Peregrin, Estar: thanks for the clarification! (I have both RQ and HM. Good design in both cases, IMHO.).

By the way, while I think about it, if anyone actually thinks quibbling over longbows doing d10 vs. xbows d8 in 4e is stupid, don't forget that the wacky powers in 4e can pump damage up to 2 dice or 4 dice or whatever - 7 dice at the outside, or even 7 dice maxed on a crit...(its important for the same reason they decided to make Rapiers an exotic weapon: its the only light blade in the PHB that does d8s). So in context, yes its important.

Out of context however, I mostly want to bitch about it because earlier in D&D history (between early 2e, and 2e skills and powers, in dragon magazine letters and such) people already went in to bat for augmented crossbow damage on realism grounds, and like all player input and discussion prior to 4e, it got chucked away by some arrogant pricks circle jerking in a basement somewhere who decided everything was 'legacy rules' and dumped it to deliberately make something totally different so that 3rd party publishers couldn't compete with the existing OGL & they could resell all the same splats again.

FADE IN:

               Whilest the council was sitting in Pampeluna the White
               Company, having encamped in a neighboring valley, close to
               the companies of La Nuit and of Black Ortingo, were  
               amusing themselves with sword-play, wrestling, and shooting at
               the shields, which they had placed on the hillside to serve as
               butts.

               The younger archers with their coats of mail thrown aside,
               their brown or flaxen hair tossing in the wind, and their
               jerkin turned back to give free play to their brawny chests
               and arms, stood in lines, each loosing a shaft in turn, While
               Johnston, Aylward, Black Simon, and half a score of elders
               lounged up and down with a critical eyes, and a word of rough
               praise or curt censure for the marksmen. Behind stood knots
               of Gascon and Brabant crossbowmen from the companies of
               Ortingo and La Nuit, leaning upon their unsightly weapons
               and watching the practice of the Englishmen.

              EXT. ON THE MARKSMEN LINE, DAY

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         A good shot, Hewitt, A Good Shot!

               The young bowman stood with his bow in his left hand gazing
               with parted lips after his flying shaft.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         You see, she finds the ring, as I
                         knew she would from the moment your
                         string twanged.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Loose it easy, and steady, yet sharp,
                         By my hilt! mon gar, it is very well
                         when you do but shoot at a shield,
                         when there is a man behind the shield
                         and he rides at you with wave of
                         sword and glint of eyes from behind
                         his vizer, you may find him a less
                         easy mark.

                                     HEWITT
                         It is a mark I have found before
                         now.

                                     AYLWARD
                         And shall again camarade, I doubt
                         not, But Hola!, who is this who holds
                         his bow like a crow-keeper?

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         It is Silas Petersen, of Horsham.  
                         Do not wink with one eye and look
                         with the other, Silas, and do not
                         hop and dance after you shoot, with
                         your tongue out, for that will not
                         speed it upon its way. Stand straight
                         and firm, as God made you. Move not
                         the Bow-arm, and steady with the
                         drawing hand.

                                     BLACK SIMON
                         I' Faith

                                     BLACK SIMON
                         I am a spearman myself and am more
                         fitted for hand-strokes than for
                         such work as this. Yet I have spent
                         my days among bowmen, and I have
                         seen many brave shafts sped. I will
                         not say but that we have good marksmen
                         here, and that this Company would be
                         accounted a fine body of archers at
                         any time or place. Yet I do not see
                         any men who bend so strong a bow or
                         shoot as true a shaft as those whom
                         I have known.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         You say sooth...

               Old Johnston turned his seamed and grizzled face upon the
               man-at-arms.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         See Yonder,

               He pointed to a bombard which lay within the camp

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         ...there is what has done scath to
                         good bowmanship, with its filthy
                         soot and foolish roaring mouth. I
                         wonder that a true knight, like our
                         prince, should carry such a scurvy
                         thing in his train. Robin, thou red-
                         headed lurden, how oft must I tell
                         thee not to shoot straight with a
                         quarter wind blowing across the mark?

