“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers about many a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned butt 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 prior to continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bow slung across my back.