1 The Antimorphs Saga
Prologue
Romania, 1942
Nazi Occupied
Pierre LaRouche sat, apprehensive in his seat on the train, as it made its way through the Romanian wilderness, repeatedly asking himself why he was aiding the Third Reich.
LaRouche was not a German, not a National Socialist. He was not Aryan. By all definition he should have ended up in the camps with the bulk of the others like him.
But no, he was shown mercy, for the old Frenchman knew more than enough to satisfy Hitler's demented obsession with the occult.
He had been told mere days ago that his presence was requested by the S.S. in the remote Romanian forests. Something had been found in an isolated mountain village that required his attention.
Something that had cause six highly trained S.S. soldiers to vanish without a trace. Visions of otherworldly demons and undead horrors that plagued a colossal fortress, standing in the hills like a monolith.
But there was something more, strange markings in the innermost chambers, things that no Nazi experts could decipher.
"This gives a bad feeling," said LaRouche, thinking aloud, "Very sinister."
The train pulled into station, a small railway filled with more soldiers than civilians, as the Germans made their invasion of Russia a grim reality.
LaRouche exited the train, wobbling on his legs. They had fallen asleep, and it took all his strength to walk to his waiting S.S. car.
A tall, blond German officer greeted him, with the German salute.
"Heil Hitler."
LaRouche did not respond to the officer's welcome.
The officer continued, "I am Deputy S.S. Cheif Reinharde Heinrich, no doubt you have heard of me?"
LaRouche nearly spat the words, "How could I not have?"
Heinrich was a very evil man, and one of the most powerful figures in the Reich. He was second in command of the S.S. and the officer who had proposed to send all Jews and other opponents of the Reich to the concentration camps, and to death.
This man was evil incarnate, and he was the one who had sent for LaRouche.
"Herr Doctor, we require your presence in the Fort, immediately. Two more men have vanished."
LaRouche nodded his head, understanding the Nazi's statement.
The two men entered the car, and drove up steep mountain roads and thickly wooded forest for nearly an hour. When they exited the wood, they were greeted with an awesome sight.
The fort stood sentinel over the surrounding countryside, a magnificent castle that had somehow fallen into disarray over the centuries. It's stone was pure black, so dark that it seemed to suck up all the light around it, for the sky around it was dark as night, though it wasn't even noon yet.
Above the fort, LaRouche could see artillery cannons nestled on the roof, and German soldiers running about, doing errands. Above it all, flew a Nazi Swastika, observing the scene with grim excellence.
The car pulled to a halt, and the two men exited, LaRouche first setting foot on the ground and walking hurridly towards the castle.
"Do you know who built it?" Asked LaRouche, with a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.
"Information in that area is speculative, at best," replied the German, "Some say the Turks, other say Vlad the Impaler, and still others say Christian warlords during the crusades. It could be anyone of them.
Walking briskly, LaRouche entered the building, his old legs stepping up each cobblestone with caution. He did not like the feel of this place. Something in the air was not right.
"It is hot in here."
"Yes, the men have been complaining. It reaches temperatures as high as 50 degrees Celcius, as you get closer into the center."
As they walked through the dim hallways of the ancient castle, LaRouche realized that he had been walking without direction.
"Herr Heinrich, this is all very impressive, but may I ask as to what purpose I have been summoned here?"
Heinrich smiled, "I was hoping that you would ask. This whole fortress is basically four outer walls, and small bunkers connecting them. In the center, where the heat is greatest, there is a giant, hollow, stone bunker. No entrances or exits, but covered in strange markings. We were hoping that you would be able to tell us what they mean, and possibly help us to enter the chamber."
Heinrich led the Doctor even further into the fortress, and the heat chewed on both of them like a dog chewing on its bone. Both of them were sweating through their shirts.
