He ran.
Garrett, you've outdone yourself this time. He shook the thoughts from his mind.
The men were catching up, and they weren't very friendly. But then again, who would be, if their most priceless piece of jewelry, and at least $5000 in gold were stolen from right under their snobby noses?
"Get back here, taffer!!" was shouted from behind. Garrett winced as an arrow grazed his left arm.
There was no way Garrett, of all thieves, would give up now. This was his job, his life, his food, drink, and dreams...and Garrett was sure, one day, his death.
He was coming up on a dead end, but he knew this alley. Garrett counted his footfalls...
1..2..3..4..5..6..7..
Garrett threw all his weight to the right, and slammed through a door, invisible in the shadows.
Running up the stairs in nearly pitch-black darkness, with the smallest line of light coming through the bottom of the old wooden door at the top, he brought his bow out from along his back. Throwing himself against the door, he shattered whatever flimsy lock it had, and from within the gloomy room, he saw what he thought as home, a few days ago. Glassless windows lined the wall, with the occasional rat corpse lying half rotten on the floor.
Ah, home sweet home...
Garrett pulled an arrow, attached to a lightweight, yet strong rope, out from his pack. Putting the arrow onto the bow, he heard the guards shouting underneath, he had a few more moments.
He drew the bow.
If Garrett could do anything, it was use a bow.
Aiming carefully for the wooden roof on the next building, which he believed to be a personal home, he let fly. The arrow gave a gratifying whoooosh as it soared, and landed perfectly on the wooden support on the back of the house.
He smiled.
Grabbing the end of his rope, he let one minor coin slip to the floor. For your efforts, bastards.
Hopping nimbly onto the ledge, he turned around to see the first glare of a guard's helm.
Too late...
And with that, he flew...
Garrett, you've outdone yourself this time. He shook the thoughts from his mind.
The men were catching up, and they weren't very friendly. But then again, who would be, if their most priceless piece of jewelry, and at least $5000 in gold were stolen from right under their snobby noses?
"Get back here, taffer!!" was shouted from behind. Garrett winced as an arrow grazed his left arm.
There was no way Garrett, of all thieves, would give up now. This was his job, his life, his food, drink, and dreams...and Garrett was sure, one day, his death.
He was coming up on a dead end, but he knew this alley. Garrett counted his footfalls...
1..2..3..4..5..6..7..
Garrett threw all his weight to the right, and slammed through a door, invisible in the shadows.
Running up the stairs in nearly pitch-black darkness, with the smallest line of light coming through the bottom of the old wooden door at the top, he brought his bow out from along his back. Throwing himself against the door, he shattered whatever flimsy lock it had, and from within the gloomy room, he saw what he thought as home, a few days ago. Glassless windows lined the wall, with the occasional rat corpse lying half rotten on the floor.
Ah, home sweet home...
Garrett pulled an arrow, attached to a lightweight, yet strong rope, out from his pack. Putting the arrow onto the bow, he heard the guards shouting underneath, he had a few more moments.
He drew the bow.
If Garrett could do anything, it was use a bow.
Aiming carefully for the wooden roof on the next building, which he believed to be a personal home, he let fly. The arrow gave a gratifying whoooosh as it soared, and landed perfectly on the wooden support on the back of the house.
He smiled.
Grabbing the end of his rope, he let one minor coin slip to the floor. For your efforts, bastards.
Hopping nimbly onto the ledge, he turned around to see the first glare of a guard's helm.
Too late...
And with that, he flew...