Atosh

Atosh the Longclaw

Scion of Poisoned Boughs

Where Todun the Deceiver is slow, patient rot, Atosh the Longclaw is the sudden crack of a falling tree. An adult green dragon at the height of his strength, he cuts a lean, predatory figure: a long-necked, long-limbed serpent of emerald and shadow, crest-blades rising in a jagged ridge from brow to tail. His namesake talons are scythe-long and razor-thin, honed not only for rending flesh but for carving his mark into stone, bark, and bone alike.

Atosh was hatched in the gloom of Todun’s ancient dominion and raised beneath her coils of fear and favor. He respects her cunning, fears her age-earned power, and envies every coin and captive oath in her possession. In the rare instances of a family council he is dutiful, even deferential, but behind narrowed eyes he measures every weakness—her grudges, her distractions, the depth of her hoard, the loyalty of her servants. He tests the borders of her realm with quiet provocations, pushing kobold tribes, corrupt woodsmen, and lesser dragons into her periphery to watch how and where she responds.

Ambition burns in him like acid. Where Todun prefers secret bargains and carefully weighted wagers, Atosh dreams of banners—of the Firelands bent beneath one emerald claw. He schemes to bind human barons, orc chiefs, and river-tribes into a web of coerced treaties and poisoned alliances, turning skirmishes into wars whose only true victor is himself. He does not yet dare move openly against his mother, so he treats the Firelands as his proving ground: every vassal won, every village cowed, another argument that he is the stronger heir to the green dominion.

Unlike Todun, whose favorite weapon is patience, Atosh revels in the hunt. He stalks caravans along forest roads, “spares” them in exchange for tribute and information, then sends agents to squeeze those same victims for more. When he does take a humanoid guise, it is often as a charismatic commander or ruthless mercenary captain, gathering mortal followers who never quite realize that the banner they serve is a dragon’s shadow. To adventurers and would-be heroes, Atosh can seem almost honorable: he keeps the letter of his word, celebrates bold opponents, and prefers clean victories over needless cruelty. But every duel, every deal, every apparent moment of draconic “fairness” is just another step in a longer game—one that ends with his claws sunk into the Firelands, and, when the time is right, into his mother’s throne.