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

Grimri chewed on his mustache, glancing to the others around him. His stomach growled, and then low and behold, the ratling had appeared. Grimri felt his hunger pangs were from some contagious disease the short fellow had spread to him. Or maybe he just hadn't eaten since the fighting had started, and anyone who has ever been in combat to the death knew killing brought quite the appetite. Maybe after this he could grab a bite. 

But as for his employer here... 

"I'm no' much fer ship combat or space maneuvering..." He said, skeptical on why they would want to hear his opinion. He supposed he would rather be consulted than not, but it wasn't really his purview. Even his engineering and crafting skills were more for ground-based vehicles and machines. Other than boarding actions, he was out of his element in space other than in the most strange and dire of circumstances. 

"If we can get close enough t' board, I'm yer man. Otherwise, cannae help ye." 

Crossing his burly armed, he looked to the assembled crew. No doubt the ecclesiastical members would cry to attack. As long as they didn't blow up in space, he wasn't against the notion. As he waited, he double checked his gun, making sure it was fully loaded and ready to be used.