Mobo Bang-Dead's page

"They will kill the Bay next!" Mobo rolls up his ensemble of items back into his backpack- an old worn out bag with someone else's initials monogrammed into the flap.

Mobo wags his gun at Attalas and also whispers, "Were you a sleep-eating again?!"

Mobo rolls out of his sleeping pile and grabs his gun in a fluid motion, surprisingly landing on his feet. He points the gun around as he assess the room.
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19

Mobo lays his Boomstick nearby at the ready, and curls into a ball sleeping at the foot of one of the beds covered in blankets and his mismatched possessions.

Mobo starts humming something as his beady eyes light up at the thought of salted herring and other savory fishy dishies.

Mobo looks indignantly as Jez gulps his drink, then the defiant goblin grabs and chugs any drink that isn't being held.

"If we gotta wait til sunshine, time to ask questions and thump some heads if they no remember!"

"We never finish meals, we just take break to stab and burn and shoot things!" Mobo greedily finishes whatever is left on his plate, and is scratching his chin with his fork as he waits for the others.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Mobo watches intently to see if the large fishing man is about to explode.

"Why do fish need guild? Who stole bodies? Why nobody wanna look at you? Is it cuz you smell like fish? It's okay, Mobo likes fish."

"And when we climb to cliff, me and Attalas will do cannonballs into the ocean! Big splash! We figure out what slashed or gnashed bodies. We good at that."

With his feet far from the ground, Mobo rocks back and forth with content, stuffing fish in his beer-foam covered face.

"On the boat you said Chilly-Ox are devils. Onward Bomomo-Rinn!"

Mobo looks up to you with large quizzical red eyes, clearly not understanding the difference.

"Hi Bomomo-Rinn! Me Mobo BangDead! Take us to the Barf Well!"

Mobo jumps up and grabs his hand, bouncing off the ground to shake it.

"Hi! Who you?"

How much time has passed overall in this campaign, weeks and months etc? We miss any birthdays? :P

Mobo jumps from one ogre footprint to the next. "You follow path of Gore. Mobo follow path of Attalas."

"Mobo will play for you!" Mobo looks around and shouts, "Mobo needs drums!!"

"Well, Olive-lord, Mobo hopes you not have all those shines with you. Mobo leans really close and whispers, "Not all goblins, ogres, blue-hairs, and Ragnvalds are as nice as we is." He grins wickedly with a drumstick in one hand, and the other now holding Boomstick.

While the others negotiate, Mobo pulls off his boots and starts counting a thousand out on his fingers and toes. Somewhere after ten he just starts nodding vigorously.

Mobo resumes gnawing on his plate, looking at his hands and mumbling softly to himself. "Right to live... left to live... Hell night... Prowess... female prow... what is prow?"

"We probably gonna go no matter what, but if we get shinies and food it makes it better!"

Mobo grins. "See? We ogres and goblin not all dumb as Ragnvald looks!"

"Oh Mobo knows letters! Capital of Blackcove is B! B is for bug... is the mayor a bug? Attalas smashes bugs. Mobo from a tribe, now also a Licktoad. You ever heard of Licktoads?"

"Your town know you leave? Maybe everybody else looking for help too. Raids sound fun. Okay. We help raid your Chilly-Ox."

Mobo is broken from his drooling stare at Ragnvald's arm when he hears the large man mention tossing him over a cliff. Mobo fixes his beady eyes back on the haunches before him.

"So..." Mobo manages between a fist full of beef and another fist full of possibly beef. "Who you?" He asks their bearded guest.

"Sure. Keep nose high, Attalas been eating pig."

Mobo has 800 shinies left that he doesn't need. He's definitely willing to help Attalas purchase anything, since it makes Mobo look even better in the eyes of other goblins.

Mobo picked up a few tracer bullets, some regular bullets and powder horns, and is ready to go!

1d10 ⇒ 2 Bah!

Gunslinger 6th

Can bullets be purchased in this town? Or can I get X amount of days to craft new ones?

Hey Mobo started off on a boat!

No real modules of merit come to mind. I'm up for just about anything.

Time to find out if goblin pee is poisonous!

Is the Jarl's sword magical?

While everybody gathers their shinies, Mobo counts to see if any loyal goblins remain alive. If not, he will content himself with biting coins to test their metal.

Mobo fires once more at the injured mephit.

Boomstick 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13

Damage 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

And that's a misfire.

Mobo is furious at the mephit jamming his gun, gnashing his teeth and spouting several Goblin obscenities he brandishes his dogslicer.

Mobo lets the big guys attack the big guys. He reloads Boomstick and aims for one of the mephits.

Boomstick 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19

Damage 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Mobo waits until Attalas has his go.

After his gigantic friend does what he does best, Mobo takes a shot at the Jarl.

Boomstick 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22

Damage 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

And this is why the goblin had his gun out.

Mobo stops jingling for a moment to pull out Boomstick.

Mobo shuffles along, a trail of shinies in his wake.

"What are kadda peshi imp osters?" Mobo struggles over the words. "And what is preeze ice? Is that what this is made of?" Mobo pokes the wall with his dogslicer. "Melt, preeze ice!"

"Mobo agrees. Butt is numb and cold!" Mobo shivers as he holds fistfuls of coins.

Mobo overloads his pockets, his goblinfelt, his hat, his boots, and backpack, greedily filling his pockets with coins and gems, oblivious to the coins that trickle out through the holes in his outfit.

Unless stopped, Mobo is about to Uncle Scrooge into this gold.

Mobo's large eyes grow even larger at the shinies. Drooling with a mad grin he begins walking towards the treasure.

"Splish and splash! Onward Attalas!" Mobo happily dances in the slosh left in the melting wake of the path forged by the key.

Mobo trots off at the ogre's heels, brandishing his Boomstick.

"Take the key into the ice,
Getting out would be so nice.
Red bird misses wifey's vice,
And pantry now has only mice."