“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead apart from us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be ready to wager a fair bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.