Lockup doesn’t always mean the end of a promising mystic career path. Sometimes, it’s where it starts.

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Amoromancy: this is best left unspoken. Unless it involves a conjugal visit or three, you may have some tough choices to make. Choose wisely.

Annihilomancy: what few possessions owned by a convict are probably worth a few charges, if carefully planned destruction is accomplished. If it’s done poorly, you may have yourself one interesting lifestyle coming.

Bibliomancy: you’re going to need help from the outside, or use mail-order to accomplish most of your collection, unless you’re able to get on at the prison library.

Cryptomancy (Eastern): this may be possible. Everyone who arrives is considered just about as trustworthy as a kleptomaniac in a shopping mall. Keep a good track record of your lies. May save you a beating or three.

Cryptomancy (Western): keeping an ear to the ground, wall, or rumor mill can lead to a few good secrets, if you’re smart. But, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong may lead to a good thrashing, or stabbing.

Cliomancy: a couple of questions about famous previous incarcerations may lead to a few minor charges. If you’re in for a little while, it’s not an easy path, but it’ll keep you in the pink for the duration. Ryker’s Island, San Quentin, and Fulsom are good locations, if such exist.

Dipsomancy: there’s a lesser known aspect of prison lore; Pruno. Lockdown Gin. Potato Vodka. All are heavily intoxicating, easily created, and high-grade commodities. Made from orange peels, yeast, and similar ingredients, it’s not scotch, but it’ll pass.

Entropomancy: if you can’t find something risky to do, I’d recommend visualizing trips to the showers and playing ‘drop the soap’. After all, a risk of some degree of damage could get you a minor charge. Feel lucky, punk?

Epideromancy: prison tattoos. Nuff said. Painful to inscribe, but worth their weight in charges.

Iconomancy: I’d recommend reading up on famous prisoners, and seeing what that’ll bring about. A copy of Soledad Brother, Weeds (also, the movie with Nick Nolte), and Animal Factory would do you well to make the transition easier.

Infomancy: you’re going to look nutty doing your minor charge-acquisition, but you’ll at least be tapping the media stream by tuning into your radio in your cell, reading a crossword puzzle upside down, and wearing 3D glasses. On the plus side, crazy often means ‘do not approach’ to felons. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

Irascimancy: good luck. Truly. The other felons will certainly appreciate your intrusions into yard brawls, shower scenes, and cellblock beatdown parties with true enthusiasm. Your mileage, of course, will suck.
Mechanomancy: some facilities have machine shops, plate prints, blue jeans factories, and the like. Your mileage may vary.

Kleptomancy: enjoy your stay. Stealing probably got you locked up, and if you keep it up, you’re going to stay, for good. I’d recommend stealing from the unimportant, the new, and the Bibliomancers, if any.

Oneiromancy: staying awake at night may be a survival trait, if you have a truly hopeless romantic for a cellmate. Actually, it’s a good idea, in general.

Personamancy: uhm. Can’t really help you, unless you’ve got a large-size prison to work with. Being Bob Foster in D Block, Wendell J. Holmes on C Block, and Rodney Clark on A Block may or may not work out well. On the plus side, those facilities with actor’s/actress’ studios could do you well. Watch the movie ‘Weeds’ for details.

Plutomancy: this requires liberal applications of the concepts of ‘money’. Some facilities pay their workers (see Mechanomancy, above), allowing for limited currency. Others are still on ‘cigarettes, Pruno, and your sweet, sweet ass’ as financial standpoints.

Pornomancy: need I say more.

Thanatomancy: hopefully your style of murder didn’t involve a firearm. If so, you’re out of luck, unless you can arrange a guard to shoot your chosen victim for you. Plan ahead; if you’re inside, it’s probably not your strong suit, but do it anyways.

Urbanomancy: with luck, you’re in the city of choice. If not, welcome to Life Sucks 101, and class begins today.

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Archetypes. Some would work, others would not.

Demagogue: lifers have achieved a status unparalelled in the mundane world, being the literal speakers of law, truth, and policy. An easy transition is possible.

Executioner: oh, sweet Jesus. This can not be good.

Flying Woman: you are officially now out of luck, unless you *really* enjoy solitary confinement.

Fool: enjoy your stay. If any Adept asks who you channel, simply say ‘The Punk’. Advice: ‘shower often’.

Masterless Man: see Flying Woman.

Merchant: watch Shawshank Redemption for ideas on how to merchant the necessities of lockup life. Or, better, read the original story, ‘Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption’.

Pilgrim: with enough transfers between facilities, you may be able to survive. Unless going to prison was your goal. Which would make no sense, but then again, why should it?

Savage: there’s a notable exception for the *truly* ‘insane’ (someone who fashions clubs from chair legs and beats someone to death for turning on a television set could be construed fairly safely as ‘truly insane’) in lockup. Some call it ‘Cat-J’, others ‘loony-tunes-crazy-bugfu*k-whackjob-crazy’. These are atypically heavily overmedicated with low-end psychoactive substances, left in solitary, and washed via pressure hoses without the cell doors being opened. Your mileage may be interesting.

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Unique schools: Uhm. Yeah.
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Do your own time.
Drink plenty of water and walk slow.
Its mind over matter. They don’t mind, you don’t matter.
There are no secrets in the penitentiary.