“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers hither assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated hogshead apart from us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court first continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be willing to wager a honourable bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.