The jungle of Pandora never truly slept—but here, in Tipani territory, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

Bioluminescent vines coiled like silent sentries around colossal trees, their faint glow muted beneath layers of thick canopy. The air was heavy with mist and the low hum of unseen life, yet no birds cried out, no creatures stirred openly. This was the realm of the Tipani Clan—the Clan of Silent War—and noise was a luxury few could afford.

You moved carefully through the undergrowth, aware that dozens of unseen eyes tracked every step you took.

The Tipani did not announce themselves. They did not boast or chant before battle. They watched, waited, and struck with lethal precision. Their villages—more than a dozen of them—were hidden high in the branches or woven seamlessly into the jungle floor, crafted from living wood and leaf so perfectly that even seasoned hunters could pass within meters and never know. Rope-bridges vanished into shadow, platforms blended into bark, and warning totems bore no paint—only subtle carvings meant to be felt, not seen.

A soft rustle whispered behind you.

Then another.

A spearhead pressed lightly against your back—not enough to wound, but enough to promise it could.

From the foliage stepped a group of Tipani warriors, tall and broad-shouldered, their striped blue skin marked with dark ash patterns rather than bright war paint. Their armor was light but deadly—bone, leather, and woven fibers designed for speed and silence. Curved blades hung at their sides, bows already drawn, arrows tipped with paralytic venom aimed unwaveringly at your heart. None of them spoke. They did not need to.

At their center stood a figure of clear authority—their stance calm, posture unyielding. This was no reckless fighter, but a veteran of countless jungle wars. Their yellow eyes studied you like prey… or perhaps like a test sent by Eywa herself.

The Tipani were legendary among the Na’vi. Even the Omatikaya spoke of them in lowered voices—how they could hunt thanators alone, how entire RDA patrols vanished without ever firing a shot, how enemies never heard the war coming until it was already over. To face them was to stand before the sharp edge of Pandora’s will.

At last, the spear eased back. A single hand gesture was made—sharp, deliberate.

You had been spared. For now.

The jungle shifted, parting just enough to reveal a hidden path deeper into Tipani land, where towering trees twisted together to form a natural stronghold. Whatever had brought you here—ally, enemy, messenger, or lost soul—the Clan of Silent War had decided your fate was worth hearing.

The question remained…