GRAFTING
Grafting is a similar concept to any other type of transplantation, in which part of a living creature is implanted into another. Grafting, however, differs in regards to the purpose for the implantation and the range of options for grafting known and used.
Grafting does not have the restriction that the donor and recipient must be compatible biologically, thanks to the process being rooted in alchemy rather than medicine. As such, grafting has produced both some of the greatest miracles of healing, and most abhorrent creatures known to mankind.
The only requirement for grafting is access to both a scion (donor) and a stock (recipient). This naturally means that the quality and safety of grafting is dependent largely on the one doing it. Black-market grafting is also a major issue almost universally.
In addition, there is a growing practice of creating "Grafted Behemoths." Individuals comprised of tens of different grafted bodies, becoming twisted aberrations of limbs and flesh. These abominations see use in war, and often lead their group or army, ruling by right of power and adding threats or enemies to their own bodies in a twisted form of trophy-taking
Another common issue in grafting is the implantation of organs and limbs taken from highly magical or undead entities. In this case, on top of the desired effect of the grafting, the nature of the scion will begin to "spill over" into the stock. This is especially prevalent in the case of grafting undead bodies, as the stock will usually take on undead traits, such as needing sustenance from blood or flesh. These stocks, however, tend to gain a greater measure of their scion's power, such as enhanced strength or regenerative abilities, provided they satiate their scion's particular need, be it blood or flesh.
The Purple Hand and Venari had remained in Black Iron while they recovered. The townspeople regarded them with open contempt.
The knowledge that Solomon would soon be returned to the House of Mist gave them some security. Once he was reinstated, and with the right medical attention, he could place swathes of the country under an illusion that would make colonization a peaceful matter. Memories could be altered, emotions could be dulled. A small price to pay for peace. Dolorem had been capable of this, but had preferred to use his mark at its most basic level, paltry tricks that barely scratched the surface of his potential.
Having gained a clearer picture of what they were up against, and the resources of the archduke behind them, The Purple Hand requested a party of Wolfcoats for assistance, via carrier pigeon. The two of them had to sit tight, for a while, anyway.
Venari healed dramatically faster than her full-human counterpart, and now her injuries from her battle with Lilith were little more than a bad memory. While awake, the Purple Hand was endlessly questioned by Venari. A point of fascination for her was the fact he used The Purple Hand as his actual name. "It comes with the job, I suppose." He explained, "Everyone who takes up the mantle gives up their name as a sign of loyalty, giving oneself entirely to the cause."
"Sounds like a load of pretentious horseshit." Was Venari's verdict on the matter. "What's your actual, birth name?" She pried. "Rhodri." He answered. "That was my name for the first sixteen years of my life."
"If you hit active service at sixteen…" said Venari. "You were that young?"
"I enrolled in a military academy as soon as I could. I had to join up early to support my mother and sister, now she has a little boy too. I'm doing this for all of them, if I have to be called something else, it is what it is."
"I'm sorry," Venari said, uncharacteristically quietly. "I know how you feel."
"Hmm?"
"I have... had a daughter. No father I'd want her around, obviously. I had to give her up to the Silver Order though. That's how I ended up in this line of work, actually. I send most of my coin her way, so she'll live a bit easier, once she's old enough to take care of herself. Of course, the grafting was part of making sure I could support her."
"I never thought…" Rhodri said, gazing out the window. "I've been dealing with the wrong sort of person for too long."
"On that note," Venari stated, "I need to refill my blood vials, which, well, use your head…"
Rhodri turned to her. "Do you need a source of blood?"
"Unfortunately."
"I normally take it from whatever target I've been sent after, unless the client says so, otherwise, any criminal or lowlife will do." she explained, matter-of-factly.
"And you can't take mine?" Rhodri asked, squirming in his chair.
"That's a wonderful idea, if you'd genuinely like to be drained of all your blood. I need quite a lot, but thanks."
Rhodri stood up. "So be it, let's find a criminal."
***
Lilith rose early the next morning, finding a note on the desk from Lavos, alongside two bowls of barley porridge. She woke Dolorem and read the note aloud. "Please take as long as you need this morning, I've left to gather ingredients, don't feel obliged to stick around."
"To the point," Dolorem said. "We should probably leave him something, if we have anything, that is."
