I hope i wasn't too late.

Name:Doctor Otto Schmidt. 
Nickname:Old Otto for the youth, the Beast of Verdun for those who are a little older.
Age:Over a century, give or take.
Family:Wolf - Independent.
Bio: Otto was born as a cub of a pack of werewolves whose home grounds used to be in the Black Forest. His father, a rather oddly prudent and well-thought Alpha, had crafted human identities as hunters, woodsmen and farmers for the whole pack. It perhaps, worked a little too well, because alongside several youths, Otto was conscripted into the Great War. Far from feeling dread, the youths were initially overjoyed, as the madness of war allowed to unleash their inner beasts to prey on the lesser men like the good old times. Otto particulary enjoyed that due to his werewolf senses and hunting habits he was accepted for sniper training. Never the thrill of the hunt felt so overpowering, for as a man he could take lives from impossible distances, and as a beast he could rampage during the trenches in the dead of the night. Or so he thought, until [i]Verdun[/i].

Werewolves were durable. But even their might would not last under the rains of hot shrapnel, chemical warfare and explosives. One by one, the members of his pack died. Not because of silver weapons. Not because they had lost a fight. They were simply blown apart, without a chance to use their wolf might. Only Otto survived, and endured. He eventually began to adapt and turn the tide into his favour. However... he was far from the only one. Tales of not one, but two Beasts of Verdun scoured the battlefield.

He was french. A member of some pack of the Alps. They kept harassing eachother until a climatic struggle in no man's land. A primal melee, while the sounds of mortars splattered the mud around both monsters in a battlefield bathed by the full moon. Machinegun fire muted the growls of an struggle worth of two Alphas. By sheer luck... Otto gained the upper hand. Yet as he was about to strike his opponent down by biting his neck and exanguinating him, something inside cried. He couldn't do it. There had been far too madness already.

Verdun was a big loss to his country. But he came back alive to his home and pack. For his efforts and deeds, he was granted the status of Beta, right under his father's command. Yet... there was little time for rest and rebuild. In the middle of the crisis something ugly brewed. A collective and gruesome country-wide delirium fueled by the words of a madman. And once again, war. Otto, torn between his duty to his family and his personal belief on the rotten nature of Nazis, rejoined the fray in order for the hostigated pack to have some reprieve. 

He was deployed in [i]Stalingrad.[/i] He never thought that he would see something surpass Verdun in his memories. But the Battle of Stalingrad certainly did so. There were entire packs of werewolves lurking amidst the Red Army. Aggressive Syberian werewolves, bigger and meaner than anything he had seen so far. As well as old vampires, who had turned the Tsarist aristocracy clothes for the uniforms of commisars. He could only count the ammunition left and his wits as the only weapons he could use to stall the inevitable. Yet as he resigned to his fate, bound in silver chains as a trophy to be transported to a prisoner camp, something outrageous happened.

He was freed. Someone had put a word for him, someone whose name and fame had swayed the beasts of the red army. The [i]other[/i] Beast of Verdun. Otto smiled at the irony, and decided to turn a new leaf for good. After the war, he studied the art of mending bodies, the medicine, as a penance of all the lives he had taken. He struck a friendship with his french counterpart, Marc Noir, who had become a history teacher.

After moving to San Francisco after accepting a job as doctor, however, Marc expressed his concerns that one of his daughters had disappeared. Otto simply decided that it was his turn to repay the favor...

Personality: Otto is usually a demure and pensive man, having seen enough battle to have satisfied his lust thrice over. He tends to examine things before doing anything and thinks before leaping. He sees violence as the absolute last resort a man can make, and likes to solve things peacefully. However... when the time comes for him to fight back, he does not hit softly. He knows that in true battle and in the madness of combat, the nastiest, most throughout foe triumphs and he will use any method to his disposal to make a foe's enemy life miserable (and being a veteran of the Great War, a doctor and a werewolf, his methods are many). Otto however, is self admittedly clumsy with the feminine gender, and he tends to stutter when embarassed.

Appearance:[img]https://thumb1.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/1099271/342350837/stock-photo-man-wearing-a-leather-jacket-342350837.jpg[/img] 
(Note, the glasses are just an accessory. He has superhuman senses).
Special Power: Canid Talk: Otto can comunicate with canids as if they were people. He can coerce them to do things, but he can't really control them. Besides, dogs tend to be a little stupid. Still an useful information network, though.
Other: Don't call him a Nazi. He'll flip out.