“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by way of settlers hither many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden keg hard by 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 fellow, I’d be ready to wager a fair portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bow slung across my back.