“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers around multitudinous a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg beside us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a above-board piece of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.