ELVISH WEDDING RITES
Due to the theoretically infinite lifespan and culture of elves, their marital rites are somewhat different to those of Humans, or any other mortal race.
For instance, elves do not marry until death. Typically, elvish marriages last an agreed length of time, typically fifty to one hundred years. After this, the couple can choose to separate on good terms, or to renew their wedding for another term. Naturally, should a human and elf marry, the bond is until the death of the human, given the massive rift in lifespans.
Same-sex marraiges are fairly common within elven society, as most elves are bisexual. This serves to further lower their already low birth rate but isn't viewed any differently by the community, as elves do not believe in a need to increase their populations. Extramarital affairs are fairly uncommon due to the fact that elves only marry for an agreed term anyway.
Elven weddings are typically informal affairs, with only close friends and family invited. The ceremony is solely civil, with religious institutions having little interest in running them, nor anything in their doctrines regarding how they should be conducted. Children born within elven marriages are raised by both parents until they are of age, and then they will go out to live on their own. They will typically be expected to maintain good relationships with any and all half-siblings, and even aid their parents in raising them.
The House of the Adjudicators is a notable exception to this tradition. Their members are actively encouraged to marry non-elven according to the traditions of their spouse, for the dual purposes of improving allegiances to other regions and cultures, and preventing inbreeding. For this reason, Adjudicators are sometimes referred to as "Blunt Ears" by old elven nobility. As they lack the recessive trait of pointed ears found in pure-bred elves. Any dilution of elvish blood causes the trait to be lost entirely.
That week, Corvus was left in Irilith and Venari's care, back at the House of Mist. Dolorem and Lilith had moved to a camp three kilometers away, at the border. The alliance had positioned itself on the crest of the hill, and in the distance the telltale smoke spirals of the Imperial forces' encampment could be seen. They had days to prepare.
Dolorem had directed the formation of the army into three distinct units, a frontline of pikemen, behind that, the riflemen, and behind that again longbowmen. Rudimentary barricades had been set up on the hill for added protection.
Lilith organised the arming and tactics of foot soldiers that supported the main units. They'd been given basic training in war magic, while not much, she hoped it would at least slow casualties.
Night fell on the first night, and Lilith left her tent under the cover of darkness. She flitted across the land as a ghost, Venari's cloak turned inside-out to reveal a black lining. She approached the Imperial camp, her prosthetic eye granting her the ability to see sentries by their naturally occurring magic energy. They appeared as anything from hazy shadows to brilliant beacons.
She carefully avoided their gaze, creeping into the outermost storehouse, throwing a cloak she found over her shoulders. The bulk of two cloaks on her shoulders, in combination with her height made her figure look masculine enough to pass as an imperial soldier. To be sure, she tied her snowy hair back, and rubbed some dirt into her cheeks hoping to give the impression of an older man.
Lilith emerged into the camp, hood up. She had a simple goal, to raise hell. In her satchel, she had six bottles of powdered white arsenic. Walking with confidence, but avoiding the gaze of soldiers, she made her way to the mess tent, where the wine casks could be found, the tent was empty, thankfully, and she dumped the six bottles into the wine, mixing the concoction with a ladle found nearby.
Once the job had been done, she walked out. Next was the gunpowder stores. The storage tent was heavily guarded, unsurprisingly. Lilith dipped into a nearby tent to strategise. Starting a fight was out of the question. She was unlikely to be able to bluff her way through. A distraction was needed.
The imperial soldier's horses were being kept nearby. On her way to them, a soldier passed her, giving some half-hearted grunt of greeting before moving on. Lilith's heart pounded, and she struggled to control her urge to break into a sprint. The soldiers were tired, and those on night duty cared little about that which didn't demand their attention. He passed no further heed of Lilith.
Lilith slipped into the paddock, leaving the gate open and made her way over to the hitching posts, cutting them with her knife. Next, she found a lunging-whip racked nearby and cracked it skyward, sending the horses running in a frenzy. The panicked neighing of the horses alerted the nearby troops, letting Lilith enter the gunpowder store amidst the chaos. She took a length of rope and wove a fire seal at one end, burying the other in a barrel of gunpowder.
She had seconds at best, she tore off the outer cloak and reversed Venari's cloak before teleporting back to her own camp in a flurry of vermillion. As she appeared at the camp, the distant thunderclap of the gunpowder stores confirming her plan had worked. The camp lay westward, they'd attack tomorrow morning before the enemy could recover.
On her way out of the tent she was met by a panicked Dolorem. "Where were you?" He asked breathlessly.
