Chora's Den. One of the many clubs on The Citidel, popular for it's drinks, dancers, and shady business dealings. Perhaps the occasional shootout or bar fight.

Grunt loved to frequent the place. He'd drink copious amounts of Krogan Liquor, and get into as many bar fights as he could. He relished in the violence and carnage that it brought. And he knew full well that nobody was stupid enough to try and throw him out.

He was a genetically pure Krogan, a super-soldier. About as tall as a tree and twenty times as strong. He had never lost a fight, not once. And he didn't intend to.

Grunt tossed back another shot of strong Krogan liquor, as he watched an unfamiliar face sit beside him at the bar. New blood. He smiled, his teeth bared to see.

"Heh...heh...heh..." He chuckled; his voice low and intimidating.