Paizo has featured a number of astrology/astronomy-related
monsters and locations (blink dogs come to mind, as do several adventure
locations in the Pathfinder Adventure
Path series)—not quite to the point of overuse, but it’s definitely been a
strong motif. That’s likely
because the stars and planets matter
in Golarion—the planets are real places you can visit, many sorcerous
bloodlines and oracle mysteries are related to the heavens, and there are dark
things living in the Void. Not
counting Spelljammer (where the stars weren’t mysterious, just new “dungeons”
to visit) the only other setting that’s been as concerned with celestial
movements was Eberron, whose dragons were obsessed with the Prophecy and whose
planets tracked the movements of the planes.
I bring this up, of course, because lunar nagas are star-obsessed. Naturally, they don’t have to be, if
you don’t want them to be—the default spell list makes a good case for a race
of spies or undead-hunters, too.
But let’s roll with the star obsession, because that makes adventure
planning easy. A subterranean naga
obsessed with stars is going to need a lair that winds up and down her
mountaintop—a perfect dungeon for exploring. A limbless naga fiddling with complicated telescopes is
going to need a host of minions to help, lots of magical aid, or even PCs to
run errands (or to try to steal from). Other awesome locations to find nagas: an orrery, a
planetarium, a stone circle, a crop circle, the site of desert geoglyphs, a
glacial observatory, a ruined wizard’s tower, a giant stone calendar or
sundial, and so on.
So however you want to use lunar nagas—as friends, foes,
foils, side treks, or even employers—they are your excuse to go big on the set
design.
An abandoned dwarven
monastery has been retooled as a human prison—the monks’ spare cells and
communal quarters being ideal for convicts. Wanting access to the monastery’s calendar room, the lunar
naga Ovenia decides a prison break would be the fastest way to clear the
facility. In her eagerness, she
chooses the night of the full moon, unaware that lycanthropy is sweeping through
the convict population.
The elven navy of
Weareth is known for its fine ships (some of which are alive or even
sentient), its magical might, and its navigational superiority. It is not always known for winning
battles, however—sometimes attacking ports seemingly at random, or breaking off
from engagements for no reason.
This is because the elves rarely fight just for political or economic
reasons alone. The Wearethen navy
relies on lunar nagas as navigators and sages, and they do as the stars (and
the chaotic neutral nagas) dictate—playing some long game that is dictated as
much by celestial portents as realpolitik.
On Thirdearth,
lunar nagas don’t just get their name because of their shimmering scales. They are actually from the moon. A trip on a skyship reveals a nation of
albino lizardfolk ruled by a ruling class of lunar nagas, who regularly
communicate with their earthbound brethren. Their plots may not bode well for the nations of men…but
they are also Thirdearth’s only defense against even worse things living under
the moon’s surface, including spirit nagas, morlocks, and demodand-worshipping troglodytes.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 3
197
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