THE ROMAN AND HIS TRIDENT. the king reigns the wheel.
a crown of thorns gilds his head;
witness his power. black, smooth wood perfectly bent into shape. frayed ropes that stretch under tension being pulled. the hand-carved wooden wheel at the helm spins with ease. the white cloth sails buffetting in the wind. the bow cutting through waves like butter. proud, tall masts standing at sunrise. the skull and crossbones flag raised. pristine cannons firing like crashes of thunder. splintered wood scattered across the deck after a battle. bullets flying from a gun across the crest of a storm. untold fortune that is yet to be found, miles below the surface. the anchor dropping down making port. all of it: home. the black trident is my lifelong mistress, and my home. no one will keep me from my home. and like the ocean herself, my legacy will be endless. ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
✿
Zyra leaned up against the side of the cabin, her eyes on her phone as she looked over the couple of emails that she had gotten from her mother. Her mother had gotten into the habit of emailing her every few days this month. Telling her about her days, wondering if she was eating well, asking when she would see her again. This was the sixth email that she hadn’t responded to… cause what could she tell her? When she heard footsteps approach she placed her device in her back pocket. A smile placed on her face as she looked up at the person, “ Well good evening too you?”
It had been rather surprising when Roman Tulach had named Zyra Gilmore as his first mate. She was still a relatively new addition to the crew, and it was not often that the Trident saw fresh blood; anyone he did not completely trust with his life did not work on the ship, he had made that crystal clear within his first few years as the Trident’s captain. And anyone who betrayed that trust, who betrayed the crew or him would meet the bloodiest of ends. But it was not enforcement of power through fear that had placed him where he was now, nor was that how he kept those loyal to him in line. It had never been his modus operandi to be so tyrannical toward those who stood with him. It was reciprocity. A word he doubted many royal figures truly understood. If his crew were to trust him, he would have to trust them in return.
With that in mind, Zyra’s promotion was certainly a step up. Roman had been quick to sit her down and explain exactly why he had named her his second in-command. She was young, yes, but she had an undying resilience, the potential to lead in his stead and a spirit about her that he had come to respect. He needed people like her alongside him if he was to survive his schemes; he asked for her to trust in his movements, his tactics and his plans, even if they did not seem to make sense at the time. And unlike the monster he was thought to be, he told her a secret. A secret about him. One that no one else knew of, one that he asked her to keep as a bond of trust between a captain and a first mate. This was how he had built his kingdom of oceans, and why he was sure that monarchs would fall.
“Is it that time already?” Roman asked softly, mostly of himself upon approaching Zyra. He took note of the phone she tucked away and the worry that seemed to linger in her body language, but did not press her for information. She was allowed her privacy, of course, the same as Roman was allowed his. He held up his hand before she spoke again, almost in surrender. “Don’t fret-- I don’t have the energy for any more reports. Are you well?”
Despite being oceans away (literally), the Tulach family had always been close. Dylan wasn’t sure if it was because they all had a special appreciation for family, or if it was because they knew they were the only ones in the world they could 100% trust. Hell, maybe it was both. All the siblings were like minded… for the most part. While Dylan identified strongly with his brother Miles, Miles had a quality he didn’t, a quality everyone seemed to possess but him. They could all make the decision to be ruthless. Dylan could not. If he was handed a sword and told to stab another person he didn’t think he could. He didn’t have it in him. He could approve of the action and delegate it to another, but he could never do the act himself. He had far too many feelings, and he welcomes them. He’d rather have too many than not enough. This made him feel weak, but if being weak was the price for his sanity then he would have to be weak.
He was a good pirate, but he was the worst of the family. He was convinced, and he felt as though his father knew it. He thought Roman was under the impression that Dylan was the weakest link; that he was the one who was the fuck up. He was naive and clung to his innocence like sap to a tree. If the Tulach Empire ever crumbled, it would be his fault. He knew it.
It didn’t help that he’d been angry with his dad for the past couple weeks in addition to the thoughts looming in the back of his mind. Roman should have come sooner, he should have come at the first fire, to check on his children. But no, she showed up only after half of the island burned to the ground. It made Dylan wondered if Roman finally touched ground because he was worried about his kids, or if he was just worried about his master plan.
