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Jules Restlin

The Dark Light of Eras

0 · 2,250 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 would like to note that he had frozen completely awhile ago, being unable to produce his own body heat. He was rather okay with this though, because he specialized in defending himself with his mind. Still, being immobile on the floor, rapidly being covered over with piles of snow, was still frustrating. And it if there was one thing every necromancer knew in this universe, it was that there is nothing that frustrates a Lich more than...another Lich within three miles of them. With that, A cloud of darkness would rapidly bloom from his form, filling the bar now with, not only impermeable cold, but impermeable shadow. Things were about to get heavy, undead style.

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#, as written by Tearen Wover
Jules Restlin grew tired of the other Lich's antics...both of them. Unfortunately, his particular brand of undead servants would have little effect on the unliving, but it would be prudent to call them nonetheless. The presence of yet another powerful undead entity would further strengthen the young Lich's bond with the dark realms that normally held his mind captive. His three eyes flashed brightly, illuminating the pile of snow that he lay under briefly. In the now receding darkness, patrons would be able to see seven hazy, shifting forms of three dark spirits, shades, hungry for life. It was a pity there would be none to be found in their target. With a brief mental prod, Jules sent his tormented servants flying towards the relaxed form of Anso. Though they normally fed on energy, they were more than capable of clawing at the Lich's spirit.

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Jules Restlin would allow his shades to press their attack as they saw fit. The tormented spirits had all the logic of an enraged shark, and would relentlessly pursue any target their master instructed. However, the other undead master had piqued Jules's interest. Reaching out with now unbridled necromantic power, Jules took possession of the body that once belonged to Em Sparrow. His dark mind filled the frozen form with overpowering force, animating the rigid body into movement. The body's brittle limbs would snap and crackle as they began to move again, bits of solidified skin snapping away from the body. With labored steps, the possessed corpse lumbered towards the resplendent form of Sabrath. The frosty eyes would snap up, looking into the pin prick lights that were the Pale Lord's own. Jules's words would come slowly from the frozen mouth, but surely.

"Well...well...well...we seem to be acting in the manner of a true undead master. I am Jules Restlin. Give me your name."

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Jules Restlin 's temporary body scoffed loudly, his ego as a Lich rivaling Sabrath's own. Jules rarely, if ever, listened to any being, intent to seize, corrupt, and experiment as he saw fit. Yet, as a Lich, he knew the rules. He just hadn't expected someone to call him out on them. The particular sect that he had learned under was not well known for its coherence to the laws of the undead set forth by the tenebrous Gods of the netherworld, but it was committed to maintaining an outward appearance of cooperation. That didn't mean Jules had to like it. He refused to like it. Still, he called off the petty attack directed at Anso, the shades looping back around to surround the undead teen's own body. Their dark eyes gleamed hungrily at the other patrons of the bar, very much on a hair trigger standby.

The frozen body crossed its arms, sickening pops issuing from the flesh beneath the equally unnerving blackened skin. Jules furrowed the body's brow.

"What do you want then?" he asked, his impatience unmasked.

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Jules Restlin gestured the corpse's hand towards the advancing form of Anso on his real body. "My problem is only with the other of our kind assaulting all within his presence with neither process nor apparent reason. Since that includes myself, I saw fit to retaliate. However..." Jules said, the corpse's eyes glaring at the Pale Lord "...if you would carry a vendetta with me, let it rest until the current breach of conduct is addressed." the teen lich growled in a low, chilling voice. With a flash of necromantic power, he assigned the body to defense duties. The now howling, mindless corpse of Ms. Sparrow now surged at Anso, in conjunction with a surge of aggression from the remaining shades hovering around Jules' body. Anso would find that it was impossible to drain energy from shades, as they were manifestations of pure negative energy. He would have to do better than a Death Shroud to shield himself from the attack.

