It had been an eventful evening. It started when a young succubus ventured into the Dark Abyss, wanting a peek at the face of the Dark Lord. Having heard the stories of him, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Upon arriving, she found no one home and proceeded to make herself comfortable upon the Throne of the Unnamed. Playfully she handled the carvings and objects, many of which were made of skulls and bones when unexpectedly a noise echoed from an adjoining room scaring her from her perch. 
As she fled the Abyss and was running back to the safety of her home on TornOak, she took a wrong turn and ended up in the drink, nearly drowning in the River Thames. As she pulled herself up and onto the shore, she crawled across a corpse that had washed ashore, a decayed dark skeleton. The only skin that remained on the body appeared to be badly scarred. Strangely the skin doesn’t look as if the water had rotten away the flesh, but something else. There are torn remnants of a dark black cloak wrapped around some of the limbs. Not tied but it appeared this was the persons clothing. There is a glint of silver embedded on the end of the limb that is the arm, but there is no hand. Looking at the silver object, it appears to be a bracelet withthe letter “V” inscribed in it. The bracelet seems to be moulded to the arm as there is no obvious way to get it off the body.
She looked intensely at the body then her face lit with recognition as she was sure this was why the Throne of the Dark Abyss had been unoccupied. She ran through the town screaming that the Dark Lord was dead, quite sure everyone would celebrate, she was taken aback when the opposite in fact had occurred. Not only was there a lack of celebration, but there were those who refused to believe that it could be true.
The body was removed to the morgue where an autopsy was preformed. Nothing conclusive was found other than a piece of jewelry with the letter ‘V’ inscribed on it. The bracelet was examined and found to be inscripted with the family emblem of the Vendae. Leigh Huet, daughter of the Dark Lord remained adamant that though all evidence pointed to the fact that the Dark Lord was indeed dead, he was very much ‘undead’ and took the bracelet with her back to the cafe where she placed it in a safe until she could decide to whom it did belong.
Meanwhile, the body had disintegrated upon the removal of the bracelet leaving nothing but so much mud and slime on the autopsy table. With every indication other than the emotional hopes of a daughter to indicate that the corpse was indeed that of the Dark Lord….could it be true?..Could the Dark Lord indeed be dead?
The old man sat, mumbling to no one in particular, warmed by the ale and the fire, in no great hurry to head back out into the never-ending night and the fog which permeated everything with a heavy dank mist. No, the Ten Bells was home, or at least it was daily form opening until close at which time the proprietress would shoo him out the door, with her broom if need be. So he would sit, and stare out the window, muttering, “Azrael, the fallen”…..”Wormwood, Wormtongue”…Then he would drink, and hum, and nod off, only to wake at the slightest noise shouting, “We had him!”….drooling a bit, glancing up at no-one present he would contend..”I know and my superiors know certain facts, “The Ripper wasn’t a butcher, Yid or foreign skipper…you’d have to look for him not at the bottom of London society at the time but a long way up.” He would laugh maniacally, raising his stein in a toast to an invisible partner, grin and proceed to quaff the contents.