“Hey Pop,” Dylan said as Roman came closer into view, “long time no see.”
Roman had never been a particularly emotional man. Certainly not when it came to positive emotions, those rarely showed through the cracks of his stoic expression. Negative, however, it was far more clear when he was experiencing that spectrum of feelings. Even in his younger-- he would call them ‘reckless’ --years, he had still shown little sign of a conscience; the concept of a soul residing in the depths of his being made no sense.
So people said, that was.
Roman had never denied or confirmed those rumours. Rather, he had always been rather unperturbed by the wild claims about him or his exploits; it was better left a mystery. Better left to the imagination what it was that truly made the pirate king tick. While he had been branded a monster to rest of society, his children-- they were a different story. They always had been. Isabella, Miles, Dylan and Emerson had forged their own paths in life, found their own way through the constant savagery of the world they all sailed across. Of course, raising them himself, they took after their father in some ways. And in so many others, they did not. The Tulach children were not their father. And that was good. Roman did not wish for the four of them to be carbon copies of himself.
Dylan, by far, had grown to become the least similar to Roman. He was far more compassionate, far more caring than his father had ever been-- which was not hard to achieve. But his son was a pirate with empathy and sympathy. Even though he had shown this from a younger age, however, he had never been thought to be lesser. Not by his father, or by his family. Dylan was a budding diplomat, even if emotion could shroud his decisions; Roman would never want for his son to transform into a cold-blooded killer, to toss away emotion in order to kill for their cause. He had pirates plenty willing to take up that mantle.
“I know,” Was his only response to his son’s... casual greeting. He could not begin with reasons for his prolonged absence, he knew that. They would only come across as excuses and the removal of blame from himself for not returning to their island sooner. The fires should have been enough to call him home. He knew that, his children knew that, and possibly even a few of their captives knew that. And yet he had not come, leaving his most trusted to clean up the mess. And Roman knew that he should have been with them, doing the same. “I’m sorry.”
It was a weak apology at best, and he knew that it would not grant him any sort of favour with his son. The fires could have killed his own-- endangered the lives of his children, the precise reasoning for his execution of the Voloshyn girl. She could have killed everyone on the island, could have burned his home to ash.
Had she proven to be smarter, more cunning-- perhaps Roman might have respected her. But she had been caught. The crime itself was smart, but the evidence left pointing to her and the reckless abandon with which she had burned villas showed him that she acted out of desperation, all because she had wished to go home. Roman Tulach had granted that wish, but not as she might have expected. The Ukrainian royal family had received their deceased daughter, cleaned completely of any foreign DNA and any evidence of who had performed the act, in a bodybag laid on their doorstep. In the pirate’s eyes, a just end for a delinquent such as herself, and a dark warning to anyone residing on the island who might consider threatening his family’s wellbeing-- even if they did not yet know who had been behind the killing.
“... Have you been well?” It was as if he was not sure how to converse with Dylan beyond strategy and schemes. When had he forgotten how to be a father? This was something to ponder. Perhaps he had been away too long, too consumed by his plans. His children deserved a parent that was more present. And this... inability to converse, he mused, was a sign. He would stay upon the island for a good while. Be the leader he had promised his fleet he was, and be the father he had promised himself he would be.
Christopher had never been overly fond of the heat, sure he’d go to some beaches some times but he always liked the mountains more, and the natural weather of his country was colder, and now going into winter, snow was about to start, so he had been wearing warm clothes when he was taken, And he was brought to a tropical island. The prince took off his shirt soon enough or he would surely would have passed out from the heat. “So what is the deal here, will I have to walk around naked or there is a place I can get appropriate clothes?”
The arrogance with which a royal held themselves was one Roman had always despised. The entitlement, the baseless demand of respect. He had, of course, expected to come across many like this boy here. A boy, he noted, that did not have the common sense to explore for himself the many pieces of rejected clothing the pirates had amassed, that he so graciously had decided to allow his captives to pick and choose from. Frankly, Roman had allowed his prisoners plenty of luxuries living on his island considering they were, in fact, prisoners. A safe place to sleep, clothing, food, water. It was overly-generous as it was; he would not act as a tourist guide for newcomers who did not know what was where.
