# Vast Stone Towers

Only the incredible, unhuman massiveness of these vast stone towers and
ramparts had saved the frightful things from utter annihilation in the hundreds
of thousands—perhaps millions—of years it had brooded there amidst the blasts
of a bleak upland. "Corona Mundi—Roof of the World—" All sorts of fantastic
phrases sprang to our lips as we looked dizzily down at the unbelievable
spectacle. I thought again of the eldritch primal myths that had so
persistently haunted me since my first sight of this dead antarctic world—of
the demoniac plateau of Leng, of the Mi-Go, or abominable Snow Men of the
Himalayas, of the Pnakotic Manuscripts with their prehuman implications, of the
Cthulhu cult, of the Necronomicon, and of the Hyperborean legends of formless
Tsathoggua and the worse than formless star spawn associated with that
semientity.

For boundless miles in every direction the thing stretched off with very little
thinning; indeed, as our eyes followed it to the right and left along the base
of the low, gradual foothills which separated it from the actual mountain rim,
we decided that we could see no thinning at all except for an interruption at
the left of the pass through which we had come. We had merely struck, at
random, a limited part of something of incalculable extent. The foothills were
more sparsely sprinkled with grotesque stone structures, linking the terrible
city to the already familiar cubes and ramparts which evidently formed its
mountain outposts. These latter, as well as the queer cave mouths, were as
thick on the inner as on the outer sides of the mountains.