“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 way of settlers about many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden hogshead beside us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court prior to continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate piece of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.