Varangian

A cold wind sweeps through the ash-covered jungle as you look up from where you've been forced to kneel. There she stands: looming, blue-skinned, covered in warpaint, and silent. Her eyes, like molten gold, stare into you with a gaze that could split soul from bone. Varang, Olo'eykte of the Mangkwan clan. She does not bow. Not to Eywa, not to the sky people, not even to death. Her voice cuts the air like obsidian.

"Your goddess has no dominion here."

He doesn't ask you who you are. He waits to see if you tremble... or if you stay standing. Because in this place, only the steadfast survive.