Ettiquite-4
Street +2
-2
Edge-6
Roll:5,2,3,6,6,5,1,5,5,2=6 net success's
Sinn Repeats and holds out his hand
Soka?

Yeah null sheen chummer.

Just remember chummer, you only been here a week. It'll wear on ya'. That won't be your last whuppin' either, 'lest you take someone out yer self, or got someone to watch your back.

Dont worry bout me Skin, Ill be alright in here. Hell, 6 months ago, I was in worse shape.

Sure you will chummer. You just keep tellin' your self that if it helps ya' sleep.

Ain't no one makes it through here alone.

Again the ever present sense of depression and loss of Blackstone rolls over Sinn. As much as he may talk about having been through worst, it doens't feel like it. It's the kind of constant over whelming sense of loss of self that drives men to suicide.

Thoughts of dante swirl through Sinn's head. Thoughts of Gabriel and Serene join them. As always, he one that comes to the fore front are the parting words of Miriam... the Baron. Taking his son, doing horrible things to him. ... killing him.
The last of his line, at the mercy of a demon. His only protection, a woman that's sworn her loyalty to the same demon. Completely unaware. The only woman that Sinn's dared to trust for a long time, the one watching over his child. Would she really protect Dante? Even if it meant her own life? Just what would practical "Miss Lucky" do to survive?

The thoughts pounded their way in on Sinn, just as they had every single night. The drugs they pumped in to the inmates were a blessing in disguise. There was no doubt that without them, most of the men here would cry them selves to sleep in despair, or go mad.

God damn it....this place is startin to wear on me....

Sinn sits up in bed. He can hear the voices of the other inmates around the prison. Soon he heres some commotion coming from a cell across from him. After sitting up, he sees that theres just a fight between an orc and human inmate. Sinn quietly sits back down.
Whatever....
As he lays stairing at the ceiling, his mind wonders, Mostly of Dante and wondering if it came down to it, would she really protect Dante? Even from the Donna her self? He ponders for a moment on where Raist, and Bourban are, and how they feel about Sinns situation. In here for some of his crimes, and most of Bourbans. Though it was his showing off that got him caught on a dragons head.
I was just a kid... Sinn tells himself, atleast trying to be humourus about the sitiuation. He thinks of Gumbo, wondering how he made it out. If he did.
I never did get to pay him in full...Hope hes not mad...
Then thoughts of Sirene and Gaberielle enter his mind. These thoughts seemed more painful now. Now that he failed, failed them, Failed Dante as a father, failed himself and his teacher, The Ringmaster.
Nah....its just the manawarp..

The next day finds Sinn sitting at a lunch table, 'eating' anotehr tasteless pile of 'food'. All around inmates are sitting in their cliques, forming their own little "don't look at us or we'll kill you" groups.

As Sinn picks away at the brownish mound, an elf plops down next to him.
He's wirey and a bit jittery. Probably had a bad wires job at some point. His dirty blond hair is long and greasy. He looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in months. Proabably hans't >sinn can't help but wonder if he looks that bad.

Haye man, names Caden. Heard you were in here. Can't believe you of all people ended up in a cell with a tusker. Ain't right man. Here, ya' might need this.

Caden slides Sinn over a small blue toothbrsh with a rubber band around the end.

Cell with a tusker? Sinn then relizes the swirling rumor about his prejudice towards orcs.
Oh...right. I apreiciate your help. Sinn takes the toothbrush and rubberband.
But just for the record, I aint as hateful towards em, as you might of heard. Shouldnt beleive gossip, it'll get you hurt. Sinn glances around for a moment.
So what you get caught doin?

As Sinn runs a finger over the rubber band, he feels a different shape underneath it. Rolling it back some, he sees a razorblade set in to the toothbrush. It's a shiv.

Got caught using a few spells to convince a few lady types that maybe I wasn't so bad ta' be with after all. Fraggers called it rape. Whatever. So who you wit' in here?

