Postbag 37

Ahoy there, Jiblix!

Well, 'tis mighty good of ye to be inquirin' after me. The fact o' the matter is that I've been sailin' the ol' blue in the Seahound � investigatin' some strange islands I'd never seen before, off to the south-west. One of 'em was full o' these funny, fiery folk. A strange lot, they were.

I've also been composin' some more sea shanties � some of me best yet, I reckon. What'ya think?

Oh, I love to sail the ocean blue,
And watch them waves a-rollin'.
I only hope me boat don't sink,
(The bottom's got a hole in).

Not bad, eh? As for yer question about Christmas, well, some would say that ol' Santa represents Christmas, but I like to think it's yours truly, just like you said. Anyways, I can't say fer sure when I'll be settin' foot on land again, but the offer of a basket o' bones may be enough to bring me back to shore!

Merry Wintumber, shipmate

Shanty Claws

P.S. I tried to smuggle a monkey from Ape Atoll for yer, but I could only get a handful of fur. So, I made you some chocolate-chimp cookies, whenever you fancy popping aboard the Seahound to get 'em.

Dear Lance a pan,

My, my, that is quite a selection! Personally, there's not much that would interest me - my own ice giant, perhaps, to shoo away yetis, or some carbine-thingummy dark bows to make my snow imps look more feisty.

Still, it's not for me to pass judgment. Your letter has been added to Santa's pile, and he is flicking through them as we speak. I'll let you into a secret: Santa's tongue creeps out of the corner of his mouth when he reads, which is rather endearing.

Oh, wait - he is coming to your letter - adding a few crosses as he goes. Please don't think that it's because you've been naughty this year (letters light up if the writer has been good, and yours had a warm glow); it is more likely that the items are outside his comfort zone. For example, if he tried to take a jewel from my crown, he'd find himself in his very own snowglobe.

He's given me a wink, which means he has some alternative ideas. I think, come Christmas Day, you'll be rather happy with what lies in your stocking and beneath your tree.

Merry Christmas, dear friend,

Lumi, Queen of Snow

Deer Evileyes987,

Once I was the most bone-scrunchy, rib-munchy ork for lots of big distances. I had to stop terror-eyesing yoomans when my noggin started to feel like a chinchompa had exploded in it. I looked all over for a way to make my noggin better, but all of the dokters ran away from me. Maybee they don�t like being frettened.

Eventyooally I met someone very famuss, Balfasar Boregard. He sed that he could make all the pane go away, but only if I stopped beating up puny yoomans. I wasn�t sure, but my hed really hurt, so I sed yes. Boregard toled me that the cure for my illness is being lifted into the air on a regyoolar baysis, so now the puny yoomans is using majik to frow me arownd. Don�t fink that I am happy with this sort of treatment, cos I ain�t, but being chucked up and down reely does help my hed.

As soon as I am free of this hedake, I will have my revenje, and those nasty yoomans will pay for wot they have done to me. They will all pay.

To Grimeear,

(Why use Spire Man2 at all? Grimeear good goblin name.)

It true that, for thinking, you must die. Problem is, you say you keep come back anyway, so killing you seem waste of High Priest's time, energy and other things High Priest not want wasting. We not need Big High War God to tell us goblins best; we know we best 'cos Big High War God made us.

I did have vision other night that he coming back real soon - but it jumbled up with stuff about skeletons in ice and weird thing with horns and yellow stripes.

P.S. If we kill skull postie, he no deliver letters no more, then how I get my monthly sub'cription of Goblins' Digest?

Dear Anonymous (can I call you Anony? It's a much more SINISTER NAME OF IMPENDING MYSTERY),

Yes, you may call me Dave, although I prefer INQUISITOR EVIL DAVE OF THE LEAGUE OF CONSPIRACY WARRIORS.

I read your theory with much interest, and although it bears all the hallmarks of an EVIL CONSPIRACY, it falls down on one simple point: there is no such thing as a basilisk.

That's right, this HORRIFIC BEAST OF THE NIGHTMARES THAT FOLLOW EATING LARGE QUANTITIES OF CHEESE, is little more than a myth. Those creatures that you believe you are fighting are actually figments of your DARK IMAGINATION, brought about by having to listen to those Slayer Masters moaning on and on about how this creature is nasty, or that monster is particularly evil. Don't get me wrong, dear conspirator, many beasts are EXTRAORDINARILY WICKED, but basilisks can't be, because they just don't exist.

I suppose you could imagine that you're seeing one if the sun was a certain height in the sky, causing a refraction in the upper atmosphere, reflected off your mirror shield (this is similar to the reason you think cats have four legs rather than the more accurate three).

Further to which, why would some DIRE BEAST SO FOUL MY MUMMY'S STEW CANNOT MASK THE SCENT allow itself to have a silly name like 'basilisk'?

Yours evilly,
INQUISITOR EVIL DAVE OF THE LEAGUE OF CONSPIRACY WARRIORS

Party Pete's Christmas Speech

El Duderinos, it's been too long! We haven't conversed since I got my 'fro, which is really, really...not righteous. What's the opposite of righteous? Lefteous! That's right dudes, it's been really, really lefteous.

But don't fret, dude-barons, 'cos I am back with a bang, which - I like to think - is mixed with some sharp beats. Anywho, I have a gift for you all, wrapped in awesomeness and sprinkled with cool: it's the Party Pete Christmas speech!

Are you sitting funkily? Then I will begin.

Dudes of the world!

What can you say about this year? The surf has been wild, the partying fierce and it's all been a blur of bootylicious moves and drop balloons. Not only that, but there have been quests, skills and kerazy peevy-pee activities to roast your chestnuts.

If I had to pick, though, my favourite update would be RuneScape HD. You can see every curl in my 'fro, dude! That's wild! It's not only my style that's looking prime: when I roll into Al Kharid, I can actually work on my tan. HD brought intense sunlight, dude! Which is weird, 'cos, when I look up, I only see black. That must be my sunglasses - it's the cost of being cool, man.

Talking of black, there's been some pretty dark and heinous quests this year: Spirit of Summer, Summer's End, Defender of Varrock, While Guthix Sleeps, Legacy of Seergaze - they all need to turn their frowns upside down, dudes! What's with the misery? If I'm ever down, I fritter cash on new threads and introduce the world to funk. Those Mahjarrat could do with emptying their coffers, buying a mirrorball catsuit and coming to my place for some bodypopping. Paaaaarty!

Toot toot! The Party Train rolls on, bringing the Christmas speech to peevy-pee activities. Now, let me tell you a secret: Party Pete wasn't into the idea at first. There's just so much killing, dudicles, and I'm not getting with that. Make shapes, not war: that's my motto. So, I passed Bounty Hunter and PvP Worlds by, while I invented a few dance moves. That was till my birthday, when bro' Prison Pete bought me a gift voucher for the Great Orb Project. Have you played it, megadudes? It's insane! I'm there, swiping green balls with a big stick, having a whale of a time! It was so colourful, dudes, that it felt like my eyes were being massaged by marzipan fairies.

Finally, a mention must be made about Summoning, as I've got a pet chameleon on my Christmas list. I know what they say - "a pet chameleon is not just for Christmas" - but I promise I'll look after it, questioning dudes. I'd call him Karma and he'd change colour with the choons and keep the Party Room free of flies. The dude would be stellar.

Anyway, gotta run - I have presents to wrap and the Petes are round mine this year. Last year we were round Prison Pete's, and it lacked atmosphere.

So, recognise, and have a party-riffic Christmas. Come pay me a visit - I'm always pr�t-�-danser (as those French homies like to say).

Word,

Paaaaaarty Pete!