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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.
To the Wizard Traiborn if you please, Postie Pete, thanks awfully. He's at the Wizards' Tower.
|How do you do, wot? 'Tis a nice say for questions, and I happen to have some. The whatsishisface upstairs, I do believe the chap's name is Grayzag, appears to be a master of Whoshewatsits, imps I think, and it jolly well seems to me that he doesn't seem very Sarawhatchamacallit. After all, imps are belonging to whatshisevilface, not very good to have around in a holy spot, wot? Also, I do believe that the jolly old demon has been summoned, please tell me I'm jolly well wrong!|
|Thank you very much, wot!|
|Hylean 1989, a thingygummywhatchamawhatsihisface.|
I'm fine, wot wot. Would you like some tea? Oh, it's a letter; no tea then. Whatsisface upstairs? I remember him. Arrived in the middle of the night to become a student, always been very feisty. This was back in the days of Whodoyammacallit, you know, Thingy.
Anyway, we were all eating in the dining room. I was eating a nice baked potato with tuna and sweetcorn, my favourite, if I recall. Made it myself with a tuna I'd bought from an adventurer in Draynor-thingymaplace just earlier that day. Said she'd caught it way up in Catherby. I had a holiday there once. It was lovely and sunny. Smelled of fish, though. So where was I? Oh yes: Imps. Great mashed up on toast, too. Tuna that is, not imps. Why would you want to mash up an imp, that's cruel. You do say the strangest things.
So, why would thingummybobs be evil? I quite like the wee chaps. Very useful for finding things, like whatdoyamacallits and beads. I found a Nigel coloured one just the other day, never seen one of them before. Darning imp wouldn't let it go, had to blast him out the tower-thingummy first. Was supposed to be mending holes in my thingamagigs with his tiny needle and thread. So, yes.
Demon, you say...there's a demon in the Wizard's thingamajig? Where? I went upstair just 5 minutes ago and there wasn't a whatsathingamagiggycalled. There was a very nice chap dressed all in red. I like red. But not beads. Got loads of them. Cupboards full of 'em. Somewhere. Anyway, lit my pipe he did. With his finger. Quite a trick, not sure if I could do that myself. So...who were you again? Why are you in my room? You're trying to steal my caged thingamawhats! Never; away with you.
Dear werewolves of Canifis,
|I must first say that werewolves are the best! I would so be one if I could! But anyway...|
|I have studied much of your town and ways of living, but one thing has always puzzled me. Why do vampyres rule Canifis if there are so many werewolves that could fight against them? In my opinion, werewolves are much better than vampyres and I think you could take the vampyres and rule Canifis as your own. I would even help!|
|Is there some power that the vampyres hold over you? Or do you fear them for some reason? This is one answer that is yet to come to me. Please answer!|
|Your fellow werewolf,|
You don't sound much like a werewolf to me. Why would any werewolf want to rise up against the vampyres? They're great! Ever since I was a pup they've been around, keeping the humans out (except the ones they like to feed on) and us werewolves safe.
On top of that, after they have a drink they leave the meat and bones behind for us. It's a good life for the werewolves in Canifis! Sure, we have to give up a bit of blood in a tithe now and then when times are a bit lean for our blood sucking overlords, but that's much better than being hunted to extinction, isn't it?
My mammy told me once that werewolves used to live all over the place, but those humans don't like us much (not as much as we like them: mmm, delicious human) so they just started killing us. Now we have to live in Canifis, which is a bit damp but otherwise grand.
Hail the vampyres!
