Robertra Plateforge left her home village the way she does everything: loudly, unexpectedly, and followed by a small explosion no one ever proved was her fault. She arrived in Neverwinter with a wagon full of half-finished inventions, an anvil she swore had opinions, and a plan that could generously be described as 'fluid.' Nobody knows how she acquired her forge’s launch-powered bellows, and she offers three different explanations depending on who’s asking and how flammable they look. Plateforge Hammerhall stands on Forge Street like a challenge to the concept of quiet. The building vibrates at odd hours, its windows flashing with bursts of blue-white fire that ripple across the walls like lightning trapped indoors. Locals claim the shop makes more noise than the entire Tower District reconstruction effort did. Robertra considers that a compliment and aims to beat her own record weekly. Inside, organized chaos reigns. Racks of half-tempered blades shimmer with residual enchantment. Armor plates float lazily in midair as if waiting for instructions. A mechanical hammer of her own design slams down in rhythmic intervals, pausing only when Robertra shouts at it for 'getting the attitude wrong.' Most visitors don’t realize the hammer pauses because it genuinely listens. Robertra’s craft blurs the line between traditional smithing and experimental arcana. She forges metal that hums when danger approaches, gauntlets that spark with suppressed elemental energy, and shields reinforced with volcanic glass from Mount Hotenow’s aftermath. Every piece of gear she makes carries her unmistakable signature: raw strength tempered with audacity. Her favorite projects, however, are the ones she absolutely should not be doing. These include: a set of armor designed to walk on its own ('for long campaigns!'), a sword that argues with its wielder about tactics, and a furnace powered by what she calls 'very responsible unstable energies.' City inspectors stop by regularly. Robertra keeps a stack of pre-filled waiver forms by the door. Despite the explosive reputation, Robertra is fiercely loyal to the Merchants Quarter. She repairs damaged gear for guards at half price, for adventurers at fair price, and for children with broken toys entirely for free—though she sometimes upgrades the toys without warning. The neighborhood has accepted the occasional accidental fireball as part of the ambiance. A friendly rivalry thrives between Robertra and Tharic Ironshaper down the street. Their forges compete in volume, efficiency, and which one causes fewer emergency evacuations. The scoreboard currently favors Tharic in safety but Robertra in creativity by a landslide. Plateforge Hammerhall is unmistakably hers: loud, brilliant, unpredictable, and always on the verge of something magnificent—or combustible. Anyone who enters knows exactly what they’re risking. Anyone who returns knows exactly why it’s worth it.