The Assassins' Guild - Week 4 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 4 News
"Okay, now that you're finally listening I'll explain. The stupid prince of the northeast has been put under a spell by the good witch of the upwest... and as such he is now in a deep eternal coma, unless he gets the kiss of true love to awaken him."
"and you want this potion so you can wake him and live happily ever after? no dice. I told you, we don't do that kind of crap." Smarmy cut in, evedently annoying Haley. Noisy knocked over a jenga tower. Sick rushed back into the bathroom, with a queasy look on his face.
"Shut up and listen!" Haley responded "It his own bloody stupid fault in the first place that he's in a coma, and for all I care, he could stay there, but if I wake him, I'll marry him, and then in two years, divorce settlement will give me half the bloody kingdom. That's why I want the potion, and I'm willing to offer you a cut if you help me out."
"Nope, still not interested," Smarmy replied smarmily, "We've had cash windfalls in the past, like when Pious found that pot of gold just lying in a puddle at the end of a rainbow... but it's never done us any good. It all ends up going on lemsip and dirty magazines. It's not worth the effort".
"Okay, well, what do you want then?" Haley enquired
"What we need," Pious responded as Nasty kicked Sleazy somewhere painful to prevent him opening his mouth, "is a regular source of income, not a big lump sum, or a promise of regular payments from some slut of a queen in far off lands..." Haley was getting impatient... she cleared her throat. "What we need... is royalties."
"Yeah," Nasty piped up "Only those goodie-goodie fairy tale characters get all the goods! no-one wants to write stories about seven short pissed off guys living in a house together.
So what do I have to do?
It's simple. We'll write you a list of names, and you can... dispose of them. If they have no characters... they'll have to write about us.
looks like I stayed in bed and let The Seven Dwarves do all the work
After hearing that the JJ-mole had been captured by Bryony, I made my way there. The Umpire was on hand to see summary execution^W^W due procedure carried out. The prisoner was wigged (for health and safety purposes), and then marched outside at gunpoint .
Bryony read out the charges, before dropping a giant boulder onto her head. This was shortly followed by the satisfying splat of justice being done.
Finally, it should be noted that recent research has proved that public executions of this kind are indeed an effective deterrent. It severely deters the criminals from getting caught.
I got a letter in the mail today that came from no clearly discernible source. Accordingly, I treated it with suspicion. Upon inspecting it from the outside I noticed the telltale bulge of a cap detonator, and so swiftly put on my gloves, grabbed two forks, and started dissecting the thing from a distance. I ripped it open and induced the detonator to explode (being careful not to touch the letter). Upon dissecting the letter further I noticed the glitter that had been meant to poison me in case the detonator failed. I did not touch that either. I opened the letter - it began with "If you are reading this you are likely dead." A tad overconfident, are we?
The Quick Brown Raccoon had heard of a naughty policeman in his college. He didn't like to see such a scurrellous type so close. Had he been a squirrellous type it wouldn't have been nearly so bad (although they do insist on trying to compete with raccoons in terms of tail greatness...). As it happened he was really a rabbitous type, and after briefly entertaining the thought of a squirrel/rabbit crossbreed, The Quick Brown Raccoon raccooned him to the other side of the forest.
So I open my door to my enemies
And I ask could we wipe the slate clean
but they tell me to please go f*** myself
You know you just can't win.
I sadly report the death of White Rabbit - upstanding police officer and devotedly loyal to his Chief, DunkyB. Grizzly bear and raccoon his fare. Whilst leaving his den of evil on the way to an evening of virgin sacrifices and killing of the virtuous, he was surprised by what can only be described as a Trinitarian bearing a killer raccoon. Just in case you find the concept of this hard to understand, I have included a graphic rendition of it below. Then again, it gives rise to the old adage:
Dulce et decorum est lotore mori
I'll see you on the Dark Side of the Moon.
I have nothing left to say except, "Laughing is nice. Hahahahahahahaha.!
