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Jules Restlin

The Dark Light of Eras

0 · 2,265 views · located in The Ruins

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Tearen Wover

Description

APPEARANCE

Despite being a lich, Jules appears to be a (mostly) fair looking young man of soft, refined features. He has flowing raven hair that is dressed in brass and gold tassels that drops down to his chest. He wears an incredibly long, hoodless cape of red and black silk, which wraps around his jagged white-and-gold plate armor like a shadowy cloud. One of his most notable features is the third eye on his face, located just below his right eye, which never closes. All of his eyes shine with the dull, red light of Eras.

HISTORY

Despite being relatively young, Jules has a long history in the Multiverse. A native of Terra, he learned several basic principals of necromancy at the relatively young age of 25, and rapidly became fascinated by becoming a lich. When he attempted it on himself, the process was faulty and resulted in him becoming a nearly mindless undead lunatic. After being killed for the first time, he spent some time climbing the demonic ranks of Hell before being resurrected by his own power. Now the Demon Lord of Heresy, he went about wreaking havoc in the mortal world before being slain once again by a cleric. With no way to escape the power of Hell, Jules gave up his demonic powers and pledged service to the eldritch god Nyarlathotep. That didn't turn out well either, so Jules went into hiding to the far reaches of the Multiverse and discovered the deeply magical planet of Gaia. Now, wiser and stronger, he has once again attempted lichdom, and succeeded. Jules Restlin now spends his quiet days in the dark depths of Gaia, researching her dead gods and forgotten past, looking for a way for him to surpass all mortal limits...


BIO
Age: 33
Race: Human Lich
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 93 lbs.
Meta:
- Undead
- Radiates Negative Energy at Will
- Incorporeal Flight at Will
Conditions:
- Undead
Strengths:
- Endless Endurance
- Undying
- No Metabolism
Weaknesses:
- Frail
- Slow

ASSETS
Wealth: Affluent
Land:
-Great Swaths of the Gaian Underdark
-Renovated Ilithid Fortress "Urz'gechal"
Notable Equipment:
- Demonbone Armor
- Brooch of Tenebreth
- Sphere of Despair
Primary Skills:
- Vancian Wizardry: Necromancer
- Diplomacy
- Leadership

So begins...

Jules Restlin's Story

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Once inside, Jules stopped to have a breather. He laughed maniacally, looking at the cuts and bruises he had gained in the fight as they sealed up. Apparently, the devils had never realized that their augmentation of the trapped souls was a boon at its core, though Jules noted that the healing wounds glowed a violent orange and hurt immensely...more so than they should have in some cases. His teeth unclenched as a gash on his wrist sealed itself back up, before turning his attention to the reeking chiton. Casting Bone Shape again, Jules binded the bones to his body, providing him both clothing and mild protection. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but it was far better than nothing. Saying a quick incantaion, Jules' eyes lit up brightly, the yellow light illuminating the cave as it went deeper. Wait...this went downwards. That was the last place Jules wanted to go. But the pull of the portal had definitely come from this direction. Steeling himself against the encroaching darkness, Jules walked onwards, careful to stay close to his buffer from the environment trying to kill him.

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test

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Jules Restlin turned back towards Jean-Paul, grinning widely. "Oh yes. Besides, you don't think we're the first people to try and get out of here do you? There's gotta be some contingency for this sort of thing..." Jules said, turning back to walk down the otherwise pitch black path. These headlights of his weren't just convenient. Jules was detecting for magic, a walking dowsing rod that allowed him to sense danger in front of him. But oddly enough, nothing approached them. The cave just went on and on and on. Suddenly Jules stopped, and looked around. They had not moved an inch.

"God dammit!" Jules shouted, feeling slightly like a tool. He had expected something a bit more virulent from Hell, just now some cheap house of mirrors bullshit.

