“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither multifarious a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated tun apart from us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a honourable speck 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 in to the bow slung across my back.