The Wolf

Relatively speaking, he was well treated for a prisoner of war. The Sith weren't monsters in that sense, they were evil in others ways. Small tortures. Foods being replaced that ones that made his stomach upset. Some days with showers, a week or two without one. It was minimal torture, but it was starting to get to him. They'd wake him up, and force him to stay awake for either a long time, or induce him to sleep for a long period and make him unable to sleep for a while. Sometimes they'd speak in languages he didn't understand, and then sometimes they wouldn't speak to him at all, operating in silence. He often wondered when the real torture would start, when the pliers and the kneecap breaking.
His leg was gone. A crude amputation took it's place.
It hurt to move.
Sometimes he still felt it. A stinge of pain. Phantom limb pain.
He'd hear music sometimes, music he liked, some he didn't. It was always there. He heard hymns and songs of Empires past, and in general. Sometimes they'd play awful music, screeches. Sometimes, they'd play static for hours upon hours. Hours and hours of static. He screamed once, an angry cry of anguish over the situation at hand. It wasn't exactly unwarranted, he'd been subjected to a small amount of torture and practically needed a form of release.
He knew they'd eventually come and question him, try to persuade him to join their side. They all knew he had no secrets or information to share. If he did have any secrets, he wouldn't be a good Mandalorian. They were far too open and honest about what they did and how they did it. But they probably wanted more. They wanted to break him. To destroy his psyche.
His anger and his rage kept him going. Thoughts of home kept him going. Thoughts of seeing [member="Aditya Amadis"] and [member="Azrael"] again kept him going. He needed those. Without it, he'd probably end up going mad.
Or, if they kept playing the music, he'd go mad.
[member="Darth Carach"]