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

    He waved to a unimpassioned keg beside us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench prior to continuing.

    “As a betting fellow, I’d be ready to wager a fair bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.

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