The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 NewsYes, of course I was up early. No, I still wasn't able to kill anyone at
5am, but I actually managed to get to a door this time. Unfortunately, I'd
neglected to bring bombs, and by the time I'd resolved this problem
Next time.
And the red Queen was waiting for the news
For the white King to move
And the balance hung upon the head of one who tried
To stay within the shadows
And keep his undercover secret tight
They let him in by a backway
Into a chamber reserved for the Queen
She took the note that he gave her
Opened it slowly and started to read
The Red Queen, in the spirit of eternal keenness, made her way to Newnham at 5:20am - spurred on by the thought of 3 Fresher targets, I thought I'd take advantage of early birds, annelids and all that - the prospect of the 'Xanth' award for swiftness guided me. Having successfully negotiated the fearsome Porters, I located my target's room and sat down outside to wait out the night with my problem sheets for the week. The best part of 2 hours had passed, when I began to hear quiet noises from my target's room.
Aha! Thought I, the inexperienced Fresher stirs from her rest. A few more minutes passed. Faintly, there came the sound of a computer starting up. Time dragged on..
Then came the sound of gentle clicking. Surely that can't be a gun she's loading? Nah - just the ticking of a clock or her brushing teeth or any of a number of things.
Finally, there came the sound of rustling at the door. I sat there, poised, expecting a disshevelled, Medusa-esque figure to egress and stumble towards the bathroom. Instead, the rustling ceased abruptly. The experienced (read: paranoid) assassin would probably have jumped on a bike and cycled to Girton by now, but not I. Instead, lulled by the ease with which I had broken into the hitherto-impregnable Newnham, I settled back down and entertained myself with a thrilling question on vectors.
The handle rattled and the door swung open. Not with casual and unsuspecting lethargy, though. Oh no - with a full on assault charge and 4 RBGs unloading into my right ear. Underestimation - the secret of good assassination. I think being outkeened is a good way to go.
I hear there's space in the police force.
Woke up this morning to the sound of someone elses alarm clock, and what should I find but a suspicious character (Richard Gibson) hanging outside my room doing maths? He obviously wasn't killing anyone else around here... so I shot him.
Was that so wrong?
After a unfruitful visit to the boathouse, and discovering the ominous yellow flag unfurled, I find myself in the situation of being awake too early for lectures and too late for another nap in bed. Already on a 21 hour sleep deprivation, my fingers are ruled more by reflex than reason. Having found out that one of my targets, Edd, is simply a 5 minutes walk away, my deep instinct told me that the early assassin makes the kill. Thus armed with flexed fingers and 4 rubber bands I made my way past locked doors (note to Umpire: by going in another entrance!) with ease. Edd was in his room. I disturbed his sleep by sending him to an eternal rest instead.
After choosing my victim wisely I proceeded to navigate the dark streets of Cambridge all the way to Selwyn, after successfully finding his room (due to the helpfullness of college members) I knocked on the door. After about 5 minutes of continued knocking he answered it and the knife was thrust cruely into his chest.
He died.
Yay.
Monday the 25th of October, and Government Issue Bob receives a secret message describing his latest mission that self-destructs after he has read it. But what is this mission? To locate and neutralise three suspicious people planning to murder important government officials.
Unfortunately, being a 2cm high stick figure, there is no way G.I.Bob could face them in armed combat. So instead he writes a poisoned letter and asks a porter to help him put it in the high pigeonhole.
Fresh from my first kill as a first day assassin, I walked back, absent-mindedly pondering on whether to cycle out to Girton and hit my second target with the element of surprise. Yet my beginner's luck has ran out. Carelessly, I took the letter out of my pigeon hole, momentarily forgetting that no oridinary postman would deliver any letter between 7am-8am. It was tidily done. A white envelope, a typed address, everything to ensnare the unguarded mind. Along the top edge is the deadliest poison known to Man, and as I unfolded the letter, it touched my finger. Briefly, but enough. As I glanced over the contents my sight blurred... not for the lack of sleep but for the eternity of darkness and sightlessness awaiting me. As I sank softly onto the tiles, my last realisation brought me some pride: I killed, and was killed, in my first three hours of this deadly game.
There is a MaDnEsS in Cambridge!!!!! It nevEr sLeeps... dO you?
i got my brains eaten at 8 ish this morning!!!
I heard there was a fan in Selwyn who was just desperate to meet me, so I thought I'd drop round. At first he thought it was the bedder, but we soon cleared that up. Very nice he was too, he even gave me some coffee.
I had finished my morning routine of stretches (to keep me agile and fit in order to tackle any assassination job presenting itself), and I turned on my laptop to dicover my list of anticipated victims. With a wicked laugh I began printing the list, and turned to begin designing some crude weapon with which to dispose them.
At that point, I heard my door handle turn. Looking at the clock (8.20), it was clearly just the bedder coming in to tidy the shower. Turning to say "Hi Maria" (or crack some sarcastic joke), it suddenly dawned that the terrifying figure in my doorway was no cleaner!!
Just as I was about to reach for a ruler, a piece of paper, anything!? an
elastic band hit me on my shoulder - fired from the gun of
Keeping with the friendly attitude of all Selwynites, I offered
The MaDnEsS!! It's always lurking, waiting for you, open your door to it - let it in!!!
"...And what's your favourite colour?" "The evanescant shade of dewdrops refracted through gas from Venus." replied a voice smarmily. "Okay, green. Finally, when was the last time you had sex with a lamppost?" "You what?" "Ah, so you do finally pick an answer on the quiz, I thought you'd have gone with 'piss off, myself." "Piss off sleazy," Nasty strolled into the room, "you know these things are all crap." Sleazy wasn't listening, he was too busy trying to figure out why adding three and three gave him such a huge number. Somewhere in the attic, Noisy dropped something heavy. Somewhere in the bathroom, Sick produced a sound too unpleasant to regurgitate here. "Okay, let's see here... you're affirmitave, and aren't afraid to show it, although you don't mind when other's take the lead. Your favourite food is cheese, you're someone who likes to get out and about in the world, but are rarely seen outside. You either play poker, or you don't, and oh, you absolutely hate cheese." "Hey, that's my result!" Touchy sounded offended... but then, that wasn't unusual. "Still," Sleazy ignored the outburst, "not bad for a quiz that professes to be about 50% right..." "Can't you think of something better to do?" a high squeaky voice interjected. But Pious didn't get an answer because at that moment there came a knocking at the door.
I borrowed a bomb from a mutual friend, and dropped it off outside my target's door. Then I felt guilty about leaving other people's stuff lying around, and resolved to come back for it.
It had come to G.I.Bob's attention, thanks to his secret surveillance devices, that one of his targets, the nefarious Andrew Wimbush, was working in the same offices as him!
G.I.Bob couldn't possibly allow this dangerous individual to live so close to his secret headquarters, so he prepared a trap. With the help of a helicopter, he positioned a dangerous explosive device in front of his door and set it to detonate when the door was opened.
Another successful mission for G.I.Bob!
I was killed this morning by a bomb that was placed outside my door. I had spent the night away from my room, but unfortunately died while trying to dismantle the explosive. Tragically, another assassin, Fiona Doyle, and an innocent, Susie Batey, were within the blast radius at the time. I have no idea who dispatched us.
I called round to see another fan in Magdalene- finding his room was difficult but in the end I got to speak to one of his friends, who told me he'd gone out! I must say that's a bit rude an' all, setting up a meeting with me and then going out?! I'll have to call round later.
tonight martin turnock sleeps with the fishes. It was lunchtime and having organised the week's duty roster for the various employees in my criminal empire i decided to run some errands - 'Go to Sainsbury's to get some milk, drive by St. John's to kill someone... etc. It was an ingeneous plan - thought out to the last conceivable detail. i knocked on the door. He opened the door and boom! Four rubber bands riddled his chest (good grouping too). 'ingenius' he said as he slumped to the floor.
G.I.Bob's next mission was to defeat the evil Robert Duschinsky. Unfortunately, he lived a long way from G.I.Bob, so there was no way he could even hope to reach him before his competence deadline.
So what did G.I.Bob do? He cleverly attached a poisoned letter to a pigeon's leg and instructed it to deliver it to his evil nemesis.
G.I.Bob lives on... unlike his enemies!
I feel more than slightly foolish to go out of the game even before I had checked my e-mail to find out the game had started and who I was meant to murder. That is the true meaning of being rubbish at it. Oh well... there's always next term.
After a quick stop at Ryman's Stationary Shop to purchase a ridiculously large bag of ammo, I embarked upon a little recon.
Through the dank underground subway catacombs of Emma to the soaring heights of Homerton, I wandered near and far, 'ere the hill and 'ere the dale to locate the lairs of my chosen ones. This accomplished, I bade hasty retreat back to my fortress where now I sit and cradle my weapons until tonight when I go out for the kill...
Humiliatingly, I was shot as I cautiously opened my front door.
I knew that a certain spot outside my door was a major vulnerability, and surprise surprise, an assassin came charging out of there, with a rubber band shot to me just as I was trying to close the door.
In future, I'm only ever leaving my room by abseiling down from the window.
Anyway, the chap identifying himself as
Oh well- top marks for good craftsmanship.
Target: Seth Thevoz
Time: 4:05pm 25/10/04
Action: Kill
Method: Shot to right lung.
I'm really sorry for being a bit of a git over this one, there are better ways of handling disputes, I'm just no good at it. However as the umpire says - disputes should always be talked over on the spot, because otherwise it's really messy.
Paul dumped a fridge on my head as I opened his door. it was a really nice trap (and I approve of carlsberg), but at the time I looked up and noticed the fridge hadn't really gone very far. I pointed out that they should fall a metre (about the height of the ceiling in this case), and under the rules I'm not dead. But Paul and I do agree that a metre is a bit silly for internal room traps - it's impossible in most rooms in fact. I suggest the rules should be altered to say taht a fridge dropped from a foot or more should cause unconsciousness, hell, it's much harder to do than coshing someone.
This would have given Paul enough time to kill me in any way he saw fit. Again. Sorry sorry sorry, come over for coffee.
Yes. never ever simple. Jack disputed too, although we sorted things out pretty fast. from my end, my gun was in the door crack, and pointing between his eyes when I said bang. Jack's a great guy, and we had a good chat about stuff, and agreed. I will certainly visit again once dead, because the people I spoke to were all lovely.
he came out of the lift unaware and casually strolled down to his room,where i was behind him,so i said thomas.....he turned to say yes and ....he was killed with an accurate rubber band shot stragiht into his body
It began at 08:00 today, when I carefully edged my door open a single, jittery centimetre, and set out. Every person in the street a potential killer, every "good morning" an invitation for an untimely demise, every step a pace closer to death. Even after reaching the comparative safety of the lecture hall, nothing could drive the thought from my mind - I was a marked man, with nothing but a short knife and a squishy chocolate bar in my pockets, and frankly I doubted one would be any better than the other as far as defence goes.
After furtively walking the mean streets of town twice, taking a detour to reconnoitre one of my assignment's lodgings, I could almost hear the pen scratchings as the life insurance people hastily revised my policy. Finally resolving to return to my humble digs and make a pretence of working, I eventually reached the foyer, and was stopped short. I knew for a fact that the elevator was unsafe, but on the other hand, the staircase was full of toxic fumes the previous night - could I take a chance the air had cleared? I chose the elevator, it's better to die fast, and went up to my floor, now with only my knife and my thoughts for company (I had alread eaten the chocolate, which was a pity, because it probably had more of an edge on it).
