Gargoyle Broodling

"Gods, they're like worse alley cats. One moment they're guarding your rooftop from evil spirits, which they think includes laundry lines, and the next they're clinging to your chimney, howling about honour because they lost a shiny pebble. Still, you'll never find a more enthusiastic defender of a tea kettle."

— Tomm Scuttle

 

Tiny, Mean Pepper Shakers

  Broodlings are to fully grown gargoyles what a rowdy group of toddlers is to a tightly run military parade - smaller, less coordinated, and very, very prone to mischief. Unlike their elder counterparts, who pride themselves on being immovable sentinels of stone, broodlings have all the patience of a sugar-rushed squirrel and about as much grace. These pint-sized protectors sprout from the flanks of larger gargoyles, popping off like unruly barnacles when they feel "ready" (a term which here means "bored enough to want to try flying").   Physically, they look like the standard gargoyle you might find perched atop a cathedral or similarly stony and dramatic building, but scaled down to the size of a rather fat cat. Their wings are too small to actually fly, resulting in a sort of controlled plummet that they insist is flight. Their stone claws leave faint scratches on walls and ceilings as they scramble about, testing their ability to "guard" by ambushing unwary pigeons or, more often, chasing their own tails.  

The Peculiar & Persistent

  Despite their antics, broodlings are taken very seriously by their elders, who see them as the future guardians of their born city. Their training is rigorous, albeit peculiar. Lessons include "The Art of the Looming Glare", "Pigeon Distraction 101", and "Staring Down Rain Without Blinking". Occasionally, a particularly enthusiastic broodling will "guard" a random object, such as a broom or misplaced boot, refusing to relinquish it until their elder scolds them into sense - or until they get distracted by something shinier.   Those who live around where the gargoyles guard often tolerate them with bemused affection. While they're known to knock over flower pots and swipe shiny baubles, they also scare off would-be thieves and have been caught in the act of saving a kitten or two. Despite their flaws, they carry the same innate protective instincts as their elders. One might call them the clumsy apprentices of stone guardianship. Just don't call them "cute" within earshot. They hate that.