Sygrin woke up stiff and drowsy, his head hurting. He tried to stretch but barely moved an inch, there were metal bars all around him. He opened his eyes with a start, tried hard to push against the cage. But his heart sank as he saw what the bars were made out of, Silverion. It was a metal made by the gods during wartime that at a certain thickness Wolvians, and other monsters, couldn’t break. It also made good weapons against them. He then began to remember how he came to be in this cage. That was the problem of fighting slavers, they usually tried to take prisoners. Some of his friends were killed though, one might consider them the lucky ones.<br/><br/><br/>Sygrin was stuck in that cage for what felt like eternity, but then the torture started. A fat man with a nasty scar on his left eye and black markings on his bare chest came holding all sorts of torture instruments, also made out of Silverion. Sygrin could handle the pain, it didn’t matter, if there was nothing he could do about it, then he just had to suffer. Sygrin spoke to his captor, his voice was deep and solemn. “Hurt me as much as you like, I do not care.” But the man didn’t want to just hurt him, he wanted to break him. When he talked  Sygrin recognized his accent as Lubinian. “No, you do not understand. You are but an animal. I will make you be as the beast you are. All creatures of your type have limit, I will make you reach place that is nothing but savagery. Only then shall things be right.” Then he picked up an instrument and put a black glow on it with his magic. The pain was intense and he couldn't help but cry out in pain.<br/><br/><br/>Sygrin was strong willed, even with many  days of torture, he didn't break. But he did reach a point where he would do anything to make it stop. So he began to act savagely, growling and snapping at his tormentor. Once the man was satisfied, he brought two Mindless Wolvians, creatures born of Succubi, to cover his cage with a cloth and put carrying poles in his cage. They lifted it up and he knew he was being moved, but not to where.<br/><br/><br/>Sygrin felt disheartened, he was probably being moved to a place for gladiator matches, if not other things as well. How many of his own kind would he have to fight and kill? He tried to remain strong, in the solitude of his own mind he thought of lyrics to old war songs. ‘I am, I am a warrior. Marching in the army, fighting for my people. My allies sing my praises and I am feared by my enemies. Strong as a dragon and twice as fierce. I make Kor’bin proud, fighting for our races.You can't defeat me for I am a hero. Yes for we are warriors. Marching in the army, fighting for our people. We’ll never bow, not for nothing, not for kings nor gods. We won't give up and we can’t back down. We are as one and I never fight alone. For I am, i am a warrior. Marching in the army, fighting for my people.’ It was foolish but it was the only comfort he had. He was in a weakened state and he did whatever he could to stay sane.<br/><br/>Sygrin then felt the cage get placed on a stone floor. The cloth came off and he saw that he was in a cell, still caged in his tiny box. He sniffed the air just to see what was around. He could tell the closest guard was a ways down the hall. But he was mostly shocked to smell the scent of a succubus. One with a strong bloodline at that. Was that the point of this, to make more mindless like those wolvians, if not to have him be a slave as well. His heart sunk, this was not a life for a warrior. Making children to grow up to serve his captors while having to do the same. It hurt him and he couldn't allow it. But there was only one way to stop it.<br/><br/>Sygrin brought up his long razor sharp claws to his throat then spoke aloud to the succubus. “I wish I could save you, I wish I could save everyone here, but i can’t. I've let everyone down, and I am now pathetic. Death would be better, no more pain of failing those I care about. I will not allow myself to make anything else worse. Things will be better this way, I've failed my father and this is what he would expect of me.” He then began to press his claws into his neck and blood began to drip down them.