                                     AYLWARD
                         By those ten-fingered Bones! There
                         was some fine bowmen at the intaking
                         of Calais. I well remember that, on
                         the occasion of an outfall, A Genoan
                         raised his arm over the mantlet and
                         shook it at us, a hundred paces from
                         our line.  There were twenty who
                         loosed shafts at him, and when the
                         man was afterwards slain, it was
                         found that he had taken eighteen
                         through his fore-arm.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         And I can call to mind that when the
                         great cog "Christopher", which the
                         French had taken from us, was moored
                         two hundred paces from the shore,
                         two archers, little Robin Withstaif
                         and Elias Baddlesmere, in four shots
                         each cut every strand of her hempen
                         anchor cord so she well-nigh came
                         upon the rocks.

                                     BLACK SIMON
                         Good shooting, i' faith, rare
                         shooting. But I have seen you
                         Johnston, and you Samkin Aylward,
                         and one or two others that are still
                         with us, shoot as well as the best.
                         Was it not you Johnston, who took
                         the fat ox at Finsbury butts against
                         the pick of London town?

               A sunburnt and black-eyed Brabanter had stood near the old
               archers, leaning upon a large crossbow and listening to their
               talk which had been carried out in that hybrid camp dialect
               which both nations could understand. He was a squat bull-
               necked man, clad in an iron helmet, mail tunic, and woolen
               gambesson of his class. A jacket with hanging sleeves, slashed
               with velvet at the neck and wrists showed he was a man of
               some consideration, an under-officer or file leader of his
               company.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         I cannot think... why you English
                         should be so fond of your six-foot
                         stick. If it amuse you to bend it,
                         well and good. But why should I strain
                         and pull, when my little mouliner
                         will do all for me, and better than
                         I care to do it for myself?

                                     AYLWARD
                         I have seen good shooting with the
                         prod and the latch, but By My Hilt!
                         camarade, with all respect to you
                         and your bow, I think that is but a
                         woman's weapon, which a woman can
                         point and loose as easily as a man.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         I know not about that... but this I
                         know, that though I have served
                         fourteen years, I have never seen an
                         Englishman do aught with the long-
                         bow which I could not do better with
                         my arbalest. By The Three Kings! I
                         would even go further, and say that
                         I have done things with my arbalest
                         which no Englishman could do with
                         his longbow.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Well said, mon gar, A good cock has
                         ever a brave call. Now, I have shot
                         little of late, but there is Johnston
                         here who will try a round with you
                         for the honor of the Company.

                                     BLACK SIMON
                         And I will lay a gallon of Jarancon
                         wine upon the long-bow, though I had
                         rather, for my own drinking, that it
                         were a quart of Twynham ale.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         I take both your challenge and your
                         wager.

               The Brabanter Officer threw off his jacket and glanced keenly
               about him with black twinkling eyes.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         I cannot see any fitting mark, for I
                         care not to waste a bolt on these
                         shields, which a drunken boor could
                         not miss at a village kermesse.

                                     ENGLISH MAN-AT-ARMS
                         This is a perilous man...
                              (whispered)

               The English Man-At-Arms plucked at Aylward's Sleeve

                                     ENGLISH MAN-AT-ARMS
                         He is the best marksman of all the
                         crossbow companies, and it was he
                         who brought down the Constable de
                         Bourbon at Brignais. I fear your man
                         will come by little honor with him.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Yet I have seen Johnston shoot this
                         twenty years, and I will not flinch
                         from it. How say you, old war-hound,
                         will you not have a flight shot or
                         two with this springald?

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         Tut, tut, Aylward, My day is passed,
                         and it is for the younger ones to
                         hold what we have gained. I take it
                         unkindly of thee, Samkin, that thou
                         shouldst call all eyes thus upon a
                         broken bowman who could once shoot a
                         fair shaft. Let me feel that bow,
                         Wilkins!

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         It is a Scotch bow I see, for the
                         upper nock is without and the lower
                         within. By the black rood! It is a
                         good piece of yew, well nocked, well
                         strung, well waxed and very joyful
                         to the feel. I think even now that I
                         might hit any large and goodly mark
                         with a bow like this. Turn thy quiver
                         to me Aylward, I love an ash arrow
                         pierced with cornel-wood for a roving
                         shaft.

