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[b]Name/Titles:[/b] 'Jake' Jacob Elijah Moore 

[b]Denomination:[/b] Undivided 

[b]Appearance: [/b] Beneath the wide brim of his dark brown, and nearly black chapeu, is the face of a man who at one time may have been quite handsome. Rough stubble streaches across his rather chiseled jawline and up into his hair; the only interruption being the large scar upon his right cheek. A deep burn; shaped like a gash reaches from just below the right corner of his mouth, to a bit before his earlobe. Extending from the main body of the scar are several long red arcs vaguely reminiscent of electricity, the the deepest (and longest for that matter) of which span up into his brow, across the bridge of his nose, and down the side of his neck.

His eyes; an icy shade of blue, are cold, hollow and focused.  Should he every take off his hat, the somewhat thin hair beneath is a dark brown, yet almost coated with a matte finish of gray, and is always neatly combed to the right side.

 His attire is that of a hardy leather tail coat and vest that match the color of his hat. On his dark belt, there are two holsters carrying a pair of twin six-shooter bolt pistols, many small loops to hold ammunition, as well as a buttoned loop holding a vaguely metallic lasso.  The dark leather gloves he wears have noticably metallic fingertips, and if one were to look closely, crude circuitry travels within the leather from these fingertips, and up into his tailcoat.

[b]Personality:[/b] A twisted reflection of the man that once was, Jacob is cruel, sadistic and vulgar to almost a fine point.  He loves nothing more than the thrill of breaking another person, and running down any who try to flee.  Cheating, lying and theft are not necessarily below him, but he enjoys the previously mentioned evils far more than the subtleties of mindgames and trickery.

Perhaps the only vestige of his past self remaining is his rather polite demeanor, often eerily so.

He is more a man of action rather than words, typically the quiet type that speaks only when nessecary, or when spoken to. 

Unlike most other devotees of the ruinous powers, Jake views the dark gods as benefactors whom can give him the power and knowledge he needs to pursue his own goals, rather than forces that innately deserve worship and veneration. Despite this, the lengths he would be willing to go to in order to recieve the favor of the the ruinous are nonetheless few and far between.

Despite how warped and twisted he may be, his love for Mary holds strong.  Any who try to seduce him or merely suggest he partake in any action unfaithful to his beloved wife, shall either be met with hostility, or pursued with a ravenous vengeance by Jacob.

There are times that the man that was bleeds through; often when he is thinking of Mary, but only for fleeting moments at a time.

[b]Biography:[/b] 
There was a woman. 

She loved him, and he loved her.

She was taken from him and he tried to save her-- and the rest is none of their fucking business.

If anyone were to ask Jacob Elijah Moore about his past, that's all he'd be willing to tell them.  

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Jake was a simple man, living a simple life on the world of Wessar IV... An honest fellow that didn't smoke, drink, or even swear.  He was a truely kindhearted and honest man, through and through; a true rarity in the grimdark 41st millennium.  During the time Jake had lived there, Wessar IV had been something of a death world to the imperium.  Though the surface of the planet was home to vast expanses of deserts, plains, and mountains; no large concerted effort bad ever been made to tame these lands, likely due to the small warp storms that would form  and disperse every so often across it's surface, rendering such an effort likely doomed to fail, especially considering the already highly aggressive flora and fauna of the planet. 

Most men of working age on this harsh planet would dedicate their lives to herding the massive hordes of the more placid animals that roamed the ever stretching plains. These men were dubbed 'wranglers', and Jake was one such man.  They would spend their days on horseback, equipped with electrified lassos,       knifes, and variants of the bolt pistol; designed reminiscently (and out of sheer coincidence) like the iconic six-shooter pistols  that were once a staple of the ancient cowboys of Terra, defending the herds from the many threats that stalked the expanses of the untamed wilds.  

