“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by means of settlers hither multitudinous a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless tun beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench first continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a fair portion of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.