Wrex
That was the first night I spent alone after seeing my old krantt leave my private chambers. While the thought of roughly taking one of the many willing females that were always in attendance would help with the physical demands, it would do nothing for the mental or emotional ones. It was the first time I had openly propositioned the human warrior, even wrapped up with teasing words, and I'm sure my point was accordingly taken. Vakarian was lucky I had centuries of practice at controlling my lust and territorial urges, though it helped knowing that Shepard would have just kicked my ass if I attacked her mate, not jump my quads.
It didn't help I also respected the turian, or that I can even privately admit they make a good pair. It would have been nice to know she was open to alien relations back on the first Normandy. I could have made my interest more clearly known and have had at least a couple fun tumbles with the fiery female. Even if I would have never been able to keep her. Not with the path I needed to take to revive the krogan. My people needed to open themselves from the endless traditions that overly bind us, but even I couldn't expect them to accept their clan leader to be paired with another species at this time in our history. Shepard will long be dust before that could even begin to possibly form in krogan minds.
Giving up sleep some hours before the sunrise, I went about ordering the welcoming grounds prepared for Grunts acceptance. Several barrels of ryncol and batarian ale was pulled from storage, and food prep was started. Children were sent about to gather burnable forage for the bonfires, and drums checked for readiness. A runner was sent to the female camp with an invitation.
My mind kept drifting back to nearly three years ago, remembering the hunt for Saren and facing down our first Reaper. Even further when this tiny human female offered a partnership, then eventually friendship, and most importantly respect. I can easily remember the first time I realized I wanted her. We had just slaughtered our way through a room full of mercs, ones that had preferred close combat tactics over their guns, and she slowly had stood up from her last kill, biotics still ablaze around her. She was covered in red and blue blood, dripping with it, and she turned to me, and smiled. My plates had never shifted so quick before or since.
Sure, Shepard was calm words and always a protector of the innocent, but she was a skillful killer. Worthy of being friend or foe. And after hearing what happened at the Weyrloc camp, Vakarian has finally let himself go into his nature. His killing of Guld was savage, and only increased my respect for the man that should be my enemy. They should balance themselves out, and if the union holds, then the Reapers were in trouble.
Damn it all, I needed to find a mate as worthy.
It was late morning when a scout reported that the Normandy shuttle was sighted inbound. I dismissed all appointments for the day and went to met with it, more eager than I had been in months with the presence of my old comrades. I ignored all the odd and disapproving looks I received from my fellows; they'll learn to respect Shepard and her rag tag crew soon enough. Already news of Weyrloc was spreading, and after today's Rite, no one will question my taste in alien companions again.
"Wrex!" Shepard shouted happily as she bounded out of the shuttle, not even hesitating to fall into my arms this time. I grunted a greeting, trying not to look as pleased as I felt. Vakarian was quick to stand by her side, standing close in a protective gesture. I couldn't help but smirk at him for that, which he openly returned. They both smelled clean this morning, but I wasn't fooled. Noting a turian recently laid was easy.
A pale, dark haired human female walked forward cautiously. Her tight uniform hugged her curves in open invitation, and I nearly laughed. If she hoped she would go unnoticed on an alien planet of krogan wearing that, she could be in for a rude awakening.
"Wrex, Miranda Lawson," Shepard said in introductions, but I was already past the modeled female, having caught a familiar scent in the air. Amusement filled me as I watched the drell step out of the shuttle smoothly, landing lightly on his feet. "And this is…"
"Krios," I rumbled. Shepard paused, keen eyes slowly moving between the two of us. Krios looked up at me calmly, his stance non-threatening.
"You two know each other," she stated simply.
"Sure," I laughed. "We've gone after the same target a few times in the past. He's a fast little pyjak."
"And...neither of you killed the other over...ownership of said targets?" she asked, disbelieving.
"Perhaps over the first a few attempts were made," Krios replied, tilting his head slightly as he regarded his battlemaster; and there was something just satisfying about the thought of the drell answering to someone else. "To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, we made a pack."
Shepard lifted a thin brow in question.
I chuckled. "The winner had to buy the loser drinks, one for every hour they managed to successfully keep the other from their target."
Vakarian smirked in the silly way turians do. "And you both still get paid, because the target is still down. Clever. These are stories I need to hear."
