“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers around many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned 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 bench first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be delighted to wager a fair portion of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the capitulate slung across my back.
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