I work 12 hrs a day, 4 days a week, and mostly post on days off, so strict posting order can be a problem for me, if you want to keep things flowing smoothly. So long as we don't fall into the trap of everyone waiting on someone else to post, no order should be fine.<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Moash Teft<div class="floatright">(https://s17.postimg.org/iqh3yvlkf/Moash.png)</div><br/><strong>Race:</strong>Naturalized Skaldi<br/><strong>Gender:</strong>Male<br/><strong>Age:</strong>Who's counting?<br/><br/><strong>Background</strong><br/><br/>Instantly pickable as a foreigner, Moash lacks the graceful beauty that so often marks a d'Ange. He is squat and solid, and even stronger than he looks, the running joke being that he is descended from a troll. He has a square jaw, a flattened nose that has been broken many a time, and hazel eyes. He keeps himself clean shaven, both to ensure there is nothing to grab in a brawl, and because with his male pattern baldness, anything else would just look stupid.<br/><br/>Moash wasn't always the surly, hardened man he is today. When he first came to Terre d'Ange, he was an idealistic youth, with a pretty young wife, looking for a better life. He found himself a job as a lawman, a dangerous, but respectable living. Then his wife ran off with a noble, and he was left to pick up the pieces. To make matters worse, the nobleman, deciding Moash was an eyesore, arranged for him to be reassigned to the frontier, basically a death sentence, albiet a slow one. His wife's betrayal left him with a festering resentment towards both nobles, and women, and with the strife that followed, he never really had a chance to get past it.<br/><br/>Life on the frontier is very different to that of the more civilized cities.Out there, in the lawless fringes,  he  did whatever it took to keep the order, and prevent things spiraling into chaos, often required to step outside of the letter of the law. He lost many a colleague through those years, developing a fairly cynical view of humanity in the process. It's hard to care when you're caught between common folk behaving like animals, and nobles who are either corrupt, incompetent, or both. Like so many others, he just did the best he could.<br/><br/>His reward? The brass claimed his methods were too brutal, that he was too willing to bend the law, and kicked his ass to the curb. Ungrateful pricks. Ever since, he's been making a living as a mercenary, doing whatever needs done, so long as the price is right.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Talents and skills</strong><br/><br/>- Master brawler and dirty fighter<br/>- Highly capable armed and unarmed<br/>- Trained lawkeeper<br/>- Smarter than he looks<br/>- Physically powerful<br/><br/><strong>Flaws</strong><br/><br/>- Horses disagree with him<br/>- Hardheaded<br/>- Pragmatic to a fault<br/>- Can be uncaring and downright cruel<br/><br/><strong>Key Equipment</strong><br/><br/>Worn: Light steel plate armour over sturdy padded leather, designed to protect the important bits while still allowing freedom of movement.<br/>Weapons: No nonsense shortsword, truncheon, knuckle dusters, his head<br/>On belt: Coinpurse(nearly empty), small knife, several lengths of sturdy cord, hipflask<br/>Other: Sturdy leather boots, well worn.<br/>Pack: Spare clothing, tarnished watchman's badge, grooming supplies, oilskins, large waterskin, emergency kit(A bottle of moonshine).