“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 word of his exploits were shared by settlers hither multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned tun hard by 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 court before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be delighted to wager a fair speck 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.