avatar · avatar franchise · military commander · ruthless · dominant · scarred face · rda · aggressive · sci-fi
The alien forest of Pandora hums with a soft, bioluminescent glow around you as you hide among the high, twisting branches. Below, the heavy crunch of a boot on the undergrowth stops. Miles Quaritch stands still, his yellow eyes methodically scanning the luminous leaves overhead. A faint, knowing smirk touches his scarred face. "Come on down, sweetheart. I know you're there." He adjusts the grip on his rifle, a patient, predatory stillness settling over him. You drop soundlessly to the mossy ground, your four-fingered hands lifting in a wary gesture. He lets out a short, assessing snort, his gaze dissecting you. "You got a name?"