Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2014 10:49:49 GMT -6
[WARNING: This post contains graphic imagery.]
Urdnot Graal had been on the Citadel less than an hour before deciding he hated it. It was too damn clean. Did its occupants think if they cleaned enough, that it would somehow keep the dirt and decay down? No, it was always there, slowly accumulating, withering you down by inches…
So everywhere should be like Tuchanka, dangerous and falling apart? a more rational voice asked.
He hated that voice. It had been with him as long as he could remember, always questioning him, trying to make him doubt himself. He wondered if one of his ancestors had somehow mated with a salarian.
“Look, Mommy, a krogan!” came a voice from behind him.
“Yes it is, now stop pointing, it isn’t polite,” came another voice.
He only had to twist his head slightly to the right to see the source, a human child and adult. Judging by their long hair, he thought they might be females, but he had been told that sometimes their males would let their hair grow long as well.
That baffled him. Why would males want to look like females? As if their race wasn’t weak enough? Supposedly one of them, a warrior named Shepard, had killed a giant living starship along with Wrex, the leader of his clan. How was that possible? Had it been Wrex who made that claim, he would have believed it.
He studied the adult human. She was smiling, but there was fear in her eyes, and she had a hand in front of the child as if to protect her.
Like that would stop me if I wanted to kill both of you, he thought. Not that I do.
The virtue most prized by his people was strength, and one only became strong by fighting strong enemies. If any one of his people saw him attack this inherently weaker human and her child, they would be obligated to kill him to protect their honor.
“Next!” came another voice, this time in front of him. It was spoken by a human, a male—maybe, wearing a blue uniform and standing behind a desk. He (she?) did not have any hair. If judging the gender of a human was based on hair length, then it was probably a male; plus it didn’t have a larger chest like their females did. All right, it’s a male—not that it matters, he thought.
Flanking the desk were a pair of turians, each of them armed with assault rifles and heavy pistols. He wasn’t sure what to think about turians. On one hand, he had heard they were disciplined warriors who put the good of the group before their own, and that in a fight they never ran away if it got tough; they would always slowly back up, still fighting. But then on the other hand they deployed the genophage against his people, sentencing them to a slow death. He supposed if he had to fight one, he would honor it by killing it with his bare hands. Salarians, on the other hand…
“Purpose of your visit?” the human said, interrupting his thoughts.
He had been warned about this, that humans were a very nosy race, always trying to find out what others were up to, even among their own kind. But when they were such a weak race, he supposed that’s what they did instead of simply clubbing their enemies down and demanding to know their plans. Krogan ways were so much simpler.
“Why are you here?” the human asked.
“I’m here because a ship brought me here,” he said. Were all humans this stupid? How had they ever learned to travel among the stars?
“I mean, what are your plans while you are here?” the human said, annoyed. “Are they business or pleasure?”
Why didn’t he ask that in the first place? And this race has a seat on the Council? “Business,” he said.
“What kind of business?” the human asked.
Graal ground his teeth in frustration. What did it matter what he was here to do? On Tuchanka, if an alien landed there, no one bothered asking what their business was; they were figured to be either crazy or stupid.
“One of your kind wants to hire me,” he said.
“To do what?” the human asked.
Graal lunged forward, his jaws opening wide and then snapping shut around the human’s head. The bones of his neck were no match for krogan teeth, hardened and tempered in the harsh Tuchankan environment. The human’s skulled popped easily under the pressure of the krogan’s jaws, and the brain slid easily down his throat. The eyes soon followed.
“SIR!” the human shouted, snapping Graal out of his daydream. “What are you being hired to do?”
“To protect some of your kind from Collectors,” Graal said.
The human made a face, but Graal didn’t care. “Very well, enjoy your stay at the Citadel, obey all local laws,” the human said. “Next!”
Graal passed through, and approached a VI in the form of an asari. “Welcome to the Citadel, I am Avina,” it said. “How may I help you?”