El nuevo régimen recibió palabra que habían avistado a los oficiales corruptos en Newnham. Nos movimos rápidamente adentro en ellos, sólo encontrarlos habían dejado una nota y algunas galletas el tentar. Innecesario decir, su soborno era inútil contra nosotros. Los perseguimos a Robinson al lado de hallazgo que habían molestado nuestro líder un verdadero. Entonces el rastro fue frío, y volvimos al palacio imperial de Caius al resto y al plan para el día a continuación.
A criminal should know the results of his actions, yes? And what if his actions lead a young, innocent officer to the dark side.. and she dies there. Should others die in his place? Ironic, then, that this lifeless, bouldered body should be his undoing too.
Early in the dark hours, the Light Side of the Force assembles. The body of Kirsty Reger is opened, exchanged, a more potent and explosive corpse resulting. We meet outside Robinson, where our brave leader (woolgars pseudo) takes charge, under his guidance we progress to Burrels, where we take our positions and wait. The first door to open is mine, I grin at the bedder and explain we are on a mission to exorcise the evil from Trinity (its unspoken that this will involve blowing the place up.) Her face lightens at the thought of such freedom, and I summon the rest of La Revolucion into the building. We rest the body against the door, triggered to send them both to hell at first sign of movement. And as we slipped, so softly, back into the morning, I believe, although I can not be sure, that the Fake Exploding Corpse of Kirsty Reger was smiling back.
I met Bryony, Badgergirl and Jonathan Woollgar at the hitherto unseen time of 7:15 in the morning. Bryony had made the corpse of Kirsty into a bomb, which we had brought with us. We proceeded to Burrells Field, and after a long time spent lurking, a rather bemused bedder let us in.
We made our paranoid way to his room, and frightened a neighbour before leaving the bomb propped against his door, before running away^W^W retreating to safety. We lurked a bit more, before heading back, sadly without photos.
Vince failed to see the light. He remains in the dark
Tried to feed the Bannister to the fishes but was unsuccessful. Got all the way to his door - even found an ingenious way to get through the security door for the staircase (under the ruse of helping someone with a wheelchair) but then the muppet was far too unhelpful to aid my campaign and proceeded to be absent from his room. Another attempt bites the dust. Oh well, at least I get the competence right?
Sought out the criminal mastermind in his lair this afternoon, but apparently he was busy in the secret underground laboratory. Either that or he'd gone home for his tea.
The Goblin King went a-lurking,
But his prey was not around,
So he lurked and lurked and lurked some more,
And still he was not found.
Chardmander! CHARD!
Proceeding to the SWAT raid at about 10:00, I discovered El Presidente was dead and the police were cowering like girls. Leading them up the stairs we discovered the nefarious criminal Alex Pavlaki had hidden in his room with some highly dubious "innocents". After a few exchanges of fire, two more police were killed and by 11:00 we had retreated away from the room. Finally, a duel was suggested as a fair way to end the stand off. The surviving SWAT team agreed not to attack Alex. Sadly the police lost in the duel, although the effort was valiant. However, another policeman arrived at about 11:30 and attempted to exectue the wanted criminal. The criminal then began firing randomly at the police. This obviously invalidated any no kill agreement and a firefight across the car park and into the college. One pliceman was killed, but he was no match to a heavily armed SWAt team in a fire fight. I dealt the killing blow with my bare hands (almost).
After dinner in a chinese restaurant that shall remain nameless, badgergirl and I were in Bryony's room when we heard about the raid in Christ's on the Godfather and that El Presidente was dead, so she sent us over with a couple of weapons to help out. We lurked outside his staircase for some time, then after about half an hour we moved up the stairs to threaten his room directly. We had a slight problem in that he had four non-players in his room, and even more who kept turning up and telling him not to open his door. They even removed the blu-tack we stuck to his spyhole. Twice he opened the door and tried to shoot at us. The first time he killed Michael Wallace with a lucky shot over the door, and I plugged one of his accomplices. Then he took out one of my arms in a brief firefight. We retreated again and after some consultation agreed to his suggestion of a duel, knowing that Butternut Creamcakes was on the way with heavy weaponry. After much faffing to buy time, we deployed Oook against The Godfather in a duel, and he was shot down. At this point a very drunk Butternut Creamcakes arrived with a CPS and a XP. We quickly realised he wasn't covered by our no-kill with the Godfather, and they both opened fire, bands going everywhere. Sadly Callum hadn't pre-pumped the water weapons and was quickly killed, but BadgerGirl, Kat and I chased him inside and splattered him on the stairs.
