The Tower of Phorb hosts nightly egg-marshalling contests. Enormous coffin-bird eggs are drained of amnion and charged with orb-hydrogen. Jockeyed by asinine Lords of the Proprium Fatherhood, they surge aloft, finding grateful obliteration in the hovering gauntlet of excruciation.
This conical observatory bears eternal witness to the military exploits of Saint Fritillary, who defended the honour of Deep Plasm on the Dodecahedron of Meniscus. His armoury was idiosyncratic and said to include dirigible moisture, sortilege, the insufferable yowling of Melanie-Hawks, trebuchets of bitterness and gloom, biplanes of moonstone and chalcedony, a squadron of conjoined triplets sleeved in gutta-percha, and not less than three umbrellas of desolation. Saint Fritillary himself wore a crystal halbegellum, and behind him, shimmering between realities, stood a troupe of grey recursive archers.
Lastly, the Birth-Clinic of Mercurius, where the universally renowned alchemist was originally extracted from his esoteric growth medium. Immediately upon gaining awareness he set about his experimentations. You may notice a child’s alembic to the right of the building, together with other tools of discovery. The molten appearance of many of Deep Plasm’s structures is said to have been caused by the Child Mercurius’ early, somewhat disastrous experiments in temporal cementation.