Automatic umpire reports:
The game has now started... Let the carnage commence!
Balaam's Ass reports:
After realising the game had started, I quickly assembled my strike team and constructed a make-shift knife. We approached the abode of one Frances Robinson and after a prolonged knock on the door by my accomplice she opened looking very annoyed. I proceded to place the knife in her belly and as she slumped to the door she seemed even more annoyed that this was all we had woken her up for. Hmmm I suppose that's what assassins is all about.
Our Man in Havana reports:
Please note that the erstwhile Ug Gug is now dead because he thought the game began tomorrow night. Hence I may be pissed, but I can still take care of any Emma assassin that comes my way. Ug Gug is proposed for the Lemming award, and I stress that he had nothing to do with anything that happened in previos terms in conjunction with myself (other than kill him when he was already dead). He calims that he's going to get me back, but could you believe such nonsense?
Reverend Green reports:
Reverend Green in the study with the revolver.
Insincerity is a sin.
Insincere Dave reports:
Someone assassinated me while I was asleep. I don't know who he was, but he was certainly a real smooth guy! He must have spent days coming up with that plan!
Colonel Mustard reports:
Colonel Mustard in the salon with the dagger.
JJ. The Musical Ass Factory Foundation reports:
The Musical Ass Factory Foundation had just become a registered charity, when it was cruelly crushed. I can't remember who it was that killed me, just like I couldn't remember either that I was in the assassins, or when it began. Therefore my assassin had no trouble in stabbing me in the lung with a carrot as I lay sleeping, less than 10 hours since the game had begun, and more than 10 hours since I had checked my email. Alas.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, what should arrive this morning, but Newboy - knocking on my door for a semi-legitimate reason, and standing there looking innocent.
Needless to say, I opened the door, and shot her repeatedly, thanking her silently for saving me the effort of doing the same at her room later today.
Moral of the story: A cosh too big to wield feasibly won't work if the target has a loaded RBG.
Newboy reports:
Newboy was shot this morning by The Incredible pyjama-ed Sulk.
All innocent and sweet I came with Marmelade. Strangely, the gift did not fool him (I thought it a cunning use of candied fruit on a par with the Trojan Horse- except you could not eat the Trojan Horse so in fact _my_ idea was better. Except the Sulk wasn't as stupid as a Trojan....)
Anyway. He shot me. I'm dead. The end.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Remembering his threats against my life prior to the start of the game, I decided that removing Ug Gug for 4 hours was probably a good idea. A straight shot to the chest after he'd finished his lunch took care of him. Not much to say, really, although with his dying breath he complained about the mess on his shirt.
The Society Curio reports:
On seeing my enemy on King's Parade, I ran after him as auspiciously as possible, waving a rubber band gun in the air. He didn't turn round until it was too late. My first kill EVER!
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
The Horse stalked down King's parade, cautiously surveying the surrounding crowds for a target, until he was distracted in a zen-like manner by the beautiful flight of a bird. But then, hearing the distinctive footfall of an unsubtle and excited revolutionary, swiftly followed by the characteristic click of an RBG, he rather pathetically died.
Dammit! not paranoid enough!
SHARK reports:
I came out from my concealment just as the taget was leaving. She reached into her handbag but the weapon of choice was lacking any dangerous parts (excluding ring tone) - her freind should be able to assist I hear they do wonderful things with gun shot wounds.
Krimson reports:
I was sneaking around outside Burns's door with my partner The Society Curio. We heard him speak on the telephone and figured that in his preoccupation he might disregard basic safety precautions. We knocked on the door, Burns carelessly opened it and I shot him.
Burns reports:
Not so ! Not so ! I was listening to music actually. True, the assassin cunningly used one of my friends to tempt me into opening the door, but as he is also an assassin I should have been a shade more cautious...
Colonel Mustard reports:
What a shame, I was just a few minutes late...
Colonel Mustard reports:
Having arrived at the scene of crime of the gruesome murder of Dr Black (James Jane), I tried to catch his assassins Johannes and David but they escaped.
Next I implemented the incredibly cunning plan of dressing up as Andrew Agassi in the hope that assassins would ask me for an autograph so that I could stab them with my penknife. Thus disguised I proceeded to David Chow's room, but he slammed the door before I could get into the corridor. After some visits to other colleges, I returned, found the door open again and opened fire through the kitchen window. Frightfully Vicious fire (well, water) was returned, so I retreated.
Insincere Dave reports:
Hey guys! Assassins is excellent!! Bjorn Killthesamepersontwicehauer just killed me again!! I almost killed him, but then I didn't.
Colonel Mustard reports:
Colonel Mustard with the grenade launcher outside the Billiard Room.
When I was walking out of Blue Boar, I suddenly spotted Insincere Dave again and hence tried to ambush him at the bottom of his staircase. However he spotted me and had his supersoaker out already. He managed to dive into the adjacent stairwell, which suggested he would be trying to get around me via a different floor of the building. Dashing upstairs I arrived just in time to block his way. We exchange several shots along the corridor, then he suddenly tried to charge through a parallel corridor. Quickly diving into his path, I managed to spin my gun around in time and caught him in the chest.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Returning form a (perfectly legitimate) trip to Darwin, I decided to drop in on a mysterious and beautiful friend from ages past - Spice by name.
Knocking on her door brought no answer, but music was playing, and (upon trying) the door was unlocked... So burst in, cosh in hand, to discover the room empty - disappointed, I burst out again, to run into her, clad only in a dressing gown, and unarmed... After panic had finished setting in, she attempted to run, but I caught her twice in the body with my cosh, leaving her paralysed...
I attempted to negotiate with her, but she proved stubborn - so I was forced to shoot her. In the forehead. At point blank range. Three times.
After that, I slit her throat, and having communed with the corpse for a while, departed once more into the... erm... day.
Professor Plum reports:
Professor Plum with the LINAC outside Hall.
As a man with a degree of suspicion I was carefully looking around when I walked through Gonville Court and truly I espied someone wanting to go Back to Basics. This would however be bad for my LINAC research budget, hence I sent two of my genetically modified homing pigeons after him, but the didn't hit home. Hence it was time to bring out my miniature LINAC, however by this time my opponent had brought out his very basic weapon, a rubberband, which missed me by miles on the first shot. Then before I had my LINAC out, he had already picked his band up again so I stumbled backwards in an Ed-Noksian manner struggling to get my weapon out. His second shot didn't get me either and I finally managed to get my LINAC out and perforated his chest.
Memo to self: I shall improve my draw.
Back to Basics reports:
My people have designed for me a brand new weapon of destruction. It's made from a resilient elongatable substance that is capable of storing energy by means of its very molecular stucture! It's light, it's compact, it's even digitally launched! I call it: the DEVICE.
Walking through Caius armed with this wonder I felt no fear upon spying the familiar face of a notorious killer, and rapidly closed the distance. His first thrown blade flew well clear of me, whilst my answering DEVICE chose not to take the optimum flight path and ended up at his feet. The second blade came at head height, enabling me to combine evasion with recovery of the DEVICE. The murderer was then chased back, struggling to free his main weapon from concealment, past a confused colleged choir. My second shot was launched from near point blank range, yet by some miracle the evildoer survived. And pulled his rather large gun out. And shot me in the stomach.
P.S. I'm going to Cardiff from tomorrow (Friday) until Monday, so won't be around for anyone to kill. Unless you're in Cardiff too.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Feeling mildly vindictive, and attempting to put off caff, I decided to check Newboy's usual haunt, on the way to supper - there she was, unarmed, and unsuspecting...
So I shot her.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I was sitting in the computer room checking up on the previous killings, when I saw David Knipe come in. As soon as he saw me, he ran away, while I tried to get out a weapon. Unfortunately, I had a water pistol which I didn't really want to use, while he had a cap gun. As he got within range, I tried to throw a knife at him, but too late. Apparently he tried to kill me this afternoon when I was out, and was confronted by my bodyguard. Revenge will follow.
The Society Curio reports:
Having earlier been foiled in my attempt on the life of Frightfully Vicious by the rantings of a concerned bystander (a curse be upon him), I knew a vendetta would develop between us. At one of my more alert moments during dinner, I noticed him passing through in the direction of the computer room and saw my chance to finish him off once and for all. Ever paranoid of enemies hiding in every shadow, I left drawing my gun until the last possible moment, which was a bit stupid - if you think about it. Rounding the corner, I discovered he had positioned himself to see anyone coming through. Had my gun been in my hand, it would have ended then; my error and his speed in drawing a weapon forced me to retreat beyond range. He followed me round the corner, only to discover that I had drawn a weapon whose range was superior to that of his knife. The tables had turned. After retreating a short distance, he made a stand by bravely throwing his knife at me, just as I fired my first shot, which was a dud. Although he informs me his knife slipped out of his hand. (I don't think it hit me, and if I remember right throwing knives doesn't count anyway.) A further two shots to the head finished him off.
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
Oh, why aren't we allowed to shoot Matt Garrett?
(note that this was a failed attempt in the sense of failing to attempt to shoot him)
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Where Mrs Faithful's Poisoned Valentines Card had failed, her uncle eventually succeded - after stalking Spice for half an hour, he finally finished her off with a clear gunshot to the chest. Death followed instantly.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Hmm, my weapons are just way too cool. Someone else thought it would be fun to toy around with one of them and point it at me, despite just having witnessed what happened to the last person who did that. Next time I'll keep a better watch on my equipment.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Oops, this actually happened on Wednesday 20 June. Looks like I failed to use the software correctly again.
Gregor Clegane reports:
Stroke midnight outside Emma, my first pseudonym and I have a harmless walk and suddenly our man in Havana (where he apparently isn't at the moment), came around the corner. We drew, he drew, he shot, we shot, he ran, we ran after him, he reached a code locked door in time to save himself.
PS: You can pick up those darts at our rooms tomorrow, if you want to, Simon.
My first pseudonym reports:
I decided to take some time off and enjoy a bit of recreational killing, and what happened? Not one player was kind enough to emerge from their room and offer themselves for slaughter. Even the deadly Simon Ford ran away when I met him outside Emma. (PS: Simon, you can retrieve your ammunition by appointment from my house.)
Eventually, I found myself chez Ed Wallace. "Aha," I said to myself, "His window is open! A plan is revealed!" Cunningly stationing two decoys in ambush about his stairwell, I proceeded along the balcony crabwise, so to say, before affecting my startling entrance into the Wallace's lair.