Twas a fairly cold winter's night. i thought i would treat myself to a few hours of maths questions while listening to ultimate cheesey songs when i was rudley interupted by loud bang on my door. "Good god, i mused - what uncouth animal throws stuff at doors? A ha - must be an assassin" and so the stage was set.
Looking through my spyhole i saw a head peering round the stairs at my door. Incompetent too i thought, this should be easy (i think it took them a couple of hours to realise i could see them through my spyhole). Once he disappered i caustiously opened the door, noticing the present i had been left - a sainsbury's ginger beer bomb and the uncouth implement used to knock on my door - a pen. How cunning.
Avoiding the bomb (and taking the pen), i walked to the other side of the landing to look down the stair to inspect the activity below - much scuffling and whispering. Excellent i thought - i can shoot people without having to trek to far out places. Therefore, i shot the first person i saw with my RBG who turned out to be the newly dead White Rabbit who was acting as negotiator for the night. Now having revealed my position and my knowledge of their rather inept tactics a stand off ensued.
Unsuprisingly none of these police will get the bravery award - they sat there like lemons for an hour in which we disscussed various things (including their bungling around) and tried to draw my fire. They could have charged up the stairs and gone out in a blaze of glory, had their names carved into eternity - instead they whinged that i had taken the aformentioned pen hostage and decided to raid a nearby kitchen which the believed to be mine (where could they have got that idea?). Still, the highlight of this standoff was the exceptional attempt for one particular officer to try to run across the part of the corridor i could see and getting stuck against the oppostie door as he tried to open it while still running into it. I just couldn't react out of sheer disbelief.
I was also informed by this person that "there was no vector from my RBG to his head" as i tried to shoot him a couple of times by leaning over the landing. I then succeeded in shooting him despite his beliefs in the head as he tried to wedge the door open with a spatula (nicked from the raided kitchen of course) and then when that failed some paper. Before retiring for the night he stormed up the stairs to rescue his pen and to shake the hand of his killer which was very nice of him.
By this point i was getting rather bored, and since i had invited friends round earlier i thought i would continue to let the police stand around and look intelligent. This is something i later regretted, since about 5 minutes after i closed the door they came up the stairs and i could have easily picked a few off. This time i was trapped, but being in the company of friends i let the matter rest and thought i would try to annoy them to the extent they would leave by playing the most irritating phone ringtone in the world continuously. Finally, they did wisen up to the fact that i could see them on the landing and they blocked my spyhole.
I had another trick up my sleeve. My netork of informants were telling me the situation and how many were there and where as they stood on the landing. So, i thought that there were too many players in this game and decided to even the score a little. One of my friends now truned accomplices who is skilled in the arts of 'kung foolery' opened the door slightly to encourage my assailants to shoot wildly against the wall. I then casually proceed to shoot them from above the door while standing on a chair, thus i got my second victim and blew the arm off another who then displayed extreme rage against my celing and shot it 15 times.
During this skirmish, two of my accomplices were unfortunately shot in the face but it was a noble sacrificce they made and i thank them.
Having been foiled again, the police retreated to the safety of the lower coridior at which point i made them an offer they couldn't refuse - a duel or they could sit there all night. After some 20 minutes of deliberation, they accepted the duel, to be fought in the magnificent Christ's car park.
Now the terms of the duel as i understood them was that i would fight one person only with RBGs and there would be a no kill during and after the duel.
One, two, three, four, five...turn - and the duel commenced. The officer who was to become my third victim decided to hide behind a car and shoot me from there while the wind was sweeping his rubber bands miles away - oh the honour. He did fluke a hit on my arm, but it was a minor problem. I continued to circle without wasting ammo before pouncing for the kill - three hits to the chest and he was a gonner. I was home and dry - or so i thought.
