"And ooga booga to you too." Maximilian retorted. Lazily, he tilted his head to the left side and allowed his sword to fall into his left hand, his shoulder pushing the blade off itself. He rotated his shoulders as if to warm up and kicked his legs out. The blade was held out in front of him, both hands on the main grip of the zweihander. Maximilian's face appeared more annoyed than anything else.

"You look a bit too dark for a saracen and your accent's all wrong. My. You must be a man of Afric! I've seen one or two as mercenaries but never of your... stature. Your armor has no style though- too many bits and pieces sticking out. Why bother wearing a mask? All your kind look alike anyways." the mercenary babbled.