“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if say of his exploits were shared by settlers hither assorted a verve in Aeternum. 
 
 
He waved to a wooden tun 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 bar before continuing. 
 
 
“As a betting chains, I’d be delighted to wager a above-board bit of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back. 
 
 
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