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Renard and Brock's Super Gargoyle Growth Drive - Chapter 3
Much thanks and congratulations for helping us hit that first Boon Goal, folks! You'll notice that the effect of all donations is now doubled, literally increasing the good times!
Art ©
rockytheprocy Story © c'est moi Nawlins © 
zandenel
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Foiling a terrorist plot, it appeared, was the fastest way to make friends with the United Nations. The Manhattan Clan’s rout of the Quarrymen at the Summit was a breakthrough in political relations between humans and gargoyles, and everyone knew exactly who to thank: the new Clan Leader. Brooklyn had never been more popular; he was receiving not only accolades and letters of thanks from world leaders, but he was also receiving considerable amounts of fan mail from regular people. Apparently, quite a few men and women found the prospect of a thickly muscled avenger of the night more than a little appealing.
The other gargoyle clans also sent their congratulations; in both the human and gargoyle world, Brooklyn had become the toast of the town. Not even Goliath had known such a sudden surge in popularity. For once, Brooklyn was comfortable, stretching out his muscular body in his throne-like chair in Castle Wyvern’s Great Hall and grinning. His desk was still covered with papers, but they were all gushing with praise and thanks. There was one matter left, however. One prominent paper had the United Nations logo on its heading, and began with the words “The Secretary General of the UN.” Brooklyn frowned as he read it over; the UN wanted to declare Castle Wyvern under its protection, and send UN Peacekeeping Forces to guard the Manhattan Clan’s rookery during the day.
As he looked over the letter, Puck appeared in a puff of smoke. “Oh, well, look at Mr. Popular.”
“Not now, Puck. I need to think this over,” Brooklyn muttered. “This is all backwards. Gargoyles don’t need protection, we’re the protectors.”
“And during the day?” Puck asked, looking over Brooklyn’s broad shoulder. “Or are you hoping the Quarrymen don’t have the idea to attack when the sun’s up?”
Brooklyn grumbled. “We can take care of ourselves. Besides, Xanatos isn’t going to let a bunch of Quarrymen crawl all over his tower.”
“You’re going to trust Xanatos?”
Brooklyn moved to respond, and then frowned as he looked back down at the letter. “...Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.”
For the first time in a thousand years, the walls and parapets of Castle Wyvern were lined with soldiers brandishing weapons, determined to defend the castle. The UN Peacekeeping Forces in their distinctive blue helmets were not the most intimidating soldiers the human world had to offer, but so far, they seemed to be doing their job. The only problem was that the Manhattan Clan found themselves with too much free time. There was no need to patrol the castle or the city, with Xanatos’ Steel Clan taking to the skies, so what were hardened warriors supposed to do in a time of peace?
As it turned out, anything they wanted. Lexington had locked himself in one of the castle’s towers with a massive amount of tech, Angela and Broadway settled into more of a state of wedded bliss, and Hudson remained where he had always been; the TV room. Brooklyn was left with even less to do, as even the tedium of paperwork was being taken over by diligent clerks from the UN. He tried to distract himself with working out; but to his and Xanatos’ dismay, the Eyrie Building’s gym was taken over by the UN soldiers, as well. They had to keep up their training at all times, they reasoned, but he was still welcome to work out alongside them. The only problem lay in the fact that with so many soldiers using so many of the weights and barbells the gym had to offer, there was little left for Brooklyn to actually use.
Somewhat defeated, Brooklyn slowly drifted towards the Kitchens. With the burgeoning numbers of the Manhattan Clan, someone had to feed them all, and that fell to one of the Clan’s newest members, Nawlins. Hailing from St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, Nawlins was definitely not the typical gargoyle. For one thing, he had the head of a bear. He was covered in wintery blue fur, and even his wings were feathery and soft. The other distinction was that he was huge. He was easily one of, if not the, fattest gargoyle Brooklyn had ever seen, with a pillowy chest resting atop a mammoth belly that pressed down on his strong, thick legs. Clearly, he thought highly of his own cooking.
“Ah, there’s the boss! How ya’ll doin’?” Nawlins called out from the stove. “Ya’ll just be in time fer some gumbo; take a sit, an’ I’ll fill you up a bowl.” He grinned, stirring a huge pot as it simmered.
