“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared aside settlers around assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg hard by 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 prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting 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 cool to the bow slung across my back.