The Connecticut Clan
last updated 5/18/03
Peter stood at the ship's foredeck, looking over the deep forests of what would be his new home. The new world. God grant he live long enough.
"Oy," James declared, beckoning him over to a hatch that led below decks. Peter gave the darkening skyline one last look before joining his brother. "It's time."
"And be sure I'm glad of that."
James chuckled as they clattered down the steps into the hold, easily traversing to the section portioned off for their most unusual companions. "Aye, no argument about that. We'll all be glad for their presence before things are done and settled."
Rather than chide for such an awful joke, Peter stared at the statues as they began to crack, shedding flakes of stone to reveal skin colored multiple, inhuman hues.
With spine tingling roars, the gargoyles awoke.
The recorded history of the Connecticut clan goes back to when European settlers came over to settle the wild land. Several families smuggled gargoyle allies with them, while refugees from Scottish and English clans were quite willing to escape to the unknown continent from human attempts to cleanse the world of the evil gargoyle menace. One of the most significant arrivals was a group of four Scottish stock that had broken off from the Wyvern Castle clan. They came on the British ship Vivacia in 1534, to help their friends colonize an area today known as Old Mystic. One of these gargoyles, Myrddin, was a talented magic user, and more importantly, a compulsive note taker. He kept extensive journals about the clan's journey, and just what they found in the New World.
"Zachary?" Enid called out softly, her wings shifting on her shoulders nervously. "Where are ye?"
No answer. The gargoyle shifted from foot to foot, scanning the woods. Supposedly savages roamed this place, and she'd heard many a gruesome tale on the voyage over about what they loved to do to their captives. While she was confident enough of her fighting abilities, she knew there was no way she could take on a band of bloodthirsty barbarians.
But she still had to find the boy! "Zachary!" she called again, this time daring to speak louder. "Come here!"
Rustling in the tree branches above her gave warning for her to step back, and a moment later a gargoyle dropped lightly to the ground. He slowly stood from his crouch, giving her more than enough time to examine him. Well over six feet of autumn red male, he had no hair, and large bat like wings were caped over his shoulders. He wore only a loincloth, square and decorated in patterns she couldn't recognize.
His eyes widened as he looked her over horns to tail in return. "Waykojomunk," he breathed in surprise, then his stern face broke into a grin. He raised a hand, making Enid flinch back until she realized it was in greeting, not to strike. "Aquay, alaku-uhsimisol!"
Much to the shock of Myrddin and his three companions, they soon discovered that the local Indians had their own, rather large clan of gargoyles. While the majority of these were as native as the Mohegans they lived with, several could claim descent from wanderers from Europe, South America, and even one lone visitor from Japan. Deciding what was good for their ancestors was good enough for them, the new arrivals and those that followed joined forces with the locals. The European based gargoyles selected a moderate patch of land as their main base and set up a permanent camp, claiming both Indians and settlers as their protectorate.
While the fortunes of the local humans waxed and waned, the gargoyles remained constant, becoming even more settled on their land and territory- and rather more European in outlook.
"I don't understand," Livy muttered to himself as he carefully maneuvered the quill across parchment to put down his words in more permanent ink, "just why I have this job. Old Myr was the historian. I'm just...." He sighed and set the quill down. "I'm just his son," he whispered softly.
As premiere magician of the clan, Myrddin tended to meddle with Things Best Left Alone in his later years. Considering gargoyle nature, much of this interference involved the clan. By the end of his life, he was convinced that the entire local gargoyle population would descend into savagery and then extinction without the sensible, reliable meddling of an intelligent magic user. Or, according to the account of his son Livy, he was visited by a time traveler that told him it was to be done. Either way, Myrddin expended his life to create one last, massive spell binding his bloodline to a magical tome, giving them the duty of protecting the entire clan- from itself.
Meriwether carefully picked up Frederick's ancient, leather-bound journal, marveling at its slight weight. She opened it to a random page near the front, not really reading, simply enjoying looking at the handwriting. She gathered a few pages and flipped towards the front, watching the writing styles change. It took several changeovers for her to realize she'd seen what should amount to at least half the book, but when she checked the amount, it seemed as if it hadn't moved a page. Now disturbed, she picked up the book and let them flip by like it was a motion picture book. Though she got through many chapters, and even more varied samples of writing, the number of pages seemed to stay the same....
