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|The Postbag from the Hedge is written for fun and the information contained in the letters is not to be considered canon unless otherwise mentioned.|
Welcome to the "Postbag from the Hedge": bringing you insight from some of RuneScape's most talked about monsters and residents.
I'm Postie Pete and I relay the messages you send to to the various characters, monsters and inanimate objects in Gielinor. The replies range from the serious to the funny or down right outrageous. Occasionally they even hint at up-and-coming content.
It should be mentioned, that the nature of the Postbag means that there could be spoilers for past or future content.
-Puts on catspeak amulet- Evil Bob,
|One question, what is your motivation to be evil? I mean, the Evil Chicken is evil because he enjoys the taste of fresh human flesh. Black Knights are evil because they are part of an evil society, Zamorak is evil because he is a god and enjoys the spilling of blood, and goblins are evil because...well, I don't know, but I bet they have some reason.|
|Oh, and another question, how about we become evil allies?? We could pair up and destroy all of RuneScape - you get 99.9% of the cut, and I get Falador. (I have a little thing I would like to settle with my 'good ol pal' Sir Amik.) We could rule, and the world will be ours, mostly yours! What do you say?|
Your message is a bunch of old cobblers.
Fer a start, who's this Evil Chicken? There's only the Cheery Old Chicken over here. Right old pain he is; one minute yer doing yer usual - public disturbances and the like – and the next you hear “Why hello there, Evil Bob”, all hoighty-toighty. Then he's in yer face, offering you toast and jam, asking if yer hot and trying to fan you with his wings. Weirdo Old Chicken more like. Geezer doesn't even like human flesh. He gets all doe-eyed over scones and cucumber sandwiches.
An' don't even get me started on the goblins. Just won't stop agreeing with each other. “Oh you're completely right”, “how marvellous”, “spiffing tie, Basil”: that's all I hear from'em. It's enough to make you swallow a furball and enjoy it.
Your suggestion is more like it, though. Tell you what, you get 99.99% of the cut (that's virtually nothing over here in ScapeRune) and I'll get Falador. A bigger hive of scum and villainy you'll never find. Except for those scorpions. Good fer nothing suck-ups.
Evil Bob, master of ScapeRune.
Dear Wise Old Man,
|In my recent learnings of mathematics, a level of which I'd hope you know, being wise and all, I came to wonder what the width of Runescape, if it were truly round like a sphere, was.|
|First I collected my data. Using a sextant, watch, and chart I found that there are 32 paces to a degree. Then, setting up my formula for finding the arc length of a circle,|
|Keeping up with me?|
|Then, I converted 1 degree into radian measures, or pi/180.|
|The formula was now this:|
|32 paces = pi/180 x r (radius in paces)|
|I divided both sides by pi/180, and got roughly 1833 paces for the radius of Runescape, if it were in fact truly round like a sphere.|
|So, the circumference of Runescape, at 0 degrees, should be roughly 11,500 paces. The surface area would be roughly 42,200,000 paces. I'm sure not even a third of that is being used at the moment.|
|So...my question is this: Where is it all? Surely you must know...|
Dear Adventurer Gogetagss,
Yes, yes, I can see what you're saying but ignoring the inaccuracies (you're 20 paces off)... Of course, these calculations only work because RuneScape is spherical - some planes are spade-shaped; how are you going to figure them out, eh?
Anyway, what exactly was your question? "Where is it all?" Well, clearly it's there, it exists. Your mathematics proves it, if it wasn't we'd all be floating off into the air due to the distinct lack of mass needed for gravity to work. A while ago I had a thought along these lines so I constructed some boots covered in glue and started stockpiling rubber bands, just in case. They're around here somewhere...
Anyway, just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there. The mere fact that you are breathing that clear transparent stuff proves this. I mean, you can't see the back of your own head, but you're fairly sure it's there, aren't you?
In the interests of Science, I did organise for a level two man from Lumbridge to begin testing your theory of the circumference. In the last letter I got he was heading into Morytania. I haven't heard from him in a while; I wonder what happened.
Was there anything else? I'm very busy, you know: things to do, plans to make, schemes to act out.
Attn Necrovarus -
|I alerted GOSHA to look into the sad building conditions at your Ectofuntus temple. The walls are crumbling, and handrails are broken. (Not that they do much good - I see people running and not using the handrails all the time.) Furthermore, the slime pool is not wheelchair accessible, which makes it hard for Postie Pete to get down there. Torch illumination is barely adequate, and you should consider upgrading to lanterns. The slime pool needs filters installed, as splatters of slime frequently escape and hit buildings in the nearby port. In accordance with GOSHA requirements, your customers must wear protective gloves and masks when using the upstairs bone-grinders. And install some handrails on the stairs leading to the second floor, and guard rails around the second floor opening, before some gnome plummets to their doom. I'm a big fan of worshiping the "funky fungus", but could you add the option to fill 5 or 10 buckets at a time? I cannot count how many times I almost slipped into the pool.|
I assume by GOSHA you are reffering to the Gielinor Occupational Safety and Health Association? Yes, I received a rather terse letter from them also, suggesting that if we didn't get our act together in time for their planned inspection next week, they'd close our entire operation down. So thank you very much for 'alerting' them - I hope you're happy that you'll soon have put us out of business.
It's not like we can fix things ourselves, you know, what with being ghosts and therefore unable to lift hammers and saws. We have tried asking passing corporeals to do the work for us, but they don't seem half as keen on ectotokens as payment as they do getting Prayer experience. I guess there are only so many bolt racks and undead chickens a person needs.
