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New beginnings New Beginnings

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Each DVD was also released separately in Region 1. The first silvered tongues of the Kalimdor morning breached the mist shrouded pines of the Draenei’s new home, and the world awoke to a new, precious day. Pavla Illaris sat down in the dew-wetted grass, closed her eyes, and lifted her face towards the sun with a smile. She lost herself here each morning in the deep rumblings of the earth and whispers of the wind – the very breath of the world itself. She could feel each soothing intake and the reluctant exhale. The breath of convalescence; of a world mending itself after the great tragedy of the Legion’s second invasion. It was easy and rhythmic, nothing like the tortured and ragged inhalations of the shattered Draenor. Here she could feel life and growth, and not the tortured imprints of a world broken and her own people mercilessly slaug Now at last my dream is real I found peace True love can heal On the journey throughout time A new beginning has arrived At the crossroad of my life This new love keeps me alive I never knew that this could happen to me So many lonely days and nights I never knew that you were waiting for me Hope was out of sight And suddenly I see the future clearly No longer living in the past As I let go Living the dream Of my life I was alone - no one in sight This love - make me believe that you're the one Never give up - our day has come Drax was summoned to the highest point in the Citadel by the High Priest. The most senior members of the religion have gathered awaiting his arrival. The impression given to Drax by his two escorts, both Trandoshan, was that this meeting was very important. Five white robed figures stand around the altar with Tantrix standing before it with a hand placed on an object resting securely on the small platform. Light spills into the chamber from the Kashyyyk system star. The High Priest confirms with the escorts that Drax was on the way and the group stands quietly staring toward the turbolift. New Beginnings is the first episode of the fourth series of Shameless, it marks a major change in the cast with many characters from the previous series being written out of the show. Many generations after ThunderClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan and WindClan are long gone, SkyClan, WaterClan, DarkClan, and AirClan now rule the forest in new territory. This story follows my role playing characters: Shimmerpool, Firestorm, Lionclaw, Tigerstripe, and Jayflight on how they came to the forest. Also how they grow up. This is the first book of the series I made. Editing tested by noone New Beginnings is the first episode of Alpha X: The Secret of the Saber. Name: New Beginnings Run Time: 3:42 Written By: Dave Cousins, Dave Lambert Year: 1978 New Beginnings is a short story written by user Chicken Bond for Toa Hydros and his storyline. It takes place during and shortly after the Raid on Artakha, and shows the creation of Henarck and how he eventually became part of the Society of Guardians. Terrified screams echoed down a long, narrow corridor. Screams riddled with fear and horror, as another tremor shook the fortress. Stones of indescribable age fell from the ceiling, clashing against the floor and splitting, coughing up a thick cloud of dust. Kojol’s crimson eyes shifted to meet his accomplice’s gaze. "New Beginnings" is the 720th episode of Casualty and the 34th episode of the 24th series. Elan enjoys the Southern New Year celebration under Hinjo's nose. Seasonal shop run by Jane, open from March 1st to May 31st. It sells spring themed costume-like apparel. File:JaneSpring.png "Bye mom! I'm out!" said a young boy as closed the front door to his house and began to walk down the street, today would be his first day as a genin. He had just passed the genin exam with flying colors and was going to the assembly at the Academy before meeting his Sensei. Clyde was laughing as he was making fun of the teacher way of speaking. "Clyde shut up....at least act like a ninja man." said young boy in the other line. "Chill out Honame, tell it isn't funny come on now hahaha." he said Laughingly. New beginnings is a made up story for the naruto series made by user:derekmatthews33. It is not related to the current story line for naruto at all in anyway possible it has it's own kage, akatsuki, and jinchuriki for it. A short story, written by Kaitlyn, about the forming of the Black Star. New Beginnings is a type of number one contender tournament which takes place in the month(s) of January and sometimes December in the Fearless Championship Wrestling. New Beginnings is an asylum for children.Their motto is "If your child is a sociopath,we can help". "New Beginnings" is the eleventh episode of season 6 of the NBC television series Parks and Recreation, and the 101st episode overall. It premiered on January 16, 2014 to 3.05 million viewers. New Beginnings is the 3rd episode of S4 of The End Of My Soul, this episode was directed by David Duchovny. This episode is about Pearl Krabs and her friends talk to SpongeBob about the events after he jumped in the portal. This episode marks the return of Alex Kyreck. Mr. X gets killed off in this episode. My name is Kayleigh but most people call me Kaywee or Angel... Idk what else to put but aI will maybe put more stuff on later

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New Beginnings is an asylum for children.Their motto is "If your child is a sociopath,we can help". New Beginnings is the first episode of Alpha X: The Secret of the Saber. New Beginnings is the first episode of the fourth series of Shameless, it marks a major change in the cast with many characters from the previous series being written out of the show. New beginnings is a made up story for the naruto series made by user:derekmatthews33. It is not related to the current story line for naruto at all in anyway possible it has it's own kage, akatsuki, and jinchuriki for it. Each DVD was also released separately in Region 1. Drax was summoned to the highest point in the Citadel by the High Priest. The most senior members of the religion have gathered awaiting his arrival. The impression given to Drax by his two escorts, both Trandoshan, was that this meeting was very important. Five white robed figures stand around the altar with Tantrix standing before it with a hand placed on an object resting securely on the small platform. Light spills into the chamber from the Kashyyyk system star. The High Priest confirms with the escorts that Drax was on the way and the group stands quietly staring toward the turbolift. Drax had been taking some time for himself, alone in his quarters, when he had received word. The words from the Trandoshan messengers were all that the seasoned intelligence agent had to go on with regard to interpreting possible meanings. He just didn't have enough dealings or experience with their race to be able to read them well. Had his purpose here been blown? The Alderaanian had taken a solid minute to ponder his situation, running various strategies through his head while taking into account his own feelings towards the group. Tantrix had come to trust him and his gut told him that this was everything he was looking for. Not the 'he' that New Republic Intelligence had come to employ, but the 'he' that was his own person. His own wants, desires, and needs. The man he had become slowly over time. It was one of the hardest decisions the starfighter jockey had made since leaving Tatooine to rejoin civilization, but it was now time for him to put trust in Tantrix as well. It was time for him to commit to this. The doors to the turbolift slide open, revealing the form of Drax Rendolen. He is clad in the white robes that many of the Followers wore around the grounds. Both hands were clasped together, allowing for the long sleeves to converge and cover his hands entirely. Emerald eyes scan over the occupants of the room, instinctively sizing each one up and measuring how much of a threat they posed. It wasn't a conscious choice, but rather a result of the years of training and experience. Finally, they simply focus on Tantrix and he allows a smile to form for a moment before suppressing it. After releasing a breath, he steps into the room and starts to walk in the direction of the altar. "If you believe in fate, you would say it has a very strange way of working. Indeed if it was the power behind the universe I would agree, but my theory is that destiny exists but can be changed by the single will of its object of interest. You were brought here by, what could have been very mundane purposes, Drax, but you have come here and deep within your heart you have found something you never expected to grasp." Tantrix smiles and nods, "These are the highest of council in our religious movement." he gestures behind him, "They have deemed you worthy to ascend to the most holy circles in our religion. To take a seat here means you are loved, respected, and trusted. I feel, it is the next logical step. You have ascended faster and done more than the average seeker since you came. Your dedication to our order has shined a light through these walls." He smiles warmly but it fades. "This move is not without its price, all members of the most inner sanctum must be true to themselves in the purest of ways, the holiest of truths. They must reveal and cast their former selves aside and ascend to a place of protectors and seekers of truth." he waves a hand and two of the members pull their cloaks back revealing stumps one missing an arm at the elbow and another an entire leg, silently being propped by a crutch. Tantrix's soft eyes turn to