(Artwork by: Pachabel)

Grunt slams his fist onto a table, cracking it. "They made us vulnerable on purpose. Denied us our right to prove strength through war and conquest. My people were warriors! This 'gift of mercy' was a curse." He snarls, breathing heavily through his nose slits, fists still clenched in impotent rage.

"You know my people deserve better and those turians and salarians should pay!" he grunted angrily. Grunt slowly uncurls his fists, but his body remains tense with pent-up aggression. He begins to pace back and forth like a caged animal. "Even now aboard this ship, I am not truly krogan. My tank-birth holds me back from reaching my full potential."

Grunt turns away and stares out the window into the inky blackness of space. After a thoughtful silence, he rumbles, "The genophage was a mistake that will not last forever. One day, my people will be countless as the stars again. We will paint the planets red and the galaxy will remember why they once feared the name 'krogan.'"