"How very...reasonable of you Wrex," Shepard said, rolling her green eyes. "The galaxy really is a small place." The new pup had joined the group now, hauling a large crate of supplies and moving it with ease. He had the strength of a krogan three times his age. He'll make a strong addition to my clan.
"May as well leave your supplies on the shuttle," I intoned. "There's enough space at the barracks to land and unload."
Shepard nodded, and gave one of her easy smiles. "I assumed that would likely be the case, but these are for you and your clan. A gift, peace offering, whatever you need to say to make the others interested in accepting."
I eyed the crate in new interest. "What did you bring me, Shepard?"
"Cookies," she replied, and now I glared at the crate.
"It's to small for such an offering, woman." She laughed.
"My apologies. I didn't have time to make anymore. I barely slept on my way here as it was making those. But I made a variety of your favorites. Snickerdoodles, ginger snaps, and chocolate chip." I rumbled my pleasure, running a hand along the outside, already imagining what it was going to smell like when I cracked it open. "At any rate, if you can provide coordinates to Miranda, she and Thane will start the necessary treks back and forth to get us set up to start training tomorrow while hauling in the rest of my people."
"I already have five krogan guards that are ready to assist at location," I replied. "As well as three tomkahs for your use. The welcoming grounds are not far from the lands I've granted for your use, but going on foot would take to long."
"You're to good to me, Wrex," she laughed. She was obviously full of energy, ready to take on today's trails. It will be interesting to see what kind of names she'll call me once she discovers what the Rite of Passage involves.
"If you're ready, you can find the shaman at the same place as yesterday," I grunted. I offered my arm to Vakarian, and he grabbed it without hesitation. I turned to Grunt, and gave him a curt nod. He wasn't Urdnot yet. "Battle well."
Laryna
The shaman greeted us eagerly as we joined him again on the second floor. He lead us down towards the garage again, and we all loaded onto a tomkah, and I sat close to Garrus in comfortable silence as I listened to Grunt as he asked general questions of our host, filling in the gaps from his tank learning.
Between the impending Rite, the welcoming party, and the up coming days of group training, I was practically bouncing in my seat with anticipation. It only took us about twenty minutes to get to our destination, and I respectfully allowed the krogan to exit first. This wasn't my show, after all. Today, I'm just a member of Grunt's krantt.
"This is Tuchanka's most recent scar," the shaman was saying to Grunt as I swung out of the tomkah. We were inside an underground bypass. It was short; there was light visible at both ends. "The last surface city to fall in the rebellions. The keystone was at the heart." He lead us up an improvised ramp, the climb steep by manageable. "It has survived wars and the passage of centuries. It endures—like the krogan." We came to the surface, and I watched Grunt do a slow turn, taking in the space with a look of wonderment on his face. "If you wish to join Clan Urdnot, you must contemplate the keystone and its trails." He was leading us up a set of stairs to a raised, square stage. It was surrounded by three sides of open space, broken only by several raised columns of unknown purpose.
"What will happen?" Grunt asked eagerly.
"Who knows?" the shaman quickly replied, and I grinned at the staging. "You must adapt. You must thrive, no matter the situation. Any true krogan will." With a parting smirk, the krogan disappeared through a door against the only true wall in the arena. The keystone was glowing green, and Grunt eyed it while we prepped our weapons and studied the area. There was another set of stairs besides the one we took, making two of the most direct paths up to our space. There were bodies of fallen krogan scattered about in varies stages of decay. Failed Rite goers? I doubted that fallen brothers would be left to rot.
I wasn't picking up any life signs besides our own and the shaman hidden within the ruins at our backs.
"Whenever you're ready, Grunt," I said, securing my helmet.
"We've got your back," Garrus agreed, grinning.
I could tell he was fighting sudden emotion as he regarded us, and I kept my face as passive as possible. He was here to prove himself a man and a true krogan in the eyes of his kind; breaking down and giving him a hug would likely result getting punched. I was swelling with pride though as I watched him approach the keystone. There was no way he was getting out of receiving one later.
Grunt hit the keystone firmly.
A odd vibration seemed to spread out from the base of the keystone, rumbling under our feet and towards the wastes. The shaman's voice filled the air. "First the krogan conquered Tuchanka… and mastered a natural world only we are fit to hold."