Inspecting the prince, Roman instantly recognised his face-- he knew the faces of all the royals they had captured and those they had yet to steal away. He had ingrained them all in his memory in preparation for his plot. And this one-- this boy, he was Christopher De Vries, the crown prince of The Netherlands. Another European.
If Christopher could not figure out where to find appropriate articles to cover himself and expected someone else to tell or guide him, he would find no luck here. Roman was far more inclined to mislead. “There is always the jungle. Perhaps there is something there for you to wear. Leaves are rather abundant. And the vines would make for some wonderfully fashionable undergarments.” Oh, part of him wished dearly that the prince was stupid enough to believe him.
Emerson could never really place her finger on why she hadn’t gone to see Roman upon his arrival to the island. He was the most pivotal player and she reported to even him. He was her father, after all. And she loved her father. She let a bottle of rum dangle between her fingers as she approached the ever-familiar villa to knock on the door, ever the stereotypical pirate.
Her other royal’s disappearance wasn’t her fault. Emerson couldn’t be faulted for that, but it had gotten her the biggest thorn in Roman’s side as a result. She needed to be careful when around Luka and she wasn’t naive enough to think she could get away with doing to him what she had done to Roderick.
Finally, she reached out and knocked twice on the door with her free hand, setting the bottle of rum at her feet. When it opened, she felt the breath leave her lungs. “Hi, Dad.”
Roman had never expected fatherhood to be of such importance when he was a much younger man. In fact, he had expected he would never have a family of his own. Once he had left his home behind, he had thought his family would be the crew of a ship. And yet-- it seemed that Fate had plans that certainly changed his.
He had fathered two daughters, two sons. And while he had never married either of the women, he had given them his name. They were his children. Isabella, Miles, Dylan, and-- his train of thought paused as he heard the rap of knuckles upon wood. Rising from his position on the lounge, Roman unlatched his door to greet his visitor, finishing his internal monologue out loud.
“Emerson,” Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. He had not expected to be left to his own devices, not even once he had retired to his villa, and as such, this visit came as no surprise. When his daughter had not come to greet him in his rooms in the Tulach House, he had expected her appearance here.
His gaze, still colder than most, warmed ever-so-slightly when it was set upon his own flesh and blood. An unfortunate weakness in some ways, a fortunate strength in others. In formulating his plans Roman had come accept that even he, the monster of the seas, had something to lose in his pursuit of freedom. He was also a father. Many people who heard stories of him never stopped to consider what that meant. And those who had passed the godforsaken law against all who were affiliated with the name Tulach seemed to forget how merciless a parent could be when even one child was threatened.
And all of his own had been promised death.
Wordlessly, he stepped aside to allow his daughter to enter. He was well-aware that Emerson had plenty to relay to him-- parts he had been informed of through reports while he had been away, some he had heard in passing. But Roman was, of course, not going to be satisfied until he had heard Emerson speak on the matters. “Sit,” It was a soft-toned command, but a command all the same. If she had come to talk, then they would talk. While he allowed his daughter to make herself comfortable, he ambled over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of rum from his own collection before taking a seat that faced Emerson. “Is there anything you wish to speak about?”
Blab: Three secrets I’m keeping.
Mwah: Three people I’d like to kiss.
Similar: Three members of the same sex I find attractive.
Different: Three members of the opposite sex I find attractive
Pastime: Three hobbies I have that I would be embarrassed to know someone discovered.
Doing: Three habits that I have.
Psst: Three things that I’ve always wanted to tell you.
Shh: Three things I wouldn’t want my parents to know
Dream: Three wishes I have.
Want: Three things I would do to you if we were alone.
“Please tell me we’re investing in some military spec, thumb print locks for the villas. I have had far to many royals let themselves into my villa to yell at me about the interrogations over the last month and it’s getting tedious. I’m not a damn HR office, I don’t care enough for that shit.” Belle was sat on her father’s kitchen counter, cookie jar in hand as she blew out some of her frustration for over the last few weeks - the main one anyhow.
Her father didn’t need to know that sleeping was becoming impossible again. She sighed, finally picking out a cookie and setting the jar down next to her as she took a bite. Chewing for a moment she swallowed and shrugged. “Also, I think we’ve gotten all we’re going to get out of the royals in the wake of the fires. All the paperwork is complete and filed and Miles and I are keeping an eyes out on things. All is quiet, but I don’t like that to be honest. I don’t trust any of the royals as far as I could throw them.”
