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Jules Restlin

The Dark Light of Eras

0 · 2,251 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
Jules Restlin 's head snapped in the direction of Uriel Thorn, the undead being drawing his attention like a magnet. His glowing eyes blazed fiercely as he howled, his conscious flooding back into him. Once the link was reestablished, Jules stood up quickly as he could, his strait jacket limiting his movements. The Lich looked at the vampire, to molly, then back again. He knew perfectly well what was going on; his feral subconscious was always easy to predict. Still, if he'd started something, even when not in control, he'd finish it. With a surge of necromantic magic, he tried to bend the vampire's will to suit his own. If it succeeded, Uriel would serve him for three rounds before the spell faded. In the mean time, the shades changed their strategy, ramming in unison instead of in syncopation.

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Jules Restlin would have smirked at Uriel if he had a mouth. As it stood, his ethereal voice merely offered a deathly cold cackle. "Whatever." he said in his ever smug voice. Jules was far more interested in Molly's ancient tome of spells than using a mere vampire as his tool. Seeing an opportunity in her distraction, Jules concentrated on his own form, bony blades slicing out from his back, giving him an appearance akin to a spider. With clicking sounds, the skeletal limbs would propel him towards where the book lay. His limp, strat jacketed form would sway meekly amidst the massive ligaments, tempting anyone into a foolhardy attack. The book was almost within reach...

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Jules Restlin chuckled out loud. This girl was kinda cute. "Woulda, but madness and all that." Jules said, two of the skeletal limbs snagging the dusty tome from its resting spot. "My book." he said with a sneer. Oh, being a sociopath was so great. Honestly, just asking for the book wouldn't have been half as showy, or fun. Of course, then the book disappeared through a shadowy hole. How tacky. Jules may have been egotistical, but he was not so foolish as to take on two opponents at a time. His skeletal limbs folded back into his body, the strait jacket seeming to fill out in previously empty spaces. Jules kept the shades out though. The dark masses of negative energy hovered around jules with deadly silence, itching to be unleashed again.

"I believe that you've got something of mine there." Jules said, his three eyes flashing.

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
"I guarantee nothing for a pile of walking leftovers." Jules said, his almost token arrogance manifesting again. What would he want with a book full of magic spells and incantations? Surely the question was asked in jest. Jules hadn't lived two years this way to not learn that every bit of arcane knowledge was precious; especially if this book held the secrets of manipulating demons. That was simply delicious. Jules nodded his head towards Molly.

"I will, however, guarantee it for her. She's far more interesting, not to mention I've technically known her longer." Jules said, his voice insufferably smug. Besides, once your subconscious madness has tried to kill someone, you feel a special bond towards them.

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Jules Restlin shook his head in bemused pity as two boney limbs sprouted from Jules's back. The razor sharp tips paged and leafed through the book, Jules's skilled eyes sifting through the child's play and looking for some real meat to think about next time his mind was taken by the screaming darkness. Then Jules saw it, way in the back. It was an obscure reference to a place of untold necromantic power. A land without life and perfect for honing the skills of a magic madman. Jules chuckled lowly to himself ingraining the thought throughout his being, so that his body would crawl towards that destination, however slowly. The skeletal limbs would slide back into his back with a sickening 'shlup' after he set the tome before Molly. Oh, how he wished to seize the book and and take it as his own, but the accursed Child of the Night would obviously try and do something about that. Jules turned to face Molly, his embalmed face in an expression one might interpret as elation.

"Thank you, my dear. My..." Jules choked on his next word ever so slightly, "...apologies for my former actions. I was not entirely present when I began my assault. By the way, Demon Manipulation, page one hundred and ninety six."

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Giving a glance at the bar one last time, Jules begins to shuffle towards the form, the shades surrounding him dissipating back into nothingness. All these fleshlings would be under his power one day; direct or otherwise. But he had a goal, and he knew where he was headed. Thoughts of the distant desert coursed through the Lich's mind as he moved out of the door. As the veil of madness began to fall over his cursed mind, the door to Gambit's closed, muffling a still audible scream of insanity, piercing through the rainy night. Power. Promises of such delicious power.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Dark Woods

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Jules Restlin would continue on his way, babbling incoherencies and spurts of mad laughter, seemingly taking no note of the other two...

The setting changes from Dark Woods to Gambit's Bar

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A howl could be heard outside before the shuffling, straitjacketed figure of Jules Restlin would come crashing through the doors of the bar. He'd been to the wastelands and back, and had learned terrible secrets of darkness. The trip showed on his sand worn and undead face. His three eyes looked at the patrons of the bar, flickering insanely with dark and tenebrous power. He suddenly collapsed to the floor, whimpering and seemingly chanting as he rocked back and forth. A person knowledgeable in the arcane would recognize him as a Lich of sorts.

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Jules Restlin totally did that last bit

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Jules Restlin 's eyes shined brightly at the sudden burst of sound. With a small, ethereal growl, he rotated his torso on the ground to face the prodigious body of Odegerel. His face is yet obscured by his messy hair, but three, brightly shining eyes can be seen from beneath the mop. "Her flesh...h-her flesh....eeeaugh...it comes back...I must..." Jules paused, his body suffering a massive spasm, "...I-I must have it." With that, his eyes flashed brightly and his back arched. An inky black cloud began to fill into the air around him, expanding outwards, unable to be pierced by any light. It surrounded him in a radius of twenty feet, enveloping the fiery woman and himself in complete shadow.

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
If Odegerel could see Jules through the pitch-black cloud that was expanding from him, she would see him flailing his head back and forth. "Can't stop. Can't stop. Can never stop. Always looking, always thinking. Need your flesh, need your flesh!" Jules said, his young sounding voice hitting a timbre of unparalleled horror and consternation, as if he feared his own actions. With that, he would attempt to cast a spell of Asphyxiation on the woman. If she did not have resistances, magical or otherwise, her windpipe would swell and block her lungs from getting air for the next three rounds.

