---

WETCRAFT ISSUE 06
PANEL ONE: SYNCHALLA sleeping in between his two poles, lying down on his back. His chains have been loosened enough to allow him to sleep. His pants are a wreck, stained and torn from many abusings. He should have a puddle creeping across his belly where he’s wet himself in his sleep. On the pole should be hash marks like someone’s been counting the days he’s been imprisoned.
NARR: The training went on for weeks. The whole time, Lydon kept me in a shed out back, like an animal.
PANEL TWO: Lydon tilts Synchalla’s head back, pouring more potion down it. Synchalla is no longer resisting, his mouth is open while Lydon pours it in. In the background should be several empty bottles labeled 1, 2, 3, 4 etc.
NARR: Every so often he would complete more work on his potion, fine-tuning it... ... and test it on me.
PANEL THREE: Synchalla is drooling on himself. It’s a lot of drool, running down his chin, down his shirt, and onto the crotch bulge of his pants. His clothes should look stained in several places as if they have never been changed the whole time he’s been here. He should look filthy.
NARR: He broke my will, reduced me to nothing. I was his slave, nothing more.
PANEL FOUR: Synchalla is carrying wood or something through the village. A small wooden “DOG” sign is on a collar around his neck. His pants are soaked, and full in the back. He has fat tears running down his face and looks like a boy about to cry. In the background are other undead snickering and laughing. It’s like Village of the Damned full of dead people and one live guy with wet pants.
NARR: He finally allowed me to perform tasks for him around the village. They all laughed at me, knowing me for what I was: Shamed, pathetic and humiliated.