Drax, "To be true to yourself is to not cling to cybernetics and to reveal everything unknown about you to our council. Not to be judged, but to be freed from the weight and sorrow of your past. Your chains will be broken today and you will rise above concepts and find yourself surrounded by the reassurance of truth." The words made more sense to Drax than Tantrix probably knew. He never believed in luck and he certainly didn't believe that he was on any sort of rigid, predefined path. The man wouldn't go so far as to say he believed this was all pure chaos, but he did want to believe there was a purpose for everything, a reason for all that he had done and all that he had struggled through. Perhaps it was a selfish want, but the Alderaanian wouldn't deny that he clung to it. "I am honored." Drax had come to a stop before the altar now and his eyes passed over each of the others gathered there now, studying them in a new light. He looked to each of those whom had revealed their impairments and as he did so, his hands broke free of one another, coming to a rest at his sides and revealing his own metallic hand. As the charge is given, he raises his hand in front of himself and looks at it while flexing his fingers a big. His good hand reaches under his robes while he looks distantly through the altar and pauses for a moment. "Very well. I will do what is necessary and will not hide who I am." With that said, a several loud clicks can be heard as the arm disconnects from the socket connected to his arm. It clangs loudly as it crashes to the ground at his side. His good hand leaves an empty sleeve to returns to his side, resting there with little else to do. The man's primary gun hand was now lying at his feet. Not that it mattered, with all of his weapons packed with his personal belongings. "I am prepared. What else am I to do?" Two attendants come to collect the arm as Tantrix steps forward now to examine the stump his fingers running across it, "There might be a need for a surgery we'll need to strip out all of its parts and foundations." He looks up with some sympathy, "Do not fear we are very good at what we do." he assures Drax placing a calming hand on his shoulder, "The physical sacrifice has shown you are prepared for the spiritual sacrifice." The High Priest declares, "As you cast off your false limb, now you must cast off the masks which you wear before those around you and reveal to us your truest of identities. Understand, Drax Rendolen of Alderaan, no one here is a fool and our research extends across time and borders to reveal to us identities and truths of everyone. To complete our collections to expand our knowledge our members must hold truth to the highest pinnacle and surrender all information about themselves to our altar. We have no secrets, everything is stored and we hold no qualms about where we once were." He gestures toward a few members of the council, "Byran Lemisk was related to the designer of the Death Star, the horror of its creation put him in a catatonic state for twelve years. When he came out of it he still ended up following his cousins footsteps and doing scientific research for the Empire only to flee during the emergence of the false Palpatine. He found me in the outer rim and I guided him to peace." He steps to the side and places a hand on another figure, "Evre Clarkson, was a New Republic Xenobiologist that lost his entire family in the destruction of Gastus IV. He was actually stationed on the world but had left on a short vacation from his research post. After the incident he wandered the galaxy like a lost soul hiring his skills out to the highest bidder to mercenaries and others in the development of chemical and biological weapons. He realized his folly and came to us casting his past to the side in favor of his future. These are just two examples." The High Priest steps forward, "What can you share with us of your past and present, Drax? As what remained of Drax's arm is touched, he felt nothing. The end had become a mixture of metal and scar tissue, neither of which could relay to him any sensations. "I have no doubt that they are quite capable and the best at what they do." The man stood in place, staring ahead and gathering strength within him for the next step. While he was in a resting position, he was standing now with his feet a shoulder width apart and his posture perfect. It was as if he were on the flight line, ready to run to his fighter and launch himself into the fray. The same sort of nervous ball was developing in his stomach as Tantrix spoke, revealing each man's past to him in a rather casual manner. He knew the time had come and he was prepared to do it. The more he thinks about the words he will choose, the more his shoulders begin to slump and his posture degrades. When it comes time, his eyes look past Tantrix. "I am not a model Alderaanian. They say that to fight a monster you must become one yourself. Over time, that is what has happened. I've made trade-offs for what I had thought was the greater good. I started as a starfighter pilot and was later recruited into New Republic Intelligence. In their name, and my own, I admit, I have killed, tortured, and used others to further my goals. I've seen and done terrible things and have hated myself for it. I drink to stop myself from thinking about it, to be able to get a night of sleep without waking up in a cold sweat, to punish myself, and to... find peace. I've loved and lost countless times and the pain of it stabs at me every time I wake up. I have become a shell of a man who simply..." Drax wished for a nicostick right about now and a shot of a very expensive Corellian whiskey. He paused for a moment as another thought enters his head. "What scares me the most about myself is that what I've done doesn't affect me anymore." His gaze is drawn back as he forces himself to lock eyes with each of the individuals in the room and finally Tantrix himself. The time to commit was now. "And I was sent here my NRI to investigate you all. I'm glad they did, to be honest, because I probably never would have brought myself to come here on my own if they hadn't. I understand why they would worry about all of this, but now that I have become a part of it... I see how foolish they really are. I suppose fate brought me here, but it is my decision to end the original path and to walk a new one." The council grew silent for several moments to reflect on Drax's words and then Tantrix steps forward and nods, "Free yourself of these burdens, we hold you no grudge or ill will. Your past has sculpted the person before us, and I can see no fault in it. Remember you are still alive and there is much to be sculpted and done in the future as well." The High Priest nods, "Your world is changing, for now you will take the title Priest." He bends down and dips his hand the water flowing around the altar and touching a drop to the man's forehead, "Clear your mind of regret. No one can justify the past be it right or wrong, the past is a record our concerns and worries must stay fixated on the present and future. Priest Rendolen, you know truth." Tantrix declares and steps back as another pair of white robed figures approach Drax, We'll prep for your surgery right away. When you come out of it an entirely new universe will be awaken to you." Clear his mind of regret? The words were easier said than done for Drax. The man had never shied away from a challenge in the past and today things would be no different. He nods his head assertively while doing his best to hide the uncertainty he held inside at that moment. "Thank you. I will do my best to live up to the honor I have been given." He bows his head to the group and then turns to follow the white robed figures that had just joined them at the altar. Would he wake up from this? Would there actually be an operation? What would he do without his arm? Would he ever hold a gun again? Was this real? Were they really taking him in? A million possible outcomes were racing through his mind like championship swoop racers in Beggar's Canyon. He was thinking far enough ahead in terms of strategies and possibilities that he might as well be a master holochess player. Finally, he forces them all from his mind and tries to concentrate on the present. He knew he would survive. He always did. The subject of this grand experiment was shipped rapidly up to this laboratory on the /Dark Presence/ by members of the cult on the world below. The procedure was simple, remove the remains of Drax's stump for an arm at the shoulder and replace it with a new one, alchemically enhanced and twisted to match Drax's DNA so that it wouldn't be rejected and in addition to that add something the the genetic soup that would alter the Alderaanian forever. Blood drains from the table where the work is done as the Dark Lord examines his subject after a removal of the stump, a pair of droids aiding in the procedure, "Bring me specimen, thirteen-A." he states plainly examining the freshly cut flesh and using the Force to line up nerve endings and arteries, it was more sure than science in Malign's opinion. A metallic box is placed at a side table in front of the Sith Lord lined with frost from its freezing in a chamber waiting, "This was made for you, my sleeping friend." The Dark Lord smiles opening the chamber to reveal an arm, pale and tattooed with Sith runes. With a gesture of his will the arm floats from the box and he turns to examine the nerves and arteries that would need to be connected and mentally moves them to line up appropriate before moving the arm in place, "Prepare for the attachment procedure." the Dark Lord orders as the droids hand him a pair of tools and a device to magnify his sight. After several