Towers of the Beast
On the moon-like surface of a great cosmic beast born from the accretion disc of a supermassive black hole, gigantic, misshapen towers encompass sensitive quills. At the base of these tower, tiny in comparison, are clusters of hard organic pods. From these pods are born the Argad, blue-skinned humanoid beings with one purpose: to serve the beast.
The Argad emerge fully grown. They have no hair, no nails or teeth. They do not eat or sleep, only resting occasionally to catch their breath. They show no interest in their surroundings other than to orient them towards their tower’s gaping entrance.
Once inside they immediately begin to climb an immense spiral stairway that winds all the way up to the top of the tower. A great quill of the beast stands erect within the centre of each tower, wider than the span of four Argad hand in hand, though no Argad would touch the dark, serrated surface.
As the Argad climb they sing wordlessly, the sound reverberating from the stone of the tower to join in the chorus of hundreds of other voices spanning the tower. Though there are many of them, the Argad sing in glorious harmony. Their song is absorbed by the quills, the vibration soothing the great beast, keeping it sane. Without the song the beast would exist in agony.
The climb is long, to the crest of the tower. The Argad are distracted by their devotion, having little time or inclination to ponder their existence. When the spiral finally ends, they walk out onto a flat open surface and are greeted by the towers’ Onu, those cadaverous, winged psychopomps. The Argad feels not fear, but awe. They walk into the embrace of the Onu, who absorbs the meagre sum of their experiences. The body of the Argad immediately begins for calcify and crumble to dust, drifting to join the regolith on the surface of the mighty, ponderous beast.
The Argad emerge fully grown. They have no hair, no nails or teeth. They do not eat or sleep, only resting occasionally to catch their breath. They show no interest in their surroundings other than to orient them towards their tower’s gaping entrance.
Once inside they immediately begin to climb an immense spiral stairway that winds all the way up to the top of the tower. A great quill of the beast stands erect within the centre of each tower, wider than the span of four Argad hand in hand, though no Argad would touch the dark, serrated surface.
As the Argad climb they sing wordlessly, the sound reverberating from the stone of the tower to join in the chorus of hundreds of other voices spanning the tower. Though there are many of them, the Argad sing in glorious harmony. Their song is absorbed by the quills, the vibration soothing the great beast, keeping it sane. Without the song the beast would exist in agony.
The climb is long, to the crest of the tower. The Argad are distracted by their devotion, having little time or inclination to ponder their existence. When the spiral finally ends, they walk out onto a flat open surface and are greeted by the towers’ Onu, those cadaverous, winged psychopomps. The Argad feels not fear, but awe. They walk into the embrace of the Onu, who absorbs the meagre sum of their experiences. The body of the Argad immediately begins for calcify and crumble to dust, drifting to join the regolith on the surface of the mighty, ponderous beast.
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