“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers hither multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead apart from us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be delighted to wager a above-board portion of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.
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