Postbag 14

Dearest Cheezerman,

How I dreaded the day you'd say such things to me!

I suppose I knew it was coming... I know I'm not as perky as I once was; I know my fur is a little thin in places. I've seen you looking at those shiny, newly smithed helms and knew your thoughts were wandering.

Do you remember the first redberry pie we baked together? The time you singed my tips when smelting bronze? How delighted we were when we first did the bunny hop emote together?

I would never want you to wear me out of obligation or, even worse, exile me to your bank. I'd only collect dust and grieve with the knowledge that I was taking up one of those precious spaces that you could use for storing herring or coal or stacks of gold.

I will miss you, Cheezerman. No longer will we feel the wind rushing past us as we fly valiantly into battle. For you, it will only be hard, cold rune that keeps you company. For me, some second-hand head who may not wash its hair as frequently as you.

Cheezerman, I won't stand in your way; go forth, be rich, run free. Please spare a thought for me every once in awhile. For my part, I will never forget the good times we've spent together, nor how quick you were with the flea powder when required.

Fare thee well,
Your Devoted Bunny Ears

p.s. You're going to feel really, really silly once you discover that I'm untradeable. I hope you realise that I'm expecting the most stupendous apology you've ever had to come up with in your life; after all, you'll have a lot of time to think it through whilst you're mining all that coal. Now, if I were you, I'd be on my way to the shops to buy the biggest box of carrot-filled chocolates you can find, buster.

Ook eek, 'Humble Magic10801'. Ook? Eek eek eek... Ook? Eek eek! Eek...that's better...I wish you'd keep my Amulet of Manspeak closer at hand, Muruwoi. Now I can get back to dictating my superior simian response. Are you getting all this, human?

Dear lowly human,

Half polite? How dare you insult us by suggesting we are in the least bit 'nice' to you, our so-called, 'evolved' cousins. It upsets me to think our races are even slightly related, you hairless ape. Jail is too good for you.

And although I do not yet know what this 'greegree' you refer to is, be warned that should you ever return to our fair isle, we'll show you some proper monkey 'hospitality'. Just be thankful we only threw arrows at you last time - next time I'll set a troupe of chimpanzee rangers on you!

Curse you all, curse you all to ScapeRune!
Awowogei, King of Ape Atoll.

Dear Moonshine122,

I, the great and illustrious knight, am known as Tim and my skeletal friend over there is known as Crunchy.

Unfortunately, you will not really be able to 'speak' to Crunchy due to his lacking the necessary components of speech...such as a tongue, lips... or indeed lungs. I can relay that he is enthusiastically gesturing at me in order to say "Hello". Oh, bother: his left hand just fell off. Eski, leave it. Leave it! Bad dragon! Stay!

[Postie Pete: At this point, Tim ran off after a small green dragon who had previously been sitting under the table drooling on my mail bag. Crunchy then took up Tim's quill and continued to write.]

'Ello. Dice you say? Well if you can find us out and about on one of our holidays, feel free to ask us for a game of dice.

I hear the returning footfalls of Tim, so I bid you goodbye for now.
Crunchy, Tim and Eski

Carl writes:
Enlightened Kilahmed Ali,

While it is true that we could, in fact, jump over the pits that the wealthy of the world lay before us, we prefer to use our horrific deaths as a sort of protest at the injustice inherent in the current system of government. You see, we graahks believe that any sort of hierarchical system wherein the base of workers supports a superstructure of managers through production of labour is *OW!*

[Postie Pete: Carl was rudely interrupted by Chico poking him in the eye]

Groucho writes:

My eyesight is fine, it's Carl's we should worry about, although Chico seems to be managing that himself.

We would dig pits, but we don't have thumbs. Then again, if we had thumbs we'd probably have shoes; if we had shoes we'd have laces to tie, and I never learnt how to do that so we'd never get around to digging pits.

Those are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others.

Yours politically, absurdly and painfully,
The Graahks brothers

Dear 'human',

Your letter smells of penguin. You thought I wouldn't notice? Your flippermarks are all over it, and it has a faint whiff of herring. I know this because Geoffrey, my poison tester, smelt it. He can smell a parcel of penguins from one hundred acorns away.

