The gargoyles of the Red City cannot fly; the wings of fossilized coral that they carry on their backs serve as an ever-present reminder that they were built by humanity to surveil in stillness. Even so, they shamble through the streets of the city at night on legs that groan in defiance of their stone composition.
Together, they congregate in what remains of their cathedral. Though their faces are locked in devilish grins, they still manage to demonstrate sincere reverence through the unison of their silent prayer. It pains them to kneel, yet they do so without complaint as they encircle the sphere of black iron that centers their sanctuary.
In this manner, they worship the worldly manifestation of their God's vengeance: the wrecking ball which set them free.