One can rent a boat from Grimerson to pedal around the Harbor for 500 silvers by ASKing him about a boat.
Standing barefoot upon the dock, fisherman is of average height and weight. Plain of face, he has a smattering of freckles that dusts his cheeks and neck. His hair falls in dagger-shorn lengths around his face, while a wide-brimmed hat of woven fronds rests upon his brow. Rolled up to the knee, his pants are dusky brown and his shirt is an off-white hue, it too is rolled at the edges.
A passing fisherman calls down to Grimerson from further up the pier and he waves in response. A small child, looking much like a younger version of the freckled fisherman, runs up to the boat trader and provides him with a tall drink of lemonade. Taking a deep drink, Grimerson thanks the child and sends him off on his way. Cleaning the interior of a nearby boat, Grimerson mumbles something about renters not cleaning up their fishing messes. Grimerson moves out from under the awning and briefly dangles his foot in the water. Grimerson moves to sit beneath the awning. Gulls land on the dock, but Grimerson quickly shoos them away. Several young women wander down the pier, their heads shielded by an umbrella. Grimerson calls out to one of them, who waves with a timid smile, and then turns back to her friends. An eruption of giggling trickles back on the wind as they move away. Squinting into the sky, Grimerson mumbles, "Might be ah bit o' storms near tha' southern end."
>ask fisherman about harbor
Squinting up at the sun, a lanky and freckled fisherman says to you, "This 'ere Harbor 'as ah twin on tha' otha' side o' tha' island, but she be blocked at tha' moment from tha' damage tha' them storms caused. We only jist got ourselves all fixed up after 'em." Gazing back towards the main body of the small seaside town, he says, "It be nah a bad place ta' live. Clean air, nae any fear o' invaders. Me family 'as lived in worse."
>ask fisherman about flimgrimy
Tilting his head to the side, fisherman ponders you for a moment and then asks, "Who?"
Blinking, he suddenly looks as though he's been struck by lightning and grins sheepishly. "Oh, me da!" he exclaims.
"Sorry..." he continues. "Yer accent confused me. Me da be a good man. 'E owns ah shop jist down Seathrak way. 'E brought 'us 'er from 'round tha' Landin' way several years back when thar were Krolvin raids. This place be perfect fer ah fishin' family."
>ask fisherman about name
A lanky and freckled fisherman responds to the query by saying, "Me name be Grimerson. Da’ owns the fishin’ shop."
>ask fisherman about waterway
Pondering for a moment, a lanky and freckled fisherman says to you, "Well... Tha' waterways 'er ringed by mists an' Charl's Teeth, they kinda prevent any'un from goin' deeper inta' tha ocean 'er e'en leavin' these lands fer better, broader waters. I guess, in ah way, it makes us nice an' protected from any kind o' mischief 'er invadin' forces."
>ask Grimerson about boat
Grinning through his freckles, fisherman looks at you and says, "Ye kin rent a boat ta' take out on tha' waters fer 500 silvers. Jist ask me agin if'n ye want ta' do that."
Pausing, he then says, "Mayhap ye should bring ah bit extra in case ye decide ta' git off somewhar." </pre>