Eric looked up as someone cleared their throat. An Elf. A good-looking one at that.<span style="font-size: 16px">He listened to her request as he pumped the bellows, then stood, stopped and chuckled. "Something small and sturdy, for the small and sturdy woman." He approached Alessi confidently and looked her over.</span><br/><br/>Eric could feel the sweat on his skin and the weight of his muscles. He is an exceptionally broad man, with large, weather-beaten hands and a thick-set, scarred chest. He would not look out of place in armor, with a shield and sword at his side. Upon his belt he bore two great horns. One for drinking and the other a trophy. He'd been here for three hours already and the day was long from over. She was a welcome sight amidst all the fat merchants and stumpy, boyish women.<br/><br/>"There's plenty of good steel in the rack there. Made it myself." He pointed to a nearby display. Eric then took a water skin from his belt and drank, eying her still. The horn was for ale only. "That's a pretty bow. You a hunter?" He enquired in a friendly fashion, settling against a beam to rest while he conducted the sale. On his left arm he wore an arm ring. It was notched several times over and gilded with gold. The arm ring recognised his victories and titles. Upon his chest he wore a talisman belonging to one of his Northern Gods, if she knew her lore, it represented Brokr the Smith. He is clearly a man of integrity, maybe even fame. What is he doing so far-flung from his homeland?<br/><br/>The table he suggested is home to all kinds of blades. There is a long line of daggers of different shapes and sizes, each of them enamelled with different gems and charms. The plainer few sat at the end of the display, but they would perform just as well. Some were also jagged and others straight. Who knew shopping for a dagger would present so much choice?<br/><br/>He saw her eying them up. "The pretty ones are a silver and fifty coppers, but you can get a good steel blade for fifty coppers. Thirty for a kiss." He smiled and winked. He had never kissed an Elf before, but he'd heard the tales. That the women were as soft as silk and had a penchant for milk-honey baths. They always sounded soft to Eric, but he thought she didn't look soft.<br/><br/>Northern men were always direct. If they saw something they liked, they let you know. He seemed to take an immediate interest in the stout, 'curvy' Elf. He looked at her foreign hair and her foreign ears with interest, exoticizing her as she more than likely did him. In fact, the only thing that he related to about her were the long goat-wool socks she wore. Plenty of women wore those around the city, but he liked how they felt beneath his hands, and so he did not mind those either.