“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 say of his exploits were shared by way of settlers around multifarious a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless hogshead apart from 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 man, I’d be willing to wager a adequate bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.