<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/72/Chestnut.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Nell Robinson<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>20 May 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>after midnight<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Big Jake, Scooter, CLOSED<br/><hr/><br/><em>Werewolves and lunatics?  Lunatic werewolves?</em>The smaller man's tone mixed with the mountain's fear made Nell's heart jump into her throat.  Some sort of unnatural Bedlam was hardly what she would consider her lot in life, and the fear of waking nightmares was enough to find her voice.  One funeral was enough for her, and not her own...<br/><br/>"He has more sense in him than you do, wanting to go up there..." she muttered quietly, going limp in the big man's arms.  Purchase on a rock was well and good if one had a purchase to hold onto and the mountain had nothing but muscle, and possibly not enough sense to know anything but the waves of his own superstition.  The other one had nothing but a bullying mien and that had never sat well with her.  Her exhaustion fought with the adrenalin in her system and her distrust of the men and she squirmed mightily again.<br/><br/>"Put me down..."  she ground out through clenched teeth, her plea only meant for the bigger man.  The other was so set in his ways that he would be useless to try and parlay with.  The big one seemed to have some common sense about him.  "Please...?"<br/><br/>Charm or no, she'd have a better road with him than the Jake fellow.