The doors opened to reveal a somewhat unkempt gentleman in a dubious shirt, in what the physicists probably like to call a state of extreme rest. A victim of circumstance perhaps, or maybe just waiting for the elevator (In practice, there's little difference). The shirt was loud, and could probably tell me more than words ever could about this man, but I decided to take the abridged version and saw that he at least didn't have anything up his sleeves, or indeed any sleeves at all. Turning the corner I felt something was wrong, but realised too late that what I'd detected was the absence of footsteps towards the lift. The silenced pistol coughed politely, like an embarrassed maitre d' trying to inform me as discreetly as possible that my tie was in the soup again. Darkness opened up in front of me. I jumped in. As is so often the case, there was no bottom.....
Everyone has heard of Catch-22, which introduces the contradictions of armed forces legislation. It states that attempts to leave the airforce on grounds of insanity requires a certain degree of sanity to perform. Fewer people have heard of its even more fundamental cousin, Catch-23. Catch-23 states than all options are always wrong.
A case in point: the door of
But Catch-23 cuts both ways. Many approaches to the handling of the bomb are time-consuming. But almost all the others will result in spontaneous discovery of the secret cache of poison embedded in the bomb's label...
It's an ill wind that blows no-one any good. Over and out.
I'm staring at the Catch. It's the one on the door of Hendrik Schroeder, and it's unlocked. This is worrying.
I have three main options, each with their own (metaphysical) catch. I can just get the heck out of there, thus wasting time. I can attempt to attach the bomb to the door and hope it doesn't swing open whilst I'm doing so, a gamble on my skills. Or I can storm the door, guns blazing, a move which risks immediate termination from the victim or his associates. I chose the second option.
My skills proved to be up to the task. Another bomb, another poison cache, another Catch-23 inflicted on an enemy. Over and out.
i waited for her in the adjacent kitchen room and having asked her friends what she looked like,did not think twice about shooting her from behind.although one good friend had described her wrong to trick me but no no no
I checked my watch. 18:10, so I had time for a single mission.
Corpus was nearest, so I proceeded past their porters and into the
courts. Finding
Using this special mixture I attached a note to his door, such that when he removed the note there was a good chance he would poison himself on my tincture of herbs.
I then exited the college again, nodding to the porters who were none the wiser. 18:20, so I should have no difficulty making my next appointment.
so barbaba drew was killed by a rubber band shot in the stomach at approximately 6:25pm .please report this using my nickname' the ultimate daddy' cheers p.s. what happenes now that i have asassinated all the people on my list ?
I do like it when the second hit on google for my target's name gives me a photo and a meeting they must attend that evening. So I did what any assassin would do... went there and stood outside. Needless to say my hapless victim appeared shortly before the start of his very important meeting... unfortunatly he never made it.
Well I knew Adrian was simply dying to meet me, but he hadn't been in all day. So I dropped round this evening to say hi. He was a bit surprised, and jumped all over the room when he saw me, but I managed to calm him down.
I, Dakeyras, have taken out one Fiona Verity Scoble with a shot of potatoey death to the body. I went a-knocking, she went a-opening, 'Fi?' - the last words she heard.
Stalu ond Cwalu sneakled ond scufflied ond slytherred through the blackiness. for tonight was a nighty of nights, or a night at least, ond they were sneakling ond scuffliing towards a denlie den of mens. Or, as Stalu reflected to Cwalu as they reflectled into each other's crimiosonlinessness, a denlie den of woomans.
But there was a problelem yes there was there was was, for the denlie of weemans was guardeded. Stalu ond Cwalu ond Stalu again disisguiseds theemsleves with coasters of blackliest dark to be as littliest suspicciouious positiable. As they did slippery intowards the denlie heart of woemins.
Cwalu didst stalling for a moemet to reflectle upon the wonderousnessness of the reflectling fount of wateries, but didst Stalu heisten Cwalu ontowards? Stalu didst. Stridling boldlitie likest two of puriest belongongsings did theyst be blocked by a gatling of mystic magilics, but for Stalu's sneaklieness was it was no barrier.
Then ond onlie thens didit Cwalu with greats scufflieing stickst a devisets of truliest cunninings to the portle of one weimaen, beforest knockling twicest lightest, ond buggering off.
Was planning to kill target on the way to lectures in the morning, but spotted him outside Gardies around midnight (he cunningly was clever enough to be in the IMO team, thus making his photo be plastered all over the web) and knifed him in the back as he was walking back to Trinity.
I attempted to kill Ross Edmondson (Don't know his pseudonym) of Selwyn college with a possie of four, hell bent on death. Alas the canny geezer just wouldn't open the door, so we left him a little present...., and then we trampsed off to to Darwin for the next Target.
A knock on the door. "Hello?" I say as i wander over to peer out at whoever is standing there. Two guys and two girls, I AM popular. Not realising I am standing there watching and listening, they have a quick discussion as to what my name is, referencing their target list no doubt. Then comes the really good bit....
"We've got a fencing glove"
"Riiiight..."
"It's Mark Adairs, he left it at training..."
"Ok, pass it through the letterbox"
"We can't, its padded and won't fit"
Now, I myself fence, and know full well the size of a fencing glove. There is no way that you could fence with a glove too big to pass through a letterbox - it would be like sewing wearing skigloves.
"Why don't you go and give it to Mark - he lives *here*"
"Oh. Um. Ok."
When they had left (even I wasn't going to burst out and try and kill 4 assassins) I followed them. All the way down Sidgwick avenue, to the crossroads. Here they noticed me, and one of them came across to me. Rumbled, I thought! But no, he very politely asked me if I knew where Darwin was! I told him, resisting the urge to enquire as to whether he knew where I could get a fencing glove, and watched the group enter, and return a few minutes later. With that, I followed them home, and discovered where they live.
Be warned, I know all about you now!
Came back from breakfast to find a stanger hanging around outside my room: not being properly awake I cleverly ignored him and was stabbed as I walked past.
OOH Shiiit, I'm dead!!! He cried as he cried in agony, with his last dying gasp, as I wiped the blood off the dagger with which I had used to stab Thomas Robinson's right kidney. I smirked and quietly said "I win, you lose". And as I walked away from his domicile I took out my death list and crossed out the name of my first victim with a thick red felt tip pen. Little had he susupected, with my perfect disguise as an innocent Cambridge undergraduate with my dagger disguised as a bookmarker in a boring medium sized text book, that I was actually a deadly assassin as he walked past me on his way to his room....... Hahaha. You will be hearing more from O-Ren.
I opened my door this morning to the deafening screech of a bomb detonating. In my death throes I uttered the much-heard words "If only I'd registered a Bomb Shelter!"
Arrising early (0645), in true military fashion, I proceeded to the house of a certain Miss. Kirsty Reger. Despite a British gentleman's complusions about not harming ladies, I set my mind to the task and planted a box of treats by her door. I do hope she enjoys it.
Lt. J Parker
Standard Unpronounceable Ruleset (5 card draw, minimum of twice playtime for each)
'Teatime in [Bohemia]^2'
"I say," I said, "this rabbit is truly divine."
"Oh," the Baroness looked bored. "We have a monopoly on those. I find that they taste funny."
"Really?" Finishing one cup of tea I started sipping on the other. "But what could possibly taste any better?"
The Baroness brushed her hair back with one hand as she continued talking, "The _other_ rabbit."
This was clearly a sign for the maid who had been standing nearby, as she pulled a cord and the curtains drew back. Beyond was a rabbit, happily playing among the mountains.
"Dear Lord!" I ejaculated, spitting out tea. "That thing must be twice, no, thrice the size it ought to be!"
"Even bigger than that!" She smirked, and then frowned. "I only wish it would stop crushing the pheasants and foxes; we've lost a lot of game because of that one."
"Baroness, I have but one question now." I was on one knee now, a twinkle in my eyes. "Do you dance the tango?"
"A little, yes."
"Then you must die."
So she did.
'Splendid' I thought as I passed by my pigeon-hole this morning on the way out, it appears someone loves me. However, remembering the violence of my last lovers goodbye gift to me, I understandably approached the note with caution. As i carefully cut open the bottom and sides of the envelope with my trusty bacon-tongs and scissors, my heart was filled with joy! 'Someone cares enough for me to attempt to end my miserable existence with a friendly bomb'. Alas, I was still going through a rough patch due to my last romantic encounter, and so was not prepared to end my penance for my sins on this earth just yet. Life continues and my punishment goes on, but one day, i may find peace in death.
Those assassins who are new to the game would profit from study of the events occuring at lunch today in Trinity college hall. I was stabbed by a mad knife-wielding assassin. The fact that I did not prevent this suggests that such qualities as opportunism and bravado, so clearly displayed by my assailant (who identified himself to me only as Llewelyn) are difficult to stand up to. Indeed such qualities are part of the classic recipe for success as an assassin.
However, it is also possible to learn from his mistakes. He not only stabbed me in the arm but did so with a table knife swiftly drawn up from the table. I did not die. Read the rules. He also failed to see the warning signs as I drew my gun. Always be on your guard.
He died. Nevertheless, I see a bright future for him in other games.
The Quick Brown Fox's building was paid a visit by the ultimate daddy (Hossein Berry-Noubar), who was looking for a fellow housemate. The Quick Brown Fox appeared too innocent to be carrying a knife. The Quick Brown Fox showed a surprising amount of interest in the weapons of his new friend. The Quick Brown Fox knows to kill when he sees an assassin's weapons. A knife to the heart was all it took...
Well my first attempt at assassination went horribly horribly wrong. Having cunningly managed to get into my target's college, I was thwarted by the fact that she listened to her mother's advice about strangers and didn't open the door... Those at this college have a shocking advantage - they have peep holes on their doors from which to espy the potential risk, thus negating the possiblity of surprise... freggle!
So I left a threatening note - and as I was walking out of Emma was attacked from behind by a green florescent highlighter knife wielded by a vicious assassinee.
Skeletor, on opening his bedroom door at the early hour of 1:30pm dropped to the ground to avoid the clumsily made trap he found awaiting him. The axe swung limply above his head. Having heard the scuffling at his door only moments earlier followed by the swift departure of Paul Chapman from the area, Skeletor decided to persue his assailant. He offered little resistant to the shear power of Skeletor's rubber band gun.
Silently, as though a shadow of death, I crept through the courts of Emmanuel, making my way to the room of Amardeep Lidder. I had the whole scenario planned out. Turning all the lights off in the corridoor outside his room, I plunged the place into darkness. Hiding in his bathroom, I waited for my unsuspecting victim to return home. My wait was not a long one, and by 4pm he walked through the door. As he fumbled for the light switch, I mader certain that he would soon arrive in a place where lights were no longer necessary. Bursting out of the bathroom, I shot him twice in the chest. He died, screaming like a little girl, his face a picture of utter shock. The merciless execution over, and my target dispatched, I drew my knife, and upon his forehead, I carved in blood a flaming bird, the symbol of The Phoenix....