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The wildly howling and clawing corpse that Jules had animated would indeed be obliterated by the smashing pillars of ice, frozen limbs flying in many directions before the muggy swampland overtook the omni-present cold. The shades, being incorporeal, did not need to fear the machinations of solid magic, and passed straight through the icey wall with nary a whisper. With deadly silence, they would begin to assault the creaking form of Anso, their ghostly limbs would, if not somehow countered, tear at the Lich's magic powers, sapping his ability to cast even the slightest glamor. As Jules's form began to thaw from the encroaching swampland, his sepulchral flesh would begin to twitch and repair itself as the ice fell from it. Again the orb of shadow would flow from Jules' body, the deeper darkness strengthening his shades resolve and power.

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Jules Restlin was now completely thawed out

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Jules Restlin grew weary of squaring off with the undisciplined ice Lich, calling his shades back to his side. His straitjacketed form lurched up off of its feat, his messy hair falling over his face like a curtain. Large, sharply tipped, boney limbs would sprout from his back, impaling the too thawing form of Ema Sparrow. The torso and arms and legs of Ema would hang from the limbs like twisted shishkebab. Happy with this capture, Jules extended his death sense, and was intrigued with what he found. There was a person in the bar that was both alive and dying, rotting as she was alive. It was a delightfully interesting idea, and Jules lurched steadily towards The Figure, the body and limbs danglingly sickly from the giant bone meathooks sprouting from his strait jacketed back.

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Jules Restlin raised an eyebrow at the skeleton in front of him. He would have offered a smirk as well, if he had a mouth. "I took care of that awhile ago bud." Jules said, walking past the darkly clothed...man and looking at the arm of the darkly clothed woman. A curse, no doubt, of necromantic nature. Jules was curious about the affliction. He bent his embalmed and preserved body down to get close to the rotting arm, a wicked glint coming into his eye...yes...he could do something about that.

"Miss, I can't help but notice your arm is falling off. I have, in my power, the ability to...repair that...if you can offer something of equal value." Jules' echoey, magic voice said. Noticing the ice Lichs' renewed attack, Jules briefly twisted his head, and glowered at the skeletal mage. The shades would again burst towards the Lich in throes, totally unaffected by any decaying effect for they were not organic, or physical, in any way shape or form.

"Get bent, freezie pop!"

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/me's eyes flashed at The Assassin, attempting to cast a 'Bone Shape' spell on his body. If it worked, all of the skeleton's joints would fuse together immobilizing him. Jules turned his head towards The Figure, his eyes still glinting.

"I was hoping that I could have your old arm in return." he said, a mischievous tone in his voice.

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Jules Restlin would attempt to cast a 'Bone Shape' spell on The Assassin. If it worked, the skeleton's joints would fuse together, effectively immobilizing him. It didn't really stop his opponent's attack though, as the blade would lodge itself deep inside of Jules' grayish colored neck. Jules had hoped to be able to turn his head towards The Figure, but current events forbade that. Nevertheless, he spoke to her in his eery, mischievous voice. "I was hoping to have your old arm in return."

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Jules Restlin would chant in a low voice before a necromantic aura of death would surround him. The field would absorb any energy around him, including thermal, essentially quenching the flame, though the initial burns still marred his grayish skin. "I don't operate inside leagues, skeletor. I was thinking that helping your friend would NOT provoke an attack. Buuuut..." Jules' eyes would glint as they always did when summoning necromantic power. This time, he forced his prodigious dark powers on The Assassin's own frame, casting a 'Bind Undead' spell. If the skeletal warrior could not resist the magic, he would cease his advance for at least one turn.

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Jules Restlin allows the long blade to drive itself through his undead noggin. His three eyes blink, and his jaw lifts, as if he were smiling. "Been there, done that." the Lich said. With a snapping sound, the long, spear like limbs sprouting from Jules' back would fling the heavy carrion dangling from them at The Assassin, hoping to distract him momentarily. The spear arms would then drive themselves at The Assassin's skull, in nothing more than sheer tit for tat retaliation.

