Zonorhc

Yeah, the forehead is covered by the hair. Drawing folds has eluded me for a very long time, despite my best efforts. The pants show that, but the coat is intended to be the way it is. I admit it looks uncomfortable since the perspective doesn't really show that the buttons on the coat are along the left side of the body, but beyond that it's a fairly comfortable "at ease" posture. Were his legs bent, he would be en garde. Appreciate the constructive criticism, though. Keep it coming.

There's a flaw here relating to the discussion, though: Saradomin is called the "God of Wisdom" by JAGeX's own sources, not expressly stated as a good god. Similarly, Zamorak is the "God of Chaos". Where wisdom equates solely to goodness and chaos evil, I can't for the life of me see. As it is, JAGeX is too inconsistent with the gods. I don't even see why Saradomin and Zamorak are constantly fighting; it's not in their stated roles.

Seeing as how I haven't actually posted any work here for a while, here's something I finished last night as concept art: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/33554032/ I'm still trying to figure out a good way to use an eraser for smudging.

Well, you have to consider that a lot of the traffic on this board was from people who wanted to make a quick buck selling pixel art. Once selling signatures became officially against the rules, a lot of those users never really came back. At the moment, most of the population on the media board seems to be made up of those people who are actually interested in getting constructive criticism to improve their art.

Or you could, you know, just change the name of tiaras to coronets or circlets and avoid the hassle of making an unnecessary item.

By now whoever invented the phrase "cheaters never win" should be spinning fast enough in their grave to enable us to harness them for electricity. You're doing mankind a service, Col. Decent job on the photoshopping, though I don't see what excuses they have for not being able to pick it up, barring a sudden deficiency of eyes.

You don't even deserve to be flamed by me for the sheer idiocy of your post. On-topic, I don't think it would help much even if it were implemented. The vast majority of people would still elect to go about their business without having to pay much attention if any to the game, and it would only really advantage a few people. Throw in the fact that JAGeX very rarely takes player input into consideration when reviewing changes they feel they had to make.

And you better believe we'll turn into a desert by then too, you dirty heretic!

Stories don't even have to be Runescape-related, and the ones that aren't are usually the better ones. Hey, the last time I wrote something that was Runescape-related was at the beginning of last year...

And no, two-handed swords weren't for berserkers. Greatswords (longswords) were for use by knights on the ground with plenty of room to swing, as they NEED the space to be able to use their weapon's reach. The development of the hand-and-a-half was so that dismounted knights could still use their greatswords, but now only slightly shorter and thus compact enough to half-sword with in case they were attacked inside their guard. The bastard sword, as it was known, lost no power for this, only a half-foot or so of reach. Perfect for cut-and-thrust combat. Heavy enough to snap someone's neck with a hit to the side of the helmet, and light enough to move quickly in feints for thrusts under armour plates. Leave it as a hybrid one/two-handed weapon without extra requirements. Give it longsword stats in one hand, greatsword stats in two. The damage numbers and accuracy here are controled by how many hands are on the hilt or blade, and that takes a huge hit when there's only one, and the other has to move a shield around.

Duct tape. Seriously.

Well, alright. Since you're so intelligent, how about you look at the meaning of suspension of disbelief? You play the game with the assumption that your character is "real" within the fantasy world, and you'd hope to hell that at least a few things made sense. So suddenly there's something wrong with thinking about things from an in-game standpoint? If it makes you THAT uncomfortable that people might be willing to think in-character and yet still be functioning members of society, then nobody asked you to post.

Because I wanted to (SHOCK!) stimulate discussion about something beyond "LAWL UPDATE" or "OMG I GOT SKAMED ROFLBEANS". Is it my fault when I set up a place for intelligent discussion and it's instead overrun by monkeys who throw faeces at passersby?

Thread necromancy aside, I believe my original post asked for an in-character reason for them to exist - not "so melee can hit things from further". Maybe the elves wanted to fight against gnomes on terrorbirds or something, but those are barely tall enough to warrant a greatsword, let alone a bloody great pollaxe that doesn't even have the fluke or [bleep]e of a halberd. Speaking of which, why DID they call it a halberd instead of just a pollaxe, since it doesn't actually have a (visible) [bleep]e or fluke?