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Jules Restlin stalked around the cave uncomfortably as Jean-Paul did his thing. Bible thumpers always made Jules a bit nervous, and not in just the fact that he was a patron of the dark arts outside of christianity. To him christians meant hypocrites, liars, despots, and dogmatic fools. People who abandoned logic and reason for a faith he himself took little stock in. So the point was to be nice to each other. It would be awesome if everything else in the multiverse that had never even heard of God wasn't trying to fuck you over.

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Jules Restlin scratched his head, the chitin plates clacking softly. "No" he said flatly. He blinked, temporarily plunging the cave into darkness. He felt the ground underneath them shift violently. He looked back, and the entrance was barely visible, hundreds of feet above them. "Oh...I get it." Jules said. He blinked again, turning off the cone of detection and light. Yeah, now it made sense. This was a test. It had to be. "We have to move forward blindly, because Hell is a bitch." Jules said. It made sense. Convenient things were less likely to happen as time progressed, as the natural, trapping ability of Hell learned their abilities and figured out ways to keep them put, likely, until more demons showed up.

"Let's go..." he grumbled, trudging off into the darkness, trying to stay next to Jean-Paul.

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Jules Restlin stopped walking, and heard a large shuffle as seemingly hundreds of other feet came to a stop. Turning around slowly, Jules could no longer see the entrance they had come in through. Reactivating his spell, Jules looked in mild surprise to the faces of hundreds upon hundreds of damned souls. There was no mind, no coherence in those eyes. There was only slavery, submission and hopelessness. Jules took a step back. "Uy..."

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"I think..." Jules said, looking intently into the blanched eyes of a woman before him, "They're the ones who are following us." Jules said, taking the gaunt, paradoxically cold face in his hands. "And I think..." Jules said, pulling the woman closer to him, "...these aren't their eyes anymore." Jules said, his own brightened eyes reflecting into the blank eyes in front of him. "Run." Jules said.

Taking Jean-Paul by the arm, he began to surge forward through the crowding bodies, clammy skin clapping against him as he occasionally slashed clean through a stubborn soul with a quickly formed bone blade. He had to shut off his eyes to continue forward, but the orange glow of the wounds he was inflicting on the damned were enough light to see that there we more than previously imagined. Looking back, Jules saw a faint red glow beginning to approach from behind...

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The spirits began to scream in a cacophonous wail as the red glow grew closer, Jules gritting his teeth through the noise. Perhaps a one way chase through a packed tunnel going down in Hell had been a bad idea. Nothing ventured...Jules looked back in a mild panic, to see a massive torrent of bloody lava sloshing down the tunnel at a worrying speed. At the head there was a massive, red, flaming demon in a chariot drawn by horses of fire. It laughed coldly as it surged after them, its firey whip cleaving damned souls clean in half as it sped along. Escaping Hell was looking to be harder than previously imagined. Jules suddenly whipped around and stopped in his tracks, staring right at the advancing demon, uttering a deep and forboding spell.

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Uttering the final, powerful syllable of the incantation caused a sickly, tight beam of light to blast from Jules' eyes. The beam slammed into the Demon's own, causing the infernal being to howl with rage. All at once the lava steeds, and the demon retreated, howling madly for their lives. Jules cackled loudly as the spirits recoiled, taking a few opportunities to slash stragglers to pieces. After all was quiet again, well, quiet in the sense that the mass of souls was whimpering and mumbling in deep fear, Jules turned off his eye lights. The Demon would not be gone for long, and it was best they get a move on. Taking a male soul by the hair, Jules slashed an arm off, brightly glowing orange blood dripping everywhere. Jules held the bloodied limb high in the air, the limb barely passing as a makeshift torch. Jules beckoned to Jean-Paul and marched on.

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"Well isn't that just dandy, why dont-gugh!" Jules grunted. He hadn't seen where he was going, and now, well, now there was a door. They weren't just any doors though, they were the doors to Gambit's bar. Even the flickering neon sign lingered over head in the cave, covered with blood and cave ichor. Jules looked behind them. All the souls were gone, and the cave melted into a shadowy, grayscale image of downtown Wing City. "Don't tell me this is the portal..." Jules said, tugging open the doors. It wasn't.