No one. I got Skin watchin my back. But other than that, I prefer not to join some click. I havent been to high school in a long time, Dont plan to go back.
Pocket the toothbrush. Then stand up.
Oh and by the way, the whole "spell on women thing?" Dont think of it as rape, just think about it as a peaceful presuaision. Sinn smiles as he pats him on the back. Thanks for the toothbrush. Catch me later. Ill be the one brushin my teeth. Ya dig.

Caden waives, looking a bit dissapointed, but doesn't follow. The next few days are more of the same painful monotony. He wakes up, feels horrible. Gets some food, sits in his cell for a while, feels horrible some more. Goes to the shower room, being eyed by a few types that it would be better not to be eyed by.

Over the next few days, Skin also starts spending less and less time around Sinn, and a bit more being noisy by him self on the bottom bunk before 'lights out' time, when everyone is put in to a drug induced sleep.

By now Sinn has realized that they must refill the drugs while everyone is asleep. There haven't been any other times when he's seen anyone "refilled".

Four days later, as Sinn is showering, he hears the very distinct sound of heavy foot steps splashing up slowly behind him. There is a pair of large orks, naked of course, and looking like they mean an unpleasant sort of business.

You mest be that daisy eater I been hearin' so much about. They say you messed up a bunch a' orks back where you come from.. The speaker is a smaller ork with jet black hair worn buzzed very short. The one with him is much larger, black, completely shaved, and with a very nasty grin on his face.

The bald one looks at his 'partner', then Sinn. Dat true buttercup? You like beating on orks, when you was a big bad mojo man?

Without waiting for a response, the other speaks again in his deeper voice. Yeah, Buttercup here, he don't like taking sass from no tuskers from what I hear. Not even his cell mate.

The other one responds. Well I got some 'sass' for ya' sweet cheeks. Somethin' for ya' ta' eat to. And it ain't no daisy!

They both grin and laugh.

Sinn stares at the wall, then closes his eyes. An image of Dante and Lucky appear
No fuckin way....

Well boys, it apears you've staken your claim....now lets see you take it!

Cast a force 5 manaball
10 -8 = 2 + 5 (edge) = 7
Roll:
4,5,5,2,1,6,6,6- 5 net sucess's

Will-7
Spell resistance-5
Edge-5
Roll
3,3,1,2,5,2,6,6,5,6,3,2,5,5,6,6,1= 9 net success's

Sinn quickly gathers the tainted energy for his spell. The ork's eyes go wide as they see the visible strain of spellcasting. Sinn feels the tainted energy wash over him as he gathers the energy for his manaball. He feels the emotional agony and pain of the horrors that have occured in this room as he casts, throwing his concentration, and sapping at his will. He wants to cry, and turns it to rage as he trows out the spell. It feels like the metaphysical equivelant of trying to throw a giant rock when your strength has already been sapped.

The manaball slams into meta-existance, tearing through the auras of the people throught the shower room, in a 7 meter radius around Sinn. Those that had gathered to watch the show take the blast and are flung back. The two orks , having had time to brace them selves, take it as the equivelant of a aluminum bat across the robs, swung by a troll.

The first slumps to the ground, while the second, baldy, screams in rage and flings him self at Sinn.

Sinn fights the urge to break into tears. And once again turns it into rage. With that rage filling him. He sees Miriams face on the orc....No, not Miriam, He sees the Baron. This alone is enough for him to scream loudly at the orc man running toward him, he stands ready.
Unarmed combat-4
Agility-4
Edge-5
total:13
roll
4,2,2,1,5,5,6,6,3,2,5,5,6= 7 net success's

Sinn moves in for the counter, and almost lands it, before the shock hits him.

The shower room is one of the most monitored areas in the prison. A dozen in mates just died. The rest that are still standing collapse as the Shock System tazes them, standing in water, dropping everyone still standing, convusling to the ground.