I almost always smell like my girlfriend now, even if I haven't seen her recently. My mother whinges about it to no end. That said, I just ate curry. Use your imagination. Some days (when I have fencing), I come home smelling like the insides of a mask, jacket and glove, with the intoxicating aroma of male sweat all over. It isn't really that nice.

Fix the shooting animations for the bow first, as well as the length of the bows themselves before whinging about putting a quiver in a stupid position like on your back. One: A right-handed person holds the bow in their left hand. Two: You shoot with your bow-arm in the lead, not facing your target. Three: A shortbow is not the length of your forearm. It's about four and a half foot long. Four: A longbow is six foot long, not three. Remember than an arrow is two and a half feet long. Do you want to draw something that long from a leather case on your back? No. Hence why any archer worth their salt stuck their arrows in the ground in front of them, or at worst, in a quiver around their belt.

The tensile strength of the metal is what propels the bolt and thus gives the crossbow its power. Firing a slightly harder piece of ammunition at the same speed isn't going to achieve much.

CHAPTER THREE Richard awoke in a tent. It would have been easier for him to figure that out if he knew what a tent was. To him, it was a bedroll and blanket on dirt and grass, sheltered from the cold by canvas and a small brazier three feet away. What he could see of the world outside the tent flap was dark. A stiff breeze caused the canvas to flap, and it took Richard the better part of a minute to remember what happened. He groaned. A dim shape moved on the other side of the brazier. There was something disconcerting about being sheltered from the cold by a sheet of canvas propped up by sticks, with a copper basin full of red-hot coals an arm's length away. 'Richard?' It was Kalsis. 'You awake?' With grunt-provoking effort, Richard propped himself up on his elbows. 'Yeah. Where are we? Last I knew, Marius and I were near the farm after you left, then I blacked out.' Kalsis was silent. Canvas fluttered, and Richard could hear a faint gurgling sound from somewhere. Coals in the brazier cracked. The silence was trying extremely hard to be oppressive, but fell short of the 'dictator' mark. 'Well?' Richard asked. 'We're just north of Drasin,' was all the Amardian boy said for a while, then: 'They picked me up a few miles south of Torquin. They're apparently part of the seventh light cavalry, out of Mellias.' Richard laid back down on his bedroll, and rolled over away from the brazier. Mostly because his backside was cold. 'There's something you're not telling me, Kal. Seventh light cavalry? And what? Didn't you say your father saw horsemen near the village?' There was the sound of cloth rustling. 'I don't know. Some of the men are wounded, and they wouldn't say anything when I asked them about the village.' 'Marius?' 'Haven't seen him. They said they picked you up out cold near a farm, and you were alone. I hope Marius is alright. I hope everyone's alright.' Me too, was the only thing that lined up in Richard's mind for him to say, but he didn't say it. He made links in his mind. Then he slept. * The little room was dark, humid and had the smell of cabbages about it. A small coffee table had been conscripted to bear an ashtray of ridiculous proportions and a bottle of whiskey, with two glasses. Smoke hung thickly in the air like wispy grey syrup. A dribbly candle stood atop a skull on a small shelf. 'Why the candle?' asked a raspy voice which had yet to develop the slur that was the blessing of alcohol. 'You could have used a lamp.' The figure on the other side of the table was silent. Grey smoke streamed out of the darkness to add to the ominous atmosphere, as it were. Tap, tap. Ashes floated down into the wide bowl like warm snow, some still shimmering orange. 'Alright,' said the first voice, 'don't need to know. Gotcha. Tell me -' a hand reached out and poured another glass of whiskey '- why Die Torquin? Harmless village, isn't it? Least that's what I thought when I went on that market day. 'course, all my money disappeared, but that isn't really news to me anymore.' Still silence. 'Why? Was there anything to find? Not that I'd know what you could find after you torch the place. Still, considerate. Burned it after the harvest had been sold? Nice touch there. That gives Drasin a couple of days' extra food.' The voice carried a hint of ironic approval. Silence. Wax crawled from the candle's lip, down the skull, over the edge of the shelf and then onto the stone floor, where it cooled in a yellow lump. A draught snuck its way in under the door, bringing snowflakes to scatter themsleves along the floor before melting. The raspy man coughed. 'No word from Marius?' The silent man was predictably silent. He shook his head. * Lieutenant Pritz was shaving in his tent early in the morning when the boy came in unexpectedly, and as it was unexpected, it was rather surprising to a straightforward cavalry officer such as himself. He winced. He was mild-tempered, though, and finished up without so much as a profanity before turning around, towel around his neck, to see a teenage boy at the flap. Bugger, he thought. He didn't like explaining things to young people. He didn't know the words to use. 