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Posted by williamashford on Aug 22, 2008 20:57:00 GMT -6
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At the age of 14, Iesland was on the run. Not from the government, not from any one specific person, but running nonetheless. Sleeping in old, abandoned, burnt out buildings with the homeless, Iesland moved at night and slept during the day. Not only did he attract less notice at night, but he was sure by now that his pursuers worked in the light.
Looking up at the night sky and noticing the pinkish tinge on the horizon, Iesland decided it was time to bed down for the day. Walking slowly and stealthily through back alleys, climbing up walls and running along rooftops, Iesland was suddenly aware that someone was trailing him.
~Shit, they found me again. I hope I don't have to fight this one.~
Dropping down a closeline to the streets below, Iesland increased his pace of that of a run to him, but would seem like a sprint to most. Iesland couldn't keep that pace for long, but hopefully it would be long enough. Now hearing the no-longer stealthy footfalls of his follower, Iesland discerned that he was on the rooftops.
After about half-an-hour of frantic chase, Iesland could not keep up his pace and had to stop. Slipping into a darkened alcove, Iesland drew the four sharpened metal sticks from their back-sheaths and readied himself into a defensive position.
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