Free 1.3

Sundays were reserved for practice. I had mostly completed the sarinx, enough to make sounds. Not intelligible sounds, but a wide variety nonetheless. Now it would be a simple matter of practice and refinement.

And I let my entrepreneurial side out of its box for half an hour. Probably the lack of caffeine.

x x x

Topic: Gryphon Makes a Movie
In: Boards ► Heroes ► Independent

Gryphon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Posted on February 13, 2011:

Many of you know my view on the mythical griffin as an ill-conceived design that would be completely useless due to size. It would however be possible for me to make a smaller model. A much smaller model. Kitten small.

That's right. I've started a EntLift here and if it reaches the goal I will post an adorable video of griffin me. There are higher tiers for those wanting additional videos of the creatures of their choosing.

Thanks for all your support.
-Gryphon

x x x

So now I had to work on making a griffin. Simple, I'd do it the same way I made Cerberus: start with a real animal and build up. That I had to spend most of Sunday looking at cat videos on the internet was entirely accidental.

Monday morning I started to track down the Merchants. I started a slow, lazy loop around the docks. Still too early for most people to be out. February mornings with a stiff breeze coming in off the ocean made everyone miserable.

I could see the area slowly come to life. The shopkeepers show up first and started opening their shops. Then the day shift workers came in, stopping for coffee or baked goods. The night shifts were relieved and went home. Finally the nine-to-fivers arrived.

The docks were my turf. I didn't allow muggings or assaults during this time. It was all about consistency. Protect this area every weekday for these times and the citizens would eventually catch on. I didn't have to declare it, but they knew. A lot of the tension had decreased, people weren't looking over their shoulders as much.

As I protected I searched. I wanted a low traffic operation, the asshole selling out of the back of their car or the bum selling out of his apartment. Harder to find but easier to track. Besides, if I got bored with tailing them I could always bust them. They had to keep their drugs and cash on hand so it was a guaranteed payday. That's what happened with the last Merchant I tailed. Something I regretted now.

Most drug sales were made in a high traffic thoroughfare operation. The addict would talk to a front man, the cashier. He, of course, didn't have any drugs on him. The cashier would then signal the addict to go further down to the pharmacist.

A runner regularly took the cashier's money, and yet another runner supplied the pharmacist. The amount of cash and drugs on any one person at any one time were always kept at low levels.

The high traffic operations were easier to spot from the air. The problem lay in following the runners. They moved through buildings or just stopped to chat with random people for half an hour at a time. The few times I managed to follow a runner back to a stash the trail went cold. There was no guarantee that a stash would be replenished. The two I'd found were allowed to run dry.

Hitting the operation itself was an exercise in futility. The stations and stashes were kept far enough apart so I might be able to hit one, but the others would get away. The stashes themselves were broken up, a single stash didn't even have enough drugs for a single day.

The payoff was too small to call in backup. Well, maybe Glory Girl; Brandish didn't allow her girls to receive bounties.

So I followed a semi-randomly pattern looking for suspicious cars while practicing my ABCs. With the physical structure approximated I just had to practice and refine. "Uhhh… Uh… Uh… Ah… A… A… A… Puh… Puh… Peh… Peh… Beh… B… B… B… A… B… Shuh…"

Frustrating.

My noon check on my phone showed that the PRT had sent a list of times available for patrols. I'd hoped, vainly, that they'd just drop the idea.

I chose Thursday morning, it being the first date guaranteed to avoid the Wards.

I didn't find a suitable target Monday. The next day giant, mutated dogs interrupted my search. They had rammed into an armored car, knocking it over. Teenagers carrying sacks with money signs—nice touch—crawled out of the car and climbed onto the dogs, using bony spurs as handholds. That could not be comfortable. Even ignoring the spurs there were no saddles and dog backs were not designed to carry people, too bony.

I banked and climbed, keeping them in sight.

