Alone. pts 1 and 2

Frowning at his current predicament, he considers taking it to the next level. A level in which he would hope to accomplish much. He takes a 7-millimeter pistol from its holster around his slim waste. The arcane knowledge that he had learned so very long ago, filled his thoughts of what he could do, if he decided to do it. He placed the gun on the bar counter in front of him. If the other patrons were alarmed, they did not show it. And why should they? The un-natural is natural at this bar. He sighs to himself, regretting his indecision. He soon thinks it might be better to do this. Who would miss Tyreal Sombringer? Certainly not his clan, whom he would give his life for, if need be. The vampires hated him, (but the again, they hated most mortals.) He finally decides to do it. He places his right hand over the pommel of the gun. He began chanting silently, filling the gun with more energy than the gun had ever seen before. He could feel the magic, infused through out his body. The energy traveling from hand to gun was immense. The pommel began to glow a bright green, under his hand, and the barrel of the gun, began to move and change shape, to better fit the growing bullet. Perspiration begun to form on his upper lip and fore head. He stopped his chanting, but left his hand over the gun, because he could still feel the remains of magic traveling through him and into the gun. Finally after what seemed hours to him, he let his hand fall away, and he began to shudder in relief. His last few actions could prove disastrous for the future. He contemplates the consequences of completing the rest of the transformation. A few vampires glanced his way, probably wondering when Tyreal got the powers of sorcere. They shrugged it off, realizing no harm would come to any of them, if he decided to shoot his gun off at one of them. The undead cannot be changed. Tyreal, still shuddering and desperately trying to breathe normal again, thinks about what will happen. If he blew himself away, he might turn into a super human freak. He would have all the required knowledge from his past life, including his magical abilities and assassination skills. But he might become a freak. An uncontrollable monster, ready to destroy or devour anything that might come in his way. But immortality? The consequences were dire, and it required a lot of thought on the matter. Several of his so-called friends, had come to him, aski! ng of what he was doing. He shrugged them off deep in his own thoughts. They didn't really care about him. They just wanted to steal his weapons should he, die from the dangerous spell. So many weapons too. He suddenly thinks that if it doesn't work out, his last breathe of life would bring him to pull the pin off of one of the grenades strapped to his chest. Yes, that would teach those vultures. He picks up the gun, and brings it to his head. The last few moments of his life, he recalls how he came to be. Cheemo the Red, was leaving the asylum forever, and he needed someone to take his place, so that the turmoil of the bar, would remain forever constant. Tyreal Sombringer didn't do any such thing. He was an outcast. He would try and disturb the peace, b! ut the peace remained. Luckily for him, Cheemo the Red didn't keep his promise, and was back again creating troubles for all except for the lonely assassin. With that, he pulls the trigger. The enhanced bullet, goes straight into his brain, and stops at in the middle. Tyreal's body falls off the stool and hits the floor with a loud thud. His body began to twitch, as a pool of blood begins to form underneath his body. No one came to see what had happened to him. A few glanced in his direction when the loud gun was fired off. But the "vultures" didn't come. The magically enhanced bullet, the lodged into Tyreal's brain, begun to weld the torn pieces of tissue and skin, back together. His body twitched once more, ! as the massive pool of blood started to retreat its course, and returned from whence it came. The new Tyreal's first thought, of his new life was, "where the fuck am I?" Then, it all came back to him. The vampires staring in awe. The bullet, enhanced by his own hand. The shot, which would forever change him. He gets up as if nothing at all had happened, and walks out of the asylum, hoping that his choice was a good one.


Prenote- Tyreal Sombringer is a character all ready made. He is an assassin of renowned strengths. But he felt as if he could better himself by imbuing one of his guns, and shooting himself with it. He shoots the bullet into his head, but he rises again with no wounds at all. He left, and never came back…until now.

The tall fellow dressed in all black walks into the asylum, in ease. Through the glasses that fit his face in perfect precision, he notices no one he once knew. Knowing that turmoil frequented this place, he moves his left hand towards the holster on his waist, and removes the 7mm. pistol. Just for reassurance. He walks to the bar and sits down in his usual seat. Running a hand through his thick black hair, he recalls the last time he had been in the asylum. He was sad. He had done nothing in his time here, and thought about committing suicide. And why not? He didn’t have any reasons to live. But he was afraid to take his own life. So instead, he thought to change himself. He had imbued one of his guns, and planned on shooting himself with the enchanted bullet. Besides living from the shot, he had no idea what else it would do to him. He grins at that last thought. The newfound prowess impressed even the vampires that were always around. One vampire in particular, saw him shoot himself, and rise up almost immediately after doing it. This same vampire came up to Tyreal, just as he was thinking of himself. The vampire asked Tyreal what had happened to him. Tyreal, being a happy sort of person was more then happy to show the curious vampire just what he could do. Tyreal lifted his right hand, and pointed to a table where three of the vampire’s brethren sat enjoying a good night out. Suddenly the asylum began to shake. The table, in which Tyreal still pointed at, fell into the hole that had formed upon the quake. The vampires stood up in awe. But before they could move away and inquire about what had happened, a massive flame sprouted from its opening. The flames enveloped the vampires, and rose to the rafters on the ceiling above. Its red and orange flames went straight through the roof and extended to the clouds above. How far it actually went, no one knew, except for maybe the gods and Tyreal alone. Finally Tyreal brought his finger down, and rested his hand on the bar counter in front of him. The flames that had erupted had ceased to be, as well as the hole in the ground. But there was a gaping hole in the ceiling, and the three missing vampires. The vampire still staring at the place where the flame had just gone out stood in shock. He then turned from Tyreal and began to walk away. He stopped suddenly and turned around and spoke something of vampire killing, laws and revenge. Tyreal barely noticed his words. He laughed silently to himself, knowing that things were most defiantly better.