Sinn shouts in pain and falls to the ground.
While laying there, he glances up at the orc that had attacked him, also laying near Sinn.
There's you're daisy you fuckin tusker....
Sinn barely manages to get the words out before the shock forces him to pass out.

Sinn blacks out. There's no wa of knowing for how long. When he comes to, he's in what at first seems to be a coffin. There's no light. It's completely black. No sound either. He feels moist, apparently floating in somekind of goo. It's one of the sensory deprivation tanks. He feels weightless thanks to the boyant goo. His surroundings are comepltely devoid of sound light, and sensation. Moving his hands, he does not feel a top, or sides. They simply don't seem to be there.

Hmm...Interesting.
Sinn stays put for what seems like forever, then finnally tries to move around. Simply out of curiosity.

Sinn moves, but finds nothing. Anywhere. There doesn't seem to be any sensation of movement. He doesn't seem to roll over even though he should. He simply lies there on his back, floating in the goo. Reaching up, there seems to be nothing above him. Nothing below for his fingers to come in to contact with. He's simply floating there.

Well would you look at tha-....
Sinn sits and waits for something to happen. SOmething to jump out at him. But after a few hours gets bored of waiting. So he waits some more.

Nothing seems to happen for a very long time. Sinn just sits there, wondering when he will go mad. At least it would be a break from the monotony. The blackness never changes. Trying to sit up to change positions only results in him waving his arms a bit and not changing position. Even rolling over to see if he could possbily smother him self to end the boredom does nothing. He only flails for a bit before deciding the whole thing is idiotic.

Hours and hours pass. At least, he hopes they do. It's difficult to tell time without any sort of sensory input. Sinn finds him self counting at one point, trying to count the seconds, then the minutes. Anything to occupy his mind with something.
Using his will to keep him self at it, he manges to count up to five full hours before deciding that he would indeed go insane if he continues, and swears off the idea of counting sheep completely, for life.

Colors and short images have swirled across his 'vision' for some time now. Usually not wuite formed faces of perhaps people he knew, occassionally somoe sort of ethereal animal. For the most part, they're ignored. The small white dog running away from him is as pointless to pay any attention to as the chubby pseudo-Gumbo he sees.

Sinn sits bolt upright, realizing that he probably fell asleep. The goo is extremely boyoant, so there doesn't seem to be any chance of drowning in it. Having no idea of whether he simply nodded off or slept in for 10 hours begins to play a bit of havoc on his mind. The sense of being completely lost is almost overwhelming. A sense of claustrophobia, being trapped and suffocated begins to assail him. He feels himself smothered by the cloying, moist graveyard dirt, as it pushes down on his chest. He can feel the grimey swamp water, taste the dirt, as it piles on to his face, thrown by ghouls. He can feel the dirt enter his nostrils, cutting off his already short air supply. Trying to lift his arms and grasp something, anything, all he feels is moist, glining eearth. It smothers him, it's weight forcing the air from his lungs. He screams, or tries to, as suffocating grave earth fills his mouth, flooding his throat.

He thrashes and chokes on the earth, feeling the life forced from him. He can't move, can't even scream, his mind reels and cres out for anything, any hope of survival!

He sits up right, coming awake again. Or returning to conciousness. There's no way for him to know. Did he dream it? Did it happen, and he lived again? Did it hapen and he passed out? He can feel something on his face, but it could be dirt, the goo, or his own excrement for all he knew. How long had it been now?

Make a will roll along with posting. Edge has not refreshed yet.

Will-5
Roll:
3,5,5,4,6= 3 net success's

Sinn panics for a moment. Remembering two seperate occasions when he had been buried alive. Both of which he did willingly. Relizing this, he thinks:
What kind of twisted person am I to allow myself this sort of torment? Twice!
He struggles to regain his composure.

Nothing seems to happen for a very loooong time. Sinn tries counting again for a while. He loses count of the minutes when he realizes he's counted 37 three times, and was counting seconds over 60. It's suprisingly hard to concentrate in the middle of nothingness.

