'La Flor del Panical', nou disc
“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared aside settlers about multifarious a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated 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 excluding in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be ready to wager a honourable piece of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.
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