For Isaac, the war began a bit differently.

He wasn't one of the many who flocked to the enlistment centers, and he wasn't marked as a coward for wanting to remain behind, either.  It was a funny thing, but he always figured he wasn't going to go to war, because he provided a necessary resource to the Federation.  Three things, actually, because his family ran a farm.  They'd poked fun when his family had originally bought this land, not far from the city, but enough that you'd have level grounds of dirt and grass and such.  Oh, it was [i]dirt cheap[/i], and they'd laughed when they started calling it the Black Lands, a plot of land unfit for growing much, 'cept maybe some potatoes, if that.  But then, the smiles changed hands as the only 'crop' that was brought out there was livestock.  Not even milk cows, who required more grass than other varieties to make milk.  Walking slabs of beef and leather is what the Blacks raised.  Not just that, but mutton and wool.  Yeah, that's right.  The food on your plate and the clothes on your back, courtesy of the Black family, at least if you were in central Edinburgh.

So, you had those two resources, but there was a third, and here is where Isaac comes in.  This family learns the way of animals, every last member, including if you married into the family.  The farm has to keep going, no question about it.  Some are better than others, and some have that certain something that puts them along the lines of the third important resource of the Blacks: Dogs.  Dog-breeding has been around for centuries, ever since the first wolf approached a man hungry and that man fed him.  But in order to get MORE dogs with fresh blood in the breed, you have to start from scratch.  You have to have wolves, [i]and[/i] you have to have someone in the family who's empathetic enough to the wolves that they can be on each other's wavelength, like radios.  Isaac spent his young years to his current years becoming the alpha to a band of wolf pups, hybrid wolf-dogs that were a part of the more dangerous issue of finding a wolf willing to mate with a dog, like a husky.

Thus, the third resource is dogs, and Isaac was responsible for raising at least a couple generations from a young age to present, and then he had to take them to a buyer.  They arrived not far from an army recruiter and his men, where he [i]easily[/i] escorted his pack right in front of them, like it was nothing, and then...once he was out...hoo boy.  The man was simply impressed with his work, so much so that he insisted that he have his name on the list.  Isaac explained that providing what his family did was just as important as fighting the war, maybe more so.  The recruiter did not agree.  In fact, he disagreed with the help of two armed men, stating that the army will benefit from a man of his caliber, and that was final.  So, Isaac was drafted, and he wasn't given any recourse, as he would otherwise be labeled as a traitor and probably shot, which he'd rather not have on his family's conscience...or his head.

Training found him quiet, angry, and driven to freak out the sergeant with his actions, seemingly too vicious to be allowed anywhere [i]near[/i] a weapon.  No dice.  It was as he feared.  His skills really [i]were[/i] suitable for the front lines.  He became a gunner, armed with a lead-spewing machine of death and a kind of blade they made for punching and stabbing foes in confined spaces, namely the trenches.  He'd had to drill in mock trenches, actually did very well.  He didn't like that fact, though.  More and more, Isaac felt he was being distanced from his family, maybe distanced from that which was human, but one thing that he did notice was that these squads were reminding him alot of his work back on the farm.  These people might die without him.  Maybe not these ones specifically, because they randomized the units, but others.  Dammit, just when he felt like he should really buck the system...he discovers a good reason for why she should not.

Time passed, and Isaac mellowed out, though he was always disapproving of those in authority throwing their weight around for the wrong reasons.  Ultimately, he found himself more beholden to the orders of the war - Kill the enemy while still keeping your men alive - than those a little closer to home.  This led to some rather interesting developments when he received his commission and found out that his rank wasn't private, but lance-corporal.  He almost asked the sergeant why he didn't just get HIS job, but that would've been a punch in the face and a night in the stockade, if he [i]had[/i] said that.  So, naturally, he had to of course get going.  Isaac didn't relish this.  He didn't want this war forced down his throat.  If anything, he was going to shove it in somebody else's face and make [i]them[/i] pay for it.  Just get through this with as many people alive as you can, and then you win.  Simple, right?  Hah.

And so, with murderous thoughts for the bugler the morning he was at his assigned location, Isaac got up to fall into form.  No, he didn't have any trouble getting up.  He'd worked at a farm, after all, and wolves only sleep maybe a few hours a day, so he had to get up at some strange hours then, too.  No, it was just that racket, that's all.  What a pain in the ass.  Speaking of which, introducing Lieutenant Middleton!  This guy was of a similar class of twit and arsehole that that recruiter was.  Isaac already didn't like him, and it seemed like he and the other Lances were all being made his accomplices to his bad temper and callous behavior.  Gets worse when he started muttering about the Darcsen next to him, saying 'Charpentier' was a weird name.  Come on, Lieutenant!  It's just 'Carpenter' with a bit of flair!

Anyway, Middleton had gone off, allowing the recruits and all speak as they will.  Isaac noticed the Darcsen boy just standing there, scribbling some notes.  He wasn't sure what it was, but he managed a quick chuckle as he spoke to the guy while looking over the others here.

[color=f7941d]"We're in for alot of work if we have to follow [i]that[/i] into battle."[/color]

He now turned to the Darcsen, really not caring that he [i]was[/i] a Darcsen.  Really, Isaac couldn't even remember what people had [i]against[/i] the Darcsens.  For his own part, the young man extended a hand.

[color=f7941d]"Isaac Black.  I guess [i]Lance-Corporal[/i] Black really, but that's not what I'm here for.  I'm here to keep people alive.  How about you?"[/color]

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