“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 way of settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden keg upset 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 before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a honourable piece of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bow slung across my back.
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