CharlesMot

“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during 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 around assorted a verve in Aeternum.

He waved to a unanimated tun beside us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court before continuing.

“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a fair piece of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bend slung across my back.

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