                                     AYLWARD
                         By My Hilt!, and So Do I! These three
                         gander-winged shafts are such.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         So I see, Comrade. It has been my
                         wont to choose a saddle-backed feather
                         for a dead shaft, and a swine-back
                         for a smooth flier. I will take two
                         of them. Ah! Samkin, lad, the eye
                         grows dim and the hand less firm as
                         the days pass.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         Come then, are you not ready?

               The crossbowman had watched with ill-concealed impatience at
               the slow and methodic movements of his antagonist.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         I will venture a rover with you, or
                         try long-butts, or hoyles. To my
                         mind the longbow is a better weapon,
                         but it may be ill for me to prove
                         it.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         So I Think.

               The Crossbowman drew his moulinet from his girdle,and fixing
               it to the windlass, he drew back the powerful double cord
               until it had clicked into the catch. Then from a quiver he
               drew a short thick quarrel, which he placed with the utmost
               care into the groove. Word had spread of what was going
               forward and the rivals were already surrounded, not only by
               the English Archers of the Company, but by hundreds of
               arbalestiers, and men-at-arms from the bands of Ortingo and
               La Nuit, to the latter of which the Brabanter belonged.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         There is a mark yonder on the hill,
                         mayhap you can discern it.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         I see something, but it is a very
                         long shoot.

               Old Johnston shaded his eyes with his hand.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         A fair shoot - a fair shoot! Stand
                         aside, Arnaud, lest you find a bolt
                         through your gizzard. Now comrade, I
                         take no flight shot, and I give you
                         the vantage of watching my shaft.

               As he spoke he raised the arbalest to his shoulder and was
               about to pull the trigger, when a large grey stork flapped
               heavily into view; skimming over the brow of a hill, and
               then soaring up into the air to pass the valley. Its shrill
               and piercing cries drew all eyes upon it, and, as it came
               nearer, a dark spot which circled above it which resolved
               itself into a peregrine falcon, which hovered over the storks
               head, poising itself from time-to-time, and watching its
               chance of closing with its clumsy quarry. Nearer and nearer
               came the two birds, all absorbed in their own contest, the
               stork wheeling upwards, the hawk still fluttering above it,
               until they were not a hundred paces from the camp.

               The Brabanter raised his weapon to the sky and there came
               the short twang of his powerful string. His bolt struck the
               stork just where the wings meet the body,and the bird whirled
               aloft in a last convulsive flutter before falling wounded
               and flopping to the earth.

               A roar of applause burst from the crossbowmen but at the
               instant the bolt had struck its mark Old Johnston who had
               stood listlessly with arrow on string bent his bow and sped
               a shaft through the body of the falcon. Whipping the other
               from his belt, he set it skimming a few feet from the earth
               with so true an aim that it struck and transfixed the stork
               for the second time ere it could reach the ground.

               A deep-chested shout of delight burst from the archers at
               the sight of this double feat, and Aylward danced with joy,
               threw his arms around the old marksman with such vigor that
               their mail tunics clanged again.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Ah! camarade, you shall have a stoup
                         with me for this! What then, old
                         dog, would not the hawk please thee,
                         but thou must have the stork as well?
                         Oh, to my heart, again!

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         It is a pretty piece of yew, and
                         well strung.
                              (with a twinkle in
                              his deep-set grey
                              eyes)
                         Even an old broken bowman might find
                         the clout with a bow like this.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                              (in a surly voice)
                         You have done very well, But it seems
                         to me that you have not yet shown
                         yourself to be a better marksman
                         than I, for I have struck at that
                         which I aimed, and, By The Kings
                         Three! no man can do more.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         It would ill beseem me to claim to
                         be a better marksman, for I have
                         heard great things of your skill. I
                         did but wish to show that the long-
                         bow could do that which an arbalest
                         cannot do, for you could not with
                         your moulinet have your string ready
                         to speed another shaft ere the bird
                         drop to the earth.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         In that you have the vantage. By
                         Saint James! it is now my turn to
                         show you where my weapon has the
                         better of you. I pray you to draw a
                         flight shaft with all your strength
                         down the valley, that we may see the
                         length of your shoot.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         That is a very strong prod of yours...