'I was told you're the man in charge,' said the boy, whom the lieutenant remembered the squad picked up yesterday. Not being a lying man, Pritz nodded. It was the sort of nod that would come easily to a man who had someone named Tony at the door asking politely for debt money. 'I'm Richard,' said the boy, almost timidly. 'You picked me up near Die Torquin yesterday. Why didn't you leave me? What happened to the village?' Pritz stared. If I believed in gods I'd be thinking 'Oh god, oh gods, how in the hells do I tell him?' I swear someone told me before that people didn't think so quickly when it's cold. And I swear it's winter and damn well freezing. 'I'm not at liberty to answer that,' was what he said. 'I'm sorry.' Thank the gods - who don't exist! - for officer training. I swear they teach you the best cop-out lines there. 'Why are Kalsis and I being taken to Drasin?' Richard continued to ask. 'Why is a squad of cavalry being sent to Drasin in the first place? Does this have to do with the war?' Pritz almost swallowed his tongue. He knows, he knows. Bugger. He knows more than my men. 'Hush!' said Pritz, moving quickly to the tent flap to see if there was anyone outside who would hear. 'Nobody said there was a war on, understand?' he said to Richard in a low voice. 'There might be a little... misunderstanding... with our Amardian neighbours, but nobody said anything about a war. We're just going down to Drasin for a cup of tea, that's all. Yeah, that's it. A nice cuppa. It's cold.' Richard stared at him for a moment. Blond hair, blue eyes, hint of a stubble. Richard wasn't surprised. 'I'm sixteen, sir,' he said. 'I'm old enough to know that you don't need to bring sabres and a cart full of lances to a tea party.' Bugger. This one knows how to think. Pritz rubbed his chin, and winced where he touched his cut. 'Alright, fine. I'll be honest with you, kid. Come in, take a seat. Good.' He took a stool opposite Richard. I hate having to tell the truth to people. It's bad for morale. 'The Amardians raided Torquin. We don't know why. They burned the village, and we found you on the road near a farm. They must have thought you were dead. Your friend we found later, riding down to Drasin on a tired old horse. We're taking you two down for your protection. Does that answer your question?' Richard said nothing. He was silent for a few minutes. Pritz fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of his tunic. Crap, crap. Probably said it too bluntly. Crap. His parents were probably at home. Crap. Still silent, the boy stood up and walked out of the tent, cloak drawn tightly around his slim frame. Tiny snowflakes blew in through the open flap for a moment before it closed. Pritz didn't see the tears in Richard's eyes, but if he did, he probably would have said 'Crap' a few times. * Clear winter nights were some of Richard's favourite times, when the sky above was clear and stars shone brightly alongside the Belt, which glowed like a great necklace of little moons. Lieutenant Pritz's squad rode easily, more for the benefit of the injured soldiers than for actual comfort. They were close to Drasin now, and most of the men - and Richard, too - were of the opinion that there would be no point in resting until they were within the walls of the city and out of the biting cold. Kalsis rode to Richard's right, his lean face set in an expression of numb shock. Earlier in the day he realised, as Richard had, that Die Torquin was quite possibly in ruins by now, and their parents' fate was unknown. It didn't help that they didn't know what had happened to Marius, either. None of the men had seen the itinerant thief as they passed through the village. They were passing through sparse woodland, the trees doing nothing against the chill wind, which blew in gusts from time to time, shaking snow off branches and onto the path or a rider's lap. The path was leading downhill, and they could clearly see Drasin ahead, the lights of the bustling port city still lit and unlikely to dim anytime soon. From their vantage point, Richard could see that the city was built on a series of terraces down to the coast, with walls on the edge of every cliff as well as around the upper city. The city was clearly fortified against threats both on land and sea. Richard had never seen a city so large before, and his imagination went wild on the possibilities within those walls. Die Torquin was a farming community of less than three hundred people; Drasin was at least twenty times that, by his reckoning. And then there was the sea. Richard had only imagined it before, never seen. There it was, pale silver and black in the light of the Belt, golden near the docks of Drasin. It twinkled like the stars as waves swelled and broke. The wind blew the smell of salt towards them, stronger than he remembered it in Die Torquin. Ice gleamed in the moonlight. 'Like it, eh?' one of the soldiers asked him, seeing his expression of rapt interest. 'That there's one of the biggest ports on this side of the world. Not that it's saying much.' 'I don't see any farms,' Richard noted. The soldier laughed. 'Cities don't usually have them, and especially not in the dead of winter. The soil around Drasin isn't very good, so it gets its food from other places. It's got a decent fishing industry, though.' 'Look at it, Kalsis,' the boy said eagerly. 'It's beautiful.' Kalsis grunted. 'Yeah.' 'Leave him be,' the soldier said quietly. 'I think he's having a hard time.' Richard nodded as he shifted in the saddle uncomfortably. I should be, too. Why aren't I?