Jules opened the doors to be treated to a torrent of blood and bones, sending him flying back a few feet, spots on his skin tearing open as he bounced along the cobblestones. Eventually, the flood subsided, allowing Jules to stand up, his own, glowing, orange blood mixing with the rotting, stinking blood of Gambit's. Jules knew what this was...probably. Stepping inside, he flicked on the light switch.

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Well, there was a lot of bodies. The dim lights flickered on one at a time, revealing a massive wall of rotting, fetid corpses stacked almost to the ceiling. Unspeakable things slithered in and out of the corpses, tongues of flame shooting from their glistening hides. Every patron, important or not, that had ever fallen in Gambits, their body was here, buried or not. Jules saw his own, boney speared legs still jutting from his back, lying just a few corpses down in the pile. The body's eyes were wide open, a hollow stare reaching on for most likely, eternity.

"This is some stupid illusion. My body should have gone to the God's whose name I can't pronounce. What's the deal, Hell?" Jules asked, nothing in particular.

"The Deal..." all of the bodies said in unison, "is perspective."

Well, even that put Jules off a little bit. The doors slammed shut, trapping the pair in the perverted shadow of the bar, probably unable to escape. "So, what, who are you? If we're gonna keep playing games, you can at least be straight up. The bodies laughed.

"I am him."

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"I'm not a Lich anymore..." Jules said quietly. Because in truth, he wasn't. The bodies cackled again. "You're just a damned soul who got lucky." the bodies said, all glaring at Jean-Paul simultaneously. "We've dealt with the would be jailbird before. You're not going to get out of here, heh." the voices said, all murmuring at different timbres and accents.

"What are you going to do then 'him'? I've got boyo hear to rapture me outta this pit." Jules said, gesturing towards the priest. The bodies laughed again. Jules was getting tired of that. "His little circle of virtue can't keep me at bay for long." the bodies said, again glaring at Jean-Paul. Jules had had enough. He marched towards the wall of bodies and drove his hand down the throat of one who's mouth hung widely open. Using Bone Shape again, Jules caused the body to flay itself apart, collapsing the wall, partially.

"Let's go. I've got to get the scent for the portal back." Jules said, his headlights flicking on with a blink. Jules understood what this was now; A message. As if they needed that

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Jules Restlin cocked his head. That was it? Fending off two little demons and a forty five minute romp through the dark? Surely the Legions of Hell were more persistent than that. Jules followed Jean, keeping a wary eye out for approaching devils and demons. He looked behind him, the corpses from the room still watching them as they climbed the stairs. Jules actually almost shuddered. Almost. It was remarkable though, how that every time either one of them took a step, the platform crumbled into dust, revealing the Hellscap they had traipsed through below. Presumably. Hell was seeming to be a little loopy.

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Jules Restlin glared at Jean-Paul for just a moment. Liches didn't make attachments, nor friends. They made servants. But Jules' expression softened after a moment, looking off to the side. He wasn't a Lich anymore. Not here. "My name is Jules Restlin." he said, and that was it. There would be no shaking of hands, no nodding of heads. It was all he would begrudge the holy man before him at that moment.

Jules began to march towards the pyramid steadily, the cracking, thunderous boom of the crumbling plateau behind the two. With a burst of rage, a dark, cloudy aura cloaked Jules as he threw his arms outwards. A sneer on his face, he gazed up at the demon covered pyramid before them, the obsidian black structure glowing with orange, cryptic runes. Wait...he knew this language. Infernal. He'd studied it before his transformation into a Lich. Perhaps he could glean something useful from the inscriptions.

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Jules Restlin ran his fingers along the pyramid, reading what he could through the writhing mass of infernal beings. As the first of Jean's kills thundered into the ground next to him. Jules immediately, lashed out at it with his Death Shroud, withering the Demon's head into nothing. Looking back at the glowing runes, Jules turned to the red hot glowing corpse and swirled his hands over it. The body of the demon began to evaporate into a dark, swirling ball of energy, until it was about the size of a basketball. The dark orb swirled above Jules's hands as the necromancer tossed the negative energy at a section of the pyramid, immediately reducing a large swath of demons into dark haze. Jules beamed. Reaching out with his hands, he framed the dark mist, his eyes glowing brightly as he screamed and incantation. The mists ebbed, flowed and coalesced into three of his most favorite things in the world; Shades. With a final roar of a magic word, the shades tucked into their demonic foes.