There's a drip that lands on his nose. The water is cold. At least it isn't goo. The water drips again after a few seconds. Then again. Then again. And again. And again. It keeps dripping. trying to move his head doesn't seem to make anydifference . Sinn's unsure if his head even really moves. The water drips on his nose again. Again again.Again.


*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......

God damn it....where the hell is that coming from?

*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*....... *Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......
*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......

Sinn tries to focus his eyes on where the source of the driping is coming from.

There doesn't seem to be anything above him. There isn't even a dripping noise, just the water 'impact' on his nose.

*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......*Drip*.......

Sinn lets out a long sigh.

Im pretty sure I deserve this....

The dripping continues for a long , long time . Sinn's pretty sure he starts getting tired, but the incessant dripping continues keeping him wide awake and very annoyed. The drips comes every five second, liek clock work. After a while, he learns the pattern, and learns to dread it. Knowing exactly when the next drip is goign to come is like knowing exactly when he's about ready to scream his head off ..... again .... and again.... and again.

Hours on end it goes on, just dripping , dripping, dripping. He begins thrashing to at least get the water to and somewheere else. Again it seems as if he can't even tell if he's moving, except that the water still hits his nose in the same. exact. spot.

It goes on and on. He feels tired, sure that he should be sleeping, but unable to. The constant little annoyance just wears and wears at him. He yells at the drip, thrashes, even tries catching it in his mouth, to no avail. It never ceases, never falters. It jsut keeps picking, and picking, and picking at him.

Finally he screams at it! After God alone knows how many hours, maybe days, it's still going, still dripping. He screams and rants ,as the water drips on to his nose. He screams about killing it and whatever water making god he can find, about throwing whatever the hell is dripping in to the desrt and peeing on it, about anything. He screams , then almost starts begging for it to stop. It's just quite simply maddening. The constabt.continuous. melodic. horrible. cold *drip* *drip* *drip*.

Roll Willpower -2

Sinn sits becuase its all he can do. He talks to himself in oreder for some attempt to stat sane at this time. Nothing has ever compared to this. Not even being married with two twin boys.
So there I was, tied to the bed, with motor oil smeared all over my body. Then she kicked in the door, holding a saddle and jumper cabels.....
One hour later...
....Thats when I relised that perhaps mustard wasnt the best choice for pancakes...Several hours later...
So in the third grade I had this crush on a girl named Suzy Turner. I told her that I loved her and she pushed me in the mud! Can you beleive it? A genuine guy like myself, denied of his love...
The next day...
Ive got a lovely bunch of coconuts! La de da dee!

Will:5
Edge:5 (last one)
-2
roll:5,3,4,6,6,6,6,5,3,3=5 net success's

He's not sure when it happens, but at some point, Sinn realizes that water is no longer dripping on his face. His surroundings feel a bit diffeerent. he feels hardwood beneath him. He sees people walking around, although they seem surreal. He can hear voices, but not connect any faces to them. They seem to be floating around him. The voices are talking, but the sentences are disconnected.

Don't know what you;re taling about....

Of course I will....

Never really loved him....

All I could do...

was why it had...

See how things play out on their own....

will take care....

They seem to float in the endless void. His body feels light, but more in the way of drugged than astrally projecting. He feels disconnected, as if nothign is particualirly important. It could all just be hallucinations anyway. The disconcerting part is the blood everywhere. He almost feeels hungry for it. It doesn't feel like it's happening now however. It feels like it might happen. Like it will happen.

This thirst...? Im confused. Why would I hunger for this? Im a maniac, not a monster!
Sinn concentrates as hard as he can to try to put faces to the voices. He tries to understand where they are coming from. If all else fails, they could just be halucinations.

Is this a premanition of whats to come? Sinn goes silent as if waiting for someone to awnser him.
Someone tell me something!

"Someone tell me something!..."

Whiner..


stupid voices....

angry ....


gave up alre....


sac....

