“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless hogshead upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a adequate portion of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.