“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 say of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither assorted a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg upset 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 bar before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be delighted to wager a honourable bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.