This plane is rough, mostly composed of green verdant rolling hills, craggy mountains, and cold streams. The people here are hardy nomads who make their villages on the coast with large longships capable of whisking away the entire population with a moment’s notice. Why do they need the escape route? Because of the titan.
The titan is massive, larger than the largest colossal red dragon. It is a living mountain that destroys all in its path. It is the creation of a mad wizard from the end of a war that ripped the world apart. Kings fought with their massive armies massed across the valleys. Arrows blotted out the sky and the cold rivers ran red hot with blood. The wizard performed a strange arcane ritual, removing his heart and placing it deep into the heart of the mountain. He died, and his monster rose forth to crush the armies.
Nothing could stop it, what good is an arrow against a mountain? No magic could penetrate its impervious stoney hide. Crawling forth from every crag and every nook came wretched titanspawn living on its back. It slaughtered entire kingdoms, until all that remained were ragtag refugees fleeing its path, looking for any where that could be considered safe. There is a legend tied to the birth of the Titan, breathed cautiously around the campfire. The titan can be defeated. The Titanspawn must hide somewhere when not raiding, they must take their captives somewhere to eat them and torture them. One warrior who survived his ordeal with the titanspawn long enough to escape raved about it before dying of exhaustion.
There is an enterance to the Titan on its back, and within its body it is hollow. There the titanspawn rest within the massive complex, they build and carve within its body, and feed the furnace that is the Titan’s heart with dark rituals. The Titan generally slumbers for years far to the north, but then will rise up going on a rampage until there is nothing left standing, then he will slumber once more.