“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 by way of settlers hither many a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead upset us, and I returned his token 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 houseman, I’d be delighted to wager a fair speck of enrich oneself 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 with it to the bow slung across my back.