“Are you just going to stay holed up in here dad or are you going to get out and about? Because I think even hermit crabs get more sunlight than you have.” she teased lightly.
@tridentsking
It had been barely enough time for Roman to settle down into his quarters before his children had begun to grapple for his attention. His private plane and its landing upon the island was certainly not subtle and that meant that his most-trusted would be seeking him out, with much to report in terms of what had occurred since he had last been living among the tranquil paradise he had declared as home for his family.
His journey to the island had given him time plenty to rest, to compile a list of things he expected information about, and while he was sure he would have much rather enjoyed relaxing his in his very private and very guarded villa, his rooms within the Tulach House had all the same amenities. Business came first, always; his most-trusted would be able to see him most easily there. So there he would stay, until all had reported in and he had a better picture of how next to proceed.
Roman, however, was quite positive that business did not involve his eldest daughter taking over his kitchen space and eating what food had been there for him. Of course, he did not mind sharing-- and he could not fault his own child for taking his food, either. He had given his children plenty over the years, and he was no different now regarding the subject. “I am glad to see you too, Isabella,” Roman’s amusement could not be hidden at the normality with which he responded to her griping. For all this scheme might cost him, he was glad for a central place to house himself and his children. More often than not they were all at sea, away from one another and unable to truly communicate. Here, it was more... intimate, and their family could act as one unstoppable force-- the way they were meant to. And it was here he could be a father to them.
Leaning against another of the counters, Roman had let Belle speak without interruption. Since she had been younger, it had always been better for her to let things out-- he had learned that the hard way. Of course, now, he knew better. If that was what she needed, he would not deny her. “If someone is knocking at your door, you do not have to answer them. Nor do you have to keep that door unlocked.” A short exhale, and the man let his lips curl into a smile-- neither malicious nor benevolent. Rather it was an empty smile, ready to be filled with possibilities. “You can always send them to my office if they are that much of a bother, Isabella.”
Stormy grey and blue eyes scanned over his daughter, and he nodded once at the mention of paperwork. Some light reading for later, it would seem. “Good.” Roman’s praises toward people could be few and far between, but he was proud of Belle and Miles’ leadership in his absence. This operation was one that risked their lives, and yet, his children, his crew and his children’s crews stood with him. Unified against the common enemy. He could not have asked for a better family-- nor had he ever wanted for one. Not only that, but even while he was away, they ensured that nothing went awry. Mostly. He had chosen his allies well, and taught his children even more effectively. “Keep an eye on your mark. Ensure that everyone else does the same and we will not experience any more hiccups in our plans. Do what you must to prevent any foolish mutiny.”
Pushing himself up and off the counter, Roman swiftly plucked the jar of cookies from his daughter’s hand and pulled out one of his own before setting it down, all the while still listening to Isabella; her teasing was enough to make him chuckle. A quip such as that from anyone but his own child and he might have ensured they left his presence missing something important.
As it was, it was Isabella. And even if she had only meant to jest, she provided a very valid point. In the past, Roman had been the faceless figurehead of this whole scheme, always deeply engrossed by his work to ensure that his plan would unfold as he had hoped. And so far, it had, save for a few bumps along the road. But he himself was still shrouded in mystery. And upon learning about the fires, upon learning that these royals were looking for a way out-- he intended to change snuff out any thoughts of revolting well before plans could be formed. He would make it known to all those they kept prisoner on this island that he was the one that had brought them here, and he was the one that would keep them here. He wanted to make sure his presence was felt everywhere, make it feel as if one was being watched, no matter what part of the island one was on. Nowhere would be safe for royals to conspire.
“You will be happy to know that I have decided that I will start taking morning walks around the island,” It would be a way to clear his mind, and to remind those royals who wished to try anything that now would be a shockingly daft move. Taking a careful bite of the treat in his hand, he chewed methodically before he swallowed. No crumbs. “There has always been so much to see, and now so many people to meet,” A conniving smile replaced the empty one as he glanced over at his daughter. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
IC DETAILS: Roman has just arrived upon the island and is inspecting his ship, heading to his private quarters and keeping his shoes clean.