It was a bleak way to live, as hundreds of wranglers would likely die every day to the elements, and depression was constantly looming over the heads of those that lived, threatening to drag them into its unfathomable depths.  Some days, Jake swore he'd have long since lost his mind if it weren't for his one true love, Mary Fitzgerald; a fiery redhead that had claimed his heart back when they were children.  Every three months, wranglers were allowed to return to their homes and see their families for a solar week before being sent back into the wilds.  And each time he'd return to his beloved, she would be waiting for him on the front steps of their simple homestead, a bright smile on her face as he stepped into her loving embrace.

She was six months pregnant with their child when Jake would see her for the last time.  He was riding toward their simple homestead in the dead of night, a pale moon painting the small settlement silhouette with an eerie light.  It was quiet.... Almost as if the hustle and bustle of life within the town had been smothered to a whisper.  By the time he'd seen them, it was already too late to act upon the foreboding dread that had been building in his chest.  Illuminated in the moonlight, thin humanoid figures clad in black armor were accompanied by, large, malformed creatures, brutes that moved with pained, and unnatural limping.  Grasped tightly within the hand; if it could even be called that, of one of these grotesque abominations, was the limp shape of woman, the red hue of her draping locks just ever so slightly discernable through the darkness.  A blazing inferno surged to life within the core of the lone rider's soul as he drew his pistols in defiance, and opened fire. 

Not a single shot hit it's mark.
 
One of the dark figures raised the unmistakable shape of weapon, as its masked face radiated a spiteful smile of cruel amusement.  Had Strider not reared up in fear that exact moment, Jake's head would've been blown clean off. Tearing through the horse's neck, whatever the xeno had fired glanced off Jacob's right cheek, causing an excruciating pain unlike any he'd ever felt before in his life.  As the night slowly faded away into nothingness, the man could only watch; paralyzed in agony, as the jagged black ships took off into the void of space, leaving the town burning, leaving the man to writhe as if they were mocking the futility of his attempt. By the time Jake had come to, the xenos raiders had long since left, the town nothing more than smouldering cinder.  

Three days he trudged on foot through the blistering heat of the desert sun, and against all odds he made it to the nearest neighboring settlement after no less than seven close calls with death.

The man Jake used to be died out in the sands. The man that survived being  a twisted reflection of his former self, one that sought a darker, more potent power, that he may reclaim his beloved Mary.

As days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, the former wrangler eventually found himself in the employ of the merchant Euromulus Krynne; working upon one of the merchant's many ships as a security detail.

Little did he know that his employer had more in store for the man known as Jacob Elijah Moore...

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[b]Other:[/b] 
[List]
[*][u][b]Westar Pattern Bolt Pistols:[/b][/u] Unlike the more traditional pattern of bolt pistol, Jake's Westar pattern bolt pistols boast higher accuracy and range, at the expense of a longer reload time, and a strict limit of holding a meager six shots at any time.
[*][u][b]Electrified Lasso:[/b][/u] A staple tool amoung the wranglers of Wessar IV, this lasso is made from the fibres harvested from a specific bioelectric carnevorous plant native to Wessar IV.  Though it does not innately hold an electric charge, its impressive ability to carry voltage is utilized via the specially made gloves of wranglers. When all five fingertips of a wrangler's glove come into contact with the lasso, a powerful and paralyzing electric shock is delivered to the ensnared target. When using all five fingertips of both gloves, the shock delivered is that of near-lethal level; making it increadibly useful when fighting off the death world's indigenous wildlife.  As a precaution to protect wranglers from electrocuting themselves with their own weapon, the circuitry of the gloves extends into the inner vest, as well as the pants and boots of a wrangler's garb; subsequently grounding them.
[*][u][b]Supplementary Bandoliers:[/b][/u] Out on the frontier, it's not often that you'll get any more ammunition than what's on your person at the time, subsequently, Jake wears a pair of leather bandoliers, each from shoulder to hip between his outer coat, and inner vest.
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