“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated butt upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.