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Jules Restlin twitches and writhes away on the ground from Odgerel slowly, his frantic spasms ruffling loudly on the ground. "It is...It is...It is neither of our...ch-choices...I'm afrraaaid...gya!" the young Lich screamed, his madness more than apparent. The dark gods that seized his minds demanded his actions, and he was powerless to resist their twisted whims. Though unseen in the inky blackness, two shades would burst from the Æther, tormented spirits hungry for raw energy. They would fly at the energy infused women with deadly silence, their very nature sapping heat from the air around them.

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The shades would indeed shriek in repulsion, not because of any specific belief or intent Odegerel put into her attack, but because of the sudden bursts of light. The harsh beams would tear through one of the hungry spirits, the torrent of energy too much for even the incorporeal being. Still, the shadows that oozed from Restlin's power would provide refuge for the other shade, granting a moment's sanctuary from the onslaught. Once the initial flurry of blasts had subsided, it charged at the woman again, this time trying to attack from behind. Meanwhile, Jules was whimpering quietly to himself...

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Jules Restlin would writhe his straitjacketed form closer and closer to Odgerel, his maddened mind undaunted by any type of threat. As the darkness spell lifted, several things would be revealed. First, the body of the shade would become visible, the receding shadows showing the wraith for what it really was; a twisting and amorphous cloud of hazy features such as legs and arms. Second, Jules's face; with its three eyes, the third below the right, and the absence of a mouth. Three, the newly sprouted boney limb, the bone reshaped from Jules's very own limbs, with a vicious blade on the end. The spined and bladed limb would reach up high before pausing.

With a sudden gasp, Jules's ethereal voice would stop whimpering and stammering mindlessly. The entrance of a vampire, another undead, had increased his connection to the realm of necromantic powers, thus allowing his mind, normally in the clutches of dark gods, to reconnect with his body. Jules's three eyes stopped shining brightly, and blinked, in confusion. Looking around, for a bit, the young Lich would turn back to the attractive woman, his uncanny eyes locking with hers. "My apologies."

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Jules Restlin retracted his transmuted ligament, and muttering a quick spell to shift his bones back into their normal configuration. With a quick flash of his eyes, the shade dissipated with a small howl. Jules slowly go to his feet, his messy hair falling back over his unnatural face. "Ah, such bravado is to be expected from a walking dynamo. Good for you, really. But there is no need to speak in such a childish manner to one such as I." Jules said, his arrogance as a Lich palpable. "Yes, I will indeed admit that my mind during most circumstances is in constant flux, and I will apologize for my attack. But..." Jules said, rotating his head towards the woman with unnatural precision, "if you so much as threaten me again, I will see fit to demonstrate my full capabilities when coherent."

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Jules Restlin scoffed in a manner reminiscent of a parent disregarding their toddler's inane rantings. Jules was not one to be threatened, not in so much that he felt he needed to defend his reputation, but that he didn't care. So the woman thought herself superior. Let her think that. It would be all too easy to destroy her with such deception clouding her judgement. Yet, now was not the time for idle combat. Jules had never met someone who absorbed raw energy for sustenance as he did. Yet, she was very much alive; that much was clear. "What manner of being are you that you can simply breathe fire into your body? Are you an anomaly, or are there more of your kind?" Jules asked. If she was not the only one of her kind, she, and others like her, would make fantastic undead servants...

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Jules Restlin tilted his head back in mock pensiveness, his black hair cascading back from his dry and leathery face. The blank patch of skin where a mouth should have been twitched slightly, as if all the necessary muscles remained. "Yes...in some of the more recent spell books written, there has been mention of humans who eat fire..." Jules lied, his three eyes blinking independent of each other. "They travel the barren wastes, maybe even on far reaching planets, absorbing the raw fire of the desert heat. If you want to find someone who thirsts for energy, that'd be the first place to look by my reckoning..." Jules finished, his ethereal voice echoing hauntingly.

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"A spell book, dear. One of many in my sepulchral library..." Jules said, his voice ever cool and perhaps a tad condescending. "As for what I would do to them...well...you don't even know what my other half was trying in the first place..." Jules said, looking at the woman with his unnerving eyes.

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Jules Restlin chuckled lowly. "Tell me about it..." he said. But he knew fully well why his subconscious mind had desired her; the ability to regenerate flesh through the absorption of energy would be a massive boon to himself. Normally, he needed energy to simply fuel his dark magics, but with tissue like hers, he could incorporate that trait into his own undead flesh, making himself nearly unstoppable as long as he had energy to devour. But perhaps it would have to wait until Jules understood just what made this woman tick. Then he could overcome her insipid defenses of raw energy with only a gesture of the mind. All in good time. "Well...", Jules said, rising from his place, "It has been lovely being locked in mortal combat with you this evening, but I'm afraid there is much I must attend to before the night is out. Farewell, little Fireball." the Lich said, stalking slowly towards the bar door...

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The normally howling figure of Jules Restlin walked calmly through where the door suddenly was again. His long, sepulchral hair hung heavily over his three unnatural eyes. What the young Lich did see though, was another one like him...an undead master of the, go figure, undead. He would have smirked to himself if he had a mouth, but as it was, the particular sect of undead masters he had trained under had seen fit to remove it. Though, Jules was getting used to seeing other undead in the bar, which was good, considering he'd go cripplingly insane if there weren't. That was magic for you, it didn't always go right. However, what had attracted him was his ability to sense dying flesh, and there was, in throes. He had been eager to harvest bodies for his own necromantic experiments, but the other Lich was not anticipated. Oh well, he'd just take them if it came down to it, which it probably would.

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