Post by Pyotr Alekseevich on Oct 12, 2016 13:14:53 GMT
Fyodor panted and heaved as he pulled himself over the wall and dropped down on the other side. He could hear the shouts in that barbarous tongue as the guards tried to clamber after him. No rest for the wicked, or was it the weary? Either way Fyodor wiped the sweat away and started off again, as he picked up his pace he heard the first pursuer drop over the wall and shout something, then the sound of a pistol firing. The round hit a cat a few feet to the left, thank god for rushed shots and heavy breathing!
The chase was a fast paced one, Fyodor sprinted through busy streets and empty alleys, followed closely by the small pack of men trying to catch him. Sometimes they would take a shot and it would miss wildly. The chase lasted for a few minutes before it reached the docks, still under repair but busy nonetheless. Fyodor was starting to panic, he was running out of places to hide...
A cargo ship was sailing towards the harbours exit, Fyodor didn't have long... He dashed for the pier, trying his best to pick up more speed, he could hear his pursuers getting closer and closer. He was almost there, Fyodor jumped from the pier, as he fell through the air he heard another pistol shot, this time he felt the ball hit his shoulder. The pain was intense, but he found himself occupied with clinging onto the side of the ship he had just hit.
"Who the fuck are you?!" A burly sailor dragged Fyodor on board.
"Hans, Hans Alerbreicht. Here, I have coin to pay for passage to wherever the hell you are going!"
"Who was after you?" The mans tone had softened, he examined the small gold pouch that Fyodor had handed him.
"Them? They own a gambling house, I may have fucked their bosses wife, and owed them a lot of money." Fyodor examined the entry wound with his fingers.
"Ha! I did the exact same thing in Venice one time. You have your passage friend Hans. But your not gonna like the destination."
"Why? Where is your cargo headed?"
"The Orient."
The chase was a fast paced one, Fyodor sprinted through busy streets and empty alleys, followed closely by the small pack of men trying to catch him. Sometimes they would take a shot and it would miss wildly. The chase lasted for a few minutes before it reached the docks, still under repair but busy nonetheless. Fyodor was starting to panic, he was running out of places to hide...
A cargo ship was sailing towards the harbours exit, Fyodor didn't have long... He dashed for the pier, trying his best to pick up more speed, he could hear his pursuers getting closer and closer. He was almost there, Fyodor jumped from the pier, as he fell through the air he heard another pistol shot, this time he felt the ball hit his shoulder. The pain was intense, but he found himself occupied with clinging onto the side of the ship he had just hit.
"Who the fuck are you?!" A burly sailor dragged Fyodor on board.
"Hans, Hans Alerbreicht. Here, I have coin to pay for passage to wherever the hell you are going!"
"Who was after you?" The mans tone had softened, he examined the small gold pouch that Fyodor had handed him.
"Them? They own a gambling house, I may have fucked their bosses wife, and owed them a lot of money." Fyodor examined the entry wound with his fingers.
"Ha! I did the exact same thing in Venice one time. You have your passage friend Hans. But your not gonna like the destination."
"Why? Where is your cargo headed?"
"The Orient."
