Postbag 21

Dear Thingygummywhatchamawhatshisface,

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.

Forgetfully,
Wassmyname, Mageywizardythingamawotsit

Magicman4222,

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!
Roavar

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.

You're welcome.
Gypsy Aris

�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.

1. Jumpin is better than minin. I never wanna go minin ever again cos jumpin is so much more funner. Im gonna be a jumpin pure an only get my jumpin stats up. I�m gonna get a jumpin skillcape wiv a jumpin emote an everyun will want me to do their high level jumpin for em.

2. If you jump enough then yer start forgeting stuff that appened that morning cos yer memmerys start to leap outta yer ears.

3. If you jump fast enuff then you look taller.

4. If yer all jump at once den the world is lighter an thats amazin.

Fanks for yer letter.
Jonah who is 7 3/4

Dear Mistmonk,

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:
Rintra (39 days)
Moevyng (38 days)
Bennath (32 days)
Raktuber (34 days)
Pentember (38 days)
Fentuary (31 days)
Septober (38 days)
Ire of Phyrrys (40 days)
Novtumber (39 days)
Wintumber (36 days)

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.

Regards,
Reldo

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

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.
1) Kaqemeex, if you left them in your robes then they would have been washed.
2) This is a white wash, Witch. Blood will make everything pink.
3) There were two socks in the basket when I gave it to you. I suppose we have sock gremlins now?
4) No, you can�t borrow my soap.

Illuminating, I�m sure. Anyway, a man of the cloth must get back to his duties.

Tegid

Dear Archer,

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!

...sorry... erm...

Will you start the fans, please!

Did I just say that?
Brian O'Richard