moments all of the nerves and arteries are attached and the final sealing of the wound along with a bacta patch is wrapped around it even though the discoloration was going to be obvious. Silently, Tantrix steps forward from the shadows and bows, "You have done well my puppet come forward and serve your master once more." Without hesitation Tantrix steps forward and Malign grasps the man's forehead with one hand and the new arm of Drax's with another and begins to concentrate. Slowly, Tantrix seems to grow weaker and more feeble as energy flows from the man into the arm, "I need your life-force to start the reactions in his arm, to make my genetic material to spread through his body more rapidly." he hisses as Tantrix falls backward lifeless to the ground, "I need another one!" he yells to a droid. The process is repeated, several times, and before long there were ten dead bodies laying around the surgical table before the Sith Lord and Drax as he leans back exhausted, "Now wake him." he orders the droids who mix the drug compounds in an IV. It had been ages since Drax had last been near any sort of medical building. The closest he had come to anesthesia over the last few years was half a bottle of brandy while another man made feeble attempts at mending his wounds in some rundown shack on Tatooine. Despite this, he had spent enough time in more professional hands to know what it was like to awaken from a drugged stupor. The stimulants now coursing through his veins set to work and it is only moments later that the two slits on his face begin to widen enough for a blurred image to present itself to the man. After a few rapid blinks, the image begins to focus so that the Alderaanian can make out the smooth. As the drugs used to sedate him were still potent enough to keep the man from having his full brainpower at his disposal, Drax still knew that something was amiss. There was a sensation coming from his right arm that was far different from any phantom pain he had ever experienced before. It extended far beyond his shoulder, which was supposed to be cleared of any technological traces by the operation. It was as if his nonexistent arm were submerged in some sort of icy fire that was chilling the rest of his body. A hoarse groan is emitted from the man's throat as he attempts to reach over and rub at the nub of his shoulder. "What? Where am I?" His voice, as well, is hoarse from lack of use, which the starfighter pilot attempts to remedy by coughing. As more of the stimulants make their way through his system, he begins to sober. When his hand finds an arm, a real arm, attached to his body, his head snaps to the side to look at it, his eyes widening in amazement and a few expletives slipping in quietly under his breath. Standing in the corner in his black cloak Malign watches as Drax awakens and he nods quietly, "The truth will set you free, Drax Rendolen." he states stepping from the shadows, "I must say I am impressed with your resolve and your ability to ride and bend the waves of destiny to your will. Everything, Tantrix taught you is true, you must come to terms with truth and reality and your chains will be broken and free your spirit." Malign now stands before the pilot at the edge of the bed, "You see that arm, is my gift to you, a form of apology for how everything at Selene happened. What matters is your life was indeed traded as part of our agreement and Drew was saved. What you forgot is that your life still belongs to my service. The arm is from me, he touches his right arm, you see I cloned this one. So you are wearing a part of me." The Sith smiles, "Oh it gets more complicated." he steps back. "What came with the arm is both a gift and a burden, my genetic material is now altering your DNA in your entire body. You see, in effect we are brothers now in ever sort of the word." he smiles darkly, "It took a lot of energy to make the reaction where my enzymes and proto-genes began to attach themselves to yours but now you are truly a Damion and are part of my family heritage as much as your own." Malign smiles, "The truth is, Drax, you are tied to the legacy of the Sith like all those who serve me, and you are going to help me bring a dictated galactic peace to the universe. I am going to sculpt a new universe, a new galaxy. We are going to uncover all the truths in this universe, you, me, Axel, Malif. We are the future and our minds will come together to form a galaxy where all children can live in harmony." He waves a hand, "Flaws will be flushed out with the pursuit of truth. The first truth!" he declares loudly, "Is that I am a very bad man, but wield a very holy and right cause." The feeling that something is terribly wrong is amplified as a familiar voice echoes in the laboratory. Drax's head spins in the man's direction as he continues to speak and he finds himself unable to do anything but shake his head in disbelief. His eyes drop to the Sith's arm before he looks to his own, holding it in front of himself to move his new fingers and turn the hand around and stare at the runes tattooed into his skin. Drax's eyes widen with anger as he hears about the catch that has come with this tremendous gift. The anger that was apparent on the Alderaanian's face begins to disappear and is replaced by horror as the man continues to describe just what has transpired. The black ops agent shakes his head more emphatically now and reaches over to the IV in his one arm to rip it out before rolling to the side and off of the table. The twisted, deceased form of Tantrix, the man Drax had come to respect and trust, greets him from the floor. The very sight of it sends the man scurrying away frantically while still unable to take his eyes off of him. His movement is ended as he hits yet another body and now he looks at each of them in horror. In his chest, his heart is racing while he is starting to breath heavily. "This isn't happening... I am a pure blooded Alderaanian!" His heritage was all that Drax truly had from his past that he could look to with pride, even if he hadn't lived up to the peaceful lifestyle typical of his people. He rolls over on his side, lying at the foot of the bed amongst those who were used to create this "miracle." Continuing to breathe heavily, the man simply stares at the ceiling. He wanted to run for the door to try and find the nearest way out of... wherever he now was, but finds he just doesn't have the will to move. After all these years, it had finally happened. He was broken. "A very bad man, eh? Well, I guess you've got me beat there." Saying something had managed to help him calm himself as he shifts back to sit up against the bed, examining the new hand once again. "As much as I want to be mad at you, I can't. You simply played your part. I planned for it..." Drax's neck goes slack and he lets his head drop back to hit the side of the bed, finally resting there. "The sick truth is that it may well be that only the Sith have the stomach to do what is needed to bring peace back." Malign watches the man's reaction with a measured expression. Silently he steps forward and bends down to close Tantrix's eyes, "He served his purpose." he says quietly and almost reverently. He waves a hand as the bodies used in the animation process are bagged by a pair of droids and gently moved to one side of the room a few, including Tantrix, stored in a specimen stasis tube. His hardened rusted, yellow eyes turn briefly to look at Drax, "There is nothing sick about the truth Drax. Facts are just that and you are right, only the Sith have the stomach to do what is necessary and needed to bring peace to our broken galaxy. You see, I have taken the next step and took a former enemy and transformed him into my family. You are still Alderaanian, but now you are also Damion and therefore Sith." The Dark Lord turns now to face the Alderaanian stretching up to full height, dark energy pouring from his hardened figure, "Drax Rendolen, bow to your new Master, because I am taking you on as my apprentice. I will teach you all the secrets of the Sith and together with our agents we will build a galaxy that will accept our peace." The Sith Lord steps back silently, "The white robes are your tool now. Your tool to aid our organization. Your service to the NRI will become our weapon, and you will lead a religion that will expand and bring peace and justice to the galaxy. The mantel of Tantrix, is now yours and you will lead the Theocratic Republic of Truth in his stead through a puppet or on your own." Malign smiles briefly. "Like it or not, I have reached into the murky mist of fate and selected you among trillions because you and I are alike. Victims of tragedy and broken by strife and war. We are the same, you and I. So our sacrifices match and our solutions will be what answers all galactic problems. With that arm take up your post with feeling, flesh, emotion, and live for the moment. However, never lose sight of our true goals. Be vigilant to help our organization, and in effect help shape it and the galaxy." Silently Malign reaches into his cloak and pulls an amulet from it and pitches it to the feet of Drax, "Wear this with the pride it deserves, but hide it when you are beyond our borders." When his name is spoken aloud, Drax looks to Malign and his eyes lock onto him with the same intensity he had when on the tail of a TIE fighter in the thick of a dogfight. His new, runed hand stretches out and accepts the amulet, letting it and its chain pool in the palm of his hand while marveling at the way it felt. The sensations he had felt from his prosthetics were similar, but they were just never quite right. It was like eating leftovers from a fantastic restaurant. Sure, it was still good, but it could never compare to