[center][h1][color=Aquamarine]Amon Relmeral[/color][/h1]
 [sub]Arc 2: Day 2 
 One Night in Hell
 [@The 42nd Gecko]
[/sub]

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Amon had been having a fairly good night. The bar was rather pleasant, the atmosphere was nice, he'd gotten the number of a cute girl, and he was trying some drink he'd never had before, at half the price too! All in all it was shaping up to be a good night. It was at least, before some yelling occurred, Amon ignored it, but it turned out to be the calm before the storm. Amon wasn't exactly sure what the source of the storm was, but a storm it most certainly was. Before Amon could put his drink down a deafening blare of sound and force rippled across the building, knocking Amon off his seat, and his head promptly into the floor.

After some period of time, Amon was unsure exactly how long, he found himself lying on the floor. Upon attempting to move he was subsequently informed by his body there was a rather sizable piece of rubble on his chest, there was a very sensitive bump on his head, and his right hand was in incredible pain. From what he could see, at least one of his fingers was pointing the wrong way, the sight of it giving Amon a most uneasy and nauseous feeling.

Taking this information into account Amon let out a whimper of pain and freed his chest from the confining material with his left hand, in a very slow and careful fashion, as to not cause more undue pain. Wounds in the form of minor pain like small burns, stubbed fingers, and kicks to the shin he was familiar with, this not so much.

Amon found to his relief that breathing was now much easier, with a literal weight off his chest, but still difficult due to the dust in the air. It seemed his spot at the bar had been as good one as any, as the counter had crudely sheltered him when he had fallen off his seat. After laying there for a few moments, considering just how and why his perfectly good night, as well as job prospect was ruined, a 'ping' went through his mind, like his brain was receiving a telephone call. 

[i]Willing or Wounded[/i]

Willing and Wounded, Amon responded to the mental telephone, hoping that his attempt at sending a clear message back through was successful. Was this thing two-way? Healing was out of the question for him, but he had a reasonable amount of Vis that would be more helpful to whoever was playing telephone then to him at the moment and Amon was more than willing to share.