“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate speck of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bend slung across my back.