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Showing posts with label Disciple Part II. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disciple Part II. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Guest Post: A Peak Inside the World of Disciple by L. Blankenship

Today we've got another stop on the Disciple: Part II blog tour. L. Blankenship is popping by to give us some insight into the world she built for the world of the Disciple series. She's here to discuss medicine in her fantasy world. Without further ado, I'll leave it to L. Blankenship to show you guys the ropes of medicinal world building! Be sure to check out her book on Amazon (for the Kindle or paperback), Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and Kobo.

Primitive First Aid

Let's say you're building a fantasy world with a pre-industrial level of technology. Let's say you don't want to rely on healing magic to patch your characters up when they get into trouble. This post aims to help get your brain burbling about what your characters will need.

What do people in your fantasy world know about medicine? What misconceptions are they carrying around? That's up to you. There are, however a number of things which it's quite reasonable for even primitive people to know about when it comes to treating injuries.

Cleanliness and health
General cleanliness is one of the easiest ways to improve one's health -- and one of the most variable aspects of a pre-industrial world. Is being clean considered important, in that culture? Do most people have access to soap and water? How long does it take to heat water, or must they settle for cold baths? Are they healthy enough to not catch a fever from taking cold baths?

Do most people get enough to eat? Is it fairly nutritionally balanced? Where can they get vitamins when fruit and veggies are out of season?

First aid kit
What's reasonable to put in a pre-industrial first aid kit?
Clean bandages, whether rags, hemmed fabric, or custom-woven. Two or three inches wide and maybe two feet long.
Curved needles and suturing thread. The thread can be any number of things: catgut (made from sheep intestines, actually) has been used since antiquity as a naturally absorbing (though it may also be scar-producing) suture. Silk was also popular, where it was available. Wool can be used, too. Those stitches will need to be removed later, though.
Scissors/shears. Primitive scissors tend to look more like shears.
Scalpel. The smallest, finest blade that blacksmiths can manage.
Tweezers. How fine-nosed they are will depend on the smiths.
Person should know how to set a bone, pop a joint back in, lance an abscess, and stitch wounds.
Also include a wound-cleaning method (see next point)

Simple ways to clean a wound
Whether your people even realize a wound needs cleaning is an entirely different argument. But assuming you've worked that out, bear in mind that none of these are as effective as modern topical antibiotic creams, rubbing alcohol or iodine, but they will increase the survivability of a wound. Which of these is most appropriate for your characters to have at hand depends on technology, environment, and cost.
Soap and water
Vinegar
Distilled alcohol
Witch hazel

Not Helpful
Should we pour boiling wine on the wound? Let's look at this logically: modern table wine is up to 14% alcohol, so it's 86% water. Alcohol boils at a lower temperature than water does, so by the time wine starts to boil the alcohol content has already dropped. So then you pour this boiling liquid onto an open wound and add a burn to your list of problems. You've now definitely killed the tissue around your wound, making it more hospitable to invading bacteria -- and giving your body more healing to do. Great idea.

Which does not mean that people won't do this, of course. There's a long history of medical practices that did at least as much harm as good, out there. But the writer should know the truth, as much as possible.

There's magical healing in my novel Disciple, but when the magic runs out they fall back on primitive medical techniques to keep their patients alive. Kate is a physician, so she is right in the thick of the stitching and bone-setting, but all the gore she sees is because she's there to help.

Back cover of Disciple, Part II
The prince first kissed Kate Carpenter for fear of missing the chance if they didn’t survive the journey home through the monster-prowled mountains.

Now that kiss seems like a fever dream. It’s back to work for her, back to the fellow physicians jealous of her talents and the sneers of an infirmary director who wants her shipped off to some tiny village. Kate means to be on the front lines to save lives. She’s worked too hard to overcome her past to let them deny her the chance to serve her homeland when the enemy’s army reaches their kingdom.

The grand jousting tournament is a chance to prove she can manage combat wounded, and at the royal Solstice banquet Kate means to prove she isn’t an ignorant peasant girl anymore.

But the prince’s kiss still haunts her. Their paths keep crossing, and the easy familiarity they earned on the journey home is a welcome escape from their duties. It’s a small slip from chatting to kisses.

This is no time to be distracted by romance -- a vast and powerful empire is coming to slaughter anyone standing between them and the kingdom’s magical fount.

Kate ought to break both their hearts, for duty’s sake.

Disciple, Part II on sale now
along with Disciple, Part I


Disciple, Part III coming in late 2013
Disciple is complete in six parts and will make a lovely doorstop
when all 400k words have been published.