Excuse me? The last time I checked, rifling was only developed for infantry weapons in the 18th century. To say that rifling existed at the same time or even before the arquebus is like saying that we had M1A2s before the first Model T rolled off the production line.

So, you are saying that in effect, it's a pole-axe rather than a true halberd. A simple name change could stitch up so many loose ends. The defining point of a halberd is, after all, the fluke behind the blade which WAS used to pull riders off their horses. Without the fluke, it's just an axe with a long haft.

I suppose I have to do this just so people would understand... Suspension of disbelief.

Right. Clearly, you didn't understand one whit of the idea behind this. It's a point of discussion. Yes, it's a fantasy game and I damn well know how fantasy games work. That doesn't mean that I can't question the way it violates suspension of disbelief. I LIKE singling out details in games that don't quite fit, and frankly I don't see what right YOU have to tell me how to play a game. Again, suspension of disbelief. They can make things up, but that doesn't mean I can't nitpick on little details like why they'd develop a weapon that was developed with pulling riders off horses then butchering them in mind. I REALLY have to write something at some point so people would understand the concept of suspension of disbelief.

That's a mechanical reason, though, rather than an in-character reason. Why would Runescapian people develop the weapon when the conditions that make its creation necessary do not exist?

Don't you just LOVE JAGeX's attention to detail?

Precisely. There isn't a reason that this weapon would have been developed as a halberd - that is, a weapon designed and created SPECIFICALLY to counter cavalry. If the elves needed a long-range weapon to attack besiegers, then they have their bows, and for close combat, they have swords. I wouldn't put boiling oil and pitch out of the question either, but definitely not halberds, because they're a formation weapon and that's not the idea when you're besieged. I didn't think of the Terrorbirds. I'm not actually a member, so I'm going by the map and whatever information comes out. I suppose they're slightly plausible, but their size doesn't really warrant a long-hafted weapon. I'll just reiterate and say that JAGeX hasn't provided a reason for the weapon to have been developed and created in context, as in, not just for the reason of game mechanics. They're taking suspension of disbelief and beating it with an iron pipe. Coincidentally, halberds aren't supposed to have hafts that are that long. Spears would, but not halberds. Anyway, this is just me pointing out an inconsistency. Feel free to add your own, with the proviso that we are thinking in-character for the game, so you don't just say "WE DUN HAV MAGE IN RL NUB!!!1!!ROFLOLOMGHAXBBQ!!111^_^"