The renown weapon-smith Everell makes her home and store in a large single story black timber building with large front facing leaded glass windows. Beyond the iron braced doorway is a soot-covered mess of a stop, various armaments and shields lay haphazardly on rough wooden tables, the walls adorned with beautiful sets of armor that hang from precariously placed hooks. A large forge sits in a recessed stone floor, glowing ominously, as smoke drifts lazily up a flue. The air smells of acrid sulfurs and hot metal, as a haze of steam seems to permeate every part of the large room. A small doorway behind a counter, near the back, leads to what can only be assumed as Everell’s private quarters.
Everell herself is a brawny human woman with tanned skin and her head shaved on both sides, a thight braid leading down to her shoulders. She was once an adventurer but sought a new more peaceful life after she fell in love and began to bear children. Having fought in innumerable battles Everell amassed a trove of steel, iron, and Mythril weaponry. Held in a number of bags of holding she began to reforge the scrap weaponry into wonderous, and sometimes enchanted, tools of war.