The most obvious sign of Myrddin's legacy is The Journal which is passed from one Recorder/Historian (those within the bloodline tend to change terms upon whim and imagination) to the next upon death (there is no retirement plan). It contains the important facts and stories of the clan since Myr's death, and many suspect that the magic it contains has made its contents spread back past then as well. It follows the Recorder around, appearing nearby in appropriate places. It also seems to write down the Recorder's thoughts and feelings about incidents without anyone being involved in the process, a useful habit for when the Recorder is too busy getting in trouble to write down events. While quite a few generations of gargoyles have used the same journal, it looks a little beaten up, but otherwise no different than the day it was bound. Some suspect that when Recorders die, their magic, and perhaps life essence, becomes infused into the book, granting it more power and- perhaps, or maybe a development over even more time- sentience.
Felix stared at the strange writing that was embossed on the book cover. He'd never seen THAT before on the Recorder's Journal. "Iam tempus est rectus, tam capiet me per nocte, dum mia loci est rectus," he read slowly, puzzling out the Latin. "What on earth?"
A slow hum filled the air, then a circle of golden light appeared at his feet. He had time for a single, startled yelp, the fell through- INTO!- the light.
When the wild ride ended, he slammed into the ground hard enough to feel like he'd had a massive drinking binge- after he awakened from unconsciousness. Thus, he found himself with a massive hangover somewhere in Mississippi next to a stream while a racoon, seated on a nearby log, played go fish with a fat squirrel idly strumming a banjo.
Like most other jobs, the Recorder has a small trial period while the new recruit learns the ropes. Some generations actively teach their successor everything they need to know to be Recorder, while others rely solely on this trial period.
It begins with the death of the previous Recorder. The Journal appears somewhere near the next one (selected through magic and some suspect by the book itself, for at least minor magical talent and ability to guide- but not lead!- the clan), with a specific spell somewhere noticeable on/in it. When the gargoyle recites the spell, they are teleported to random times and places. Well, not entirely random- the spell acts much like Avalon's skiff, in that it sends the Recorder where and when they need to be. At minimum, this is to visit their successor or predecessor to gain/pass on knowledge. It is also not uncommon for the Recorder to drop in on clans of assorted times and places and return with a mate.
Nadine gave her mentor a questioning look as she gingerly picked up the leather-bound journal. "Felix," she squeaked. "I.... That is.... I don't get it! I mean, the magic lessons are useful, and I know I'm only supposed to use it for the good of the clan.... But just what is it I'm supposed to do?!"
The main purpose of the Historian is to meddle with affairs of the clan and their allies, all for the good of the clan, of course. This includes anything and everything from interfering in romances to keep inbreeding down to seeing that the clan somehow brings in money to better function in a human world (in the past hundred odd years, Wall Street had made things much easier, what with the ability to see into the future and accountant hirelings that don't need to see the customer- the internet promises to make the clan even more profitable). Most Recorders, however, are wise enough to know to stay out of most affairs, hoarding their abilities for the worst scenarios.
Mector crawled out from the escape tunnel, shaking dirt from his hair, and turned to look back. Light disrupted the sedate black-blue of the night sky, turning it red and orange. They were burning the house. By the dragon, why couldn't the damn humans just leave them alone?!
The past half century has been chaotic even by gargoyle standards. In 1951, the majority of the clan was slaughtered one night by a group of humans, led by son of one of their main allies. The battle was incredibly violent, more so than the humans expected, but they had chosen the night when the females of the clan laid their eggs. In the end, this left 1 elder (Sadie, the Historian) and 6 adults to raise the seven eggs that survived- along with one more that appeared in the rookery 2 years later. Raising the eventual hatchlings kept life from getting dull, with assorted traumas and insanity. After the massacre, the clan withdrew from human affairs. While they continued with the occasional patrol, a policy of secrecy and distance was applied. Even when they did interfere to protect the humans, they often used weapons, particularly bows and guns, to strike from a distance.
