“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated 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 bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a fair bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.