“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 word of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned butt apart from us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court first continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be willing to wager a honourable portion of coin 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 cool to the bend slung across my back.