They lay the foundations upon which to stand and to reach in majestic splendour against the skies. They are the bound ones, the dwelling ones, ever solid, sturdy against shifts and unruly change. They are the restingplace and containers of fiery magma and embers, fortresses against the deconstruction elemental. Foundation is their language. The rumbling of tectonic collision is their song.
From the days of old Arcania these are praised by the mountain dwellers of the worlds, dwarves and trolls, orks, goblins and gnomes, extending to these races a symbol of the immovable nest, the unbendable will, the stern and the rigid nature. That, which endures in an unforseeable world.