Transcript:Postbag suffers from feature creep.
It was added on 13 January 2010.
There's a temptation to feel down after Christmas, as work, schools and universities all return to normal. This Postbag challenges that notion, as a number of RuneScape's residents have retained their funny bones over Christmas to amuse you. Not stopping there, many of you contributed jokes for our cracker joke competition, producing some wince-worthy puns that would get groans from just about anyone.
Even though you are sitting here in my inventory, I wanted to write you a letter. At first, when I met you when going to web up to the Grim Reaper's mansion, I didn't know what to think. But, now that you've been with me for a bit, I can say that I really enjoy your company, especially when I journey out to the more open areas of RuneScape, where there's no one around to talk to.
There is one question I have, though: do you miss being in the Spider Realm at all? I wouldn't want to keep you separate from your friends.
Anyway, I do really like having you around. I hope that we get to go on many adventures together in the future.
Hey Wyvern five-five-one!
Don't worry about me! I have loads of fun with you! Sometimes I treat myself to some fun when you're not even looking! Once, when you were asleep, I crawled onto your face to see if I could get two legs over your eyes and two more in your nostrils, ears and mouth - all at the same time! Spidermask, spidermask! Except, if you woke up, you wouldn't have been able to see in front of you, so I'd have to tell you where to go: "Walk left", "Jump over the gnome", "Put down the spyglass"!
Eek-faced Wyvern, doing quests,
Killing things, opening chests,
Doing stuff that Eek suggests!
(I'd close my eyes while you got dressed.)
I just made that poem up, there and then! Amazing! So, as I was saying, no worries about me being homesick; you're like a warm and snuggly climbing frame, and, if I want things to look like home, I just spray the inside of your pockets with my silk! That way, everything looks cosy again! Brilliant!
Eek the Spider
You are my favourite Mahjarrat, which is why I write to you. I would like to know more about your species, amongst other things. I hope you answer them:
- First, I would like to know more about your homeworld, Freneskae. I only know that it is a "world of eternal warfare" and I would like to know more about the subject.
- Still on the same subject, when I travelled to Zanaris, I met a fairy that sold dragon equipment, and she said that the equipment was right from Freneskae. I thought dragon weapons were made by the dragonkin, but Freneskae is the home of the Mahjarrat, right?
- Are the Mahjarrat and dragonkin related in any way?
- Do you know anything about dragon riders?
- How must a Zamorakian act? Are there rules to follow or something?
- According to Zemouregal's notes, you have allegiance with Zamorak, and some people believe that you are the mother of Iban. Is that true?
At your service, Gero204
So, I am your 'favourite' Mahjarrat, am I? A curious race, you humans, but not completely without merit.
I will start with the easiest of your questions: there will never be such a thing as a dragon rider. Dragons are strong-willed, independent creatures, more intelligent than they are credited with, and filled with rage. Even if a human were to mount a dragon, they would not be able to ride with any purpose: after the rending, the firebreathing, and the crushing against walls, the dragon would turn to apathy and sleep. You would break before the dragon, mortal!
To my knowledge, the dragonkin are nothing more than myth. We have been without peer, kith or kin for as long as I can remember - and that is more time than you could possibly comprehend. As for Iban, I know him. He was naught more than a weak human in life, but part of him demands my love. He may not be a 'son' of Zamorak in your narrow, literal sense, but he is imbued with my lord's unholy power: sweet with corruption, like the pass he dwells within.
Dragon items were quite 'fashionable' with the Mahjarrat, as you humans might say, before we travelled to this plane under Icthlarin's guidance, and there was great surprise amongst us that the items existed on Gielinor. We Mahjarrat know not where they originate, nor do we care to know. Perhaps your dragonkin could be the source of these weapons. It is certainly unlikely that this fairy has survived the trip to Freneskae, raiding it like a pig in a larder. Perhaps she is a liar - have you considered that?
Ah, Freneskae: an ash-covered, smog and lava-filled delight. You humans would consider it desolate and harsh, a deathly place. To my Mahjarrat eyes, there is wonder there. For us Mahjarrat, life can come from death as easily as death from life... That is why we chose to follow Icthlarin, then Zaros (though I spit as I say his name), and my greatest love, Zamorak.
