“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers about multifarious a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a above-board bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.