He wasn't there. Warily, I visually interrogated the nearby rooms, but none was of interest except for a curiously darkened cell with the door ajar... and nobody inside. Where could he be? As I turned, I saw my companions diceing in the courtyard, away from their posts. Quickly, I moved away to the edge of the balcony to address them: "I shall stay here," said I, and verily, was I proved correct, as the fiendish Mr. Wallace rendered my person immobile with two quick shots to the back from that mysterious cell. As any good evil overlord would, he told me of his plans for World Domination, and of the precise events leading to my death: the guardsman employed to wait silently in ambush had in fact tried the target's door handle, and in doing so, alerted the room's occupant, who had promptly deserted his room for pastures new the moment his guards has disappeared. Grrrrrrrrr.
Then there was a carrot throwing competition, which everybody lost.
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
AHA! My plans for world domination are almost complete!!
Well, no, but shooting Nokes is a good start.
Harvey court is littered with root vegetables now.
Insincere Dave reports:
Just now I went up to Dan Jane's room. There were some people in there having a real interesting conversation! They were all yammering on for ages about free will. They sure do know a lot about philosophy!!
While they idly yammered, I carefully tested the door to see if it was unlocked, which it was. Dan Jane must care a lot about security! Then I went in and shot his face off while he lounged rudely in a set-tee. He put up a real good fight!
My next exploits are guaranteed to be even more fun!!!!!
Burns reports:
What do you mean 'a real good fight' ? I screamed, and that was about it.
Must snap out of this cannon fodder mentality.
Insincere Dave reports:
I refer you to http://www.moleman.freeserve.co.uk/id.htm
Krimson reports:
Early bird catches the worm, the saying goes. Unless the worm happens to be absurdly paranoid, of course. I waited outside The Incredible Sulks room for an hour early in the morning. When he emerged I shot him repeatedly, but only managed to hit his left arm. He then used his right arm to draw gun and shoot me in the chest.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, there was I, heading for a shower... I was being fairly careful walking out of my door, and checking caerfully...
However, owing to some odd noises earlier, I wa holding a loaded and cocked gun, in my pocket.
I was just criticising myself for being insanely paranoid, when I saw Krimson, sitting in ambush - I dived back, as he fired several times, hitting my left arm twice, drew and fired once - he stood and rushed forwards, his are damaged, attempting to shoot once more, hitting my left arm again (I was tiurned away, and partially hidden in a doorway). I shot again, from the hip - hitting him square in the chest.
JJ. The Musical Ass Factory Foundation reports:
My incomplitude was again shown to be most forthcoming as I was unable to remember to buy/make any weapons. Insincere Dave fooled me by knowing me quite well, so I wasn't up to my usual lightning defence reactions. He cunningly walked up to me and stabbed me in the twelvety with a stray bean procured from Johns hall, which was apparently a knife. It was crusty and stale enough to be convincing and it had the word "nif" etched onto it in biro. A lot of that isn't true, but you get the point. Shitstation.
Insincere Dave reports:
I went to St. John's to meet that great assassin 'Revenge In Lilac'. The way she killed me last term was really devious! Instead, I went to the wrong staircase and found someone who looked like her. I shot her in the leg before she asked what the hell was going on. I'm pretty smooth!!
I knifed Neil Morrison today, but I just realised it might not be a legal kill since it was between 9am and 5:30pm in a computer room. He fought back really hard!!
Automatic umpire reports:
Indeed, this does not count. Computer rooms are out-of-bounds during office-hours (9:00am to 5:30pm).
JJ. The Musical Ass Factory Foundation reports:
Oh goody! I am the champions.
Kelpie reports:
I happened to spot the Trilobite while watching the events around the Senate House at 10:30 or so. She was part of a demonstration to encourage the Director of the World Bank to drop the debt of 3rd world countries. I thought it might be nasty to stab her while both of us were participating in such a worthy event so I waited until afterwards to send the Trilobite to join the rest of her species, albeit for only a few short hours...
Insincere Dave reports:
Here's a pretty smooth character for you: The Society Curio. I saw him in the computer centre. Then I left the computer centre. Then he left the computer centre. I was waiting for him. What an original plan!! I perforated his puny torso with millions of white hot lead shards from my boomstick. I've never seen anything like it!
Insincere Dave reports:
Hey, since I'm such a nice guy, I think it's perverted and evil to kill the same person twice. But Burns just had to try to get his revenge. I'm sure he meant well!! He saw me sauntering out of Great Gate brandishing my semi-automatic Shoe-horne launcher and yelled an accursed battlecry before shooting a cap-gun at me. He was about six or seven feet away. Within seconds, my Shoe-hornes had sliced through his fetid body and begun dancing merrily about near some schoolchildren, who had been watching with some interest. They probably thought we were real cool!!
I went to several other colleges, but nobody was in. It was excellent!!!!
Burns reports:
I could've SWORN that was six inches...
Professor Calculus reports:
Spying my target chatting idly on Magdalene Bridge, I quickly nipped back to my room to pick up a dagger - you don't want gunshots scaring innocent civilians on Quayside - before heading back to finish him off. Luckily Zebidee was still there so I quickly thrust the knife in between his ribs while he was conversing with his rowing chums. A look of surprise turned to..well...surprise, really, as before he perished he informed me that he didn't realise he was playing this term. Oh well. With that he toppled over and into the Cam, before floating out of sight.
Gregor Clegane reports:
I was waiting to see whether Krimson would leave his hostel just after resurrection, but instead I happened on a 'monstorous' character, whose body happened to react in an unfortunate way to high velocity rounds (i.e. collapsing).
Krimson reports:
Gregor Clegane may be interested to know that I in fact left the hostel about two minutes after my resurrection.
The Society Curio reports:
I should inform you (since he probably won't) that David Chaplin is not playing. Someone signed him up as a prank (possibly himself in a fit of drunkenness). If I am lying he will soon refute this; since he probably doesn't even know this website is here, he will not. Umpire, can you please verify this and remove him from the game? Failing this, can people please go easy on him? He doesn't want to get wet but if you ask him nicely I'm sure he'll let you stab him or something.
Professor Plum reports:
Professor Plum in the study with the revolver. All shades of purple are belong to us.
Miss Scarlett reports:
Miss Scarlett with the revolver on the roof. All shades of red are belong to us. After visiting Frances, I went to Tim's room. Upon approaching his corridor I drew my revolver, when suddenly Comrade Krimson appeared from behind a corner. We opened fire at each other at point blank range (most notably his first two shots hit my left arm), but things were rather messy so that we decided on a duel on the roof.
Two revolvers, nothing else, ten paces each, the clock strikes three (obvioulsy somewhat too late), we turn and don't fire (because we are both out of range). A stand-off evolves at the access to a staircase, but with my slightlty better gun I finally hit...surprise...his left arm. Several exchanges of fire ensue, then after a salvo of fire from my gun I pretend to retreat for reloading. Krimson tries to use this moment by picking up the bands I fired (he didn't have any spares). However I had expected exactly that and another volley of fire takes off his right arm. Now somewhat helpless he tries to flee, but is eventually run down.
Krimson reports:
I was waiting in a nice spot for Balaam's Ass to return to his room. After a while I heard the door to the corridor open. I pulled out my gun and came out ready to kill. It turned out that the arrival was not Balaam's Ass but Miss Scarlet, but 'm not picky and therefore fired anyway. For the second time in six hours I failed to hit anything but a left arm. Bjorn and I then unloaded at each other, but the outcome was inconclusive. We decided to settle the deal with a duel on the roof of Cripp's court, which I lost after having been shot in both arms.
X:3_)--- reports:
Timothy mouse, despite the name, despite the picture, was actually a psycho. Therefore he machine-gunned Miffy with one of his mouse-sized machineguns. *mousesizedmaniacalsqueak*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat* Miffy was left as a multitude of mutilated morsels, so appropriately the conversation that followed was about buying glue to make repairs.
Miffy reports:
Ouch. I should have remembered Newnham now has a vermin problem...
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, there I was, avoiding being anywhere too obvious, when Newboy walked past... Again... Unarmed.
Now, twice is okay, but killing the same person three times just feels wrong, so I took a shot at her, for thwe sake of it... missed, and persued slowly, stopping for a five minute conversation, without actually shooting her.
Honour amoung murders and all that...
Burns reports:
Saw Yellow Warlock walking over Trinity Bridge. Walked up behind him. Shot him point blank range.
Duram Laddel Cham reports:
The mouse and the horse entered the crossroads slowly. The tall man with the close-cropped white hair who stepped from the shadows amongst the columns of Emma was familar to them. The mouse smoothed her skirts and sniffed, when the man said "Call me Be'lal." and moved towards them. They fell back behind a boquet of flowers. "Take the shield!" the mouse snapped, throwing a hand toward the umbrella in the hand of the horse and tugged her braid at him, but the horse hesitated. Be'lal advanced on the mouse, when the horse shouted:"No!" and came striding through the battle, his eyes fixed on him. Be'lal stepped back out of the range of the mouse's gun and said:"I thought you were neatly out of the way. No matter. You are only an annoyance. A stinging fly. A biteme. I will cage you with the others, and teach you to serve the Shadow with you puny powers." he finished with a contemptuous laugh, and raised his hand weaving water, but the thread dissipated harmlessly around the horse, who had not stopped or slowed while he spoke. He was no more than thirty paces from Be'lal, and he raised both of his hands as well. There was an instant of surprise on Be'lal's face, and he had time to scream "No!" Then a bar of orange vegetable shot from the horse's hands. Before it, Be'lal becam a shape of shimmering motes, specks dancing in the light for less than a heartbeat, flecks consumed before his cry faded.
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
Trotting along towards Emma, a wild vision loomed before us. The mouse squeaked, and so our little menagerie hid from the evil demon. finding refuge in a herbaceous oasis, we split. I pawed the ground mightily, whinnied, raised my shield, and charged as the mouse squeaked with glee......and the demon fell beneath a equine carrot of vengeance.
X:3_)--- reports:
They sought it with Thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap.
(we were betrayed in corpus, and alone in queens. heavens knows what the guy who sequenced the staircases was on...) at last we espied our Snark,)
but the snark was a Boojum, you see...
