“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers hither assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun hard by us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be ready to wager a above-board speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.