Bouncy-bouncy decided to start the afternoon by placing a poisoned postcard in Amieth Yogarajah's pigeonhole in Trinity. Crossing Angel Court, however, he noticed a man with a suspicious resemblence to Amieth heading himself. Bouncy-bouncy's doubts were shed when a female friend called out "Amieth!" from a window above. As the unsuspecting target opened the mailroom door, Bouncy-bouncy placed a dagger in his back.
There i was, full of confidence, sure that this
Went round, but no-one was home.
On entering a rather innocent looking kitchen I questioned if my hit, Tora was in, On hearing, "yup, she's here" and a poor bystander being pointed at I promptly shot the poor decoy in the face with my trusty green water gun. After I gathered I had shot the wrong girl I attempted to secure the area waiting for the return of my target. All in vain, as Tora sprung out of the kitchen from a little nook with a futile piece of garrotte paper. Stepping back I soaked the paper and the victim in one fell swoop. For the record a head and heart shot were achieved.
I have assassinated John Niland with a knife in the back while he was attempting to enter the safety of his room.
After some cunning sneaky activity to enter Clare College and to reach the correct floor, I noticed my victim had made a few mistakes. She was sat unarmed by her door with two friends who when asked "Is there a Charlotte here?" both turned and looked at her. This resulted in 5 shots to the body and an unfortunate 'scalding' incident when her mug of tea was split in the panic.
At about 10.15, I met a group from emma in the Corpus JCR, unknown to all but one, I had infiltrated their ranks and identified my target, Richard Harris. After a moment of conversation, he discovered a knife in his chest, and realised he had been betrayed. And then we played table football.
Having gone unused, Bouncy-bouncy thought he'd plant his poisoned postcard in
Found one postcard in theory from the Cambridge Arts Theatre covered in poison.
Someone was very lucky that an innocent friend of mine didn't get my post as a favour. Not just that, but they had poisoned fingerprints of an assassin all over it.
Hmmm... how do they survive?!
Oh well, so far, not dead. Close shave though... VERY close...
After many moons of recon and cycling about 20 miles I was starting to build up healthy profiles on all three of my 'clients'. Tonight after formal hall, I was ready. I was fuelled and eager, fully armed and very dangerous...
I crept past the p'lodge (they never even saw me) up to the door of
Silence...
"You're not my target" I said to the girl I was aiming at.
"Don't shoot" said the girl.
I didn't shoot. Luckily for me she was telling the truth and told me that my target was out. We introduced ourselves and my target's roommate made me a cuppa which was nice. Some more people came round, none of whom were my target. When they suggested txting a warning, I bade them goodnight.
I walked to the p'lodge and then doubled back. I again climbed the stairs and waited...
and waited...
and waited some more...
an hour and 10 mins past...
then suddenly, I waited another five mins...
Finally I heard my target coming up the stairs. In anticipation of the kill I drew my gun. Big Mistake.
My target (although being a fresher) was impressively paranoid... they saw my gun and shot me with a Bang. Then, as I was reeling from the shock, I was rushed and stabbed twice in the chest, pitching my body over the balcony to fall three flights. I was dead before I hit the ground.
And thus, yet again, I have failed to kill anyone. My last thoughts being along the lines of "Bugger, not again."
Tonight I
foiled a plot to murder me by
Hahahahahahahahahaha!
Following yesterday's experiment with herbology I tried applying the
same principles to epistemology, and snuck a poisoned letter into
I walked into Caius today to collect my mail. There was a suspicious-looking brown envelope with my name and "UMS" scrawled on it in biro. Carefully, I lifted it out of the pigeonhole with my teabag-squeezing tongs and put it in my bag. I also collected a jiffy bag, apparently sent from Germany, from the porters' lodge.
Returning to my room, I put a plastic bag on the floor and, with the aid of rubber gloves, my cereal bowl, a spoon, a pair of scissors and the aforementioned tongs, I carefully opened the letter, avoiding the "herbal poison" (parsley) contained within. The letter claimed to be from "King of Wrong".
I repeated the procedure on the jiffy bag, expecting it to contain a CD of "Kung-Fu" style cover versions of techno tracks, and found that it contained two "Family Packs". Considering briefly that it would be amusing to sell contraceptives in "Family Packs", I remembered that I had ordered some sock pegs from http://www.sockstar.de .
I feel compelled to say that, although I have only had these sock pegs a short time, I already feel that they will make a significant impact on my life. No longer will I have to rely upon my maid for socks. The sock peg will enable me to achieve sock/shoe liberation. With this small, handy, discrete (so one says "fewer sock pegs", not "less sock pegs") device I can carry a pair of socks with me anywhere I like: lectures, hall, concerts, supervisions, etc. It doesn't even need batteries!
Naturally, I washed all the implements involved carefully and threw away the plastic bag and letter.
Terracotta Variant (1 unknown play, score by number of traditional connectors played)
'Bomb Defusing Semi-Finals'
"Oh dear, Dave, we have a conundrum. Do we cut the blue wire or... the other one?"
"The other one?" Dave looked perplexed. "How come you can't just call it the red wire?"
I gasped. This all but sealed our fate.
"Damn it, Dave, that's bad luck. And in the nationals too, of all places! How are we supposed to win now?"
"I don't care." Dave dismissed, cutting the red wire labelled 'safe to cut' and delving deeper into the mess of wires and flashing lights. "Red wire! Red wire, red wire, red wire~."
"Lalakalalawalalawakalakablahypyharrfyahrryyrryahrhrblalalala, not listening to you." I intelligently replied, dislodging the tin foil hat I was wearing as I shoved my hands over my ears.
"And win what, anyway? Romeo and Juliet over there have been debombing the hotel practically three times as fast as we have."
"But this is _my_ hotel and I say that whoever cuts the least... other wires wins."
And that's how William Shakespeare was cheated out of becoming a mad bomber.
One scheming assassin devised a plan to kill me this morning, leaving a little (2L) present outside my front door. Little did they know, I had been out-a -wandering this morning, and on return to my humble abode discovered a bodged-together device against the door. Quick thinking, and a visit next door to gather some equipment, i set about disarming the BOMB. A couple of simple adjustments, and a few minutes later I entered my (in tact) room, safe and happy, with my very own ticking bomb.
Got a letter this morning. Opened it. Discovered an assassin had cleverly tried to poison me with the most deadly subtance known to man; glitter! thanks to the inclement weather and trusty black gloves, elle lives to fight another day!
Another rogue is no more, the steady hand and killer instincts of Dakeyras have seen to that. Her head still full of the dull tones of the lecturer as she stepped out into the sunlight; she had no defence.
On the way between lecture theatres, and made very happy by the knowledge that I would be sitting next to my new target - a close friend, what a shame - in one of them, I didn't think too hard about the implications of "Sarah?" coming from behind me in an unfamiliar voice... Turning round I found myself on the receiving end of a large pistol of the watergun persuasion. Dammit. Very nice he was, though. He did apologise...
What is this, in my pigeon hole, I thought to myself. A letter. How unusual. A letter, furthermore, with a Cambridge postmark, with handwriting notably different from that of anyone I knew in Cambridge. And with a rather large and suspicious lump in it.
I carefully carefully took the letter back to my room, donned my poison-resitant gloves and carefully slit the envelope. My suspicions were confirmed - a sprinkling of glitter fell out harmlessly onto the table. Now for this large lumpy thing. A detonator, I presume. Ah look, here's the instructions. Won't be needing those. Just as I was congratulating myself on not dying, my oafish hands clumsily shifted the envelope, and the detonator, well, detonated. My final thought: How very irritating; as I slid to a bloodied heap on the ground.
Today someone attempted to kill me, which was very exciting, since I had had no other attempts this far! The potential killer inserted a poisoned sticker into my pigeon hole but, as I have already become a paranoia dominated assassin, I was quite careful when retrieving my mail. Anyway, thanks to whoever it was for taking the time to walk/cycle/ride etc. to my relatively distant college.
This morning i was horrified to hear a loud POP as i opened my door, it was sadly a bomb, cunningly stuck to my door. Open further inspection i noticed that the bomb radius was 4.2meter. This would actually have killed my next door neighbour Phil and the Girl who lives above me aswell. And i standing a mear 1.3m away from it would have probably melted from the impact of the molten apple juice.
So i am no more, oh well. At least i can try and hunt down the cowardly idiot who nuked half my staircase instead of stabbing me in the back like a real man/women.
/----------
0verkill --> /- | |
-/ | Target's |
| | Door |
Bicycle /-|- | |
| | | | | |
|/ | | | | |
___ ___ o | o | |
||/| ||/| | | 0 |
|-O-| |-O-| / | |
|/|| |/|| | | | |
--- /--- | | | |
/ | | | |
========= | | | |
| | | | |
--- -- _| |_ | |
============================================
/----------
| | The gap in this door is
| Target's | so small I'm having to
| Door | push harder than a
| | mother giving birth!
| | /
| | /- /
| | -/
| 0 | |
| | /|
| | / |
| | / |
|----|| |o =
|FAKE|| # |
|BOMB|----------/| |
|----|| | -----|
============================================
/----------
| |
| Target's |
| Door |
| Being |
| Opened |
| Later |
| |
| O |
/ |
/ / / |
| / / |
| |
| BOOOOM!!! | |
| / |
| / |
============================================
As the leaders of the greatest college of Cambridge, it is our duty to free our students from the oppression if proprietary software and lead them into an enlightened age of Free software. The first step towards achieving this great goal is to spread information about Free software. When the students have been educated about its virtues, surely they will tear off the shackles of Windows to live in the merciful, just and user-friendly world of Linux.
As part of our informational campaign, we decided to distribute copies of Debian GNU/Linux to students. We did this by placing installation CDs in their pigeonholes.
However, in some cases, prolonged exposure to Windows had irreversibly damaged the minds of the students. The only way in which they could be freed was through death. To this end, we used the evil Quartus to design an explosive device that would detonate when it came close to the hopelessly corrupted. How ironic that Altera's own software should play a part in its downfall!
Housten! We have a BPL (Bad Poisened Letter)
Either there is a trained super assassin trying to make me over confident, or I am under attack from a complete noob. The salt wasn't even ground up.
I apreaciate the attempt though (Which was quickly delt with using sergical gloves borrowed from a friend) and I enjoyed reading out your manical laugh (which spanned several lines).
Keep them comming :)
Finding herself in the city centre this afternoon the seamstress took the chance to distribute the poison letters she just happened to have on her at the time.
Somebody tried to poison The Goblin King. However the assassin failed due to several crucial errors:
and the most crucial error was:
The Quick Brown Fox wanted someone to play with. The Quick Brown Fox didn't seem to have many friends, and decided to use the cunning foxes are famed for. "A present!" exclaimed the excited creature, "everyone loves to get presents, that's sure to win me a new friend". The Quick Brown Fox set off to meet a pigeon...