               He shook his grizzled head as he glanced at the thick arch
               and powerful strings of his rival's arbalest.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         I have little doubt that you can
                         overshoot me, and yet I have seen
                         bowmen who could send a cloth-yard
                         arrow further than you could speed a
                         quarrel.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         So I have heard, and yet it is a
                         strange thing that these wondrous
                         bowmen are never where I chance to
                         be. Pace out the distance with a
                         wand, at every five-score, and do
                         you Arnaud, stand at the fifth wand
                         to carry my bolts back to me.

               A line was measured down the valley, and Johnston, drawing
               an arrow to the very head, sent it whistling over the row of
               wands.

                                     BYSTANDERS
                         Bravely Done!, A Rare Shoot! It is
                         well up to the fourth mark.

                                     AYLWARD
                         By My Hilt! It is over it, I can see
                         where they have stooped to gather up
                         the shaft.

                                     OLD JOHNSTON
                         We shall hear anon.

               Presently a young archer came running to say the arrow had
               fallen twenty paces beyond the fourth wand.

                                     BLACK SIMON
                         Four hundred paces and a score, I'
                         faith it is a very long flight. Yet
                         wood and steel may do more than flesh
                         and blood.

               The Brabanter stepped forward with a smile of conscious
               triumph, and loosed the cord of his weapon. A shout burst
               from his comrades as they watched the swift and lofty flight
               of the heavy bolt.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Over the fourth...
                              (Aylward groaned)
                         By My Hilt! I think it is well up to
                         the fifth!

                                     GASCON
                         It is over the fifth!

               A comrade came forward to say the bolt had pitched eight
               paces beyond the mark of five hundred.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         Which weapon hath the vantage now?

               He strutted proudly with the shouldered arbalest, amid the
               applause of his companions.

               BIG JOHN STEPPED FORWARD TO THE LINE. HIS MIGHTY SHOULDERS
               AND RED HEAD TOWERED ABOVE THE THRONG OF HIS COMRADES...

                                     BIG JOHN
                         Nay, not so fast. I must have a word
                         with you ere you crow so loudly.
                         Where is my little popper? By sainted
                         Dick of Hampole! It will be a strange
                         thing if I cannot outshoot that thing
                         of thine, which to my eyes is more
                         like a rat-trap than a bow. Will you
                         try another flight, or do you stand
                         by your last?

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         Five hundred and eight paces will
                         serve my turn.

                                     AYLWARD
                              (whispering)
                         Tut, John, you never were a marksman.
                         Why must you thrust your spoon into
                         this dish?

                                     BIG JOHN
                         Easy and slow, Aylward. There are
                         many things which I cannot do, but
                         there are also one or two which I
                         have the trick of. It is in my mind
                         that I can beat this shoot, if my
                         bow will but hold together.

                                     THE ARCHER WATCHING
                         Go on, old babe of the woods! Have
                         at it Hampshire!

                                     BIG JOHN
                         By my soul! You may grin, but I
                         learned how to make the long shoot
                         from old Hob Miller of Milford.

               He took up a big black bow as he spoke, and sitting down
               upon the ground he placed his two feet at either end of the
               stave. With an arrow fitted, he then pulled the string towards
               him with both hands until the head of the shaft was level
               with the wood. The great bow creaked and groaned and the
               cord vibrated with the tension.

                                     BIG JOHN
                         Who is this fool's head who stands
                         in the way of my shoot?

               Big John was craning his neck up from the ground looking
               down the valley.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         He stands on the further side of my
                         mark, so he has little to fear from
                         you.

                                     BIG JOHN
                         Well, the saints assoil him! Though
                         I think he is over near to be scathed.

               As he spoke he raised his two feet, with the bow stave upon
               their soles, and his cord twanged with a deep rich hum hich
               might be heard from across the valley. The measurer in the
               distance fell flat upon his face, and then jumping up again,
               began to run in the opposite direction.

                                     BOWMAN
                         Well shot, old lad! It is indeed
                         over his head!

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         Mon Dieu! Who ever saw such a shoot!

                                     BIG JOHN
                         It is but a trick. Many times I have
                         won a gallon of Ale by covering a
                         mile in three flights down Wilverly
                         Chase.