(we fought him with flowers, we fought him with shields we were routed and disparate we were well aware that a Bjoern never yields; so the horse wasted him with a carrot.)
Once we'd killed the psycho, we decided to BE the psychos... Firstly, following the adventures of Lord Havarti, he with the Sword Silver Sinister on Black and Green Ruptured Catseye on a field of Red on his shield, and a thimble for a greathelm,the Madmouse massacred some nice murderers...
Gaynor Barrett was sitting on a chair, pistol in hand about to emerge on a murderous cause, when in rode the Outlaw Mouselord and his band firing many quarrels with their paws.
X:3_)--- reports:
Tim Hinton was the next to fall to the Mouse-lord's fire; his corpse kindly unfeathered himself and returned my darts :) House Havarti gratefully reloaded and then bumped into the Umpire, a-buying some juggling clubs as the mouse-host departs...
SHARK reports:
Yesterday I visited the abode of Chris Rice and decided to ask for Pete hoping his room mate would be so called I said I wanted to play football and asked if Chris was in this chap said he wasn't and didn't seem security concious so I left.
Today I went back and shot at a guy who opened the door and wasn't the other but the gun failed. It would seem that the replacement ammo my old accomplice (and current non player) provided me with was dud!! he said he lost his gun before he got chance. Anyway this guy didn't shoot back on realisation of this so i miraculously survived and rectified the ummm problem - I had at least three incidents where I came close to combat and thought my opponents lucky when each time it was me- trust no1
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Thinking I might turn this into a regular habit around meal times, I once again neutralised Ug Gug, this time during his dinner. Since he was facing the wall, sneaking up to him and blasting a bullet in his neck was rather unchallenging.
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
I stalked his room.... I hunted the Blue boar all over Curio court (or something like that).
Then, as I prepared to canter home, who should I see but my enemy, none other than the dangerous revolutionary who threatens the core values of our society and equestrianism down to its very hooves.
So, to quote someone else, I waved my band gun auspiciously in the air and shot him in the back. A horse made a man look sheepish!
Krimson reports:
After the four-hour interruption of my stalking at John's I decided to pay Chris Rice a visit. The thingy in the staircase said that Chris was in while his roommate was out; a good omen. I entered their unlocked room, finding one boy and one girl. The boy asserted that he was Chris' roommate but I shot him in case he was lying.
Krimson reports:
I got bored with waiting for Balaam's Ass and went home. On my way I was greeted by Mr Nokes with a friendly "Hello" and a not-so-friendly knife in the back.
Insincere Dave reports:
Beakachu the cursed. Beakachu the weak. Beakachu the fallen. His new name is definitely funnier!!
I was on a trip to return an holy Bowe-tie, and to kill Rembrandt Q. Einstein. Although he had once been an adequate assistant, his arrogance and Greede had led him into the jaws of squalor, and he was no longer fit to be a Gentleman of the Shoe-horne. Doing the Bumps was definitely a legitimate excuse!!
Waiting on the stairs, two plump fellowes (one was an Woman) trotted past. It's what's on the inside that counts!! They looked at me with amusement on their over-stuffed faces. I should have slain them right there, but I feared my unholy water would have little effect on them. Yet I realised my folly when R.Q. Einstein hobbled toward his window; the dumpling-men alerted him and I feared all was lost. I'm sure they were only being friendly neighbours!!
Einstein squealed, "Don't bother, Matthew." That almost convinced me not to shoot him!! Then I shot him.
When Beakachu tried to escape his duty, And feast on the filth of his Neste, A stout-hearted Shoe-horne, be-haloed in Beauty Speared straight through his black-hearted chest. I am the best.
Rembrandt Q. Einstein reports:
'pon returning to my nest I was alerted by two kindly Dumpling-Warriors to the presence of a greedy blackguard skulking by the toy-let. I put on my magical shoes of wisdom and ventured bravely forth. To my relief the rogue turned out to be my dull-brained, wantwit servant who was returning my beautiful Bowe-Tie. I bade him good morrow and pounced t'ward my door. Judas! the dolthead ran me through with a hideous shoe-horne launcher. Had my wondrous shoes failed me yet again? I looked down only to find that the lackwit had stolen my magical slippers and replaced them with the sandals of ignorance. The Shame!
Insincere Dave, The naughty Knave, Greedily slew, Poor Rembrandt Q.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Just got killed by Ed Wallace while walking through Trinity. He just happened to be behind me, and needed only 1 shot of a rubber band gun while going up the steps towards hall from Nevile's Court. Joy was unconfined.
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
As a patron of culture, I was enjoying a lovely evening of entertainment at Trinity College. Some exquisite Vaughan Williams....some lovely Mozart...an amusing, if trite, little operetta. How obliging of my old associate Mr. Chow to come along during the interval, presenting such a tempting target, and making my evening's entertainment more worthwhile to savour.
Burns reports:
Hark at that at the door; was it someone trying to force entry ? And did they then flee underneath my window ? And did I, or did I not, wait like a sniper and shoot them ? Yep !
The Society Curio reports:
I would also add that, regrettably, at least one member of the public, who has nothing to do with our society (probably two), was killed in the spray of bullets from Burns' window. Their last words were "is it raining?"
Our Man in Havana reports:
Pattern recognition software on the Emma CCTV system running well. Ug Gug detected leaving South Court, destination Mr Faithful's Uncle's room. Upon reaching this room, Ug Gug waited patiently, armed with a knife (origin unknown). However his presence was known and what life still left in him dispatched with two close range shotgun blasts to the torso. Last words of the unlucky assassin: "Twat!"
JJ. The Musical Ass Factory Foundation reports:
Knowing that I would see Burns at the Trinity stomp this morning, I cunningly planned my kill. Most cunning of all was that I actually got a weapon. I didn't show up at the first half of the stomp, to avoid the chance that he might kill me when I wasn't looking, but I harried them midships as they came back through great gate, and tried to squirm my way to my prey. However, he was now behind me and would surely notice me coming for him, so I waited until afterwards, at the crew photo. As he sat lazily upon a plastic chair, I gleefully stabbed him in the ribcage.
Burns reports:
As I sat peacefully wondering at the beauty of the wren library someone stabbed me. Is there no justice in the world ?!
JJ. The Musical Ass Factory Foundation reports:
Skulking silently through the fetid corridors of Blue Boar, I spied the door behind which The Society Curio resides. Knife in hand, I grabbed his door handle and burst in. Well, I would have if it wasn't locked. "Curses", I thought and was about to leave when I heard him trying to open the door from the inside and get me, so I skilfully used the narrowness and proximity of the corridor to escape.
KKKKKKK reports:
At 11:25 I received the information that Dan Seymour with a big bag was crossing Parker's Piece from network of accomplices. Upon hearing this I quickly armed myself and confronted him outside Fenners. When he spotted me he turned to run and then turned around the a corner. An obvious ambush, I thought and circled wide. He had disappeared. Then I see the tree. A big tree. Big enough for Dan to hide behind. And truly, when I approach he runs again and tries to cross a road.
Now things started to go wrong for him: He was able to cross the first lane, but the traffic set in and he was stuck in the middle with little space for dodging. This proved fatal. KillKillKillKillKillKillKill
Krimson reports:
Since I am a communsit it is not really in my nature to call for increased policing, but when an honest hard-working assassins cannot even queue for a cash mashine without getting shot in the back I think it has gone to far. More state repression!
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
How kind of my scarlet foe to be waiting nonchalantly for a cash machine as I walked past.
Two quick shots to the back: How Darn Smooth is that?
KKKKKKK reports:
Moving towards the city centre, I suddenly spotted someone walking in the opposite direction with a girl on his arm... He seemed familiar... What was his name again? Tom Garnett? Mmmmhh...maybe...maybe not... Let's just follow him for a while.
First they went to Emma, then they turned back and stopped at a cash machine. Let's see whether it's him. I shout:'Tom!?' and flick a rubber band past him. He turns and tries to draw something from his pocket. So it is him, I think and shoot him into the left arm, left leg, left half of the chest, left half of the stomach...
The Incredible Sulk reports:
It is as reported... There I was, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, a heavily armed psycopath starts shooting me...
Ironically, if I hadn't had my pocket zipped up, I could have out-drawn him... (Ask Krimson about this...)
Ahhh... well. I'm not walking around noncholantly any more...
Frightfully Vicious reports:
David Knipe tried to shoot me with a water pistol in Great Court. Alas, he was thwarted by the fact that even assassins aren't allowed on the grass. Remaining diametrically opposite me across a large patch of grass, he chased me in vain, while I did a bit of practice for the Great Court Run. Escape: dead easy.
Ha-Lan Kwin of the Chinese Triad reports:
No sign of horse or mouse,
So I go to castle house,
But Harland Quinn,
Annoyingly is not in.
Then I hear his laughter,
And so I follow after.
He carries a cask of beer,
But no weapons, oh dear.
So I shoot in his stead,
He once was furry and blue,
But since my aim was true,
He now is perforated and red.
Harland Quinn reports:
Having got up at twelve after Robinson Ball, I made my way to the pub, Where I was handed a cask of beer, From my friend who I know through a mud.
We made our way back to the house where I live, To drop off the beer in my room, But who should I find, but Ha-Lan Kwin, Plotting my downfall and doom.
He approached and shot me with his six-barreled gun, Defenseless I was killed there and then, In my grave I shall rest until the beer is drunk, But when it's finished... well, just wait till then.
Love and Huggles and Britney Spears' knees, Harland Quinn
The Society Curio reports:
Sources had confirmed that Frightfully Vicious was at a supervision at 4pm today. Adopting an optimal sniper position on the way back to his room, I lay in wait. By 5.25 he had not arrived. This, combined with the discovery of my whereabouts by Insincere Dave and resulting concern for my own health, forced me to leave at 5.30. I have no idea why he wasn't there. I await your report, Frightfully Vicious.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I had absolutely no idea that David would get his hands dirty and try to kill me after my supervision. In fact, I'm puzzled as to what happened, since I got back at about 4.55. By the sound of it, he had cooked up a cunning plan, but in the end, everything in the garden was lovely.
Our Ass in Nirvana reports:
Lloyd returned to find a hasty trench position had been built across his carpet Our Ass in Nirvana then just had to listen for the famous Sidney Floorboards. and open fire at chest-height from behind cover.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
I found myself at the same social gathering as Spice, who seems to have forgotton that we are both playing...