Looks like we'll have to put the frighteners on the GOSHA inspectors when they arrive - that'll send them running. You can't close us down - we're here to stay! As for five or ten buckets at a time...after grassing on us...? Well, you've got nerve. Next time Malak turns up to ask for a blood tithe (he really can't take a hint) I'll give him your name.
Yours with eternal irritation,
Dear Undead Necromancer who attacked Varrock a long time ago,
|You're undead so you must still be living. Anyway, how powerful are you compared to Malignius Mortifer and other evil chaps? Tell me your real name, about your life, and about that attack. Also, are you planning another attack?|
|May a warm fire and a bed find you at your journey's end!
Postie Pete has directed your letter to me; even though he is nought but a skull, he has little conception of necromancers' habits. Whether this dark individual still lives is debatable, for necromancers are rumoured to prefer to let their bodies die and extend their powers with dark and evil magic.
What we do know of the necromancer who so recently threatened the borders of our wonderful kingdom is fragmentary and unreliable. My own library has few books with anything to say on the topic, other than that 'he hadde the visage of the dead, and his rage took form in the winds and in the blazyng of fires'. Oh, and I found this earlier portrait of a necromancer from much further back in our fair nation's history with his dire general:
Certainly, we should all be glad that these scions of evil have not returned to complete his detestable tale.
Dear Melzar the Mad,
|Hello! I have a few questions about you and why you say "Feel the wrath of my feet!" and why you cry "By the power of mustard!".|
|First, I would like to ask you about those bad cabbages! Why do you summon them? It's not like they'll do any good because we all know that they're...well, BAD! Second, why did you make your house into a crazy, whacked up, and time consuming maze? Last, why are you named Melzar the Mad when everybody can see that you are, indeed, completely insane!|
|Steelside2 and Midgetmage9|
Giblet of grimy poltroon,
Bans engines injector, I so doddered a cat skulks. Own way bath. Alongside astrology and similar divinatory arts: Kepler's barycentre, doubled and moved to a second barycentre, like the inmates in an asylum, finds those that stalk the world the Tanakh told of (when kings were due to fall).
And in others, like but unlike, be of assistance. Progeny of Alcumus works within that ecliptic land and its other world. Cabbage, not a pet, is man's best friend.
Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
Yours &c., with a bulbous plait of moss giant hair and demonic teeth,
Melzar the Mad
|I hear about the blood tithe, but have you ever considered 'Farming' blood. Raising livestock for their blood would let you drink more, and livestock don't complain as much...and they can't attempt to drive pointy objects through you when they get impatient. Plus, I'm sure that you'd like to try a new flavor.|
Some Random Person
|PS My excursions show that destroying the Ectofunctus will destroy the barrier around Port Phasmatys. Of course, doing that may send their ghosts to the afterlife.|
Dear 'Some Random Person',
I see you were too afraid to use your real name...very wise, methinks!
You make an interesting point, though. Farming livestock would be an economically viable option, and it would certainly stop my 'tithers' from striking due to their 'hazardous' working environments (I can't believe we're still stuck in an age where vampyres are scared of a plebeian with a spike!).
Having said that, do you really think that feeding off of creatures (in a manner whereby they can't defend themselves) is ethically or morally correct? Drakan forbid we should ever mass-produce pre-packaged food like you humans do!
Remind me never to reply to a letter of yours again, meat.
p.s. Thanks for the observation. I'll be sure to file it between 'ludicrous' and 'absurd' in my library of nonsense.
Dear evil HAM leader,
|Why is the colour of your uniform pink? I have often found pink robes err..."falling" out of the pockets of your guards while I am searching for uhh..."lost" keys to treasure chests, or a fairly useless ham logo when a citizen of your underground hideout mysteriosly dies for unknown reasons right in front of me. If your mission is to rid the world of monsters, then why not wear armour? I hear it's much more protective in battle than pink robes.|
|From a foiler of your plans,
You are so sadly misguided. You do not understand the damage you do to our cause when you come into our hideout, pickpocketing and killing our people. And to then have the audacity to call me evil? Bah!
But I forgive you, for all humans are perfect in the eyes of the gods, and given time I just know we can convince you to see things our way.
Our uniform, which seems to fascinate you so, was chosen for a very simple reason. There are a vast number of H.A.M. followers, more than most citizens are aware of, and uniforms don’t come cheap. We were forced to lean on a local merchant to get the uniforms at the correct price, unfortunately due to a slight mix up in the orders we leant on the wrong merchant and ended up with these. Still, it could have been worse, at least they’re not goblin green.
For the cause,
p.s. They're not 'pink', they're fuchsia.
This month all the old people in RuneScape have composed some haiku for you. These short poems are each about something or someone in RuneScape. If you're a bit bored one day, you might like to try it yourself. The rules are simple: three lines, the first and last line have five syllables each, the second line has seven syllables.
Killing green dragons.
Where's my anti-dragon shield?
Oh no, I am dead.
O Sweet Juliet,
How I lament losing you.
Your cousin's nice, though.
Two birds on a perch:
One says, "Smells a bit fishy."
Postie Pete cracks up.
Ali makes a deal
With Ali, who sells it on
To Ali, his wife.
The Wise Old Man lies
In bed, sporting party hat.
Schism jots it down.
Approaches with tray and smile.
Roll, kebab or pie?
|Postbag from the Hedge|