“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 say of his exploits were shared by settlers hither multifarious a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun upset 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 bar first continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be willing to wager a above-board bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.
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