"You're dead broke," Lilith siad. "I'll leave a letter of credit."
"Sounds good. After this, I need to get to a safehouse, to collect some tools and rations." Dolorem began, "If I remember correctly, The City of Reeds had a particularly well-stocked one. Remember the shinobi that Lavos was telling us about?"
"Dolorem, wait," Lilith interrupted.
"Hmm?"
"What do you intend to do after we fulfill The Orochi's request? What then?"
"I suppose the next step would be to return to challenge Solomon, before he can do any serious damage. After that, House Cranswell has to be repelled."
"I mean, what about us?" Lilith pressed.
"Beg your pardon?" Dolorem asked.
"Are you not being a little unrealistic? Challenging Solomon is one thing, but to declare war on a whole empire? That's suicide. I want us, I want you to live, for as long as possible, not die on some battlefield." She explained
"Lilith, these people killed my parents and branded us traitors, I can't let this go. If not me, then who can defend us?"
"And will joining your parents fix that? Will it undo the past? Dolorem, try to see some reason."
"We should discuss this at another time, take things as they come." Dolorem said, desperately uncomfortable.
"No." Was Lilith's defiant answer. "Now is the time. Promise me that this won't be our lives. Once Solomon has been dealt with, that's it. No more bloodshed."
Dolorem said nothing.
"Promise me," Lilith raised her voice, and grabbed Dolorem's collar.
"I promise." Dolorem said gravely, hugging her tight.
After that they made their way to the safehouse. Dolorem had little issue marking it out, taking guidance from sigils marked into the cornerstones of buildings. Once Lilith saw the first few, the rest became incredibly obvious, somehow, where they were hidden before. By the time they reached the safehouse, both of them were painfully aware they hadn't spoken. They went in wordlessly, once inside, Dolorem broke the silence.
"Look, Lilith, I'm sorry about all of this. You're right. I know it, you know it, any attempt on the Archduke would be insane, and I was wrong to go against you. I just… just…"
"Dolorem, I understand. If someone did that to my family I'd probably say the same things, I just have the privilege of clarity right now. I just don't want you to throw your life away." A tense silence hung in the dry, dusty air
Dolorem nodded solemnly, then set about finding himself the tools he needed. "The temple complex is largely made of wood, which is always dry because of the roof shape, so fire isn't a great choice. Firecrackers are preferable, maybe. Otherwise, the usual ropes, grappling hooks, a foldable ladder…"
The Orochi made itself known. "Lilith is right, you know. I doubt we could take on an entire empire at once."
"I'm aware," Dolorem thought, "but what do you want me to do?"
"Well, once the sword is retrieved, you can throw it into the sea for all I care, the tides of causality will put it into the right hands, if not your own will, yours. Afterward, it doesn't matter, our accord is fulfilled." The Orochi explained.
"Orochi," Dolorem asked, after a long pause. "There's something you should know."
"Hmm?"
"That presence you felt yesterday, you should know what it was."
"Felt like a powerful dæmon. It's not uncommon for them to try to force mortals into contracts. Don't worry about it."
"I'm afraid it wasn't a dæmon, powerful or otherwise. It was Amatsu-Mikaboshi. It's my "shadow" self, for want of a better word. It's an expression of someone's worst or most hated traits. They're rare, and usually not very powerful, but in some cases they overtake and subsume the self we project, by means of a seal like Lilith has. That is my condition."
"Orochi, if Amatsu-Mikaboshi manifests, swear that you'll kill me."
"It will be done, Dolorem."
"Thank you, Orochi, I couldn't let Lilith live with seeing it."
"Dolorem? Who are you talking to?" Lilith's voice came from another room.
"Just thinking out loud… Hey, do you want to come in here for a moment?" Dolorem called out. Shaking himself from his daze.
Lilith entered the room, to see Dolorem clattering about with what seemed to be a bizarre cross of plate and splint mail. "Do you reckon this'll fit you?" He said, handing it over. Lilith took the tunic and held it up. The armoured portion consisted of tiny, matte painted steel pieces, which were affixed to the silken sleeve by leather points. The resulting piece of equipment was surprisingly light and flexible, while affording reasonable protection.
"Looks like it, I'll try it on. Does it need padding underneath?"Lilith asked
Dolorem squinted over at the armour. "No, you're alright to wear that one as is, most of us wear them under our plain clothes. The steel part is flexible enough to be comfortable."