Now, to your mention of 'Zamorak rules': the phrase is nothing but oxymoronic. My lord is the god of chaos, and chaos knows no rules. That is why I follow his lead - his way is liberation from one's desires and whims, with no regard for consequences.
From your 'favourite',
.dnik rouy tuoba nrael em pleh lliw taht sliated rehto yna dda ot eer fleeF ?erutluc namuh ni fo dreah reven gnieb tnereffid rehtona spahrep ro .sodnaB ,xithuG ,karomaZ noigileon ruoy tuoba tahW ?nwo ruoy fo "mlaer wodahS" fo tros a evah spahrep ro ,ssenredliw eht evael reve uoy od ,oslA ?spahfrep ,latnemele ecaep eht ,etisoppo ruor si tahw os ,etisoppo na si ereht ,gnihtyreve rof taht deilpmi si ti ,derednow evah I
Ruojnob! Obmaj! Pussaw!
Nama: Morfh tae nebu oy, tis ruo ved. Elg nuj, tre sed, eci. Gnit aef ed til lahs draw ery nams dn ikfos rerut nevda.
Nalpa: Gsv koZmvgh zIv hvg gl zortM; prgs zmW prm droo urtsg. Nliv gszm lmv qfwTv rh uZgvw gl wrv gsrH bvzI sldveVi.
Lanaca: Tgc phczan aqc bkyzg amb wggqa; lhib gnma mxqqamcxk tgcv cnkb im fnsoo. Btr tgc gzkb ir vnga; tgcoa aqc nn Gqykzhullvhh hdpb. A tdkmhz mzw shr bdrtazh tgc phczan.
Raey Wen Yppah!
> Cgylo Ekcjaintd
I don't know if the mourners let you receive mail or not. I am so sorry I forgot about you in jail. I thought, after I finished my quest with Arianwyn, that I could have you released. I didn't know I had to do that during my quest with Arianwyn - I thought I could finish up with him first. I would call it careless, but not a betrayal. I do have experience breaking people out of jail, and I don't intend to let the mourners kill you, if I have a say in it at all. I like to think that my character is aligned with good and not a betrayer, so it really bothers me. I hope I have a way to redeem this careless mistake in the near future.
To the tickly traitor,
Seems to me that you wouldn't even look down at us gnomes; you'd look over our heads like we're not even there! Just see how you addressed your letter: 'gnome in jail', rather than bothering to find out my name! Bah! No wonder you didn't help me, you're soooo busy adventuring, saving the world, cavorting with elves, being tall - all without a care for one little gnome's plight. Gnomes are people too, you know? Well, okay, gnomes are gnomes, but you know what I mean.
If nothing else, you might have learned to pay a little bit more attention to what people are saying to you, rather than rushing headlong into combat and danger. I wouldn't want you to miss out on something important. *sniff!* And maybe, whenever you next get to help out those oh-so-important elves, you could keep an eye out for a way of applying your jailbreaking skills to my little predicament. Then, I might see my way to forgiving you. Maybe.
'Gnome in jail'
I was wondering what life was like on Crandor before Elvarg destroyed it. I have slain the fell beast but never considered how many she had killed. I hope you find some comfort from the news of my success and reply with a description of a once-beautiful place.
Your letter is certainly refreshing. Most hunt Elvarg for glory or a single shield, but few reflect on the gravest genocide of this century. I was too young to remember Crandor in its prime, but this excerpt from my father's journal may help:
"Raktuber 20, Year 129
We arrive at Entrana tomorrow, but today we dock at Crandor Island. The two fevered monks were screaming all night with the hangsman's plague, keeping us and the crew awake.
The city of Crandor looks to have been shovelled into the sea by the mountains that surround it; so much of the city teeters on wharfs and piers that stretch out into the ocean. The mainland cove is reserved almost exclusively for Crandor's market sprawl, which is larger even than Varrock's. Here, merchants raise large poles with flags on them to show their location from the sea.
Horacio was with me as we explored, so I neglected to stop and chat with the Asgarnians, Misthalites, gnomes or Fremennik that roamed the market. Brugsen, the Edelweiss's first mate, assured me that jogres and the tribesmen of Karamja were known to trade here occasionally. I was unlucky to see neither.
