“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg hard by us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding first continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be ready to wager a adequate piece of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.
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