Cerberus was larger than any of Hellhound's dogs, but not necessarily stronger. I could probably take on one dog, maybe two, but three would brutally take me down. Grue would be a non-factor; darkness generation wouldn't impede Cerberus with her enhanced ears. I wasn't sure what Tattletale or Regent could do.

Against the four of them together I wouldn't stand a chance if they chose to fight. Maybe if I separated Hellhound from the others, but that was gambling on Regent and Tattletale being weak. No, better to observe for now. The Undersiders were small fry, but any information on a group of supervillains could be profitable.

Tattletale looked up briefly and then pointed at me. I felt a wing spasm. Again, harder. And again. Each spasm made me lose control, erratically dropping in height. I tried to stabilize, dropping lower and pulling way from the Undersiders but it was too late. Another spasm swung me sideways into a building. Unable to correct I went into free fall.

The ground came up to meet me. I head, or felt, a crunch. The room hummed and I heard a beep. I didn't move.

Needed to get out. Needed to escape.

I stayed still, listening. Counted out ten beeps. Nothing else. No one around.

Still daytime. Too busy to sneak out. Didn't want to wait. Needed to go. Needed to get out.

Kitty formed under the bed. The first and finished half of Kitty-Griffin, she was the most inconspicuous form I had, a gray tabby kitten.

I hopped out from under the bed and sauntered into the corridor. I was Cat. I was King. Of course I belonged here. Because I was Cat.

"Well what do we have here?"

I looked up at the man. White lab coat, doctor. I couldn't meow, so I just gave his shoe a quick sniff before stepping away.

"Oh no you don't." He reached under my chest and picked me up one-handed. Scratching me behind the ear he murmured, "No pets in the hospital." He tapped me on the nose. "Is that such a difficult rule? Come on. Let's get you out of here before someone has a sneezing fit."

'This is what you wanted so just- he's holding me. Can't get away. Let go, let go, let go- Shut up! It's fine. It's good, it's good, it's good. Come on, you're Gryphon. You're going to be fine.'

Curling one hand around me so I couldn't escape the doctor carried me, taking the stairs to the first floor. He opened a door marked security and gently placed me on a desk. A blue suited man looked up at him. "Can I help you, doctor?"

"Found this little fellow sniffing around up on the third floor."

The guard intercepted my attempt to get off the desk, placing me back down in the middle. "No collar. I can hold her for a little while, but then it'll probably have to go to the pound," he said.

"No need for that." The doctor shook his head. "It's a kitten. I'll let the staff know, someone will take her."

The doctor left and the security guard pulled out a string and played with me for a little while before I made a big show of yawning and curled up on the corner of his desk. Finally he left me alone, going out into the hospital to do a tour or chat with the nurses or something. He'd shut the door but that wasn't a problem. This room had windows that could open and shut.

I changed into Spider-Monkey and climbed out into the bushes. I definitely needed a stealth form. Maybe start with a chameleon and then-

"Gryphon, is that you?" I turned, mentally cursing. Glory Girl. "Of course it's you. Why are you here, is there someone you know here?" I quickly shook my head. "Public relations then?" Who was I to say no to a freely given alibi? I nodded.

"Wanna go in with me? I usually hang out in the children's ward while I'm waiting for Panacea to finish. The kids love me there. Today it's Mark's turn to choose the game and he usually does card games. Don't worry I won't let him choose Uno or Go Fish, that would be a little unfair to you. Now Rei you have to watch out for, she likes to cheat and she's pretty good at it. But she also expects you to cheat right back so it isn't like she's really cheating so much as she has a very liberal interpretation of the rules. Bohai almost always wins. Don't make any deals with him even if they sound good." She continued talking without pause as she dragged me back into the hospital.

The nurses stopped us, but a quick explanation that I was hypoallergenic and any fur or dander would disappear the next time I transformed satisfied them enough to boost the case up to an administrator who gave me access.

"Everyone, this is Gryphon. Gryphon this Rei, Mark, Bohai, Jeff, Alice, and I don't know who you are."

"Tiff," squeaked a blonde girl in a wheelchair.

