“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 low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate bit of invent 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 capitulate slung across my back.
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