Now as the audience and assassins assembled to discuss the nights events, a random police officer turned up. The two surving police (one missing an arm of course) then informed him of the sittuation and he asked if the no kill applied to him. The acting umpire for the occasion then backed out of the affair and i realised i had been conned. The new arival pulled out a supersoaker as i tried to make a getaway. He displayed such amazing skills that wowed the audience - he dropped the supersoaker. Such despicable incompetance must not go unpunished and i shot him as well. The other police found the perfect excuse to come after me - 'he's shooting the police get him'.
After a superspeed chase for about 70 meters across the car park and back into my building i was cruelly gunned down (by a very good shot to the head just before i dived into the safety of my corridor).
I woudl like to point out that i think this was slightly unfair since i was shot by an officer who had agreed to a no kill and i did not break the agreement with him since i did not attempt to shoot him but shot the late arrival in self defence. I would like the umpire to say a few words about this.
Or else, i think there should be plenty of space on the police force considerng the number of vacancies i opened. So my this is my CV.
Bye
Chris, myself and the Raccoon, joined by the public spirited Kat, headed over to Christ's, to hunt for Alex Pavlaki. After much wandering, we found our way to his room, where Chris set up a bomb. We then retreated, and threw a pen at the door, and spoke in unsubtle tones. This had the desired effect, as we heard the door open. Sadly, the bomb didn't go off. In retrospect, it was decided that it would have been better for the bomb to lean directly against the door...
We then lurked downstairs, and were about to head off when a hail of rubber bands flew past us, fortunately missing. Alex had taken up position at the top of the stairs, with a great field of fire over anyone attempting to climb up. So we stood at the bottom, and had a nice chat with him. This failed to entice him down, so we considered various schemes, from poisoned pens to fake tea-bag grenades. Every so often, Alex would fire a burst of shots down towards us. One of these hit Chris on the arm. He failed to take a hint, and the next volley spatted into his head.
One man down, but fortunately reinforcements soon arrived, in the form of Tom Booth and Badgergirl. The standoff continued, until Alex moved downstairs behind the cover of 'innocent' friends, and fired shots down the corridor, which flew over my head as I ducked. Badgergirl returned fire, but apparently his bands only hit after rebounding from the wall. So a new stand off ensured, until Alex grew bored, and went back into his room. The police then took up position outside, waiting for it to open.
Eventually, it did, and shots were exchanged. Raccoon was killed, and a non-innocent inside was hit by the return fire. Tom exchanged shots with Alex, and lost an arm in the process.
We headed downstairs again, and the siege resumed. Both sides were getting tired of standing around, so Alex proposed a duel. After a little thought, I accepted. After all, it was probably our best chance of killing him tonight, and besides, it sounded fun :)
We finalised the terms of the duel: it was to be held outside, with AbF acting as umpire. Tom kindly leant me his RBR, and I also had a partially loaded pistol. Alex had a shotgun, and pistols.
We stood back to back, and on AbF's count, took five paces, then turned. Alex dived behind a car for cover, so I did likewise. We circled a little, he advanced, and I fired some shots. Having never used an RBR (or even been in a proper firefight) before, I was unsure what my range was, so wasted some ammo before getting a hit on his left arm. Good, except I was now almost out of ammo. He edged close, before lunging forward. I emptied my guns, before feeling his rubber bands smack into me. Slightly disappointing, but great fun. And how I'd wanted to go: not with a 'bang', but a clickclickclick.
After congratulation Alex on his success, we stood around talking for a while. As we did so, Butternut Creamcakes arrived, rather drunk, carrying a CPS, and uninformed about the no kills for the duel. He opened fire on Alex, his shots going wide. Alex fired back, killing him, then firing randomly (if understandably) at the remaining police, before running back in the direction of his room. Kat and Badgergirl gave chase, Badgergirl hitting him as he made a break for his staircase. A messy end to a messy evening, but at least we had a dead criminal to show for our effort (not to mention four dead policemen).
