“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be ready to wager a fair piece of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the capitulate slung across my back.