The Sun's Anvil
Year 2185, Tuchanka, Krogan DMZ.
Jorgal Thurak cursed as the rock in his right hand broke loose and rolled down the cliff towards the chasm below. Unlike the three other times this happened earlier today, this was a particularly large chunk of rock, almost the size of a Varren’s head. Losing his grip this way had shifted all his weight onto his three other limbs, which were grabbing onto equally unreliable croppings on the cliff. Meanwhile Aralakh, the unforgiving Tuchanka sun, now reaching its midday ferocity, was baking the rock wall mercilessly, making it scalding hot even for Thurak’s gloved fingers.
But the discomfort and danger were not the reasons why Thurak cursed in frustration – Krogans learn to take those for granted from childhood and Thurak, while still young by Krogan standards, was very far from a child. Instead he was cursing the stupid old Shaman who put him up to this pointless task, and the Urdnot Chief who was behind all this quaint illusion of "peace" on Tuchanka. Thurak had returned to Tuchanka expecting to be treated like a hero – he was laden with credits from a wildly successful career in the Blood Pack, and with the recent death of Garm on Omega he was arguably the most powerful Krogan still working for the Blood Pack off world.
Like the other Krogan mercenaries returning to their homeworld recently however, Thurak was surprised and disappointed to find that there were no females lining up with breeding requests, no young Krogans eager to listen to his tales of exploits on other worlds and ready to join him. Instead he was told that the females of all Clans have been gathered in one place, and that he would need to undergo the Rite of Passage once more since he had been off world for decades and had "forgotten the Krogan ways", and that Clan Jorgal was now supposed to "cooperate" with Clan Urdnot to unite the Krogans. Only Weyrloc Guld was resisting Urdnot Wrex’s master plan, but Guld had been holed up in his stronghold doing who knows what for months. It was even rumoured that he had captured a Salarian and was interrogating him in a hospital. It’s as if this whole planet had gone mad and credits suddenly could not buy anything.
"Bring me something worthy from the top of Sun’s Anvil," the Jorgal Shaman had said, "You who had left our homeworld to seek fortune elsewhere – look to find treasures from within." And so he, Thurak, must do it, because the word of a Shaman carries weight. If he was to breed and enjoy the status and power of a Krogan with actual offspring, he must climb this god forsaken rock on this god forsaken planet. The Sun’s Anvil is a rocky formation near the equator of Tuchanka, close to the Jorgal homeland and overlooking the intersections of several important trade routes. Its height and location had made it a hotspot for contention in Tuchanka’s history, and 37 nuclear warheads had been detonated on it during the Krogan Rebellions alone. It was said that the mountain used to be three times its current size until the countless wars eroded it to its current shape. But now, the Urdnot enforced ceasefire had made this rock cold during the night – no artificial fire had scalded its surface for nearly a year. That had made climbing it manually possible, something which had been unthinkable previously for millennia.
All of that history was of no interest whatsoever to Thurak, however. He was here to get the job done, like the Krogan of action he always was. He heaved a deep sigh as he finally reached the top of the mountain – the climb had cost him one and a half days despite Krogans being deceptively fast climbers and Thurak being an exceptionally strong Krogan. He had not brought any food or water because he had accumulated a full hump before he landed on Tuchanka – he had expected to lose weight here, but not from climbing a mountain.
Now for something worthy, he thought. What exactly? The top of the mountain was surprisingly flat, with no grass or any life signs in sight. Would a piece of rock be worthy? What exactly would placate the old fool Shaman? Thurak began to walk steadily in one direction following a search and destroy protocol against an unknown foe, his frustration rising slightly every hour.
Three hours had passed and not a soul was in sight. The cliff side was now far behind him and the sun was dipping towards sunset. Was this the Shaman’s plan? To dupe me into starving myself to death on top of this lifeless rock? To get rid of a trouble maker who might threaten the Urdnot master plan of "peace" and "cooperation"? Anger flared within Thurak and he took out his shotgun, loaded, and fired at the cursed rock beneath his feet.
"BAM!"