The inner cloister was almost deserted when Heinrich and LaRouche entered. A few lanterns gave the room an eerie glow, and a few soldiers stood guard, nervous. When Heinrich entered, they saluted and stood tall, each bellowing a "Heil Hiter" as they looked at each other nervously.
LaRouche sympathised with them. He didn't want to be here either.
"Can you tell us what these markings mean?"
The Doctor paused, looking at the ancient runes, carved roughly into the wall.
"This is not any dialect that I have ever seen. Not Turkish, nor is it Romanian. It looks like a combination of Latin and Greek, and a few Hebrew words here or there."
The Nazi scoffed, "That makes no sense! Why would anyone write in such a language?"
LaRouche read on, "I did not build the castle, Heinrich, I am just doing my job. I tell you what I see, nothing more, nothing less."
He moved his hands across the rocks as he slowly translated, moving between three different languages.
"In the year of the Dragon…the killer of Goliath…will change from vermin to man…and slay his comrades…seeking a cube of power…"
"Gibberish"
LaRouche seemed not to hear the German's comment, as he continued, "For his name is of the King of the Israelites, and his followers shall number six. When the seventh is taken, the Serb will kill the son of the king. Mankind's Gaurdians will be slain by…shape shifters."
"Shape shifters? Impossible!"
"And the stealers of minds will be victorious, and all of mankind will be enslaved. The king will leave this world, but visit many others. He will leave his pursuers as the Romans left Christ, and will possess a stone of great fury, a stone of demons. For of the Dark Lord should find this stone, his throne will no longer hold him. Know that the name of the Dark Lord is…I can't read this, it doesn't look like any rune I've seen before."
"Keep reading!" Barked Heinrich.
"When the King is born, take heed! Know that he will bear the mark of the Beast, and that his followers will not all worship him, as will one named for the lands of Egypt. For one shall be part animal, one a man of Gual, one Mercenary of angels, and one not of this world. Still, one more shall be an innocent, blood of the kings greatest foe. They shall search the stars for her, and hunt their prey in many forms."
'Such a thing is impossible! This is pure nonsense, we have heard enough!"
But LaRouche continued, as if he was in a trance.
"The Dark Lord shall confront them, to possess the Burning Stone. If he comes to hold it, then all shall burn in Tartarus. The Stone is within this mortal plane, and He has sent his servents to find it. One of them has been imprisoned within these walls. Should he ever escape, his Dark Master will know whence the stone is. Beware the followers of the King, for they call themselves…the Anti…"
There was little more, but LaRouche could barley read it. Heinrich was paniking now, the room was filling with a thick red mist, and the heat was becoming unbearable.
"And should these writing be heard by one who is a servent of the Dark Lord, know that all in his presence shall die within thirteen days…"
"Nonsense! Corporal, knock down that wall, we are going to prove this wine- making Frenchman wrong!"
The two soldiers looked behind them, picking up a satchel of explosives. One of the soldiers set the timer.
"The explosives are set to detonate in less than a minute! We must get out of here!" He said, throwing the satchel at the wall and running down the corridor, disappearing into the mist.
Within seconds, a scream was heard, in the direction of the German Corporal.
"What have you done? What have you done?" Panted Heinrich, running away, down the corridor.
"No! You must not let it loose!" LaRouches sceams were interrupted by the explosion, that killed him instantly. Only the other soldier was still alive to see the sight that should never be seen.
Only he saw the cycloptic monstrosity, only he could see how it was dark as night, darker than the souls of his superior officers. Only he saw how its form seemed to be made of no metal or flesh, but of time itself. And only he saw the machine slow down time itself as it lunged for his throat, tearing it out.
With the lone survivor dead, and the other destined to die within two weeks, the Shrike, imprisoned on the planet called Terra Firma for nearly fifteen hundred years, the only Shrike to know the location of the Ragnarok Stone, raised an arm in the air, forming a giant blade. The Shrike swung his blade, tearing a hole in time and space, and jumping into the black void, returning to its master.
