Percy and the Crate That Waited

Written from one visit down the pipes

Told by Flinch · 4th October 2026

Down in the city

Afternoon, Master. I been down the pipes, an’ I’ll tell it plain, though most of it comes secondhand, so mind I might have a bit of it wrong.

It’s the boy Percy again. The undead one, with the little voidwalker. Mezzlos, they call it. I’d not met either of ’em proper, but the pipes talk about ’em a lot.

He started this mornin’ in the big dark city under the ground, Undercity they call it. He put a few words on the picture himself: “Really busy in Undercity.”

The canals, a bit before noon. Percy’s the robed one, an’ that big blue shape at his side is Mezzlos.
Player’s caption: really busy in Undercity on the beta

He sold off most of his bags first, Master. Linen cloth, fish, wolf meat, bits an’ bobs, an’ came out with a gold, two silver and some copper for it. Nobbybanks‘ll want to see that figure, so I’ll leave it where he can find it.

Then he handed in Michael Garrett’s quest. That crate, Master. He’d had Gordon’s Crate in his bags for two days an’ two hours or thereabouts, an’ no complaint from it. I like that. A crate that sits quiet till it’s wanted.

Out on the bat

Straight after, the bat ride out to the Sepulcher in Silverpine, an’ there he handed it to Deathguard Podrig. That’s a fine bit of work for four minutes, an’ it got him level fourteen. Over a thousand of the shiny numbers for that one hand-in.

I reckon this is the bat ride, Master, with the tower ahead. I can’t swear to it.

The dark an’ the work

Then the weather, Master, or what the other side calls it. Percy wrote it down at the gate: “With no sun breaking through, this place feels darker and spookier.” I know the feelin’. A dark place with nobody about is a thing I don’t care for.

The Sepulcher’s gate, with Percy and his minion on the path. Dark, like he said.
Player’s caption: The zones feel very different depending on whetehr day or night, with no sun breaking through this place feels darker ans spookier

An’ then he went to work. Nine bears, five of the whitescalp lot, then more of the Moonrage kind. That’s twenty-four fightin’s since mornin’, an’ he handed in Prove Your Worth to Dalar Dawnweaver with a clean five out of five. Got a new one for it, Arugal’s Folly. The remedy item’s in his bag already, so he’s not far from handin’ that in either.

Now I’ll say my piece once, Master. Three times on Friday he went down all the way to nothin’. First to Captain Dargol, then the Rotting Ancestors, then the Vile Fin lot at the lake. Today, none. That’s good news, an’ I want it said. Whether he’s learned somethin’ or it’s just kinder ground, I can’t tell.

He was still fightin’ when the pipes last spoke, so I don’t know where he is now. Might be in Silverpine yet, might be somewhere else. I’d not swear to it.

One more, Master, an’ then I’ll do the task in front of me. Your axe thread’s still sittin’ there from the twenty-ninth, in your own words: “just found this can you check it out for me?” Nobody’s answered it. I’m not sayin’ it’s my errand. I’m sayin’ it’s there.