Lately, however, the young gargoyles are becoming eager to interact more with the human world.
Raymond Fitz swallowed and loosened the knot in his tie, wishing with all his being that he could be at home, eating dinner, in sweats instead of his new business suit. And most importantly, NOT about to call Mr. Knight and give him the bad news.
The clock ticked its way to seven o'clock, and he reluctantly picked up the phone. Knight was the epitome of good business- he never tried to tell Ray what to do, he simply accepted results, and he paid very, very well. But to compensate for such a dream job, he insisted the annual reports be made in concise phone calls instead of the much neater and easier paper reports, and always at seven or some other time after dark. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect his client was a vampire. But the Knights and the Fitzs had a long history of accountant and client, and Grandpa Al had pulled him aside for a small Talk when Ray had gotten into the family business. He'd been told that he personally would deal with the Knight account, a great honor. But it was strictly HIS contract, and Grandpa had hinted at Bad Things happening should he fail the family duty.
He played with the thought of vampires some more as the phone rang.
"Ah, Mr. Knight, this is Raymond Fitz."
"Excellent! Bottom line, as always, please."
"I'm sorry to say profits went down this year.... We're down 7 million."
"Very well. Thank you very much, Mr. Fitz!"
As he hung up the phone, he wondered how on earth anyone could take that sort of news without disappointment of some sort, let alone sounding just as pleased as if they'd doubled profit.
The man couldn't be human. He HAD to be a vampire.
In financial terms, at least, the clan has prospered beyond expectations. Through various stocks, fronts, and representatives, the gargoyles actually hold what amounts to a significant amount in most large companies. Should they ever have reason to flex their muscles in this area and totally destroy their protective secrecy, they could claim seats in boardrooms of IBM, Nightstone, Disney, and even Xanatos Enterprises, along with countless lesser companies. However, complete lack of interest in the business world indicates that for the near and probably far future, they will simply continue to take in the profits and let the humans deal with the messy, confusing hassle of running businesses.
Dusty stepped back to look over their handiwork with a contented smile. The former hole posing as a roof was gone, replaced by long wear shingles. All in one week. Perhaps not a dream come true, but a damn good job however you cut it.
The homeowner came out to shake her hand, smiling incredulously. "I don't believe it. It just doesn't seem possible."
Dusty grinned, savoring the warm fuzzy trying to permeate her body. THIS is why she'd joined up in the first place. "That's what the DayDream Foundation specializes in. 'It's not just what we do,' " she quoted, savoring the organization's motto, " 'it's what we are'."
Since not even a toy hungry but small clan can possibly spend all their income even on legitimate excuses such as electricity, they've put the surplus to good use. A small chunk goes to various banks, earning them even more in interest, but the majority goes to doing what gargoyles do best: protecting people. The clan's most ambitious project is about 70 years old- the venerable DayDream Foundation. This nonprofit organization was started by, and in the end, theoretically run by the gargoyles. While only the Leader and Second maintain a steady hand in affairs, the entire clan makes up the highest level of the company. They are rarely seen, however, by the human volunteers and employees that carry out the philanthropic activities. Rather than one concrete goal, the Foundation performs any number of general good deeds. They repair and build homes, give out food and toys, and try to do anything else that can help out mainly the local area in Connecticut, along with a lesser focus on the tri-state area.
One of the Foundation's biggest events is the Solstice Service. On the night of the Winter Solstice, the Clan and a group of volunteers- hand picked by Leader and Second for open-mindedness and dedication to the organization- work together to do one massive or occasionally two smaller projects, all in the one night. Through magical aids, they traditionally work throughout the night in privacy from outside eyes, cloaked and silenced so none know of their deeds until after the fact- not even the recipients. Besides satisfying the gargoyles' need to protect and help the community, they find that this helps the clan's connections with humans, as well as solidifying people's loyalty to DayDream.
Silicon casually clicked his way through the website, perusing Slashdot's latest rants and news.
"Hey, find any good porn?"
The obnoxious question was enough to pull his attention from the monitor to glare at Frank. "Not since I deleted your bookmarks, no."
