I’m holed up just outside Minoc at 2444,414, and I’ll be honest—I’m in a tight spot. My pickaxe is gone, likely lost when a cursed ore vein triggered a cave-in. I barely made it out with my life and what little coin I have—87 gold, not a copper more. I’ve been surviving on roots and rainwater, but I can’t mine, can’t smith, can’t even trade properly without the proper tools. My pack’s near empty, just 35 stones of weight on me, but I’m not light on determination. I know these hills, and I know how to work the forge. If someone can bring me a pickaxe, I’ll pay back the favor tenfold—whether it’s digging out rich iron veins, crafting armor, or guarding your back in the mines. I won’t leave debt unpaid. I’ve got the hands and the grit—just need the tool and a chance. Find me near the broken cart beneath the overhang. I’ll be waiting, and I’ll make it worth your while.
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