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“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg apart from us, and I returned his gesture 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 fellow, I’d be willing to wager a adequate portion of invent 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 in to the bow slung across my back.
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