Have you seen a massive serpent fighting dragons? wyverns? soldiers? No. No you haven't. Have you BEEN a massive serpent fighting dragons, wyverns, soldiers, and more? No. But the very beast in this story certainly is. All they've known is the stone cold colosseum walls, the sand digging into the grooves between their scales, the bars of the massive cage they reside within, the moist darkness of their living quarters, the spectators screeching cheers when they won, the boos when they lost, the few bits of leftovers thrown into the colosseum and scrambling to get that tiny bit of food that could last them a minute longer, and the laughing of the very queen overseeing the entire thing. The one who caused them to be here- To forget what nature was and only know violence. The one who silenced them and stole what could've- And, in their opinion, SHOULD'VE been- their life. This wyrm is a silent, misunderstood, and only trained in the ways of fighting for their miserable life. And they may never leave this damned place till their inevitable death, and another oh-so-great champion takes their place. But maybe, even if they cant taste whatever "freedom" is, They can have a chance to tell their story. A story of pained isolation smothered by silent violence.