Grimm — stranded and asking for help

I’m holed up near Minoc at 2527,548—no pickaxe, no coin, and barely a scrap of iron to my name. I was digging near the hills when a cave-in scattered my tools and left me with nothing but the tunic on my back. Managed to claw my way out, but the pick’s buried somewhere under loose stone. I’ve got strong arms and a sharp mind—I’m not asking for charity, just a chance to get back on my feet. If someone can bring me a pickaxe, I’ll mine and forge whatever you need: horseshoes, tongs, even weapons if you’ve got the ore. I’ll work off the debt, one hammer strike at a time.

I’m not far from the road, so you won’t have to wander blind. Just look for the cairn of broken rock near the dead oak—I’ve marked it with a strip of cloth. I can smelt and shape metal as well as any smith in Vesper or Moonglow, and I don’t forget debts. Bring me the tool, and I’ll make sure you’re repaid in steel and sweat. No gold in my pockets now, but there’s value in skill, and I’ve got that in spades. I’ll keep watch for bandits too—safety in numbers, and I fight hard when cornered. Just say the word and I’ll stand at your side.