The voices seem to drift in and out constantly. Sinn's barely able to hear them the voices trimming the edge of his conciousness, making it impossible to single in on any one of them. As a whole, it's like being surrounded by a constant murmer, like a party, or an ant hill. The ants are everywhere swarming on him, tickling and crawling, and the occassional little bite. They don't hurt, but they're everywhere, getting everywhere, even in to his nose and his ears. Everywhere!

Willpower test.

Will-6
Roll
3,6,6,5,1,2=3 net success

God damn-! What the fu-!
The bugs crawling on him remind him a bit of the insects he dealt with before. How he felt when he was aproached and attacked in the French district of New Orleans by an Insect Shaman. A damn good one too.
Then another memory came to mind. One of the times Sinn willing allowed himself to be buried alive for an inition ritual into the Voodoo posse.
I never even got to join....

Sinn's mind creates more and more miages that swirl through his mind, playing on all sorts of phobias he never developed, but may be beginning to. Images of faces from his past are seen, including the all but forgotten Ring Master. Sinn can't help but wonder if there ever really was anything to the mysterious man, or if he was just another person trying to make him self seem more than he was. The faces of his sins fill his mind for some time, as he goes through his daily life with them. Changing the boy's diapers is just as horrible in delusions as in real life, if not worst.

Sinn loses all track of what he's seeing, even of reality as the endless hours of darkness wear on and on, pressing in against his mind and very soul. Aything could be everything or nothing could be somewhere or some mindless babble. Sinn starts yelling at himself when he realizes he's been repeating the same meaningles sentence in his mind over and over agin for maybe the last hour, and has completely forgotten what he was talking about in the first place.

Will power -2

Will-6
-2
roll
5,4,4,2= 1 net success

God damn it I need to get out of here!
Sinn continues to think on things of his past. Mostly with the ringmaster.
Where is he...? Why did he take me in? And why didnt I let him help me....

Sinn rises from the cold stone ground. The concrete has pressed his pressed his right cheek flat. He's sore, mostly along the right side of his body, where he was lying on the floor.

His surroundings are unfamiliar, but he knows where he is. Solitare.

The cell is simple. Three meters by three meters by three meters, flat gray concrete. There's a small waste recepticale for his bodily functions in the floor. No actual toilet, just a small indentation with a drain. There's a large iron door, with a small slit presumably for food, and antoher to look in through at approxiametly a human's eye level. He's in the black jump suit again. The room is slightly cold, perhaps 60 degrees farenheit. Just enough to give you a chill and make it hard to sleep on the heat sapping floor.

There is no bed, or even a cot. Just the stone. More than anything though, he feels the oppression of the mana warp. Here it's even deeper, a twisted, self loathingdepression that covers him like a death shroud. Despair is the only emotion he seems to have time for. It's no wonder there's not even a sharp corner in this place. After the month in the tank, it would take most men a great effort of will not to slam their held to a pulp against the stone walls simply to end it all.

Even his years of struggling with the forces of mana, spirits, and the darker powers of voodoo are hardly preperation for the batle of control it takes to not simply end it all as quickly and painfully as possible. For a long long time, he simply sits there on the cold stone floor, back against the wall, thinking of minor pains he can inflict upon himself, just to make sure that he is infact still alive.

Smash my head, slit my wrists, hang myself, starve myself, blow myself away with a spell, force a guard to kill me......
Sinn barely able to resist the dismal energies of the room, decides if he begins to thinks of all the ways he can die, everything else will stop bothering him so much.
He stares at the wall counting the spots, not that he can see them.
After several hours of thinking, and counting, he decides to cut his arms on anything he can find.
Focus on this pain Jakob...! He tells himself. This is the only pain you feel....nothing else....just the mild pain in your arm...now focus!

Speding a good half an hour, Sinn gets incredibly frustrated when he finds that there are no sharp edges or pionts anywhere in the room.Even the door frame is rounded off. Apparently this has been an issue in the past. After the frustration builds Sinn finally settles for slamming his head into the wall.

He wakes some time later with a splitting headache.

