Grunt stepped out of the shuttle, his gear on a sled as he squinted in the harsh light of Tuchanka's sun, Aralakh. He'd been set down in Urdnot territory, so he made his way to see the shaman as his first stop. Grunt kept an eye out as he moved deeper into the bunker that sat at the heart of Urdnot territory, picking up a few promising pieces of metal as he went along. He eventually made his way to the Shaman, and the elder krogan greeted him enthusiastically.
"Grunt, welcome home brother. We will hear tell of your adventures soon enough, but first, you must be accommodated. Follow me." The two krogan moved into a different part of the bunker until they came to an unmarked door. Grunt entered first, finding it to be a small, spartan room with a bed, an extranet terminal, and enough space to store his various weapons.

"You can store your things here. Others can tell you where to find the armoury and forgeworks, as well as the training fields. Now however, arm yourself as you wish and follow me. I suspect our leader wishes to welcome you himself."

Grunt smiled and pulled out his Claymore and an assault rifle, before following the older krogan to the central hall. Wrex was lounging on his throne, once again looking bored as another krogan whined at him. Grunt smiled wickedly to himself as he remembered the last time he had seen a similar scene. The memory of killing Uvenk at his Rite of Passage still made him smile.

As they approached the dais, Wrex looked over the hump of his brother Wreav, who was complaining about something or another. Again. Honestly, he'd tuned out the sound of Wreav's voice after the first five minutes, and he'd been going for nearly thirty now. Normally Wrex wouldn't have given him two, but as the former Chief Wreav still had a lot of support, so he had to humour his half-brother for now. But something more interesting was coming now, in the shape of Urdnot Grunt. Maybe he could kill two varren with a single shot.

"Grunt, welcome home," he said, nodding to the approaching krogan. Despite being young, the tank-bred was already larger than the average krogan. It was only his advanced age that kept Wrex himself bigger. Wrex was glad that he would be dead long before Grunt became a threat to him, because he knew that fully-grown, Grunt would be nigh-unstoppable. Wreav turned to the newcomer, recognising Wrex's slight for what it was and snarling.

Wrex was going to ruin them all. First, he'd wrested control from him and immediately started 'diplomacy' with other clans, some of whom had been enemies of Urdnot since before the salarians had ever found them. Then he sponsored the inclusion of this motherless, tank-bred product of Okeer's deranged mind into Urdnot. Now he had formed an elite company of krogan, named for their harsh sun, and he dared to not have him lead it! The final insult though was this, the deliberate snubbing to acknowledge this grunt's return, as if it held more weight than the issues he had come to talk with the Chief about. Wreav would not stand here and take it, and he knew that beating this faux-krogan was the easiest way to shore up his flagging support.

"You are not welcome here, and I do not recognise you as krogan, let alone Urdnot," Wreav growled menacingly. "You have no lineage to claim, no family to guide and follow you. It's time you learned that there are some things that should not be!" With that Wreav roared and charged the younger krogan.

For his part, Grunt did not mindlessly accept the challenge Wreav had presented, but used what Wednesday and Gomez had taught him. Even as the older krogan charged at him, Grunt watched and analysed. His mother and her father had taught him that when facing a larger opponent, it was best to know where to strike them effectively. A single shot at a weak point was worth more than a hundred wasted rounds. Wreav was also one of the few krogan who, by dint of age and genetics, was bigger than him, so the blue-eyed krogan stood his ground and looked closely as he was charged. He noted the various little tells in his stature, his gait, even his armour, and knew the best way to attack.

Wreav pulled out his shotgun as he charged at the still krogan, probably frozen with fear. He almost smiled to himself as he readied his arm to attack the younger krogan with a backhand, before his target suddenly wasn't there anymore. Wreav turned his left eye to see the younger krogan looking at him determinedly, before an armoured boot crashed into the back of his left knee, the one that was still healing after his last border skirmish. Falling involuntarily to the floor, he tried to resist as his shotgun was yanked out of his hands and the butt smashed into the weak points of his face. His vision clouded with the bloodrage, Wreav couldn't see but definitely felt as he was summarily disarmed and left helpless on the floor, before the unmistakable feeling of his shotgun's muzzle pressed against the soft part of his throat focused his attention once more. He looked up into blue eyes that held all the warmth of a steel dagger.

"I have a name, it's Urdnot Grunt. I have a mother, her name is Wednesday Shepard. The next time you insult either of them, I'll pull the trigger. Now, get out of my sight before I put you out of my misery, and take your toy with you." Grunt threw down the shotgun he had taken from Wreav, and turned his back on him, delivering the worst insult one krogan could deliver to another: that he though Wreav wasn't worth killing. As his rage fuelled him, Wreav overcame his pain and stood, shotgun once again in his hands as he tried to attack Grunt from behind. The younger krogan turned, batting the muzzle of Wreav's gun away as it fired and pressed the barrel of his own, much larger Claymore shotgun into Wreav's gut, right between the armoured plates. Not that they would have made a difference anyway, at that range.

"You aren't worth the ammo," Grunt said dismissively. "Don't make me reconsider." With that he smashed his head into Wreav's, the younger krogan staggering the elder a few paces. Wreav knew he had lost, but had to turn to Wrex to try and save what little face he could.
"You will just sit here and allow this?" he asked dangerously, trying to imply the political damage allowing Grunt to do this would cause. In truth though, this latest beating would only cement Wrex's position and further undermine his own. Wrex wasn't in the mood for his half-brother's shit, and called the bluff.
"I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, Wreav. You got beaten fair, and you've heard his piece. He doesn't think you're worth killing, a sentiment we share. Go lick your wounds and try and think next time. The old ways are over, it's time to be new krogan." Wreav glared and left, leaving only Wrex, Grunt, the shaman and the impartial guards.

"Well, you've added to your legend now Grunt. Until me, Wreav had never been beaten. Now there's the two of us." He looked critically at Grunt, before coming to a decision. Grunt had just proven he could think, not just fight, and he was pretty sure it was his mother's influence showing there. Aralakh Company needed a leader, and though it would be unorthodox, Grunt might just be able to do it. He looked over to the shaman, who nodded his silent support, before he turned back to the younger krogan.

"Grunt, there's an opportunity I think would be perfect for you. The old ways of the krogan are holding us back, and we need new ideas to bring us forward. Well, that and to beat the shit out of the Reapers, but we'll get to that. One of the things we need to do is work together, to look past the feuds and boundaries that divided us as clans and work together as a single nation. To that end, I and several other clans have put worthy warriors into a single, elite unit: Aralakh Company.

"Until you got here, Wreav was complaining that I hadn't put him in charge, and a lot of people agreed with him. He was the biggest and almost undefeated, but he's stuck in the old ways. They need a leader who embodies the new ideals, and I can't think of anyone who fits that more than you. It'll be tough, I won't lie. These krogan aren't just going to roll over and accept you. You'll need to fight to earn their respect, their loyalty, to make them into your krannt." He looked over at the gleam in Grunt's eyes. "But somehow, I don't think that'll be a problem. You have three days before I throw you to the nathak, Grunt. I suggest you use them to get ready."
"Heh, heh, heh," Grunt laughed slowly, the challenge awaiting him lighting his eyes ablaze.


A/N: I love Grunt, he's such a fun character. And yes, Wednesday is totally his mom now. Doesn't matter about biology, she essentially birthed him and raised him, which is all he really needs.

And just for all of you, more Wreav-bashing, literally.