" ... So there is a target walking down the street but a moments stride
ahead of me. Thanking my luck i cautght up, placed my gun to the
unsuspecting victim's kidney and foul murder was done upon the streets of
cambridge as
I was shot at point blank range at 10 past one today on
Kings Parade, on the way back from lectures, by
Hopefully those whom this may concern will be abel to root out the traitor and take appropriate precautions... :)
/----------
0verkill --> /- |/--------| ___ <-- Helpful passer by
-/ ||Door To || (o o) opening the door
| ||Target's|| -/ and letting 0verkill
/-|- ||Bulding | follow in behind him.
| | | /-|-
| | | | | |
o | o | | |
| ||=========| | | |
/ | | o | o
| | | 0 | /
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
_| |_ | | _| |_
============================================
/---------- ___
/- | | /___ <-- Helpful friend of
-/ | Target's | (o o){} target going to see
| | Door | -/ {} her and not closing
/-|- | | ww|ww the door behind her,
| | | | (o)| /-|- allowing 0verkill to
| | | | | / | | follow in.
o | o | / | |
| | | | |
/ | | | o
| | | 0 | /
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | | |//|
| | | | | |
_| |_ | | _| |_
============================================
___ BANG! ARRGHH!!
/___ /- / |
(o o){} -/ /
-/ {} | wwww
ww|ww /-|- /-ww <-- Dead Target
/-|- | | | > |ww
| | | | | | /==> o \_/ww
| | | o | o o |www
| | | | \_| |
o | o / | |
/ | | | |
| | | | /-----/ |
| | | | | =======
|//| | | | | |
| | | | | | |
_| |_ _| |_ _| | |
============================================
I have been killed by a musical card! I thought I had post but OHHH noooo , meanie!
One man deserves the credit,
One man deserves the blame,
And Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky is his name!
One man sent a letter,
One man's reports are all the same,
And Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky is his name!
Oi!
The friend I had intended to visit was not in, so I occupied my time by eliminating a target instead. Sally was sound asleep when I knocked on her door. Mid-afternoon naps?? Such sloth will not be tolerated in this Hallowed Institute of Learning! I felt it my duty to weed out the slackers, and carried out my task. She had a quick reaction despite not being completely awake; however, I was quicker. Embedding a knife in the centre of her forehead sent her back to eternal sleep.
hey i got killed today when an assassin stabbed me - was about 4 o'clock. which sucks
Recently while out foraging for acorns, pine and cobnuts to complete my winter sundries, I, a Squeaking Weasel, chanced upon Mother Duck below the oak tree that marks the centre of Crinkle Wood. "Oh," quacked Mother, "Do you know- I saw Eli Nalson, a stranger to the Shires, partaking of a skin of buttercup beer outside Jesus College."
"But Mother Duck," squeaked I, "would that be the same Eli Nalson whom has just received from me seven-score mortal wounds to the chest from a poorly calibrated Derringer at point blank range and with minimum pomp and circumstance?"
"The very same."
"Strange, fowl one: how could this be?"
"How would I know? I'm a duck."
I would just like to inform you that yesterday when walking through jesus college grounds I found myself being stalked by an unknown assasin, having been warned someone was on the look out for me I quickly took precautions to make sure no one saw me entering or leaving my room, little did i know that the assasin himself was taking the opportunity to hunt out a photo which would reveal my identity, later that night just when i thought i was safe I heard my name being called only to turn and find myself face to face with none other than an Assasin, pointing a gun at me! It was all over very quickly and despite all the blood hardly hurt at all.
I had just returned to my impenetrable fortress after a supervision at Teletubby land and was about to get down to making some weapons (after all an assassin needs weapons to kill people) when I decided to crash my housemates party. To my surprise, one of his guests had me on his hit list and he promptly decided to sneak behind me and cut my throat with a samurai sword. Reacting quickly I put my hand up to defend myself as I sensed him behind me, but this only meant that I lost my fingers before my head.
Oh well! At least next term I can use my old psuedonym (G.I.Bob for those of you who don't know). I would just like to reserve it in advance so that the cheeky beggar who took it this term doesn't try to get it again (he even copied the style of my reports).
Thrice the door knocked, and I answered. Hit by a sudden dread I clasped my trusty 12 shooter, and spied out. No-one to be seen. As I peered around the door, a shape leapt out at me. An attractive but near deadly shape. (Don't worry, I'm not hitting on you Julia (: ) Also a brave shape, for she was armed merely with a single band of death between finger and thumb. As she loosed, I felt it whoosh past my chin, so close I felt a rush of air. Shocked into action, and her mistaken belief that I was dead, I unloaded two quick shots into her chest, felling her instantly. And then we had a nice chat. At last! My first kill. Jeff will rule all.
I raced through the wind and rain on my bicycle to a land far far away, with little of a plan in mind...Upon reaching far far away, i tracked down my victim's den, knocked upon the door, and hid around the corner until he warily emerged... i dashed towards him - aiming and firing- a narrow miss, but alas my attack back-fired (literally).
On scanning the list of targets that had been sent to me, I was delighted to discover that one of them was already known to me, avoiding the need for tiresome reconnaissance.
Accordingly, I arranged to meet my subject and lured him off guard with small talk. As we crossed the threshold of his room, I brutally stabbed Ed Saperia who died with a look of betrayal in his eyes.
It was only with the utmost difficulty, however, that I escaped with my life after encountering several other highly armed assassins in the labyrinthine corridors surrounding his abode.
After a long night in the college bar, my senses were obviously numbed... I returned to find a weird bloke hanging around outside my staircases door, I decided to make a mad dash to my room, where, a collection of items had been placed blatently covered in contact poison (including a dinosaur covered in poision sticking out my lock). These provented me from hiding in my room and gaining access to those all important weapons. Suddenly, Biggles burst in to my corridor and opened fire. I blame the alcohol for making me use the "in out" board right in front of him... silly me!
Biggles is thus made wanted for abuse of contact poison. Redemption will require the deaths of two of his targets, or one wanted criminal.
Having been thoroughly disappointed by the absence of my previous target, I skuled off to find my nearest alternative: Chesney at Selwyn. Upon arriving in old court, a small grey cat escorted me around the courtyard as I looked for L staircase. I could almost feel the cat laughing at me as I walked around from A case to G. I soon found out why because next to G case is A case. Damnit! So wheres L got to? Time to employ the knowledge of locals. I was soon pointed in the direction of Cripps Court.
For those of you who have not visited Selwyn, Cripps Court has a 3M high fence around it. And the last person to scale it was caught on CCTV and deaned (I only discovered this after my adventure). Anyway, I did not do such a plainly silly thing as the porters were patrolling the area. I walked around the whole court. All the doors have key locks. And not a soul in sight that appears to be willing to open a door for me. Foiled Nearly. A second pass around the court reveals certain weaknesses in the security of the court, one in broad street light, the other in a nice dark corner close to the cloister and away from suspecting eyes. Once inside I proceeded to find L case. Convenient In/Out board I thought. I knock anyway and listen intently for the loading of rubber bands nothing. Okay time for plan B. I took my poisoned Letter and slipped it under the door. I was about to leave when I had an idea. I took a conveniently to-hand Veloceraptor and jammed its tail in Chesneys door lock that should make it a little angry I collected my equipment and start to leave. As I leave the stairwell, I notice it is bar throw out time. So I stand outside texting while a few people walk past. After a few seconds, a passing gentleman took a double take at me and hurried inside towards the In/Out board. He flicks the 4th in/out tab and turns to his corridor. THATS HIM! I pocketed my phone and headed for the stair well door, priming my flame thrower as I go. From mere steps behind my target I glance through the glass door to his corridor and see the puzzled look creeping across his face as he examines the snarling beast with its tail caught in his door lock. Two steps more, my flamer is raised and my hand is pushing the door open. The look of bewilderment turns to OH S**T! as the flames engulf him. Shame.
I am reporting in deceased due to the unwanted attentions of 'the pheonix'. I wandered next door for a chat and found a familiar face among the crowd, my expression soon changed from joy to despair when 'Judas' drew a huge choppern from his coat. In vain I scrambled for my handy arm rifle, but all my practice was too slow when the time came, and the gun was barely out of my sleeve by the time my life blood drained away on the floor. The party rather went downhill I feel.
Poor Sam Lees. The Phoenix has many friends in this life, but even more in the next it would seem. Not above the ritualistic killing of a fellow college comrade, I was the Judas to his Jesus, the Brutus to his Ceasar. Moments after receiving the news of my next target I set off for his room, only to find it vacant. But no matter, I simply waited, and it was not long before he returned. Bounding up the stairs, and pleased to see me, he came to tell me the news of his day:
"My brother just opened a poisoned letter that was meant for me." Said he.
"Oh no, how terrible!" Said I.
"Now he's dead."
"And so are you!"
Remoreselessly I plunged a knife into his chest. The look of surprise on his face, and the utter shock at my betrayal will not be an image I will soon forget. But The Phoenix would perform one last right to honour the death of a good friend. Crouching low over his prone body, I carved upon his head my mark, the mark of the immortal, master of darkness and shadow, Judas the betrayer, the flaming bird, the mark of The Phoenix....
Assassins are reminded that getting innocents to open their mail is an offence punishable by death.
Define the Dead Nature, D:
D(A) A Assassins Alive(A)
Observe that:
Bombed(Door(A)) Opened(Door(A)) D(A)
Now, show that Bombed(Door(Sarah Tang)) D(A).
(20 marks.)
Awaiting outside his lecture, my trusty RBG at the ready, I liberated his mind from its mortal shell. What delight I took in the surprise on my enemy's face, the incomprehension and terror as his crumpled body slumped to the floor.
Lt J Parker
I wandered round to the home of
It took me ages to get to
Byeee!
Mary-Kate!
I emerged from canteen dinner today almost in coma due to the high concentration of un-cookedness, and somehow thought it would be a good idea to check my pigeon-hole. Having staggered the short distance to the plodge, I looked in my pigeon-hole and thought "oooh, I got a book" and then "umm maybe it's a mail-bomb". I tried to disarm it but in my post-canteen-lunch state I was capable only of detonating it. There was a massive explosion and I was blown apart where I stood. Maybe I will be served up for dinner tonight ...
After my failed bombing attempt yesterday, I felt like another try at Chris Korek. When i got to his room I was preparing to knock when I noticed the door was slightly open. Where's the fun in getting into a room already open. But I burst in anyway and exchanged fire with RBGs. I craftily dodged his shots and shot him in the groin.
Tragically Chris Korek was gunned down today when complete strangers burst into his room. despite trying to return fire his strength failed and the assassin 'He who trips and falls over his own feet' went on his way to the next meeting.
Approaching the targets door, I used my charm as an officer to persuade three delightful young ladies to show me to Gabriel's room. I was introduced to him, but instead of the greeting he expected I began firing. Despite my years of training, he ran like a coward, but I caught up and shot him for the snivelling wretch he was, while he cowered, quite literally, in his wardrobe.
For it is written in the Book of Assassin ...
For if thou is muchly engaged in the divine worfhip or fudy, and has not the time to visiteth thine targets in the perfon, then thou canft fendeth the poifoneth letter.
Thou needeft to createth a letter, and filleth it with thine poifon, and then getteth it to thine target. Thou canft put it in yon hole of pigeon, giveth it to the porterlie perfon, or useth thine poftman.
If thine target is muchly lacking in the divine paranoia, then they mighteft openeth thine letter without the preparation which beth proper for fuch a letter, and cometh into the contact with the moft deadlie poisin. Then they willft dieth, and they beth fo lameth.
