“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers around multifarious a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated butt 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 delighted to wager a fair speck of enrich oneself 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 hip to the bow slung across my back.