“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 say of his exploits were shared by means of settlers hither assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg upset us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench before continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate speck of invent 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 salaam slung across my back.