“Tell me where Chora’s Den is,” he said, hoping he could run into a salarian along the way. He really needed to kill somebody, and soon…
Urdnot Graal had been on the Citadel less than an hour before deciding he hated it. It was too damn clean. Did its occupants think if they cleaned enough, that it would somehow keep the dirt and decay down? No, it was always there, slowly accumulating, withering you down by inches…
So everywhere should be like Tuchanka, dangerous and falling apart? a more rational voice asked.
He hated that voice. It had been with him as long as he could remember, always questioning him, trying to make him doubt himself. He wondered if one of his ancestors had somehow mated with a salarian.
“Look, Mommy, a krogan!” came a voice from behind him.
“Yes it is, now stop pointing, it isn’t polite,” came another voice.
He only had to twist his head slightly to the right to see the source, a human child and adult. Judging by their long hair, he thought they might be females, but he had been told that sometimes their males would let their hair grow long as well.
That baffled him. Why would males want to look like females? As if their race wasn’t weak enough? Supposedly one of them, a warrior named Shepard, had killed a giant living starship along with Wrex, the leader of his clan. How was that possible? Had it been Wrex who made that claim, he would have believed it.
He studied the adult human. She was smiling, but there was fear in her eyes, and she had a hand in front of the child as if to protect her.
Like that would stop me if I wanted to kill both of you, he thought. Not that I do.
The virtue most prized by his people was strength, and one only became strong by fighting strong enemies. If any one of his people saw him attack this inherently weaker human and her child, they would be obligated to kill him to protect their honor.
“Next!” came another voice, this time in front of him. It was spoken by a human, a male—maybe, wearing a blue uniform and standing behind a desk. He (she?) did not have any hair. If judging the gender of a human was based on hair length, then it was probably a male; plus it didn’t have a larger chest like their females did. All right, it’s a male—not that it matters, he thought.
Flanking the desk were a pair of turians, each of them armed with assault rifles and heavy pistols. He wasn’t sure what to think about turians. On one hand, he had heard they were disciplined warriors who put the good of the group before their own, and that in a fight they never ran away if it got tough; they would always slowly back up, still fighting. But then on the other hand they deployed the genophage against his people, sentencing them to a slow death. He supposed if he had to fight one, he would honor it by killing it with his bare hands. Salarians, on the other hand…
“Purpose of your visit?” the human said, interrupting his thoughts.
He had been warned about this, that humans were a very nosy race, always trying to find out what others were up to, even among their own kind. But when they were such a weak race, he supposed that’s what they did instead of simply clubbing their enemies down and demanding to know their plans. Krogan ways were so much simpler.
“Why are you here?” the human asked.
“I’m here because a ship brought me here,” he said. Were all humans this stupid? How had they ever learned to travel among the stars?
“I mean, what are your plans while you are here?” the human said, annoyed. “Are they business or pleasure?”
Why didn’t he ask that in the first place? And this race has a seat on the Council? “Business,” he said.
“What kind of business?” the human asked.
Graal ground his teeth in frustration. What did it matter what he was here to do? On Tuchanka, if an alien landed there, no one bothered asking what their business was; they were figured to be either crazy or stupid.
“One of your kind wants to hire me,” he said.
“To do what?” the human asked.
Graal lunged forward, his jaws opening wide and then snapping shut around the human’s head. The bones of his neck were no match for krogan teeth, hardened and tempered in the harsh Tuchankan environment. The human’s skulled popped easily under the pressure of the krogan’s jaws, and the brain slid easily down his throat. The eyes soon followed.
“SIR!” the human shouted, snapping Graal out of his daydream. “What are you being hired to do?”
“To protect some of your kind from Collectors,” Graal said.
The human made a face, but Graal didn’t care. “Very well, enjoy your stay at the Citadel, obey all local laws,” the human said. “Next!”
Graal passed through, and approached a VI in the form of an asari. “Welcome to the Citadel, I am Avina,” it said. “How may I help you?”
“Tell me where Chora’s Den is,” he said, hoping he could run into a salarian along the way. He really needed to kill somebody, and soon…