                                     ARCHER IN THE DISTANCE
                              (shouting)
                         It fell a hundred and thirty paces
                         beyond the fifth mark!

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         Six hundred and thirty paces! Mon
                         Dieu! but that is a shoot! And yet
                         it says nothing for your weapon, mon
                         gros camarade, for it was by turning
                         yourself into a crossbow that you
                         did it.

                                     AYLWARD
                         By My Hilt! There is truth in that...
                         And now friend, I will myself show
                         you the vantage of the long-bow. I
                         pray you to speed a bolt against
                         yonder shield with all your force.
                         It is an inch of Elm with bull's
                         hide over it.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                              (he growled)
                         I scarce shot as many shafts at
                         Brignais, though I found a better
                         mark there than a cantle of bull's
                         hide. But what is this, Englishman?
                         The shield hangs not one hundred
                         paces from me, and a blind man could
                         strike it.

               He screwed up his string to the furthest pitch, and shot his
               quarrel at the dangling shield. Aylward, who had drawn an
               arrow from his quiver, carefully greased the head of it, and
               sped it at the same mark.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Run Wilkins, and fetch me the shield.

               Long where the faces of the Englishmen and broad the laugh
               of the crossbowmen as the heavy mantlet was carried to them
               for in the center was the thick Brabant bolt driven deeply
               into the wood, while there was neither sign nor trace of the
               clothyard shaft.

                                     BRABANTER CROSSBOWMAN
                         By The Three Kings! This time there
                         is no gainsaying which is the better
                         weapon, or which is the truer hand
                         that held it. You have missed the
                         shield, Englishman.

                                     AYLWARD
                         Tarry a bit! Tarry a bit, mon gar.

               Aylward turned the shield around to show a round clear hole
               in the wood at the back of it.

                                     AYLWARD
                         My shaft has passed through it
                         camarade. and I trow the one which
                         goes through is more to be feared
                         than that which bides on the way.

               The Brabanter stamped his foot with mortification, and was
               about to make some angry reply, when Alleyne Edricson came
               riding up to the crowds of archers.

                                     ALLEYNE EDRICSON
                         Sir Nigel will be here anon, and it
                         is his wish to speak with the company.


Excerpt from The White Company
By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Quote from: David Johansen;372221Was it Turpin or some other bishop in a more recent battle?  I can't remember.

Bishop Odo at the Battle of Hastings as depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry. Not that I already mentioned it upthread or anything...

Quote from: Benoist;372222No no no. I -want- to get you started on this. I'm interested in your take on that topic.
So... what's that remark about?

Well, if you want the historical version, you can start here and work your way forward through the thread, but basically I can sum it up for you thus: if you're willing to pass up attack bonuses of as much as +4 because you're too fucking lazy or too fucking stupid to write down the numbers on your fucking character sheet and/or can't tell the fucking difference between an opponent in armor versus an opponent with just an armor class, then you fucking deserve to miss every fucking time you roll the fucking die.

See, when I learned to play D&D, my characters actually liked to hit their opponents, so I would scrape for every bonus I could find, and this is such a mindnumbingly simple one to add that I can't imagine why so many gamers can't be pissed to get a free +1 or better.

I mean, the gawddamned goldenrod character sheets even had the fucking space for you already printed on them, for gawd's sake.

So that's my take.

Now see what you did? That's like my whole monthly allotment of profanity burned up in one post.

See, exactly, this is why I have trouble imagining the people who wrote second and fourth edition ever actually played D&D.

Ah well, first edition had plenty of warts like level limits and the way elves were just better than everyone.

But yeah, the big issue is that my eight year old wants to play a wizard but doesn't like being told he's out of spells.  Really what I need is Palladium Fantasy First edition.  (the second best version of D&D after XXVx...)

Quote from: IMLegend;372094Yeah, cuz I'm sure your 8 year old gives a shit about how "realistically accurate" the weapon damage values are. :rolleyes:

Sure but he thinks crossbows are cool and is smart enough to know when he's been penalized for having one.

Foster, thanks for that post upthread about magic swords.
Excellent points. I think you're probably right that for fighters esp. in Classic D&D, the loot made the man, so the best magic weapons went to the otherwise "bland" fighters. It's sort of the other way around from gimping Clerics to compensate for their spells, and really, it's a clever design decision.