Now we have revealed your true colours (black and white, the most rubbish ones! They're not even proper colours!), I shall take this opportunity to gloat a bit. Ooh, you're going to regret writing to me.

1. I will not give away specifications, beaky. All you need to know is that it can hit a mushroom from two hundred acorns away. Try flying away from that one. Oh, you can't fly? Ah, bless.
2. I do, and don't I look fancy! Some smelly old human with a paper crown wanted my picture. He was a little weird, but he filled my cheek-pouches with acorns, so I didn't mind.
3. My painter has made a portrait for my Xmas card this year. I would let you see it, as I know I have more grace and beauty in a single tail-hair than any of you bloated black and white swimming chickens, but I'm only sending it out to my closest squirrel friends.

Merry Xmas, beaky.

This message will self-destruct.

Cheggy

I'm pleased that my lyre raised no kind of ire,
Though I am confused by these 'rocks that roll':
To my musical ear they sound quite droll.
My ballads and songs aspire to inspire;

Are you a critic who detests my words?
I have many fans - and some admirers -
For whom my songs evoke the fair iris,
The flower belov�d of the songbirds.

But I see some appeal in the discord
And bright lights, the drumming and the strumming -
Hopefully even some music awards;
They must be better than Astrid's humming.

In Varrock I hope to be a fixture
And pose like a singer in his pictures.

With finest regards,
Prince Brand

Dearest Blip Alien,

You're absolutely right, I was a great adventurer back in my younger days. I used to swashbuckle my way around the world, slaying dragons, saving fair damsels, and thwarting evil masterminds. I was considered one of the bravest, handsomest men in all of RuneSc...oh, who am I kidding. I'm such a failure, I've never even left Varrock! The cloak I hear you ask? Oh, the shame! An old chap with a blue party hat on and thick glasses left it on a bench in Varrock and I thought it looked pretty so I took it for myself.

Yours tragically,
Romeo

King Muumuu,

Dear, oh dear, oh dear...what did they teach you in school?

That pathetic excuse for a warrior, the one you call Sloane, has chosen to announce himself as the strongest man in RuneScape. Strongest man in the world? Pah, they let anyone with level 99 Strength wear that thing - I have a strength level of 112 and don't need a cape to prove I'm strong like that pathetic excuse for a warrior. Funny, isn�t it, that he decides to remain near the Warriors' Guild, living a nice, comfortable, pampered life, while I spend my time teaching the untrained how to fight and nurturing the talents of many experienced slayers. BOOOWWARRRGH!

Yes, I think he fears me...EVERYONE fears me! When I look in the mirror, I fear me! AAARRRGHH, I scream like a schoolgirl when my huge face appears on the cracked glass in front of me, like a collage of the Abyss with war for hair. Well, if I had any hair, it would look like WAR!

My face has damaged that mirror so many times that I�m due bad luck until I�m three thousand years old! Can you believe that? Man, I will be ugly then...but strong. I will ALWAYS be strong! The strongest, in fact!

Remember, a cape does not maketh the man.

Yours in anger,
Vannaka.

Wise Old Tips
Tzhaar Translations

It has come to the Wise Old Man's attention that lots of you happy RuneScapers are merrily trying to translate the TzHaar language. Given the popularity of his last set of translations, he has graciously agreed to supply a few more. Again, the key is to realise that TzHaar words are more about the emotion or passion behind the word than any kind of direct translation.

Tz = Fire, Burn, Hot, Life
Haar = Sacred, Holy
Hur = Builder, Sculpter, Crafter, Small
Tok = Rock, Hard, Material
Yt = Ice, Freeze, Cold, Dead
Tal = Rod, Staff
Em = Mace, Hammer
Om = Maul, Club

That's it from me for now, but I'll see you all again next month, so keep sending me your letters and paintings!

Don�t forget � when you send us your amazing creations we can�t accept links, so please don�t send them to us!

Next month� stuff!

Postie Pete

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