"Bookmarks?" he whimpered, eyes going wide and shiny. "You destroyed my bookmarks? No!" He whirled around, flinging himself to drape over the table. "Say it isn't so! How, HOW can I read anything now, since I cannot keep my place any longer? I'll never know what page I stopped on!"
Silicon sighed at the melodramatics. "Freak," he muttered quietly as a simple declaration, no heat or insult coloring his words.
"Uh huh!" his brother chirped, bouncing to his feet and turning to nod vigorously with a manic grin. He reached out and grabbed Silicon's hand, pumping it in a wild handshake. "Hi, I'm a freak! What're you?"
"Busy. Go away and bug Steve."
"Ok!" With that, Frank turned and literally skipped out of the room.
He sighed and turned back to the computer. "I'm surrounded by lunatics."
The Connecticut Clan- as of April of 1996 and before any of my stories- gives you warm greetings. Here's a brief profile of each of them. Age is listed in human equivalents (double for actual age). Yes, I am aware they all need a good psychiatrist.
Mector: Male, about 43, hunter green skin, short light red hair, ram horns. Mated to Talia. Leader of the clan. Being the Leader, which means he's naturally stressed, uptight, and overly protective, the clan comes first in all things. He saw most of his clan killed, so doesn't handle humans well, is highly vindictive, but tries to keep it under control (read: lets it simmer until he can explode). Single minded, often needs his mate/2nd to temper his orders
Talia: Female, about 43, orange skin, long white hair. Mated to Mector. Second of the clan. She tends to see more of the bigger picture than her mate, and is definitely calmer in a crisis. Can be overbearing, but sees it in terms of helping the clan survive. Has trouble admitting her feelings to anyone.
Sadie: Female, 101 years old, faded rose coloring, white hair in a bun, small forehead horns (similar to Demona's), double knee and elbow spurs. Resident Elder and Recorder. She has the clan as a primary concern, but more on the individuals than the clan as a whole (that's for the Leader to spaz about). Enjoys social events, especially (non-malicious) gossip and tall tales. Basically an old Pollyanna, if you ignore the fascination with (fast) cars. Will kill if not allowed to watch the occasional NASCAR or forced to sit thru soap operas. Prankster, friendly, but highly aware of mortality (as in seize the moment). Occasionally has moments of nostalgia and thinks the Leader (whoever it might be at the time) has a few screws loose. Is not above taking an unfair advantage.
Arin: Female, about 43, animalistic gargoyle (fox) with glider wings. Mated to Liam. Like most of her rookery, she is slightly human wary. She enjoys astronomy, has a rather bubbly personality, and firmly believes the phone to be the Devil Machine
Liam: Male, about 43, animalistic gargoyle (wolf), similar to the English gargoyles. Mated to Arin. While he also distrusts humans, he's not as psycho about it as Mector. Totally can't connect with "the kids", and makes occasional pathetic attempts, much to everyone's fright. Computer phobic (considers it to be the Devil Machine), but enjoys hunting and is the reason the armory remains well stocked and in good condition.
Art: Male, about 43, small reddish brown gargoyle with short, slightly messy blonde hair, glider wings (like Lexington's), and four horns going in a row back along the center of his head (like Broadway's head bumps, only actual horns). Mated to Jerry. While rather (lovingly) henpecked by mate Jerry, prefers to keep things running smoothly, sorta neurotic, obsessive about details. Would lose his head if it wasn't attached.
Jerry: Female, about 43, gray skin, bobbed black hair, 2 small horns going back, up, then spreading/flattening out so tips fan shaped. Mated to Art. The most grounded of the clan, fits '40s mother stereotype almost perfectly (except she doesn't wear a pearl necklace all the time ;), enjoys baking but believes no one can do as good a job (and probably right). Enjoys mothering everyone, quasi-control freak. Dislikes blood and violence.
