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  1. “I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers around multitudinous a firing in Aeternum.

    He waved to a wooden hogshead upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.

    “As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bend slung across my back.

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