“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 low-down of his exploits were shared by means of settlers hither many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg 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 fair portion of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bend slung across my back.