“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned tun apart from us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be ready to wager a above-board bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.