Finn was led to a shed sectioned off in the rockier parts of the shore, a short trek away from the Tidebreaker. The path took them away from the main dock activity, past stacks of cargo and coiled ropes, until they reached an area that seemed deliberately isolated from the rest of the harbor operations.
The young man pushed open the shed door, and immediately a thick, sulfuric smell hit Finn like a physical wall.
Inside, massive coils of black, tar-hardened ropes practically filled the whole room, stacked against the walls and piled in corners. The air was dense and almost suffocating with the acrid stench of old tar mixed with salt and decay. That smell combined terribly with the stench of sweaty bodies of workers hunched over their stations, hands fully blackened as they scraped away at the hardened coating, trying to reach the soft hemp buried underneath.
Are you serious... Finn thought, internally mollified. This is where I'm gonna be working? It's practically slave labor!
