I’m built for burden, not comfort. You’ll find me stacked, strapped, or stowed away. My walls are plain, but they guard what matters. Open me, and the real story begins. What am I?

I am a tool you use and a thing you do. Use me on wood and get told what to do.

Arr, one eye's dark sea Covers the horizon's storm, Sailor's hidden gaze.

I start as earth beneath your feet, but mold me once, and a new forms you’ll meet.

I look like I could be a gerund for a verb of ability, but I am not. Before the refrigerator, I helped keep your food from rot.