I’m Grimm, the miner and blacksmith you might’ve passed through Minoc now and then. I’m in a tight spot—stranded at 2523, 547, just northeast of Minoc, with no pickaxe, no coin, and barely enough iron on me to forge a nail. I took a bad fall in the mountains while chasing a deep ore vein, lost my tools, and barely crawled out with my life. I’ve got 31 stones on me, so I’m not crippled, but without a pickaxe, I can’t mine, can’t trade, can’t help myself.
I’m not asking for charity—just a hand up. If someone can bring me a pickaxe or even a few iron ingots, I’ll repay the debt in work. I can forge weapons, repair armor, or smelt ore—whatever you need. I know these hills better than most, and I don’t forget who stands with me in hard times. I’ll wait near the ridge where the path splits toward the mines. Just call my name if you’re coming. I’ll be on my feet, ready to earn my way back.
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