Snikkit was born at the bottom of the Mugrecueva, among puddles of oil and scrap nobody knew the use of.
Neither did he. But he loved the noise it made.
At six he found an engine. At seven he put a chain on it. At eight he lost the tip of a finger.
He laughed for three days straight.
He has not stopped since.
On his back he carries a pack that spits black smoke, drips something green and smells of burnt lightning. Where Snikkit passes, the grass never grows back. Birds change their route. Rivers think twice.
They say it pollutes more than all the dwarven forges put together. He takes it as a compliment.
His chainsaw is the most dangerous thing in the clan. For the enemy.
And for him.
He cannot stop it. He cannot hold it. It weighs more than he does and wants to cut more than he wants to stay in one piece.
When it slips and bites his leg, Snikkit does not scream.
He laughs louder.
Gorruk always puts him in the front row. Not because he is brave.
Because nobody else wants to stand next to him.
He goes for whoever can take the least. It is not cruelty. It is arithmetic.
And with a chainsaw, the arithmetic always works out for him.
Skills
Every hit leaves a Wound, and up to 40% extra damage.
Up to double damage, and at its best level it leaves 3 Wounds at once.
Up to 40% more damage against the enemy with the least health.
More damage for every living Goblin in the squad. If one falls, the rest hit harder.
After every Strike or Feat he rolls 1d20. On less than 5, he cuts himself with his own chainsaw.
I asked Snikkit why he laughs when he cuts himself. He looked at me as if it were the strangest question. Then he started the chainsaw and laughed again.
Lord MagniGet to know Snikkit for real
Unlock him, level him up and take him into battle. Bloodveil: Legends is free, not pay-to-win, and you can already play.