“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by settlers about multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a honourable piece of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.