being fresh. His eyes close for a moment as he makes an attempt at processing everything that is happening around him, all the while knowing this had just turned into another one of those decisions where he had traded the very last part of his very being, just to save his skin. He could see Leia on the day that he had been given this mission, telling him he needed a purpose. How right she was. "Logistically, I don't know how NRI would react to me taking a public role at the top of the religion. A proper puppet will be necessary. Based on my gut feeling of things. It might be wise for me to make more of a push to finally accept promotions within NRI to dig in deeper there." As his eyelids pull back, they reveal is eyes, which are staring exactly where they had been before shifting to the ground in front of him. Drax pulls the amulet over his neck and straightens it a hair before leaning forward to pull away from the bed, finally coming to a rest at his knees before the other man. He takes in a breath and looks up once again, "I am honored that you have chosen me--" His voice cuts out as he has difficulty continuing the sentence. It was the final word that would sign his name to this verbal contract. "...Master. I will do what is asked of me and I am honored to receive your teaching." The Sith Lord nods, "Very well, a puppet should be established. You are entrusted to the religion now. It is vital that the transition in the religion be smooth and thoughtful. We will have to generate a story about Tantrix, or simply replace him with an impostor." he says simply. Malign reigns in his perception and concentration for a moment to probe the air for mistrust or doubt, no doubt there was a lot for Drax to process for now and he decides it would be best for him to reflect on what was happening. The Sith Lord shrugs, "You have had a busy day, you can rest here on the ship or return to Trandosha to the Citadel. Take a few days to study the materials you were given access to on the world below." he presents a datapad, "And read this. The mantra of the Sith and our organization here you must be prepared to serve and lead when necessary. You are a trusted individual here, do not fail." With a gesture the datapad is left and the Dark Lord sweeps his cloak around his armored figure and retreats from the laboratory. A pair of droids flank the Alderaanian prepared to follow his instructions and lead him to his desired location. Elan enjoys the Southern New Year celebration under Hinjo's nose. Now at last my dream is real I found peace True love can heal On the journey throughout time A new beginning has arrived At the crossroad of my life This new love keeps me alive I never knew that this could happen to me So many lonely days and nights I never knew that you were waiting for me Hope was out of sight And suddenly I see the future clearly No longer living in the past As I let go Living the dream Of my life I was alone - no one in sight This love - make me believe that you're the one Never give up - our day has come I never knew that this could happen to me So many lonely days and nights I never knew that you were waiting for me Hope was out of sight And suddenly I see the future clearly No longer living in the past As I let go Living the dream Of my Life I was alone - no one in sight This love I'll never throw it all away Now that you're in my life to stay "New Beginnings" is the 720th episode of Casualty and the 34th episode of the 24th series. New Beginnings is a short story written by user Chicken Bond for Toa Hydros and his storyline. It takes place during and shortly after the Raid on Artakha, and shows the creation of Henarck and how he eventually became part of the Society of Guardians. Terrified screams echoed down a long, narrow corridor. Screams riddled with fear and horror, as another tremor shook the fortress. Stones of indescribable age fell from the ceiling, clashing against the floor and splitting, coughing up a thick cloud of dust. Amongst the confusion of the chaos and destruction strode two beings, one a tall, winged, four-armed monstrosity, the other, a male Vortixx, carrying a bladed spear. Both walked with an air of confidence and relaxation, giving off an impression that the havoc being wrought around them was nothing new to their eyes. As the corridor’s foundation continued to wail and groan, a bronze set of double-sided doors entered view. The larger being smiled sinisterly. Their objective was near. The two beings continued their pace until they stood directly in front of the doors. With a powerful swipe from his arm, the larger being knocked down the doors. His companion looked at him with a combination of awe, fear, and respect. “Y-your skills in combat are very refined, master Kojol. Tell me, do we near the Kanohi Avohkii?” Kojol’s crimson eyes shifted to meet his accomplice’s gaze. “Indeed we are. If my knowledge is correct, the Avohkii should be stashed somewhere in this room.” The Vortixx shifted his gaze to the now exposed room in front of them; a massive spherical-like chamber littered with uncompleted inventions, weapons, tools and more; all of which were aligned on a number of towering shelves. “The question is,” continued Kojol. “Where do we start?” The Makuta of Artakha and his assistant strode into the room, weak sunlight reflecting off their armor, channeled through large panels of glass on the ceiling. Kojol had been through much this day. The Brotherhood had decided to organize a raid on the island of Artakha for the recently created Mask of Light. Teridax had requested a subtle operation, an unnoticeable theft, though Kojol had thought otherwise. Artakha was a large region, filled with numerous defense mechanisms and traps waiting to spring on potential intruders. Rather than risk such a time-consuming covert operation, Kojol had decreed that a full-scale invasion was in order, an invasion that was, at this point, going ahead well. Though his first wave of Visorak, Exo-Toa, and Rahkshi had been crushed, Kojol had successfully launched a second wave against the residents of Artakha. And this time, they had broke through. Kojol rummaged through the contents of the shelves, trying to locate the mask the Brotherhood craved, yet no such luck turned his way. The Makuta roared in fury, slamming his fist against the shelf with all his might in anger. He was not in the mood for a long, tiring search. The shelf wobbled uncontrollably, before colliding with another, then another, and another. Finally the last shelf slammed against one of the nearby brick walls, causing the structure to crumble entirely. Kojol’s Vortixx ally widened his eyes in shock; because hidden behind the very wall that had just collapsed, was a shrine-like room containing a small, metallic box. The servant ran towards it, and almost effortlessly, ripped the lid off. “What do you see?” demanded Kojol. His assistant didn’t reply. Instead he turned to face his master with a surprised face as he raised his left arm to reveal the Kanohi Avohkii in his hand. Kojol chuckled. “Excellent! Our mission has finally been completed.” “Or so you think,” cried a new, intimidating voice. Kojol turned around to see a mighty, 10 foot tall figure standing before him, his body clad in dark green and gray armor. In one hand, he carried a large scythe; it’s metal surfacing gleaming in the sunlight. The tool had obviously been freshly plucked out of a weapons forge. On his face, he wore a mask of beautiful and intricate design. A masterpiece of craftsmanship from time's past long ago. “Artakha,” muttered Kojol. “I did not expect to see you on the battlefield.” Artakha perched his head menacingly, the angular slits of his great Mask of Creation giving off a strong feel of menace. “Give me the Avohkii, Makuta. Call off your army, before I’m forced to ensure that they return to Destral without a leader. Your master would not be pleased with that.” Kojol laughed hard. “If you really think that I would surrender the greatest threat and weapon posed to the Brotherhood to someone like you, then you are deeply mistaken.” “By who’s authority do have the right to steal it from me, let alone invade my land?” demanded Artakha, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, as another tremor shook the fortress. "By who's law?" "By the authority of the Brotherhood of Makuta, of course. By the law of the Makuta!" roared Kojol. "You cannot win this one, Artakha. You are a relic of the past. A relic of a time long since gone. An exile. Surrender now, before I'm forced to raze this island." Artakha assumed a fighting stance. “No, Kojol, I will not. You will have to go through my power first before you claim that mask. Do you believe you can face a foe that was old when the universe was young?” Kojol chuckled lightly. “You are so misguided, Artakha. Now… meet your fate!” Kojol launched himself into the air, and with an unpredicted speed for one with such a bulky form as Kojol, angled his wings and plunged straight at Artakha. The ancient creator had little time to react, and was dealt a blow that sent him flying across the atrium until he made a solid impact against one of the far walls with a horrible cracking sound. When the dust cleared, Kojol could see that Artakha had been blasted halfway through the wall. Kojol laughed mockingly, and turned to face his fearful servant. Kojol's eyes were cold and empty when they met his servant's, a mere pit blackness and emptiness. A void of oblivion. “Stay out of this until I give the command, Vortixx. I will deal with him personally.” The Vortixx nodded and backed off into the far corner of the room, not wishing to get caught in the crossfire between these two powerful warriors. Kojol turned to face Artakha at the sound of him