OOC DETAILS: Basically Roman is just thinking about decking out the Trident even further, and has some very interesting plans for those with royal blood in their veins.
Roman had often thought about changing the colour of the sails.
The classic weathered cream was unoriginal, and did not instil fear in the hearts of those they met through the waves. Sails stained with the blood of the crew’s victims had been an idea-- one he had discarded soon after. Blood dried, and would darken to a dull brown after time. It had been such a promising idea, but he could do better. He knew he could do better.
The Trident was a beauty, and he, as the king of the oceans he surveyed was truly the only one fit to captain it. Two exceptional creatures that would be bound forever. His precious ship, his ever sturdy companion deserved the absolute finest in treatment, from sails to cookware.
Placing a hand against the hull, he began to run his fingertips over the intricately wrought metal reinforcements that had been woven into the wood that had saved his life countless times. Seemingly in an act of affection, Roman brushed away a small pocket of salt that had collected in one of the nooks of the of the decorative spirals that contrasted in a small difference in the inky shades.
The salt flakes fell where he did not expect; upon the top of one of his oxford shoes. One half of his favourite pair, It had become a habit to keep his belongings pristine and clean, with as much care for his attire as he did his Trident. Humming a small tune, seemingly unbothered by the inconvenience, he bent down to sweep it once again from a valuable possession he owned. After the specks had been dealt with, he then rose and, ensured no salt clung to his fingers and straightened himself; flattening out any wrinkles in his clothes so as to ensure he looked as impeccable as he rightfully should.
He did not look like a pirate in his expensive suit, gold cufflinks inlaid with roughly cut painite stones held the sleeves snug against his wrists save for where he wore his watch. For all intents and purposes, Roman Tulach presented as a very wealthy businessman.
But appearances, they had always been deceiving.
Underneath his crisp clothing and expensive accoutrements lay a man who prided in the empire he had built for himself and his family. A man that many called monster. Roman could not help the malicious grin at the thought. Unlike those they had stolen from their warm beds, he had earned his greatness and had never once displayed regret for any atrocity. Not even for the princess he had demanded dead.
Perhaps his own pride of what he already had accomplished would his downfall, but Roman had always been smarter than the media who spoke about him did. Looking as he did now, he could walk into a bank, retrieve money and leave without a single person realise he looked so familiar.
"Black sails. Yes.” His murmur was only heard by himself, the sudden jump from topics within his head that so many found jarring not fazing the pirate king at all. He would speak with his crew about new additions and changes to their vessel. Improvements could always be made, and in chasing that perfect ship in one such as The Black Trident, Roman was careful and calculated every single decision regarding even the smallest changes aboard.
It had been a while since he had last laid eyes on his beauty, Because of his love for The Black Trident, while he had been away he had expected nothing but excellence from those he had tasked with being left in charge.
His children: beautiful and temperamental Isabella; reckless and outspoken Miles; loyal and curious Dylan; anger-fulled and wily Emerson. And then, of course, his crew: Zyra, John, Leland, Ronan and Jack, When he left, Roman made it very clear that their responsibility to manage the people was vital when he is/was/and will not be, and he expects to hear that there is not even a weapon missing.
The people he bestowed trust upon to control their herd of royalty when he did have reason to depart from the island, and of those, are were allowed into his innermost circle of companions.
There was much to survey now that he had returned. And he wanted to ensure that no pirate had slipped up, lest they lose something... important. Royals, however, would suffer more deeply for any breaking of the rules upon the centre of his watery kingdom. But first, to retire to his quarters, and then, after rest, to meet with his trusted council. Swiftly departing from the docks, his hubris became to swell as not many seemed to want to stand in his way, Perhaps it was that he exuded such a power that they knew he would not be merciful toward harassers or those who had questions about him.
Or perhaps, and it was more likely than the alternative, they could recall his face. Though he rarely made appearances to the crowd of people living on his island, when he did, he demanded all eyes to fixate on him. And at first, he had even wanted to remain more mysterious. After all, how could the enemy spill his blood with little information on Roman? Though he still enjoyed pulling the strings of his game from behind the scenes and it delighted him very much to be the puppeteer that the world’s fate rested upon, he had spent so much time simply observing. It was not wrong to want to join in; it was not wrong to want to refresh the minds of his prisoners that any step out of line would not end well; and it was certainly not wrong to loom over and deliver an unspoken reminder to those who might have been beginning to feel safe in their beds at night that they were at his every whim.