Lilith turned to point to the amber haze on the horizon. "I destroyed the enemy's gunpowder stores, and poisoned their wine, didn't even get caught!" She exclaimed proudly.
Dolorem's face turned ashen-grey. "Without backup? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is, Lilith, what would've happened if you were caught?"
"What does it matter, I wasn't. Besides, you always do infiltrations by yourself." Lilith argued.
"The difference is I have been specifically trained to do so, and I'm expendable, you are neither." Dolorem rebutted.
"Expendable? Are you out of your mind?" Lilith growled, grabbing his collar. "These people need you, your son needs you, I need you. You don't get to leave that behind."
"Lilith…I…" Dolorem stammered.
"No, this entire chain of events has been one suicide attempt after another, attempts you survive seemingly because you can't die. Enough is enough!"
"We're sidestepping the problem here, Lilith. You performed an unauthorised, dangerous incursion into enemy territory, you put yourself in extreme danger, and you acted completely without planning or backup. I have no doubt that your intentions were good, but I can't ignore this as a commander or your husband." Dolorem explained.
"Are you serious?" Lilith whispered sharply. "Are you for fucking real?"
"Lilith, please, try to understand…I can't face my own soldiers and expect them to follow orders when my own wife doesn't have to. Please, don't make this any more difficult than it already is." Dolorem said, voice cracking. "Return to the House of Mist. That's an order."
"Or what?" Lilith asked.
"The usual punishment for breaking rank is execution. Please, just go." Dolorem whispered.
"Fine." Lilith spat, turning to leave.
"Lilith…" Dolorem called after her.
"What?"
"No matter what happens, I will always love you."
Lilith said nothing, just walked back to her tent. Once she was entirely sure she couldn't be seen, and only then, did she permit herself to cry. She cried out of anger, of frustration, but mostly out of fear of losing Dolorem.
Dolorem returned to his tent, and collapsed. He felt awful to his very core. He'd had no choice, right? He wouldn't have been able to live with himself had he covered up what Lilith did. How could he be sure he made the right move? What would he tell the soldiers under her command? There were no answers.
Lilith had crippled the enemy, there was no doubt of that. An attack would be mounted the next morning, as the sun rose behind them. The sooner they swept over the camp, the better.
They'd rise at dawn and begin their assault by the time the sun was full in the sky. Now, what Dolorem needed was sleep.
***
Dawn came, and Dolorem gave the order. The imperial troops had gathered at the edge of the slope, forming ranks already. Dolorem gave the order to form their own ranks. Within a half hour, they were ready, with Dolorem at the front of the formation, already shifted into his hybrid form. His scales shone gold in the light of dawn.
"My soldiers," Dolorem roared at the top of his lungs, "Today we fight for our freedom, our homes and our families. Those who fall today, fall as heroes. There may come a day where our lands are fractured, and the bonds of brotherhood are severed, but today is not that day!"
Dolorem's hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "Archers, ready."
The imperial soldiers braced, forming tortoise arrangements with their shields. Dolorem wove a long sequence of hand seals, he expected this tactic, and had a counter.
"Kaminoikari!" He shouted, placing a hand on the ground. Dolorem had unleashed the pinnacle of Earth Jutsu. The ground beneath the imperial soldiers shook violently, cracking beneath their feet, dismantling the shell they'd formed.
"Fire!" Dolorem ordered.
The sky above the imperial soldiers darkened with a swarm of arrows. They fell as a mass of iron, spearing the fractured ranks with sickening slicing sounds. Those who survived had been rattled severely, and now scrambled to form a wall to allow those behind them to advance.
Dolorem gave the signal to hold fire. He wouldn't be able to cast Kaminoikari again without meditating to replenish his earth seal. He could try drawing in natural energy at an increased rate, but again, that required time he didn't have to meditate. He'd have to puncture the wall himself.
Without hesitation, Dolorem sprinted headlong at the enemy. He activated his mark, time slowing to a crawl, then began to weave hand seals, this time, however, it was a fakeout. Seeing the enemy brace for another earthquake he leapt into the air and drew his swords, and summoned a wave of storm-force wind, sending a swathe of shield-bearers tumbling in the dirt.
Dolorem was in the thick of enemy forces now, blasting off fire and water jutsu interchangeably to clear space, protected by a wall of storms. His longbowmen suppressed the advance of those behind the first rank, and riflemen cut down the distracted frontline. Suddenly, the ranks parted, and Manus himself rode into the fray astride a grey stallion. He leapt off his mount and walked straight through the storm, seemingly unfazed. Dolorem's onslaught of jutsu stopped to face the intrusion.
"Five Seals," Manus called out. "This ends here!"