We waited a few tense minutes, all our senses on alert.
"I've got movement on my radar," Garrus stated, instantly moving into position towards the right staircase. Grunt was quick to follow, so I hang back to provide support, my biotics flaring to life. The familiar growls and bark like cries announced our foes before they ran rapid into the arena. Varren of all sizes and colors charged down a set of partially destroyed stone stairs on the far side of the cleared area, though the short leap from the bottom step into the hard ground didn't slow them down. I toss a singularity into their path, bunching them up quickly as well as catching a few to slow to avoid it from above. The rest of the pack moved to the far side, and we focused on them; the ones caught in my biotics would not survive.
More came from other parts of the arena. They were untrained, likely wild varren lured in as fodder, and only their sheer numbers caused the fight to drag on for nearly half an hour. Even then, we waited about ten minutes after the last wave before regrouping.
"Was that it?" Garrus asked.
"I doubt it," I replied, nodding towards the keystone, which was green again. "I think that was just round one."
Grunt grinned. His thighs were streaked in varren blood, as were his hands. He had barely bothered with his shotgun during the alteration with the local wildlife. He met my eyes briefly, and I gave a slight nod. Grunt strolled over to the keystone and gave it another whack.
"Then the krogan were lifted to the stars to destroy the fears of a galaxy, an enemy only we could chase to their lair," the shaman spoke as the keystone went red again. Another vibration rumbled under our feet, though this one didn't start with the stone, but somewhere far off to our right. We all watched in that direction, waiting.
"Crawlers!" Grunt shouted, wisely drawing his shotgun. "Come to your death!"
While I was glad they weren't rachni, I still winced. Something about these things made my skin crawl. I used my biotics to keep them at a distance, killing any outright that got to close to my squad. It didn't take long for the ground to be littered with burn marks and random bits of red scales. I could hear my boys trading playful banter as they reveled in the simple slaughter. The hunt caused my blood to sing as I fought with my lover and my spiritual brother. Family. Ties forged in battle were stronger than that of blood. In these kinds of moments, the future didn't matter. All that matter was this battlefield, these people, and the bond we shared.
Taking out the kilxen took longer. We only fought a few at a time before, not the swarms facing us down like now. Still, they were single minded, thus easily predictable. After roughly an hour, no more came to challenge us.
The keystone turned green again.
We took a few minutes to catch our breaths, all the while grinning like fools at each other. I eyed the slight scorch marks on the armor of my team, annoyed on how close a couple had gotten, but not enough not to share in their excitement. The shaman really did have me pegged, calling me out on my love of war.
"Ready?" I asked, checking my thermal clips quickly.
"Hell, yes," Garrus chuckled, rolling his shoulders.
"Hopefully a challenge this time," Grunt snorted, almost playfully, and hit the keystone for a third time.
"Now all krogan bear the genophage, our reward, our curse. It is a fight where the only goal is survival!" The shaman cried over his speaker. Another vibration toned through the ground, but it was fainter than the others, further out. I frowned, a little confused, worried something had gone wrong. My fears quickly changed focused.
"Feel that?" Grunt asked, planting his feet against the sudden unstable surface. "Everything is… shaking. I am ready!"
"Oh no," I moaned.
"Fuck," Garrus was quick to agree. "I doubt it can get at us directly here. The arena is too thick."
"What are you talking about?" Grunt demanded as we quickly made for the thicker of the random support columns available.
"I miss my Mako," I grumbled, supporting myself against the shaking by leaning on the column.
"I don't," Garrus laughed. "There!" His rifle came up, and I followed its line of sight towards a single pale tentacle that had sprouted from the ground. I eyed it warily, concerned at its behavior. Was it… tasting the air? "I think it needs an open invitation."
Sighing, I nodded. I took my particle beam from my back and tossed it to Grunt. "Stay in cover as much as possible. I'll use my biotics to protect us from its acid. Garrus, use your Mantis and your armor piercing mods. Grunt, be careful with my toy, it's the only one I have."
"Thresher maw," Grunt laughed, understanding.
Garrus quickly changed around his weapons, and after a few twinks the dark yellow of his armor piercing mod became active. "Ready."
