Roth sulked in the corner of his cell, the long claws at the end of his fingers scratching deep grooves in the wall. He worked his claws along the hard stone continually, creating a dark image of a suffering soul, the reflection of what he felt in his heart. The creature carved into the wall looked much like Roth, with long silver hair running from the mane around his neck down his back to the tail at the base of his spine. With long limbs and taunt muscle running through his tortured body, the image was a sight of horror. Roth had drawn it as an incarnation of the pity, and sorrow that he felt within him. Trained in a highly respected martial arts school, Roth knew well how to focus on what he had left and see the good in things. But after years of suffering there was little resistance left in him.
His scratching strokes slowed as he focused on the sound of approaching footsteps, stopping completely at the grating of the cell door. A jailer stepped into the cell, his face a picture of