Tristan O’Shea

Persona History

Born an Irish shipwrights son in Dublin, Ireland in the late 1500's young Tristan had the life many hard working Irish families had during that time. Life was not handed to him by servants but he always knew life could have treated him much worse as his daily walk took him through the poorer sections of town. His father was incredibly hard working and his mother was a beautiful woman with fire red hair. Growing up, one of his favorite things to do was spending time down at the shipyard working with his father while learning anything he could from the ship workers. He loved nothing more than coming home with his father to a house that smelled of beef and leeks with a faint smell of the clove oil his mother would rub on his aching hands and feet every evening to abate the aches and pains of the workday.

About the time he turned 11 years of age the shipyard was bought by a very rich English noble his father said and it continued to do well. His father even got a raise and was promoted to a more supervisory position.

Life just seemed to get better and better; that is until his father mysteriously fell to his death one day from the scaffolding on the ship he was inspecting. He had worked the scaffolds in the shipyards his whole life and never had a major accident however he just happened to fall to his death once he was no longer required to climb the rickety structures every day.

Equally as mysterious to him, shortly after his father’s wake the English noble he had seen around the shipyard began coming around the house asking for his mother and after another brief time his whole family was moved onto the English noble’s estate where his mother was now offered a job. Not even a month later the English noble married his mother and they were now fully integrated into his many possessions.

Life became very hard, very quickly. Forced to study subjects that Tristan and his brothers had never seen or heard of, they were viciously stricken with switches each time they allowed their Irish accents to filter into their voices. Once he and his siblings had gotten the basics learned they were shipped off to a militant school in the heart of London. The brothers had never been away from their mother or what he considered home in his life and it was a stressful time trying to figure out how to fit in at the new school.

He missed everything about his beloved Ireland; ESPECIALLY the clothing. His leine shirt used to be so soft and comfortable while the doublets and breeches of England threatened to choke the life from him. Everything that used to fall pleasantly from his shoulders and waist now bound and pinched him. He hated the clothes he was forced to wear with every inch of his being.

Years went by that should have been a happy childhood but ended up being spent in an abusive institution. He suffered many terrible punishments at the hands of the schoolmasters but eventually finished his time there.

At age 16 he was finally allowed to leave the school to return home. Upon reaching the estate he ran through the house to greet his mother but the only to find that none of the servants would look him in the eye. Stopping one of the servant girls he recognized he asked about his mother. It turned out that after he was sent away to school the lord of the manor had grown tired of his mother and she suffered a similar treatment as he had at school. She had been violently abused for years by the English lord and had died the previous day. Her body was awaiting transport in a casket inside the chapel outside the manor. He could not believe this was even happening and ran out to the chapel to see her. Throwing open the doors his nostrils were assailed with the rich, pungent smoke of frankincense imported from Egypt and the sight of the coffin stole the very life from his bones… he could see her flaming red hair from the doors. The servants said they could hear him screaming maniacally from the main house but he did not hear a sound in what seemed like an eternity of blackness.

It all made sense now as the many years swirled around his head… The noble had killed or had someone else kill his father so he could possess his mother and when he was tired of her she was disposed of just like the rest of his family.

Suppressing an almost uncontrollable rage he went back to the house to find his murderous step-father. Acting as if nothing happened, he calmly went to the garden and when no one was looking he collected dozens of stamen from the Autumn crocus plant, a highly toxic, near cousin of the saffron plant. Only students trained in herbals would even have the slightest chance of telling the difference. Thankfully herbal medicine was one of the arts he was forced to learn at that terrible school. With his payload of crocus stashed in a cloth he went back to the kitchen and swapped the saffron with the crocus stamens knowing full well that his step father loved saffron in all the dishes he was served and the servants were never allowed to use the herb for themselves.

At dinner Tristan ate very little but his father heaped serving upon serving of the stuffed piglet with yellow sauce. Tristan watched and waited as the man gorged on his favorite dishes; all of which contained the fake saffron. An odd dazed look came over his step-father’s face half way through dinner and an almost imperceptible smile escaped Tristan’s face.

“Does something not agree with you father?” he spat out the final word. “You killed my real father and mother both and now thanks to your education, I am able to exact final vengeance for my parents. That odd sensation like your whole body is falling asleep is the humors being arrested within your body. You will be dead very soon. That is the only part that upsets me as I would prefer to watch you die for the next full month but this will have to do.”

