Maurice McDonough

A charmed roguish grin spread against the backdrop of a thick reddish beard. There and gone just as quick as ice blue eyes flashed bemused with a devilish glint. Russet colored hair fell in tight curls down his back just past his shoulders. Noble aquiline features held a touch of an undeniable strength and determination in the set of his jaw and cleft chin. At 6' 7" he stood taller than most, squared shoulders setting off the display of musculature sinew laying in aesthetic planes across a broad chest, torso and muscular legs. A man's man dressed in a white silk shirt that flowed open into a V, a peek of reddish hair curled on his chest. Black leather pants worn had him moving with a supple ease, like a cougar stalking his prey. A Greek God's looks and physique caused him a lot of fights in his younger years growing up but gradually his temper was honed like the blade tempered in the blacksmith's fire. He well knew how to use a sword and dagger. He was a "Dandy with an attitude", for in a span of a breath you could be crushed up against a wall in a death's grip.

His first wife disappeared without a trace. The marriage, only a few weeks old, was dissolved. Eventually he met Shay Delany and married again becoming the proud father of a son - Rory Michael McDonough and later a daughter - Sarah Irene. Life is an ever-changing journey, time in the sun fell into the time of dark sorrow as Fate's path had him and Shay departing. Not one to give up easily he sought her out. There was a reconciliation and Shay returned home with Maurice but her illness gradually worsen, taking to her bed more often until one day she passed on in her sleep.

He and his brother Joe along with Kenneth O'Beirne, worked hard in developing their cattle ranch and it grew and prospered under such a diligent focus. In time his grieving heart mended and those years of concentration on his ranch helped that along. He still carved for it was in his blood to do so, from small to large projects when he had the time. Now he is back out amongst others and making new friends while keeping the tried and true ones. He had a lot to live for, a lot to be proud of and he certainly had his own hidden secrets and mysteries in his life. The infamous Ferdie the Bull's sires now created havoc from time to time, life held its challenges even in the everyday living.

His son Rory seemed to inherit his mother's natural gift with horses, in particular, and so the stables were passed on to him when he came of age. He saw to their breeding and training along with helping with the cattle when extra hands were needed. Sarah grew into a beautiful woman who had the same kind of fire in her eyes known for the McDonoughs. She leaned all the social skill and was educated. She would one day make a man a fine wife.

"Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love, some people call me Maurice, for I speak on the pompousness of love -- a grinner, a lover and a sinner" <lyrics from "The Joker">

That Certain Kind of Flirting

The big man was attired accordingly for the night even if he was immune to colder temperatures than most. Leather vest over a muted plaid cotton shirt lent to the appearance of a burly mountain man or even highlander. The appearance close with that thick russet beard that tucked away a roguish grin as the door was swung open and he to fill the doorframe a moment in a quick glance. Place was crowded and he didn't linger where he was a solid obstruction. He moved off to the side as arms crossed over the breath of a large muscular chest. Ice blue eyes were distinctive in coloring in a way the seemed to flash as focus would shift. There was certainly enough to see as a dipping glance was given down over one passing within his line of vision, appreciatively. This wasn't the other tavern nor years ago when he knew many but his philosophy was .. a new acquaintance was but a stranger away. He'd watch, for one thing the years thought him was to be picky, cautious, then make your moved if there is one to be made. Patience figure prominently in this formula.

A shift back to the crowd and that's when Maurice would be espied. Now there's the King of Eye Candy. Hand lifted and she'd offer a wave in his direction. "MAURICE!" Yes, Carly's a bit on the tipsy side, well, a little passed, but she's a fun drunk at least. The bottle of Irish Whiskey would be lifted for Maurice to see, it was an open invitation for a drink. Bottle to return to the bar's surface, and that mug would be on the rise again to sip from. Again that lean taken against the bar. Free hand moved to tuck the tail of that white poet's shirt into the waistband of those soft deer skin leather pants.

Well, he was about to approach one he noted, marked under a keen scrutiny until he got blocked from making his way over there. Now he debated as the moment's spur dwindled beneath the noise of the tavern. The urge still held as arms uncrossed and he headed through the crowd parting them like a hot knife through butter for his size. He had a way of making room as he took up a lean next to Carly. She seemed approachable this night. Of course then, it had been a long time. "Busy night, wouldn't you say sweetheart?" Ice blue eyes dipped in a flash for their distinctive coloring as well the natural roguish grin to tuck within a thick russet beard. He had missed her earlier greeting for how crowded it was in here. Noise level high.

Glance up and over at Maurice, she'd then offer him the bottle of Irish whiskey and a smile. "Evening handsome." Head tilted slightly as she'd chuckle. "It's always busy in here. I'm just thankful I'm not the one waiting on this crowd." She'd turn to snag a glass from the shelf, and offer this to him as well.

He took the bottle of Irish whiskey. Impressed. Grin only drew broader. "A lass after me own heart."

That had her chuckling. "It holds good flavor, but the effect is so much better when good company is present in which to share it with."

Xan had been at the docks again, checking on yet another delivery.  He heard the commotion in the inn and decided a drink was in order.  Stepping inside, he narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the crowd.

"I'm thankful too." Such would mean she wasn't too busy waiting on others to converse. A gesture of hand indicated he didn't need the glass as the bottle was uncorked and lifted to tilt. Long draw taken and not the first, second or even third time this night. He caught sigh of his brother in the mirror as he lowered the bottle. A swipe of a large hand over lips and beard as he turned enough to wave him over.


*No claims are made on the pictures of the actor Kenneth Branagh. It is only used as a representation of how this fictional roleplaying character would look.*

Copyright (c) 1999, All writings under this fictitious character to his writer. Web Design by McHugh Graphics
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