“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers around multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg apart from us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar prior to continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be ready to wager a honourable bit of coin 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 hip to the capitulate slung across my back.