Octavius was quiet proud of his little escape, but of course Ceres had to show up and poke holes in his sails. She asked about the next step. But it wasn't time for that. It was time for this step. This step involved holding on, reloading as quickly as possible, and hoping no one tried to stop them. That last bit was obviously too much to ask, though. The pirate had just gotten his revolver reloaded when someone appeared on horseback behind them, followed by another four marines, also on horses. All of them looked very upset. Being the intelligent sort, the captain was smart enough to know that they were being slowed down by all the extra weight on the carriage. So he hopped down beside the driver, snatched the reins away, and pushed the poor bastard off of his seat. Then he snapped the reins and yelled for the horses to run faster, which they managed, but only a little. The marines hadn't yet managed to catch up to their prey, but only because the street they were on was narrow enough to make it unsafe. But not for much longer. 

"What do you believe in, Ceres?" Captain Cuttlam asked loudly. He was just curious to know what was keeping her alive through all this. She had a deity as kind as his own fickle mistress, it would seem, and he was interested to know if that one might be more consistent than Lady Luck. For now, though, she was still helping him out. Another opportunity presented itself, and the pirate lord wasn't going to shy away from it just because it was insanely dangerous. He lashed at the horses once more, to keep them running, and then climbed on top of the carriage once more. He opened fire on the marines, winging one of them, and causing another to flinch a little too hard, directing his horse into a harrowing trip that ended with the beast tripping and flying end-over-end and killing them both upon smashing into a wall that jutted out a little too far. But by that point, Octavius had jumped up and off the carriage, his canine arm lengthening to latch onto a steel rod that extended out over the street. At one time it had held a sign, now it was empty, and just waiting to help a notorious ne'er-do-well get away from the law. It took but an instant to haul himself up and onto the roof of the building. And now he was cooking with naphtha. 

Since he didn't have a home to go back to, the captain was prepared to go all out in his escape, regardless of Ceres. She hadn't shaken his hand, so he didn't owe her a damn thing. Heedless of her progress, he began to sprint along the rooftop, stuck on the decorative ledge that wrapped around the steeply sloped roof. But it was more than enough for the man in need of escape. The marines took potshots, but couldn't hope to hit such a glorious pirate. And then, in a feat of mind-blowing speed, and balance, the escaping criminal tucked away his pistol, ripped a loose board from the decaying roof beside him, and tossed it in front of him as he veered out and away from the buildings. There was a pair of wash-lines strung across the street, and on the other end, they were secured to a flat-roofed building that led to further escape routes. The only way across was those ropes, though. Being insane enough to try such a thing, the pirate let his momentum push him and his board across the street, supported only by a man's determination to not have to deal with his wife's complaints about where she was to hand their laundry for the rest of his life. That man's determination held, and it was beautiful. 

Despite his captivity, the brigand had no trouble doing a front-flip dismount and landing mostly on his feet. He then sprinted across the roof and looked like he was going to try and jump across the next street too. That wasn't quite the case, though. This time he used his daemonic limb to latch onto the lip of the roof even as he jumped. He stopped it from lengthening any more immediately before he crashed into the building across the street. Grabbing a window sill with his regular hand, he then dropped onto the canopy below, sliding off of that and into an empty cart. The store had hoped was still around was indeed open for business, and the deranged Captain Cuttlam flipped himself out of the cart and into the shop. He whipped out his revolver as he stormed the place, grabbing a cloak with his empty hand and throwing it on. The man behind the counter didn't look like he had aged a day, though, and they exchanged a nod as the pirate lord slipped out the back door. Tired, scared, and shaking with the rush of the insanity he had just pulled off, Octavius dove head-first into a pile of scrap-cloth that had been tossed into the alley from the floor above. And then he just stopped moving. He was positive that no one had seen him well enough to realize what was going on. And the marines hadn't been down that last street yet. Yes they would search for him, but they weren't going to waste their time digging through refuse. Even if it was mostly clean refuse. He did wonder if Ceres was okay, but it was her own fault if she wasn't. She should have shaken his hand...

((too far, or just far enough?))