Dear Gypsy Aris;
|I recently read that you estimated the almighty Chaos Elemental's age to be equal to the number of yew trees, minus the number of coal rocks, times the number of werewolves, with an accuracy of plus or minus two thousand. Well, I actually took the time to count up those numbers. And before you go off saying I have too much free time, you're the one who's always pacing back and forth in that little tent of yours, asking for some silver to read someone's fortune, while you're really asking for gold.|
|Anyways...according to my game...er...RuneScape manual, there are 211 coal rocks in RuneScape, since the last revision of the manual. And using the map included with the manual, I counted there to be 34 yew trees in RuneScape. And finally, using my uber teleportation skillz, I went to Canifis to take a census of those werewolves. Where I counted 16, and then recounted to 15, and then had to run/escape before I got torn to shreds. Those werewolves don't exactly take kindly to you pointing at them.|
|By now, you've probably fallen asleep but I'll continue anyways. The number of yew trees (34) - the number of coal rocks (211) * the number of werewolves (15) is -2655. Which, give or take 2000, would be -4655 ~ -655.|
|(34 - 211) x 15 = -2655|
|The Chaos Elemental may be able to alter space, but he/she/it can't alter time, as anyone who has fought him/her/it can tell you. So I ask: You can alter time, as I have seen while trying to kill the Oneiromancer or whatever he was, so why are you unable to estimate the Chaos Elemental's age, even with an error margin of 2000? And no, we all know you don't have a mini-garden of yew trees like the witch near Al Kharid does.|
|I eagerly await your response,|
|> Chaos Crater, who is clearly inferior to the Chaos Elemental.|
Hello Chaos Crater,
I knew you'd send me this letter, so I prepared this reply in advance:
Dear Chaos Crater,
First things first, it's rather presumptuous to believe that you have seen every coal rock and every yew tree in this absurdly massive world. You may have counted all of the trees and rocks that you have personally seen, but you've failed to take into account that the world is significantly larger than you've seen.
Further to that, the Chaos Elemental is, by nature, a being of pure chaos. It's not particularly difficult to assume that his age is equally chaotic. When I provided those details they were correct, but now his age has changed and is equal to the following formula:
Number of pies consumed in RuneScape yesterday plus the square root of the area of the Wilderness in acres, divided by the depth of the port at Ardougne in fathoms. Take this number and find the nearest prime. That's how old the Chaos Elemental will be when you receive this letter.
And before you say it, I know you can't possibly figure that one out: you adventurers eat far too many pies.
Hello young childerkin of Karamja!
|You may not remember me, but I helped save you from the gublinch by freezing them with snowballs I made from conveniently located snow drifts.|
|A while after the snow had melted and Shanty Claws had left, I returned to your home in search of some demons of a lesser kind to kill. On my way to their domain, I spotted you jmping for joy, free from the gublinch. I was delighted that you were still safe and free from harm.|
|I must ask you, though...as I came back to your home I saw you were still jumping? Don't you three ever get tired? Or does the sugar from those sweets keep you going?|
|Thanks for answering|
‘Ello Roo Nightmans,
Fanks loads fer savin us mister. Dem gublunches smelt of boiled sweets and wet dogs like nan does.
Anyway seems like yer intrested in our jumpin mister so eres why we jump.
Fanks for yer letter.
Jonah who is 7 3/4
|Over the past 6-8 years of my adventuring (It has become very hard to keep track of the time), I have always wondered a few things.|
|Being, obviously, a pre-middle school dropout, I have not leared some basic things. This can make it quite hard when I have big meetings, and don't know where to go when. For you see, I have never learned much about the calendar on Gielinor. I know a few things though, from books that I have found. Just a few dates, and days, but not much at all.|
|The few months I know of are:|
|I also know that there are at least 32 days in Bennath.|
|What I would like to know from you is:
|Thank you Reldo,|
|From the King of Spam,|
|(p.s., please try to make copies of the great books you must have soon, I would love to read them!)|
|(p.p.s., I know there must be some books in your library that I would find interesting, I mean come on!)|
Ah, a most excellent letter. I shall answer the easiest of your questions first. Presently, we are in the 169th year of the 5th Age. The length of a day, of course, is equal to one cycle of the sun and the moon.
There are ten months in the RuneScape calendar. They are:
An extra day is added to Moevyng every four years to account for an anomaly in the way the calendar has been calculated. Moevyng Day, as it is called, tends to fall in the middle of the month.
Pentumber, Septober and Novtumber are named as such for being, respectively, the fifth, seventh and ninth months of the year.
The most intriguingly-named month is the Ire of Phyrrys. My colleagues over at the Observatory have uncovered the charred remains of a diary that belonged to Phyrrys, apprentice to the astronomer Scorpius.