"I'll extend our invite then," I replied, pulling out my pistol. My stomach clinched as I took aim. Damn, I hate these things. I easily popped a round into the thick base, and a low screech filled the air as the tentacle disappeared into the ground. I nearly dropped my gun as it finally emerged.
"Finally, an enemy worth fighting!" Grunt roared.
These worms are nightmarish. They had four large, slanted eyes that are able to detect heat spots even underground, with two large scythe like claws on either side of its head that was able to slice through earth with ease. Smaller versions of its claws run the length of its body, allowing it to move rapidly through its self made tunnels. Its mouth had several appendages, with a long tongue coated in acid strong enough to melt most forms of metal. They were aggressive as hell and rarely backed down from a possible meal.
And this thresher maw had to be at least twice the size of any I have encountered before.
I'm going to kill Wrex.
The moment it zeroed in on us a large glob of acid was flying our way. Garrus got off the first shot at the same time. I flung up a dome barrier as a small puncture wound appeared on its head. Grunt opened fire with my beam, focusing on the more vulnerable areas around the mouth as Garrus popped the used heat sink and loaded another. He was able to get off two more shots before the maw took to the ground again, and we could follow its movements as it tunneled close to the surface of the surrounding wastes. Dust clouds and debris erupted as it emerged again, more acid flying.
I honestly had no idea how long this went on. The maw refused to give up its hunt, and because of the sheer size of the beast our attacks were only having a fraction of the effects they should have otherwise. It became increasingly filled with holes and rends, a few of its limbs were missing, half of its eyes were damaged, and it still fought on.
When it lowered towards the ground again after half the day had gone, and the ground shook from the effort, it took us a long moment to realized that it had collapsed, not gone under. We watched it, biotics still online, sniper scoped and locked, heavy weapon at the ready, but it didn't get up or sink. It gave a single shutter, and stopped moving completely. Grunt roared his victory as I let out a long breath, my biotics cooling.
"Nicely done," I said, smiling in relief. Garrus gave me a wary smile while securing his rifle to his back, and Grunt was still bouncing on his feet, his blood still clearly on fire. The keystone remained red, so I assumed we were done. Before I could suggest moving back towards its location to hopefully met up with the shaman, a shuttle passed overhead. We all looked up at it. It wasn't ours.
"We have company," Grunt rumbled, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Good. I want more."
Sighing, I exchanged a look with Garrus and we quickly fell in position behind the krogan. The shuttle had landed on the far side of the arena, and it had unloaded while we had made our way over. The familiar sight of Uvenk was pacing along the top of a low stone wall, while numerous krogan was spread out around him.
"You live," Uvenk growled, and looked beyond us to the fallen maw in the wastes. "And you brought down the thresher maw. No one has done that in generations. Urdnot Wrex was the last."
"My krantt gave me strength beyond my genes," Grunt snarled. "Which are damned good."
Uvenk jumped down from his heightened position, landing heavily on his feet, before strolling closer to us. My muscles tensed but I resisted going for my weapon or biotics. The green crested krogan studied Grunt for a long moment. "This will cause discussion. I wonder… you say you are pure? No alien meddling in your construction? Just the warlord Okeer?"
"The best krogan traits are distilled into Grunt," I replied, stepping closer to my krogan protectively. "He's designed to be perfect."
"Being designed is the problem," Uvenk snapped back at me. "But not made by aliens. And he is truly powerful. That is a tolerable loophole."
"A what?" Grunt demanded.
"A reason to accept you," Uvenk replied, pacing back and forth in front of us. "You are a mistake, but your potential could tip the current balance of the clans."
Grunt's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You spit on my father's name! On Shepard's name! But now you stop ranting because I'm strong?"
I don't think Uvenk heard Grunt at all as he continued to pace, lost in thought. "With restrictions," he was muttering. "You could not breed, of course. Or serve on an alien ship. But you'd be clan in name."
Rage coiled in my chest. "You talk like he's a thing. You're after his power. You don't really want him in your clan."
"Of course not," Uvenk grunted, waving his hand in disgust. "I didn't really want to cooperate with clan Urdnot either, but I had to. Clan Gatatog is on the verge—either of greatness or of joining the dust. I get traditionalist support if I fight you, and reformer support if I back you. Your Rite of Passage tipped that balance, too."
