“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about many a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun beside 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 bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be assenting to wager a above-board speck of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bow slung across my back.
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