I was wondering around college checking that there was no suspicious wonderer were about. Then being relieved with finding none, i casually walked to the pigeonhole and found a white enveloped letter with my name written clearly but mispelled. Now, I was deep in thought about the origin of the letter when innoncent student comes in to the room and picks up the letter that i had left on the table. I being cunning, just nodded and gave a brief encouragement as he opened the letter. As the content of the letter, spilled on to his hand, he clapsed on to the floor cursing me for his stupidity. There he found deadly substance called S.A.L.T. - Seriously Awesome Life-threatenning Toxin. Well am i wrong to have been curious of the effect of the poison?
For causing the death of an innocent,
I was slightly dismayed to realise that my remaining targets all resided in colleges quite a long way away. I was more surprised when I saw I was expected to assassinate the fourth Duke of Norfolk, especially since he was executed in 1572. Nonetheless, if he needed killing again, then I was the man for the job.
I got a convenient bus to Girton and promptly got lost for fifteen minutes trying to find a way into the fortress-like complex, then a further ten trying to find his room. I also immediately realised I should have brought a bomb, given that he lived in room C4. At any rate, I eventually located the room, and saw that there were some English-related notes poking out from under the door.
This has to have been the worst-prepared attmempt in history. While I had a vast arsenal of weaponry with me, I had no contact poison, and nothing with which to make a bomb. I improvised with a poison letter I had originally prepared for someone else, and shoved it in the notes. Packing my bag again, I realised this was never, ever going to work. Far better to sit and wait.
Lurking in the nearby bathroom, I took out "The Agricultural Revolution in England (The transformation of the agrarian economy 1500-1950)", which really is as fascinating as it sounds, and began to read. I had scarcely read for ten minutes when I heard voices approaching. Could this be the target? It was.
He didn't really stand much of a chance. He was standing in front of his door, hands full of papers and fumbling with his keys, talking to someone else, as I walked past and knifed him in the back. Booya! My mission complete, I returned home...
I know exactly where I went wrong here. I knew what the mistake was even as I made it. I should have returned home like I said, instead of making a hubristically cocky attempt on another target, especially the only one on the list who actually appeared to be competent in any way. But I was fine; I was carrying virtually all my weapons, I'd just proved that I wasn't that incompetent, I was doing great.
Credit to
When he failed to respond, I got out of there as fast as possible, and made
it about halfway down the street before there was a sudden movement behind
me. I spun, alas too slowly, as
I should have known he was an evil stalker killer fan right from the start, I guess.
Despite the beauty of my would be assassin Ashley Olsen, i Dakeyras did not dither nor gawp slack-jawed, but rather plunged a knife between her shoulder blades as soon as i had the opportunity.
I had been sat in my darkened room for a week now. Plotting, scheming, dreaming of the day when there would be no more Windows users. I can see it now...The linux penguin dancing on the mutilated body of Bill Gates. Bill Gates: my arch-enemy. The time will come when I rid mankind of this scum. But first I had lectures to attend. I walked into the mailroom to see what primitive "letters" I had received. Immediately, my windows scum sensors were tingling. There, in my pigeonhole, was the Worst Poisoned Letter Ever. It had all the hallmarks of a windows user. The shoddy, disjointed scrawl masquerading as handwriting for starters. The envelope was bulging with poisononous matter. I sighed, marching back to my room for my protective handwear. The ultimate evidence was inside. The letter was dull. Standard poison letter disclaimer and nothing else. It showed all the imagination, wit and style of the average Windows user. It embodied their conventionality and inefficiency. Angrily, I destroyed the "dangerous letter". I then continued to plan my quest, the provocation fuelling me into a plotting frenzy. THEY WILL ALL DIE!!! REDEEM YOURSELF NOW, OR FACE MY WRATH!!! REMEMBER, THERE IS NO WORSE CRIME THAN USING WINDOWS!!!
After not a little searching I managed to find the entrance to Pembroke College.
I found my target's room, whose door was ajar, and knocked.
"Come in" he called.
As last words go, I've heard better.
I sitting in my darkened room, contemplating the best method of killing people from the opposite end of Cambridge, the darkness enveloping me. There was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" I called in a strange high voice, carefully tempered by years (well about 48 hours) of absolute paranoia. There was no answer. This meant only one thing to me. I jumped out of the window, carrying one of my favorite (cardboard) daggers, and ran around to take the evil blaggards by surprise. I met them as they were leaving, my killer (a girl) carrying a war axe. Suddenly my knife seemed a little futile. She threw the axe at me which I dodged using the McHenzie tequinique I had practised so thourghly. As she ran to get her wepon, I stebbed her in the back, like a true murderer. So died a Kate McDonal (I think that was her name). I had a chat with her still moving corpse afterwards.
I went to try to end the life of
Finding myself on the wanted list, I set out to redeam myself. Arriving at
No letter this time, but a one Biggles tried to kill me with a flamethrower. However he hadn't bargined on a homemade-catapult, and a decoy rattling of locks... Sufice to say he was dispatched, and, ever the Gentleman Assasin, even helped clear up the Scorch marks, from where his Rigor-Mortified hands had pressed down upon the trigger.
This evening I thought I'd try a bit of amateur explosives engineering. I settled myself down in Borders with a cup of coffee and a bombmaking kit and crafted "The Contraption", a carefully made and tamper resistent bomb.
I then proceeded to deploy said Contraption. The target area isn't one of my favourite locations, and I had not previously scouted out that particular bit of it.
Alas,
Unfortunately
I died.
Johnathan Amary came to my room to shoot me.
His gun didn't work.
Such incompetence! He really did not deserve to stay alive.
So I shot him with a gun that did work.
It was unfortunate that as Mr Other approached his landing he espied two unfamiliar figures looking through his spy-hole. When the afore-mentioned pair became aware of his presence, they walked away claiming to be looking for his next-door neighbour. Mr Other waited behind a wall, for their inevitable doubling-back. The following events are best described as "Slash-Groan-Arghh-Sorry."
They were nice people.
Creeping slowly up to his door and drawing my gun. I charged in. Unfortunately he had taken the precaution of locking this door so the only result was a bruised arm and a lot of noise. I waited outside in case he decided to investigate the commotion but instead he stayed safely locked in his room. Cursing my lack of subtlety, I slipped away resolving to try another day
Sergei Trofimov, having survived the bomb planted by me, was not ready for me in the bar when i stabbed him in the back. He has been assassinated.
To clear his name Skeletor decided it was time to start his rampage, ill prepared and slightly drunk. With 3 accomplices in tow Skeletor arrived at Johannes Nordstrom's room and started to attach his detonators. The rustling, creaking floor boards, laughter and general riot outside the room alerted Johannes, who sprang out of his room to face the guns of skeletor. Elastic flew in all directions, but hit no-one. Realizing Skeletor was strong, Johannes retreated to his room and bided his time. Skeletor however slowly finished attaching detonator number 1, then went to the other side of the room to prime detonator number 2. Thinking Skeleton's back was turned, Johannes sprang from the room armed now with a water pistol, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the explosion. Skeletor only got a mild suntan.
While Skeletor considered his good fortune, Johannes cursed his luck, realizing he was not only dead but locked out for the night.
Skeletor and some accomplices turned up outside my room, and Skeletor started planting a bomb on my door. I opened my door, rubber bands were exchanged, but we couldn't determine whether anyone had been hit. So I readied a water gun instead. Skeletor fiddled some more with the bomb on my door but didn't seem to be done, so I opened the door and fired. Unfortunately it turned out that he was finished, and hence so am I.
This game immediately struck me as one suited to my highly-developed skills. I was somewhat disappointed, therefore, when the Umpire ruled that my infinite supply of inflatable bombs would be banned. Something about unfair advantages, and the possibility of actually killing someone. Up to that point I'd thought that was the idea, but the Umpire enlightened me in a somewhat hasty and panicked fashion.
In any case, I decided to go back to the good old days of the alpha, when I'd crash regularly and had to make my own bombs. I also picked up a student who wished to learn the fine art of bombing from someone of my advanced experience. The number of teenager-hours I have spent laying bombs is quite staggering. I decided to start him off with the basic lesson that complication is not necessary, and demonstrated a simple yet elegant bomb, leaving it outside the door of one of my targets. Setting a bomb of that type is quite tricky when your hands are spherical and shiny, mind you.
Actually getting to the target's room was not as simple as I had expected,
the perimeter being locked until an unsuspecting kind stranger let
us in. After that point, though, the rest was almost as easy as destroying
a brick wall.
I have been... bounced. By a very clever (albeit cowardly) assassin. I got up in the morning, opened my door cautiously, gun in hand, and... bang. It's a good thing you didn't stick around.
Good luck to my (former) targets. May you live to bounce another day.
Stalu ond Cwalu reflecteced at the newpapers, ond heared no woe from the woemens. But then they heared that the devisings of grate cunniningnesses had cased indeeds muches woe, ond that one weeman was deadded, not the one they aimeding the devise at, but hey, whose countings mated?
Of coarse, now Stalu is knowing this devisings is effeftive, ond what could rests at onlie one deaf? again musts the devisings be loosed! so Stalu ond Cwalu sneakled ond peakled at a denlie den of much veil, veiled in darkinessnss as it was - for it was the denlie den of the threes, ond it was boltied down so nine coulded enters, but not Stalu ond Cwalu. After manie smites of thee grate portails, one of the nine openeded saided portail, ond sneakily ond silens as a sneakily silens thing Stalu ond Cwalu did slippings did do.
After manie sneakilings ond manie tippippings ond manie slinkleings didst Stalu ond Cwalu finded thee portail of one of thee nine of the denlie den of thee three. Feelsing much nausiousness at alls thee mathsematicalings didst Cwalu slinkingst back as Stalu deviced the settinings of the devise of profuses deviousings on thee portail, ond then didst they bugger off with hastinessings befour the mathsmaticalings didst devourest them.
It had come to our attention that, although the scholar Paul Fox believed himself to be one of our number, our records showed that he had not fully complied with all college regulations.
Using a Computing Service issue knife, we rectified the issue via the back interface to his body.
Yours truely has escaped without injury two poisoned letter attempts from:
1) two nearly dead fish - Careful analysis of substance reveals high levels of infertility powder, sealing off the gene pool of any unweary recipient (not my good self)
2) her jennyness - forensic investigation reveals what seems to include microbiological insurgents, which if allowed to come into contact with skin burrow inside the victim and liquidize his/her insides to the consistency of soup. My hamster gave its life for this experiment (but did end up going very well with bread and croutons).
The lab people await with baited breath any further analyitical opportunities
Dear Sir
I made a preliminary attempt at inhuming our client today, and although regrettably the client is still vital, I feel sure that this business relationship will have a successful conclusion. However, there is a small matter of a few minor outstanding expenses. Normally I'd hate to trouble you for such trifling details, but in the interests of keeping everything in order:
Hotel fees - B#6690.00
Sundry living expenses - B#852.78
Transport - B#3141.52
Payments to elected officials - $1,000,000
Wear and tear - B#588.31
Ammunition (0,762mm) - B#119.99
Explosives (350,000kg HMX/RDX) - B#free
Liberated Soviet plutonium - 75cl 40% distilled petrol
Paid informers - $10
Services received - B#98,543.72
Bandwidth use - B#153,144.23
Out-of-court settlement with RIAA - $4000 and 1 immortal soul
Badger tax - B#26,450
Attempting to plant a bomb on $TARGET'S door and getting caught in the act - Priceless
It was such a lovely day today that I thought I'd make it even better by indulging in a little violence. I hear that my target may be in the vicinity of town this afternoon, so I wander in. There is my target, wandering down the road without a care in the world.