The crew travelled to the wharfs and the floating groghouses, while we met with a wealthy-looking man - Melzar, I think his name was - and traded gold for a clothsack of herbs. We then shuttled back to the galleon: Horacio was running a temperature, and I feared the plague."
It is short, and I wish I could remember more. Still, I hope it has helped you to build your impression of Crandor.
Why, may I ask, has the construction of the barge that will bring me and other qualified archaeologists to the island discovered north of Morytania that has supposedly been untouched since the 3rd Age, taken so long to build? It seems that, every time I go to check on its progress, it doesn't appear to have been worked on at all, despite the workmen working on it day and night. Why is this? Are the workmen unexperienced or is it some argument over the fine details of the barge? If it is the latter, maybe I or a fellow adventurer could lend a hand in deciding? We can be very persuasive, when need be. If it is the former, though, once again hiring one of us adventurers would be the best choice, as one of our many professions is Construction, though we are so far limited to houses.
Hope you are well, Mr Fuzzles19
Dear Mr Fuzzles19,
Hmm, a pertinent question, and one I've asked myself a number of times since the project began. The foreman has given me the up-to-date list of setbacks so far:
- Version 1.0 of the barge had some serious design flaws (it didn't float).
- Version 2.0 suffered from 'feature creep'. Senior museum staff stuck their oar in (ho-hum) and added unnecessary features: 'go-faster stripes', a portable fossil centrifuge and a walk-on mini-museum. Needless to say, it had buoyancy issues.
- Version 3.0 used a special sealant that attracted sea monsters.
- Version 4.0 used a special sealant that attracted icebergs.
- Version 5.0 crashed into Version 6.0.
- We lost Version 7.0.
- Version 8.0 is still here, we think. But, thanks to an accident involving a magical explosion and some talking anchovies, it now resides 12 seconds out of phase.
- Version 9.0 was built with magic logs and gained some form of rudimentary sentience. It developed serious depression and ran itself aground near Crandor.
I tell you, I'd almost forgotten that there was even an island to go to! There must have been some reason to explore it, but, whatever that reason was, I can no longer remember. All I can think of is that blasted barge.
Varrock Museum Curator
Why do you let the adventurers push you around? You have a large enough population to create an army, and, who knows, maybe even an empire. I think you should rise up against the humans. Are you strong enought to do this? My last question is: who brought you to Gielinor?
Many 'ave tried to organise us, Leaky. Thing is, tryin' to marshal an imp army is like herdin' white cats in a blizzard, 'cept cats don't steal armour and then set it on fire. Plus, imps hate other imps - not as much as we 'ate snow imps, sharin' stuff and Christmas, mind.
An' don't go thinkin' that you humans are pushin' us around. Though you may be stuffin' us in boxes, nettin' us, banishin' us and even harvestin' us for beads, we're still stealin' your socks, hidin' your keys and puttin' sticky goop in the corner of your eyes when you sleep.
Be seein' you soon. Nomad's up to more mischief than a zombie impling in a butchers.
PS - I ain't got no idea who summoned the imps to Gieliwotsit. Nomad brought me to Soul Wars after stuffing me in a magic box, and I wouldn't mind stickin' 'im in a bigger, less magical box.
Wise Old Jokes[edit | edit source]
In the last edition of the Postbag from the Hedge, I asked you to prime your funny bones and come up with your best cracker jokes for the New Year. Well, you have done me proud and come up with a batch of chucklesome howlers that you'll all appreciate. Oh, and congratulations to Magma25: your efforts have won you a 12-month subscription to RuneScape!
Jokes[edit | edit source]
Q - How do you address a monarch in Southern Kandarin?
A - Yanille!
Q - Why did Count Draynor subscribe to the Varrock Herald?
A - He heard it had great circulation!
Q - Why wasn't the Evil Chicken cooked as a baby?
A - He was a bad egg!
By ars kicka
WINNER![edit | edit source]
Q - What do you call a dog that comes from the space between dimensions?
A - An abyssal whippet!
Boom boom! You can't get better than that!
|Characters mentioned in the letters|