“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above 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 firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless tun apart from us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding prior to continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.
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