[center][b]Grimri "Ironclad" Haldengard[/b][/center] 

He was content to smoke and listen, sociable enough with his own kind, and other mercs, but a bit slower to trust this mishmash of whatever the ancestors or the emperor had rung up. Smoke wafted lazily out of his mouth and nose as he sat, though he regarded the ratling with a quizzical look. He'd served with one of them before. Deadshots they were, though untrustworthy and a bit on the scraggly side, even for one like Grimri, though this ratling was all dressed up. 

"They paying you in pies?" He deadpanned, though his attention was swiftly taken by the others as they spoke and referenced his presence at various points. 

"Well doc, I can tell ye I'm built like most men yer familiar with. Well, on the inside, at least. Brain, spleen, liver, heart, lungs, gut." He gestured with his hand as if he was vaguely scooping entrails out of his stomach. "My parts just work better, and it's harder to get at 'em in a fight." He replied with a grin that showed his teeth, parting his beard and mustache like parting a thick bush with your hands. It was true, in a fashion. Squats had to endure harsh conditions on grim worlds, with thick bones and tough skin. Grimri's people had particularly long lifespans to boot, comparable to adeptus astartes. "And I'm here to make sure ye stay alive too, by killing whatever is tryin'a kill ye." 

He took a long drag from his cigar, and with surprising dexterity, he blew out what looked like a smoke sword, with the merest curves for a hilt. He did this right as Edmund was introducing him. It was clear his squat body was loaded to the teeth, and his shotgun looked made of some asteroid steel and heavy as all hell. So Guilliman himself was giving the orders, aye? Grimri never much gave thought to the Primarchs, except the Russ. By all accounts, he had good relations with Grimri's people. 

Even with his devil-may-care attitude, he did bow low in respect when the mechanicus fellow spoke of honoring the machine spirit. The squats weren't too devout when it came to the Omnissiah, but they respected machinery, engineering, and all things mechanical. Grimri had a particularly fascination with such things, which was the crucible of him wanting to make his own weaponry. He had forged the gun and his axe, and he could dress, assemble, and reassamble most anything in the imperium, at least when it came to small arms. 

"So, when do we start boss? I'm not against ye paying me to sit around, but..." He let the question hang, giving a shrug.