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Jarlas Fraiture

And so, in saunters this man-- and what a man-- looking around for a drink, a woman, maybe a combination of both! Except he's also a Zombie.

0 · 563 views · located in The Wastelands

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Jarlas

Groups

A gathering that seeks out the seven feathers of Dhaelhel in order to banish the taint of Naar on Terra.

Description

Jarlas Fraiture can be most commonly seen wearing a thin white shirt. Said shirt has laces that tie the neck all the way down to his navel; naturally, he leaves them fairly loose, allowing all the nearby women to see his slightly muscular, almost completely bare pale chest. A wild red mane of hair rests on his head, a V shaped chin with the most subtle cleft and bare sideburns. Naturally, he's got quite attractive, deep green eyes as well. Indeed, Jarlas is one of the most attractive specimens of a man you're ever likely to lay your eyes on. Oh, and he's also an Elf. Oh, and he is also now a goddamn zombie, which sucks, 'cause now he's even more pale, and his eyes aren't so bright, and it's just the worst.

Personality

Cocky, womanizing, bit of a drinking... "problem." Just likes a drink or several now and then, no biggie. Beneath the 'humble' exterior, Jarlas is a mysterious, mystical man, surely. He's also a damn zombie, so he's mad.

Equipment

Flask of Ale, flask of Meade, flask of Bourbon, flask of 'shine', flask of Jarlas' special brew, flask of port, couple of daggers here or there, and his clothing, naturally.

History

Well, Jarlas was minding his own business, being a crusader for everything good and righteous and all that good stuff. He wakes up one day, planning to go get drunk and/or get laid, and wham! Space. He was floating around there for a while, but then he, or rather, his dead, frozen corpse, ended up in a tavern, Gambit's Bar they called it. Total BS that he couldn't end up there first, but whatever. He was dead, so he couldn't complain. But then, this total ass named Vidious saunters over and with a horrible, nasty, just, totally mean look in his eye, turns our hero into a mindless walking corpse.

But then it went horribly awry! Jarlas kept his mental facilities, and he would have killed the dastardly necromancer too, if he hadn't laughed and said, "No, thou fool, thou canst not kill me! For if thou doest thus, thou shalt forever remain a forsaken cadaver! Ha ha ha!" So Jarlas, with a stiff upper lip and a cool demeanor, decided he had to find a way back to life, whatever the cost!

First step was to cook the space-freeze off in a chili.

After that, his second step was to ask for help from the undoubtedly charitable people of the random bar in the middle of everything that he'd stumbled upon. Naturally, nobody gave him a second glance. So! After setting forth on an amazing adventure, he decided to go to the hospital, because they fix everything.

"Hello, excuse me," Says Jarlas as he steps into the ER. "I have a slight case of Zombie." "Oh, of course," says the counter lady, who despite his condition still thought of Jarlas as a sexy bastard. "We get those all the time. Come this way." After stripping down and putting on those greenish robe things, the two chat. "So, you see, medical sciences and all that don't currently have the capability to, y'know, resurrect you," says the lady. Balls, thinks Jarlas. "But! We live in extraordinary times, which means extraordinary things can happen!" Happy face! But then! "We have a mysterious, magical potion that can turn you whole again- but in order to make it work, you must complete anywhere from one to twenty trials." "Gasp! One to twenty?! That's almost twenty one! How many and what are they?" Jarlas is stupefied. Horrified. Mortified.

"That depends on what the dude who did it says." Dun dun dunnnnnn!

So Jarlas goes forth to seek out his arch nemesis, Vidious. He has to take down half of the dude's cartel before he gets there, to his fancy office in a big sky-scraper. But, it turns out, the big bad guy has a trick up his sleeve. "I know for what reason thou hast come unto me. And thou shalt not have thine reprieve given thusly in simple fashion! I created you, and I can unmake you! Ha ha ha!" Forced to bargain, Jarlas concedes to the dastardly dark one. With as little specifics as possible, the evil guy gives his first trial to Jarlas.

"Thou canst not partake of spirits in thine condition, and thus I have decided thou must spend your time surrounded by that which ye so desires. Thou must become A Bartender at Gambit's! Ha Ha Ha! Ha Ha Ha!" So it was the first trial was decided, and Jarlas, stalwartly, braving the conflicts and insanity of the place so fittingly called Gambit's, begins his attempts to ally himself with the staff, that he might, despite his pains, become a bartender...

So turns out it was pretty easy to become a Bartender at the Gambit's. After speaking to the standing 'Tender, Jarlas was given the position. The First Trial Was Complete. Jarlas was ecstatic. It was a good time to be had for all, basically. Far away, Vidious was busy scheming though, plotting the next of horrible Trials for Jarlas to effortlessly get past.