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Jules Restlin touched his hands to a fallen Demon's wings, large wings of his own bursting from his back in a spray of orange blood. Jules no longer fancied himself a necromancer. He was a conduit of negative energy, free to twist, harvest, and manipulate energy and life as he saw fit. Taking to the air, and landing on the pyramid, Jules took the slavering face of a demon in his own hands, siphoning the creature's strength. The simple properties of negative energy he had learned from the pyramid...they were delicious! Claiming the creatures muscles as his own, he shed the wings that weren't his and tossed the infernal husk at the tendril. He charged and bullrushed a demon too close to Jean who was threatening to pull him off the steep step. Jules was, of course, cackling madly.

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Jules stole the strength of another two demons, his molten blood turning an iridescent purple with malign and cruelty. He turned the husks into more shades to ravage the pyramid, the others he'd created being torn asunder by the column of holy light. Jules was about to climb another step, but there was a great rumbling. Suddenly, in an explosion of obsidian rock, a giant, bloated demon burst out of the side of the pyramid, its fat fingers wrapping around jules. Large, iron poles pierced its inflamed body. Jules struggled in the grip of the towering brute, but the strength could not be overcome. The beast began to haul Jules towards its gaping maw, the faces of other consumed souls frothing there, trying to get out. Jules could not focus on his incantations under these conditions, his yellow eyes flashing impotently.

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The creature roared as Jean-Paul drove his sword into its eye, bashing its head against the wall to dislodge the bothersome mite. Jules sent a command to his shades while the creature was distracted, the dark spirits charging down the demon's slavering, toothy gullet. It seemed to have no effect first, until dark, billowing clouds burst out of the creatures mouth and eyes. After a moment, it lay limp, spent, and quite dead. Jules pulled his hand up, the bones around his wrist forming into a large blade as he plunged his arm deep into the monster's chest. With a rumble of black sparks, the creature heaved to life again with a forlorn moan, crawling fully out of the pyramid and placing Jules on its back, the necromancer holding onto one of the spines impaling the creature. Jules whistled to Jean as the monstrosity began to lumber up the pyramid, clearing a wide path from encroaching demons. Jules kept larger foes away by casting bolts of negative energy at them, inky black darts that ripped through energized tissue like nothing.

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"Purity?" Jules called out behind him, the thunderous stomping of the monster making it even harder to hear over the screams of the demons. "Oh, I'm pure baby. Pure evil. But humor me, what's this test of yours?" Jules said, looking back at Jean with leering, yellow eyes. He caught an imp flying by with his hands, his senses heightened from the absorption of demonic energies. He felt like a god of death right now, killing as he pleases. The imp struggled in his grasp, and Jules cackled at it, the imp poofing into a black smoke with a shrill shriek. Jules coalesced the smoke and hurled it at an encroaching bruiser.

He eyed the demon at the top hungrily.

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Jules may have had some good in him before now. As a Lich he felt cursed with having to coax meaning from life in the form of friends and company, clinging to his fellow mages like a nursing child. No, now all Jules needed was power. Jules dismounted from the giant behemoth he rode upon, jamming his hand down into the socket with out an eye. The flesh of the creature began to bubble and erode as jules siphoned the demonic energies from it. The air shimmered around him with an aura of absolute malice. He gathered the energies up into a compressed, swirling vortex of negative energy in his hand, the super heated air hissing around it as the absolutely cold power writhed in Jules' grasp. With the flick of a wrist, he sent the stream of black energy down at Jean, intent on ridding himself of the emotional parasite he'd had to put up with thus far. He smirked maniacally as the demon's test passed through him. Evil.

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