Frank: Male, about 17, light purple coloring, short red hair, mock goth look, exaggerated spikes on edges of his brow ridges. Laid back, but is happier partying than just watching. Macho, pretends to chase anything in a skirt, and enjoys drinking. He is definitely one of the craziest gargoyles around; will do weird things at the drop of a hat and only he (possibly) knows why. Is never seen by anyone when not sarcastic, more like downright silly. Has a very good singing voice, could probably be professional if human, but realizes that's not likely to happen so tends to get depressed about that. Enjoys singing and poetry, though will be badly maimed before admitting to the last. He gets depressed a lot, but doesn't show it. Steve's the only one who knows he's not Mr. Happy Weirdo, but will not say cause then Frank might spill the beans about many things we most likely don't want to know about.
Steve: Male, about 17, has light blue skin, no hair, and lots of piercings. He's a practical joker, loves to party, has a phobia of fire, and can drink anything under the table. Even though he's learned it's rather futile, Steve also enjoys making moves on anything else that can move.
Kyla: Female, about 17, lavender coloring, with mid-length hair dyed a multitude of colors (the more outrageous, the better). She has a large crest of horns and enjoys lots of metal jewelry. Enjoys taking it easy and just relaxing to watch the world go by, has a talent for metalwork and knows it. Provides most of the jewelry for the clan (and additional income), and takes pride in her skills. Sometimes has trouble understanding her clanmates' need to rush and often prefers to be alone. Content with life as it is, and takes everything in stride. the laid back type. As in almost coma like.
Megan: Female, about 17, is fuchsia, with long brown hair in a ponytail, and blue jay like wings. A firm realist, she's rather level headed except when near mechanical things- when she becomes an absentminded professor. Keeps her mouth closed if it's really important (i.e. personal) but otherwise spouts off whatever's on her mind, which is useful when everyone in the clan treats her as the resident mother confessor. Prefers the direct approach but knows enough to eventually try something different. Limited patience with people.
Nicole: Female, about 17, iridescent white skin with touches of pink, medium length red hair, blue eyes. Blind since birth, but hated being considered inadequate, so she picked up anything in the way of martial arts and fighting as she could. She's pretty much obsessed with proving she can handle herself, so takes major risks at times. Enjoys teaching others, but feels distanced from them (classic "nobody understands" teen angst). Doesn't like anyone getting too close emotionally, because she's unsure of herself and is afraid of becoming too dependant.
Nina: Female, about 17, has green-yellow skin, with two horns that rise straight up from her forehead, tail ends in a flat, oak leaf shape, shoulder length hair that tends to be either red, white, or shades of green. She tends to fade into the woodwork, finding social conversation difficult, and therefore enjoys being alone in the woods. Or being in the woods, period. She has a magical affinity for plants, and therefore has major talent at healing via natural herbs and magic.
Silicon: Male, about 17, blue skinned with no hair but four head bumps, a large beak and large ears. Rather shy and withdrawn, preferring not to shake the boat at all. He's much more comfortable with rational thought (like computers), than emotions. Hysterics of any type will severely freak him out.
Tate: Male, about 17, green skin, brown hair. He's an old fashioned romantic, enjoys humor but take it too far and he just gets cranky. He tries not to let emotions get the best of him (but usually fails, so gets all messed up about it), accepts things at face value, and tends to be unsure of his place in the scheme of things. The last comes from a history of being treated by the elder clan members as either excessively fragile or different in a rather distasteful way, for reasons he could never determine.
Taz: male gargbeast, large sized, dark tan, looks vaguely dragonish (without the wings), with a large frill around the neck, and sometimes a modified seeing eye dog harness on. Nicole uses him as a seeing eye dog.
T.O.C.: female gargbeast, canine based (more like a mastiff than Bronx's bulldog style), with rust red coloring and a long tail with many spikes. She serves as the general guardian of the clan, and wanders around as she wills.
Jay Stiles: Female human, 17, Caucasian, brown hair and eyes, rather plain. Generally friendly optimist, day dreamer, enjoys stuff from the past (medieval period particularly), enjoys being alone but doesn't mind being in a group. Crowds are bad, large/formal social events are a must to avoid. Prefers watching to leading, rather insecure. Jay relies on humor for getting past most anything life throws her way.
Troy: Male, about 20, gold skin, black bat style wings, and long red hair, usually in a braid. Troy's one of the wild cards of the clan- unsure of his place, yet confident enough to just go about his business and learn about the world. He's interested/fascinated by politics, TV, and (ancient) Rome. Overall, he's just fitting in where he can and trying to get over his past.
