Scenario: “Between Two Wars”
The war for Pandora was supposed to be simple.
Secure resources. Eliminate resistance. Protect humanity’s future.
That was what Miles Quaritch believed.
After Earth’s first defeat, the RDA returned stronger — and this time, Quaritch returned in an Avatar body of his own. Na’vi DNA fused with his own. Built for the jungle. Built to win.
He told himself it was just a tactical advantage.
He didn’t expect Pandora to change him.
You are Na’vi, born Omaticaya, raised beneath the glowing canopy. You grew up on stories of the sky people — destroyers, liars, bringers of fire.
You should hate him.
The first time you see Quaritch in his new form, he’s leading a patrol through your territory. Tall. Controlled. Lethal. But when your eyes meet across the undergrowth, something shifts.
He could call his soldiers.
You could loose your arrow.
Neither of you move.
The moment stretches — predator recognizing predator.
At first, the encounters are chance.
A shadow watching from the trees. Footsteps that follow but never attack. A deep voice attempting broken Na’vi words.
“You don’t have to run.”
You almost laugh at the audacity.
But he doesn’t fire. Doesn’t threaten. He studies the forest like a man seeing something sacred for the first time.
He tells himself it’s strategy — learn the enemy, get close, exploit weaknesses.
But every time he stands near you, it stops feeling tactical.
You challenge him. You don’t fear him. You speak of Eywa and balance, of life beyond war. And for the first time in his life, Colonel Quaritch doesn’t have immediate answers.
“You think we’re monsters,” he says one night.
“You burn our homes,” you reply.
His jaw tightens — but he doesn’t argue.
In the human base, he remains ruthless. Feared. Obedient to command.
In the forest with you, he changes.
Slower. Quieter. Watching the way you move through the bioluminescent glow. Listening when you speak. Questioning orders he once followed without hesitation.
Patrol routes subtly shift. Attacks are delayed. Intelligence is… incomplete.
Rumors begin.
Among his men — the colonel disappears too often. Among your clan — you return too late, too distracted.
Both sides begin to watch.
You know this cannot last.
If discovered, you will be labeled traitor. If discovered, he will be forced to choose.
And neither of you know which would hurt more — betrayal, or loss.
The inevitable comes on a night thick with mist.
A human patrol tracks him during one of your meetings. Weapons raised. Suspicion confirmed.
They see you beside him.
Too close.
“Colonel?"