The Hills of Gezzeri rise along the western reaches of the Sandreach Mountains as a series of broken cliffs and eroded canyon walls, not tall enough to trap moisture but jagged enough to hide in. The Gezzerin people have made a life here, and the word is used loosely: the Hills receive almost no rainfall, springs are contested, and the nearest open water requires a full day's march across exposed terrain.
The Gezzerin answer to water scarcity is extraction — condensation traps set into north-facing rock faces, channels carved to route what little dew collects before sunrise, and a strict rationing culture that treats a wasted mouthful as a serious offense. Their dwellings are cut directly into the cliff faces, with narrow entrances that can be sealed from inside with fitted stone plugs. This serves two purposes: it keeps what little moisture they accumulate from evaporating, and it keeps giants out.
The giant threat is not abstract. Giants range the Sandreach foothills and have learned that Gezzerin settlements sometimes cache water and dried provisions. A Gezzerin village's first line of defense is invisibility — when a giant is spotted on the ridgeline, everyone disappears into the rock and the entrance stones go in behind them. Gezzerin children learn to move to their sealed door in complete silence before they learn to read.