Monster Wolves Novels & Stories

“That’s part of it. But there’s more to it than that. Let’s just say we have a history. I am sorry they spoiled your mood. I really had no idea they were invited by my father.” I nodded, deciding not to push further. He changed the subject, his tone lighter. “So, what do you know about wolf types?” “Not much,” I admitted. “Just the basics.” “Did you know there are rare types of wolves?” he asked, his eyes glinting with interest. “Rare?” “Yeah. Like white wolves,” he said. “They’re called vortex wolves. They’re incredibly powerful and said to be reincarnations of the moon goddess herself.”

I’d seen the monstrosity months ago, had gazed upon it in sheer fucking horror. The bed was nothing more than a rectangular slab of marble, hand carved with terrible, awful things. Children dying, screaming for their mothers who burned. Beasts fighting against one another, leaving the dead to rot and decay. The earth itself in bright, fiery embers that devoured both the living and dead. At the center were two beasts, two wolves that fought an endless battle. One black, one white. I had no clue what it all meant, but I knew one thing. It was evil, pure fucking evil. The kind that transcended all else, lived when everything else had shriveled up and died.

he asked hoarsely. “Like moonlight,” she whispered. “Cold. Bright. Wrong.” He closed his eyes. A shudder ran down his body. “Rylan?” she whispered. He sat beside her on the bed, hands clasped, shoulders stiff as stone. “Lyra… wolves with silver eyes aren’t natural.” “What do you mean?” “They’re corrupted,” he said quietly. “Twisted. Created from Forbidden magic. They kill anything they touch.” Lyra’s breath hitched. “Then why didn’t it kill me that night?”

He blinked up through blurry eyes, wiping at his tears, and then— His heart stopped. A monstrous figure loomed above him. "Grahhhhhhhh!" The creature was unlike anything he had ever seen. Towering, grotesque. Three times the size of a normal wolf. Its eyes burned a hellish red, gleaming with an unnatural hunger. Claws, long and curved, glinted under the weak moonlight. Saliva dripped from jagged teeth as it growled, a sound so deep it rattled through Logan’s bones.

What is her gift? - We, by virtue of nature, cannot freely communicate with animals, they are afraid of us, - she began to explain, - and werewolves with such a gift not only approach any animals calmly, but also feel their life streams. For example, you can say that your head hurts, show where it hurts, and werewolves with such a gift feel it. They are excellent veterinarians and are highly valued at our fur farms. In our flock, sable, arctic fox, marten, ermine are bred. A very profitable business. I still don't get what's wrong? A wonderful gift, - but I thought to myself that I don’t have a gift at all.

Gord reflected on himself. Despite the fact that he was only the commander of a small army, he was still a direct subordinate to the tribe chief. His words were still useful. "Boss, we're almost there, Ice Demon City," one of the cyclops announced. Gord and his subordinates were mounted on massive wolves. The Great Wolf was a monster, not a humanoid race. [Great Wolf, Level 90] Great wolves were roughly the size of horses, reaching lengths of up to 500 kilograms and weights of up to 10 feet. They had eyes the colour of flames and thick fur that was marbled charcoal or black.

when Roland arrived at this place he straightforwardly saw Iron Hatchet," With respect to how to draw these beasts, I think no one find out about it than you. " After a short second, Iron Hatchet replied, "It's no issue to direct them, the wolves have hydrophobia, the wild hogs have photophobia, and the other wicked monsters likewise have their own feelings of dread. However, Your Greatness, this way we could have to confront every one of the shrewd monsters at one little point, will that not be excessively hazardous? " "On the off chance that we just depend on pikes and bows, that would be valid." Roland took a full breath and said without hesitation, "However presently we have another weap

"Brandur is one. You remember he is called The Destroyer?" She fought back the gratifying smile that tugged at her lips with his growing unease. Maybe she could scare him enough into abandoning his plan and tell her where baby Brand was before the wolves caught up to them. "And they are not just regular wolves," she continued. "They are the size of the legendary Dire wolves. Brand's wolf comes almost up to my shoulder on his flat feet. His teeth are as fearsome as the Háhyrnir (killer whale) that roamed our sea."

As she scanned the chaotic scene around her, a creeping mongrel was planning for a sneak attack from the left. ‘Sneaky bastard! Mongrels are monsters that lived only in the glacial mountains of the northernmost part of the wolven continent long ago and they are supposed to be extinct. Through the centuries, these mongrels were tamed by the Werewolf Committee I believe, and now they are serving them through a blood pact. Now, they are using the flocks of mongrels to assess the behavior and strength of the united werewolves. Ha! They are now starting to use their brains, huh?’ Soleyah pondered for a while. “Die,” Soleyah whispered as she was about to jump towards the staggering mongrel when sh

The land was sharply divided between two dominant and unforgiving species: the fierce and untamed werewolves, guardians of the moonlit night, and the elegant, immortal vampires, lords and ladies of the eternal darkness. The werewolves, bound by the lunar cycle, roamed vast, dense forests and jagged mountain ranges, their society structured around the pack, loyalty, and primal instincts. Their eyes, aglow with the primal fire, bore the untamed essence of the wilderness they called home. The moon, an ever-present celestial witness, governed their existence, dictating their transformations and guiding their communal rituals.