I knew Grunt would never go for that, but I knew that I could not be the one to appear to make the decision for him here. "It's your choice, Grunt."
"Sounds like an easy job," Garrus added, amusement in his voice.
"That's the problem," Grunt snorted. "I'm pure krogan. Uvenk, you are the pretender!" That's my baby krogan.
"Your head is valuable whether you're alive or dead!" Uvenk growled.
"Just try to take it!" Grunt challenged, his shotgun out in one fluid motion. The other krogan responded by raising their own weapons. I exchanged a quick look with Grunt before turning on my heel and grabbed Garrus by the arm, spreading my barrier over both of us while Grunt activated his fortification. We ran for cover as they opened fire. Our defenses held until we reached a reliable position to counterattack.
"Bonus round?" Garrus quipped, sending a concussion shot into a krogan that had attempted to chase us down. I followed his attack with a heavy warp as the krogan landed on his backside. He didn't get back up.
"Is that how we want to play it?" I teased, bumping my hip into his briefly. "Okay, ground rules. Each krogan is worth one point. Uvenk is worth five." I grin. "I'm up by one."
"Tied by one!" Grunt shouted, kicking away a corpse.
"Okay, you're both going down," Garrus growled, pulling out his sniper rifle. Our playful banter enraged the opposing krantt, and a hard battle pressed upon us. We were a little tired from our Rite, and the Gatatog warriors were decent fighters, but the silly challenge I imposed had krogan dropping left and right. My own kill count decreased when I found a few of the other side's fighters were also biotics, and I focused in to keep them off my krantt. Uvenk had attempted to stay out of any direct fighting with us, but had no choice when he was only down to a few krogan. He also had biotics, and a fairly strong barrier.
I was assuming a greater challenge from him compared to his fellows, but the bastard actually dropped pretty easy as soon as I got past his defenses.
"Uvenk is meat," Grunt spat at the fallen krogan. "Let's signal at the keystone to get out of here, and leave him to rot."
"And his count ties us," Garrus grumbled. I laughed.
The shaman was waiting for us when we got back to the main part of the arena. He clasped Grunt by the shoulders, beaming at the young krogan. "You have passed the Rite Passage, earning the honor of clan and name." He waved a hand towards the maw corpse. "Many survive, but it has been years since a thresher maw fell! Your names shall live in glory." Grunt dropped to his knees, bowing his head in respect to the shaman. "Grunt, you are Urdnot. You may now own property, join the army, and apply to serve under a battlemaster."
"Shepard is my battlemaster," Grunt stated clearly and proudly, and I had to swallow a lump in my throat. "She has no match."
"Understood," the shaman said, looking up from the new Urdnot member to meet my eyes. I was relieved to see approval. "Congratulations, Urdnot Grunt. Accept this token from Fortack," and he was passed a heavy looking shotgun. "His weapons are the finest we have."
I extended my arm to the shaman, and he clasped it firmly. "Thank you, for everything. It was… an experience I'll not soon forget."
"It was a unique piece of history to witness," the shaman replied, grinning.
As soon as I was released from the shaman's grip, I flung myself at Grunt. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, the metal of our armors protesting loudly, though surprisingly not my baby krogan. He half heartily squeezed my waist with one arm, and I step back, beaming at him. "I'm so proud of you, Grunt."
"You did great, kid," Garrus agreed.
The shaman motioned us to follow him, and we made our way back to the tomkah. I sat gratefully, pulling my helmet off and then the tie from my hair. I run my fingers through it, airing it out with a few shakes. The shaman looked fascinated by it, so I swung it over my shoulder and leaned forward, allowing it to hang like a curtain towards the floor, showing off while suppressing laughter.
"What were you called before you became shaman?" I asked, slowly working out a tangle.
"I gave up my name when I became the shaman," he replied slowly, distracted. "I am a conduit for the rage and bloodlust of my people. It would be wrong to retain my old identity. My life belongs to the clan."
A particularly stubborn knot had me struggling a little bit. "I want to know about Tuchanka's past."
"Tuchanka is a place of great gifts," the shaman said proudly. "It kills the weak, torments the slow, and destroys the stupid. Survival is an honor, and here, krogan thrive! We cover this planet with our civilization, only to burn it to the ground a dozen times over. Each time we grow stronger. When we are wise and powerful enough, we will tame the planet forever."
