“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead upset us, and I returned his indication 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 fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.