[Dunin Hemm]

In the darkness, Faruk has long been left to his own devices, trying to meditate the long hours away. Still, the mining gives him something to do, something to focus his being on and keep his body moving rather than withering away in the damp space of his cell. He's heard stories of men captured and locked away hundreds of feet beneath the surface in perpetual darkness and given naught but a few scraps to eat. He's heard how their bodies fail and deteriorate into something worse than an old crone's frame.
And he fears that fate, because what with the mining and the poor food he's given, his own body is loosing weight and every day feels harsher to his worn joints than the last.

But then, the darkness is lifted as the light of a torch nears. The guards speak into the inky blackness of the cell window and wait for a response. Silence. For a long while they can hear or see nothing and it soon strikes them that it wil lremain so. But then, two needle points of reflection appears in the black frame, closing in, and then the haggard face of a dark skinned man appears, squinting in the light. His hair is greasy and his beard filthy, but his expression is one of quiet determination. "Sure," he whispers.