“Hey, Brooklyn!” Broadway waved from his seat at the counter, smiling wide. The stout-bellied gargoyle looked wider than usual, and was sampling some garlic bread Nawlins had previously made.
“Hey, Broadway.” Brooklyn took the stool next to his friend. “You’re looking, uh… healthy.” He cast a cursive glance and a slight nudge at his rookery brother’s belly, which wobbled slightly.
The green gargoyle chuckled, “Hey, what can I say? Angela doesn’t seem to not like it, anyways… and Nawlins’ food is great! You gotta try some, he’s never made anything bad, ever!”
“Aw, shucks. I’m jus’ a good ol’ boy from th’ Deep South that knows t’ put a li’l meat on ya bones.” Nawlins lumbered over, and slid a bowl of thick, piping hot gumbo to Brooklyn. “Now ya’ll tell me that ain’t th’ finest bowl o’ gumbo this side o’ the Quarter.”
Brooklyn nearly gagged on the first bite; the gumbo was powerfully spiced, but several glasses of water later, he tried it again, and again… and soon the whole bowl was empty. There was a definite punch to Nawlins’ cooking, but a flavor that Brooklyn didn’t quite have enough of. After a second, third, and fourth helpings, he was finally satisfied, but not before Nawlins pulled something out of the oven.
“Time for some traditional ol’ Nawlins dessert; beignets!” the fat gargoyle declared, setting down a huge platter of square, fried pastries slathered in powdered sugar and honey. Broadway immediately began digging in, but Brooklyn was beginning to feel full.
“I’m not really sure I should have more… I’m pretty stuffed. It’s great food, but…” Brooklyn eyed the pastries; the sweet smell alone was tempting him.
“Aw, ya gotta have at least one, boss! Ya’ll hurt m’feelings otherwise,” Nawlins grinned.
The clan leader sighed, and grabbed a pastry. He was hooked on the first bite, and the entire platter was quickly devoured by the three gargoyles.
As the days, and then weeks, wore on, Brooklyn started drifting in more and more to Nawlins’ kitchen. It wasn’t as if he intended to; but with every other member of the clan preoccupied with new projects while the soldiers manned the walls, there wasn’t all that much else for him to do. And Nawlins was only too happy to have more people try his food. Still, it was having a pronounced effect on the clan leader; his muscles were losing their definition, and whatever firmness he had around his middle was slowly ebbing away. He still felt plenty strong, but he was losing that trimness that originally netted him so much fan mail after the Summit. At least he wasn’t as far gone as Broadway, however.
The broadest member of the Clan was living up to his name, and then some. Brooklyn found his friend sprawled on the kitchen floor, nursing his engorged stomach that had swollen up to the size of an average gargoyle all on its own. His face had ballooned, with multiple chins now resting on a doughy chest that sagged atop his boulder belly.
“Broadway! You okay?” Brooklyn asked out of concern. “Have you been here all day?”
“Uh…” Broadway had to stop to make way for a massive belch. “Yeah, why? Angela asking after me?”
“No, just… you’ve been eating all that time, too?” Brooklyn looked over his massively obese comrade.
“Well… yeah! You can’t say no to Nawlins’ cooking. Besides, not like we need to fight… it’s just a little bloat, don’t worry, if you need some Quarrymen crushed, Broadway…. urp!... is still your guy.”
“Hah, I ain’t never had as big a fan o’ my cookin’...” Nawlins said, lumbering towards Brooklyn. “Ya’ll jus’ take a seat, boss, an’ I’ll getcha somethin’ good.”
Brooklyn sat on a stool, and noticed how much his belly bulged out; and how little room the stool provided for his thickened thighs. “I, uh… I’m not sure, Nawlins… maybe we need to cut back on the rich food for a little bit…”
Nawlins chuckled as he carried over a platter of Beignets. “Aw, an’ what am I gon’ do with all these, boss?”
For Brooklyn, the sweet smells of Nawlins’ desserts had become his Achilles’ heel. All doubt was dropped as he smacked his lips, eyeing the delicious pastries. “Well… I can have one or two…”
One night later...
A) An inside job has Brooklyn and other members of the clan kidnapped!