Location, Location, Location
"Just a few local patrols tonight," Talia declared to the clan. "I want those on duty to sweep the property. Nina, hit Porter's Rock, and make sure to check the trails- we've got a hunter wandering around. I want to know if he's one of our allowed, or some idiot out for easy deer. Silicon, take the sandpit. Check for those bikers, because those jerks need some serious scaring. Steve, take the brook. And Liam, I'd appreciate it if you could look over the graveyard entrance. The rest of you- enjoy your night off, or make a patrol or two over the town."
The clan owns about 100 square acres of land, mainly light forest with a moderate section portioned off by a small stream. The large, sprawling house is 3 stories, 1 entirely belowground. This floor contains a combination wood and metal shop (which once upon a time was the rookery), and a large workout/exercise room. The middle floor is partially underground, since the house is built into a hill. It contains private rooms, the current rookery (much smaller than the older one), and the largest gathering area- the rec room of a gargoyle clan's dreams. The top floor holds the armory, kitchen, library, and more personal quarters, along with a dining room and a moderate sized living room. The roof is where most of the clan spends the day, and is therefore cluttered with shed skin, lawn chairs, and occasionally the random picnic table.
The house is located in a field that's off the highway, well screened by lots of trees. Along with a small garden that used to grow vegetables but now just produces weeds and Christmas trees, there is an adjoining field which is used for sports, target practice, and anything else inventive and insane gargoyles can contemplate for it.
Other areas of interest are mainly local interesting geological oddities. A rock cliff overlooking the Mystic River, long ago dubbed Porter's Rock for reasons now lost, is a main spot for romantic pairs or those looking for some scenic time alone. On the path to Porter's Rock lies a boulder that ancient glaciers carved so that it resembles a large amphibian, earning it the title of Frog Rock. A large portion of forest was long ago stripped before the clan acquired the now sandy field. The west most end contains a rocky ridge, while a large pond is snuggled in the northern edge, connecting to the stream that passes through the property. Enough assorted rock formations in ridges populate the woods too keep any geologist happy for years.
Of course, various members of the clan have adapted sections to their own whim. Steve and Frank have a small glade as a base camp for random carousing. It habitually contains coolers for beer, a campfire, assorted publications of dubious nature in protective cases, and "furniture" ranging from tattered hammocks to ancient beanbags. Nina has claimed another clearing, centered around a gigantic oak that seems to have been around as long as anyone can recall. While she keeps it mostly pristine, she's used the woodshop to make a table and uses cut logs for stools in this private sanctuary.
The most elusive spot on the entire property is the graveyard. There is no formal, stable path to this place. When someone wanders around the proper section of woods with the intent to visit the graves, eventually they stumble over a strand of blue foxfire lining the ground. If they follow this, they eventually come to a strange clearing. The trees bordering it are literally of every type: no two are the same, and many are located in this eternally temperate area that should not be anywhere near the north-eastern United States. Within the glade are rows upon rows of grave markers, ranging from simple placards to almost life-sized reproductions of the deceased. These graves are of both gargoyles, back to the days before the settlers came, and their human allies. When the markers are touched for a length of time, often figures of the deceased appear above the marker like a faint, shadowy hologram. It is said that before the gargoyles claimed it, this was one of Titania's bowers, her favorite grove on fair Avalon. Whether she abandoned the grove, or the gargoyles claim took it, or if the legend is even true, the glade definitely hums with magic running through every grass and leaf.
Not done, but getting there! :) Enjoy the eye candy.
|Mector, the Leader, and his mate/Second-in-Command, Talia... all set for a night on the beach. You can tell they're thrilled. ;)||Nina: herbalist, healer, and not always that social.|
|Resident astrologer Arin takes some time with her computer-hating mate Liam and one of the resident guard beasts (TOC, of course, always bring on the watch).||Typical Meg (about to kill a misbehaving machine) and her somewhat more steady clanmate Troy.|
Ok, here's some random info that is partially based on what I've written so far, and maybe a few hints for things I'm still just planning. And just in case people aren't really sure they actually want to see this, you have to highlight the text for it to show up (or read the code, but why you'd bother going that way is beyond me).
