“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers around assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless keg upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a honourable speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.
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