“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 low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting to wager a fair piece of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bow slung across my back.