“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated butt hard by us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate portion of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bow slung across my back.