“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg upset us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be willing to wager a adequate bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.