Mask of Trepidation
Acolytes of Nezarec: Koraxis - I
The Reef's labyrinth of asteroids and debris provided many a hideout for those who wished to be lost… and a potential gathering place for those that partook in less savory acts.
A large Ketch had set up among the debris, on a random asteroid of its captain's choosing and had opened for business. Supposedly, as a "bar."
The music bumped, and the clientele—Eliksni pirates—were as rowdy as they were ruthless.
Koraxis sat at a table with his head resting in his upper hands, his cup held in the lower. Exhausted, he hadn't taken a sip since he'd sat down. And he hadn't noticed that an imposing captain, flanked by two smaller Dregs, had entered the bar. The captain started toward his table.
"Where's the relic?" the captain, now towering over the table, chittered in their shared tongue.
Koraxis visibly tensed and gripped his cup so tightly that the cloth woven around his palms strained.
"I don't have it," he responded.
Before Koraxis could register what happened, the captain snatched him from his seat. Despite being loosely labeled "Captain" by his crew, Koraxis was nowhere near the size of the Eliksni before him. His feet dangled in the air.
"Pathetic. Not worthy of your crew."
"You're right," Koraxis agreed, defeat evident in his tone.
The captain's words were venomous, but not as impactful as the fist that collided with Koraxis's face. The other patrons scattered. A blur of fists and insults erupted, a faint chorus of ethereal laughter swelled beneath the violent chaos.