Episode Five: Power of Evil

Part One: A Prophecy Unfolding

The Shrike stood in the realm of Tartarus.

Long had it suffered being trapped in the mortal realm, on the planet of Earth. For fifteen centuries it had spent trapped in bitter exile. Fifteen centuries, trapped in a fortress that contained both the servent of the Machine, and the knowledge it possessed.

Quinz had sent them. Or Pan. Or Maerlyn. Or Loki. Or Damien. Or Puck. Or whatever else the half-Drac had taken to calling itself. For the Shrike had been sent on a wild errand, to recover the Stone of its masters power. Both of it's masters, in truth.

The Shrike had cut its way through time and space, around a million worlds and a million offshoots of those worlds. For but a moment in its mind it peered into the Walled Realm, the dominion of the traitor, Crayak. A realm cut off from Demon and Maiar alike, though not even the power of the Lord of Treason itself could keep Puck from his meddling. A Beast was there, as in every other realm. More universes than even the Highest Demon could count. More dimensions than there were Dracs to fight them.

Ah, the Beast…Pucks greatest innovation, mistake, and idiocy, in one form.

When It was brought into existence from the womb of a mortal woman and the seed of a traitorous half-demon, It had assailed the very place whence the Shrike was headed…Gharanz-Tyre, Dracish for Tower of…well, 'Tyr' could be translated as either Pain or Doom…either way, the name struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it.

The Beast was split…one to each world, to return the Lost Fire, the Stone of Oblivion, of Ragnarok, to the Black Hand.

~He has but one Black Hand…but it is enough to wield it.~  The Shrike thought to itself.

By Mortal, Maiar and Drac, This particular Shrike was known as Tyrak, the Lord of Doom. Once a mortal, of a long-dead race known as the Chairitiscus, It had been ensnared by the siren-song of the Machine. And it had sought it out, and, using it's wicked knowledge of sorcery, gone through with a thousand others, of different kin, to become the mockery of life and purity that they were now.

Still…one Beast left, two if the traitor was counted.

~It is beyond us now.~

The Shrike stood before Gharanz-Tyre, after fifteen hundred years, awed at the sight of the Fortress of Evil.

Tower upon tower, battlement upon battlement, unmeasurably high, a great slab of jagged and demonic adamant, stained black with it's demonic energies, so tall it defied the Maiar, and the Power beyond them. No Maiar had ever breached it. Within were Hordes upon Hordes of Dracs, and other Demon soldiers of the Dark Lord.

It had earned its name.

The Shrike heard Its masters calling, and entered the gate of the Tower, Dracs and Demons fearfully cowering before It.

The darkness of It's form repelled the light of the fires. Tyraks shape of a formless, featurless and black humanoid with flaming red eyes and an icey touch drawing awed hushes from all forms of the Bloodspawn.

"Tyraks returned! News of the Stone, no doubt he has brought! Puck will be made a fool yet!" Were the words of Duriel, a great High Demon, the Prince of Deception, as he walked to the Shrike.

~The Masters. I have news.~

The voice of the Shrike was icey, and chilling even to Duriel, the source of some of the greatest pains and miseries of mortals.

Duriel took a form pleasing to the eye, a tall, dark, handsome human man. That shell hid one of the most evil of the High Demons.

"Erm…yes…come with me, You've been expected."

The two Demons began to walk. All forms of evil were gathered in the great halls of Gharanz-Tyre, Drac, Shifty, Vampire, Orc and Troll, Sorcerors and other horrors too Vile to bring name to. Things nightmares were made of. Things that if their truest forms were seen, a mortal would be made both blind and insane.

"Out Legions are prepared! We need only the Stone now, to bring the war to the White Gates of Paradise, as we did in the War of the Stone so many eons ago! 'Ere day, more and more mortals choose Dracdom over the false promises of the Maiar. What Ovilkhan attempted three millennia ago, on but one planet, we shall complete on all Reality! Where were you for so long, old comrade? Imprisoned at the hand of the Maiar?"

