“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt hard by us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bow slung across my back.