“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 means of settlers about many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be ready to wager a above-board piece of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the capitulate slung across my back.