Early entries in Phyrrys's diary tell of how he was attempting to figure out the RuneScape calendar, based upon the astronomical studies his mentor was conducting. However, a few pages have survived of Scorpius's own diary, heavily hinting at Phyrrys's ineptitude, and how at the culmination of the apprentice's initial calendar research, he'd failed to account for a whole forty days.
This is backed up in Phyrrys's own diary entries, whereby from this date on, his anger (ire) seemed to grow and grow at his inability to work these forty days into the calendar. It is assumed that a later inhabitant of the Observatory found these notes and, quite easily, corrected the mistake by placing them between Septober and Novtumber, naming the month in honour (or more likely in jest) of the 'challenged' Phyrrys.
Dear Itinerent Leprechaun Posse:
|I have conducted an informal poll of several fellow wayfaring adventurers and feel confident enough to express the fervent sentiments of my farming associates.|
|If it were possible to rope you to a stake or tree, I'd be forever ecstatic!|
|Your incessent wanderlust has often left me befuddled. I look up, you're here, when I look back, you're there! And forbid I should be growing sweetcorn: the greens and yellows comingle, leaving me wondering where you've made off to this time.|
|I run from patch to allotment to tree and, though I am physically deft, I wish not to set forth on yet another adventure just to locate or catch up to you when happening upon my next farming chore.|
|Please, limit yourselves!|
|Until next time, I still claim to DunoNuthin.|
|PS: Thank you for holding all my tools.|
DunoNuthin? Is that yer name? What sort’o a name is that? Yer want a good leprechaun name like Nigel.
I’ll call you Nigel, lad.
So, Nigel, yer be wantin’ to know about me brothers in the tool trade. Well settle down, laddy, and I’ll tell yer a bit about leprechauns.
Leprechauns love two things, lad. Gold and nature. We hold yer tools and we help out wi’ your farming because, to be sure, it’s a nice change to see one o’ you elephant-sized folk carin’ about what’s under yer feet. We don’t mind standin’ around with spades stickin’ out of our back pockets in rain or shine but we can’t fight our natural urges no matter how hard we try. When we feel the tingle of a rainbow in the air we have to follow it wi’ all our hearts for at the end of every rainbow there’s a pot of gold to be had.
I’ve never found one yet, but there are stories passed down from the ones whose hair has long turned grey. They say the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow is so large yer can do the backstroke in it, so they do.
So we’ll hold yer tools lad, but don’t deny us the pot of gold that’s in the mind of every one of us, will ye?
Shamus the Leprechaun
|Don't you ever get sick of washing clothes day-in and day-out? Every time I pass by, to go to Taverley Dungeon, you're always right there, kneeled down in that same exact spot washing all of you and your friends' robes. How come they never take a turn? You're always stuck there with no time to have fun or even explore Taverley Dungeon. You know all work and no play makes Tegid a dull boy!|
|Yours sincerely, Guitaristguy.|
Dear long grey smear,
Blast you, boy! Your letter incensed me so much that I washed it.
Darned if I can remember what it said, so I’ll answer the questions I normally get asked.
Illuminating, I’m sure. Anyway, a man of the cloth must get back to his duties.
Dear Brian O'Richard,
|You may hear this a lot, but you look awfully familiar! What with your bald head and stylish clothes. Come to think of it, your name is also familiar.|
|There seems to be some connection between you and someone else but I can't quite put my finger on it.|
|I believe this someone else was the host of a maze and also played the harmonica.|
|I don't suppose you have commited your life to looking like someone else, acting like him and also changing your name to be similar to his, hmm?|
|Don't hesitate to reveal yourself!|
I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey...
I wasn’t always bald, you know. Once upon a time, I had a fully head of luscious, wavy hair, but it was stripped from me like leaves in a forest fire!
It was my friends’ fault... “Eat nutritious high protein and swallow raw eggs,” they said, “Try to build up your shoulders, chest, arms and legs.” It was such an effort, a rigorous plan, but they insisted, “In seven days we will make you a man.”
Turns out, the excessive exercise caused me enormous stress, at which point my precious hair started to fall out. They said it was age, but I don’t buy it. Anyway, I’ve got over it now... honestly... THEY DIDN'T LIKE ME! THEY NEVER LIKED ME!
Will you start the fans, please!
Did I just say that?
|Postbag from the Hedge|