“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers hither multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless hogshead upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.