"They said I wouldn't make it"
They could hear the beats footsteps pounding across the floor above them. The avatar stood seemingly calm. The pair of dark glasses resting perfectly on his nose showed only the reflected fear of the survivors surrounding. "It seems he survived. No wonder Tyr is interested." The avatar said deliberately being overheard by the soldiers around him. "Who do you serve, men?"
"Tyr, our holy god who guides our hands." The reply echoed with a renewed hope. The avatar were not ordinary men. They were the direct disciples of the Gods themselves. This avatar was the left hand of Tyr, the god of war. It became clear to the men why they were here.
"Alright men, Lord Tyr sent us here to give us a taste of battle, the likes of which I have not had in a long time. In his generosity he gave you a free ticket to Valhalla, and the one who kills the beast, may even get to dine with gods before Ragnarok." The silence at the avatar's gift of hope was broken b