Once he had reached his house, not needing to look as the paths were so familiar, Upon entering the space, Roman could only try to hide a grin. Oh yes, there were many awful events to come soon enough. Retiring to his private space, he began to feel at home once again and relaxed back into his chair.
Ah, the beauty of scheming. He had been itching to find new ways to play with the princes and princesses who truly thought someone would rescue them. It would not just be on Roman’s orders this time, however; the pirate king, had many, many games he would so very much adore and savour to conduct. There were so very many entitled brats upon this island, of course, and the opportunity to pick one, or several, out for what he had in store for those he could choose from. But, in an effort to keep the brats under the impression that they could have a chance at going home, until struck with inspiration, Roman would spend his days watching the inhabitants closely, and with great interest. Time would tell who would suffer at his hand, or the hand of others.
Stretching back in the chair, he felt a warm, fuzzy and pleasurable sensation run through his system at the thought of his schemes yet to fully bloom. There was still so much more that needed to be done, but his’s allies’ success rate has been far better than Roman expected. Those tasked with swiping such high profile people without a clue left behind could almost expect a larger share in treasure-- for their troubles, of course. And everything seemed to be falling into the right place at the right time. Good. Very good. Exhaling slowly as Roman let the tension in his muscles release, he gladly sunk into the plush cushioning,
No matter how briefly it the feeling through his body persisted, Roman would savour it; for the first time in a long while, the pirate king was truly content.
Look who has returned home; it’s ROMAN BLOODY TULACH, a 47 year old Captain on The Black Trident. He has been described as enrapturing and machiavellian. He has been tasked with watching over Lola Gutierrez.
//**ROMAN IS HERE AND HE IS AMAZING I AM SO EXCITED
the basics about this truly twisted man: his full name is roman alastair tulach, he is 47 years old, a pansexual and panromantic casanova often with incredibly sinister intent hidden beneath a near-irresistible charming smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that brings forth immense fascination from those fortunate (and others unfortunate) enough for the pirate to grace them with his presence.
truly a man who needs no introduction, roman tulach started his career to become a marauding legend as a young man. he spent the next decades using such smart tactics and wisdom that one could suspect that he had meticulously wicked plans before he even considered the opportunity of piracy.
now, his name is infamously known across every single country, ocean and sea that his influence can reach; while he is best known both his ship and his own actions, most agree that his greatest accomplishment was establishing his dominion over the waters of the world. it wasn’t long before stories spread, those who had grown to fear him as inhuman painting him as poseidon incarnate. he is the monster parents tell their children of before bedtime, a deadly threat each day for those who work on the docks across europe, and, with what seemed like delight, roman learned he is bizarrely thought to be the real-life version of the boogeyman to some. even for those who prefer to stay on land, an icy chill can run down the spine upon hearing his name uttered aloud. the horror stories shared about his merciless behaviour have often served as campfire tales for people looking for a scare, and conversely as a conversation piece for roman, finding himself recounting the tales with a smugness to his words.
while it is clear now that he is a man who would laugh in the face of death, his life had not always been one of such... grand schemes, or one of luxury. with parents who had never been... all that attentive or loving toward their son, nor toward his siblings, they had grown up in poor conditions with little money to get by and hardly enough food to fill all hungry bellies.
having grown up in ireland at the time, as he became older and more aware of the world surrounding him, roman started to notice things that others might have simply accepted. while he and his family lived in squalor, the monarchy of ireland, the monarchies of all the countries he had learned of, lived extremely expensive lives without care for their people who had been born poor, lived poor and died poor. he began to see through the veil of flowery words that monarchs spoke in an effort to bring hope to the lowest of the lower classes, and soon developed an extreme distaste for the concept of an absolute monarchy altogether. the idea that the capability to run a country was somehow found in the veins of people who grew up never truly understanding the kingdom they would eventually rule over was abhorrent to him, and as conditions only seemed to worsen, roman, at the young age of fourteen, decided it was time take matters into his own hands.
