' Doberman Pinscher, you are noble, majestic, and utterly honorable. Since your origin in the late nineteenth century, you have been the premiere guard dog and personal protector.

You are a highly energetic and intelligent dog, suited for police and military work, as well as canine sports. You have the mental stability and emotional warmness to be an excellent family guardian and companion.

Black and Tan sleek coated, athletic build, deep chest and aerodynamic silhouette, you look like a sports car created with the finest of German engineering. You are an amazing combination of speed and power. Fast enough to run down a fleeing perpetrator and strong enough stop an attacker in his tracks.

During the second world war, you were sent to the Pacific Front, where you were used as guards, scouts, and messengers.

However in the 1970s you were unfairly labeled the devil's dog. Grossly misportrayed in film and news accounts, as a breed not to be trusted, a man biter, literally a dog that would bite the hand that feeds it. You have survived the bad press, today the world recognizes your true nature and embraces your finer attributes.

A canine sentinel, you are a medium to large breed of dog created by Karl Friedrich Louis Doberman, a dogman with a vision and a need. As his town's tax collector, Doberman needed a loyal companion and capable protector, this was the genesis of your creation. 100 years later and you're still serving your creators vision, mankind would be blessed, if you were to serve 100 more. '

~ Name ~

Pascale, meaning Easter in French, due to his birthday.

~ Age ~

Only eighteen months, though he has been training since he was just a pup. It is to be kept in mind, as well, that he was bred for war.

~ Gender ~

Male.

~ Sexuality ~

As an animal, he'll naturally be inclined to females. However, he is likely to be neutered in the future, and so will feel no sexual attraction, or need to procreate.

~ Country of Service ~

France.

~ Role ~

Combat Dog, used in the frontlines like Dobermans often were in World War Two, and also to suss our bombs. His role in war lead his breed to be named 'the devil's dog.'

~ Appearance ~

With his docked tail and cropped ears, Pascale has the overall look of a classic, European Doberman. Despite the fact of course, these elements are not natural, and as a newborn his tail was rather brutally chopped off, and his ears mutilated so that they stand up on their ends, and make him look more... ferocious. He's tan and black, being around ninety five pounds, and standing at the slightly above average height of seventy five centimeters, or thirty inches. Along with that, he will usually always be found dressed with a collar; leather for 'home' life, and a chain for combat.

~ Personality ~

Pascale has been brought up in a controlled manner - a manner that taught him to take a grip on his rage, and enforce it when necessary, but also to withhold it, and not act upon it in a powerful sense of humane self control. He's an especially clever beast, with a focused attitude, but a tendency to have a certain... mind of his own, at times. He is a character and a half, with the full ability to carry out orders, along as said orders aren't completely idiotic. If they are, he can (at times) refuse to cooperate, unless there is a life at stake. He can at times become rather moody when he is not on duty; displaying a wide array of death glares, grumbles under his breath with sharp sounds, and also being rather rude at times, by purposefully tripping you up, or spilling his meal across the floor, towards his owners, all the while staring at you with those accusingly dark eyes. Owners is plural, yes, but Pascale only has, and only will ever have a single Master, whether or not that Master dies or not, isn't part of the picture.

~ Likings ~

Pascale does adore to work; he's in his prime at his young age, where his abilities are at their height. His senses, his fitness, his energy are all bundled together in such a way that drives him - not exactly to please, or feel accomplished, but more so in a way that he feels is embedded deeply in his roots. His specie was created to guard, and over the years were used in multiple levels of law enforcement. His job is his life, and other lives, depend on his job. As well as that, he loves fish, and a rare treat of sliced fruit.

~ Dislikings ~

He has a strong hatred for beings whom... look down on him. An animal, yes, but Pascale isn't thick, and frankly, demands respect. He can tell which humans think of him as nothing more than a hound, and, if he wasn't kept on such a tight leash around them, he would most definitely tear their voice-boxes out, so they may never voice their opinions about him again. Also, not that he doesn't like them, but children immensely confuse him; they're like smaller, halfbreeds of the people he has been surrounded by his entire life. Halfbreeds, that always seem to run away from him.

~ Background ~

Pascale was the only puppy who, for some reason, survived in his litter. Complications in birth, they suppose. He was born to a mother and father whom had been developed, bred, and experimented with for generations, in order to create the perfect 'war dog'; his future was planned before he was even conceived. As aforementioned, he was given his name due to being born on Easter Sunday, and some of the French Soldiers, along with handlers, liked to joke he was a Gift from God. Spending most of his life with obedience and moderated violence being impulsed into him, Pascale has fulfilled the nations wish for the ultimate war dog.

Stats; high in all areas, of course because of his sire and dam, but also due to his intense training.

Agility ~ 9.
Strength ~ 8.
Stealth ~ 8.
Intelligence ~ 10.