To be on the safe side, I shot her first. Pellet to the stomach at 4 feet.
Our Ass in Nirvana reports:
Our Ass turned up respectfully and played the gormless fool by walking past the Eliminator's empty open door. He then returned and asked where Dan was, braying courteously that it was about the First Aid that he had come. But Dan was in the shower, and suspicion arose that our Ass might be there in fact to Create a Need for First Aid, and from then on things went downhill, for which our Joss-stick-bearing Donkey apologizes...
Our Ass opened fire with a Luger over the shower-curtain, but the Eliminator was adept at holding the curtain closed tight. Our Ass was terrified that the Eliminator was now armed with the spent bands, so he had to produce...
The Mankiest, Greyest, most Rancid Carrot mayhaps even from the Caius Halls of Yore, labelled #3 Throwing Knife, and pinned the Eliminator, by the shoulder, to the shower wall.
Then our Ass afforded to draw a heavy machinegun and blasted often behind the curtain, till the Eliminator admitted being Sufficiently Dead.
Note: on a more serious side, I keep my carrots in a humid environment to make them safer, and they were merely purchased on Wednesday.
Umpire reports:
*wonders*
Was it a good thing to licence certain vegetables ? They seem overwhelmingly popular. Please consult me before using any novelty vegetables. ;-)
Rumours even mention certain mafias who have been stocking Sainsburys'economy class II carrots for months...
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Having run away from me at top speed twice in succession (I wonder why...), Ug Gug did exactly the opposite the next time we met (about 10 min later): after my dinner he confronted me, wielding a knife and a semi-rolled-up newspaper (a cosh?), I greeted him friendly, he slowly approached me, but I was faster with my gun than he with his close-range weapons, and I shot him once more (at dinner time). A brief argument followed, regarding whether bullets can be blocked with a cosh and if a newspaper that hasn't got 'shield' written on it, but perhaps somewhere printed inside it, is able to stop cap gun shots, which ended with him considered dead and me being clubbed over the head by his corpse.
Ha-Lan Kwin of the Chinese Triad reports:
Our man in Havana (that's at least where he was supposed to be), abandonned his post. Our organisation does not tolerate such behaviour. Therefore the perpetrator was executed when he left his staircase. We even refrained from shooting him with the grenade launcher, because after using a revolver instead we were able to sew up the hole in his dinner jacket and sell it to a second-hand shop.
The Society Curio reports:
On my way back from dinner, I bumped into my good friend/merciless killer Dan. Once I had drawn my weapon, he became quite sporting and let me finish him without undue fuss (to avoid getting bullet holes in his jacket).
Insincere Dave reports:
That's certainly the most interesting kill report I've ever seen!!!
Lieutenent Leek reports:
Vigilant neighbours aren't always a good thing, as Mr. Nordström can testify.
Whilst lurking atop his stairwell, I was confronted by no less than three of the beasties, each of whom I carefully tortured for information regarding my target's whereabouts. Enjoyable though the process was, it yielded not one iota of pertinent information, in spite of which I let the neighbours go free.
After a further lurk of a few minutes, I heard the tramp-tramp of boots a-tramping up the stairs, and readied myself - at which time, the remains of one of the neighbours spake to Mr. Nordström.
"There were some people looking for you earlier," warned the voice, and my target, being the paragon of paranoia that he is, immediately stopped and turned to interrogate the informant. Unfortunately, this resulted in his top of his head establishing a position in line-of-sight of my trusty firearm. Making appropriate use of his handy distraction, I did, of course, shoot him.
So, let that be a lesson to all assassins - never pay attention to your neighbours, especially when they try to warm you about suspicious strangers. Remember this, and you are sure to lead a long life.
Krimson reports:
Knowing that the top of my staircase presents a nice ambush spot I was being very cautious and watched it carefully as I moved up the stairs. Then a neighbour distracted me with a warning that someone had been asking around for me. My attention was immediately returned to the top of the staircase as Lt Leek emerged and gunned me down.
Insincere Dave reports:
Someone knocked up-on my door. Who could it be? 'Twas Ed Nokes and his foolish sidekick, Bjorn Holzhauer (or is that t'other way round?). I don't know how they came up with that plan!!
They also tried to throw things through my window, but they were rubbish and I was great. I'm sure you'll get me next time guys!!
Ha-Lan Kwin of the Chinese Triad reports:
He cowardly refused to fight. I really can't understand why; there was only two of us and our guns were only twice the size of his.
Teddy the terrorist reports:
I'd swear those carrots have become sentient entities during their time in Björn's pocket... they certainly seemed to have ideas of their own with regard to their own trajectory.
PS: You got it the correct way round.
Lieutenent Leek reports:
Ambulance-man Quinn seemed in dire need of a Medicine man when I last saw him... or at least those bits of him that were recognisably him.
Lieutenent Leek reports:
I knew that Frances would approve if I redecorated her room in tasteful shades of purplely-reddy-blue gunk, especially if I let her provide the, ahem, dyeing agent.
Trilobite reports:
Chris Bull was killed by me, Trilobite, on his failed mission to my house. He did not accept a pancake either.
Professor Calculus reports:
Having been drinking rather heavily all day, a frontal assault of Clare Colony seemed somewhat less daunting by the evening and I decided to take out Trilobite. Unfortunately my alcohol consumption caused me to believe what her housemates told me ("she's upstairs...keep going...") leading to a text-book ambush in which I was splattered across the wall. Be warned all, that house is a citadel!
And whilst I didn't get a pancake, I did get some wine. As if I needed any more.
The Man Who Was Thursday reports:
Ug Gug came into the bar, I killed him again, how boring! He fell over the steps, how incompetent. I apologise for my death earlier, but I was weaponless then. Bjoern, I will retaliate, to be sure.
Esau The Dust Puppy reports:
Hmmm. Captain Carrot appears to be on a patrol of righteousness, attempting to inhume all those assassins not yet fully licensed with the Assassins' Guild... or at least those who haven't yet proved their virtue by annulling an opponent. Both myself and the Lady Margolotta - er, I mean the Lady Melcocha fell into this category. I fell. She is yet to fall. The combination of Robinson College security and ingenious use of location both safeguarded her, and had it been anyone other than the Emeritus PhD (Paranoid Hardened Deathmaster) that is J Doe, would have allowed her to annihilate the intruder on their attempted departure...
Oh, and to all those assassins wanting to take the life of a poor innocent Dust Puppy like myself: honesty compels me to admit that, as you may have noticed, I'm never in my room in 3 Sylvester Road, seeing as I do all my work, play and email from room N12, Robinson College. Though it's a most un-Dust-Puppy like cliche, I think it's appropriate: "Come an' have a go if ye think ye're canine enough!"
Captain Carrot reports:
For my hundredth career kill I decided to select somebody nice, so I went to Robinson. I was not disappointed as I immediately saw the Dust Puppy entering N staircase. He didn't see me :) I did K1, back, Q1 then the slightly risky front N1, deposited my watergun and sachet of bombs, N2, N3 to find an open front door to N12/13 containing an open bathroom, and a closed toilet containing the Dust Puppy. I'd hope the Dust Puppy wouldn't see me and open la Mujer de la Melcocha's door. But he did see me so I shot him in the heart with my Luger (I AM Captain Carrot, but my methods are not restricted to flinging root vegetables)...
Captain Carrot reports:
Since Angela's door was locked, I used the common hallway door to take cover, and selected a position where I couldn't be cut down by a lightsabre, remembering one of my good teachers, Antichrist, J.J.
I then tried to shoot la Mujer de la Melcocha (que caray es una Melcocha?)in the feet through the wide bottom gap of the door, but she has had many good teachers too, and good instincts to boot, so she was standing on the bed, knowing full well that this term that would be the only move I could try...
Captain Carrot reports:
The reason I meant to shoot her in the feet was so that she couldn't cut off my escape with the CPS 1000 I presented to her before the Lent 2000 duel... Sure enough, she was on her balcony brandishing it when I emerged from N0. Indeed, most people would have emerged through N1 and been shot, or through N0 and been shot, but I bore a Shield and immediately put down my useless gun (given the 3-storey advantage, and reverted to my true nature...
I produced 2 #3 throwing-knives, represented by repugnant, once-orange root veggies, and danced back from her first shot.
I was quite proud to see her first shot was deliberately short, but I had already also selected my worst carrots and threw short too.
Angela shot long, and I guarded with the umbrella, rotating and producing a #5 throwing-knife with the adequate range.
But she went in and the Zombie Puppy took her place to watch my movements. Fearing an ambush with mobile phones, and knowing the rear entrance to be closed, I retreate flat to the bikesheds and then took up a sniping position near the Adams road exits which she would no doubt know well. As the time pressed, I feared cavalry attack, not being able to recall whether Angela can fire heavy calibre at high speed on her bike. So I adopted a careful position near mem court, when I noticed a black-clad figure with a golfing umbrella cutting off my retreat...
English Imagination reports:
Nice, gloomy Sunday morning. Yours truly is making her way through the rain towards Clare, looking forward to magnificent breakfast, good company and getting well pissed, feeling philosophical and thinking this and that, of life and love and repentance and nothing in particular. The street was pleasantly empty, save for one drenched guy in the distance... whom I spectacularly failed to identify as the notorious psychopath Captain Carrot until he was only a few metres away. Unarmed save for a shield and a knife and weighed down by three bottles of wine in my bag, I put up some token resistance before getting my ass kicked all the way to Z'Ha'Dum and back. J Doe then continued to flee from Angela and I gravitated towards my breakfast in Clare twice as wet as before.
the Man with the Uranium Cranium reports:
It was Miffy, who charged with huge shield and knife, but our loose nuclear warhead sidestepped as if a Flanker was trying to Upend him After a Catch.
This made our Cerium-containing Comrade dangerously hot, triggering the cooling system, which at the second attempt rounded the umbrella.
Our Plutonium-producing pistolier regrets having to make off so quickly after this, pleading that he was being chased by "a woman with a very large gun"...
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
As I took my horsey path through Queens, I thought'd I'd pay spice a visit.
Trotted up to her room, drew my weapon, opened the door..... .....and found a bloke there, who definitely wasn't Sally, and apologized politely for not being so.
I didn't shoot him.
