“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun 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 bench prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.