He looked around the room, but everyone in it shared no concern that he was about to die. Looking back at the man in front of him he tried to speak.
“Oh shut up,” the man named Tyre (sounds like Tear) said with a strong Scottish accent. Tyre lifted his hand holding a heart that was still pumping. He did not look like a man who would proclaim himself a God. He was short and almost chubby. His bald head looked like it was a choice, but even if it wasn't you could tell it would be thin. His long red goatee had specks of silver streaking through it and the scar on his left cheek had almost faded. But the large scar sticking out of his shirt on the top of his chest looked like it was long and recent.
The German fell to his knees reaching out and lightly grabbing at his pant leg. Tyre kicked him and he fell backwards onto his back. The German who was almost gone looked up at the man holding his heart still in shock. “Tyre, please,” he said expelling a long and labored breath that hissed its way out of his throat.
“Say your own fucking prayers,” Tyre said walking away. He produced a top and bottom row of long sharp teeth and sunk them forcefully into the heart. The organ made a wet popping sound as blood burst from it in every direction. He took another bite and struggled, forcing him to pull his hand away from his mouth until it snapped. He looked at a large man standing by the door. “Clean that stain from my floor,” he instructed not even looking back. Throwing the heart behind him Tyre spit the remaining peace on the floor.
He was named by his father, Odin. After the Old Norse word for law, later it would literally mean ... God. Like a lot Chakan he was a bastard child born from one of his father's many conquests during a raid of Northern Scotland. He was never welcome in his father's kingdom by his step mother, the Queen, who would help create the myth of him having only one hand. One of her favorite tortures or pranks, as she would usually defend, to pull on Tyre was to chop off his right hand and hide it from him. Tyre would scour the Kingdom looking for it, sometimes for days. Once found he would reattach it, but the pain and humility helped sculpt the Monster he would become. It was believed that Tyre was quite weak for a Chakan. His almost sickly manner made him seem more like a blemish on his father's stellar reputation, some even despised him for it. The only ones who really took any interest in him at all was his teacher, a general in his father's army (teaching was the General's punishment for failure on the battlefield) and his cousin Loki, whose constant lies and trickery made him almost as unpopular.
Unfortunately for the rest of them, it came to pass that Tyre was not weak at all, it was soon revealed that the boy possessed all Five Rings and grew stronger as the years went on. His body was only adapting to all the power that was growing inside. Year after year he became more and more powerful rivaling even the mighty Elementals of...