“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden keg hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate portion of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.