“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 say of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg beside us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench prior to continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a fair piece of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.