The Shrike stopped in Its tracks.

~Speak that name not, Seductor. And long have we known war not to be your preference. For you enjoy to watch them destroy themselves, rather then slavery in our Empire or death to our fires. A coward. A cat. The Hour of Doom is at hand, and see that your insolence in uttering the name of the Enemy is not known to the Fallen One Of Their Creed. ~

Duriel no longer spoke, but obediently led Tyrak to the chamber of his master.

The chamber was alone and empty, gigantic. An army could have fit within it. In the very center, sat the Dark Throne, hundreds of feel high. Beside it was Puck.

Upon it was It's master…who would not allow His name to be spelt or spoken, who felt only hate and preached only lies. One hand chopped by the Lord of Treason in the War of the Shrikes, long ago, and the gash upon His chest from the Azure Blade of Gray'Ang the Maiar. The missing hand replaced by a skeletal claw of fire. A flaming, vile demon with massive, curved horns upon its brow, eyes blazing wrath and fire, and other features no being, Good or Evil, should be rightfully subjected to.

He was the Dark Lord. The Lord of the Shrikes, The Black Hand. The Fallen One. The Blood Bringer. Satan. His very name meant 'Great Hate'.

Mephisto.

"SO! In the very hour of Doom, Tyrak the Shrike comes to Gharanz-Tyre for council! Be it of the Stone, Doombringer?"

The Dark Lords voice boomed, only in two tongues did He speak. One, icey, eerily calm and seductive. Another, of malice and wrath. He had now chosen the latter.

~Long was I held in the designs, the fortress of Their Prophet. The Stone…It has been found.~

"Indeed! And by Quinz's Beast, nonetheless?"

Puck stepped in, ready to defend himself, " This is indeed the one prophecised my Lord, to return your power! All that it needed is One Destruction, of an entire universe, to set the events in motion to return it, so that you could see where it was, to cause it to jump from world to world until it was within your hand…and this Beast will destroy it! He will deliver it right to you!"

Mephisto was not impressed. "Such sooths were spoken by you of your Beast, David Berenson, and now look where he is! Within that shield of Ovilkhan! You touted him as the greatest of them all, and he STILL failed when you put him into the body of that mortal-clone, among the Beasts bretheren."

"But it WILL work, my Lord! Have faith! Soon you will stab the Elders to death with your blade! This is the Beast who will succeed!"

"There is still Hunting."

Silence gripped Puck.

"He failed you. Denied prophecy. Fights now as an agent for the POWER! The greatest turncoat in all of history, all at the hand of a mortal girl, none the less! I almost destroyed you for that, QUINZ! Remember how you quivered before me and promised a victory in Berenson? Remember how he was destroyed at the hand of two Maiar? WEAK, CHILDREN? And MORTALS…insolent MORTALS! Your 'Beast' is naught but a harmless, toothless old wolf that was doomed to fail from the beginning. I am done with it."

Puck spoke up, "No, you cant possibly…"

Mephistos voice was at once low, and cold, "Do not presume to tell me such things…Quinz."

He continued, "Tyrak, go to Taggarts universe. Recover the Stone. Kill the Beast and it's bretheren. Spare not one."

~As you wish, my Master.~

With that, The Shrike rose its arm, turning it into a blade that cut through time and space, propelling it to the universe of David Taggart and his Antimorphs.

And the Stone…

Authors note: If anyone found that terribly confusing, don't worry. This is what I've been building to for a DAMN LONG TIME! It's just starting to get really good, so stick with me! Everything will be explained in full.

I'm taking a census. To everyone who reads this, please review this time. I just want to know how many people read this fic.

Also, in case you haven't figured it out yet, Antimorphs has ties with One Least Likely by Augestine Quill. I STRONGLY suggest you read it. He mentions my stuff, and soon…Worlds Will Collide.

Also, Keep an eye out for "Manimals" by Ryan Griffin. I helped him develop the story, and I'm in a sense producing it. It has huge ties with Antimorphs. Including, Puck and Mephisto!

Thanks,

Elcolo9