Insincere Dave reports:
Hey guys!! I just perforated an innocent bystander! He thought it was real funny!!!
Insincere Dave reports:
M.F. Uncle was yammering with some rogue outside his staircase. He drew his Beretta when he saw me, but fiery Shoe-horne-based death was already on its way. His record of 4-0 was definitely justified!!
Telemachus reports:
...Telemachus dived out of his door, blasting with his ray gun catching the SHARK full in the upper chest...a self-satisfied sea eagle was observed flying due south.
Nasty Knickers reports:
Dear readers, I give you Burrel's Field: Enjoy the scenery, get lost in a maze of twisty little passages (all alike), marvel at the Neo-Brezhnevian buildings, discover the secret place where Trinity stores its manure [1] and bribe/lie/crawl/leap your way through security gates! Savour the taste of adventure!
To be honest with you, it was starting to get a bit old upon my third visit. Fortunately Yellow Warlock was in this time and got splattered by a Mary Poppins model water pistol along with his lunch.
[1] No, I'm not talking about the inhabitants, Trinitarians as they may be...
The Society Curio reports:
Take that back, or I shall be forced to defend the honour of my College in arms (and I would point out that there are no less than seven assassins here in Trinity).
Nasty Knickers reports:
Ooh, a Trinity mafia at my door - now *that's* a scary thought. =)
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Why would you want to defend Trinity? Its the suckiest college in suck-history.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Trying to economise on my 'non-productive' time caused Ug Gug to die again, 2 minutes after I had respawned. Oh, and he was just getting some food.
SHARK reports:
My revenge came quicker than I thought as on my way to pizza hut I spied my executioner and hid behind my friend in front. as they passed I dived out and shot him and his accomplice
SHARK reports:
Wrong place wrong time
Captain Chaos reports:
Seeing as I didn't have time for anything else today, I thought I might just as well report the one attempt I made, namely visiting Alex and Angela. When I approached, Alex was standing on the balcony well in CPS range, but the mobile phone he was using suggested the use of non-water weapons, especially orange ones... Sadly (he might consider it otherwise those) he saw me in time and hence avoided my projectiles. Then he asked me to wait a moment so that he could finish his phone call before coming down to me. I happily complied and eventually Alex and Angela emerged from their staircase. However I got into a standoff with Alex and noticed that Angela had disappeared. Mmmmh, this seems suspicious. Hence I quickly abandonned my position and tried to emerge behind Alex but he had retreated back into the room. As I had other (more urgent) matters to attend to, I left. I'll try to have more time next time.
Insincere Dave reports:
Starting at around 10:00, A. Bumchester and I (with the late addition of the kindly Rembrandt Q. Einstein) attempted to apprehend approximately 12 cads over the course of 4 hours and 5 colleges. How many were in? None! It was super-fun!!!!!!!!
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Having been informed of Ug Gug's location by a trusty member of my Personal Spy Network tm, I proceeded to testfire my new gun at the wall behind him. Unfortunately (for him), he died in the process. His own fault, really, for not having a bullet proof chest.
Magic Robot Monstor Monstor reports:
I got a bit pissed and accidentally shot myself in the face.
The Society Curio reports:
I would remind you of rule 1.2.10: "Suicides are NOT allowed."
Insincere Dave reports:
I would remind you of Super Face 83: "David Chaplin isn't really playing."
Overkill, PhD (retired) reports:
i went to Sheila 2 hours early, disguised as a Goth, with long brown hair and fairly full make-up. i then took a suitable sniping position to ambush my potential ambushers. To stay out of sight, a periscope was built out of a wall-mirror and a highly-polished spoon. Sadly, Bjoern and Ed did not turn up, nor did any other known sassin walk past that part of Trinity street... then my professional Simon Ford impersonator established radio contact with me to confirm H staircase was free of miscreants, allowing me to attend unmolested 'xcept for my wig.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Perhaps an interesting question is why you wrote "Bjoern" instead of "Björn". Why not just call yourself Edvard Andersquiggle?
pieman reports:
Simple Simon met a pieman,
Going to the fair;
(I met Simon outside Emma)
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Let me taste your ware."
(He was really asking for it)
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first your penny,"
(I thought:"He's got a lot of points."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Indeed, I have not any."
(And he didn't have any weapons)
pieman reports:
Having just shot Simon, I realised that nobody might kill Ug Gug today and that of course would break a tradition that is nearly as old as a week. There was only one solution to this DialEmma and so I shot the poor fellow myself.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Hey, are you calling me incompetent or something? I've taken care of Ug Gug since the start of this game, and would not have failed to do so today!
Umpire reports:
I wouldn't taunt Björn... Besides it is high time that Ug Gug takes his revenge on Mrs Faithful's Uncle's Insincere Lieutenant's Messiah's Darn Smooth Magic Ass's Professor's Incredibly Greasy Spicy Krimson Corpse's Frightfully Vicious Nasty Yellow Knickers ... de la Melcocha.
The record is 13 deaths in May Week, and this required substantial efforts on the victim's part. :)
Lieutenent Leek reports:
My magic intuition informed me that the Lilac Lady wished not to be disurbed, and so I took steps to ensure she would not be woken for another four hours.
Rembrandt Q. Einstein reports:
Rub. I got shot. Was watching T.V in my room when I heard toilets flushing in the distance. I thought nothing of it till some merry-andrew burst into my soiled abode a shot me twelvety times in the head. Naughty. Very naughty indeed.
The Society Curio reports:
While in the dining queue, a routine check revealed the presence of a fellow assassin, namely SHARK. Seeming unaware of my presence, he happily continued to consume whatever it is they feed us, little knowing that it would be his last meal. I left my feeding trough to attend to this important matter. Swiftly and silently moving up behind him, I put a bullet in the back of his head at point blank range.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
So far, I've been frightfully virtuous on the inside and frightfully vicious on the outside, having made no effort at all to look for people. But not any more. Trinity Hall being just next door, I thought I'd pay a visit to that good old chap, James Wright. He opened the door when I knocked, and I mangled his corpse with a water pistol, so to say.
Rembrandt Q. Einstein reports:
A mischievous mooncalf thought t'would be rather grand if he used my putrid carcasse for target practice. The fiend then proceeded to utilise my corpse as some kind of puppet in series of unholy suicide missions. Not really. That was a lie.
Overkill reports:
i went round to Paivi's posing as a prospective student in her subject. she wasn't in. Newnham College is a girl's college, reknown for its oriental studies, so it happens that Paivi was aproached in the garden by a short, portly Arabesque girl, who nonchalently shot her 12 times with a short-barrel bandgun...
Nasty Knickers reports:
Oh, the choices today... Either I could have stayed inside or went to see a JCR/SCR rounders match in the gardens, get lots of pimms and also get nuked by the enthusiastic Man with the Uranium Cranium. Well, life is too short anyway and the lure of Pimms was too great, so I went and promptly got shot whilst concentrating on capturing the match on video.
Oh and Ed, you and your cunning disguise now both feature on the Newnham Target Schools video, seen by hundreds of schoolgirls all over Northern England. Whether this will make them want to come to Newnham is anyone's guess. ;)
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
I think that killing while in drag, and on video, deserves a style bonus.
Lieutenent Leek reports:
Looking for some action, Messieur Cwaazy and I mosied on down to Robinson in search of Angela and Alex... but no one was apparently in. Just as we gave up hope of anything happening, the Dust Puppy appeared, and was, on averaging over all trajectories, the target of many thrown carrots. Particularly impressive was the one that managed to fly almost perpendicular to the Björn-Churchill vector. I myself was not feeling in a root vegetable-like mode (whomever is?) and so decided upon a good, old-fashioned water-bomb, which did its business sufficiently well to disable the Dust Puppy... or so I thought. In fact, as I ran across the lower level in order to circle around the defenders, the puppy managed to drag himself to the balustrade and squeeze of a rubber band, which by some freak of energy-momentum consideration apparently scattered most of my noggin over the courtyard (though the rest of my body didn't realise that I was dead for another ten yards). Vexingly, it seemed I had managed only to cripple one of the baby dog's four feet, an all too fatal mistake.
Captain Chaos reports:
O Lieutenent! my Lieutenent! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Lieutenent lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Captain Chaos reports:
Chaos reigned in Robinson, Lieutenent Leek had chopped of the Dust Puppy's foot, who in turn had cut down my trustworthy Lieutenent. In outrage I threw a water bomb which hit Esau's other leg. His only protection now was Angela with her CPS on the balcony above him, who kept me from coming close. He avoided my projectiles, so I decided to use my grenade launcher from the other side of the trench and even though Alex dropped himself to the floor it got him.
SHARK reports:
Having trailed this suspect through the college on an earlier run and had to put up with playing playstation while she revealed her identity on this trip I saw her emerge from a doorway with two large weapons as this was as close to an invitation as i'll ever get I shot her in the back while she was searching for her target but I was too preoccupied to put up any resistence,
Captain Chaos reports:
After killing Alex I sprinted to the corpse of Lieutenent Leek, who was lying sprawled out in the court. I grabbed his bag of supplies and armed myself with his equipement in addition to mine, then I set out to find Angela, who had disappeared from the balcony.
I discovered her when she tried to sneak around me through a staircase and she disappeared again. What would she try now? Go around me on the far side? Try to approach from below?
Then suddenly I heard a loud BANG and saw her falling to the floor in the court below. Before I realised that she had just been shot, I perforated her as well. At which moment her killer sprinted away into N staircase.
Captain Chaos reports:
Angela's killer didn't seem to be well armed and unsurprisingly tried to leg it. However my superior position and weaponary made this attempt futile and he was severely soaked.
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
Mr. Smooth was at the Carnival.
Standing in the queue for some champagne, I noticed a grinning face out of the corner of my eye. The vision was unmistakeable, so I drew my trusty herbal blade, advanced, and in a simple way plunged it into Matt's chest.
Mr. Laycock had plenty of time to react: he claims to be too lazy.
Now, what I call too lazy is not going to your own college May Ball so that a journeyman assassin can kill you there. Hey, Mr. Garnett!!!
and who on earth is Christine Clarke?
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Hey there indeed... I have to admit failing to notice you at a number of recent social events, much to my distaste... Still, give me a time and a place, and I will fail to turn up, and then attempt to ambush you as you approach.
Christine? Well, that's for me to know, and...
Actually, I really ought to kill her again.
