Banelar

Banelar are wicked, naga-like natives of the Prime Material Plane, found on land and in water across warm regions. A long, dark snake body with a brownish tail carries a large humanoid head of deep purple-green with glistening white eyes. Tiny tentacles ring the mouth, too weak for weapons but able to handle keys, rings, wands and food. They breathe air or water and hiss in Common and Orcish. Their name comes from frequent pacts with a tyrant god's priests, though many serve no one.

A banelar casts as a 6th-level priest and 6th-level wizard at once, without ability bonuses (wizard 4/2/2, priest 3/3/2), and may cast one spell each round in addition to its physical attacks. Its spells are verbal only, needing no components, but each takes 3 longer to cast, and it must learn them from dragons, fellow banelar or other users of voice-only magic.

Class limits do not stop it from using any magical item no bigger than a rod, though weapon alignment restrictions do. Its tentacles can wear up to two rings or amulets; periapts do not fit.

Its bite and tail sting are venomous, staining the wound blue. Beyond normal damage, the victim must save vs. poison or take 2d6 more and fall unconscious for 1d4+1 turns. Banelar seem immune to poisons and acids and gain +3 to saves against petrification.

Selfish loners, banelar still ally for gain or against a common enemy with lesser beings like orcs, hobgoblins and humans, or greater ones such as gazer tyrants, evil dragons, liches and vampires. Deeply paranoid, they constantly guard against ambush and shore up their weaknesses, hoarding treasure, especially magic, to use, trade for services or buy protection. They honor only the letter of any deal and happily order servants to break bargains.

Banelar may steal entire herds to feed themselves and safely eat venomous snakes and acid-producing beasts. Each is a hermaphrodite that mates with any other it meets and avoids fighting its kind, but otherwise keeps apart unless frightened or weak. Every winter it bears one live young in a remote sea or mountain cave, hunting beside it and teaching it spells until it can survive alone and leaves to find territory. Raising young so far away lets the parent sneak back to its usual haunts unnoticed.