Goodreads links:

Friday, April 5, 2013

Disciple Part II Excerpt

L. Blankenship has been busy at work since she last stopped by the blog for her Disciple Part I tour. How busy? Busy enough to have already cranked out Disciple Part II! Today, I have an excerpt from the book to share with you guys. On the 10th, L. Blankenship will be here to discuss medicine in the world of Disciple. Until then, check out Part II at Amazon (for the Kindle or paperback), Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and Kobo.

The prince first kissed Kate Carpenter for fear of missing the chance if they didn’t survive the journey home through the monster-prowled mountains.

Now that kiss seems like a fever dream. It’s back to work for her, back to the fellow physicians jealous of her talents and the sneers of an infirmary director who wants her shipped off to some tiny village. Kate means to be on the front lines to save lives. She’s worked too hard to overcome her past to let them deny her the chance to serve her homeland when the enemy’s army reaches their kingdom.

The grand jousting tournament is a chance to prove she can manage combat wounded, and at the royal Solstice banquet Kate means to prove she isn’t an ignorant peasant girl anymore.

But the prince’s kiss still haunts her. Their paths keep crossing, and the easy familiarity they earned on the journey home is a welcome escape from their duties. It’s a small slip from chatting to kisses.

This is no time to be distracted by romance -- a vast and powerful empire is coming to slaughter anyone standing between them and the kingdom’s magical fount.

Kate ought to break both their hearts, for duty’s sake. 

Excerpt:

After spending the day debriefing the king on the results of their mission, Prince Kiefan leads Kate into a quieter part of the castle...

He still held my hand. No voices, nobody nearby to see us. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat, wondering where he meant to take me. And what he meant to do there. Surely I didn’t have to worry whether anyone would hear me scream… was there anything he could do that I’d need to?

My cheeks warmed.

Slim pillars held up a graceful stone arcade. Between them, we walked onto frost-burnt grass. A gnarled apple tree, leaves golden and half fallen to the ground, stood ringed by a waist-high juniper hedge. Beyond, the castle wall rose sheer and seamless. To either side, the watchtowers bulged from its face and spiked up like smooth horns. I had to crane my neck to find the tips, and in doing spotted the catwalks that connected each tower to the roof of Castle Kaltkern. The garden lay below the keep, hemmed in by saint-cut cliffs on both sides.

A crescent garden, I saw now. To either side, more fruit trees dropped their leaves, and the rose bushes had gone bare for the winter, but the juniper hedges held their green. Under the central apple tree waited a broad wooden bench. By my hand, still warm in his grip, Kiefan led me toward it and a tangle of hopes and fears snapped tight around my heart.

He didn’t sit, though. He stood under the tree and looked up. “Sometimes I can get some quiet here,” he said. “When Mother isn’t seeking solitude herself.”

I looked up, too, into golden leaves and dark branches. Blue, beyond. “It must be lovely in the spring.” I could imagine the trees hazed by white blossoms.

“And in the summer, when the roses are out, the scent hangs like a fog between the walls.”

He still held my hand. My nerves eased, I sidled closer to his shoulder. He smelled of sweat, under his layered woolens. “You spent the afternoon at swordplay?”

He nodded, bringing his gaze down to me. “I thought he would send for the captain, but Woden tossed me a sparring sword himself. I nearly dropped it when he chose one and stood at guard.”

“You sparred with a saint?”

Kiefan shook his head, disbelieving it himself. “I saw him spar with Captain Aleks, once. She said it was her most valuable lesson.”

“You lived to tell. You didn’t ask him to give you quarter?” I risked a smile.

A chuckle. “He gave none, that’s true. I won’t know how many bruises I have until morning, I’m sure.” He tugged out the collar of his cote to feign checking inside. “We spoke about the lamia, and he told me I was using my kir to keep their teeth off me despite the close quarters. The beginnings of a kir-shield. With training, I’ll be able to control it more.”

“We all learned something out there.” I looked up as a chilly breeze sent a few more leaves spinning from the branches and caught a wince on Kiefan’s brow. “Are you hurt? A headache?”

“A little.”

I knew what that meant. I put my hand on his fresh-shaven cheek and turned his head toward me to call his kir. It glowed in answer, revealing a few tangles on his meridian, but I got no further in checking him.

Kiefan leaned over and kissed me, wrapping me in both strong arms. Coaxed my mouth open to spar with his tongue. He left me breathing harder with my palm still on his face.

I combed my fingers over the ridges of his Blessing at the back of his neck and pulled him down for another. His arms tightened on me. His lips made their way to my throat and his tongue tracing the hollow there stabbed a shiver into my spine. My pulse surged.

With a hard breath, he buried his face against my neck and squeezed me till I squeaked. I clung to his shoulders, my feet lifted an inch off the ground. He held me warm and safe, despite the cold breeze.

“You must come to Prohzgrad with us,” he said against my neck. “Cure me with a kiss each night.”

I swallowed a sudden lump. “You’re going away?” I managed to ask through his grip.