"Lovelies the word /I'd/ use, sure." grunts the Assistant with that odd Krogan Grin. He's here because Wrex is a hero to him as well as his people. He's hear, because the Krogan race might live or die, depending on what happens here. He's here because Wrex asked him to be, and as a Warmaster, as a Krogan, he could do no less. He came in full armor himself- good, sturdy, Vitriol Stained Soulsteel Superheavy Combat Armor. Clad in the Leviathan reclaimed armor, he looks about. It has a brass look, and his eyes gleamed green. He continues to chuckle, as his eyes rove over the group.<br/><br/>Besides, if his people died, he could never achieve his longer term goals.... not that his Cult isn't already decent enough, but hey. He grins as he watches on- feeling assured that this "Shephard", this semi-legendary hero, would soon help Wrex lead an assault to free the Krogan females. The Krogan females- who are traditionally the Priestesses and Shamans of his people- will soon return. He feels it in his Ancient bones, and sighs. He remembers the Rebellion, for a moment- then drifts further forward in time. His aged hide looks definably ancient- his coloration is a mix of the dusty tan of the desert, and the Harsh Brass of /that/ city. His eyes lid for a moment, as he contemplates. He thinks of his Exaltation, the power, he felt- he doesn't know why it was then and not before. He doesn't know the date the Jade Prison Broke, or why he exalted some scant time thereafter.<br/><br/>He just knows he ran away from a battle, fled the field, after losing his men. And was offered a chance to /win/. He grins, and drifts back to the present- to catch the Scourge staring at him again.