The Society Curio reports:
While enjoying the fine alcoholic beverages of Trinity May Ball, I bumped into David Chow. For what reason I can only imagine, he said "I am unarmed". "I'm not", replied I, and mercilessly stabbed him in the chest.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I'd already foolishly told the Society Curio that I would be going to the ball unarmed. Seeing my jolly assassin around the oyster bar, my Pavlovian reaction was to tell him again, and to freeze while I fell into the jaws of vice.
The Society Curio reports:
He was just standing there, right in front of me. How could I not have stabbed him?
The Society Curio reports:
In a momentary lapse of sanity, Frightfully Vicious informed me that his previous death had expired and asked that it be renewed. Always happy to oblige, I killed him again. I love this May Ball!
Frightfully Vicious reports:
After my death by the oyster bar, I went to the casino and realised that the probability lectures were all wrong when I lost everything through betting boldly to avoid WLLN. Behaving like a simple-minded natural scientist, I disclosed my identity to another assassin, who hopefully won't remember who I am. Meeting the Society Curio later on, I told him that I was alive again. The previous time, he stabbed me, and similARly, I met the same fate.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
That's just crap. You could have at least TRIED to avoid him.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Righto.
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
While at another May Ball not a million miles from Jesus, Mr. Smooth spotted a familiar figure on the dancefloor.
He hastily waited until the end of the dance, then found a rubber band and shot Spice in the back.
(I killed her very courteously, and wished her well in the afterlife, consoling her with the thought that she would rise again soon)
Spice's remains were cleared away by the Trinity authorities and the dances continued.
(And on a familiar note, why did none of the Trinity assassins I know turn up at the appropriate point of their Ball so I could shoot them? Young people are so inconsiderate these days.)
Insincere Dave reports:
Possibly because it would have been £80 to see ASH and JASON DONOVAN. I would rather scrape my own eyeballs out with a spoon than see Ash or Jason Donovan.
The Society Curio reports:
I might ask you the same thing.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I already turned up for you during the interval of the concert in Trinity on Friday. That was not meant to be a trailer for later thrills.
Insincere Dave reports:
Super Report 41
I was lying half-asleep in bed, with the door unlocked. I have been killed twice before in these exact circumstances. Can you guess what happened when E. Wallace vudely burst in with an Beane-cannon? I certainly can't!!
There was also a Special Mystery Guest (J Doe). He was completely crucial to the mission!!!!
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
The discontinuity of my second derivative at the origin was giving me problems again, so I decided to calm my troubled oscillations with a spot of killing. Neither frightfully vicious or frightfully curious were in, so imagine my sinusoidal delight when I found the insincere one's door accessible. Adopting a beefy masculine method of approach, I swiftly entered the inner sanctum of bennettitude, drawing my trusty weapon and creating some discontinuities in Dave.
Now my garden is rosy.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Stop pretending to be Hallard Croft, you didn't even buy a T-Shirt from me (or maybe you did and I forgot)
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
No one was pretending to be Hallard Croft.
I am merely a pathological function.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Good old x²sin(1/x) is a jolly kinky function, I say.
GG the Harmonious Horse Handworkshop Headquarters reports:
Sally hasn't been much in recently, but she was jumped today outside Corpus by our Hay-eating Harpsichordist hunting-squad.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Deciding to do a variation on the bus theme, a steamroller was quickly constructed from assorted bits and pieces. It was properly labelled steamroller, had a smiling face painted on the front and a driver looking out of it. Of course, I had to ensure that it was in working order. Thus I was driving my steamroller around Q-staircase for a bit, when I came across The Man Who Was Thursday's room. As I'd never been on the third floor with a steamroller before, I decided to let him know. I knocked on his unlocked door and was promptly invited in. Increasing my speed as I drove through his lair, accompanied by loud driving noises, I spotted him sitting on his sofa with his girlfriend. He froze in horror (or laughter?) as my vehicle accelerated towards him, and moments later he, and half of his sofa, were rather, how should I put it, well, flat. I then went for a lap of honour round his room, making loud driving noises, to the amusement of flattened Thursday and his girlfriend, before I drove back home.
The Grocer reports:
I would indubitably vote this some style points.
Ancalagon the Black reports:
Some of us were being evil outside Games Workshop. I wonder why.
But the intended victim did not appear.
Instead, Ancalagon the Black idly slid a claw into Gaynor's ribcage...
Ancalagon the Black reports:
Tim Hinton was then consumed by extensive dragonfyre as he fought from behind a car.
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
Grrrrr. I was sure I'd killed Hinton , but apparently only hit him in the shoulder.
Next time I shall use a rapier and be rather unpleasant.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Ug Gug gone :( Messiah still here :) Now Messiah is dead =)
Being a nice uncle, I afterwards emptied another few dihydrogen-monoxide bullets into his hair to help him ensure that it was in top condition and would stay that way for the rest of the evening.
The Society Curio reports:
While on my way from dinner to my room, I observed, through the window of the bar as I passed, my fellow-mathmo Juan Ramiresh of Shpain. Ah, I thought, fresh blood. It transpired that he had been too amateur to notice my passing. Safely out of sight, I pulled my water pistol out of my pocket, then leapt in front of the window to shower him with bullets. He didn't even know what hit him.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
A more accurate report is that I was playing (and winning) on the Trinity bar's quizhampton, assisted by the two barmen, and was most alarmed when my concentration was broken by a mediocre amount of water. In defence of my lack of preparation, I might add that I've only ever seen The Society Curio once in the bar before, and neither Burns nor Frightfully Vicious frequent it, so I ruled out the possibility of death there.
Esau The Dust Puppy reports:
Whilst waiting in the queue outside Queens' May Ball, who should happen to wend his poetic way by, but one Harland of the Quinns. Friendly greetings were exchanged. Then a hurried consultation with a Dust Puppy's mayballing companions on the current rules (can one make a kill in a mayball queue?) led to the conclusion that if I gave chase while they saved my space, I would no longer be in the queue. So I gave chase: the kill was swift and efficient, a bullet to the chest, with only one minor misfire impeding the slickness. But at least we laughed about it.
Jürgen Klinsman reports:
And now to the football results. There's only one game that we really care about, so lets go to the Queens' May Ball queue for the final result.
Thanks Dan. A thrilling match here tonight - of course, we'd seen the christian side displaying strongly in their previous match here with a solid 1-0 victory over the weakened Castle House United, Castle House of course missing two of their best players. Tonight they were up against Murderous Psychos Wanderers. An interesting choice of tactics by Murderous tonight, teaming their star striker Jürgen Klinsman with experienced playmaker Matthew Garrett who had previously retired. The game started quietly, with Garrett quickly moving into the Christian half. Mere seconds later, however, he'd set the field up for Klinsman and the rubber band thudded into the back of Morag Gray.
Jürgen Klinsman reports:
The Christian defence was obviously rattled - no sooner had play restarted, than Klinsman fired a band straight into the back of Angela Rayner. 2-0.
Jürgen Klinsman reports:
And we take you to the last seconds of the game now:
"There's some people in the queue! They think it's all over! It is now!"
Klinsman fired another wonderful shot, scything down Alex Churchill to rack up another point. The Christians' choice of a flat back three defence was unable to cope with the sheer power of the Psyopathic side, and they were left flat on their backs. Final score - Murderous Psychos 3, Christians 0. And back to you in the studio, Dan.
Thanks Bill. We now leave you briefly for a psychopathic interlude.
HATRICK HATRICK HATRICK HATRICK ST. PATRICK HATRICK HATRICK HATRICK
Let me quote Björn quoting Overkill quoting Harris:
"*PSYCHOTIC INTERLUDE PSYCHOTIC INTERLUDE PSYCHOTIC INTERLUDE*
PERMIT ME TO QUOTE SOME HARRIS: "THE BODY-COUNT IS NOW 18""
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Do you mean Overkill the heavy metal band?
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
While stalking past the John's May Ball queue, I was of course entirely unprepared to see the Sulk standing there juggling.
So unprepared that it took me a whole 30 seconds to nonchalantly approach and offer him my greetings and some bullets.
The Sulk looked surprised. He admitted that his clubs were licensed, but he entirely failed to offer any resistance to the March of the Horse.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, there I was, arranging free entry for John's (juggling 7-9, then free all night... :-D), when he walked up, and shot me... All very noncholant, and all that.
I suppose I should have deployed a throwing cosh or two, but my nearest fatal weapon was the other end of the queue anyway...
Professor Calculus reports:
I happened to pop in to see an old friend from school this evening, to find him conversing with some college pals. One of them casually mentioned going back to his room to fill in some "kill reports." My ears immediately pricked up, but I maintained a casual innocence. I chatted idly with my prey, and even when he asked "You're not an assassin are you?" I managed to remain nonchalant, although the pressure was mounting as he fingered his weapon. To his question "why are your hands in your pockets?" I replied "I'm just holding onto my keys." Smooth. Once he had left the room I explained the situation to my friend, whose loyalties didn't seem too divided. He went and knocked on the door of the assassin as I cocked my colt 9mm, and as he opened it I shot him twice in the chest, the first shot being a misfire. Professor Calculus strikes again.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
...Old age and treachery always overcome youth and skill...
Well at least treachery.
Godfather Ted reports:
Vengeance Bright for my dear God-daughter and other friends, by means of subtlety, nerve and a big gun.
Jürgen Klinsman reports:
How disgusting, running after people when the party has finished... I would never do such a thing...
Godfather Ted reports:
umm, i'm sure Johannes can testify to being assaulted by a certain wall-climbing Maniac (Bjoern asks himself Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeheeeheee? at this point) after innocently leaving the party...
congrats to Johannes' athleticism :)
The Grocer reports:
In a strange scene reminiscent of a previous incident, the Grocer was sitting down enjoying himself drinking champagne while a friend spilled the same liquid on his Dinner Jacket. Suddenly he found a licensed carrot in his head with an evil grin behind it.
Back to Basics reports:
A horse I'd met earlier in the evening had informed me of a sulking juggler's death, so I wasn't surprised when he wandered into the comedien's tent. I'd neglected to ask the horse the time of the juggler's death, so it turned out to be a corpse on the other end of my orange blade. The surprising lively cadaver went to fetch 'something from his bag' ready for his resurrection in 15 mins, so I wandered off to get a burger.
