“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 around assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead apart from us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bow slung across my back.