Little more than a day had gone by before Vidious had his second trial prepared. Braving all odds, Jarlas was forced to gather information from one of the most deadly figures of all time, Alucard the Vampire. Infamously hating Zombies, Jarlas nevertheless interrogated the mythical monster of mystical power, in a grueling, hours long session. Finally, Vidious appears within a cloud of smoke! "Thy second trial is complete! Now thou must acquire a magically imbued weapon for my sinister purposes! Mua ha ha ha!" Another cloud of smoke, and he's gone!

Jarlas remains stalwart in his quest, asking for help from his new ally, the Vampire Alucard. But he cannot help! Searching for more answers, Jarlas captures the heart of the young Halfling, the tiny tomboy temptress, Shale. Still, he can't stay, and goes out into the wilds to seek a weapon of such mystical proportions as to complete The Third Trial


Time passed. Children were born, grew into men, grew old, and died. These poor people had a terrible disease that made them age really fast; but that's still a lot of time that passed, man. Jarlas disappeared, having gone into the wilds of the world in search of a famed Magical Weapon! And search he did. The Jungles of Mexico in search of Aztec secrets brings him to an island in the middle of the ocean, where he discovers a dark, terrible secret, but no weapons (or even gold.) Then, searching the Himalayas for the lost city of Shangri'la, he again finds nothing more than a bunch of crazy blue folks. Even searching through ancient lost dwarven cities, Jarlas could find nothing of use or importance to his quest! Woe was he!

And now he's back. Still a zombie. Looks pretty good, all dressed up in explorer-like stuff, but still a goddamn zombie. Still lookin' for a goddamn Magical Weapon.

----- YEARS LATER -----

After another misadventure leading to multiple situations of dubious intent from multiple parties, Jarlas once again returned to the Bar. Vidious, who happened to be there, decided that Jarlas' rod was perfectly fine all along, and said "Good job buddy you're good to go." Except with malice. And also referring to Jarlas' magical rod that summoned things, not-- well you get the picture.

So Jarlas went and lo and behold... he had to do more work. To finish the potion, he needs to acquire multiple pretty much impossible to acquire reagents- most important of which is a soul.

Fortunately, the wily and curious cat-creature Bo Jangles was willing to help! But under what contract is she? Dun dun dun...

So begins...

Jarlas Fraiture's Story

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#, as written by Jarlas
Jarlas Fraiture arrives from the Milky Way and starts the process of re-composing.

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#, as written by Jarlas
Jarlas Fraiture could use some help being not dead, if anybody has, y'know, a priest on call or something.

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#, as written by Jarlas
Jarlas Fraiture was in deep space for some goddamn reason, not that he could explain this, slumped over a chair and thawing out as he was.

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#, as written by Jarlas
Jarlas Fraiture is not fond of this. Jarlas doesn't like this at all. He'd have a mind to object, if he wasn't currently dead, and all.

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#, as written by Jarlas
After a moment's pause, the green eyes of Jarlas snap open. Or, mostly green; being dead sort of takes the color out of you. And his skin, oh, that was even more pale. Usually, after waking up from near-death or something like it, Jarlas would've liked to take a nice deep breath, but being a damn zombie sort of takes the pleasure out of that. "This is the worst," he intones, glancing around to spot Vidious giving him a none too pleasant leer. "Absolutely the worst."

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"How could it be worse," Jarlas laments. "I've known some zombies. Good folk, sure, but goddamn is it hard to get drunk. Having no blood flow really doesn't do anything for you. And... oh god." He immediately reaches into his pants, and a look of absolute horror crosses his face. "No feeling. No feeling! You monster!" Looking towards HellShine doesn't even do anything for him; shorts. Short! Nothing!

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Jarlas fixes HellShine with a look. The kind of look that was a crude mixture of misplaced anger and lustful longing, a longing that could never be fulfilled. "No. What's the point? I can't get drunk now." Standing up, he groans, or his bones do. There's a groaning sound, is the point. "And I'm still all frozen." Looking around, he wonders where the creepy necromancer went. "Can anybody, like... I dunno, kill me again? Preferably without damaging the goods." He attempts a flex. He fails, miserably. Flexing was supposed to attract people to his cause, for the record. "And find me a priest that'll bring my blood flow back. I need that to drink and bone, not necessarily in that order."

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#, as written by Jarlas
"Gods have blood! Or, I dunno, their bodies transmit the flow of alcohol or some shit! I can't!" He whips out his dagger (or, really, just sorta flops it out what with being mostly frozen) and jabs himself. A little, tiny bit of blood oozes, slowly, out. "Didn't even feel it. This is just horrible. How is alcohol gonna get to me like this?" All the same, he drops his knife at the floor and takes the bottle, tilting his head back and pretty much just letting the probably delicious liquid he couldn't taste fill his throat. Utterly miserably, mind you.

