“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless hogshead apart from 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 bar before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be ready to wager a above-board piece of silver 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 in to the capitulate slung across my back.