<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/45/Bigjake.png)(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/Scooter2.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Big Jake, Scooter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Sioux Union<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 20th<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>After Midnight<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Nell Robinson, CLOSED<br/><hr/><br/>“Deadman’s Rest?”  The heavier voice gave a little swallow, and not by intention clutched her a little closer.  The squeeze was more for his reassurance than her own, and he barely seemed to notice her squirming in his arms - but then again, his arms were thicker around than her legs were.  “We gotta… go<em>all</em>the way to Deadman’s Rest?”<br/><br/>The other voice gave a grunt.  “Yeah, all the way.  You’ve been out to Deadman’s Rest before,” offered Big Jake.<br/><br/>“Well, yeah… but it was during the day.  That place is creepy.”  He swallowed audibly.  “I went out there once and there was lights moving in that old manor.  Up in the windows.  But they weren’t right.  They weren’t no oil lamps or … or torches or nothing.  They were funny colored.  And them folks screaming in the asylum all the time.”  He gave a shudder<br/><br/>“Ain’t no one screamin’ in the asylum no more,” scowled Big Jake.  “Werewolf tore ‘em all apart.”<br/><br/>The man carrying her stopped cold.  “But they never found the real werewolf.”<br/><br/>The other voice snapped, impatient.  “There ain’t no fuckin’ werewolf.”<br/><br/>“Says you.  You wasn’t there, Jake.  I didn’t get there til the end, and I’m tellin’ you, it was a werewolf.”  The behometh carrying her still hadn’t begun to move again.<br/><br/>“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.  Seven feet of pussy you are.  Move it, or we ain’t gonna have to worry about no damn imaginary werewolf.  We’re just gonna have people askin’ us why we kidnapped a goddam redhead out of the Golden Mare.  So the only thing we’re gonna have to worry about is getting a damn noose around our necks.  Can it.”<br/><br/>He stepped along quietly, the big man’s footfalls not so quiet - but they were both of them practiced in moving quietly, or as quiet as a human mountain was really capable of moving.