“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers hither assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg apart from us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding first continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a fair bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.