“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 by settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting to wager a above-board bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.