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Sofa

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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 low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.

    He waved to a unanimated butt 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 court first continuing.

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

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