I catch up with him, draw my weapon and shoot swiftly. He's certainly dead, so I take the oppurtunity to check that he is, indeed, Chris. He replies "Yes", and all is well and good until the person next to him says, "You are aware you've just shot the umpire...?"
Unfortunately,
One man deserves the credit,
One man deserves the blame,
And Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky is his name!
One man sent a card,
One man's reports are all the same,
And Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky is his name!
Oi!
I had exactly one hour before the start of an important party meeting- exactly enough time to get to Wolfson and take out that irritating wanted criminal. This was sure to go down well with the public! As I arrived in the corridor, I heard frantic movement from behind Suzy's door- so she was in. I didn't think she'd be stupid enough to leave her door unlocked though, so trying the handle would be a silly thing to do. A Conservative might, but you'll have to get up earlier than that to catch me out! In a moment of incredible cunning, even for me, I opened and shut the corridor door again, so she'd think I'd gone. I'm brilliant, I really am.
I then proceeded down the corridor to lurk in the toilet/bathroom. Disaster! My foe had dispatched a Suspicious Neighbour to deal with me, and I was still holding the gun! I hid the gun behind my back, and made some excuses along the lines of being an MEP and not having to stand here and be interrogated by a Europhilic who-the-hell-are-you-anyway THE CAMBRIDGE POLICE FORCE IS A LEGITIMATE POLITICAL PARTY!!!!! The conversation was going on far too long for my liking; I could almost see the headlines: "MEP found in toilets with dodgy man." Then I realised it- this was none other than a Conservative plant to discredit me! I walked past the Neighbour and made for the exit as quickly as possible. There was movement behind me and I turned in case he was trying to take me from behind. Alas! Too slow! He cruelly gunned me down.
Thus died the hope of England, the noblest and greatest of her sons, the best chat-show host in the world, etc. etc.
As I emerged from my room with the intent to make myself a nice cup of tea, I noticed a peculiar gentleman standing in the door-frame of the bathroom. When asked for his purpose in this place, he explained that he was looking for a friend of mine. I replied that said friend was not in, and asked if he wanted to leave a message. At that point, he however decided to make his exit. As I walked down the corridor behind him, I realised that he was indeed holding a rubber band gun in his hand. Needless to say, I was not pleased by this armed intrusion, AND SO I SHOT HIM ANDSHOTHIMAGAIN INTO LITTLE LITTLE PULPY PIECES AND THEN I STOMPED ON THEM AND GIGGLED.
Only then the pulp told me that it had in fact been Mr. Thomas Booth, Police Constable. Oh dear, I pulped the sheriff.
I arrived at a society meeting and met someone I hadn't seen before. He asked me many questions about my name, college and subject, before stabbing me. I pointed out that, although the society's activity had not yet started, the preparation was part of the meeting, and hence I was out of bounds.
This put us in the rather awkward situation of knowing that one of us was targetting the other. He suggested a duel to settle the matter immediately. After some discussion with another assassin, I nervously agreed to duel with him. Snapdragon offered to umpire.
We took a sword each and stepped outside. Snapdragon suggested I remove my coat to make it easier to tell if I was hit, so I did so, removing my XP. At this point, he revealed his RBG. We agreed to fight with swords only.
It was a close duel, with limb losses on both sides, but I just managed to win.
Well done to Chris for making an effort and being a good sport, and I hope he will play again. Thanks to my college father, Chris Wood, for assisting him in his attempts(!)
I woke up early that morning to the sound of the postman delivering my shiny new RBG. "hmm..." I thought, "what better way of celebrating my new gun than brutally mowing down one of my targets?" This thought in my mind, I set off that evening to a society meeting I knew my target Martin Lester would have to attend. I managed to locate my target through some subtle questioning and was ready for the kill shot when a thought crossed my mind, "I'm here, most likely other assasins are here too..." I decided that the best way to put Martin out of his misery would be with a quick stab to the heart. Less chance of another assasin shooting me in the back after the deed was done. I quickly stabbed martin only for him to respond, "You know this is a society meeting? Therefore out of bounds...so i'm still alive!" Sure enough we were in a society meeting room although I had been hoping that seeing as the meeting was not due to start for another 10 minutes I could make a legal kill.
Rather than enter a long protracted argument (which I suspected I would lose) or both spend the rest of the evening waiting for the other to leave the room first I sugested that we go outside and have a duel armed with a couple of convienently available swords. Eventually Martin agreed to this and we proceeded outside under the protection of a tempory no-kill agreement acommpanied by a small crowd of interested spectators.
As we waited to start, I noticed that Martin was wearing a coat with suspiciously large pockets, large enough to potentially conceal some form of projectile weapon. I wasn't too upset by this as I had concealed on my person my shiny new RBG and fully intended to shoot Martin the moment the duel started. If he had the same plan then at least we were both cheating equally. As it turned out I wasn't the only one to have noticed Martin's large pockets and an onlooker suggested that he remove his coat "so we can tell if the sword makes contact or not." Martin did so, reluctantly removing a water pistol at the same time. Since Martin had been forced to reveal his weapon I felt bad at concealing mine (Mainly because he could have shot me in the time it would have taken me to draw it.)
At this point it was sensibly suggested that we restart the duel but this time actually use the swords we were holding. We then tapped our swords together took one step back and began.
Martin was the first to make a succesful strike successfully severing my left arm. Since this process was so enjoyable for me I decoded to return the favour and removed one of his arms leaving us both equally matched. My fortunes then took a turn for the worse when Martin managed to remove my right arm as well. In a last desperate lunge I clamped my sword between my legs and hopped menacingly towards him. Alas I was unsuccessful, as Martin managed to remove my legs following up with a fatal stab through the heart. After my brutal death I hung around for a while and had a chat to my killer who turned out to be a very nice person indeed.
The police force decided they needed some help from some concerned members of the public, also they had lots of guns which might make the difference between some of the SWAT Team dying and the wanted person dying. We had recieved reports of an armed force defending the wanted criminal so decided that maximum force was the way to go. We considered a softly softly approach but rapidly discarded that in favour of a mass, heavily armed raid, killing anything that looked suspiscious. Constables White Rabbit and Canteen Food (surely a deadly combination) and myself were joined by the members of the public and we set out for our secondary meeting point.
There we met a very suspicious looking character who despite this turned out to be the Umpire who was there to ensure that we didnt do anything too wrong. This meant that out tactic of finding the evidence after the killings would have to be toned down a little.
We arrived at Wolfson Court and headedfor the targets room, dispatching a small force round the long way to ensure our backs were covered. Assassins appeared on the floors above leading the SWAT Team to move quickly to the targets room. Finding the door to be locked we set a cunning bomb to ensure her much hilarity if and when she returned. Leaving a small force to defend that area we then proceeded to clear much of the building and only scaring a few 'innocents'. After a brief stroll through the bar (They serve Tetleys! No wonder all the inhabitants wanted to die) we managed to get back passed the porters and headed to Jesus for our second target.
We quickly located the room inhabited by Ellie and cleared the entire staircase. No sign of anyone anywhere. After some debate as to whether there actually was anyone in the room we decided to check out the Bop that was going on. Realising we coudl hardly recognise ourselves in that darkened den of filth we hit upon the cunning strategem of persuading the DJ to give a shoutout to the target, thus making him aparent, thus making him dead. The shout out went out. Nothing happened. All the assassins scattered throughout the bar collected again and decided to call it a night.
Still noone on the SWAT Team died, which has to be good.
Destination: Wolfson Court
Target: A Rabid Pigeon
Armaments: Numerous and excessive
Handcuffs: Present, correct, pink and fluffy
Running through corridors waving guns: Yes, often in entirely wrong
directions.
Being photographed during above: Yes, by at least four people.
Bombing door: Well, we don't know the result yet...
Actually getting act together and killing people: Er... no.
Destination: Jesus
Target: Ellie
Armaments: Also excessive.
Amount of weapons trained on target's door: Pretty much everything we had.
Attendance of random nearby parties: Well, why not? It didn't get us
anywhere though.
Actually getting act together and killing people: Er... maybe... well, no.
A summons from the Chief of Police is not something to be taken lightly, but, after ensuring a no-kill was in place, I gathered my not-affiliated-but-at-the-same-college acquaintances and proceeded to Chez Dunky's for the briefing. The aim? To proceed, heavily armed, to Wolfson Court and eliminate the resident felon and any armed resistance. Unfortunately, though, the Umpire had somewhat preempted us and told them that shooting at police for bearing was a Bad Thing, but we still got to run around and scare random Girtonians, leaving a bomb in the process.
The next item on the agenda was the pub, but time flies when you're having fun and we were just leaving at about 2250 - ten minutes before last orders at a bar 15 minutes away. There was, however, another possible target - at Jesus.
Once at Jesus we lurked the target's room for a while, until we decided that he wasn't going to come out and be shot. We headed round to the bop in case he was a social type, but since we didn't know what he looked like we had to come up with a ploy. Our token eye-candy, Lauren, requested that the DJ shout out his name, and tempt him up to the front to meet her, where we'd stab him. Either the bait wasn't good enough, though, or he wasn't there, as Lauren was left standing.
Eventually the lack of killing and alcohol took it's toll, and the team started to dissipate - maybe next time we'll have a little more success.
21:00 - Collected equipment for a raid. 21:15 - Arrived, undisclosed assembly point. 21:30 - Completed construction of 2L bomb. 21:45 - Met up with the rest of the raiding party. 22:00 - Moved off to forward staging point. 22:10 - Arrived, forward staging point. 22:15 - Entered Wolfson Court. Party advanced pincer movement. 22:20 - No answer. Target's door bombed. 22:30 - Repeated scouting. Circuitous exit. 22:40 - Call it a night and decide to go to pub.
"Steeeve assassins on the stairs!" came the cry down the corridor. I grabbed some guns and grenades and ran out onto the landing. I could instantly see it was a SWAT raid - they were following standard, tried and tested police tactical doctrine: Send in Alex Labram first to use up their ammo. He was standing two floors below me looking up at the large crowd of "innocent" people assembled on the landing asking politely if any of us had guns, while quite openly bearing two of his own. It took all the willpower I had to not water bomb him.
Knowing their primary target at least would be the wanted criminal on the ground floor I crept down a little further and spied an Umpire (rather glad I didn't drop the bomb now). I moved back upstairs and phoned a friend. We met on the upstairs corridor and discussed our options, but as the wanted one was safe in her room we opted for the lazy approach, and went back to hang around cautiously on the stairs. In the meantime a non-playing denizen of my corridor had attempted to water bomb the Umpire and co., but only succeeded in soaking himself.
