<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>Gomorra main thoroughfare, back toward the Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong><del>Big Jake</del>, Scooter, Matthew Ford, CLOSED<br/><hr/><br/>Scrabbling at her neck, Nell could feel panicked sobs waiting to well out of her as the man that had stolen her slumped away, a deadweight.  Clawing fingers yanked and tugged the burlap sack off her head and she threw it away violently, gasping for clear, cool air as she choked on her sobs.  Her first glance behind her to the dark between the buildings showed nothing, but she couldn't see much there, only to have her eyes flit to the man that lay in the street with his woman bending over him.  There was a little regret in her eyes as she watched for a few moments, unable to make herself go to help, terror still informing her movements.<br/><br/>Only then did she look down to see the man that had stolen her away.  For whatever purpose that was, she didn't know, but she wasn't sure she wanted to find out either.  Deadman's Rest, werewolves, and being stolen away in naught but her shift in the dead of night and there wasn't much to think about.  Her mind dawning that she was in only a gauzy shift, her fiery hair the only thing saving her modesty, she gulped convulsively, one last look shot to the man that had surely saved her life, and her feet took her back the way they had come.  Too late to find refuge with Tommy, it was only the iron will and reputation of her employer that could save her on a night like this...