Homunculi Novels & Stories

The first time I saw them, it scared the crap out of me! We also encountered a nuno that lives in an anthill. Nunos are goblins that easily get angry with someone that damaged his mound. They look like a small old man with a long beard. They have the power to curse trespassers. Heck! I don’t want to be cursed by them!

Tobin's own nephew had been slain by the Halflings about a decade before for slinking into the human realm and becoming involved in flesh trafficking. He got his kicks by feeding on innocent women, tearing into their emotions and making them become dependent on him for their complete happiness. So much blood had been on his hands as he discarded each one and left them as husks of their former selves, unable to regulate their emotions in a stable way without him there to provide their joy. Whole neighborhoods of women succumbed to him, and pined themselves to death after he was through. It had made Tobin ill, knowing he had been so closely related to a monster of the worst kind.

Tears came out of his eyes. ------------------ cambion- a child's produced from incubus father. - it appears to be stillborn, as there isn't a pulse or visible breathing. -at age 7, the child starts to behave like a human but it often displays evil tendencies.

"Who are you? And what have you done to my people?" "I am The First Culled," he replied, pointing to the indigo sludge that was once Kael. "The West called us 'Assets.' The North called us 'Monsters.' We are the ones who were born with the 'Too Much' energy before the Loom was built. We are the Ancestors of the Glitch." He gestured to the Marrow-Oak, which was beginning to turn a sickly, bruised shade of purple.

unravel. It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't even a man. It was a Shadow-Stalker, a creature of forbidden alchemy sent by the High Council. It looked like a smudge of ink against the air, a humanoid shape with no face, only two glowing slits of necrotic green light. It didn't have a scent, which was why it had bypassed the sentries at the door. It was a silent, soulless assassin designed for one purpose: to strike at the heart of a lineage before it could even be born.

Aunt Drucella says, pushing the book in front of me. I stare at the picture in front of me. A creature, built like a man, with the head of a wolf covered in scales with tiny furry hairs sprouting from its hedges. A primate with claws instead of fingers. I still can't understand. “What am I staring at?” “A Monogroth, A creature of darkness magic, created by Behemoth. It was last seen during the great war.” Greg says. “And was killed by your ancestor,” Aunt Drucella added.

More hungry. And floating above him, suspended in some kind of magical field, was a baby. Not my baby. This one looked maybe six months old, with black hair and red eyes that matched Malachar's. "What the fuck," I breathed. "A homunculus," Dante said beside me, his voice tight. "He created an artificial vessel to test the ritual on." "It's not working though," Taylor pointed out. "Look—the baby's disintegrating." He was right. The homunculus was literally falling apart, chunks of its body turning to ash and floating away.

The dark fluid spilled out across the concrete, and the creatures inside—the twisted, grafted abominations—began to twitch. Nomo stopped. He watched as one of the creatures opened its eyes. They weren't violet, and they weren't red. They were a milky, sightless white, leaking a black ichor that hissed as it touched the floor. The thing let out a sound that wasn't a scream or a growl, but a distorted, multi-tonal vibration that shattered the glass panels of the nearby offices. “Somito, tell me you’re clear!” Nomo shouted, his hand shaking as he raised his tablet to send the emergency burst.

They didn’t scream when their flesh sizzled. “They’re called Hollowborn,” Damon said beside me, voice cold. “Made from dark rites. Blood and bones of traitors. Controlled by soulbinds.” I turned to him. “You’ve seen them before?” He nodded once. “When I was a slave in Dagonhold. They don’t bleed like us. And they don’t stop unless you sever the spine.” “Then we aim for the neck,” I growled. “We won’t let these bastards through the gates.”

But now they were petrifying. I, even as a grown up woman shook to my bones . All of a sudden I bacame the small kid standing all alone in the cold cellar, frozen on the spot, everything so dark that I could barely see, sitting there on the cold floor sobbing because I knew there was no point in screaming my lungs out.