Chewing upon the stalk end of a long stalk of fine Coronian barley, Shoda looked at the man entering. One arched eyebrow was all he gave as an indication to his reaction of the charcoal-skinned, golden eyed 'human' striding in with simple clothes and a burlap sack. Rarely did he express much, aside from that. He was was known as a stoic individual, but one to be trusted. He never overtly displayed his wares, nor did he ever seek to make them more than what they were. Instead he was honest. Brutally, downright honest and frank, not to a fault, but always to a reason. His reputation for a fair price and good product, passed from now three generation of Shoda's Blacksmithing, far proceeded him even beyond the Althanas Sea.

Picking out the barley from his mouth, Shoda stood and rested a heavy-callused hand on the worktop. The other he rubbed on the great, stained apron that adorned the front of his clothing. He had been working on polishing the handle of a very fine, gem-encrusted damascus dagger - one which now lay on the edge of the bench he always sat on, its sister rags, cleaning equpiment and liquids nearby.

Simply, Shoda looked at the man and nodded. He tilted his chin, his wheat-coloured hair catching the light that streamed in from the long window of the store front. Else, a faint hot red brightness came from a room behind him - indicating the incredibly tidy and organised forge behind him. He took a moment to survey the man, then grunted.

"You've been here before," he said, in a rough, but strong and bold voice, that matched his wide shoulders, greated height and steady build. "I never forget a customer. What can I help you with today?"