Dolorem leveled his sword at Manus. "Agreed. I'd have rathered it never started."
Manus drew his longsword, the blade somewhat patterned by pulsating gold. And circled Dolorem.
Dolorem waited for an opportunity to counterattack. Manus lunged forward, making a deadly thrust. Dolorem slipped behind the blade and responded with a slash from his shortsword, up into Manus' wrist.
Dolorem reset his stance and backed away carefully. Manus looked at his already-healing wound. "You've gotten faster."
Dolorem said nothing, becoming deeply focused on his blades. His mind was empty. Manus feinted left into an overhead strike,but Dolorem was a fraction of a second too quick, deflecting and pummeling Manus in the face with the butt of his sword. Manus staggered back momentarily.
Dolorem produced a set of illusory copies, all rushing Manus, but he seemed able to differentiate the original from the clones, he directed a deadly thrust at the real Dolorem. "Saint's Mark, Five Seals! It lets me see through your deception!"
Dolorem made one-handed seals, still holding his shortsword with his ring and little fingers, unleashing a barrage of iron quills at his opponent.
Manus held a bracered forearm up to meet the pointed shards, missing the opportunity to parry Dolorem's sword-thrust, and was run through, Dolorem slashing a deep crimson gouge in his underarm.
He turned to face Dolorem, the wound already healing. "Perhaps I've taken you too lightly, five-seals." He said.
"I've given thee courtesy enough."
Manus stripped off his breastplate and pauldrons, breathing deeply. He wore a simple white shirt underneath, through which the glow of two Marks could be seen. One gold, one a deep amber. Manus tossed his sword aside and rushed Dolorem, so fast that even Dolorem's perception couldn't keep up, lifting him in a bear hug.
He tackled Dolorem to the ground, thrusting his sword deep into his ribcage. Dolorem responded by forming a transmutation seal, taking on the form of a great white serpent, wrapping himself around Manus' arms and sinking fangs deep into his enemy's throat, pumping toxin deep into his veins. Manus was seemingly unaffected, his Mark burning the venom out of his system.
Dolorem wrapped his coils around the startled Manus, crushing bones and puncturing organs, hoping to overcome his regeneration. Manus, however, had other plans. His second Mark activated, and Manus began to grow, becoming a veritable mountain of muscle and sinew.
In his new form, he tore Dolorem off and cracked him like a whip. Dolorem's vision blurred as his entire spine snapped, forcing him to revert forms. He tumbled along the ground, his bones already snapping into position once again. Standing, he drew his sword, gathering a lengthened blade of air around it, bringing it down in a titanic cleave.
It barely penetrated Manus' ironlike hide. Manus' blood oozed from the shallow wound, Dolorem's ran cold upon him realizing his situation. His only weak points were likely to be the eyes and ears. The problem was reaching them, Manus now towering over him, easily fifteen metres tall, and lethally fast for his size. Dolorem leapt and scrambled over his blows, around him the battle raged, both sides having resorted to melee combat.
Dolorem cast an illusion on Manus, having him believe that Dolorem was climbing his body already, shortsword digging into his back. In response, Manus crashed to the ground, intending to crush the illusory Dolorem while the real one summoned Blackflame, and took his opportunity to slash out his eyes, the onyx flares eating away at his flesh. Dolorem was caught with his panicked flailing, his ribcage flattened in an instant.
Dolorem tumbled across the ground, blinded by pain and coughing up blood. Amatsu-Mikaboshi's influence crept in. Manus slammed down on Dolorem, hand open, seemingly able to hear where he hit the ground, holding him aloft in a clenched fist. "Think, Dolorem!" He hissed, "Do you want to die here? I am not the enemy, he is!" Doloorem resisted the urge to relinquish control. Manus took hold of Dolorem's torso with his other hand, and twisted.
The pain was unbearable, flesh, organs, and bones were all ripped asunder and mingled, blood spraying everywhere. Dolorem couldn't have healed any before he was ripped in half.
The world became a tangled kaleidoscope of shadows and dancing lights as Dolorem fell to the ground. Time slowed to a crawl. Amatsu-Mikaboshi's pleas were the only shred of lucidity Dolorem could cling to. He was never the enemy, was he?
He had always been a part of Dolorem. He'd been all the things Dolorem feared within himself, arrogance, bloodlust, aggression, all desperately needed now. All the rage he'd suppressed through the years, all the restraint he'd exercised.
There was no Dolorem and Amatsu-Mikaboshi. They were one. Two aspects of a single being, paradoxical, and somehow, complete because of it.
"Amatsu-Mikaboshi…" Dolorem whispered, through bloodied lips.
"Converge."