Timestamp: Day #55, Fall of 509 A.V.
Location: Syliras- Laktan's residence/garden
Focus: Unarmed Combat/Gardening
A small, quaint, and square home was the residence of Laktan Vladmir. Where most would use most if not all of their lot of land for their house Laktan used most of it for an elegant garden. Every type of flora you could imagine was present in the fresh brown dirt; from the deadly nightshade to the beautiful daffodil. A year's or more work had gone into the well pruned garden and people occasionally came from different parts of the city to see the strange arrangement of foreign plants.
Laktan, like most days, was to be found in his garden. Stripped to the waist, the Akalak sat upon his knees in the midst of his garden. Sharp pointed years twitched as he surveyed the plant in front of him. Black skin glistened with the faintest hint of sweat, and the stone hard muscles underneath rippled with the sudden strike of a hand dug into the dirt. With an efficiency of movement similar to that of a machine Laktan pulled his hand out of the dirt, and the small weed came with it. Laktan tossed the rubbish aside and stroked the leaf of the plant that he had protected.
"The great Hemlock plant," Laktan muttered, "the killer and the savior of so many. Ingesting the wrong part of the plant in too large a dose can kill quickly. The death is never kind either. When used properly it can be a great medicine and pain killer. So delicate..."
The crunch of boots upon gravel and sand drew Laktan's attention and he turned to see two men in surcoats and leather jerkins. Each bore a sword at their hip and a kite shield strapped to their back, but only the older of the pair had a coat of arms printed on his jerkin. Syliran Knights.
"Good afternoon Laktan. Still down in the dirt like a woman, talking to your plants?" The older asked, placing a hand upon his hip. The younger chuckled and let a sly grin spread across his face.
"Interesting words coming from a man who excels in hiding behind a suit of metal like a coward. When will you ever step away from the protection of your protected city and face real danger like an actual warrior?" Laktan replied, slowly rising to his feet. His leather breeches, tucked into his high-strapped boots fitted a little tighter than was the normal fashion here. He watched as the smiled disappeared from the young one's face and his hand darted for his sword. The older Knight held out his hand though.
"You would be dead before you even drew young Squire. I've yet to meet an Akalak that does not carry that wickedly bladed knife with them at all times. Added to the fact that this particular gardener is an accomplished hand-to-hand combatant, and...long friend." He added as he busted into laughter and extended his hand for Laktan to shake. He did so, but his face did not change from the cold stare he directed at the young Squire.
"For what do you come to my home Knight? Winter approaches and I must make preparations for both the garden and my departure." Laktan inquired, releasing the Knight's hand.
"Some of my superiors have found themselves lacking in sufficient help with the training of some of our younger recruits. Our numbers have seen quite a boom recently and the masters are becoming strained. They have asked me to extend their request for help to you in teaching some of their Squires and Pages in unarmed combat. What say you?" The Knight asked.
"I'll consider it." Was all that Laktan would say.
OoC: Feel free to just hop in right here. The conversation is ended and it's just an awkward silence at the moment.