The prophecy had begun to unfold…
Prologue
Romania, 1942
Nazi Occupied
Pierre LaRouche sat, apprehensive in his seat on the train, as it made its way through the Romanian wilderness, repeatedly asking himself why he was aiding the Third Reich.
LaRouche was not a German, not a National Socialist. He was not Aryan. By all definition he should have ended up in the camps with the bulk of the others like him.
But no, he was shown mercy, for the old Frenchman knew more than enough to satisfy Hitler's demented obsession with the occult.
He had been told mere days ago that his presence was requested by the S.S. in the remote Romanian forests. Something had been found in an isolated mountain village that required his attention.
Something that had cause six highly trained S.S. soldiers to vanish without a trace. Visions of otherworldly demons and undead horrors that plagued a colossal fortress, standing in the hills like a monolith.
But there was something more, strange markings in the innermost chambers, things that no Nazi experts could decipher.
"This gives a bad feeling," said LaRouche, thinking aloud, "Very sinister."
The train pulled into station, a small railway filled with more soldiers than civilians, as the Germans made their invasion of Russia a grim reality.
LaRouche exited the train, wobbling on his legs. They had fallen asleep, and it took all his strength to walk to his waiting S.S. car.
A tall, blond German officer greeted him, with the German salute.
"Heil Hitler."
LaRouche did not respond to the officer's welcome.
The officer continued, "I am Deputy S.S. Cheif Reinharde Heinrich, no doubt you have heard of me?"
LaRouche nearly spat the words, "How could I not have?"
Heinrich was a very evil man, and one of the most powerful figures in the Reich. He was second in command of the S.S. and the officer who had proposed to send all Jews and other opponents of the Reich to the concentration camps, and to death.
This man was evil incarnate, and he was the one who had sent for LaRouche.
"Herr Doctor, we require your presence in the Fort, immediately. Two more men have vanished."
LaRouche nodded his head, understanding the Nazi's statement.
The two men entered the car, and drove up steep mountain roads and thickly wooded forest for nearly an hour. When they exited the wood, they were greeted with an awesome sight.
The fort stood sentinel over the surrounding countryside, a magnificent castle that had somehow fallen into disarray over the centuries. It's stone was pure black, so dark that it seemed to suck up all the light around it, for the sky around it was dark as night, though it wasn't even noon yet.
Above the fort, LaRouche could see artillery cannons nestled on the roof, and German soldiers running about, doing errands. Above it all, flew a Nazi Swastika, observing the scene with grim excellence.
The car pulled to a halt, and the two men exited, LaRouche first setting foot on the ground and walking hurridly towards the castle.
"Do you know who built it?" Asked LaRouche, with a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.
"Information in that area is speculative, at best," replied the German, "Some say the Turks, other say Vlad the Impaler, and still others say Christian warlords during the crusades. It could be anyone of them.
Walking briskly, LaRouche entered the building, his old legs stepping up each cobblestone with caution. He did not like the feel of this place. Something in the air was not right.
"It is hot in here."
"Yes, the men have been complaining. It reaches temperatures as high as 50 degrees Celcius, as you get closer into the center."
As they walked through the dim hallways of the ancient castle, LaRouche realized that he had been walking without direction.
"Herr Heinrich, this is all very impressive, but may I ask as to what purpose I have been summoned here?"
Heinrich smiled, "I was hoping that you would ask. This whole fortress is basically four outer walls, and small bunkers connecting them. In the center, where the heat is greatest, there is a giant, hollow, stone bunker. No entrances or exits, but covered in strange markings. We were hoping that you would be able to tell us what they mean, and possibly help us to enter the chamber."
Heinrich led the Doctor even further into the fortress, and the heat chewed on both of them like a dog chewing on its bone. Both of them were sweating through their shirts.
The inner cloister was almost deserted when Heinrich and LaRouche entered. A few lanterns gave the room an eerie glow, and a few soldiers stood guard, nervous. When Heinrich entered, they saluted and stood tall, each bellowing a "Heil Hiter" as they looked at each other nervously.
