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The trainer of the Republic was a rather elderly gentleman. Most never saw all the years he had and even fewer had seen the number of battles he had. Most people made the comment that he must have fought every form of being in the the world and had scars to prove it. He never went that far, but he would admit that he had seen his fair share of combat.

His clothes were more suitable for a hunter, but they appeared to also be comfortable enough to fight in. His shirt lacked sleeves, but he had some bad instances were they had gotten in the way. His arms themselves had scars on the upper part of them, the lower had some as well, but not as many. His hair was long and gray which surprised no one who had learned his age. His beard was somewhat odd considering how everything else looked, he had it trimmed in a somewhat noble style. His eyes were also things that hinted that he may be more than just a hermit who had came down more recently, they almost seemed to stare into the other person as if looking for something.

At the moment he simply sat on a bench he made from a log, located in a small canopy area, polishing one of his weapons. The weapon, doppelhander, was based from the model of a rather large sword that he had shortened to make it more agile and now it could be swung with one arm. It was his sharpest blade and one that he had used since he was a young man. Setting it to the side he looks out of his canopied area to the rainy world outside of it. It didn't bother him, but it did mean that business would be virtually nonexistent today. Shaking his head he goes back to his sword.

The rain made him think of his exile before he came to Gambino. In the forest you had to find your own area to dry off, but here places of cover were everywhere. Even now he would go back every once in a while. Life in the wilderness was simple except for the sometimes hostile animals. Still most of them ignored him now which made his travels easy. In fact, he sometimes even brought along the wolf that he had raised from a pup, but the story behind that was one that someone had to ask about first.

He raises his thumb to test the edge of his sword. With a tad bit more pressure he would have slit his finger open, but he had done this far too many times to worry about that. The other weapons were behind him on a rack out of the rain. He kept great care of each of them since to a warrior, ex or not, the sword was your life. He finishes and places this last weapon upon that same rack. He goes back to sitting looking up at the cloudy sky.

His location was a short distance out of Gambino. He wanted space between him and all of the noise of the area. It was quieter here, but he couldn't get any news of the place without going to it or having some one come to him. In fact he hadn't heard anything about Kaki's supposed death or the sort. He hadn't gone to town in a little over a month.