“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither many a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt beside 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 before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a fair portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.