“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be willing to wager a honourable piece of enrich oneself 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.