Greek Myth Satyr Novels & Stories

The satyr snarled at her and flexed his claws without attacking or even taking a move toward her. “You inferior being will never be able to hurt me. Do you know which god I serve?” He said snottily and again I was reminded of those British aristocrats in movies. The woman put her open palm on her chest and it glowed before a sword handle appeared and she pulled it out of her chest. “So be it, satyr. I will never let you harm my mistress farther.” She said before slashing at the creature, but she was a few seconds late. It disappeared into thin air.

Not used to seeing that, she stepped back to find another stranger appearing near Gunther and Silas. "It is hard to court your Majesty when you disappear so suddenly." A chill slid down her spine at the vicious voice of the stranger. "You agreed to see me, then darted away. What other reason could you have but to want me to give chase?" It was another shock. A Satyr existed in this world? What else was there? The pointed horns on his head curled around human-like ears. Though he wore no clothes, his fur concealed his nudity, and even under all the dark hair, she could tell he was fit. Green eyes peeked through windblown black hair and her heart pounded hard in her chest. Why was this world s

The satyrs's lips tipped up slightly, revealing its sharp teeth—a triumphant gleam in his obsidian eyes. "I can tell you if you give me something in return." He said, stepping closer to the cage. "Name your price," I said through gritted teeth. "A taste of your blood, I won't need much."Satyrs were notorious for being able to con their way into people's memories. All they needed was a taste of blood, and they could see into your mind, see your deepest darkest secrets, your truths. It was a dangerous price to pay, but depending on the amount of blood and the strength of their ability, they might not be able to see too much. But no matter the cost, I needed to know if she was okay. It was eati

I said. Her eyes were full of life. “Ah, you’ve read about the satyrs.” I nodded. “I did. Interesting bunch.” “Interesting, depraved, I guess it’s all in how you look at it.” “They weren’t ostracized for their depravities,” I said. “No, they weren’t, not entirely. In fact, in some cases, I feel like they were celebrated. Their notorious reputations often made them the life of the party. Can you imagine someone like that in today’s world?”

Too bad for them that he had to be present at the time. Satyrs were a hybrid creature of both goat and man in their true form. They were known for their hedonic and raucous sexual nature, and they usually indulged human women using cheap magic spells to cloak their goatish features, but their smell usually gave them away. As a werewolf with heightened senses, their smell was foul and repulsive. A stomach-wrenching odor.

“This, dear Emma, is Kaliratri’s Embrace. A sacred chamber, inspired by the night of the goddess herself. Here, creatures of myth come to feed, fuck, and fight.” Below, an Asura—a hulking demon with molten skin and four arms—was being ridden by a Maenad, her wild hair lashing about as she screamed in ecstasy and madness. On the next platform, a golden Satyr lapped at the feet of a six-breasted Yakshini, her laughter hypnotic and sweet. Emma blinked. “Are those…?” “Greek and Hindu creatures, yes,” Terra smirked. “This is Grimkeeper. All myth is real here, and all hunger has a place.”

Emotions had run wild between now and then; excitement, disbelief, discontent, rage, and now a thoughtful silence pervading the four walls like a thick blanket that lulls her back to the bay of sleep’s arms. Avian dips the feathered tip into the glass bottle and carefully lowers it onto the page where she had left, just beneath the grotesque sketch of an original Lycanthrope she had attempted whilst still in the throes of energy. “… Average of ten feet tall, five hundred pounds of muscle and fur that is impervious to the war instruments of man.” The high priest stands at the front left, his cheeks like emptied udders that tremble with each breath, “tapetum lucidum…” highly sensitised night v

As such, he had taken the brunt of the blow for his master! “What a pitiful servant you are to have such a foolish lord,” Atlas stated as he looked down on the broken Hoovey. The Satyr’s horns had been destroyed by Atlas’ punch, and his arms had been twisted into a strange knot. There was a huge hole in his abdomen and his bleeding was profuse. It was unlikely that he would survive. “My…life…was…for…my…lord. My death…will be…pleasant…as…long…as…he…is…safe.”

She sighs. “Can I call them here?” He nods, smiling. “Hecate, Pan? A word if you don’t mind.” She speaks lightly, but stands as they pop into the liminal space. Hecate is seven-foot, with pale almost luminous skin, large eyes that glowed a dark purple, a small delicate nose, thin lips, and shoulder length wavy black hair tied back in a ponytail today. Pan’s a Satyr, the top half of a man, and the waist down was all goat.

, the forest nymphs were frequently seen more than their sisters. They enjoyed being great teases to the satyrs who enjoyed coming after the nymphs to woo and seduce them. The satyrs were known to be good flute players and couldn't resist the voices of the beautiful nymphs when they sang. Although being almost half human and half goats from the waist down, they still were magically pulled to nymphs who were of a different species. The nymphs turned to look at Theresa and one of them whispered something behind her hand to the other and they both snickered.