Some say that it was once a second moon. When viewed against the horizon, it’s easy to see why; the mountain is perfectly round when observed from any direction, and widest at its midsection. If positioned just right during dusk or dawn, its presence can cause the illusion of a total eclipse.
Today it is known as “the Wandering Pearl” in the Hyperborean tongue, but its name has changed many times during the course of its endless migration. For the past several hundred thousand years, it has wandered slowly across the planet’s surface, rolling ever onward from frontier to frontier. Though it appears to be stationary at any given moment, every point along its exterior has, at some point in time, been the mountain’s peak. A river marks the path it has taken across geological time, leading from its current position in the steppes down to a shoreline it emerged from after an eon spent underwater.
The majority of the mountain’s composition is uncertain, but it is known to have a magnetic core. Though its exterior is covered in veins of hematite dust, none of it slides down to the world below, even from the loose deposits that pepper its lower hemisphere. Climbers take advantage of this property, using magnetic tools to scale its underbelly in defiance of gravity. While this is beneficial during the first half of their journey as they dangle in the mountain’s shadow, their packs become significantly heavier once they’ve passed the equator.
Over time, emperors from all over the world have claimed ownership of the mountain, and some have even attempted to construct cities on its upper hemisphere. Only a few ruins of such endeavors can still be found; what few structures haven’t fallen off during the course of the mountain’s journey have been pulverized completely under its weight. Though little evidence remains of these civilizations upon its russet face, the graves that they left behind are still intact.