Re: The Basitin Military: An Illustrated Guide - Part 10: Musician
Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2018 4:17 pm
Part 11 of the Illustrated Guide. This time we will be looking at the apothecary, a battlefield healer who hopes to keep the soldiers under his care on this side of the afterlife. Those of you who have browsed Tom's older Deviantart pages may recognise this image, I decided I liked his design for the basitin doctor so much that I would try and emulate it, with some minor alterations, into the style of the Illustrated Guide. I'll let you tell me whether I have been successful or not. Next up we come to the last of the "normal" images in this series, the cataphract, a mountain of armour that rides around the battlefield before crashing with the force of a tidal wave into enemy formations. After that, things are going to be... a little different for the final push to the end. Enjoy!
Any problems viewing these images, you can find them mirrored on my FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thallium/
A hardy and stoic people, basitins are famed throughout the world for their stamina, stubbornness and their complete inability to know when to just lie down and die. Part of this is psychological: basitins are conditioned from birth to be soldiers and sent away to train with the military after their twelfth birthday, however much of it is physiological as well. Their muscle fibres contract and relax using less energy than a human's or keidran's do which contributes to their great endurance and their vascular system is interspersed with powerful valves that can detect a localised drop in pressure and constrict, slowing rate of blood loss from a catastrophic injury and making it more likely they will be able to survive. Nevertheless, despite these and numerous other adaptions, sometimes a basitin takes more damage then their body can handle, especially on a battlefield, and that is where the apothecaries of the Royal Military Medical Corps step into the fray.
Usually comprised of former soldiers who are too injured to fight on the front lines anymore, the apothecaries provide what medical attention they can to hopefully prevent their comrades from suffering the same fate as themselves. This includes bandaging and stitching wounds, preparing poultices to relieve pain and prevent infection, brewing potions, oils and decoctions to attenuate all sorts of maladies, setting broken bones and, if there is nothing else do be done, amputations and assisted suicides. The act of euthanising their compatriots who after suffering terrible injuries would rather die then live on as a cripple is a sacred task permissible to be carried out only by the apothecaries. If a soldier should choose this option, the act is executed by the use of a conical metal spike, about 25 cm long, placed underneath the jaw and then driven up through the base of the skull and into the brain, killing the wounded warrior instantly. Death by this method affords the soldier the same honour they would have received had they died on the field of battle: their name inscribed forever in gold upon one of the great black marble monoliths that reside within the Hall of Glory. The highest honour a basitin can achieve in their life.
Apothecaries operate behind their own battle lines and so are not equipped for combat, instead wearing a simple blood-red tunic and trousers with a long white coat to designate their job as a healer and, if necessary, an angel of death. One of the most unusual pieces of their clothing however is the blindfolds which they wear at all times when patients start being brought to them not long after battle commences. Basitins are fiercely private creatures, reflected in the draconian decency laws which are enforced on their island home. These laws have had such a strong impact on basitin psyche over the generations that even a soldier in the throws of agony would baulk at the thought of being exposed to someone in the course of their treatment, even a person trying to save their life. To counteract this aversion (and because they are legally required to), apothecaries blindfold themselves so that they cannot see their patient's indecency and instead rely on touch, sound, scent and often the patients own strangled cries of pain to locate and treat whatever injury lies before them. Apothecaries have an additional weapon in their medical arsenal from an rather unexpected source: mice. The Medical Corps specially train these creatures to be able to sniff out infection and other malaises, whereupon they return to their handlers and guide them through a combination of squeaks and tugs to the affected site. This role has gained the mice the nickname of "eyes" amongst the soldiers with many a wounded man joking that even if the apothecaries couldn't see them, their "eyes" would soon be able to tell them if the prognosis was good or bad.
Healing ones comrades may not be quite as glorious as killing ones enemies and it is unlikely that many ballads or songs will be written about the apothecaries fighting on the thin red line, nevertheless it is a job that makes a real difference, enabling those stricken in battle to maybe return and fight once more or provide a glorious end to those who are not so fortunate. For an apothecary, many of whom were once the ones on the operating table themselves, this purpose is enough and they go about their grisly business with the same courage and discipline as the most stalwart soldiers. Death is glorious, but life is glorious too
Any problems viewing these images, you can find them mirrored on my FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thallium/
A hardy and stoic people, basitins are famed throughout the world for their stamina, stubbornness and their complete inability to know when to just lie down and die. Part of this is psychological: basitins are conditioned from birth to be soldiers and sent away to train with the military after their twelfth birthday, however much of it is physiological as well. Their muscle fibres contract and relax using less energy than a human's or keidran's do which contributes to their great endurance and their vascular system is interspersed with powerful valves that can detect a localised drop in pressure and constrict, slowing rate of blood loss from a catastrophic injury and making it more likely they will be able to survive. Nevertheless, despite these and numerous other adaptions, sometimes a basitin takes more damage then their body can handle, especially on a battlefield, and that is where the apothecaries of the Royal Military Medical Corps step into the fray.
Usually comprised of former soldiers who are too injured to fight on the front lines anymore, the apothecaries provide what medical attention they can to hopefully prevent their comrades from suffering the same fate as themselves. This includes bandaging and stitching wounds, preparing poultices to relieve pain and prevent infection, brewing potions, oils and decoctions to attenuate all sorts of maladies, setting broken bones and, if there is nothing else do be done, amputations and assisted suicides. The act of euthanising their compatriots who after suffering terrible injuries would rather die then live on as a cripple is a sacred task permissible to be carried out only by the apothecaries. If a soldier should choose this option, the act is executed by the use of a conical metal spike, about 25 cm long, placed underneath the jaw and then driven up through the base of the skull and into the brain, killing the wounded warrior instantly. Death by this method affords the soldier the same honour they would have received had they died on the field of battle: their name inscribed forever in gold upon one of the great black marble monoliths that reside within the Hall of Glory. The highest honour a basitin can achieve in their life.
Apothecaries operate behind their own battle lines and so are not equipped for combat, instead wearing a simple blood-red tunic and trousers with a long white coat to designate their job as a healer and, if necessary, an angel of death. One of the most unusual pieces of their clothing however is the blindfolds which they wear at all times when patients start being brought to them not long after battle commences. Basitins are fiercely private creatures, reflected in the draconian decency laws which are enforced on their island home. These laws have had such a strong impact on basitin psyche over the generations that even a soldier in the throws of agony would baulk at the thought of being exposed to someone in the course of their treatment, even a person trying to save their life. To counteract this aversion (and because they are legally required to), apothecaries blindfold themselves so that they cannot see their patient's indecency and instead rely on touch, sound, scent and often the patients own strangled cries of pain to locate and treat whatever injury lies before them. Apothecaries have an additional weapon in their medical arsenal from an rather unexpected source: mice. The Medical Corps specially train these creatures to be able to sniff out infection and other malaises, whereupon they return to their handlers and guide them through a combination of squeaks and tugs to the affected site. This role has gained the mice the nickname of "eyes" amongst the soldiers with many a wounded man joking that even if the apothecaries couldn't see them, their "eyes" would soon be able to tell them if the prognosis was good or bad.
Healing ones comrades may not be quite as glorious as killing ones enemies and it is unlikely that many ballads or songs will be written about the apothecaries fighting on the thin red line, nevertheless it is a job that makes a real difference, enabling those stricken in battle to maybe return and fight once more or provide a glorious end to those who are not so fortunate. For an apothecary, many of whom were once the ones on the operating table themselves, this purpose is enough and they go about their grisly business with the same courage and discipline as the most stalwart soldiers. Death is glorious, but life is glorious too