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Jules Restlin wriggled his straitjacketed body rapidly, as two more boney spear limbs burst from his back. Instead of attacking the skeletal figure, however, they prop themselves into the ground, magic driven strength pulling Jules' body off of the ground with a large, wet sound. The other two limbs would follow suit, pulling out of The Assassin's boney face and also propping the the ground like long, bleached legs. Jules now looked rather like a large, sepulchral spider with a green, dripping torso. The green goo covered the Lich's perforated face now, making it difficult to see. That was okay. The remaining four shades under Jules' control flew at The Assassin with enraged silence. The dark ghosts would pass through solid matter effortlessly as they homed in on their new quarry, intent on draining the skeletal man of any kind of energy.

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Rather than activating the maddening aura of necromantic unenergy again, Jules simply ducked the fountain of fire. The Lich cackled along with his skeletal dance partner, his long limbs making loud thuds on the hard wood. "Correction: Kill me again. Whoever hired you obviously hasn't had much experience with my kind." Jules quipped. He was well aware of the fact that a blade had little effect on a skeleton, a being without flesh or organ. He rapidly shaped the tips of his spidery limbs into large, blunt, hammer like ends, and swung them heavily at the Assassin's limber form.

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Rather than activating the maddening aura of necromantic unenergy again, Jules simply ducked the fountain of fire. The Lich cackled along with his skeletal dance partner, his long limbs making loud thuds on the hard wood. "Correction: Kill me again. Whoever hired you obviously hasn't had much experience with my kind." Jules quipped. He was well aware of the fact that a blade had little effect on a skeleton, a being without flesh or organ. He rapidly shaped the tips of his spidery limbs into large, blunt, hammer like ends, and swung them heavily at the Assassin's limber form.

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Jules Restlin was beginning to feel pressed. Not worried. Pressed. The feeling of worry was one of the few things that had stayed dead when he was brought back to life. But his inner monologue digressed. Throwing one of his four javelin like limbs up to shield him, what had once been a spike now expanded into a large, flat plate. The bone, not being highly flammable, was merely scorched by the renewed attack. Jules was unsure of the skeleton's revelation. It could just be a ruse to get Jules to pursue a pointless target. Well...if that was how this was going to be played...Jules spied the man that he had attacked whilst his mind had been away. If this assassin figure had been hired by someone, it was someone with grievances towards the lich. The other man was a primary suspect for The Assassin's contractor, and therefore, his payment.

Issuing a necromantic order, the four shades, which had up until this point been ramming impotently against the magic barrier, flew at Norrington, intent on murdering The Assassin's payroll quite handily. It was worth a shot.

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Jules Restlin raised one sepulchral eyebrow at The Assassin. Most liches were lawful beings, bound by the rules of engagement and fair play. Jules...not so much. He was from a different camp. Shifting his one limb back into a hammer. He would lunge towards the blue canister, hoping it would explode or something upon the hammer's impact.

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*wouldn't explode

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Jules Restlin blinked. Once. It was not in his cunning nature to become infuriated with anything, his eternal existence owed to equally eternal patience. But this battle grew tedious. He reminded himself that, even if this particular body was destroyed, a new one would be ready to take its place back at his clan's infernal dwellings. Still...this was Jules' original body, and the young Lich might not yet be ready to accept his flesh as forfeit for his eternal spirit. With that in mind, he'd leave this body for the time being, rendering it dead, by in all means of the word. The dessicated yet still viable remains of Ema Sparrow lay across the room, still thawing from the events just awhile ago. Chanting in a deep, guttural tongue, Jules' eyes shined brightly as small stars, then faded. The body, skeletal limbs and all, would go limp, clattering into the magic shield, even as the diced cadaver across the room propped itself up on its one good arm and began to gather its assorted pieces.

"Death...doesn't really apply here, boner." Jules said, extremely pleased with his maneuver.

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