jester | nemilest.

I am a wonderful specimen of my breed. Due to the fact that I was born before the humans all died out, my ears and tail have been docked. I am aware that there was some controversy among humans as to whether or not this process was humane. While I can't speak for every Doberman, I am quite fond of my ears and tail. I feel like I wouldn't look like a pure Doberman had the procedures not occurred when I was a pup. I am sad that my pups will not get to look the way that I do, but I know they will make up for it. *

As far as my build goes, it is much like every other pure specimen of my breed. I have long legs, and a strong, compact torso. I am thickly muscled, due to the fact that I have worked my whole life. I stand at twenty-six inches tall, and at a healthy weight I am around ninety pounds. I am a bit shorter than other males of my breed, but my muscles and strength make up for that. Not to mention that I am not really "small" by any standards. As far as coloration goes, I am black. The vast majority of my body is black, though I have standard tan marks on my chest and legs.

My face is thin, my snout is long, and my eyes rest further up my head. Basically, I have the face of any other Doberman. My face matches my body in coloration, being mostly black with tan above my eyes and around my snout. My eyes are brown.

* Jester's beliefs do not necessarily match my own.

THE GOOD: Ambitious, Calm, Careful, Charismatic, Diplomatic, Fearless, Intelligent, Loyal, Patient, Quick-Witted.

Ambitious - Some might say ambition is a bad thing, at least the amount of ambition that Jester has, but I would say they are wrong. While Jester is willing lie, steal, kill, and cheat his way to the top, his ambition is what drives him and it is most of who he is. Not to mention, it started from a good source.

Calm - Jester isn't a dog that you can piss off easily. In fact, it is hard to make him angry at all. He is a well trained soldier, and he doesn't let anything get in the way of his goals.. Especially not useless emotions like anger.

Careful - Jester is careful about everything. He is careful about what he says, what he does, even what he thinks. He is careful to push his boundaries, but not push them too hard. He thinks everything over before he does it.

Charismatic - With his other traits, this one probably isn't surprising. Jester is a good talker, good at getting his way through words. He is well versed in the art of planting ideas in others' heads. After all, it is best to make them think your idea is theirs anyway.

Diplomatic - A bit shocking, considering who he is, but Jester likes to talk. He likes to try and work things out through bartering and compromise before he jumps straight into killing someone.. Unless he has been ordered otherwise.

Fearless - Jester isn't really afraid of anything. He isn't afraid of pain, he's felt it all. He isn't afraid of losing, he knows how to pick himself back up. He isn't afraid of dying, he'll greet the devil like an old friend.

Intelligent - Jester is one smart boy. He can figure his way out of traps and hard situations fairly easily. He is also good at planning and strategics.

Loyal - Jester is less loyal to other beings and groups, and more loyal to ideas. Despite this, however, he does sometimes pick out someone to be loyal to. When he does, his loyalty is unwavering. Jester has always been, and always will be a soldier at heart.

Patient - There's no need to get your panties in a knot, Jester knows this well. He is patient in every aspect of his life, from romantic pursuits to his larger goals. Impatience only muddles the mind, after all.

Quick-Witted - Along with his intelligence, Jester is very quick-witted. Not only can he plan, he can also make smart decisions in a pinch or quickly.

THE BAD: Arrogant, Cruel, Cunning, Cynical, Deceitful, Greedy, Inflexible, Overcritical, Perverse, Sadistic.

Arrogant - Jester knows that he is smart, cunning, good looking, and an excellent fighter.. Why wouldn't he be arrogant? He has trouble concealing his arrogance from time to time, but most of the time he can keep it under wraps.

Cruel - Jester enjoys a good battle, he enjoys dragging it out and hitting all of the places he knows it'll hurt most. Whether he is ripping entrails or telling his opponent their father will never love them, he is having a good time.

Cunning - Remember how we said Jester would lie, steal, cheat, and kill to get to the top? Well, he is rather good at it, and this equates in him being quite cunning.

Cynical - Basically, Jester believes no dog to be better than he is. He thinks that everyone is willing to do whatever they want to get forward, and live. His cynical views are a form of self-justification.

Deceitful - If Jester didn't know how to lie, he would have never gotten this far in life. Whether he is convincing a pack-mate that he has their back, or convincing a girl that he'll be there when she wakes up, Jester loves telling a good lie and getting away with it. He also hides who he really is under a vise of a dog who is hurting about his past.

Greedy - Jester wants more than his fair share. Whether he is taking high positions, or more food than he really needs, Jester is always displaying his greedy nature.

Inflexible - Even though Jester is diplomatic, he is more diplomatic on the basis of lying. Even though he says he'll live up to his end of the bargain, most of the time its only after you have lived up to yours. Jester refuses to change or believe that he wrong or in the wrong.

Overcritical - Jester can easily find fault in the most perfect things. Whether its a female or an action, he is always looking for something to criticize. He also turns his overcritical nature inward, berating himself for the smallest mistakes.

