“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about assorted a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg hard by us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable piece of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.
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