Quote from: Bloody Stupid Johnson;372226By the way, while I think about it, if anyone actually thinks quibbling over longbows doing d10 vs. xbows d8 in 4e is stupid, don't forget that the wacky powers in 4e can pump damage up to 2 dice or 4 dice or whatever - 7 dice at the outside, or even 7 dice maxed on a crit...(its important for the same reason they decided to make Rapiers an exotic weapon: its the only light blade in the PHB that does d8s). So in context, yes its important.

Actually I think quibbling is stupid because of this. I grant that this makes mathematical simulation of reality guys unhappy. But hey, D&D.

Anyhow, Without taking the powers into account all you get is a pinhole view of how it all works. The skilled user (ie, depending on character class) can make any weapon more deadly. A ranger handles a crossbow different than a warlord does, and both are better than a melee fighter*

In any case, the superior crossbow does 1d10, +3 proficiency (more accurate), and 20/40 range (which is the same as the longbow). It's a minor action to load, and because it's exotic, requires a feat. It's in Adventurers Vault.

The longbow does 1d10, +2 proficiency. It's a  free action to load, and lighter.

Then there's the greatbow (also in AV) which does 1d12, and has 25/50 range which is longer range than either the superior crossbow or the longbow.
 
Oh and if the kids is playing a wizard or sorcerer? Just give him magic missile or chaos bolt. They don't need a crossbow.


* The main reason I know this is my girlfriend is playing an archer-warlord using a superior crossbow. Her attacks are mostly team-oriented. For example, Paint the Target is an attack that does some damage, and then boosts the damage of other ranged attackers under her command. Pincushion is similar, but does 2x weapon damage, and boosts accuracy for teammates. By comparison, archer rangers are more prone to doing attacks that take advantage of their prime shot and quarrying abilities..because they are hunters, and not commanders. Fighters who carry ranged weapons just get to do the standard ranged attacks. They can operate the bow or the crossbow, but they don't have the deadly precision of the ranger or the "concentrate fire on my mark!" leadership qualities of warlords.

Quote from: The Shaman;372205Turpin wielded the sword Almace at Roncevalles, but yes, generally speaking the cleric weapon proscription stems from the prohibition about shedding blood.

So what about evil clerics?

Quote from: Werekoala;372286So what about evil clerics?

Evil clerics just deserve to be shot. With Laser guns. On top of sharks.

Quote from: Benoist;372302Evil clerics just deserve to be shot. With Laser guns. On top of sharks.

I'd hate to see how he feels about antipaladins... sheesh.

Quote from: Werekoala;372286So what about evil clerics?

Evil clerics is fun!  

We get to do stuff the Goody-Goods only dream about doing and we do it willingly and with great relish!

As clerics & Paladins are modelled after Crusaders, you don´t need to be evil. In fact, one of the most salient points in D&D is the rightful smiting & slaughtering the GOOD guys are allowed to deliver.
Evil Clerics == pointless.

Oh, I agree about Paladins at least. I've always maintained that Paladins can be just as evil as any other class in the game (and I'm talking about the Lawful Good kind) - I play them as quite zealous defenders of the faith, which can be quite inconvenient for everyone else.

Clerics have much more leeway (to be good or evil or anything in between), and you do in fact need evil clerics. Who else is going to create the roaming armies of the undead?

Since evil clerics (at least in Original D&D) are set up as mocking and perverted mirror-image of standard clerics -- crypto-Satanists to the standard clerics' crypto-Christians: they're labeled as "anticlerics," have all the same spells in reverse, and have all the same level titles but with the word "evil" added (evil acolyte, evil adept, evil priest, evil bishop, evil lama, etc.) -- it follows that they'd abide by the same weapon restrictions out of a sense of perverse irony, the same way they have upside-down crosses, "unholy water," and so forth. Think of cartoonish mustachio-twirling 60s-70s Anton LaVey/Rosemary's Baby/if-Chick-Tracts-were-true sort of Satanists; they're not just evil, they're proudly, self-identified Evil, presumably at least partly for the sake of taking the piss out of the standard (non-evil) clerical establishment.