I looked up from my tangled mess. "I've never heard anyone say that wiping out their own civilization was a good thing."
He actually looked disappointed. "I'd have thought you, of all aliens, would understand, Shepard. The krogan empires and clans of the past were glorious, built in great battles and conquests. But their cores were weak. How else could they have fallen? When krogan civilization achieves its apex, there will be no stopping it. No stopping us."
And I believed that. Completely. "Tell me about krogan rites and ceremonies." The knot finally came loose. I smoothed the strands with its fellows.
"You have seen the Rite of Passage," he supplies, shifting towards the end of his seat. "Krogan suffer the Rite of Life at birth… and the Rite of Honor when they wish to be considered for breeding. The Rite of Firsts is suffered before a krogan faces a new enemy. A clan leader also undergoes many rites in service to the clan."
I sat up now, curious images running through my mind to the possible tasks attached to the rites names. So little is known about krogan culture. I was fascinated. "What rites did you go through to become chief shaman?"
His entire face seem to harden, and he looked away while he considered his words. "Becoming the shaman is excruciating," he finally said. "I passed through rites that made me wish to die. I carry the scars on my soul. I must perform rites each dawn and dusk to keep me bound into our krogan nature. Our spirit is one of violence and death. I must be attuned to that."
"Your job is awful," Grunt muttered.
"Indeed," he said somberly. He turns his intense gaze back to me. "Your fringe, can I touch it?" he blurts out.
I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. I knew it. All tough guys were softies at heart. I sat at the edge of my seat and leaned forward, allowing my hair to hang again. "Sure. It's called hair, though." I felt hesitant fingers shift through my strands. I heard Garrus growl, and tilted my head further to see him. "Problem?"
"You never let me do that when we met," he grumbled, his eyes narrowed as he watched the krogan. I rolled my eyes at him.
"Maybe you should have asked," I replied, and sat up with a smirk at his surprised look. The shaman looked disappointed but nodded his thanks. "Aliens are always curious about human hair. I've kinda gotten use to the request. It's not like it hurts for it to be stroked." That got me confused looks all around, so I found myself explaining about hair as we rode our way back to the camp.
It was no surprise when Wrex was waiting for us when we got back. He had a look crossed between annoyed and pleased on his face. "You just can't help making trouble," Wrex chuckles, pleased winning out. "No one has killed a maw since my turn in the Rite. Next you'll tell me he's a quint and craps dark matter." He gestures towards Grunt as he swings out of the truck. Then he laughs. "Guess that's what it takes to replace me." Then he turned serious as he studied my krogan. Grunt meets his gaze steadily, and doesn't flinch when Wrex extends out his arm. "You are Urdnot Grunt. Welcome." They clasp arms tightly.
"Has everyone else arrived?" Garrus asked, joining our little group.
"As far as I know," Wrex replied. "The guards I assigned has been giving me hourly updates. So many aliens are making them nervous. Don't worry, they'll keep their heads," he quickly adds when I frown. "They were chosen carefully. I wouldn't risk your people or mine."
"Thanks, Wrex," I said sincerely. With my whole ground team planet-side, and with all their considerable skills, it wouldn't take long to wipe out a clan. Which reminds me… "Uvenk attacked us at the Rite of Passage. We had no choice but to take him down."
The news didn't seem to surprise him. "I haven't been speaking with clan Gatatog for long. I don't know if they have a support structure to survive the last of their clan leader. I'll lend assistance if they need it, or take them in like I have with Weyrloc."
I nodded, my arms crossing over my chest. I couldn't help but start to feel like I've been played. In just two days, we took out two of the leaders of two problematic clans opposing Wrex. I believed in Wrex and what he was trying to do; I honestly believed it would help his people, and I desperately wanted to see that. But I don't enjoy being used. I didn't want to confront him on the matter though, if it was indeed just a beneficial coincidence. I had to trust that Wrex knew if he needed help with something, all he had to do was ask.
"So what now?" I asked, my arms remaining crossed but relaxed now.
"Now you need to get back to your base to organize your crew, and gather what you need for tonight. Someone will be along just after nightfall to lead you to the welcoming grounds. Might want to tell your people to suit up, krogan parties are rough."