“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by way of settlers around assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden butt hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bend slung across my back.