Krom the Pan gazed across the mighty range of the mountains known in the Pangean tongue as the Stonefangs. His long journey of several seasons had taken him through at least five provinces, beginning in the rolling hills of Greenbriar, up through the icy paths of the Frost King, and now finally to the northernmost peaks of Greyrock. The Pan looked up to the sky and bellowed a roar of rage, for despite his arduous searches, the mountain range was as barren of the essence of earth magic as an Abyssian woman. Krom’s blood boiled in range at the passing of the ancient magicks and shuddered at the thought of how his master, the Fair Lady, would react when she learned that somehow an entire range of mountains could not produce a single gem of the earth. Surely she would assume he had just been lounging back in Greenbriar the whole year with his maenad harem so his thoughts turned to wondering if there were any anti-petrification items in his grimoire…
