“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead beside us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be ready to wager a adequate bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.