“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers around assorted a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden hogshead upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a fair speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.
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