The batarians were always known as the 'bad boys' of the galaxy. Forced into exile, forced to survive on what they could scrounge up. Deciding to take out brief moments of anger and revenge on settlers and colonists who dare to step foot around their turf.
They saw the Skyllian Verge as their own, but they were the only ones to see it that way. After severing ties with the council, having a massive battle, and being hated by most of the alliance including Commander Shepard the Batarians decided to go into hiding for the most part. After a giant issue with one of the mass effect relays exploding, there wasn't many Batarians left anyhow. So they tried to conserve and reproduce. That's why you don't see many of them kicking around in council space.
Everything from selling red sand to sex slaves, Batarians got a profit where they could. Their people being destroyed also meant their reputation was destroyed, so high end or reputable jobs weren't really available for their types. Four eyes, several nostrils, smooth black lips, teeth that were in jutting rows instead of straight across like a normal human jaw. A long black tongue, looking more like a tendril.
If Commander Shepard had vaporized three-hundred thousand Asari if the response would have been the same. With the rapid destruction of the entire Batarian race, they turned to all they know how to do. Terrorism, sabatoge, and sex. Lots of fucking. A way to celebrate life and death.
Kharsh was one of these final surviving batarians. Named after the Batarian homeworld, Khar'shan. He himself had never been to Kite's Next or Harsa. He wondered if they were as beautiful as he hoped.
When he first met the Commander, there was a gun pressed firmly into the center of his back. Shepard was down in the docks, visiting his shuttle pilot. The man kept crying over his husband. Shepard seemed very close to him. Kharsh wondered if Shepard also had interest in male-presenting individuals. Perhaps it was a human thing.