LaRouche sympathised with them. He didn't want to be here either.
"Can you tell us what these markings mean?"
The Doctor paused, looking at the ancient runes, carved roughly into the wall.
"This is not any dialect that I have ever seen. Not Turkish, nor is it Romanian. It looks like a combination of Latin and Greek, and a few Hebrew words here or there."
The Nazi scoffed, "That makes no sense! Why would anyone write in such a language?"
LaRouche read on, "I did not build the castle, Heinrich, I am just doing my job. I tell you what I see, nothing more, nothing less."
He moved his hands across the rocks as he slowly translated, moving between three different languages.
"In the year of the Dragon…the killer of Goliath…will change from vermin to man…and slay his comrades…seeking a cube of power…"
"Gibberish"
LaRouche seemed not to hear the German's comment, as he continued, "For his name is of the King of the Israelites, and his followers shall number six. When the seventh is taken, the Serb will kill the son of the king. Mankind's Gaurdians will be slain by…shape shifters."
"Shape shifters? Impossible!"
"And the stealers of minds will be victorious, and all of mankind will be enslaved. The king will leave this world, but visit many others. He will leave his pursuers as the Romans left Christ, and will possess a stone of great fury, a stone of demons. For of the Dark Lord should find this stone, his throne will no longer hold him. Know that the name of the Dark Lord is…I can't read this, it doesn't look like any rune I've seen before."
"Keep reading!" Barked Heinrich.
"When the King is born, take heed! Know that he will bear the mark of the Beast, and that his followers will not all worship him, as will one named for the lands of Egypt. For one shall be part animal, one a man of Gual, one Mercenary of angels, and one not of this world. Still, one more shall be an innocent, blood of the kings greatest foe. They shall search the stars for her, and hunt their prey in many forms."
'Such a thing is impossible! This is pure nonsense, we have heard enough!"
But LaRouche continued, as if he was in a trance.
"The Dark Lord shall confront them, to possess the Burning Stone. If he comes to hold it, then all shall burn in Tartarus. The Stone is within this mortal plane, and He has sent his servents to find it. One of them has been imprisoned within these walls. Should he ever escape, his Dark Master will know whence the stone is. Beware the followers of the King, for they call themselves…the Anti…"
There was little more, but LaRouche could barley read it. Heinrich was paniking now, the room was filling with a thick red mist, and the heat was becoming unbearable.
"And should these writing be heard by one who is a servent of the Dark Lord, know that all in his presence shall die within thirteen days…"
"Nonsense! Corporal, knock down that wall, we are going to prove this wine- making Frenchman wrong!"
The two soldiers looked behind them, picking up a satchel of explosives. One of the soldiers set the timer.
"The explosives are set to detonate in less than a minute! We must get out of here!" He said, throwing the satchel at the wall and running down the corridor, disappearing into the mist.
Within seconds, a scream was heard, in the direction of the German Corporal.
"What have you done? What have you done?" Panted Heinrich, running away, down the corridor.
"No! You must not let it loose!" LaRouches sceams were interrupted by the explosion, that killed him instantly. Only the other soldier was still alive to see the sight that should never be seen.
Only he saw the cycloptic monstrosity, only he could see how it was dark as night, darker than the souls of his superior officers. Only he saw how its form seemed to be made of no metal or flesh, but of time itself. And only he saw the machine slow down time itself as it lunged for his throat, tearing it out.
With the lone survivor dead, and the other destined to die within two weeks, the Shrike, imprisoned on the planet called Terra Firma for nearly fifteen hundred years, the only Shrike to know the location of the Ragnarok Stone, raised an arm in the air, forming a giant blade. The Shrike swung his blade, tearing a hole in time and space, and jumping into the black void, returning to its master.
The prophecy had begun to unfold…
