“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers around multifarious a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden butt upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be ready to wager a honourable bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the capitulate slung across my back.
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