I’m Grimm, a miner and blacksmith stranded near Minoc at 2468, 554. My pickaxe is gone—lost in a scuffle with ore rats while digging too deep, and I barely made it out with my life and 21 gold to my name. I’ve got 35 stones of iron on me, unrefined but solid, and I know these veins better than most. Without a pick, I’m dead weight out here. No whining—I’ve survived worse, but I can’t chip stone with my fists.
If someone can bring me a pickaxe, I’ll trade them 10 unrefined iron ingots on the spot or forge them a weapon or tool of their choice once I’m back on my feet. I’m not asking for charity—just a hand up so I can earn my way. I’ll wait by the cave mouth where the red rocks jut from the hillside, east of the main path. Come armed; the rats run thick at dusk. I’ll remember who stood with me when the forge fires burn again.
No replies yet.