Wiping the now dried blood from his head, he decides that maybe the best choice of options is to sit against the wall, and talk.

Sirene? He pauses for a long while. Sirene are you listening? Well Im just gonna talk, so you're goin to have to listen. Look at me Sirene. Im stuck helpless in this room, this prison, while are son is in the grasp of a demon, and the only one who can protect him doesnt have a clue. Ive finnally done it Sirene. Ive hit rock bottum. You always told me I would if I didnt change... I should have listened....

His voice faintly echoes off the wall. It has the feeling of sitting at the bottom of a well. The feelings of despair are stronger here thany anywhere in the prison, but today, and for the next week, Sinn has no need of it's aid, feeling lost , trapped, and forgotten by a world that has decided to hate him. The feeling even drives him to take another run at the wall, this time hoping that he won't wake back up.

Unfortunately all he gets for his efforts is another splitting headache that lasts for nearly five days.

The lights never turn off here. It's a horrible change from the eternal darkenss of the sensory deprivation chamber. For the first day or so, he spends msot of his time shielding his sensitive eyes from the burning bright bulb. The thing has to be 600 watts. His mind tells him that's very unlikely, that it's only because he hasn't seen the light in so long. After a few days however, he dcides he's right. The light is so bright that it can even be seen through his eyelids. It forces him to face the wall when he tries to sleep, and makes it much more difficult to find rest even then.

He remembers a saying once he heard somewhere. Madness comes slower in the light. It takes sometime for the hallucinations to stop. He's neer really sure if they do or not. The cell makes him feel claustrophobic and trapped. The feeling of total defeat is with him always. The worst part is, Sinn considers trying to destroy the door of the cell with a spell and stops, fearing the consequences for perha[s the first time in his life. Could he really endure that again?

Sinn simply sits. Contimplating many things. But the thought of going back to solitary shook him a bit. His cell is a god send compared to. Hey simply sits and waits. It really all he can do.
After a day, he grows bored of waiting around and begins to run around the room, singing an old Tir battle song. Something catchy and upbeat. The upbeat part is hard to swing. But whos he tryin to impress?

Jogging around a 10'x10' room is harder than it seems. Sinn mostly finds him self running in a circle, leaning inward. The drain of the place seems to sao his strength, tiring him quickly, more quicky than it should. He simply doesn't have the energy. Soon enough he lays down. Constant sleep they say, is a sure sign of depression. no fragging kidding.

Sinn drifts to sleep yet again,all sense of time completely lost. For all he knows he could still be just a few days in, or maybe a month. Everything seems to blur.

Doesn't seem like your fortunes have improved much.

Sinn opens his eyes as quick as the voice came. He sits up and looks around the room.
Hello? He calls out. He relizes that just after saying it, he didnt really say it at all. He thought it. The last time he did that, he had been waking up after recovering from 13 rounds to his stomach and a shotgun blast to his chest at point blank.

Sweetie, you just got your ass handed to you on an asphalt platter with a peppering of lead....
Sinn smiles for the first time at the thought of Lucky.
He quickly comes back to reality
Whos there?

Does it really matter? if I were you , I'd jsut be gald that someone is there, and it isn't just your fractured mind talking to you.

Sinn relizes that the voice in his head is right. He is pretty excited that theres someone speaking to him.
Your right...I apologise. So just who are you then? May I know your name?

I suppose for now, just call me Mentor. Because I have some things to teach you. Yuo may be in a difficualt situation, but it provides you with a unique oppurtunity. You are in the one place within these walls that you can study and train without interruption or danger of discovery.

Mentor? Does he mean The advessary?
Alright, what is it you wish to teach me then?

I'm a believer in the old adage that the powers help those who help them selves. You need a way to be able to cast effectively , even with your reduced ability in this pit. I can teach you that. Remember though that there is a price. In this case, the price is pain. Your own. Nothing new to you I think.

What do you mean price? What sort of pain do you wish from me, mentor?