[center][b]Roald Cliffbloom - Ratling Trailblazer[/b][/center]

It was not without effort that Roald held back a chuckle at the Squat's joke.

He did enjoy himself a good pie.  Apple, sauerabfel, boysenberry, blackberry, cranberry, strawberry, cherry or well... Yes yes he enjoyed many varieties of pie.

"Mostly the same," he replied about his anatomy, "Human but a wee bit smaller.  Not in all places mind ye.  And I specialize in a venturin' out and in gettin' an' keepin' an eye on the enemy.  If ye see a shot comin' outta nowhere and blastin' a t'ird eye in some buggers face that'd be me.  Or if'n ye hear a big boom out in the distance.  That'd be me too.  I'm a crafty lil bugger I am."

It were about right.  Like most Ratlings there weren't much to him.  Where others might just be able to survive a bolter round to an arm or leg, granted minus that arm or leg, for Roald there simply wasn't all that much space from an arm or leg to his body and there wasn't all that much blood a'pumping through his wee little body.  A Ratling were never going to be one to trade blows with much of anything. 

Maybe a gretchin, Roald supposed.  A knife fight between him and one of them might just work.  He might have to test that.  But much of anything bigger than that and he would need the element of surprise, or distance, or high powered explosives tied to one manner or another of detonator that the poor sod would never realize he'd activated until his thinkin' bits and his fightin' bits were quite some distance away from one another and spread all about the place.  Something to even the odds out, you understand.

Having a bit of a think of all this, Roald was getting hungry.  He would never admit it to that Squat who just maybe havin' a wee bit of a go at him, but a pie did sound nice right about now.