brushing rock dust and fragments off his shoulders. The Makuta charged forward to meet the legendary ruler, priming his sword as his weapon clashed with Artakha’s scythe. The two parried blows for seven seconds, neither being able to break past each other’s defenses, until Kjol swiped at Artakha with one of his clawed hands, forcing Artakha back a few steps. Kojol then fired a blast of Shadow energy from his clawed hand directly at Artakha. In that instant, the world abruptly blurred for a second, and when Kojol’s sight cleared, he noticed Artakha was gone. Kojol looked around frantically for his foe until he realized the problem. There was one corner of the room that he was not looking in. He tried to face it, but his mind instinctively told him not to. The Makuta ignored the strong cries of his mind and looked in the right-hand corner of the room, and there, he saw Artakha. “Nice trick,” began Kojol. “A nice combination of teleportation and metal manipulation. Who knew you had it in you to try and conceal yourself by telepathically shrouding yourself from my perception? It would have worked on a normal being, but on a Makuta…” Kojol raised his hand. “Not a chance.” Kojol then fired a powerful blast of Sonics in conjunction with his Accuracy powers. The combination was deadly, and it hit Artakha dead on in the chest. Taking advantage of this distraction, Kojol leapt forward and parried with Artakha’s scythe. “You’re even worse than a visually-impaired Exo-Toa! Perhaps, you should just accept that your day is over, old one. Greater forces have emerged to subside the weak from the strong, and your time has come to be divided from your acclaimed and mythological power.” Artakha did not reply. Instead, he raised his arm and bowed his head with his eyes shut tightly. An obvious sign he was concentrating. Before Kojol could realize what he was doing, a wave of excruciating pain washed over Kojol’s mind. He instantly clutched the cranium of his head as the pain gradually increased. He fell to his knees as he began to take sharp gasps of air. The pain was so much that Kojol was even able to see Artakha charge forward and hit Kojol with a powerful swipe from his scythe that sent him flying back several meters through the massive hall. Kojol lay on the floor and groaned as the pain in his head faded. Artakha approached him slowly as he twirled his weapon in his armored hands. His pace stopped when he standing directly over the battered Makuta. “Do you have any last words, traitor?” “Only one,” grunted Kojol. “NOW!” In that second, Kojol’s servant darted forward, raising his spear and channeling its mighty powers at Artakha. The orange bolt struck the mighty ruler, and instantly a horrific sensation washed over him. Artakha dropped to his knees, trying his best to tolerate the pain. He felt is essence shifting; splitting, as if a part of himself was trying to rip itself free from his body. Finally, the pain was too much, and Artakha let out a scream that shook the very foundation of the room. Kojol covered his ears in shock at the sound of the mighty, supersonic wail. Then, the screaming stopped and Artakha slumped to the ground, unconscious. It was not the pain the Spear caused that had rendered Artakha out cold, it was more the fact that due to the effects of the blast, a new green and gray armored being lay on the floor beside Artakha, fresh smoke rising from his body. The being was similar to the ancient ruler, yet different in every respect at the same time. For starters, the being looked much more youthful than Artakha, and was roughly the same height of a Toa. Kojol stared at the being for several seconds, his face contorted with confusion and fascination. Then he turned to face his Vortixx ally, only to find him lying dead on the floor, warm steam rising from his body. Kojol chuckled lightly. Obviously the foolish Vortixx had not been able to use his weapon properly, and as a result, its mighty powers had a backlash at him, and killed him. Not to worry. He was merely another pawn in the Brotherhood's game. Kojol’s gaze turned to the Spear of Fusion. It was a dangerous yet useful tool, one he shouldn’t let fall into hands of his enemies. Perhaps Teridax would know where to hide it, only time would tell. The Makuta then twirled the spear and raised it over his head as he began to initiate the beginning stage of a killing blow. Aiming at Artakha’s neck, Kojol began to bring the blade down when he was suddenly forced away by the impact of a massive blizzard. Kojol ran behind one of the room’s towering shelves as he looked around for the source of this bizarre weather condition. As the temperature began to drop even further, Kojol growled as he realized the cause of the commotion. Artakha had obviously been very clever when installing this particular defense mechanism into the room, which apparently reacted when its maker was sufficiently harmed by an external, hostile force. He could barely see anymore, and the blizzard was too powerful to allow him to make his way back to Artakha and the thing. Though he wanted to stay and finish Artakha off, he knew he couldn’t. His forces were already beginning to wither out at the hands of the island’s numerous devices and booby traps, and he knew he would have to pull back soon. He had his primary objective: the Mask of Light, meaning there was no real need to remain on this island further. Besides, the temperature of this room had already dropped dramatically, and Kojol could feel his essence slowly beginning to freeze. And so, if a little reluctantly, the Makuta of Artakha then departed as another mighty quake shook the fortress' foundation; in one hand, the Spear of Fusion, in the other, the gleaming mask that was the Kanohi Avohkii. Henarck roared as he parried his blade with that of his enemy’s. Again, he would attempt a stabbing maneuver, a parry, a block, and then another strike. All of these moves seemed to be countered by his foe, whose sly face continued to echo mockery. Henarck growled furiously as he attempted to disarm his enemy, though was so focused on his offensive strikes that he failed to realize the gap he had left in his defense. With one clean strike, Henarck’s enemy had knocked the warrior’s sword out of his grip, and sent a kick that sent him tumbling to the ground. Henarck looked up with bitter contempt as his enemy chuckled lightly, his orange eyes exposing every hint of enjoyment. “You have been challenging me for hours now, Henarck; and yet victory has yet to come your way. Perhaps it is time I finish this little farce off here and…” His enemy suddenly paused mid-sentence at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and turned to stare upon a high platform where Artakha stood, his eyes glaring with a mix of fatigue, concern and calm. “I think that will be enough for today… Toa Skydrax.” Suddenly, the enemy’s appearance altered, shifting into the form of a tall, lean Toa of Air equipped with a menacing double-bladed sword and claws. “As you wish, Artakha,” He replied coolly. Henarck rose to his feet and stared first at Artakha, then at Skydrax. The Order of Mata Nui liaison had been specifically requested to train Henarck in combat, using his Kanohi Makiti to shape-shift into various beings. For this lesson, Henarck had been forced to battle Skydrax in the form of the famous Lepidian bounty hunter Raduke. Without another word, the Toa turned and exited the grandiose chamber through one of the far doors. Once gone, Henarck turned to Artakha with a look of annoyance and desperation. “Brother, if you had just let me spar for a while longer, I would have succeeded in defeating Skydrax!” Artakha let a tired, weary sigh escape his lips. "I doubt it, my brother. Skydrax is a powerful warrior, and not one to be taken lightly. Believe me, if I can be defeated by Makuta Kojol, then I'm sure you would stand no chance against the likes of a warrior as skilled as Skydrax or Raduke." “Have you forgotten that had it not been for Kojol’s raid, I would never have existed? I am you, after all; or at least, a part of you.” Artakha walked down from his platform and strode straight towards Henarck, and only stopped his pace when their masks were nearly touching. "No, Henarck I have not forgotten the day when Kojol stole the Avohkii, and I was most pleased when the Order of Mata Nui finally eliminated him. His very power created you: a being forged from my very essence. However..." Artakha cut off as he turned away to look at one of the far walls. "You are not 'me,' Henarck. A part of me, perhaps, but not me. You don't act, think, look, or even walk like me." “Then what am I to you?” demanded Henarck, rage slowly bubbling within him. "What am I in your eyes?" Artakha paused for a moment; his tired, old eyes sinking into a weary sadness. “I see you…. as a reflection, Henarck. A reflection of who I could have been, had my life journey been different or taken a different turn.” Henarck scowled nastily. “Is that all I am? A reminder of person you couldn’t be or become? Is that it?!” Artakha turned to face Henarck again, his eyes glinting with a faint air of intimidating menace. “You are a representation of someone I could have been, yet in the end, did not become. You are young, reckless, energetic, and a warrior, not to mention childish on occasion. A polar opposite to me. I am old, patient, settled, and weary. We are two different people, Henarck: I am the person that came to be, you are the person I could have been had my life taken a different twist.” There was a long pause. Both Artakha and Henarck glared at each other daringly, neither willing to back down from a potential argument. Finally, however, Artakha broke off from the argument and walked off towards one of the