In every culture both heroic or twisted there is the crazy guy, there's ALWAYS a crazy guy. In the great holds of the dwarfs it's the Blast master, not necessarily a fool but a small time genius in the art of BANG, BOooMMM and KABBOOOM. He puts much art as science into his dangerous work, making every bomb or stick of TNT a masterpiece and both a weapon and tool of his trade.
From the slightest spark to a deafening expolotion he enjoys his work with a passionate laugh that always lasts longer and somtimes louder than each detonation. But somtimes you need more than a rucksack full of dynamite: In his hands he carries a large bore blunderbuss full of shot. A blast from this usually makes an ambush of Goblins second guess their next move, least they take the place of the three who charged first and lie dead and de-faced.

For his outfit he wears a chainmail tunic over his chest leaving his arms bare with clansman tattoos. Over his hands are large and extra thick fireproof gloves. On his feet are heavy fur and leather boots for the mountains cold, not to mention his crimson pants made from three layers of linen. Around his waist is a large and heavy buckled belt supporting a leather sash equipped with buckshot cases for quick reload. His head sporting a ginger tailed but short mohican, a sideburned face parading sunbleached tips forming his beard. A real character hiding his manic eyes behind engineer's goggles which perch over his bulbous drooping nose!

"Hahaha that one sounded like my Aunt after her thundergast cabbage stew!" - Amos Cracklock