"Well, nice to meet you Tiff. I'm Vicky." Glory Girl bent over and shook Tiff's hand.

The other children circled me like curious puppies. "Are you a hero?" I nodded. "Like Vicky?" I nodded again. "What can you do? Can you fly? Or lift cars? Or shoot lasers from your eyes?" I held up my hands to stop the deluge.

Faster to demonstrate. I Changed. Working on Cerberus I had first concentrated on turning into a a rottweiler. I never perfected the form, it didn't look like a purebred, but it was recognizable as a dog.

"Oh, wow." Rei jumped on me, squeezing me in a childish attempt to cuddle. I held still, sending a beseeching stare at Glory Girl. She seemed to notice. Or at least she pulled her off of me.

"So who wants to play a game?"

"Slapjack!" cheered Mark.

"Uh-uh." Glory Girl shook her head. "Told you last time that I can't play that."

"Fine," he grumbled, "then let's play Clue."

I made do with two score sheets. One to mark down and one to communicate my guesses. Glory Girl won the first game and Jeff won the second. In the middle of the third game Panacea's shift ended and she came to pick up her sister.

I called it a day.

Third time's the charm. Finally found Loud Mouth Bertha on Wednesday. Wouldn't have found her except she was loud. Yelling at customers was not very covert. I followed her until she went home, and called it a day. I'd have to pick it up again on Friday.

The message said I'd meet the Protectorate I'd be patrolling with outside of PRT headquarters. It was kind of a shame because I'd been hoping to see the Rig up close. I circled the parking lot five minutes early looking for any masked do-gooders.

Armsmaster stood by the front doors, fortunately a handrail ran up the middle of the stairs leading to the door. I glided down until I could grab it, perching on it, and looking towards Armsmaster.

"Gryphon?" he asked looking down at me.

"Yuh-ess," I answered.

He frowned. "I thought you couldn't speak."

"Lee-arr-nin," I managed.

"Good. We're going to be inspecting the junk yards today. How do you want to handle travel, would you prefer to fly or take my bike?"

I responded by changing into Spider-Monkey. I could fly any day but riding a tinkertech motorcycle, that was an opportunity. I clambered onto the seat behind Armsmaster, my top hands gripping his armor and my bottom the seat cushion.

Armsmaster lifted out a child sized helmet for me to wear. I objected but he pointed out the mic and headphones built into the helmet.

It was somewhat anti-climatic. Armsmaster followed all the rules of the road and didn't even show off his bike's acceleration. I might as well have been on any old bike. Not that I had been on a motorbike before, so it was still novel.

"Tinkers have more weak points than other capes," I heard through my helmet's speakers. "You can't attack someone in their civilian wear or at their home. But a Tinker's supply lines and their workshop are considered an extension of their cape persona. They're fair game.

"That's the PRT's biggest selling point to Tinkers. A safe workshop and a secure source of materials. Other Tinkers, even heroic ones, usually have to steal large amounts of supplies and set up their workshops in less than secure areas."

"Oh," I replied. Short and monosyllabic, but from what I knew of Armsmaster he probably appreciated that.

The first yard, Sam's Spare Parts, was in the south-east portion of town. As far away from the docks as possible while still being nominally part of Brockton Bay.

Armsmaster gestured towards the fence at a beware of dogs sign. "This is a good yard. It's guarded by dogs and inventory is done on paper as recommended by the PRT. Still vulnerable of course, but any theft is much more likely to be noticed. That and its distance from the docks makes this a low risk yard."

"Armsmaster," a large black man in faded coveralls called over, "how are you doing today?"

"Hello, Sam. This is Gryphon." I waved. "Had any problems recently?"

"No, can't say that I have. Couple of kids, but that's normal. Cold today." He jerked his thumb back towards his office. "You two want to come in for some coffee?"

"Not enough time today. Perhaps next time."

"Right, right. I'll keep a pot warm for you."

We walked around the fence, Armsmaster waving a wand over it. Some sort of doodad designed to detect replacements or repairs.

