Primal dragons are exciting because they’re new—true dragons that tradition hasn’t yet put its stamp on, with some planar flavor to boot. Brine dragons appear to be the Machiavellis of the family, interested in power for its own sake. In fact, the cutthroat characters of many peninsular city-states’ governments may be due to the influence of brine dragons (or to seaside princes seeking to emulate them).
Unbeknownst to surface-dwellers, the oceans are home to fiercely territorial empires. The citizens of Floris were not aware that they verged upon a brine dragon’s domain until the morning they awoke to her sahuagin centurions occupying the ports.
The brine dragon Klettiraxis collects humanoids the way a rare-book collector hoards first editions. He stores his prize possessions in air bubbles on the Plane of Water, where they remain trapped by his magic and their own sad lack of gills.
Grandfather Tide, as he is known, would claim to be a simple wyrm who wishes to be left alone. But for more than a hundred miles in each direction, halfling boat people leave a portion of every catch for him, locathah seek him out for baptisms, and merfolk seers refuse to even speak of him.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 94–95
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