Eventually the full force of the SWAT team (most in fact not police) turned up and were photographed extensively and in poor focus. Among them the Chief of Police himself, Russ Williams, Lauren and a load more others I didn't recognise/remember, all armed to the teeth. Oh and AbF not bearing weapons and trying to look non-shifty, but being in decidedly the wrong company for it. Eventually they got bored, planted a bomb (later detonated harmlessly) and left. Dave and I followed them out, wherupon someone expressed a wish to handcuff me and the Chief of Police took a bad photo of me and went to the pub, mission accomplished.
It had been a busy day. First I had gunned down two important people (one rather more deliberately than the other) and survived two police raids on my corridor. One policeman I didn't even know about until Robert Standing introduced me to his corpse. All I saw of the second raid were three people running away from my corridor. Terribly fast. I feel loved.
The third and final wave of police were a little more effective. At 10pm, I heard scuffling outside my door, and some of my friends talking. Nothing unusal about this, but there did seem to be more people there than just friends, and voices I didn't recognise. More scuffling. They knocked, but considering all the possibilities, I decided opening the door would be a Bad Thing and decided to wait until the coast was clear.
Once all the voices had gone away, I attempted to open the door with string, from behind my bomb shelter. But alas! The tape holding the latch down had failed, so the door wouldn't budge. I jumped out of my window and climbed in a friendly neighbour's. Unsurprisingly, I found a bomb outside my door (blast radius four metres), which must have been set by an assassin aiding the police force.
First I yelled at the Innocent in my room to get behind the bomb shelter, and then I defused the bomb by pivoting a large stick around a reel of cable, and then pulling the stick with string tied to a five-meter monitor extension lead. The blast left lots of debris, but no-one was harmed.
Run rabbit run
dig that hole, forget the sun
and when at last the work is done
don't sit down, it's time to dig another one
for long you live and high you fly
but only if you ride the tide
and balanced on the biggest wave
you race towards an early grave
What an exciting SWAT raid we had this evening. I'm sure our glorious leader will have reported it in depth. However, indulge me and allow me to embellish it with full orchestration and five part harmony:
An early evening foray by the Chief, myself and one assassin, who shall remain nameless, into Girton for reconnaissance purposes swiftly determined that it was indeed a fortress populated by evil gun-toting types. Despite this, we bravely cobbled together a ridiculously large group and descended upon the G-men armed with RBGs of all sizes and hoping for a good chance to use our prized (pink, fluffy) handcuffs.
My assumption, based on casualty rates of previous SWAT raids (editor's note: do we actually have 'Special Weapons and Tactics'?), was that this was essentially a suicide mission - so I happily bounced down the corridor with all my rabbit bounicness - half tempted to sing Jefferson Airplane were it not for our giggle-filled attempt at silence. For some unknown reason, several of the others felt confident enough to follow my insane one-man (read: bait) reccy charges. Presumably they were interested in the bathymetry of the rabbit hole...
Alas, despite a strategically-unparralleled plan to approach the room of the despicable 'Suzie' employing a Scipionic pincer movement, we were frustrated to find that the G-men were armed solely with cameras. Nonetheless, at least our valour (minus the discretion) was caught on film for posterity and we got to leave Suzie a 2-litre present.
There were later fun and games to be had when we gatecrashed the Jesus Halloween fancy dress party dressed as.you guessed it.assassins. A good time was had by all, especially those of us chained up in the kinky pink, fluffy handcuffs, but that's a different story.
Kills:0
Deaths:0
Subtlety Factor: 35%
Amusement Value: 76%
WARNING Please be aware of a dodgy man in a black hat last seen in the environs of Wolfson Court. Appearance: simian.
29th October 2004:
Calories: Multiple
Murders: 0
Weapons: An RBG, RBF and a knife.
Alcohol Units: Depressingly little.
8pm: Had an awful unproductive day. Went home to find washing on floor and no clean crockery. Smug married friends all out. I checked my phone and still no word from any of my many potential dates. Fuckwits! Ended up reading Guns And Ammo. Really fancied the full camoflage catsuit but bloody thing would make me look fat. Saw some nice soldier types though. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Looked at the intellectual books. They are sooooo dull. I hate having nobody to go on killing sprees with and all my friends are busy. And to make things worse, nobody had been to get me. I continually check my door for bombs. It's like Valentine's Day every bloody day. FUCKWITS!Am unloved my assassins, nobody ever comes to get me. Hate being so old. Lots of people came after me when was young fresher assassin. Still, I won't be eaten by an alsatian at least. Unless somebody licences one. I should go and do some work.
9.25pm Why, why, why is everyone else having fun except for me? Am social pariah among a group of social pariahs! Is so bloody typical. Should have just gone out on own but society is against lone female killers. Should just learn to make the first move and go and kill somebody instead of waiting for them to come to me. Oooooooooh! Private message! Yay, am not a social pariah afterall. Now where is gun?
9.35pm Bollocks. Can't find keys or shoes. But friend has set me up with a guy called In-Kwon Choi. Maybe I won't mess up this relationship by killing them...But then again, it's just so much fun. Oh though, have to go and console female friend Suzy first. She's been a little mixed up recently. Got involved with two men, the silly girl. Shot both of them and people don't like two timing. I think I'll have to teach her a lesson not to two time. Men might be fuckwits but you can't do that them. Hmmmm think I'll wear my black coat and go for composed and classic serial killer look. Lovely.
Sometime after midnight.
Hmmph! The bastard stood me up! What an absolute fuckwit! Hate all men. Got all dressed up in my nice black coat and polished my gun especially. I even went round to wear he lived to see if he was ill or something. Am big believer in euthanasia and such a nice woman. But he was hiding or wouldn't come out. Walked through Jesus and saw lots of young freshers in fishnet tights. Am so old, can feel my face caving in. Jealous of freshers and youth. Horrible thought. What if he was with someone else? I was going to cry but then I thought sod it, I'll just murder him in cold blood. Went to the bar and put on most charming smile. Asked DJ to send him to the booth. He didn't turn up...Am useless and unattractive. Am doomed. Will never get to kill anyone at this rate. And I'm lovely, I would have given him a nice quick death too.
Suzy being really stupid too. Me and boys went round to cheer her up and tell her about the importance of 'choosing' the right man but she was sulking in her room. You just can't help some people. Going to bed now. V.tired. Suppose running round with assassins was v.fun but as usual, it all ended up amounting to nothing. Going to bed now.
Onion! Onion! Onion!
Pineapple!
Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky was his name!
Oi!
Woytek, who had as yet been untroubled by any murder attempts, passed his pigeonhole and found a letter, hand-addressed to "Woytek". Hmm, thought Woytek, suspicious; luckily for Woytek, his good friend Tom was in an impatient mood, and taking the letter from him, tore it open and dropped dead on the spot. May he rest in peace. The letter contained a dark powder not unlike brown sugar: a disappointingly incompetent attempt by 'A. Sassin' (and not even an original pseudonym).
Call received from nextdoor neighbour alerting me to presence of a bomb outside my door this morning. Luckily did not prove necessary as I had not spent that night in my room anyway. Returned to find standard 2 litre coke bottle + sprung cap device wedged under door. Blast radius was 4.2 metres and so string was borrowed from a sympathetic source down the hall. Over five metres was spooled out, one end attatched to the wire holding the clip, and the other in my hand as I sheltered in a room over 5 metres away. A bang was heard as I pulled the clip from under the door, disarming the device. Lord Striker cordially invites the would-be assassin to 'come get some'.
G.I. Bob was sitting idly in his office when he received a message from his commander, telling him to stop being lazy and do some work for once. He suddenly realised that he hadn't tried to kill any of his targets for nearly five days!
So what did G.I. Bob do? He sought out the lair of the nearest target to his headquarters, and left a high explosive device on their door. He saw one of his neighbours, but fortunately, being very small, he was able to avoid detection.
His mission complete, G.I. Bob returned to his office to play with paper clips.
I woke up this morning to find a parcel in my pigeon hole. This made my little heart skip with glee as I thought of the WMD i'd ordered a little while ago. However, it turns out someone had tried to bomb me. But unfortunately for them I saw the rather large words on the bottom before I even tried to open it. Then with my bomb disposal kit (Sissors and a pen) I successfully poked holes in the side until I saw two detanator wires attatched to the lid. Cunning... I promptley cut them off, and lifted the lid (with my pen) to find a bomb and two rotting apples inside. What were the apples? A failed atempt to posion me; as the box was fairly covered in Apple-Goo? Or, more sinister indeed, the deranged calling card of a baccaphile??
The Umpire would like to say that, while the rules do not explicitly forbid bombs made of rotting fruit, it's Just Plain Weird.
Went to drop the bomb last night, but there were all these silly suspicious people coming out of a Halloween bop all over the court, and somebody standing in the entrance to the staircase. So I took a rather extended trip around the block, and by the time I came back it was much clearer. So I left him a present, very very quietly as I could hear voices from his neighbour's room. Mission accomplished.
While bodyguarding an honourable associate of the assasins guild en route to her room this very afternoon I met my untimely demise. As we entered her room, I noticed a slow movement of the bathroom door handle which was obviously the subversive action of an assasin. Recognizing this I positioned myself against the wall by the door, raising my small 'click' gun.
It was then the assasin moved. She walked calmly out of the bathroom, fooling me into thinking she was just another of our wonderous churchill residents. A second later i noted her twin band guns, which were quickly raised to my head. We fired simultaneously, here insane rapid firing masking the click of my feeble toy gun (yes... i forgot to say bang!). As a consequence for my foolishness (and shockingly cheap armament) i lost my life, taking 16 elastic bands to my head. Our simutaneous deaths saved the life of my associate, so I take a smidge of honour to the grave.
Having persued information on my various targets for several days and knowing everything from what they looked like to their exact subject choices, I thought it was time to make a move. So, remembering the locations from past attempts, I stalked one of my targets from lectures all the way back to their college, keeping a sharp eye out just in case they left the company of their friends. However, my target was determined not to make my life easy, and so I followed, overtaking the group just outside the Porter's Lodge. Quickly making for my target's home ground, I reached it and settled down to wait.
Then the next door neighbour found me. He apologised, saw my gun, and make quick his getaway down the stairs. I swore gently, making a move to another part of the corridor. Watching out the window, I could see my target speedily make towards the direction of the main building, and realised I was trapped - they could be lying in wait for me, now knowing I was there. I stood around, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of a spy-hole in a door, then moved towards the bathroom next to my target's room. Settling down to wait, I peered out the high windows and watched as my target walked back towards the staircase.
But wouldn't it look a bit suspicious to have the bathroom locked? Swiftly I unlocked the door, sitting behind the door in the bath just in case someone opened the bathroom door before I expected it. Soon I heard the target return and armed myself, removing both guns from their various hiding places and checking my knives before stealthily opening the bathroom door.
I crept out in my socks to find a gun in my face, the man behind grinning like a maniac, and no sign of my target. Unhesitatingly, I shot him sixteen times in the head, but at the same time he spied my weapons and shot me at point blank range in the forehead. After all was said and done and both our bloodied corpses lay on the threshold of my target's room, the target in question appeared with a massive grin and bang killed my corpse for good measure.
Then all zombies and living alike headed into the room to have a good chat! And, of course, to pick up scattered ammo that was strewn over the local area. Oh, and to reclaim my shoes.
