Land Whales
Sui generis
A combination of mammal and fungi, these gentle behemoths graze the Verge Plains of the Continent, feeding on the fast-growing Creepers. They are keystone creatures in Lume's ecosystem, known to graze an area before moving on, effectively removing the surface growth of the intrusive, semi-sentient plant.
Their physiology affords them distinct attributes. Their flesh is dense and comparatively light, much like a mushroom, with a uniquely osseous nervous system. The skeleton is currently understood to be formed from hardened, prehensile ganglia and peripheral nervous system. Their undersides are dotted with small, circular mouths that grind the tough plant fibres into a paste. This nourishment is digested inside the mouths, and later assimilated into their flesh without first passing through a typical digestive tract. Few scholars are willing to kill the affable creatures to conduct a detailed autopsy, and the Land Whales fervently guard their dead. Their flesh is blubbery and contains little sustenance in any reasonably edible quantity. The Frost Giants make use of their hides, eating only the most nutritious body parts, and use the remainder as cattle feed, adding any remnants to their massive compost pits. Due to their size and low nutritional content, these enormous creatures have adapted and flourished in the plains of the Continent. They prevent the Creepers from colonising, keep carnivorous and invasive Flora at bay, provide sanctuary for avian species to shelter from predators in an often barren landscape, and their excrement spreads rich fertilizer.
Initially used as organic, industrial harvesters by the Deumana, they were so successful at combating the Creepers that they were installed as permanent residents, even before the Schism. Thus the Walkers do not molest them, and they are generally tolerated by other inhabitants. If brutally provoked they are capable of defending themselves, using their substantial mass to crush or smother an opponent, later regrowing any flesh or limb lost as consequence. They walk on 8-12 trunk-like limbs, and are roughly ellipsoidal. Their hide is covered in photosensitive splashes of colour, serving as rudimentary eyes. They procreate by circulating pollen into the air, and are hermaphrodites, requiring the pollen of another of their kin to become impregnated. This manifests on their upper surface as rounded, mushroom-cap growths, siphoning nutrients until large enough to detach themselves. These tripodal toadstools are not entirely vulnerable even when young, their fleshy exterior suffused with strong neurotoxins. Once they have developed a larger mass and more limbs, they leave the security of their parent, to wander with the herd.
The whale-song is hauntingly beautiful; each creature producing a chorus of minstrels young and old. Their voices range from piping to syrupy, gravel to bassy, their music resounding over the plains as they communicate with each other. Bards have tried for cycles to replicate this choir, and while none have come close, it has resulted in the invention of some ingenious instruments.