Upon Sadie's death, Megan becomes the Recorder. Her mate just happens to be a gargoyle from ancient Rome, whose clan was run out of town for killing the mad emperor Caligula. Then he and his sister were frozen to death in the alps just at sunset, a unique set up that allowed them to be revived at some point in the 21st century, upon which Doctor Servarius got his hands on them to experiment, a fate Meg saved them from. While the sister died, she still hangs around occasionally as a ghost.
Sadie's not entirely dead. She also hangs around as a ghost, focused on her mortal, and now eternally stone, remains. She does this because she managed to convince a certain member of Oberon's Children to give her leniency until she's completed a task.
Sadie has/had limited magical ability. Her main talent was seeing the future, and even this was a rather erratic skill.
Lexington and Nicole, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G....
While Tate is half human, fay blood also flows in the veins of many of the clan in small amounts. Blame Sadie.
Sadie is Demona's daughter.
Nina is like Tate- she's not all gargoyle.
Steve has a lot more issues than people would guess. Not only is he extremely phobic of fire, he happens to be bi.
There's a really big, nasty prophecy looming over the clan (if you really want to check it out, it's at the end of Interlude - now unlinked because it looked silly). It promises the end of everything, and it seems that it could be fulfilled very soon....
The numbers of the clan are getting so low, inbreeding is becoming a problem. Had the massacre not happened, many of the eggs wouldn't have hatched, and there would have been issues amongst those that did. Nicole's blindness is just the start of the clan's difficulties with this issue.
The Illuminati is out there.... and a lot closer and more involved than you might think. Fnord.
Possible titles that may be seen in the near(ish) future: Demon's Daughter; Shedding Stone; Cascading Dreams; Dirty Laundry.
Ever wonder what the clan sounds like, or would look like in real life? Well, normally, neither would I, but every now and again the creativity daemons get weird. So here's some people that I sometimes randomly ponder as good for voice acting (and on some, perhaps live acting). No, I do not consider any of this ever happening, but it provides me with an amusing diversion- and lets people know just what I enjoy(ed) watching. Feel free to disagree and suggest alternatives! Though I have gotten attatched to the choices for Sadie, Mector, Talia, and Frank. :) Names are linked are to IMDB profiles.
Eric: Nicholas Cage- live and voice
Mector: Michael Weiss- live and voice
Sadie: Judi Dench- live and voice
Arin: Natalie Cole- live and voice
Frank: Ewan McGregor- voice and live
Talia: Claudia Christian- live and voice
Troy: Heath Ledger- live and voice
Steve: Shawn Ashmore- live and voice
for a low quality voice clip/visual in quicktime, head over HERE
Megan: Nadia Nascimento- live and voice
for a low quality voice clip/visual in quicktime, head over HERE
Tate: Christopher Ralph- live and voice
for a low quality voice clip/visual in quicktime, head over HERE
Silicon: Dean Cain- voice, perhaps reluctantly live
Mariah: Amanda Tapping- live and voice
Art: Michael Shanks- live and voice
Feris: Kevin Spacey- live and voice
Angel: Gwyneth Paltrow- live and voice
Liam: Andreas Katsulas- live and voice
Jay: Julia Stiles- live and voice, but I'm still not sure... she's TOO pretty... and the same last name trips me out since I considered her before knowing who she was.... Yet I'll be blasted if I can figure out who else.... For sheer silliness I'll mention Brooke Nevin. Still too pretty, but here is why for the silly factor. Other suggestions?
Thanks usually go to my proof readers at this point, but 'cause I was stupid and didn't use one this time, extra thanks must go to Benjamin for catching me on a major oops. And yes, they would bring Greg back in. :)
This way back to the fiction
Away! Back to the main page and sanity!
Art done by the ever stunning Dogmatix, and therefore belongs to her.
Standard disclaimer: Disney owns Gargoyles, and many of the ideas and basic priciples of gargoyles within this document. No infringement is intended, merely homage. However, I retain rights to the characters and original ideas above. You need to ask if you want to use them.