[center][h2]Arcadia[/h2]
[sub]Inside the Z-ATV[/sub][/center]

The man, he with the mask, Jäger felt as though masks hid many things. They are for show, yes, but there was no show, no game, they were truly out in the field. What curtain did the Drama Knife hide behind? People snickered as the jester continued to fail in wooing the Ilion woman across the Z-ATV, but to no avail. Jäger only grew more uneasy as he kept up the act. A thespian could guise their words better than most. He would need to keep a close eye on that one.

[color=6ecff6]"Yea, we are strangers, but no more. Know me as Jäger, monk of Saiga,"[/color] Jäger said. He had a strange way of speaking, having spent almost his entire life in the temple. There was a formal but odd quality to it, as if the polite nature of his words were overrun by their unconventional nature. Not even the most religious figures in main cities spoke in such a tongue. It was a rural, archaic dialect that was slowly dying as Saiga perpetually remained small and insignificant. [color=6ecff6]"And you are known as Haley, correct?"[/color] The joints in Jäger's armor groaned as he stood, a form not overpowering but demanding attention. His greaves clanked against the Z-ATV floor as he strode through the circle of Junkers. When Jäger reached Haley, he bent his arm and turned an open, clawed hand to the side, requesting a more intimate greeting than a simple handshake. It demanded each of them to be at the same level, and interlock themselves much more closely, leaving an unseen hand from peripheral vision. To grasp the hand was to trust the other would not attempt to harm them by a dagger in the back.