B) Brooklyn decides to visit other gargoyle clans
C) Lexington discovers the location of a strange artifact, and Brooklyn leads an expedition
Art ©
rockytheprocy Story © c'est moi Nawlins © 
zandenel<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
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- Thank you ahead of time for participating and helping Brooklyn achieve greatness!Foiling a terrorist plot, it appeared, was the fastest way to make friends with the United Nations. The Manhattan Clan’s rout of the Quarrymen at the Summit was a breakthrough in political relations between humans and gargoyles, and everyone knew exactly who to thank: the new Clan Leader. Brooklyn had never been more popular; he was receiving not only accolades and letters of thanks from world leaders, but he was also receiving considerable amounts of fan mail from regular people. Apparently, quite a few men and women found the prospect of a thickly muscled avenger of the night more than a little appealing.
The other gargoyle clans also sent their congratulations; in both the human and gargoyle world, Brooklyn had become the toast of the town. Not even Goliath had known such a sudden surge in popularity. For once, Brooklyn was comfortable, stretching out his muscular body in his throne-like chair in Castle Wyvern’s Great Hall and grinning. His desk was still covered with papers, but they were all gushing with praise and thanks. There was one matter left, however. One prominent paper had the United Nations logo on its heading, and began with the words “The Secretary General of the UN.” Brooklyn frowned as he read it over; the UN wanted to declare Castle Wyvern under its protection, and send UN Peacekeeping Forces to guard the Manhattan Clan’s rookery during the day.
As he looked over the letter, Puck appeared in a puff of smoke. “Oh, well, look at Mr. Popular.”
“Not now, Puck. I need to think this over,” Brooklyn muttered. “This is all backwards. Gargoyles don’t need protection, we’re the protectors.”
“And during the day?” Puck asked, looking over Brooklyn’s broad shoulder. “Or are you hoping the Quarrymen don’t have the idea to attack when the sun’s up?”
Brooklyn grumbled. “We can take care of ourselves. Besides, Xanatos isn’t going to let a bunch of Quarrymen crawl all over his tower.”
“You’re going to trust Xanatos?”
Brooklyn moved to respond, and then frowned as he looked back down at the letter. “...Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.”
For the first time in a thousand years, the walls and parapets of Castle Wyvern were lined with soldiers brandishing weapons, determined to defend the castle. The UN Peacekeeping Forces in their distinctive blue helmets were not the most intimidating soldiers the human world had to offer, but so far, they seemed to be doing their job. The only problem was that the Manhattan Clan found themselves with too much free time. There was no need to patrol the castle or the city, with Xanatos’ Steel Clan taking to the skies, so what were hardened warriors supposed to do in a time of peace?
As it turned out, anything they wanted. Lexington had locked himself in one of the castle’s towers with a massive amount of tech, Angela and Broadway settled into more of a state of wedded bliss, and Hudson remained where he had always been; the TV room. Brooklyn was left with even less to do, as even the tedium of paperwork was being taken over by diligent clerks from the UN. He tried to distract himself with working out; but to his and Xanatos’ dismay, the Eyrie Building’s gym was taken over by the UN soldiers, as well. They had to keep up their training at all times, they reasoned, but he was still welcome to work out alongside them. The only problem lay in the fact that with so many soldiers using so many of the weights and barbells the gym had to offer, there was little left for Brooklyn to actually use.
Somewhat defeated, Brooklyn slowly drifted towards the Kitchens. With the burgeoning numbers of the Manhattan Clan, someone had to feed them all, and that fell to one of the Clan’s newest members, Nawlins. Hailing from St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, Nawlins was definitely not the typical gargoyle. For one thing, he had the head of a bear. He was covered in wintery blue fur, and even his wings were feathery and soft. The other distinction was that he was huge. He was easily one of, if not the, fattest gargoyle Brooklyn had ever seen, with a pillowy chest resting atop a mammoth belly that pressed down on his strong, thick legs. Clearly, he thought highly of his own cooking.
“Ah, there’s the boss! How ya’ll doin’?” Nawlins called out from the stove. “Ya’ll just be in time fer some gumbo; take a sit, an’ I’ll fill you up a bowl.” He grinned, stirring a huge pot as it simmered.
“Hey, Brooklyn!” Broadway waved from his seat at the counter, smiling wide. The stout-bellied gargoyle looked wider than usual, and was sampling some garlic bread Nawlins had previously made.
