“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a fair speck 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 with it to the capitulate slung across my back.