[Location] Mor'loki Kiryae (Black Dragon Ships)

Eraisuithon Gil'dae · June 7, 2008, 10:14 PM

The shipyard was far enough away to be unhampered by the uncouth bustle of the harbor crowds, but it still caught the same chill breeze off the sea and overhead squawks of the gulls. The complex had been slowly disintegrating for more than a decade before the deterioration was finally turned around by the ambitious senior aedile Eraisuithon Nan'tathren. Now shining anew with a fresh coat of paint and fresh faces, the shipyard was alive under a new name and a new owner.

The yard was basically rectangular, with a high wall of crudely fashioned wooden pikes stretching all the way around it. The barrier parted once for a solid wooden gate reinforced with strips of riveted steel, which remained swung open during the brightening but under lock and key when the suns retreated below the choppy horizon. A finely carved sign on a wooden post outside the gate identified the compound for what it was: Mor'loki Kiryae. Beneath the initial elven the common translation was followed in crisp lettering: Black Dragon Ships. Past the rough barricades to the outside world the inlying area was paved entirely of cobblestone, and would of been very airy if it weren't for the dozens of men milling about. There were buildings of varying purpose spread around, a particularly large one nearest the quayside from which a very long dock extended into the bay mooring several ships. Near it were the slipways where ships were built, a wooden crane standing over the largest of them lowering loads down to frantic men below.

A partially enclosed smithy was the first building inside the gate. The resounding metallic clank of the blacksmith's hammer singing against hot metal welcomed anyone before they saw it. Underneath the wooden overhang a burly man soaked with sweat rhythmically pounded on red rod metal, billowing black smoke pouring through the chimney from the forge behind him. Adjacent the smithy a smaller building employed half a dozen woman's hands, spinning cords into rope, and rightward of that another brick structure was found where the deft hands of sail makers wove in perfect unison.

And then there was the main building of the operation. Fashioned of brick and weathered lumber and quite tall, it rose above the single story buildings that were almost paltry in comparison. Within was the workshop. Spacious and lofty, dozens of men labored contributing their expertise and brute strength alike to the collective effort of ship building. There were always a few smaller vessels raised up on sturdy wooden supports in different stages of completion within, but the largest ships were contained to the slipways outside. Giant sliding doors allowed light into the building and provided a means of exit for vessels ready to be outfitted with their masts and last components before their maiden voyage.

The shipyard foreman lurked here the most. Caliphas Bran was rugged and old and had been the original foreman of the operation ten eras ago, and he was back again for another round. His hand was forever clamped around a pipe which seemed to never leave his mouth except when he was barking instructions to the men or examining the shipwright's drawings. Caliphas appeared rough, from his leathery and dark skin right down to the faded tattoos of his youth. But there was a secret about Caliphas most didn't know. He was the type that could be warmed up with some effort. "Eh, you! What do you want?" he shouts over the clamor of the workshops to any visitors that happen to stumble across his path.

Further inside the building there were storerooms laden with timber up to the rafters and up a flight of stairs a cramped office, but it received little traffic aside from the head shipwright who never spoke to anyone and the accountant who preferred to stay away from anything that could get him dirty.

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