“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers about multifarious a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be willing to wager a adequate bit of silver 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 cool to the capitulate slung across my back.