“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by settlers around assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead beside us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench before continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting to wager a fair bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bow slung across my back.