With eyes bulging and hands clawing at his throat the man died gurgling spittle and his head slammed down on the table. Behind him, Tristan heard a small gasp. One of the servants had heard and seen the whole thing and ran back to rouse more of the household and probably the sergeant at arms.

Tristan saw his only way out and ran to the Plymouth ship yard to find a ship leaving the cape. Once out on the water he was caught and flogged severely, the crew, after a long period of distrust, eventually allowed him to move into a position of navigator while dabbling in cartography due to his mathematical abilities.

After a good while aboard the ship they were attacked out in open water by a ship called the Dragon's Blood. The ship was crippled and boarded by a scruffy group of individuals claiming to have lost their navigator and if they were allowed to collect up any valuables the crew might have acquired as well as a replacement navigator they would leave the rest of the crew and ship with no further violence.

The crew obliged them and Tristan started his new life aboard the Dragon's Blood. There were many more scuffles with other ships and a goodly few close calls in those years. He got to know and trust the captain at the time Lord Arthus de Winterton and moved his way up to Quartermaster in charge of the crew. Much later Lord Arthus was promoted to admiral of the fleet and was moved up from being captain. Near the same time a brutal attack and attempted theft of the ship left the Dragon's Blood crippled and almost destroyed. Tristan swore to rebuild the ship and recrew her at any cost. He selected the best crew and from theories he remembered his father using and talks with Shipwright Master Matthew Baker the ship was rebuilt faster and more powerful than it ever was.

After the refitting and upgrades to the ship he moved into service of the crown gaining the ship and crew notariety and gaining himself the title of Lord. He has served under Baron Titus and Baroness Kateline and recived multiple awards to include his Golden Torc, the Baroness' Trillium as well as a Golden Torc for the crew. The pleasure of service to the their excellencies has always been his.

The crew is now training for heavy combat as well as archery and siege combat. The rest of the story is yet to come...

Heraldic Device

Awards

Award of Arms (An Tir)
By: Uther Schiemann der Hunt, Angharad Drakenhefd; Dec 17, 2005 (AS XL)
Golden Torc (Three Mountains)
By: Titus Antonius Archelaus, Kateline MacFarlane; Sep 30, 2006 (AS XLI)
Archery Champion (Glymm Mere)
By: Godric ap Rhys, Kara of St. David; Dec 6, 2008 (AS XLIII)
Red Hart (Glymm Mere)
By: Godric ap Rhys, Kara of St. David May 14, 2011 (AS XLVI)
Crystal of Glymm Mere (Glymm Mere)
By: Francisca de Montoya, Johann Matheusson Jun 18, 2011 (AS XLVI)
Baron's Favor (Glymm Mere)
By: Johann Matheusson Dec 17, 2011 (AS XLVI)
Hunting Horn (Glymm Mere)
By: Francisca de Montoya, Johann Matheusson Jun 8, 2012 (AS XLVII)
Yeoman (Glymm Mere)
By: Francisca de Montoya Jun 30, 2012 (AS XLVII)
Goutte de Sang (An Tir)
By: Vik Vikingsson, Astrid av det Fjord Landskap; Aug 18, 2012 (AS XLVII)
A&S Champion (Glymm Mere)
By: Johann Matheusson, Francisca de Montoya; Oct 21, 2012 (AS XLVII)
Baroness's Favor (Glymm Mere)
By: Francisca de Montoya; Feb 9, 2013 (AS XLVII)
Letter of Marque (An Tir)
By: UlfR Blodfotur Fallgrson, Caoimhe ingen Domnaille; Jun 15, 2013 (AS XLVIII)
Brewing Champion (Glymm Mere)
By: Dunstan M'Lolane, Aelisia of Cambrewell; May 30, 2015 (AS L)
Ewer (Glymm Mere)
By: Dunstan M'Lolane, Aelisia of Cambrewell; Aug 1, 2015 (AS L)
Jambe de Lion (An Tir)
By: Havordh Ættarbani, Mary Grace of Gatland; Sep 5, 2015 (AS L)

Household Websites

Dragon's Blood Website
Dragon's Blood Facebook Page