For the past two days The Phoenix has stalked wanted criminal In-Kwon Choi, the nefarious individual also known as Ellie. But until today he has had little success. Cowering In-Kwon, driven into the deepest depths of paranoia following his hounding by the police swat teams had sat holed up in his room, refusing to answer his door, not daring to venture out (not even for the Halloween bop!)
Now the immortal Phoenix is a malevolent force of darkness, a name synonymous with death, destruction and the most macabre of ritualistic massacre. Certainly not one to uphold the pathetic values of justice and law! So one may well ask, then, just why it was that The Phoenix felt compelled to hunt down a wanted criminal such as In-Kwon Choi! For one, The Phoenix deplores cowardice, and such cowardice as allowing one's friend to open a poisoned letter could not be tolerated. Moreover, he had a girly pseudonym!
So it was, that at a quarter to four in the afternoon, The Phoenix would make one final attempt on the life of Mr Choi. Approaching his room, I could hear movement and music, he was in there. But previous attempts at knocking had failed, so instead The Phoenix stuck a piece of blue tack over his spy hole and lay in wait for him to emerge. It was not long before his friend Alexis turned up, and in that instant, a plan formed in the mind of the wise Phoenix.
Under the ruse of a maths problem for Alexis, we gained entry to In-Kwon's room.
"What are you doing here?" asked the victim.
"I am here to liberate you!" replied the Phoenix
"From what?"
"Life."
"Life?"
"Come, walk with me, let me show you the path to immortality! The road to eternal unlife!"
"Eternal unlife?"
"Some may call it death."
And so In-Kwon Choi was slain, gunned down by a single shot from The Phoenix's custom 'Unlifer'. As the victim slumped to the floor, he mouthed a final word of thanks, grateful that his pitiful existance could finally end. Crouching low over his victim's blood soaked corpse, The Phoenix drew his knife. But there would be no ritualistic honouring this time! No, this coward had earned no such glory in death. So instead, plunging his blade into the chest of his victim, The Phoenix split him open, and devoured his heart....
I returned from my pigeon hole just as two highly suspicious characters were walking in front of me. They enter my staircase and turn an immediate left. i.e. straight towards my room... Anyway's thinking they were after me I headed straight up the stairs, and turning the rail I see one of them has two pistols out. So I quickly fumble in my pocket for a knife, which I hastily throw at him, missing his heart by mere inches. Then a tense game proceeded, with each party nervously waiting for the other to make a move...
Tiring of this stalemate I then go through the loft to arrive at the enterance to the next staircase, to double back and stab them from whence the sun don't shine. However my knife missed again and another stalemate arose. This continued for a few minutes, with both parties watching the other though the glass doors, playing a mental game that makes chess-grandmasters look like mere children.
Parlying once to lower my suspicions the one Lanfear's Fortune or some such, assured me he was after a neighbour. Wanting to get back into my room I signalled for another parley, at which point he killed me, with a bullet straight between the eybrows. He was going for a neighbour after all, so it all seems rather pointless now...
Oh well, one kill/one death, turn and turn about as they say.
My target's room was in sight; my mistress's urgings louder in my head. One more flight of stairs and she would have been mine, but suddenly a dark shape appeared in my peripheral vision. Diving behind a wall my accomplice narrowly avoided the first of the throwing knives, and our assailant fled upstairs. Deciding it to be foolish to follow immediately we bode our time, and were rewarded with another attack - this time from behind us. Seeing our attacker not to be who were were after I spoke to him through a door, asking questions about the target. He was blatantly lying through his teeth, so I opened the door and shot him for bearing when he tried to run away.
Following the brutal murder of In-Kwon Choi, The Phoenix set off
under cover of darkness at around 8pm. Upon arrival at the room of
I had been only back in Cambridge for under two hours when I found myself surrounded by men dressed as ladies, and ladies dressed in a most un-ladylike manner. I chose to get far from the mad crowd by attending another event, and set out on a venture across the river, passing on my way out two shady and secretive individuals. I thought nothing of them until the fatal jet of water stuck me squarely in the back.
Someone left a poisened letter on my door - I opened it with pencils, realised what it was and disposed of it. I touched no poisen, and am NOT dead.
Twas a beautiful morning, and I was up way too early, weaving my way past suspicious porters, preparing most devious explosives, covering every corner, only to be stopped short by a locked door. Silly college.
Getting there was bad enough, but after that I had to find my target's room. After about half an hour of wandering round the labyrinthine corridors, I finally located it, and realised that my plan was never going to work; at least not without killing about a dozen innocents. I considered a while, but I was getting some (understandably) funny looks and, being too chicken to knock on his door (which had a spy-hole) and risk getting shot, tried to find my way out again. By the time I got back to my College, I'd missed lunch.
Good news for all the fans of O-Ren Ishii fans world wide as I brutally murdered Charlotte Heron today. I managed to fool her into opening her door by making her believe that I was a little girl called Jessie. (I can't believe she bought that.) Then, as she opened the door, I stabbed her about 10 times screaming "You're Dead! You're Dead!" and laughed insanely as I watched her collapse and take her final breath. She congratulated me for the successful murder and thanked me for liberating her from the Assassin's Guild which had been taking over her life.
I am no more. I was sat in my room musing over my essay crisis, when what should I hear but a knock on the door. Feeling particully complacent having only just been up and down the corridor and seen no-one, and having had only 1 pretty hopeless attempt on my life this week I collected my bag of assassins goodies and went to open the door. Mistake. O-ren Ishii armed with a knife burst into my room and did stab me in the arm and chest. I fell to the floor and bled to death, before I even had chance to grab my RBG.
Calories: Grease-laden fried breakfast.
Murders: none, can't walk due to the above.
Weapons: RBG, knives, cosh, poisoned lipstick.
Alcohol Units. Sunday is a day of rest/hangovers.
Stalkers: 1 official one, several non-official ones ;)
Yay! Am loved by my assassins. Came back from brunch with the girls and found a lovely little note from O-Ren Ishii! It had some pretty Japanese/Chinese script and a nice little illustration of O-Ren. Picked it up with my silk gloves incase of nasty poison.It seemed to be clean. I'll add with my pile of gifts from my other admirers... But, compliments on such a stylish little note. I do like artists... I might have to come and visit the studio to thank O-Ren in person.
Still bearing the marks from my mistress's dissatisfaction at my previous failure I returned to finish off my target. Passing the rotting corpse of my last victim, my accomplice and I made our way to her room - finding the door wide open. Taking this opportunity I made to enter, only to have the door start to swing shut. Hurrying, I leaned through the gap and dispatched her with my weapon. Such an unfortunate end for so pretty a Novice, however the route to power has no such qualms. My mistress will be ever so pleased...
Whilst working quietly in my room, I was surprised by a knock on my door. After first eliciting that it was a trusted friend, I allowed her entry, but carelessly left the door open. After chatting for several minutes, she deigned to inform me that there were suspicious characters loitering in the vicinity. I decided (somewhat foolishly) to investigate, and was greeted by a bullet in the face. There's always next term...
I returned to my room this evening to find ThePilgrim waiting for me, while hiding in the toilet I summoned help from my trusty accomplice Spongebob who managed to kill her when she revealed her weapon.
It all started at 18:00, when I went out to look for one of my targets. I
patiently waited in his staircase for half an hour, until I heard the door
open and someone walking towards my target's door. The sound of keys. It
has to be him. I ran out of my hiding place and stabbed him in the back
before he could turn around, even shouting "Dead!". The victim turned round
and to my surprise, it was another engineer, someone I even knew, but
didn't recognise in the killing frenzy. He didn't realise at first that I
had stabbed him, but stared in bewilderment at the cardboard knife in my
hand. I explained everything about the game, trying not to make it sound
very weird, and then left. What had I done wrong? Why did I get the wrong
person? Went out of the building and, to my surprise, I had been waiting in
the wrong staircase. Damn it! You're not an arts student, learn to read
numbers! I went to the correct staircase this time, and waited there for my
target. After a while I see Sponge Bob come up the stairs. I didn't
suspect, but moved away from my assassin's door, just in case. I went back
down the stairs and was about to go, when Sponge Bob comes out of the
staircase, hands in her pockets. "Are you looking for
Oooh, a new target. Who lives in the college next door. Unfortunatly I also had an assassin. Who lives in the college next door. Who knew were i was going to be tonight. Who had a knife... Hmmm. At least I can open my door again now.
"So having survived ,concealed in plain sight, in the presence of my target for over two hours whilst we were all handling weaponry of a most violent nature i had lulled my target into a false sense of security. Thus when i lept forwards with a pen to stab him he was rather taken aback and wondered for a few moments what had happened until i enlightened him that in fact the pen was labelled in a most lethal way. Then we went down the pub.
After hanging around the entrance to Pembroke posing as a begger some one came out of the college giving me the perfect opportunity to enter the locked door. Upon entrance, this my 3rd time, i knew exactly where to find my target. I went up the stairs and unholstered my sidearm. I heard movement inside and noticed light shining through the crack in the door. However, upon the exclamation of a "trick or treat" the noise silenced and the occupent refused to open the door. Interogation of a neighbour led to nothing so i left, disheartened, but alive to fight another day.
Lessons for Freshers: Number One, Poison Letters
Poison letters (commonly referred to as BPLs) are unlikely to work unless your target is really quite incautious or inexperienced (hence the acronym, which expands to "bad poison letters"). They may occasionally be worth a try but if something is ever worth doing then it is worth taking the time to do it right. To assist you in this here are some helpful hints:
1. Ensure that the labelling of the envelope is consistent with the method of delivery. A letter with a full postal address which is pushed under your target's door is likely to raise questions before the victim has even picked up the envelope.
2. Write enough waffle at the top of the letter so that, when folded, it appears genuine. This will hopefully lull the target into a false sense of security for long enough for he or she to come into contact with the poison. If the first sentence is 'congratulations, you have just been poisoned', the target is unlikely to be suckered.
3. Ensure that the envelope does not go 'crunch' when prodded. If this is occurring, you are probably using too much poison.
Congratulations on obtaining competence for this week. Next week, we will be looking at persuading the umpire to license your camera with crosshairs painted on it as a sniper rifle.
the knocking repeated.
"Oh, just leave it alone," said Pious, "It's probably another wolf protection racket or something." The door however burst inwards under an almighty crash. There silhouetted in the dank early morning light was a tall slim figure. She strode confidently into the room, about six foot tall, matted blonde hair, and an outfit that suggested recent motorcycling activity. All in black.
"Who the **** are you?" interrogated Nasty.
"I am Haley Black," came the reply, "and I want your help."
"Who's going to pay for this door?" shrieked Touchy, obviously upset. (Somewhere in the attic, Noisy knocked over a bookshelf. Somewhere in the bathroom came the sound of sniffling, and a toilet flushing.)
"Okay, you got our attention," Smarmy cut in, managing to ignore Touchy entirely, and take charge of the situation in one smarmy move, "whaddya want us to do?"
"Ineed a love potion. The sooner the better."
"Lady, we're not in that kind of business any more" Smarmy replied before Sleazy could cut in, (best not to go there,) "You're out of luck."
"Yeah, we're done with all that happy ending crap." Nasty reinforced.
"Shut up and listen, and then whine about your happy endings." Haley countered, "Because there could be something in this for you, if you do your bit."
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