“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead beside us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a above-board speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the capitulate slung across my back.