“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about multitudinous a fire in Aeternum.


He waved to a unanimated keg upset 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 houseman, I’d be delighted to wager a adequate bit of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle 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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