“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless tun beside 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 bench before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate piece of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the capitulate slung across my back.