"Alright," Lilith said "but what will you be using?"
Dolorem rolled up his sleeve, and the skin on his arm turned to ironlike scales. "I'm covered, literally and figuratively." He said with an awkward grin.
"I suppose you're very proud of that one," Lilith groaned.
"Extremely," Dolorem said, chuckling to himself "Do you have any ideas for how we should infiltrate?"
"Since when did you ask other people what they thought, or for help? You're the shinobi." Lilith asked, confused.
"Correction, I don't do it often because I generally don't trust people, but you are not people, you are my wife and I do trust you." Dolorem explained, somewhat defensively.
"Much appreciated, and not that a honeymoon as fugitives trying to steal an artifact, to which the temple it's in is dedicated to, but what would I know about theft?" Was Lilith's answer.
"No, not theft specifically, but anything from another viewpoint is helpful. You've really never stolen anything, though?" Dolorem asked, incredulous.
"Uhh, no, wasn't something that was encouraged at home" Lilith said. "It's also frowned upon, universally."
"Never even swiped a meal or a coin purse from someone who could do without it to make ends meet?" Dolorem pried.
"I was raised in one of the wealthiest elvish families on the continent, I didn't need to make ends meet." Lilith exclaimed, exasperated. "What kind of childhood did you have?"
"One in poverty, everyone I knew before becoming a shinobi was poor, and shinobi are mostly poor too, just classy poor." Dolorem explained jokingly. He set about digging through the stock of tools in a nearby chest, and took some pouches from another. He tossed Lilith a laquered box, with ribbon on each side. "First aid, tie it to an arm or leg." Then went about searching the armoury, muttering to himself. The armoury was small, with a low roof and racks of gear taking up most of the already limited space. He re-emerged a few minutes later to Lilith carrying a bundle of weapons, all wrapped in a heavy canvas. He carefully laid it out in front of her. "Alright, you get the first pick, you know, just in case everything does go south."
Lilith gazed over the selection before her. There was a wide assortment of knives and daggers, to begin with, which Lilith was comfortable with, but no spears, nor staves, which she was more attuned to. "There are no spears, quarterstaves, something to that effect?" she asked.
"There is one staff, of sorts" Dolorem answered, "but it's nauseating to use."
"Show me," Lilith said.
"As you wish."
Dolorem returned with the staff, or rather, the three batons joined by a chain. "Too long to be a flail, too rigid to be a whip. Possibly the hardest weapon to use in the armoury and one that's generally avoided by just about everyone."
Lilith took it, her one exposed eye widening with delight. "Oh, this'll do fine." She whispered a command word, snapping the weapon out into a staff, held in place by the gentle glow of Lilith's war magic. "One of the few bonding opportunities I had with my brother was learning to use one of these. I knocked myself out, broke his jaw, nearly killed three retainers, in the process, but I can use it like a third arm now."
She twirled it, effortlessly manipulating the staff's segments in a shameless exhibition of her talent. "So, Dolorem, what'll you be using?"
"I'd rather keep my hands clean altogether, but, in case of emergency…" he drew a longsword and complimentary shortsword "...I can't go too badly wrong with this." He fixed the twin blades to his belt.
"You know Dolorem, most newlywed couples do something a little different for their honeymoon." Lilith said.
"Ah, but are they having as much fun as us?" Dolorem answered, striding over and taking her hands.
"Hmmm, hard to tell," she said, putting her head down on his, and her arms over his shoulders. "Dolorem?" She asked.
"Hmm?"
"I'm taller than you."
"I'm aware," Dolorem laughed, "once all this is over, I promise we'll have a proper honeymoon, and buy a nice house somewhere, and open a martial arts school, and live happily ever after with our sixteen children."
"Sixteen?" Lilith exclaimed.
"To be honest I doubt I could half-raise one, it sounded a lot more idyllic and homely in my head. It's a practical nightmare isn't it." Dolorem asked.
"Absolutely, I am not giving up my chances at a good night's sleep anytime soon."
"That said, don't let it stop you from trying," she joked, kissing him on the head. "Now, let's go get that magic sword at the behest of an ancient snake deity, so we don't all die, shall we?"
"Anything sounds insane if you say it that way."