“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden butt upset us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be willing to wager a above-board piece of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.
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