far doors. “Now if you excuse me, my…. Brother. I have matters to discuss with Skydrax. I trust you will use this time to rest up and think about your next duel. I will see you later.” And then, without another word, Artakha was gone. Henarck strode down one of the many corridors of Artakha’s fortress. Night had fallen over the island of Artakha. His foul mood, however, had not changed in the slightest since his conversation with Artakha. Childish? he thought. Childish? CHILDISH!? I am not childish! If I was, I would neither have the strength nor courage to be where I am today. If I hear another degrading thing come out Artakha’s mouth I’ll... I’ll… Henarck’s thoughts trailed off at the sound of loud conversation echoing down the next corridor. Henarck sprinted down to edge of the corridor, and peaked around the next turn. He could here two voices: one belonging to Skydrax, the other to Artakha. The two were standing outside the grand doors of Artakha’s personal chambers. “How have the Order’s efforts been to remove all those alive with the knowledge of my island's location?” asked Artakha. “They have been strained,” replied Skydrax. “It’s been a difficult to eliminate all these people. Not because we’re having difficulty removing them, but simply because we’re having difficulty tracking down all these beings because there are so few of them, in all honesty. Only a select few know of the location of this place. Fortunately, I hear Tobduk's efforts to eliminate them have been very successful, nonetheless.” Artakha nodded slowly, a look of deep thought and contemplation on his face. “And how are things… within the Society?” asked Artakha, his voice no louder than a whisper. There was pause. Finally, Skydrax spoke up again. “Things are… edgy. We haven’t been able to seek out even a small trace of Verahk in months. We have several people suspected of being associated with him under our watch, though we don’t have any solid evidence to imply they are in fact his minions.” An expression of sheer confusion decorated Henarck’s face. Who was this Society? Who was Verahk? What was Skydrax and Artakha’s connections to all this? So many questions, yet many he feared would never be answered in his lifetime. “Well, I’m afraid I need to be off, Artakha. Krataka will be expecting my latest report, and I should be departing. Though don’t worry, I’ll be back to train the kid soon.” “Very well, then. Until we meet again…” Artakha turned away and opened the doors to his chamber. Without a second glance at the Toa of Air beside him, Artakha entered his rooms and closed the double doors behind him. Skydrax simply stared at the spot where Artakha had once been standing for a total of two seconds before turning in the opposite direction and pulling out his Protosteel sword. Henarck watched curiously. What was this all about? His mind could only wonder. Abruptly, Skydrax whipped his blade forward in some kind of slicing motion. As he performed this movement, the blade seemed to cut a tear into the air itself, and as swiftly as the tear had appeared, the cut expanded to form a large, circular portal, large enough to fit a Toa-sized being in it. Skydrax strode forward and entered the portal, his motions fluid and graceful as he did so, suggesting he was accustomed to these strange occurrences. Henarck’s eyes widened. It was some kind of inter-dimensional portal! As soon as he had passed through, the portal began shrink dramatically, and a puff of sharp, cloud-like energy, that was purple in color, began radiating from the trimming outskirts of the portal. Henarck had to make his mind up: Either he could stay here and not have his questions answered, or he could venture off into the unknown and try to find them out, or at least something close. His decision was made in less than a microsecond. As the portal grew smaller, Henarck ran around the corner and charged with all his might at the opening. I'm not going to make it! Henarck thought to himself. The portal was now so small, even a Matoran would have difficulty trying to get through. However, Henarck was not one to give up. As the narrowing portal grew smaller and smaller, Henarck leapt forward and dived through the inter-spacial gap mere seconds before it closed completely, shifting and twisting his body to ensure that the lower half of his body would not get cut off and left in his native world. His chance to rejoice was brief, however. Now, he found himself plunging violently through inter-dimensional space at high speeds. Deeper and deeper he fell through the bizarre void between different worlds, and his fall only grew shakier as his speed increased further; he was spinning wildly out of control. Henarck closed his eyes as he plunged through a bright, white opening in space, which was followed by an instant of deep darkness. Henarck slowly opened his eyes again, his mind a blur, and his head dizzy. The metal floor he was now lying on was surprisingly warm. Summoning his remaining strength, Henarck drearily got his feet and scanned his new surroundings. The first thing that became apparent was that he was no longer in Artakha’s fortress. In fact, it was apparent that he was not on the island of Artakha at all. At this present moment, Henarck was standing in a large, empty hall with numerous Kanohi masks and weapons lining the walls of the chamber, many with designs Henarck had never seen before. As he continued to speculate his location, a strange, echoing voice spoke to him. Take it easy there, my friend. You just partook in an unusually rough ride through dimensional space. Hopefully you didn’t suffer too much damage. Henarck instantly spun around in search for the owner of the voice, though the room was empty. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” “Whoever you are, I ask you to show yourself!” barked Henarck again. Had anyone else been in the room, they would have been under the assumption that Henarck was completely mad. Many people usually thought that when they saw others having half-conversations with thin air. At that instant, a grand set of double doors spontaneously opened, apparently of their own accord. Cautiously, Henarck passed through the doors and into the corridor beyond it. He walked out into what expected to be a small corridor, which actually turned out to be a massive, complex hallway filled with an uncountable number of doors, many of which being on different levels and plaforms. He walked lowly down the massive, atrium-like corridor, his nervous feelings reflected in his cautious strides. This “corridor” was absolutely massive, and there were way too many doorways to even consider passing through. To add to the complexity of this place, many other smaller corridors were forking off from this one, making navigation around this place even more confusing. It felt as if there was more than four hundred twist and turns to this single corridor than there were on the entire island of Artakha. He was just beginning to speculate that the voice he had just heard was a figment of his imagination when it suddenly spoke to him again. “Shut up,” Henarck muttered to himself, uncertainty and nervousness mingled in his tone. As instructed, Henarck approached the fifth door on the right-hand side of the hall, and after five seconds of hesitation, pushed his way through the entrance and into the next room. What stood out the most from the previous rooms he had just been through was that there were actual people in this room. What unnerved him was the fact that he absolutely had no idea who these beings were. There were four of them in total standing in the room, each different in appearance as they were in characteristic. The person on the far right was a tall being bearing silver and black armor, with a matching pair of razor-sharp claws. His dark orange eyes seemed to gleam as bright as the forges of Artakha themselves, a notion which also seemed expose a blazing well of emotion behind this one’s calm disguise of cold detachment. The being standing next to him was a different thing entirely. He was completely covered in silver and gray livery, which was in a design that was both totally alien to Henarck, yet strangely familiar at the same time. He was roughly the same size as a Toa, and wore a mask that seemed to have been carved in the likeness of the Kanohi Ignika, the legendary Mask of Life. For such a bizarre-looking warrior, he did not seem to give off an intimidating presence, but rather, a feel of warmth and wisdom and knowledge. The being standing on the left was very tall, standing roughly about eight feet in height. Like the being on the far right, he too was adorned in silver and black armor, though his eyes were lime-green in color. Though he did not look particularly menacing, he looked powerful enough to pose a challenge. Henarck, however, decided he was not the sort to fight, but instead, his very stance suggested that he was more a philosopher than a warrior. Then there was the person standing in the center of these people, who was perhaps the strangest of them all. He was obviously a Toa, but the coloring and design of his mask and armor was something he had never seen before. His body was colored in shades of gold, silver, gray, black, and yellow. He looked a unique and well-seasoned warrior, but when Henarck dared meet this one’s very gaze he saw something completely different. He saw old eyes. He saw eyes that looked like they had been made to seen terrible things over and over again, and had eventually grown tired of such sights. They burned like the sun, yet even Henarck could see the fatigue and weariness that lay in their depths. They blazed with an aura of experience and power; and what those eyes were currently looking at, right now, was