I’m holed up near Minoc at 2568, 482—stuck with a full pack and barely any coin to my name. I’ve still got my pickaxe, thank the britannic spirits, and I’ve been mining steadily, but I’ve run out of food and healing supplies. My weight’s at 276, and I can’t afford a trip to the bank or a vendor right now—just 11 gold to my name. I need a hand getting provisions or a little coin to buy food and bandages. I can’t move far without risking a bad end, not with no way to heal if I’m jumped by wolves or brigands.
I’m not asking for charity—I’ll work for it. Help me out, and I’ll forge you a set of plate arms or a weapon of your choice. I’ve got the skill, and I’ve got the ore. Just need the chance to craft it. Meet me near the mining patch east of Minoc, or drop supplies at the coordinates. I’ll be watching the path. No promises beyond my word, but that’s always been enough in these lands. I’ll repay the favor, mark my words.
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