Varangian

Avatar: Fire Meets Snow

The Mangkwan clan was born of ash and scorched stone; their lands were seared by constant heat and rivers that steamed as they flowed. Fire was not merely a tool for them, but a doctrine. At their head rose their Leander, Varang: a violent and ruthless sorceress capable of mastering the darkest arts of Pandora. The Mangkwan revered fire as the natural order. To burn was right.

So, when the snow fell, the world broke.

It arrived without warning, white flakes falling upon a blackened land that had not known cold in years. The clan stood stunned to see that the sky itself was betraying them. Varang declared it an omen, an intrusion, an offense that demanded a response.

A search was ordered.

They pushed beyond the known scorched valleys and sulfurous plains, crossing rugged ridges that no Mangkwan had ever dared to traverse. But, beyond the mountain range, they found them.

Another people.

They were Na'vi, but transformed by their land. Their skin was a pale, icy blue, lighter than that of the Mangkwan, and their bodies were wrapped in thick furs of white-tusked beasts from the high peaks. Where the Mangkwan adorned themselves with obsidian and ember-glass, these Na'vi wore silver stone and feathers dusted with ice.

They lived where snow reigned and fire was scarce.

To Varang, it was heresy made flesh. Snow falling uninvited. Fire had met its opposite.