At this point, friendly talk resumed. Alex agreed we had at least made the game more interesting for him, and several of his non playing friends seemed keen to join up. AbF was seen handing out XMaff recruitment packs, before we all headed off for (eternal) sleep.
I has been deaded. Bombed the crap out of when I opened my door this morning. Not very cool. But the dude was keen - only got home at 5 and the bomb was there by 7! Nutters. Oh well, see you next term!
It seems that Paul Totman generates sufficient Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt to counteract our "really lame" bombs. Despite this, he seems to have no qualms about using free bombs as part of his strategy of intimidation and misinformation: he stuck the bomb label to his neighbour's door. We doubt whether labelling one's neighbour's door as a bomb is legal.
However, we are not ones to hold a grudge, and so in the spirit of Free Software we left a bomb made to a design unencumbered by patents on his door.
Shot by Foxy while trying to cosh him. Feel silly. Will not resurrect again.
From: Fiona Billingsley To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: Murder in the CL Hi I'm pretty sure one (or more) of our students were murdered on the balcony in the street earlier today. I definitely heard some very loud bangs, and some students have reported seeing something resembling a body being carried away. This is shocking! What should I do? F ---------- From: Frank King To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Murder in the CL Woo! Murder! I'm sure that you know that the probability of MURDER is distributed with a Poisson! Distribution! We just need a few more to get an accurate value of lamda and then we can work out when the next will be! (Leaps around the room and startles students in supervision). ---------- From: Building Services To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: Body in LT2 A member of the cleaning staff was deeply shocked to find the mutilated body of a student slumped over the tables in Lecture Theatre 2 a few minutes ago. If this continues, we'll be asking for extra pay. ---------- From: Peter Robinson To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Murder in the CL I'm pretty sure the students of this university have been killing each other for years (and themselves after attempting to comprehend discrete maths), they just tend not to do it under our noses. My college appears to be a particular hotspot for this "assassination". ---------- From: Ross Anderson To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Murder in the CL Analysis of CCTV footage, together with data collected by the high power MIFARE scanners I attached to the doors indicates that the culprits were mathmos. I suggest that we implement additional security to prevent this happening again. Perhaps anyone trying to enter the building should have to endure a minute of "Tick Talk" without screaming and running away. This is believed to be unbearable to non compscis. ---------- From: Simon Moore To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: Murder in the CL ECAD is the roxxor. ---------- From: Building Services To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: Another body A (luckily different) member of the cleaning staff discovered another body, this time in the lift, apparently having previously been slumped against the doors on the first floor. ---------- From: Andy Hopper To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Murder in the CL Based on the evidence, I suggest that we aim the CL missiles at the CMS in preparation for a counter attack should such a thing happen again. ---------- From: Alan Blackwell To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Murder in the CL Hey everyone! Look at my new BlueJ interface to the missile silo. Its really cool, and can take commands over a web interface. ---------- Blinding flash over the horizon, followed by a very loud bang. ---------- From: Markus Kuhn To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: Nuking if CMS Analysis of the lovely UTF-8 encoded web logs indicates that a google bot followed the link http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/users/afb21/bluejmissiles/command.cgi?Launch Oops ---------- From: Larry Paulson To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Nuking of CMS Naturally this wouldn't have happened if AFB's program was implemented in ML. The type checker would have stopped it somehow. ---------- From: Arthur Norman To shady-cabal@cl.cam.ac.uk Subject: RE: Nuking of CMS Who will we use as our experimental animals now?
Assassins interest me no more. It is the system that needs to be brought down. Byrony Baines, Thomas Robinson, Tom Booth all left their abodes vacant at my time of visiting, but Ben Weaver lay to rest his truncheon after offering to help me find a friend, before I shot him through the heart with a savoury mechanised bandgun. I heard the loading of Adrian Potter's sawn off shottie before deciding he wasn't going to open his door with kind intent.
