A/N: Here we go, then. I would have posted this yesterday but the Internet gave up on me. This is a lot of original stuff but I might include Hari near the end of the Noalith part. This actually isn't from Noalith's point of view but it's a bit of background on his birth.

evildictionaryninja: Ah, my ever-constant reviewer. I hope you're not getting lonely on this 'cos you're my only reviewer at the minute!

Please review. I'm feeling a bit lonely.

Calasier Avamela Prologue

Noalith - Chapter 1: The Warlord

"General, I demand to see my son!"

The small, white-haired Drow was dwarfed by the taller generals that barred the door. The smaller's hair was the longer, the plait coming down to his knees and a long strand hanging down his face. Though the generals were the larger, the smaller was dressed more richly with a golden dragon headdress and more polished armour. The sword was broad and heavy, clashing with his small, frail form, but it remained on his back. The others had their swords in their hands, barring his way,

"You cannot." said one, who bore a snake upon his hauberk and had his long hair pulled roughly back, "Half-Drows are not worthy of our army."

"Of my army, they are!" argued the smaller, "I lead this army! I'm the Warlord of the Rhunyle Sea and you follow my orders!"

"Oh, don't let's start that again." drawled the other general, who had all his hair tucked into his helmet. He had an eagle carved upon his armour, "You told us you did not want to go to war so, if you are not going to war, you cannot be a Warlord."

"I was named Warlord by my father!"

"A name is only a name." The long, thin sword of the snake general raised a little, "If you cannot live up to it, we won't follow you."

"How can we follow a Warlord who has not even killed an opponent?" jeered the eagle general. The chain between his two short swords clinked as they raised,

"Killing is wrong!" argued the Warlord, "I don't want to take lives, even if it's my mortal enemy! So, please, do not throw my child to the Finned Crocodiles!" Tears were pouring down his face and dripping on his armour, "Everyone deserves to live. You cannot take it back if they die. To cut them off before they have begun is just...just horrible!"

"If you think that it's awful," jeered the eagle general, "then kill us. Your father would never stand for insubordination. You remember Betra? She was torn limb from limb by us on his orders for disagreeing with him. Oh, yes, you liked her, didn't you?" He added, maliciously, as the Warlord's eyes widened at the mention of the name,

"You should not even be in this posistion." added the snake general, "Were it not for your honourable brother dying in battle, you would still be in your cabin, playing with your hair and not holding us all back with your sickening sentimentality."

"Remember our deal? You let us handle the army and we won't put any pressure on you to go into battle. Our duties include what to do with your children."

"Don't kill him!" the Warlord was crying in earnest now. Still, the sword on his back would not budge, "Please, don't kill him. Take my title. Banish me. Only give me my child!"

The generals both scoffed at the sight, "Your honourable father never liked you. You don't have a bone in your body. Perhaps you would be better without your title and we'd send you out to sea to tend a farm."

"You're an insult to your family. We are the more fit to lead this army but we cannot kill you or else insult your father's name. Go and play with your hair. I think I see a split end. "

"My son." The Warlord seemed not to have heard them, "Please, my son."

"Perhaps we weren't making ourselves clear." The snake general grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and almost lifted him off his feet, "Unless you find it in your feminine heart to cut us down now, then your son will be meat to the crocodiles just like your latest precious Nienna." With whimpering sobs, looking as though it cost him everything he held dear, the Warlord raised an arm,

"Whoa, there. That sword looks far too heavy for your weak little body, anyway." added the eagle general with a sneer, "You would not even be able to lift it, let alone make a scratch on us."

"So, it looks like your dear son dies."

The Warlord fell to the floor and, before he could recover himself, the door had closed. With a wail, he frantically beat his fists against it, "Don't kill him! Please don't kill him!" His sobs echoed down the corridor. The snake general scoffed,

"Disgusting." He snarled to the other, as they retreated from the room, "To think that he is the child of the great Marwesl."

"I would have thrown him to the crocodiles a long time ago would he had been my son, wouldn't you, Nestriv?"
"So I would, Renewl." nodded Nestriv, "It's Drow like that vermin that pollute the family blood."

"Speaking of polluted," Renewl added, "where's that half-Elf brat?"

"Left him on deck." shrugged Nestriv, without any feeling, "No point worrying about him catching cold. He'll be dead soon anyway."

