19th of Summer, AV 514
Like a big frog, Pulren burst from the water's surface, his eyes magnified by his swimming goggles as he took a large breath. Looking down on him were a few sailors, scratching their heads and waiting for news. Sliding the leather strap of the eyewear back on his head, he blinked a bit while treading water with his fins. One of them, a younger red haired man about Pulren's age, looked over and tried to peer into the waters below. "So, how bad is it?"
Pulren listened to the lapping waves against the docks and laughed, his arms moving in time with the strokes of his fin fitted legs. "It's not good. What happened to get that much of a mess tangled up down there?" The older man of the trio, perhaps in his late thirties, piped right in. "Well, we had several coils of rope ready to moor the rowboats, but then the pier gave way with the tidal surges. So, if there be a web of hemp down there, we apologize."
Shrugging, Pulren reached down and freed the breath bag from his belt loop, expelling it and refilling it with a new gulp. "It's going to take a while to get it undone. When are they bringing the new timber in?" The older one sent the quiet of the three off. "We'll check on it. Need anything else from us?" Pulren thought about it a moment. "A knife would be good. Sharp one. I'll salvage what I can." The redhead reached into a small scabbard at his side and handed the diver a knife, which he nodded and thanked him for.
Sliding his goggles back on and securing his breath bag, he added, "Any help would be appreciated as well." With that, he dove forward and his fins flapped the surface of the water, the Guardsman returning to the tangled mess of wood and rope below.
Like a big frog, Pulren burst from the water's surface, his eyes magnified by his swimming goggles as he took a large breath. Looking down on him were a few sailors, scratching their heads and waiting for news. Sliding the leather strap of the eyewear back on his head, he blinked a bit while treading water with his fins. One of them, a younger red haired man about Pulren's age, looked over and tried to peer into the waters below. "So, how bad is it?"
Pulren listened to the lapping waves against the docks and laughed, his arms moving in time with the strokes of his fin fitted legs. "It's not good. What happened to get that much of a mess tangled up down there?" The older man of the trio, perhaps in his late thirties, piped right in. "Well, we had several coils of rope ready to moor the rowboats, but then the pier gave way with the tidal surges. So, if there be a web of hemp down there, we apologize."
Shrugging, Pulren reached down and freed the breath bag from his belt loop, expelling it and refilling it with a new gulp. "It's going to take a while to get it undone. When are they bringing the new timber in?" The older one sent the quiet of the three off. "We'll check on it. Need anything else from us?" Pulren thought about it a moment. "A knife would be good. Sharp one. I'll salvage what I can." The redhead reached into a small scabbard at his side and handed the diver a knife, which he nodded and thanked him for.
Sliding his goggles back on and securing his breath bag, he added, "Any help would be appreciated as well." With that, he dove forward and his fins flapped the surface of the water, the Guardsman returning to the tangled mess of wood and rope below.