[center][h1][color=f7941d][b]ISAAC BLACK[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

It was always a 'drew the short straw' kind of job to do, but Isaac had made it manageable, at least.

You'd accurately describe Plymouth Lane as miles and miles of miles and miles.  It was a long stretch of nothing but long stretches and sharp turns.  There was nothing of importance in it that couldn't be situated anywhere else, because what it was...was nothing but a big, BIG hole in the ground, one that stretched all the damn place.  Plymouth Lane was a hole and everybody standing, sitting, or lying in it was in the shit.  Worse, it was [i]cold[/i] shit.  You huddle for warmth in [i]this[/i] place, you'd better have either someone to do it with, or aome means of keeping your body heat in and the cold wet out.  The winter gear that allowed you enough padding to keep the cold out was alright if you were moving around or out of the path of wind if you're stopped, but sometimes you had to warm up your hands, despite any leather gloves.  And let's be perfectly clear, when they had a shortage of gloves because of a failed delivery, they were singing Isaac's praises when he managed to hunt down some local leather at Trebin, helped tan it himself, and brought it in for people in need.

Still, on the subject of keeping warm, he had two disctinct advantages.  One was making the rounds elsewhere, and one was actually at his side.  We're talking warm bodies here, those who were comfortable around him.  No amount of livestock farmer resourcefulness would beat the fact that he had two others to make this soggy existence in the trenches bearable.  It made him feel bad for others, having the attentions of not only a kind and attractive Gunner, but having a dedicated wolf-dog for these things.  Not to say that either of them was always available.  Britta Hagen was a capable soldier, and thus in as much demand for her capabilities as him, routinely on patrol and not always in the same place as him because you spread out your machine guns unless otherwise needed.  Equally, Rikes - the Appenine wolf-hybrid in question - was currently at his side, but that was due to the fact that he was highly-useable in this particular assignment and not currently carrying messages around.  As a messanger dog, he was trained to follow the orders, gestures, and whistles of any soldier who needed his four legs on the job, and thus could disappear at a moment's notice.  He was with Isaac [i]now[/i] for his nose and his ears, to make extra certain of things in this area, which was the walk-up into the Dummy Trenches.

The Observation Posts, the Assault Trenches, and the Dummy Trenches were the most-forward points of Plymouth Lane.  The OP kept an eye out for trouble and to see if it was safe to use the AT, and the DT was there to make it seem like there was a manned trench to worry about getting machine gunned or rifled from...or for Imperial Soldiers to think 'Maybe if we approach silently and [i]away[/i] from where they seem to be observing, we can mount a sneak attack.', but that wasn't likely for several reasons.  The first, of course, is that part of the point of the Dummy Trenches was that it looked manned, using cloth dummies dressed like soldiers manning their posts and watching No Man's Land.  You couldn't tell from afar.  Second, even if you were daring enough to crawl all the way there, it could be the random-ass day that Command decided to man the Dummy Trench and dummy up the Assault Trench, leaving you in a REALLY bad position.  There was [i]always[/i] someone watching the pathway out of there, and it was usually a Gunner, which meant that [i]that[/i] long stretch got to be known as Dead Man's Alley.  People often tried to sneak into another man's trench in this war.  The result was usually bullets fired, trench knives stabbed, and alot of clean-up afterward.  This brings us to the short-straw job that Isaac was on, and the fourth reason that nipping into the Dummy Trench was a bad idea: It was patrolled by men and women like him to sort out the filth.

So, on the walk-up, here's Isaac Black with a wolf-dog at his side, quietly whistling [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVM-tFAdADg]A Long Way to Tyrella[/url] to himself, backed up by three other men of different background and role in this war, prepared to end the career of any Imps in their trenches.  Whistling did stop as they neared the actual forward trench area, care taken even at the corners of the walk-up, and now...they move along the Dummy Trench, prepared to open fire on any human being that dares show itself in the wrong color uniform.  Rikes was absolutely quiet, which...was a good thing.  After some minutes of this, the four men and a dog concluded that it was safe and secure at this time.  And now, the bit that they'd been waiting for, the part that made this odious task somewhat more bearable: Isaac pulled out a deck of cards.

[color=f7941d]"Okay, guys.  We have some time here.  As usual, deuces and jokers are wild, and everyone here may pet the dog while we play.  He won't mind, but I will say that-"[/color]

[color=a0410d][i][b]"-CHOO!"[/b][/i][/color]

[color=f7941d]"-he [i]does[/i] seem to have a cold.  And remember, all winnings taken by me that I don't need will be buyable through the Isaac Store.  I need things, you need things, so let's all help each other."[/color]


[center][h1][i][b][color=ed1c24]Britta Hagen[/color][/b][/i][/h1][/center]

The Isaac Store was not Isaac's idea.  Not by a long shot.

He was a good man, looking after those Enlisted or Conscripted as the alpha of a bunch of wolves or the bull of a rather large herd, but Isaac was only being generous, while he could've also been [i]clever[/i] and maximized his efforts to really help out others.  If he was serious about it, and he was, he would work to a plan that would develop into a system, and that system would exist within the army trenches to help everyone when the supplies weren't working out or something went wrong.  And quite often, something would indeed go wrong.  It was after the gloves fiasco, where Isaac went out of his way to get leather to tan and cut and make the gloves himself...that Britta got the idea.  Other people needed their lives to continue to make money, and he had often grumbled about how he was taken from his essential work of providing via his farm to be in this army, so the silver-haired Gunner made a suggestion: Open a business.

Not a [i]real[/i] business, for profit.  A trading business that everyone could benefit from so that things were spread out to those who need and not simply the privileged who get the quartermaster to pulled some strings to get some things.  They needed someone who could not be [i]bought[/i], per se, and that was Isaac.  He worked to the benefit of others, not chiefly his own gains, and that was perfect.  They needed someone who could manage all of this and keep track of the business of it being an actual sort of [i]business[/i], and that was where Britta came in.  She regularly checked up on people around the trenches, asked to go this way and that and 'Would you mind poking up at the AT for a while?'.  The two of them managed to spread out through word-of-mouth that they were doing this, and that they'd also see about getting the quartermaster to pitch in more.  Rather amusingly, Isaac had even starting leasing out Rikes via sending messages to people who had 'bought' use of him, so they had the companionship of something kinder than their commanding officer.

All of this, apart from being a really good idea, had the additional effect of being something of a morale boost for them all.  This war had taken its toll on alot of people.  She believed that this war needed to be fought, had volunteered to see the job through herself, but she couldn't help but worry for those who were not mentally prepared, and for those whom had been effectively stepped and spat on by their situations within it.  By improving conditions for all, they were improving conditions for those who needed it most.  Everyone partaking in the Isaac Store knew that all things come around, that this was for their benefit, and it only works of they work with it.  Otherwise, it's just dozens of them huddled in these dirt-and-mud trenches, overthinking their lives with nothing much to break it up.  Isaac involved poker to give people something to do, Britta sat and talked and heard people for what bothered them most to keep their thoughts in line...and to make sure hers wouldn't go out of control.  She hated overthinking things, but boy did she have a talent for it!  That was the other reason for this.  The more that she was involved in something positive, the less she had to dwell on the things that couldn't change.

Oh, and to be clear, they stated right out that what didn't do any harm need not be made mention to Commanding Officers, especially the ones who might try and make an example of them because of all the wheeling and dealing and trading that went on under their noses, anyhow.  Britta was prepared to defend it to the hilt, if it came to it, as was Isaac.  Common decency and some semblance of normal life would have to prevale in this war, or else the Imperial Army would march in on them while they're half-dead inside, and Britta wasn't having that at all.