Few know the origins of panic, when it occurred it was long ago and it has dated back to far to log by now, but I was there.
My name is Pan, when I was born it began a destiny I was not fully prepared for. Scholars argue and I will agree before you that I myself can not recall my origins, whether you agree I was born the child of Hermes by the daughter of Dryops, by Callisto, by Oeneis or Thymbris, the son of Aether and Oeneis, or a Nereid, or a son of Uranus and Ge. If you believe I exsist at all. I am all the same unchanged, abandoned, discarded, forsaken and unaffected. My preference would fall to the tale of origin involving Hermes and Penelope, for whom it is said the god visited my mother in the shape of a ram, I enjoy this tale for the unadorned selfish verity that it may explain my circumstance, but not my life. You see when a child such as myself is born to an unsuspecting mother it is understandable her reaction. I was from this birth as perfectly developed as I stand before you, and will maintain the same appearance long after I have left, that is, I had these horns, a smaller but equally thick brown beard, puck nose and tail, the feet of a manly goat, and was covered with hair, I was a sight I would say. So it may be condonable that my mother would run away with such fear, and thus began a life, so innocent, which would go down in history of panic.