“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers around multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned butt upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be ready to wager a honourable bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the salaam slung across my back.
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