“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by means of settlers around many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated hogshead beside us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar prior to continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.