The inimitable Sergeant Jackrum of the Borogravian army. My other 1000-follower-celebration sketch request, this one for abigsexyjellyfish. I’ve never drawn Jackrum before, and he’s very different from the sort of character I normally draw, so this was a lot of fun (as you might guess from the fact that I, again, abandoned the whole ‘sketch’ thing and went with more 'finished painting’), and it inspired me to re-listen to the book, which I am of course enjoying immensely.
The fire gleamed off Jackrum’s triumphal face. In the red glow his little dark eyes were like holes in space, his grinning mouth the gateway to a hell, his bulk some monster from the Abyss. Poor old soldier, her father and his friends had sung, while frost formed on the window panes, poor old soldier! If ever I ‘list for a soldier again … the devil shall be my sergeant!
In the firelight the grin of Sergeant Jackrum was a crescent of blood, his coat the colour of a battlefield sky. ‘You are my little lads,’ he roared. ‘And I will look after you.’
We all buy copies of Terry Pratchett’s Monstrous Regiment. And mail it to Trump. And say, “Look at the great things Jackrum did for his country. Would the book be the same without Jackrum?” Maybe send him Feet of Clay or Fifth Elephant too to drive the point home.
And he probably wouldn’t do anything but Terry Pratchett always makes me feel better, especially where Cherry Littlebottom or Sergeant Jackrum is concerned.
‘You know what most of the milit'ry training is Perks?’ he went on. 'All that yelling from little spitbubs like Strappi? It’s to turn you into a man who will, on the word of command, stick his blade into some poor sod just like him who happens to be wearing the wrong uniform. He’s like you, you’re like him. He doesn’t really want to kill you, you don’t really want to kill him. But if you don’t kill him first, he’ll kill you. That’s the start and finish of it. It don’t come easy without trainin’….’