Name: Otto Zimmerich

Nickname(s): The Teuton, The Butcher of Drywell

Age: 34

Years of Service: 16 years

Weapons/Equipment: Otto's main weapon is a model 1876 Winchester lever-action rifle, of a matte black finish. For executions, or close quarters gun battles, he uses his fathers guns, two long-barreled Colt Single Action .45 revolvers with a similar black finish. For rare occasions, he possesses a Zweihander sword, a great two handed weapon as tall as he stands. Of course, this sword is rather unwieldy, and is often carried for dramatic effect or executions of extreme severity.

The only other items of note are a engraved container of consecrated earth, a winged plate helmet, a leather bound copy of The Book of LIfe, and a coat of chain mail

Appearance: Otto is everything most Americans would imagine a German looks like. Solidly built, with a square jaw, harsh cheekbones, and cold blue eyes. His close-cropped, dirty blonde hair is beginning to gray at the edges prematurely, but his face retains a harsh but youthful countenance.

For clothes, Otto typically wears simple, bland clothes, over sturdy leather boots. His coat is collarless--more like a robe than anything else--and brilliant white, a symbol of the Faith in contrasting black running the length and width of the back. Upon his left breast is a a patch representing his old family coat-of-arms: A bear rampant upon a field of red, bisected by dark green.

Personality: As an adventurous youth, Otto took to the Faith like a man whose thirst could not be quenched. His judgement was swift, and the penalties harsh. That was years ago.

Many Dogs find themselves at a moral crossroads as the glow of their divine purpose begins to fade, and some become withdrawn. Like some others in his line of work, a darkness has grown in the pit of his soul, but its effect on his personality have had the opposite effect. As a young man, Otto was all fire and brimstone, with little time for humor or anecdotes. As the darkness grows, and his cynicism comes to encompass more and more of his life, he seeks to open himself up more to those around him. It is almost as if companionship will help keep his growing doubts (and guilt) at bay. The support and presence of other Dogs helps him fulfill his duties with the exacting finality it requires.

To those around him, he occasionally doles out cynical witticisms and grim humor. He is open to conversation, and more than willing to impart advice to younger Dogs. There are times though, where that advice borders on gloomy to plain nihilistic as he often times gets caught up in his internal struggle.

Otto speaks perfect english, with only a trace of Germanic accent, and in tough situations may blurt out something in "the old tongue"--German.

History: Otto Zimmerich was born the son of poor German immigrants in Boston. From birth, he was raised in a harsh, almost Prussian household that was made to instill strict discipline and an unshakeable belief in god.

However, much of his childhood was spent hearing the old Germanic folktales of Wagnerian splendor. These tales--told by his father in awed tones when the man would get drunk at night--did more to shape the rest of his life than any beating or church service. In his early teens, he faced the harsh prospect, and dim outlook of a life working a fishing trawler with his father to eke out an existence.

Unwilling to resign himself to such a life, he stole a horse and his father's revolvers and rode west, away from a miserable life and the authorities. Filled with a need for adventure, and drunk on the stories his father had told him, he was determined to find a life of excitement. And ever west he rode, following the tales and wonder people told about the frontier.

It was a miracle the boy ever made it. Often on his own, he evaded death numerous times on his journey. One night, he was ambushed by a bear in the wilderness. Though the bear died in a torrent of gunfire, the boy was badly mauled and bleeding out. While unconscious, a traveler stumbled upon him. Many days later, the boy woke up, finding his wounds almost completely healed. And he found himself in a wonderful city.

Otto would come to find out that this place was called--rather fittingly--New Life, and the man who had rescued him, a Watchdog. Dazzled by his surroundings, and taking his miraculous survival and subsequent healing as a miracle of God, he had finally found his place.

In his youth, he took to The Faith with an enthusiasm tempered with Prussian resolve. The man who had rescued him did so because he recognized potential in that bullet riddled bear corpse. And he was right. With training, Otto became a weapon of divine fury. German mettle met zealous belief, and he remade himself as a modern Teutonic Knight.

Years have passed though, and the blinding brilliance of fanaticism has become tarnished by growing cynicism at the duty he has to perform. Still, he carries it out. But each pull of the trigger is a fraction of a second longer, decisions a moment longer to make, and each execution another secretly downed shot of fire water.

There are times, in his growing cynicism, that he wonders if his duty is a sin so great that no judgment on this earthly plane will atone for it. In other times he wonders if God really intended man to carry out judgment on his behalf. But Otto is good at what he does, and it's partly that knowledge that helps him to continue meting out punishment and purity across the land.

His nickname, "The Teuton" was coined by the townspeople of Drywell, after he notoriously judged and executed six townspeople in one morning--or as one man put it, "Just in time for lunch."--for crimes ranging from prostitution to taking the Lord's name in vain. Records kept by the Territorial Authority about the incident include an eyewitness report;

"There was a mist in the morning, and much of the town was already filled with townsfolk going about their business. We all noticed a figure upon a horse, shadowed by the veil cast by the damp morning. Wings sprouted from his head, and those Faithful among us could have sworn an angel had ascended from heaven. From that obscuring white cloud we could hear him quoting scripture from The Book in an unbreakable voice that burned with the fire of conviction.

As the figure came closer, the mists parted, and we beheld a Knight from days of old. We knew immediately that the man was a Watchdog, come to punish the unfaithful. He needn't question anyone, for those with the fear of sin in their hearts, the ran. The first, Maggie Jameson was a prostitute. A nice enough lady, and a single mother of two babies. He had a pistol to her head, and told her that she need but repent earnestly, and embrace a life of devotion and moral living. We noticed he had a peculiar way of pronouncing certain words, like old Schultz who owned the mill outside of town. I think Maggie was too scared to repent. Us Faithful--we liked her, nice for a sinner--urged her to repent, but she could only open and close her mouth like a fish out of water.

Satisfied, he shot her without further comment. A man in the crowd, who was only passing through the territory, took the Lord's name in vain in his astonishment, and the Watchdog swiftly rendered judgement on him..."