“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers around multitudinous a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.
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