This will not continue past one solid storyline, just to say. I got the idea from a dead roll of tin foil :)
Wednesday 21st December, 1924
It was a cold winters night, when one single, simple, normal human wandered to the end of a British Pier.
His name was Erol, a quite normal name during the 1920's. He was a tall, proud, silver haired old man. Who had lived through two wars, and fought valiantly in both of them, but in recent years had spent his life on street corners, with near enough not even a penny to his name.
He wore a long, brown tailcoat that scraped along the ground, and had done for the many years he had owned it. The tail was ragged, and the colour and neatness differed greatly from the rest of the proud, noble piece of clothing.
The Pier is gone at the time of this writing. Burnt away into the ocean, the dead splinters of wood washed away into the deep, black sea.
The moon was full, the sky was full of stars. Bright stars that burnt through the atmosphere and spread a pale white light upon the empty pier.
Erol made his way to the end of the pier, not once changing his stern expression. He placed his hand on the rotten wooden railing and looked out across the empty ocean. Only a solitary ship floated miles out, a bright flashing light making sure everyone in range knew of it's existence.
Erol took a breath, a deep, long breath, and exhaled. He then removed a Webley Mk IV revolver and shot himself in the temple.
Two hours passed. As the night drifted onward, the sea continued to rush towards the beach, and slowly retreat away.
Dark blood, which poured freely from Erol's wounded head, and flowed through the gaps in the wooden slats of the pier, and into the water below.
Around four in the morning, another life stepped onto the rotting pier, the huge structure creaked, as the man, a lanky, vicious looking rat like man, named only as Mr. Viper, stepped slowly, only putting his feet on the solid wooden planks, the some two hundred metres to the end of the pier.
The sight of Erol's cold, empty corpse would shock any other soul who came across it. But not Mr. Viper. He knelt down, not deterred even in the slightest by the rapidly spreading halo of blood around Erol's head.
He checked the wound, and then climbed to his feet. He reached to his waist, and revealed a long scabbard. From it, he removed a long, silver piece of tube, about as long as his forearm.
The moonlight reflected slightly on it, then a stream of inscribed symbols began to glow a bright, neon purple.
They were a sentence, but not even that.
A name. Just one name.
'Erol Jonathan Percival Brown- Wallace'
Mr. Viper did nothing for a moment, just stared deeply upon Erol's dead bpdy, and then at the strange, glowing item. Then, he ran his fingers across the inscripition, chanting one single word- Aevum- under his breath.
Aevum. Aevum. Aevum.
Then, Erol woke up.
"I honestly didn't think you'd have it in you, Erol," Mr. Viper said, removing a napkin from his pocket.
Erol looked down, awe struck, at the sea of his own blood on the floor. He took the napkin, and wiped the remainder of sticky, congealing fluid from his head, which was now free of any sort of wound.
"It... works..." Was all Erol could manage. He reached for the tube, but Mr. Viper moved it slightly from his reach and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently away.
"It does. And thanks to you we can make huge leaps towards bringing the Mortuus Animus
back to their world," Mr. Viper replied, holding the tube at eye level,"
"What is that thing?" Erol said, lifting his hand, only slightly, at the tube, which was now burning with a dark crimson colour.
Mr. Viper laughed, a dead laugh. A laugh that pierced Erol's soul at the core, a laugh that would make even a skeleton shiver.
"This... well, we call it a Vita Vas. A Life Vessel," Mr. Viper explained, sliding his index finger across the length of the Vita Vas, "When you answered our advertisement, we took your Life Force, and stored it in the Vita Vas," He tapped it, signifying Erol's inscribed name.
"Why?" Erol asked.
"To test it. It is an old idea. The Vita Vas' were designed centuries ago, by the Mortuus Animus... the Dead Souls- the true creators of this universe. We promised to pay your family a large sum of money should you do what we told you to without question,"
"Oh! Just my luck, I put my life in the hands of some insane cult!"
"This 'insane cult', just brought you back from the Dead Lands," Mr. Viper said, as Erol threw his hands to his head, his face disfigured with shock, "Remember it? Remember the horrors of that world of evil? The world where the Dead go? The world of the Dead Souls? The creatures that stalked the lands, the rivers of blood and the sky of dust and black diamonds?"
"Stop it!" Erol cried, dropping to his knees, "Please... stop,"
"You have failed us, Erol. You are useless to us now, thank you for your assistance, and as much as I regret this, i'm afraid that you must return to the Dead Lands. Goodbye," Without changing his face one, Mr. Viper lifted the Vita Vas, and brought it down on the railing. It shattered, shards flying off into different directions.
A howling noise erupted through the air as purple tendrils escaped from the broken Vessel. Erol clutched at his heart, crying out, only for his voice to fade into nothingness, as he gasped only once, and fell face first to the Pier floor.
Mr. Viper looked over his body for a few lingering moments, and then at the broken Vita Vas.
"This was a waste," He said, before dropping the Vessel into the freezing water below.
Do not become disheartened, came a voice from nowhere, the horrors of the Dead worlds are often too much to handle. Only twenty more souls are needed for the resurrection, we will rise again, and you shall have everlasting glory in our new world!
"Yes... masters," Mr. Viper said, and wandered away from Erol's once again empty body.
Once at the end of the pier, Mr. Viper wandered down to the beach, and stood under the dying structure. He took a sharp piece of ruby coloured metal about half of the size of the Vita Vas, and pointed it way from himself.
He tapped the thicker end twice with his finger, and two quick spurts of flames erupted from the tip, catching on one of the thick legs of the pier.
Despite the moist air, the wood lit up, as the fire spread without question to the pier above.
As the pier burned, and Mr. Viper wandered off into the night, on another ethereal plane, four eyeless, hooded men watched through a gate in matter, waiting silently for the time in which they would be brought back into their world, to destroy all who had taken it from them.