“Hey, Broadway.” Brooklyn took the stool next to his friend. “You’re looking, uh… healthy.” He cast a cursive glance and a slight nudge at his rookery brother’s belly, which wobbled slightly.
The green gargoyle chuckled, “Hey, what can I say? Angela doesn’t seem to not like it, anyways… and Nawlins’ food is great! You gotta try some, he’s never made anything bad, ever!”
“Aw, shucks. I’m jus’ a good ol’ boy from th’ Deep South that knows t’ put a li’l meat on ya bones.” Nawlins lumbered over, and slid a bowl of thick, piping hot gumbo to Brooklyn. “Now ya’ll tell me that ain’t th’ finest bowl o’ gumbo this side o’ the Quarter.”
Brooklyn nearly gagged on the first bite; the gumbo was powerfully spiced, but several glasses of water later, he tried it again, and again… and soon the whole bowl was empty. There was a definite punch to Nawlins’ cooking, but a flavor that Brooklyn didn’t quite have enough of. After a second, third, and fourth helpings, he was finally satisfied, but not before Nawlins pulled something out of the oven.
“Time for some traditional ol’ Nawlins dessert; beignets!” the fat gargoyle declared, setting down a huge platter of square, fried pastries slathered in powdered sugar and honey. Broadway immediately began digging in, but Brooklyn was beginning to feel full.
“I’m not really sure I should have more… I’m pretty stuffed. It’s great food, but…” Brooklyn eyed the pastries; the sweet smell alone was tempting him.
“Aw, ya gotta have at least one, boss! Ya’ll hurt m’feelings otherwise,” Nawlins grinned.
The clan leader sighed, and grabbed a pastry. He was hooked on the first bite, and the entire platter was quickly devoured by the three gargoyles.
As the days, and then weeks, wore on, Brooklyn started drifting in more and more to Nawlins’ kitchen. It wasn’t as if he intended to; but with every other member of the clan preoccupied with new projects while the soldiers manned the walls, there wasn’t all that much else for him to do. And Nawlins was only too happy to have more people try his food. Still, it was having a pronounced effect on the clan leader; his muscles were losing their definition, and whatever firmness he had around his middle was slowly ebbing away. He still felt plenty strong, but he was losing that trimness that originally netted him so much fan mail after the Summit. At least he wasn’t as far gone as Broadway, however.
The broadest member of the Clan was living up to his name, and then some. Brooklyn found his friend sprawled on the kitchen floor, nursing his engorged stomach that had swollen up to the size of an average gargoyle all on its own. His face had ballooned, with multiple chins now resting on a doughy chest that sagged atop his boulder belly.
“Broadway! You okay?” Brooklyn asked out of concern. “Have you been here all day?”
“Uh…” Broadway had to stop to make way for a massive belch. “Yeah, why? Angela asking after me?”
“No, just… you’ve been eating all that time, too?” Brooklyn looked over his massively obese comrade.
“Well… yeah! You can’t say no to Nawlins’ cooking. Besides, not like we need to fight… it’s just a little bloat, don’t worry, if you need some Quarrymen crushed, Broadway…. urp!... is still your guy.”
“Hah, I ain’t never had as big a fan o’ my cookin’...” Nawlins said, lumbering towards Brooklyn. “Ya’ll jus’ take a seat, boss, an’ I’ll getcha somethin’ good.”
Brooklyn sat on a stool, and noticed how much his belly bulged out; and how little room the stool provided for his thickened thighs. “I, uh… I’m not sure, Nawlins… maybe we need to cut back on the rich food for a little bit…”
Nawlins chuckled as he carried over a platter of Beignets. “Aw, an’ what am I gon’ do with all these, boss?”
For Brooklyn, the sweet smells of Nawlins’ desserts had become his Achilles’ heel. All doubt was dropped as he smacked his lips, eyeing the delicious pastries. “Well… I can have one or two…”
One night later...
A) An inside job has Brooklyn and other members of the clan kidnapped!
B) Brooklyn decides to visit other gargoyle clans
C) Lexington discovers the location of a strange artifact, and Brooklyn leads an expedition
Category All / Muscle
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 980 x 700px
File Size 574.5 kB
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