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Well, Jarlas was going to spend the rest of the night being miserable, probably. Can't drown his sorrows in drink, can't try his hand at the local ladies. Just, just horrible. And most self-inflicted suicides would either leave him mangled in a way he wouldn't really like, or, y'know, not work what with the lack of breathing or bleeding or any other common deaths. Just horrible. Hobbling forward at a slow, steady pace, he decides the kitchen is the best idea. "I'll be in the kettle if anyone needs me."

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#, as written by Jarlas
"Well what am I supposed to do," he demands, turning slowly towards HellShine. "I'm dead, and half frozen, and miserable. I need to either die or be able to move a bit, so I can go find someplace to die, since you're too pansy-assed to do anything about it." He crosses his arms, over the course of about five seconds, and tilts his hip in a presumably sassy manner.

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Jarlas Fraiture would prefer to be known, currently, as the 'Half frozen dead man', given that's more accurate. Also wants to kill himself, which is pretty well opposite to eating anything. Albeit, he'd rather be known as 'Soon-to-be-not-at-all-dead-man.' Or, as was more likely, 'Soon-to-be-completely-dead-man.' Either way was fine, Jarlas was not a man of doing halfsies. "You go bite humans," he responds to HellShine. "And don't tell me who can't and can kill me. I'll die on my own time. And I'm free game," he shouts at the soldiers. "Just don't hurt the goods."

It was easy enough for everybody coming to and from the kitchen to pass him, what with the slow, hobbling, frozen demeanor. Passing Vidious, he fixed him with a stone cold glare. Stone cold. Because he's mostly frozen.

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Walking past Vidious was a difficult task, once he started talking. Jarlas had a mind to punch him, if he was able to move faster than a snail. He also wasn't nearly drunk enough. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for anything. "Hello, mind if I call you 'Ass'? It's short for Vidious. Common name where I'm from, common shorting, you know." He let that sink in. Jarlas was the best at burns.

"I don't know why you did that. I hate it, though, just so we're clear, it's pretty literally the worst. I mean, would you rather be dead, or be forced to live and not breath or be able to get drunk or anything? I set out today expecting to get drunk off my rocker and get a lay or two, y'know, depending. And then I ended up in stupid space. Froze to death. Ended up here. And now I'm a zombie Popsicle. I mean, look around!" He gestures to HellShine, in her shorts and T. "Look at that!" He gestures to Briena, probably a woman under the mysterious cloak and whatnot. "And that! Women! Women I can't do anything about, 'cause I'm neither drunk enough nor properly endowed anymore. I'm all frozen and the only part that works normally is my mouth, which can still work wonders mind, but it's all cold and purple and not very attractive." With his rant finished, Jarlas huffs, a pointless gesture since the rant took literally no breath, what with being a walking frozen corpse. "So, yeah. You wanna kill me," he asks, in a more friendly manner.

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"Woah, woah. Let's not be too hasty, now." Jarlas slowly holds up his hands. "I mean, yeah, that'd be the best way to go about it, so kudos to you on that, thanks a load man. But, well, I mean, being dead will suck too, I just won't know I'm dead. I'd rather not be dead for TOO long though. I'd need to find a spirit healer and damn, you know what they do to you, am I right?" He nudges the air. He was going to continue on that vein, or on some other vein; he had a really scathing retort and a good reason to want to find a priest and be fully alive rather than half dead or fully dead, but, in another dimension in a far away land, Jarlas had to suddenly take care of children, and crossing timelines and a dimensional rift suddenly rip the words right out of Jarlas' head. Needless to say, he just wants to get his booze on. "Would it help if I said I need to be alive in order to..." he pauses, what did Necromancers think of as a good cause? "Do, like, loads of necro-y stuff." Also, he noted the fact that The Woodland Elf was a woman too, and he'd hit it if he had it, but he didn't so he couldn't, etc.

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#, as written by Jarlas
"I want to be able to be alive again, and, y'know, have blood flow, for all the things that is good for. If you kill me all the way somebody who, y'know, won't make me a zombie can help, yeah? Those are around here, right? Right?" He nods. "Of course I'm right. So if you take the 'un-death' away, that'll be possible. I've never seen a zombie what can be 'ressurected,' 'cept one, and that was a really odd circumstance the details of which I'm still really, really fuzzy on, what with her being... er." He pauses and blinks. "Shit, I AM sober."

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Initially he didn't have much of a mind to respond to anyone else, but hey, if he annoyed enough people, surely things would work out in his favor eventually. Right? Best not question yourself now, Jarlas old boy, he says to himself. Turning towards Shimizu, he speaks in a serious tone. "I want to be alive so I can get my game on. Y'know, wenches and booze? Frozen, dead people tend to not get either." He was pleasantly oblivious to Vidious' planning to unmake him.

