“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 aside settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun beside 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 excluding prior to continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be willing to wager a honourable bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.
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