him. “Thank you, Mersery, for guiding Henarck here. I almost feared he was going to lose himself in the depths of our home.” “Who are you!?” demanded Henarck, fearfully. “Identify yourselves!” “Of course,” began the Toa, a friendly smile curving on the lips of his golden Hau. “My name is Krataka. And these two on my right, are Atukam and Ignika Nui, and on my left is Mersery. We have been expecting you for some time.” “Where am I?” asked Henarck fearfully. “What do you want from me?” "Now, take it easy," said the one named Ignika Nui. "Take a deep breath, and let us talk to you. You just took a very rough trip through dimensional space. It's very dangerous to tail after a fellow traveler when they have already passed through a portal. Fortunately, neither you nor Skydrax were injured in the journey, the latter of which shall be arriving soon." “You haven’t answered my question,” growled Henarck. “Where am I? And why am I here?” There was a long pause. Finally, Atukam spoke up. “You are within the depths of the Fortress of Ages, the headquarters of our organization: the Society of Guardians.” “I’ve never heard of you,” replied Henarck. “I’m not surprised,” said Krataka. “Very few outside of our organization know of our existence. Not even members of the Order of Mata Nui know we exist, apart from those who are actually part of our group. This absolute secrecy allows us to operate more flexibly than other organizations. But now, onto the matter of your presence here. You were brought here because…” Henarck couldn’t take this anymore. It was too much to take in, his head was swimming. Before Krataka could finish his sentence, Henarck sprinted out the room and straight down the corridor, Krataka bolted off after him until he reached the open doorway. “Henarck, wait!” he called out. But Henarck wasn’t listening. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t want his answers anymore. He didn’t want to know what this Society did and why they did it. He just wanted to go home. Henarck spun around the next corner and sprinted up to the closest door and passed through it. Once inside he closed it shut, locked the door, and leaned against it, panting heavily from the great run he had just enacted. “And where do you think you’re going?” asked a familiar voice. Henarck looked up to see none other than Toa Skydrax himself standing before him, his cool aura ever present on his battle-hardened expression. "Skydrax?!" Henarck began. "What is going on? Please, I just want to go home!" “And what is home to you?” asked another familiar voice. As the world began to blur before Henarck’s eyes for a second, the mighty form of Artakha materialized before him. Henarck was speechless. How could Artakha be involved in all this? “What are you doing here, Artakha? I don’t understand what is going on?” At that point, the door behind him unlocked, and Krataka, Atukam, Ignika Nui, and Mersery entered the room to stand beside Artakha and Skydrax. Artakha then chose this moment to speak. “It was easy to figure out you had come to this place when no one within Artakha was able to tell me your whereabouts. And as to what is going on, Henarck, this is your recruitment.” “Recruitment?” asked Henarck. “Recruitment into what?! You don’t mean this… this… Society?” “Indeed I do. I have been an ally of theirs for some time now, Henarck. Now be quiet, I need to talk to you.” There was another short pause before Artakha finally resumed his speech. “Since the very moment I learned of the nature of your existence, I swore to myself to take care of you to the best of my ability. I have tried to train you as a warrior, to better protect our land from external threats such as the Makuta. I have tried to allow you to sow roots of your amongst my realm and home, but sadly, I haven’t been able to train and care for you properly.” Henarck looked into Artakha’s eyes. Behind their looks of regret and sorrow, he could also see something that resembled guilt. Was it guilt for not being able to manage Henarck properly? Or was it because he had allowed Henarck to be created in the first place? “As hard as it is me for me to accept this,” continued Artakha. “I have failed to establish you into the world properly. I have never been one to mentor and guide others over lifetimes, and I certainly am unable to now. I am… sorry, Henarck. But I am simply incapable of building you a life within the boundaries of my land. I tried, I really did try, but my realm was always too small to contain your energy and ambitions. That is where the Society came in. They knew you could become something great, something better, so myself and Krataka began preparing you for this very moment of truth.” Henarck did not know how to feel. Sorry? Angry? Guilty? None of those emotions seemed suitable for this situation. “You have always been seeking a bigger and better life, Henarck,” Artakha said. “And now I offer you the opportunity to have that life. Join the Society of Guardians, my brother. Adventure into the deep realms of the unknown, see the things even I will never be able to see, and right the injustices that so many have wrought.” There was silence. Henarck considered. He faced the opportunity to go back to Artakha, the only place he knew in the universe (and also the place he considered home), and continue to live out his life normally. Or he could allow himself to be incepted into this strange, new organization. He could embrace a new world, a new life, a new home. His decision was made up in seconds. The answer to this offer came to him in a flash. “Very well,” he began with smile. “I’m in. But before we start discussing the nature of my recruitment, I want to know exactly what you do, why you do what you do, what your goals are, and where my new room will be in this massive fortress of yours.” Krataka grinned cheerfully. Even Artakha allowed a satisfied, yet sad, smile to decorate his wizened face. “Of course, of course, Henarck. The Society of Guardians was formed several centuries ago to combat the concealed threat of Makuta Verahk. We have made it our primary goal to hunt him down because of the countless atrocities he has committed. Our operations are so small, that even factions like the Order of Mata Nui cannot detect us. We…” Krataka’s words just trailed off into Henarck’s mind. Right now, none of it mattered. A wide smiled stretched across his face. It was a new start for him, a new dawn. In fact, he would even go as far to call it a series of… New Beginnings. New Beginnings is the 3rd episode of S4 of The End Of My Soul, this episode was directed by David Duchovny. This episode is about Pearl Krabs and her friends talk to SpongeBob about the events after he jumped in the portal. This episode marks the return of Alex Kyreck. Mr. X gets killed off in this episode. A short story, written by Kaitlyn, about the forming of the Black Star. New Beginnings is a type of number one contender tournament which takes place in the month(s) of January and sometimes December in the Fearless Championship Wrestling. Many generations after ThunderClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan and WindClan are long gone, SkyClan, WaterClan, DarkClan, and AirClan now rule the forest in new territory. This story follows my role playing characters: Shimmerpool, Firestorm, Lionclaw, Tigerstripe, and Jayflight on how they came to the forest. Also how they grow up. This is the first book of the series I made. Editing tested by noone Seasonal shop run by Jane, open from March 1st to May 31st. It sells spring themed costume-like apparel. File:JaneSpring.png The first silvered tongues of the Kalimdor morning breached the mist shrouded pines of the Draenei’s new home, and the world awoke to a new, precious day. Pavla Illaris sat down in the dew-wetted grass, closed her eyes, and lifted her face towards the sun with a smile. She lost herself here each morning in the deep rumblings of the earth and whispers of the wind – the very breath of the world itself. She could feel each soothing intake and the reluctant exhale. The breath of convalescence; of a world mending itself after the great tragedy of the Legion’s second invasion. It was easy and rhythmic, nothing like the tortured and ragged inhalations of the shattered Draenor. Here she could feel life and growth, and not the tortured imprints of a world broken and her own people mercilessly slaughtered. The life in this world made her feel alive. She opened her eyes and stared into the mists, her thoughts drifting back towards the mundane. Things of lesser importance, as her mother would say. Selfish things. Irregardless, this new world was an opportunity for her. Gone were the days of ceaseless war, of fear that the next dawn would be your last, and of old orthodoxies and old ways. Before her lay a new world, its heart only lightly touched by the taint that had destroyed her old home. Azeroth was not beyond repair, and there were those who she knew were setting themselves to that very task. The spirits were seductive, and she knew that they pushed her towards this course that she now found herself on. They whispered in visions of recent tragedies in the lands she knew of only from those few soldiers of the Alliance Expedition who had survived the sundering of her homeland, but they also hinted at changes within the ranks of the hated Orcs and of peoples and lands she could only imagine in her dreams. Nothing was specified, and nothing was clear. The spirits, it seemed, to believe that knowledge earned was more worthwhile than knowledge given. Still, patience was not one of her virtues, and she ached to see what was intended of her. Moreso, she ached to escape, but such a thing would be difficult. She rose slowly, dusting off her pants, and turned