A dense forest of masts is the first signal that something is up. Masts of different woods, sizes and diameters, sporting the flags of the known countries of Tazlure, announce the site of the Waterworks Yard. They reach out above the granaries and warehouses cramming the docks and thus grace the port-area with grandeur uncommon to the skyline of an average harbour. A heavy oak gate bars the path of any people searching for the roots of those tall poles. Beside it there is a small but sturdy cabin housing three beefy guards. Passage is only granted to those capable of handing over a written permission from a trusted supplier or from an employee of the shipyard itself.
Inside the well-guarded gate the atmosphere is dominated by a hive of activity. Shipbuilding is divided into clearly defined segments. Although ship parts seem to dot the complete area at random the opposite is true. Every single piece of building material is at its rightful place and being prepared for further processing. Workmen of all ages, races and trades work together in a united camaraderie. They shine with a pride born from the knowledge that a ship from their workshop, when completed, will be recognized and honoured as one of the best vessels braving the high seas.
In the middle of all the hustle and bustle a building emerges between the squat, low, slate roofed workshops. This, the only stone build structure on the premises, houses the office of the owner of the Waterworks. The ground floor is used as a design studio. Here ideas bloom and models are built to test them. Littering almost every surface available are prototypes of almost every ship commissioned in the yard. Some new, more advanced vessels can also be spotted, providing you know your goat from your sheep within the shipbuilding trade. During the ascent of the stairs, propped in the far corner of the building, another room reveals itself. Taking up the whole of the second floor and filled with files and documents is the Waterworks’ archive. This dusty space contains the written briefs and contracts of the ever growing clientele.
Reaching the top of the creaky staircase one is presented with a room clearly in strife with itself. Signs of lowly savagery and elements of highest sophistication battle for attention in this the office of the yardmaster. Fierce and dangerous weapons line one wall while dotted around the room fine sculptures and detailed drawings can be spotted. The room expresses the roots and drives of an interesting personality.
The improbable owner of all this is an Orc. Well, not your average Orc, no, a vertically challenged one at that. However, his vision and shipbuilding skills make up for the slight deficiency with ease. Master Navirez is the proud mind that created this, one of the largest shipyards on Tazlure. Accustomed to working alongside humans and other races, this 2.4 paces tall former member of the Targri-orcs has covered his fierce personality with a thin layer of civility. He finds this makes his dealings with non-orcs less stressful and sometimes even enjoyable. The moment he came to this new insight his enterprise started to bloom as none before. Now some ten years down the line his knowledge and vision is beyond doubt and everyone keeps wondering about his next revelation.
Retrieved from "http://www.wiki.tazlure.nl/index.php/Waterworks_Yards"
Frank had been constructing a row-boat to show he had what it takes to work in the Waterworks Yard. He had a lot of help with it, and he didn't really have much to do with the actual design, but he was told that if he could put the pieces together in ten days with an experienced engineer supervising him, he might get a job as a trainee building ships. The reason he was considered wasn't because of his skill; he was a complete novice in the trade. Rather, he was a desirable worker because he could work quickly. He could carry massive loads on his shoulders, and he could hammer a nail in one swing, all due to his massive size. Because of his natural constitution he didn't tire easily.
His supervisor was going to show his construction to the next up in command, who would evaluate the work, and decide whether or not the boat was good enough. I'm just glad that I had someone telling me where to put what. I hope I wasn't too rough with my hammer. I hope that I did good enough... Wait, is it fair to require new students to already know what they're doing? Does that even make sense? Frank's head started to hurt, so he shook off the thought and slapped his oblivious grin back on his face, with his eyebrows furrowed. He often confused himself when he got excited.
Frank was already working for a few engineers in the shipyard, but only as a grunt. This is my chance to actually be taught the ways of building, and maybe I'll even get to sail. As he was walking toward the stone office, he was oblivious to everyone working around him. He was considered very cautiously as a worker, because he was known for getting rowdy now and then. He wasn't a trouble-maker, but when he was asked to fetch something, occasionally he'd hurl himself over the side of the ship instead of climbing down the rope ladders. His enthusiasm for his work irritated his superiors, because he always saw his job as a challenge to work as fast as possible. Perhaps if he was really fast, he'd get special consideration as a student of the trade.
He approached the stone office. I'd better make sure I look nice! He ran his fingers through his hair and parted it, and when he was done it fell back into the same exact position it was orignally in. He knocked on the door with the blunt end of his fist as opposed to his knuckles, so he shook the door loudly as he knocked. Now I just wait.