They strode out onto the deck of the huge wooden hulk, rising only about fifty feet from the water but the bottom was twice as deep below. Such was a hulk that housed a whole Drow army. Nestriv used his left hand to push open the door since what was left of his right hand was a stump of a wrist. Such was the tradition of the Drow Warlord family they served. Each Warlord family would cut off something from their recruits as their trademark. In this family, it was their right hand. The theory behind it was so a sword could never be raised against them by one of their own. But, of course, to fight for them, they had to learn to handle sword with their left hands. This tradition was the very reason why their symbol was a right hand.

But, the current Warlord had refused point-blank to carry this out. So, Nestriv and Renewl had done this, in honour of the previous Warlord they had so adored. In fact, they had completely dominated the current Warlord. He was a weak-hearted, sentimental Drow who, to their knowledge, had never wielded a sword before. They had often wondered whether the sword he carried was made of mirrors, that could be shattered instantly. For, it had never been drawn. Even if he had got close, they would trample the attempt. He had made the mistake of confiding in them how little he wanted to take up the title of Warlord and they had taken this opportunity in both hands. As a result of this, they kept the Warlord in his cabin practically at all times and commanded the army between them. The two generals were greedy and mimicked the previous Warlord's attitude down to the minutest detail.

They crossed the silent deck. Drows were more active at night so, in the daytime, they would be normally getting some sleep before the hard work of the night. There was the faint sound of whimpering within one of the barrels. Nestriv roughly pulled off the lid and reached within. As soon as the light-skinned child saw him, it began crying noisily. The noise made them glare around self-consciously. They had always concealed the Warlord's attempts to have a family by killing the Elf (he never fell in love with Drows, much to their annoyance) and any result of their affair they found. The Warlord was getting increasingly better at concealing these, though. This time, the babe had been fourteen-months-old before it had been discovered. Nestriv scowled,

"What's the matter with it? It wasn't making much of a noise before."

"Probably your face." Renewl sneered, then became serious, "You do not think that...perhaps...?"

"Not the Rinatula!" gasped Nestriv, dropping the child and making it scream even louder,

"Yes, the Rinatula." nodded Renewl, "Perhaps we should keep this one," The two of them did not always kill the half-Elf children they found. If an innate gift could be found, then they kept it below in the lowest part of the hulk in a cell without the Warlord's knowledge, "and if it turns out that he hasn't, well. We know what to do."

So, they took the child down below deck, down the wooden staircases, swathing it in a sea cloak to attempt to stifle the screams. Feeling that it would honour the previous Warlord, they kept the ineffectual Warlord a secret from everyone. They kept him in his cabin and told everyone lies about how merciless and cruel he was. It would not do to allow the army to see their true leader.

Finally, they reached the bottom deck where the bloated 'nurse' was sitting with her feet up on the table and smoking a pipe. About twenty little half-Drows lay in the cells beyond and all were in her 'care'. They were not so neglected that they died; they were their secret weapons after all but they were not treated like princes. As Renewl said once, "They are treated exactly how they should be; valuable vermin."

When the 'nurse' saw them coming, she stood up, carelessly tossing the pipe aside, "What is it this time, generals?"

"A babe with the Rinatula. Here." Renewl's voice adopted an oily tone he only used with her, "Our Honourable Warlord demands that it should not be thrown to the crocodiles because of this gift. He commands that we leave it in your care."

"The Rinatula?" The 'nurse' raised a thin eyebrow, "That's the first one I've had. Are you sure?"

"Our Honourable Warlord believes so. And, if not, he demands it to be thrown to the crocodiles where the rest of his bastard vermin lie."

"Third brat this month. What was it that he raped this time? A Wood Elf?" To keep their image of a cruel Warlord solid, they made these children sound like the result of brutal sexual assaults,

"I know not." Nestriv shrugged, "We did not have time to find out since our Honourable Warlord threw her to the crocodiles so quickly." The truth was that it was a Wood Elf but they couldn't be too knowledgeable of the 'victims', "And, with so much going on," He added, spotting something, "He hasn't had time to give the Mark to the babe."

"I'll do it." The 'nurse' shrugged, carelessly. Without a flinch, she drew a knife and the tiny hand fell to the floor with a flump. The child screamed in agony but the 'nurse' gave it a sharp slap and snapped, "Any more of that and it's to the crocodiles with you!" The babe fell suddenly silent. The 'nurse' blinked in surprise, "Must have the Rinatula. I really meant it that time."

Nestriv and Renewl turned, "Well, we had better go and report this to our Honourable Warlord. We'll take the hand as proof." They, of course, were not planning to do anything of the sort. They would throw the tiny hand into the sea where it would soon be devoured. The Warlord need never know.

A/N: Well, I don't think you were expecting that, were you?