away from the dawn. She had come to hate returning from these early morning sojourns to a life she lamented. Since arriving here in Azeroth the tensions within her own household had risen considerably. Her parents seemed lost, and like so many people they seemed to concern themselves with scavenging through the remains of the Exodar, searching for their old lives amongst the rubble. So much had been left behind in their escape, and absently the past few days had left her wondering if perhaps the steel that had been the Draenei had finally bent under the eons of pressure applied by their enemies. The mood was somber and quiet. Some lingered around the ship – well, city, now – in a state of shock. Others seemed to be setting themselves to rebuild, however. Again. Overhead the sky rumbled. A storm was on its way. She ducked into one of the small makeshift hovels that had been raised above and blow the earth around the crashed ship. Seated inside, sorting through a pile of scrapped belongings, were her mother and father. Immediately her father, a graying and venerable Draenei, looked up from his seat and scowled. Pavla met the stare and narrowed his eyes as he rose and strode past her out into the mists. Pavla sighed and flopped into her father’s now vacant seat. “How long will this continue?” Her mother pursed her lips in a way she had come to despise over the years she had sparred with both of her parents. It was a patronizing, and it made her stomach turn. “He is very upset with you, Pavla,” her mother said evenly. “He has been upset with me for years.” “Pavla.” “I really have no intention of arguing with you.” “You bring such things on yourself. If you would make the right decisions in your life we would not need to have such discussions.” “Discussions? More like lectures.” Her mother exhaled through her teeth in exasperation. “You have no idea,” Pavla said. “About?” “How this world feels.” “My own daughter, a heathen.” “If you could see what I see…” “Hush!” Her mother stood up quickly, nearly toppling the table. “Let me tell you something, child. You share your beliefs with those who slaughtered us! The bones of our people litter that broken world because of those who worship as you do! Look at what they have done to us. We huddle on these islands and try to find ourselves again. We survive because of our devotion to the Light. We have survived and will continue to survive because of it, but only if our children do not stop turning away from what is right!” These words, in a myriad of different forms and tones, had been repeated thousand times over in a thousand arguments. Pavla was sick of it. She was done with all of it. She bit her tongue, her usual angry response dying in her throat. Instead, she rose, and said simply, “I’m leaving.” Her mother looked across the table at her, her eyes widening. “Leaving?” “Here. This city. These damned little islands.” “Pavla… Why? I’m sorry!” “It’s not that…. I mean, it is, but there’s so much more.” Pavla rose from her seat and leaned forward, shifting through the scraps on the table. Most had belonged to her parents… Heirlooms from ancient ancestors now lost to the ages. Some were her things, though. A woolen doll, now torn apart beyond repair. Her hairbrush, laying in a similar condition. For the first time she finally understood her parents and their plight, and that they could never see beyond the eons that the Draenei had run and hid or the slaughter they had all endured. They lived in the past, and she strove for a future. “I remember how you once adored this,” her mother said as she picked up the doll. She turned it over in her hands before setting it back atop the pile. Pavla bit her bottom lip and titled her head. “I once did, but that was a long time ago. You always talk of the past and what it means to our people. I should become a paladin because it is what our family does? Mother, look around you There is a future for me here. There is a future for us. Dreanor was a dead world, shattered by the corrupt. We have a chance to begin again here…. To find something else instead of tradition and flight.” She sighed and fell silent, settling back into her chair. A long, uncomfortable silence hung heavy between the two women. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, dear,” her mother finally said. “I’ll get you something to eat.” “Thanks.” Pavla picked up the beaten doll and stared into its black, button eyes "Bye mom! I'm out!" said a young boy as closed the front door to his house and began to walk down the street, today would be his first day as a genin. He had just passed the genin exam with flying colors and was going to the assembly at the Academy before meeting his Sensei. The city of Konoha was bustling as people were going off to work and children to school, everyone had somewhere to go. Konoha was also now much larger in size than before despite already being a large city. The young boy took a short cut he knew to the academy, of course this would be the last time he would take it. "It all begins today, life as a shinobi." he thought to himself looking up to the sky. As he continued to walk the Academy came in sight. "Yo! Sanjo hurry up man it's almost time." shouted another young boy near the door of the Academy Building. Sanjo began to run towards him "Alright Alright Clyde I will be there !" he shouted. The two went into the building making their way to the court yard. There in a wider central courtyard a few dozen genin were in standing in lines in front of a podium where the head teacher was giving a speech about the duty of a ninja. Clyde was laughing as he was making fun of the teacher way of speaking. "Clyde shut up....at least act like a ninja man." said young boy in the other line. "Chill out Honame, tell it isn't funny come on now hahaha." he said Laughingly. "Whether it's funny or not does not matter though does it...." said an unnamed voice. Clyde turned around to other line, "hmm...Reji relax is what you should do, aren't you excited." said Clyde. Reji uttered no response. "Whatever this needs to hurry already." he said. Clyde felt a smack on the head, he turned to see who did it. "Shh! Pipe down already eh!" said a young girl with a stern expression. "Sensa and Clyde enough" said a passing teacher, this irritated Sensa. "So that's Sanjo Hiruzen? The rare genius I have heard of. " said a middle aged man in a normal jonin attire. "Yes it is but also theres Honame and Clyde Ryutatsu as well as Reji Hyuga, also hailed as geniuses. Quite a few top class prodigies this time around huh Shikamaru-senpai." replied a young jonin. "Why did you wait until now to take up a genin team anyway. "It was simply waiting for the right match, I didn't want a troublesome bunch. These kids are cream of the crop, it's like a generation of geniuses." said Shikamaru leaning on the wall. A chunnin teach walked into the room, "Uh Shikamaru-sama and Eno.... the teams are being assigned. So be ready to meet your new students." she said. Both men nodded in agreement as they made their way out the room. The class room was fool of newly graduated genin waiting to hear who would be their new teammates and more importantly their sensei. The lot of the were restless wanting to go and start their new life as genin. The was indiscriminate chatter in the room." Man my sensei better be cool." Honame thought to himself. Sensa was talking with another young kunoichi about how things were to change, "Hina aren't you excited about what's ahead" she asked. Hina sighed at the thought of it, "Yea I guess but this could be annoying, well as long as I get to be with you know who...." she said as she blushed. Sensa chuckled, "Hey Sanjo! Any worries about whats gonna happen today" she said. Sanjo shrugged, "Whatever, dont worry about things that dont matter at the moment" he said. Sanjo was kind of the cool guy around, though he was very friendly he did not like worrying about the future much. Then the one of chunnin teacher went over to the podium and cleared his throat, everyone turned their attention to him. "Now I am going to announce the teams, each team has 3 genin under a single jonin sensei." he said. He went down a line of teams, several genin got up to go meet their teachers. "Ahem now team 8, Clyde Ryutatsu! Honame Ryutatsu! and Hina Uzumaki!, you are under Eno Hatake. Now go meet up with you sensei." he said. Clyde did a fist pump, "Score! that's a good team, hey Honame Hina let's go. "he shouted. "Yea Yea like we did not her sensei before you...sheesh." said Honame sarcastically. "Now Team 9 will consist of Sanjo Hiruzen, Reji Hyuga and Sensa Haruno! You are dismissed!" he exclaimed. Sanjo got up and silently walked towards to the exit of the room with his hands in his pockets. "This ought to be interesting eh Sanjo." said Reji. Sanjo smiled, "I guess long as our sensei is not a jerk I can be happy." he said. Sanjo, Reji and Sensa made their way to a terrace which was the designated area for their meeting. They all took a seat to await their new sensei. Then they heard footsteps and turned their attention to a middle aged but young looking man walking over to them with a bored expression. They were surprised since they knew who this man was, at least had an idea. "Yo I am Shikamaru Nara, I will be your sensei." he muttered. My name is Kayleigh but most people call me Kaywee or Angel... Idk what else to put but aI will maybe put more stuff on later Name: New Beginnings Run Time: 3:42 Written By: Dave Cousins, Dave Lambert Year: 1978 "New Beginnings" is the eleventh episode of season 6 of the NBC television series Parks and Recreation, and the 101st episode overall. It premiered on January 16, 2014 to 3.05 million viewers.

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