Earth Kin [Elemental]

Pech come from the plane of earth, though some keep sprawling mines in the deepest reaches of the material world. They live in darkness and work stone. A pech is lean and long-limbed, with wide hands and feet ideal for bracing against rock and wielding tools. Its skin is pale yellow, its hair red or russet, and its flesh almost as hard as granite. The large eyes have no pupils, and pech see 120 feet with infravision.

They carry picks and peat hammers, which count as war hammers, in roughly equal numbers, using the same tools for mining and fighting, and all have 18/50 Strength. Every pech can cast stone shape and stone tell four times a day each. Four working together can raise a wall of stone as a 16th-level mage, and eight together can cast stone to flesh; any group may cast its combined spell only once a day. Pech cannot be petrified.

Their deep understanding of stone makes them deadly to stony monsters such as galeb duhr, gargoyles and stone golems. Against such foes pech attack at full effect even with mundane weapons, and every hit deals maximum damage.

Good and peaceable, pech just want privacy. Open sky and bright light bother them, and they quickly ask visitors to put out their lamps. Their lairs are riddled with narrow choke points so a wall of stone can seal out invaders fast. A lair holds 10-40 adults, half female and half male, plus young numbering 20-50% of the females.

Their home plane is harsh, so many come to the material world hoping for a better life, and few creatures there oppose them. They hoard little, mining mostly to trade for food or services, though they craft plain, modest decorative items for daily use. A lair may hold 50-100 trade gems and 5-30 stone and raw-metal dishes and utensils worth about 150 gp each.

These silicate beings from the plane of earth resemble mounds of sand and can change color to match their surroundings. Their temperature always matches the environment, and spells that work on the mind, from sleep and charm to hold, simply fail. Each claims a territory whose borders only it can perceive.

A sandling is not aggressive unless provoked, but it defends its ground. Stepping on one triggers a reflexive upward surge that engulfs one or two man-sized victims, who suffer a -2 penalty on surprise rolls; if it hits, they can neither attack nor defend for 1d4 rounds. It also slashes with a scouring pseudopod. Pouring 10 gallons or more of water over it slows it as the slow spell and halves its damage.

No sandling society exists; their fierce territoriality rules out cooperation even with their own kind. They eat minerals and loathe organic matter, always relocating several hundred yards away from wherever they slew a trespasser. Each one grows to its full 10-foot diameter and then reproduces by budding. Buds break off at roughly 2 inches, and a grown sandling's land may teem with thousands of them; once a youngster reaches 6 inches across it must either depart to claim ground elsewhere or be hunted down by the parent. A carpet of infants forms a bumpy surface that can trip careless walkers.

Taking only a sliver of the minerals in any area, sandlings barely affect the ecosystem. Dwarves sometimes seek them out hoping to find rich deposits. They supposedly make superb mortar, a practice the sandlings, and many druids, resent.