Back to Basics reports:
Munching my burger I checked out the drum and bass tent, looking for some friends I'd got separated from earlier. To my delight The Incredible Sulk came in, so I stabbed him again, only to be told that there was still a minute to go.
Back to Basics reports:
So I stabbed the body at 1 second intervals, his heart kicking into action for a single beat before stopping for another 4 hours.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, yes... He was the other end a few minutes ago... Why couldn't he stay still?
I wasn't that obstinate about dying, and didn't go to the effort of drawing the gun I'd just retrieved for the purposes of trying to time it correctly...
My corpse returned the gun, ad I carried on enjoying the ball... all the way up to the ironically named survivors (incidentally the only point in the entire ball which I was alive for).
The Grocer reports:
The scene: a casino. A Crowd mills around.
The Grocer notices Lloyd and walks up to him.
Grocer: Hello Jamie (stabs him in chest with knife. Lloyd gives quizzical look)
Lloyd (bleeding): Oh Dear, I'm thoroughly dead.
Friend of Lloyd (with disgust) : What? You've come to the 4th best party in the world with a carrot!? to play some damn silly game?
Lloyd (dying): It's not a carrot, it's a knife.
Grocer: it is an extremely silly game.
The Grocer reports:
The Grocer, as grocers are only occasionally wont to do, was dancing to some funky shagadelic music.
The by now extremely familiar evil grin appeared, but a particularly friendly evil grin. The Grocer examined his conscience, hid behind a nearby tall person and then neatly stepped out to place one of his wares in Basic's chest.
Poetic injustice, possibly?
You-Know-Who reports:
Welcome back for the second leg of Murderous Psychos Wanderers vs The Christians it is 6am and the crowd is already cheering. After their recent defeat by the Overkilling Mouses, the Psychos really need to score today and they seem to have substituted a new player: he's in the left field, wearing black tie and has long curly brown hair.
Wait, that's Klinsman! And now the Christian defence starts moving towards him, they seem to play one-on-one this time. Oh, Morag is fixing something about her shoes, she doesn't seem to see him approaching...
And now it is too late, he has scored!
You-Know-Who reports:
Morag seems to try to alert her team, but Alex doesn't appear to notice, moving slowly towards the opposition's striker. And before he notices, he's been tackled from the side, a rubber band hits him in the stomach and the Psychos score again.
The Grocer reports:
After impressively surviving John's May Ball, despite spending a considerable period of the Ball dead, The Grocer appropriately went for the survivor's photo. And waited. and waited. and waited.
Some of us survived the wait, a photo was taken, and several hundred tired, more or less drunk, disarrayed persons attempted to get out.
Through this press the Grocer noticed an agitated figure keeping his hand close to his jacket pocket. it was a familiar figure, so the Grocer wend his merry way through the crowd, pulled out a dagger and stabbed the Sulk in the chest.
(It should be noted that, contrary to expectations, the dagger was not in any way vegetable)
The Incredible Sulk reports:
I was prepared ofr, and expecting to meet him... Thus I was watching carefully in front of me, and had my hand on a loaded gun...
He was beside me.
You-Know-Who reports:
Angela has noticed the striker moving into the penalty area. What does she try now!? She is trying to use the crowd to get to score! She seems to have a precise copy of Matt Laycock's device, but the Psychos' defence has watched out and she falls back. Now she is consulting the rest of her team. Then the opportunity: no opposing player seems to be in the way, she and Alex rush forwards! But it was just an off-sides trap, they are cut off from their own penalty area and you know who sprints in to score. Another hatrick!
Umpire reports:
Somebody please stop this Maniac !!!
You-Know-Who reports:
One of his neighbours (well, living in Angel Court) wanted to know, what 'Overkill' is... It's when this happens to you:
*noise outside the window*
*fullsizedmaniacalsqueak*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
*MwwwhhhahahhahaMwwuuuhhhahhahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaa*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
I wasn't asking what overkill meant, I was asking if you were referring by the band of that name, due to the fact that you used a capital O.
You-Know-Who reports:
It's rather WHO Overkill is...
(Hint: look at the previous pseudonyms of J Doe)
You-Know-Who reports:
Alohomora door! Expelliarmus! Lumos!
Avada Kedavra!
A flash of green light hits the poor Lloyd on his bed... And this time I checked carefully, whether there were any ancient weird spells (like an overkill curse lingering in the corridor) protecting my intended victim.
The Society Curio reports:
Whilst enjoying a meal of curry, rice and poppadom, my eye chanced on a duo of assassins, namely Juan Ramiresh and Insincere Dave, as they queued for their meal. My initial reaction was: "I will silently wait until they are seated, then destroy them", but then I realised they could notice me sitting there and gain the element of surprise. So I boldly leapt out of my seat, gun in hand, and ran towards them. Juan ducked away from the first shot, but he could not elude my bullets for long; I turned my attention to his associate and shot him, before he replied "I'm already dead, you fool".
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
It has to be said we weren't really trying. I may have been able to draw my gun had I not been carrying a tray full of meaty badness. Does the smell of the Hall canteen count as a weapon?
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Poison gas is not allowed in this term's game.
The Society Curio reports:
Having checked the Game News at 2.30pm, I see that Insincere Dave's assertion that he was already dead was erroneous, or at least not reported. Consequently my assassination of him is valid.
Insincere Dave reports:
I didn't say I was dead, you buttfuck. I said I couldn't be bothered to play anymore. Your kill reports are super-interesting!!!
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Let us contemplate what happened a few minutes ago. I was trundling along through Great Court in a kind of spiritual way. As before, the Society Curio, or TSC to his friends, tried to get me but was thwarted by the presence of a large patch of grass.
The Society Curio reports:
We eyed each other suspiciously across a patch of grass, until I, carefully chose my moment to break into a run. Despite my natural unfitness and tendency to get stitches from long running, multiplied by the fullness of my stomach from a good meal, I managed to gain on my opponent. I followed him across Great Court and through Angel Court to the side entrance to Trinity Street, then momentarily lost sight of him. At this point I made a miscalculation, believing him to have hidden himself in Y block; subsequent searching indicated he had eluded me. Presumably he left through the gate onto Trinity Street.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
A "good meal"? Curry's the worst food in hall. Apart from maybe salmon "caprice" or the chicken with bacon thing they sometimes. Or the mysterious things which they soup up.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Met Messiah at lunch today when he suggested that he should donate some of his points to me. An offer I could not possibly refuse!!
Krimson reports:
The Society Curio and I were peacefully strolling in Trinity when we suddenly encountered Frightfully Vicious. He ran for it and then turned around with a gun, but I had already pulled out my gun in the pursuit and I shot him repeatedly before he could hit me. (At least that is what we agreed had happened in the confusion)
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Death number N, where N is 5.
I'm just entering Great Court after reporting the kinky attempt to kill me by TSC, when I bump into him again, with Krimson. I run away, while reaching into my pocket for my happy water pistol. Turning round, I fire and hit Krimson, while TSC stands and watches. There was uncertainty as to who had hit who first, so I thought "let's be generous" and conceded that I was dead. So I'm now temporarily in what infinity is to an analyst.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Popped over to kill Newboy again, She's finally back from popping home for a few days, so...
Knocked on door, said 'Hi', chatted for a bit, pulled gun from waistband of shorts, shot her, chatted more, left...
The Society Curio reports:
While browsing the shelves of the arms shop on Bridge Street, I came across two strangers who also seemed to be shopping for firearms (or is it my overactive imagination?) I returned the Cap Gun With Silencer I was looking at to its shelf (cap gun with silencer? What is the point of that?) and picked up a more innocent item. Luckily they didn't seem to notice me. I decided to leave my search for weapons until later and instead follow these people, hopefully to one of their rooms so I could positively identify them as an assassin. They led me to Paperchase (I think that was the name of the shop) and thence to Woolworths. It was while spying their exit from Woolworths from the door to Boots that I came across my twice victim, Juan Ramiresh of Spain, who joined me in my pursuit. We briefly lost them in Lion Yard, but then, as chance would have it, they walked right past us. Next they went to a shop on St Andrews St (I forget what it was called). Becuase this shop has multiple exits, we decided to break from our established tactic of waiting outside until they got out; we followed them inside. The fact that it seemed to be a Shop For Women's Stuff with two guys wandering around it must have aroused some suspicion, not only from trained assassins. Our indoorsness made it more difficult to elude their watchfulness, but we remained undiscovered (could it be that they are not assassins?) but, after my newfound accomplice told me to walk away from them quickly because they might be watching, we lost them.
The Society Curio reports:
Do these movements sound familiar to anyone? I'd love to know if you were really assassins or not.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Nah, they weren't assassins. BTW, the name of the shoppe was "Robert Sayle" an purveyor of perfume and night-goggles.
Robbin' Hood reports:
Robbin' Hood, Robbin' Hood,
Ridin' through the glenn
Robbin' Hood, Robbin' Hood
and his Merry Men...
(Bandit Balaclava, Friar Ski-Mask
and Maid Sock-over-her-Head)
shot our silent visitor
till the outer walls were red...
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
I was out upon a grand embassy to represent my subjects against the forces of deodorant. I passed Boots, then Robert Sayles, when who should I see but two of the vilest Robinsonian oppressors.
Fie!
Biding my time, I courageously shot Ms Rayner in the Back.
No longer shall my subjects suffer her hygienic fascism!
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Immediately following my death-defying charge, Mr Churchill also suffered from a bullet.
Let it not be said that thy Emperor does not fight for his loyal populace.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
With time to kill this afternoon, I tried to do just that, but without success. When I returned, I saw what appeared to be Ed Nokes leaving my staircase. Realising that I'd probably be outgunned, I decided that the name of the game was to go round the houses to safety in a bathroom nearby, which I know and love.
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
It wasn't very imaginative, and certainly not befitting my undifferentiable status at the origin.
I failed to find a suitable function in Emma which would have a discontinuity at The Faithful one's door. So I aperiodically wiggled my way up Q staircase and found Uncle's door. The area was inspected for ways in and activity, but sadly my opposing curve was well-behaved.
So: I knocked in a suitably vicious way without any prepared heinous lie. Didn't answer the paranoid query from inside. Then tried the doorhandle. Then ran away.