"I'm just checking if Sam's security has been compromised," he explained. "A check on the perimeter and a check of his recording gear and we'll be done here."

As we traveled to the second yard he pointed to seemingly random buildings. "That warehouse would be a terrible hideout for a Tinker. With the door open someone on the street could see directly inside."

A block later: "This one is too close to active businesses. People would notice and complain of any loud noises or foul odors."

The second yard was similar to the first. But Armsmaster pointed out the lack of dogs. We talked to the owners and checked their fence and surveillance system, both of which came up clean.

The third yard, Brockton Automotive Salvage, we just drove by. "Protectorate security inspections are optional. The owner declined."

He stopped the bike across the street. "See how this yard doesn't have dogs? Just a few security cameras? And their inventory system is computerized. Any tinker could break into this place with ease, take what they want, and erase any evidence. A yard like this might have such poor security for plausible deniability. I am not, of course, saying that this yard does such a thing. There is no evidence that they do."

I bobbed my head. Not sure what to make of it, was he telling me to go after Squealer and Trainwreck? Or had he already scheduled this for Thursday and just decided to drag me along? I'd expected something boring, like walking around a mall with Miss Militia while she talked about all the wonderful benefits the Protectorate offered.

Not that I was complaining, this was better and I was learning something. Even if I had to spend the day with Armsmaster.

"Right. Well, this was more or less a typical day for me. It's this or managing the Protectorate or working on my equipment. I was told that I should take you to dinner."

"Fi-uhn," I replied. Simpler to choke down a few bites than explain all over again that my taste and smell were messed up.

We stopped at a ramen stand next to the boardwalk. I just copied his order and requested a spoon, Armsmaster might be able to eat with chopsticks but that mystic art was beyond my humble abilities.

I tired a bite and decided it was too salty. Not sure if that was the ramen or my taste buds. I picked at until Armsmaster finished and then pushed my bowl over to him. He accepted.

"Gryphon," he said after he finished, "the Protectorate does a lot more good in the long run than you think. Containing Nilbog, fighting Endbringers, those are things that only an organization could handle. Sometimes, on the local level or over short periods of time, it doesn't look like we're doing much. But if you sit back and look at the big picture, we're needed."

Armsmaster was definitely giving me mixed messages. 'The Protectorate is the best thing since sliced bread, and, oh hey, as an independent hero how about you hunt down Squealer and Trainwreck?'

"Guh-ood," I said, not knowing what to say.

"I understand that you don't want to join right now. Fine. But the door will be open for you and I hope that you reconsider."

x x x

Topic: Gryphon Makes a Movie
In: Boards ► Heroes ► Independent

Gryphon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Posted on February 17, 2011:

Did not expect that much support. Not that I'm not grateful (I am, believe me, I am. All 100 slots for additional videos filled up!) but I'm going have to lay some ground rules on what I can and will transform into:

1. No nudity - goes without saying and directly leads into

2. No human parts - sorry, power limitation, unless you want something out of the uncanny valley.

3. Creature must be able to exist - could a mad scientist create this? Then I can probably do it. Animated skeletons are a no-go.

4. Size limitations - I can't do twenty-foot dragons or tardigrades. Power limitation.

5. No monster capes - I will not impersonate anybody living or dead.

If your choice violated any of those rules you should receive an e-mail in the next few days and you can choose something new. If you want a refund I will be happy to provide it.

On duplicate requests: if you requested a form someone already requested then you should also receive an e-mail in the next few days and you may request a new form. There were a large number of requests for dragons, but the details differed wildly between requests so I'm not going to count those as duplicates. However I promise that I will do a dragon, so if you want to request something new feel free to do so.

I'll try to get videos out weekly. The order will be determined by random number generator.
-Gryphon

x x x

Considering the amount of time it took me to perfect a new form's cosmetics it would take two years to complete all those videos. Maybe I'd get faster with time.

Really should have put in a higher price. Oh well, I'd still get the ad revenue from YouTube.