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Miffed from every direction. Jarlas had of course been slowly thawing over this time, but sitting in a kettle of hot soup or something would at least give him some better mobility, he hoped. Maybe he'd... I dunno. Somehow cook himself to death? Jarlas didn't really know where to go from there, but he was resourceful, even if he couldn't get blitzed. With another huff of annoyance, made all the louder by the lack of breath behind it, Jarlas continues his steadfast march towards the kitchen.

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Jarlas finally made his way into the kitchen. Ah, it was nice to be back in a kitchen. All the smells, the tastes, the... oh, right, dead. Jarlas' mood was instantly as sour as the lemons he couldn't taste stacked on a nearby palette. Really sour lemons were the worst, he reflected briefly. Clapping his hands together, slowly, he nods. "Alright, then. Time to warm up." Looking around, he starts to realize all the things he'd been ignoring in his journey were very, very apparent; he had no idea where he was. In fact, he'd never seen most of the equipment in the area. "I know going to space was a bad thing," he decides.

The culture shock passed quickly enough, as his quest came to the forefront of his mind once again: De-Zombie. Preferably with living. For the moment, that entailed getting himself warm enough to move around without being like a stone golem. He was ready for it. Not like he could feel anything. Sort of made him miss his first wife; she would've killed him in a heartbeat. Which he doesn't have, he'd remind everyone.

Settling on a large pot, he peers inside; it was big enough to hold him. He was a damn short elf, despite his rugged good looks and absolute attractiveness, being about five foot something or other. He wondered what was cooking; it looked like chili. Jarlas liked chili. Made a damn good chili himself. The irony that he was about to BE a damn good chili wasn't lost on him, though he had to admit being eaten wasn't what he wanted, at least not really. It took a good couple of minutes to climb in, but once he was in it was, well, like anything else now, what with the lack of feeling. That was the worst thing.

So it was the first chapter of Jarlas' life would end; Zombified, cooking in a chili, and desperate for a drink. If he had a diary, this would be his least favorite entry to write. But, such is life, sometimes. Such is life. And in another galaxy, another dimension, it was time for Jarlas to go to work.

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#, as written by Jarlas
Jarlas Fraiture also isn't a bipolar zombie, just a zombie who wants to die or live, depending on the circumstances.

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Time passes, and after quite a while, Jarlas decides to take a peek out of the kitchen. He has a bit more color to his skin now, but that's mostly due to the chili. He also smells fantastically of cooked meat, but that's mostly him. Sitting in a chili for over a day tends to do that. Still dead though, damn it. "Any priests hanging around?" Jarlas takes a cursory look about the presumably empty Gambit, and stands in the door to the kitchen for a little while.

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Once again, Jarlas decides to trust his luck at finding a priest, or trying a couple of other things anyways. Peeks his head out of the kitchen, smelling a lovely shade of Chili, and looking a bit proper cooked. "Hey, any Priests around here? Or, like, other manners of... non-zombie-ressurectors? Just wondering!" Brilliant plan, was his.

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"No? No priests?" Only slightly put off, Jarlas continues. "Alright, well, anybody want to... maybe kill me? Without really hurting my body, see. I want to be a not-zombie anymore, and well, being dead for a bit would be acceptable 'cause at least then I could find, I dunno, a spirit healer or something." After his short rambling session, he goes on. "So yeah, basically just looking to not be a zombie anymore! Any takers? Helpers? Ladies, looking for a handsome man to owe you a favor when he's got his blood flow back?"

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Being snuffed twice in a row wasn't Jarlas' bag, not in the least. Especially Zombie Jarlas, he especially disliked that. Striding into the room, he climbs on an unoccupied table and clears his throat. "Excuse me," he shouts! "I am looking for a Priest, or something to either kill me or bring me back to life! I am a Zombie and it sucks! Thank you." Crossing his arms, he looks about with a smile on his face.

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Jarlas turns to look at the snappy, annoyed man as he steps from the table. "Good! That'd be preferable. Just, y'know, keep it with the body will ya? And do you know a priest?" He began striding over towards the man, not quite as expertly as he might if he was alive, but, y'know, pretty smooth for a zombie.

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"Because I'm in a Tavern?" He says this as if it was the most obvious thing. "I mean, come on. Any priest worth his salt is gonna gather here. It's where all the dead folks go, so, y'know, if you're looking to resurrect some fool what got himself killed, or a poor unfortunate soul who happened to be misplaced in outer space... you get the idea!" Pausing, he scratches his chin. "I need to not be a zombie. So, whatever the means, they make the end, right?"

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Snuffed again. Man, this was the absolute worst. "Well... anyone else? Save a soul? Give a man a new life? Maybe kill him so he can finally go live again via some mystical means or other?" Jarlas looks around hopefully. He'd be half drunk by this time of the day under any other circumstance.