I gave a little almost-sinusoidal wave to the survivor from the end of North Court, and feeling none-too dangerous, diverged to infinity.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
My dear old Mrs Faithful warned me never to trust any suspicious discontinuous functions knocking on my door, especially if they contain trigonometric frivolities. You should have let me know that it was x squared sin 1 over x when I asked! I was just getting my differential operator ready.
The Society Curio reports:
Having lost track of our prey, Juan Ramiresh and I decided to pay a visit to a certain member of Jesus College (who shall remain nameless to protect us from retaliation). We reached this fiend's room. Our plan was to quietly turn the door handle, just in case it was open (although this has never worked for me). As I approached the door, gun clearly visible, someone came out of the neighbouring room. Well, I thought, it could be my target. I enquired as to whether this was the case. The reply was no, but I was not convinced. On the other hand, something told me to be paranoid (I guess it's just that instinct we all have). In a moment of indecision, I looked for advice to my accomplice, who (and this is what I did not appreciate at the time) being out of sight of the victim, was unaware that this non-player had not emerged from the victim's room. Needless to say, he advised the rash action with a hand motion and now I have the blood of an innocent on my hands.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
In all fairness, her responses on questioning were delayed and dubious. It was done in the name of safety.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Oh dear... She will be annoyed...
At least, I assume it was me you tried to kill, if it was Christine, then te problem should be less...
The Society Curio reports:
Having failed to kill Tom Garnett, we turned our attention to one Christine Clarke, on whose appearance and location my ally had up-to-the-minute information. It was simply a matter of walking into a room full of people too busy immersed in the false world of television to notice me, then shooting the one matching our description. Our source turned out to be reliable.
The Society Curio reports:
It would have been nice if you'd told me you were already dead, Christine! But of course, the lure of television is such that one cannot hold a conversation while its evil rays shower our brains. It happens to the best of us.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Christine failed to notice our presence, even after her head had been shower'd in finest arsenic, and so we left despondently.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
She told me about this, and seemed mildly worried, and quite dead (from my escapades, not yours...)
Oh, and Ed - she wasn't at the ball either.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, there I was, in Pizza Express, with a mixed group, including at least one ex-assassin... When the person opposite me asked who I was, and why she recognised me...
She asked if I was an assassin, and I said 'No, not at all... well, yes', to which she replied 'Oh, me too - are you playing this term?', to which I replied 'No', and alluded to various friends (Spice, for one) who were. She said that she was, and was showing off her gun, so I attempted (clumsily) to draw and fire the gun from the bag at my feet - it was close, but the general consensus was that she fired first.
Not that it mattered, her being dead and all, as she belatedly realised.
In the interests of harmony, we made a non-agression pact, later rendered irrelevant by a certain psycopath.
You-Know-Who reports:
My Rubberbandicus curse got him just when the bus he wanted to take in order to flee from Cambridge was about to leave.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
TSC had already killed me 3 times and had tried to another 3, so I thought that I just had to get revenge. I knew that he was likely to be in the computer room after he went to dinner, which would be after the 5.30pm watershed. Looking round, I found him in exactly the same position where he had killed me 6 days earlier. I was thinking, "The broadsword or the rapier? The macho masculine way or the foxy feminine way?" In the end, I just stabbed him in a thrilling and amusing way. Joy was unconfined.
The Society Curio reports:
Actually, I was in the computer room to report on the events earlier tonight. I feel uneasy when in the computer room outside 9am-5.30pm and therefore only go there if it is necessary. Your guess was right by pure chance; the Fates are punishing me for killing an innocent.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
I was sitting next to Nick, who (curious about this whole assassin thing) asked how you killed somebody... I asked him to hold Angela's gun for a second, then shot him twice when he did, by way of explanation.
You-Know-Who reports:
Since Matt's return to Cambridge, I tried to kill him twice with the mighty Rubberbandicus curse when the window of his room was open, but each time he was to fast.
But today he trusted his location to a Fidelius charm and three times is a charm, so I found him and summoned the Archdemon of orange-gray vegetables, who devoured poor Matt.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Returning back to my room after successfully killing TSC, I passed Burns's room with loud music coming out of it. He wasn't in his room, but the door opposite was ajar, which was where I soothed any burns he had with cold water. Everything in the garden was filthy.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Doubtless he was masquerading as a hip-hop fan in Grant Oddoye's room.
Krimson reports:
Strolling along King's parade I spotted a certain dangerous vegetable salesman not ten feet ahead of me. I hoped to be able to walk unnoticed behind a few innocent pedestrians until coming within range for my handgun. Unfortunately this becomes that much more difficult when said pedestrians are a decimeter too short, and I saw my intended target discretely take a carrot from a pocket. Doubting that this was to be offered as a sample of his goods I lifted my gun and fired many times, but was just out of range. I then retreated to avoid the carrot, turned and fired while the Grocer drew his gun, missed, ran out of ammo, ran, died.
Robbin' Hood reports:
quite irrelevantly, i'm in W22 Newnham for the moment. come round if you want to shoot me / a hygienic demise. there is still party food to be had *hospitablebow*
The Grocer reports:
There's not much more to add really. I was peacefully discussing my nice fresh produce with a customer, when the lurking shape of a man hove into view.
By heck, you lurk suspiciously, Johannes.
How kind of Krimson to fire only at my feet (and inaccurately at that). I should have hit Krimson with the first vegetable, but thankfully I had a fully loaded rubber banana gun with me to distribute my deadly wares. A fun little chase.
The Health and Safety Inspectorate reports:
Whilst making my way aimlessly down the Emperor's Parade, it suddenly came to me that the repetitive crunching noise that accompanied the first and third quarter points of my perambulatory oscillation was not, as I had previously though, the sound of my shoes striking artfully cut and shaped cobblestones, but was in fact the sound generated by half-a-million Nasty Little Smelly People simultaneously masticulating upon various items of grocery, most marked of which was the much-loved Daucus carota of family Umbelliferae.
Why their rabbit-like munching was in perfect quadrature to my gait was, alas, never revealed. But I disgress.
No sooner had I been overcome by the shocking halucinatory nature of this spectacle than did a vast horde of vicious uniformly continuous sinusoidal maps with a down-right nasty non-isolated essential singularity come charging towards me, mounted upon a gently conversing horsehorde.
"This report is very silly," thought I, as the peyote wore off. Happily, an analysis fug wasted no time in setting in and suspending my more common-sensical though processes, and the garden was Hausdorf'd from the House and the flowers and the bumbling natscis and other unmathematical fauna.
Then I woke up.
Then the sinusoidal horselords granted to me a vision of their Emperor, so I discharged a reasonable volume of water into an epsilon-neighbourhood centered about him of size sufficient to beat any umpirical delta. This should help the flowers to grow and prettify the garden.
Then I woke up, and shot the Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People for contravening the sacrosanct Heath and Safety Inspectorate regulations.
Then the nice nurse came with my medicine.
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Aha!
I and my people were on the march against the deeply evil Inspectorate.
The Grocer reports:
And Aha! even more! I had the contract to supply this valiant if odorous army with diverse produce!
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
Ahaaaa, Aaahaaa! I am quotable almost everywhere, as a suitably vicious counterexample for any occasion!
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
"Wilbur, do you see that guy over there with the dodgy moustache and the large holdall"
"To be honest, Mr. Ed, I'm more worried about the strange and frankly vile smell round here. It smells a bit like.....mouldy carrot"
"Well, Wilbur, I like my carrots but I prefer them fresh."
"And that weird rhythmical crunching sound, d'you hear that?"
"Wilbur! He's running towards us"
"Mr. Ed! Mr Ed! My only true love! you can't die!"
(Wilbur Weeps as Mr. Ed bleeds)
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
(My blood isn't smooth at all. It's actually quite sticky and left a large mess in King's Parade)
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Fie!
Alas!
Alack!
My army is crushed and my kingdom in ruins! At the hands of the nebulous forces of Hygiene under the auspices of the Health and Safety Inspectorate!
You-Know-Who reports:
I was walking from Pembroke to Sidney via Newnham, because that way has less streetlights, hence preserves my nightvision and also might avoid certain evil characters. Then suddenly I saw Alex, Angela, Tom, Paranoia Personified and Macavity next to a punt. I drew my magic wand and cast the lethal Rubberbandicus spell and cast it at the three assassins in the group. However due to his undead nature it didn't affect Alex.
You-Know-Who reports:
However The Incredible Sulk standing next to Alex didn't react quickly enough (he could have unleashed his drago(o)n on me).
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Shit happens.
I had been all nicely paranoid for the previous 20 minutes, too... then let my guard down, while chatting to everyones favourite double-team.
Oh, I thought he shot me first, then the other two...
And where were you? We were expecting you all the way up to granchester, and you never showed... Terrible shame.
You-Know-Who reports:
How vexing that Angela was dead as well, otherwise it would have been my third triple kill in 3 to the 3 hours. At least the magic wand I used has 54 marks on it now, that's better than the evil Sirius Black managed in total (we all know he is guilty, don't we?).
The Grocer reports:
I cast my remaining Carrots in the general vicinity of the Cam in a first step to regaining my sanity.
Shall I ever bring myself to eat these dangerous vegetables again?
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
I attended a social gathering tonight, feeling fairly safe, when suddenly someone started to fire a gun fairly loudly. My instincts took over, I had no choice but to shoot him in self-defence. Ok so I knew the person, and it turned out to be my own weapon, but he was bearing it unconcealed, and after all you can never be safe enough these days.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I was just trundling out of my jolly room, when I heard people make noises outside. Fearing that somebody would try to concoct one frightfully vicious final assassination before the 12am watershed, my Pavlovian reaction was to return to safety healthily. TSC, who I had killed just under 4 hours earlier was there, saying that he was dead, which he was. However, I spotted the frightfully virtuous chap Ralph Owen lurking behind as well, and was suspicious about any other alive assassins trying to use their broadswords or rapiers. TSC claimed that good old Ed Nokes was there as well, and perversely invited me to be killed by him, so to say. Not sure whether to believe a dead person, I said I was prepared to wait until midnight and that there were other people to get their hands dirty with, like an applied mathematician. Even if I had been killed then, it would have been invalid as a dead accomplice was used: a mistake typical of simple-minded natural scientists. Joy was unconfined.
Automatic Umpire reports:
And... that's it! Game over, Björn Holzhauer has won (again)!
Produced at Fri Oct 5 21:00:24 2001 .