Mythical Creatures Satyr Novels & Stories

“Those aren’t Drifters, Henry.” “Those are witches.” Henry Witches usually didn’t get along with our kind. I heard a commotion at the other end of the cave and rushed to see what was happening. The satyr and his daughter. “Names—now..” “Atticus, this is Ann,” the satyr told him, out of his trance, “Witches are coming.” “And what is it a concern of yours? Is it Devin?” Before he could answer, I realized that this was going to be a big battle.

He'd made that clear. "With your little boy toy? Fucking slut," he spits out. "He's not-" "Shut the fuck up and get back to camp before I throw you to the next feral rogue I find." I shiver at the thought. We'd crossed several in our years and they were disgusting creatures. The mere thought of them had the scent invading my mind, making me want to gag. Christopher followed behind me, eyes burning into my back. The grass beneath my feet felt soft. Makes me want to lay in a field of it, sun shining brightly on my skin.

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.

Her eyes widened as she turned her palm upside down again and again until he had spoken again. "Mautaurs aren't cannibals" The king spoke in a voice that could seep chills to her bones and yet it was surprisingly welcoming to her ears. Instead of being drawn to his voice, Daeira blinked only blinked at him. "How about the satyrs?" "Same," "Hombre?" "Same," Daeira's eyes went to the snake who seemed to calm down now before turning to the king, "Then...you?" "Are you giving yourself as my meal?" he asked rather seriously.

"Oh! The snatchers." I had seen their paintings before at the fortress. Selma had told me that they were cruel and violent mythological creatures that were sent by Zeus to punish humans. The birdwomen in those pictures looked ugly. Why does Laelia have to look pretty even as a beast? Her wings were so majestic and her hair was gorgeous.

I muttered as I recalled what the cursed witch said. “Yes, we are coming for your world,” the big creature casually said. “You werewolves have had your fun.” “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked in a firm tone. “It means that we will tear through the Rift that blocks your world from ours and take over it by killing you all and enslaving some of you just for the fun of it.” The big guy replied. “What are you called?” I asked him as I looked around. “Saturn,” he replied. “The Harbinger of Doom.”

, 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.

[Narrator's POV] A long time ago, there was a group of male sinners, also called cursed humans, who had been altered by the Gods to transform into evil giants with fur-covered bodies, bull-like heads, and tails. These monsters, born from the arrogance of man towards the Gods, came to be known as Minotaurs or the Monsters of the Labyrinths. Five of them found themselves trapped inside the confusing structures created by Poseidon, where five pairs were currently walking through. "To kill is to live" was their belief, and they eagerly awaited the arrival of the defenders to satisfy their hunger.

I stared at him. He wasn’t begging. But he was close. We prepared for war. Not with armies, but with rites. Ancient rituals were drawn in the moon courtyard. Blood was spilled on stone. Wolves howled as glyphs blazed with silver fire. Sabine arrived at midnight. She brought scrolls older than the packs themselves. "This creature is no beast," she said. "It was a god, once. Cast into the earth for what it became." "What did it become?" I asked. "Desire without form. Hate without mercy."

But the chances of his death by a satangel without potus is negligible because after a satangel loses it's potus, they become extremely weak, they won't even have enough power to stand, and after a few minutes they die leaving no one else in this universe who could kill that demon. Halflings even can't kill them after their potus is removed from their chest because, as they are not complete satangels, 99% of their powers rest in the potus. A satangel or a satangel halfling can't kill, or even harm the one who is of the same species as them. Even if they try to harm or kill eachother it will have no affects. °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°