Perverse - Jester isn't a good guy, okay? He enjoys doing things that he knows will sicken others, especially when he will never see them again. In some small way, it is how he admits he is wrong. Seeing the disgust on their faces assures him that he is still, and always will be, a monster.

Sadistic - Ah, Jester lives for causing pain. He adores it, he loves it. It is the only thing left in his life that gives him joy, the only thing that can make him laugh or smile.

BEFORE CONCEPTION - My very life, my entire life, every part of it, including my conception and birth, were geared toward a purpose, a point. My parents were bred because my father was a champion of his breed, a retired police dog, and his genes were needed to be passed on. My mother could boast no victories in battle, but her bloodlines could be tracked back hundreds of years. Whether there was any love between my parents is not my concern, nor do I have any idea. Did it really matter? When it came time, my mother gave birth to two pups. Both male, one black and one red. The black one, me, was given the name of Jester. The red one, my brother, was given the name of Joker. My father, King, and my mother, Duchess were both very proud of us. We were born healthy, with no physical ailments or limitations.

PUPPY-HOOD - Ah, yes, most dogs can boast about how happy and wonderful and fun their puppy days were. Mine were, too, for a time. While I was still very small, still suckling on my mother, I was allowed to relax and play. My brother and I play fought all the time, always there was a contest between the two of us. Typically, back in those days, he won. He was the larger pup, and I had yet to learn how to use my brains to my advantage. Even then, there was a glimmer of who I am now. How I would bite down a little too hard, or trip him up, or even when I would bar access to our mothers teats while she slept. Yes, I was myself even as a pup, though not quite as harsh yet. I still had innocence, I had hope. And though I would get angry with my brother, and my greedy nature would show, I loved my family. Love. I can barely remember how that used to feel.

But soon my brother and I were growing less clumsy, and we were getting bigger by the day. It was then that our father started to have more to do with us, to make a real presence in our lives. He was not at all disappointed in my size, because he could see the intelligence glowing in my eyes. I looked up to him, I respected my father so much. He was big like my brother, but he was black like me. He was missing an eye, and scars littered his face. He walked with a limp. The last criminal he caught had ensured that, the reason he retired. I knew he was bitter about it, but he never took it out on my brother and I. He sized us up, figured out our strengths and weaknesses. In those days, when we were really too young to fight effectively, he taught us our strengths and weaknesses, and ways to overcome or take advantage of them.

Soon enough, the humans started training us. We were still young, but not so young that we needed milk anymore. We were barely weaned when they began our training, though we were never mistreated or pushed too far. The humans really seemed to care about us, and I developed a very special bond with the one who worked with me the most. I could tell my brother had bonded with his trainer as well. Father said we would be working with these men the rest of our lives, and that bonds were essential. Neither of us were a disappointment to the humans, but I could tell that I was slightly preferred. Though my brother was big and strong, he wasn't as smart as me. I could figure out what the humans wanted and do it much faster than he could. Apparently this was a very desirable trait.

ADOLESCENCE - Not a lot can really be said about this period in my life. I still wasn't old enough to go out with my master, but my training did intensify. Physical challenges were now placed before me, since I had mastered most of the basic commands. I was taught where on a human to bite, the location differing depending on the noise that left my master's mouth. It took my brother a very long time to figure this out, and I helped him as much as I could. He had trouble differentiating the humans sounds, but with my help he learned quickly enough. Our father was very proud of us, and came to watch our training often. It was his old master that had bought our mother and ensured our birth. His master was an older man, and the other humans seemed to listen to him. His master didn't go out on missions anymore, but stayed in the office with father.

It was during this time in my life that I would learn of loss, however. My mother passed away giving birth to her second litter. She was a very small thing, the litter was large. None of the pups survived, and she was buried in the back yard. I could tell that my father and his master were upset over her passing, and I was too. My family grieved together, and my father's master never did bring in a new female.

Adulthood - I never will forget my second birthday. I was grown, then. I was fit, well muscled, and well trained. My brother was too, perhaps even more well trained than myself. We were separated then, though. I went to live with my master, and he with his. We saw each other at the station, along with our father, but our bonds were growing thinner and thinner by the day. I went out with my master all the time, following his every order and command. I was very close with my master and his family. He had a mate, and three pups. The pups were cute, they were nice. Sure, they got annoying sometimes, but they were part of my pack and it was my duty to protect them. They often came in the back yard to play with me, the eldest one throwing a ball and squealing in delight whenever I would bring it back. These were, perhaps, the happiest days of my life.

But happiness never lasts, thanks to dogs -and even humans- like myself. It was a typical day. My master and I were heading back to the station, the day had been quiet. No chases, no criminals, just patrolling the city. However, the buzzing of his radio thing alerted me to the fact that that was about to change. The sirens sounded, the lights started flashing, and I shifted a little in my seat. Things were about to get interesting. The car whirled around, speeding down the road, until we finally reached our destination.