turning to petty crimes in his early teens, he began to steal. first, what his family needed to survive. which then became what his family wanted. and finally, he found himself taking whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. but his reputation had begun to reach the ears of law enforcement and he knew that if he continued to stay, he would face jail time for his newfound hobby. pirate ships frequented the docks near his home city, cork, and roman knew that all too well when he made the decision to gather his belongs and head down there. after some bargaining and bribing he was allowed aboard one of those vessels, the furies’ retribution as a cabin boy. and it was on the ship that roman tulach began his career as a fully-fledged pirate.
he very quickly learned what life on a pirate ship was truly like, but unlike others who might have had second thoughts once they landed and began to raid seaside towns, roman never gave a hint of emotion, either positive or negative, toward their violet thefts. he would later recall that he felt a certain rush and thrill during his first raids with the crew. though the youngest member aboard the ship, he soon became the person to test the limits of such crimes and it became eerily clear that roman had come to enjoy these acts. soon he became quite adept in the crows nest, high atop the mast of the ship, using spyglasses and digital cameras with extensive zoom lens to find vulnerable places to pillage. from there, he taught himself how to pick out which houses would be stocked with more expensive items in order to increase the crew’s gains. this, and the fact that he never seemed to back down from a fight led to roman becoming an extremely valuable member aboard the ship. from then on, the crew experienced extremely good fortune, each person received more than enough money to satisfy their needs in life and then some. an undeniable high point in his life, roman still had yet to reach the greatness and infamy he has since now earned.
and while the curious tale of the pirate himself is compelling on it’s own due to either recounts becoming so warped that they no longer resembled the true events he experienced, and also thanks to roman himself, who likes to embellish when he does talk of his younger times as a pirate.
the origins of his ship, the dreaded black trident however, is undoubtedly the most notorious story told about roman tulach and his crew. some saw that it was a ghost ship and roman had unlocked the secret to evaded Death himself. others suspected him of having sold his soul to the devil for untold fortune and fame, and even more still suspect that he is in fact Death, sailing across the ocean to guide the souls of the dead toward the afterlife-- or in some cases, Hell.
however, a recount of the story with roots in reality begins as follows: the notorious gang of pirates that had sailed aboard the furies’ retribution drifted into the harbour of a northern portuguese harbour with wounded aboard and the ship itself nearly torn to pieces-- whispers travelled around that it was the aftermath of a sea battle with a royal naval ship. attempts were made to repair the furies’ retribution, but due to the enormous damage it had sustained, it was a miracle that it was still floating. not only that, but the crew had lost their captain to the gun fire during the skirmish. now without a leader or a ship, the pirates had accepted the loss as a sign to give up, turning to petty crimes to fund their lives, and left the crew for good. but roman seemed not at all worried for his future, and it was clear that the man had much more ambitious plans than just picking pockets to get by.
after a night of heavy drinking those who still remained of the once ruthless crew awoke much later usual and headed to the docks in search of friendly allies or mercenaries that might be willing to hire the rag-tag team. to their surprise, they found roman on the docks and their ruined ship gone. the young man was aiding in loading supplies onto a very distinguished looking and very new ship. when one asked, a worker mentioned that the furies’ retribution had caught on fight during the night, causing it to sink in the middle of the small calm harbour. and as for the ship they had been filling, they called it os fogos da justiça; or the fires of justice, a ship that had been constructed some few months earlier, rumoured to be the request of the portuguese king. if truly commissioned by him, it was meant to deliver supplies to his private island in the warm waters of the mediterranean sea. while some of the group were not exactly the sharpest crayons in the box, they still had questions-- positively baffled that roman tulach, clearly a dedicated pirate and an outspoken anti-monarchist, seemed to be helping workers with labour that would only serve to help a royal, rather than taking those much sought after and valuable supplies for himself. something was very clearly off about the situation, but they could not yet see roman’s intentions for what they truly were.
what had seemed to be an act of from the depths of a good heart turned into a living nightmare when the last crate was placed aboard. it happened rather suddenly. without warning, roman pulled a knife and slit the throat of one of the workers as he descended down the ramp off of the ship; he didn’t even have the chance to scream. he did not flinch as screams began to ring out and the pirates, who had seen roman’s quick wit and critical thinking while working together, realised that roman had never helping these people at all-- he had been preparing to steal this onyx giant for himself. along with that knowledge, they knew that to follow him was a wise decision, and that this ship was a way out of life upon only land. springing into action, they began to climb aboard their newly claimed property, cutting down any and all that attempted to stop them.