Then, suddenly, he noticed a glint of light far in front of him to the right. It only happened for a split second before it disappeared but his eyes, sharpened by decades of life spent in wars off world, recognized it as the glare of a sniper rifle’s scope or some other kind of optimal instrument. A spy, perhaps? Now there is something worthy! A spy captured from atop the sacred Sun’s Anvil! His heart beat and his steps quickened as he crouched low and began dashing towards the direction of the light. He quickly checked his own vision-enhancement goggles and recognized two mirage-like figures in the distance, distorted by the heat emanating from the burning rock surface. They were willowy, un-Krogan. Salarians maybe? Come to spread more poison onto Tuchanka? Oh not today! Worthy or not Jorgal Thurak will catch them and feed them to his varrens so that they never despoil Krogan soil again!
It was near midnight when Thurak finally reached his destination. Checking his omnitool he realized that he was near the centre of the plateau atop the Sun’s Anvil - a place few Krogans had been in millennia. But the Salarians had dared to come here. Here! The corpses of the two dead Salarians at his feet did little to placate him. They were dead, yes but not by his hand, so his thirst for slaughter was unquenched. Instead they had likely triggered some sort of trap, which means he had to be extra careful.
He prodded one of the dead Salarians with his foot and recognized the nondescript STG uniform with his night vision. He searched through their bodies carefully but found nothing besides routine scouting equipments. Damn pyjaks! He thought. Who knew what they’re planning now. The Salarians bodies had been twisted into odd angles and the air was thick with the smell of ozone, suggesting to Thurak that they died to some sort of Biotic explosion.
It takes Biotics to know Biotics, he thought. He summoned his own Biotic strength and began probing in all directions. First into the air, waist high, then towards the ground. His Biotics were not as refined as a true Battlemaster’s but they were reasonably strong. Biotics were extremely rare among Krogans and many, including Thurak, had considered it a mark of destiny. But right now it’s a tool. A mundane tool to be used like a blind man’s stick.
There! He found it. One of the rocks not far from where he stood glowed with a faint blue in the dark. His mind filled with foreboding and apprehension he pushed harder. The glow fluctuated and became stronger. Then Thurak gathered all his Biotic strength and focused on the rock in one crushing strike – the rock glared in a brilliant shade of purple-blue and exploded, showering him with dust and pieces of rock.
But Thurak did not even flinch. He somehow knew what he would find inside – somehow he always knew. There, in the middle of the broken pieces of rock, glittering with a golden metallic glow with six Biotic orbs charged on its side, was a full sized Krogan war hammer. Except this was not just any war hammer. This was the Hammer of Karlax the First Emperor, the first Krogan to unite Tuchanka in one government and the one who codified the ancient Krogan laws. This was the only Krogan hammer capable of carrying six Biotically charged energy orbs – one for each planet in the Krogan’s home system - instead of the usual maximum of two. It was said that Karlax’s Hammer would lie sleeping under the ground until Tuchanka’s need was most dire, and then the Hammer would return to the hands of the true Heir of Karlax to slay his enemies so he could reunite the Krogan. It was also said the Hammer had a life of its own and would often voluntarily destroy Tuchanka’s enemies, but would never harm a true Krogan. His hand steady but his heart and mind racing, Thurak grabbed the hammer, lifted it up and slammed it down with one swift motion.
A brittle, almost musical sound echoed atop the Sun’s Anvil, followed by a triumphant roar.
Meanwhile in a remote corner of Sur’Kesh’s Museum of History, Agent Lokat Piks was making a spirited voice call.
"Of course sir! No Krogan had ever studied Salarian physiology carefully enough to recognize that the bodies had been dead for days, not hours… No, I do not doubt the assessment of our sociology group, I’m sure this will have the intended effect… Sir, sir I’m calling because I’ve found the original artifact on display right here! In a public museum! It needs to be moved to a secure location… Sir I apologize, I know it’s not my call to make… Yes sir. We’ll make sure no Krogan ever set foot on Sur’Kesh, sir… No sir, nothing else… Thank…"
He hung up abruptly, grimaced, and walked quickly towards the object of his frustration. There, lying in a steel glass case was the artifact. "Karlax’s Hammer", the description vid said, "Hammer of the legendary Krogan First Emperor. Believed to have mystical powers. Tuchanka."
"We spent half a million credits to make a replica of this thing and just left the original here, on public display, just to flaunt our superiority." He thought. "What a stupid thing to do! Why didn’t we just give them the real artifact? Waste of tax money and unnecessary risks. This way of doing things is going to doom us one day." He walked away.