My master let me out and uttered a single command, "Stay." I hated that command, but I knew better than to disobey. I planted my rump next to the car, my ears pricked as he walked down the path leading to the door of the house. His hand was on his gun, his posture tense and nervous. I knew that things were bad if he felt this way. I felt my own muscles go tense, my instincts screaming at me to follow him, to protect him. But I fought against them, because he had given me my order, and to disobey him would be the worst thing I could do. He knocked at the door, a human came out screaming and raving. The other human was followed by more, and a couple of dogs. Bully breeds, mixes from the looks of them. My ears lowered, and my lips pulled back in a snarl. The other humans were screaming now, my master was speaking with them, trying to calm them. But then one of them hit him.

It took everything in me to stay where I was, but soon enough he gave the command, I was free to help. I tore down the path, latching myself on to the arm of one of the humans, biting down hard and tearing. I had not been given the command to kill, only to protect. I was tackled by all three of the dogs, my master was attacked by all of the humans. I could hear the sirens, and I knew backup was on the way. I fought with all of my might, forgetting myself as the other dogs tore into me. I thought quickly, using my speed and superior training to my advantage. I was soon latched on to the throat of the smallest dog, ripping at it savagely. Its whimpers and cries only urged me on, and soon it was laying lifeless beneath me. The other two were looking wary, backing up. I heard the other cars pull up, but before I was aware of anything else, my world went dark.

When I awoke, I was in a dank cage. My muscles were stiff and sore, and the back of my head was throbbing painfully. My stomach growled loudly, my throat screamed for moisture. The cage was so small, I could barely stand up. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I realized that my cage was not the only one in the room. To my left, a large Pit Bull slumbered, and to my right a Rottweiler was staring back at me. She was a pitiful thing, scaring and shivering, her eyes wide with terror. Somewhere deep inside me, something stirred, and I realized that she reminded me of my mother. "Are you okay?" The room suddenly seemed to grow very quiet, and every gaze was on me. However, I was better than all of these dogs, so my pelt burned with nothing but irritation. The female shook her head slowly, seemingly amazed by my speaking capabilities. "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." Why was I lying to her? I didn't know. Her brown gaze softened a bit, and she moved closer to the bars that separated our cages. I wiggled over to her, pressing my side against hers. She sighed, relaxing, and fell asleep.

My days in the cage drove me mad, I think. I was given barely enough to keep me alive, and the wound on the back of my head healed slowly. The muscles that had been hard my whole life were starting to melt away, and my pelt was dull. The female next to me was wasting away more quickly, and I knew she only had very little time left. She had never spoken a word. The Pit Bull, or perhaps I should say American Pit Bull Terrier, was doing better. He had been heavily muscled like myself, so he was in a similar state. I soon learned that his name was Queen (odd, I know), and he had been stolen while he was out looking for females. Days turned into weeks, and soon only myself, Queen, and two other dogs were left alive. The Rottweiler, I started to call her Spade, passed away several days before the humans finally let us out. But nothing inside me twisted at her passing. Weeks of starvation in a dark room had made me cold.

One of the dogs, foolish as she was, tried to attack the humans. They shot and killed her without a second thought. That left myself, Queen, and an American Bulldog who I did not know. The humans approached us cautiously, and the Bulldog bit at the hand of one of them. He was the next to go. Queen and I allowed them to pet us, I could tell that Queen was following my lead. The humans seemed pleased, and left us our first sufficient meal since our arrival. They also left us out of the cages. We gained our weight back quickly with regular feedings, and soon the humans had moved us up into the house. They started training us, pitting us against each other. In the end, I was forced to kill Queen. It was either him or me, and it definitely was not going to be me. The humans fought me regularly, and while I didn't win all the time, I won enough to keep them pleased. I grew to love killing other dogs. Maybe it was because they rewarded me every time I did, or maybe it was because it had been there all along, and I had never allowed it to manifest. But it was there now, and it wasn't going away.

Things started getting bad for the humans around my fifth birthday. By the time I was six, the ones who had stolen me didn't come back at all. I was able to escape the house, but I did not seek out my old master. Tainted and disturbed as I was now, I would be of no use to him. I soon ran into my brother, however. In fact, I almost killed him before I realized who he was. Stupid great brute forgave me for attacking him on the spot, and told me about how bad things were now. Apparently his master had ran away, abandoning him. The police weren't doing anything anymore. Father had died a couple of years back, shortly after his master. I stayed with my brother that day, waiting until he went to sleep before leaving him. His soul was still pure, and I wanted it to stay that way.

Soon enough, there were no humans left at all. Packs sprang up around the city, and I knew that I wanted to be at the head of one. They all seemed to have leaders, but I could work my way up regardless. Xarthen would never do, filthy wolves. Rhazorn only wanted females. Cesavias were a bunch of passive air-heads.. That really only left Nemilest, whose bloodthirsty ways suited me just fine.