what they left behind was nothing short of a bloodbath, the docks stained with the blood of many who had attempted to be noble and prevent the theft. some tales which break into the fantastic claim that the stained blood can still be seen today on that very same pier, growing from a brown colour to a much brighter red upon the anniversary of the killings.
breaking in their new ship, the pirates boldly raided a small gathering of houses just ten miles away from the harbour, and while in the past they had let those they had stolen from live, this time there were no survivors. the last man alive, one who had hidden while the pirates had collected everything of value from the houses was eventually found and brought onto the deck of the new ship, face to face with the newly instated captain: roman tulach. deciding he wanted to play a little game with the survivor, he asked the man how badly he wanted to live. but in reply, the man did not beg or plead. instead, he said, with overwhelming calmness: “our king will hunt you down. you will hang for your crimes.” again, roman asked the question-- but again, received the same response.
anger overtook the pirate, and instead of simply killing the man with a gun, or a knife, roman paced up and down the deck, trying to counter what the man kept repeat. and then his eyes fell upon the bow of the ship, where a decorative sculpture of poseidon held a trident made of a black metal. while it had only been meant as piece of art, in sliding it out of the grasp of the god he realised that the ‘art’ was exceedingly sharp. a crooked grin painted roman tulach’s face as he turned back toward the man, hopping back down and marching forward before roughly plunging the trident into his chest, killing him almost instantly. the man’s body was tossed overboard, but instead of replacing the trident to it’s original space, roman weighed it in his hands and knew that this ship would not be know as the fires of justice. it is unclear what exactly prompted roman to take the trident from it’s statue, nor why it could be removed in the first place. what was most important, though, was that from then and forevermore, roman tulach captained the black trident. a ship that he allegedly vowed would forever be a black stain on the history of monarchs who had attempted to snuff out piracy from the world.
what followed the maiden voyage of the black trident around europe were some of the most brutal pillaging, killings and destructive instances in recent history-- and the mastermind behind each and every scheme was the man himself, already having become part of some countries’ folklore, roman tulach. he has committed some of the most heinous crimes imaginable, all for the sake of his ultimate goal: true freedom. however, no one truly knows what that means for the captain, as he often delights in social manipulation, and toying with the minds of others.
while there is clearly a volatile part to his psyche, roman tulach is also known to be quite the womanizer-- though he also shares the company of men and others in just the same way as with women. a result of some of these love affairs left roman with children. isabella, born to luciana masters and miles, dylan and emerson tulach, born to monique d’alessio. no one knows truly to what extent he is capable of loving his children to the public-- and the next logical question is whether or not those who mothered his children were ever shown love either. of course, only fuelling the rumour that he was inhuman, roman never spoke enough on emotions toward his family or lovers. his private life was precisely that: private. at the very least, he had enough trust in his children to assign them ships, and areas of the world to take in the tulach name. two other family members, his brother and an extended family member were also given the privilege of captain ships to maintain his grasp on the world of piracy. once they gained control over the majority of the world’s oceanic territory, it was thought that roman would stop there, having proved that a man with nothing could grow up to be their own king. and rule over the oceans and seas he did-- until a new law was passed. one that targeted pirates. specifically tulach pirates.
roman was known to have fits of rage in times of extreme danger-- when his former lover was hanged and he learned that belle had been with her, the man’s fury nearly took the life of a allied pirate, roman being so blinded by rage at the potential loss of his eldest child that he began strangling the man closest to him at the time he discovered the news. however, when this law was passed, a law that called for the execution of all tulachs and the pirates affiliated with them upon arrest, the self proclaimed pirate king fell dangerously silent, and immediately demanded that those who were accompanying him in his office leave his presence at once. the legacy and family that the man had built over two decades was being threatened, and challenged.
it was that very same day roman tulach took the early steps of thought into his grand retaliation plot. after a week of deep and rarely uninterrupted thought, he gathered his six lieutenants for another full week on his island to devise the perfect revenge, a way to hold advantageous influence over monarchs all over the world, and guarantee that the headhunt for the tulachs would cease, all in total secrecy.
needless to say, he has been very pleased with the results his plan has yielded.
