'La Flor del Panical', nou disc
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“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers hither multitudinous a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless tun hard by 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 bench first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be delighted to wager a honourable piece of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the bend slung across my back.
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