“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden keg beside us, and I returned his gesticulate 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 adequate piece of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bow slung across my back.
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