19.12 - Happily eating salad in bar. 19.13 - Happily eating salad in bar. 19.14 - Happily eating salad in bar. 19.15 - Lung exploded as searing hot metal ruptures ribcage. Desperately blowing on my thumb to re-inflate my left lung, my demiser introduces himself as one Duncan Brewer. Well wishing him on fair play, I bid the sneaky conniving bastad farewell and floated off to a better place.
Another day, another swathe of non-lethal mail. Or so I thought. Recalling my first close encounter with a salted envelope, however, I cautiously pried the first open, and tweezed out the contents - an essay being returned. The second was a note from a tutor; my suspicions evaporated. Third time, unlucky. A chunky wad of papers inside, I removed the contents and read 'Westlands Graduate Opportunities Presentation'. I should have realised - I'm an undergraduate, and what kind of recruitment company uses UMS? - but my finely honed sense of danger had been dulled. As I flipped open the contents to see what inane sycophancy this generically named company had mistakenly generated for me, I felt a dim sense of dread at having to read through a pile of blurb about consultancy opportunities in the faint hope of being offered free drinks. As the detonator switch flipped, and the room filled with white light, I felt a small shudder of relief; no more being afraid of people with rubber bands, nor of being recruited, for that matter.
Yesterday saw me make the third trip in as many days to lurk around the residence of target No1 - a certain "dirty birch". not wishing to knock and give away both myself and my position, instead I have become well aquainted with certain areas around his residence. Not liking the difficulty of dealing with shared roomers. At least I can get to his room though. Sum total time spent on this target - most so far - possible into the three hours now. Why does he never leave his room? Death waits, a knife in the dark.
Report: This is a harmless imitation bomb constructed for the purposes of a game played by the Cambridge University Assassins' Guild. Please do not touch. Any queries should be addressed to the Umpire, Martin O'Leary of St John's College (assassins@srcf.ucam.org).
Volume: 75 litres.
Blast radius: 13.6 m
As I was wondering back from a meeting remarking to a friend "I am expecting to be attacked after one of these" I was attacked after one of them.
Lightly armed, out manned and out gunned (three people with CPS will do that to a guy) and loaded down with stuff, I chose to run.
Several streets later, with Maz in close persuit (but beginning to flag), I made it back to my house and ducked inside to exchange my heavy bags for heavy guns. Mildly annoyingly this resulted in locking my keys in my room, so I decided to watch through the windows as my attackers wandered about vaguely, and resigned myself to the long trek to college to get a spare key....
We knew that Felix would be returning from archery at about 17:00, so we armed ourselves and took up positions on the route from Kelsey Kerridge back to his house.
After a while, I saw him approaching along the road. I jumped out (with hindsight, too soon) and fired at him, but he was out of range. He ran off down a side road. I chased him round the block, but he was too fast and managed to get into his house before I could catch up with him.
I watched the house for a couple of minutes, looking for my allies. I saw no sign of them or of Felix, and soon gave up and went home.
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Okay, so I left my room at 4:12 and it's raining a bit. only a little. I probably shouldn't need my scarf. It won't take long. Just got to walk to mill road and hang about there for a bit. Meet up with some friends, borrow a very big water gun. Set up an ambush.
We have said plan. One of said friends hides in a salvation army shop, with some guns, I hide in a graveyard because it's fitting, any and all other said friends do sneaky things. Felix is to walk back down Mill Road sometime after 5. Said friend in salvation army shop has good view of road, and shall indicate when he's nearby. We have both sides of the road covered, better vision, and the element of surprise, and bigger weapons.
The wait was fairly long and arduous, but I keep my eye on said friend until about 5:15, when he pulls his weapons and starts running up Mill Rd. I react quickly and as I get to the road I see him chase a shadowy figue down a side street. About to cross the road I realise "hey! this is a road!" and stop to let the car pass, before crossing in a thankfully short break in the traffic. Get to the corner, no-one in sight, apart from felix's friend who is phoning him to give a description of me, and where I am. Rats. I debate the option of shooting him now anyway, because he's obviously intefering, but don't think he'd actually abort the phone call if I told him he was dead in the context of the game, and it's a bit ungentlemanly to do so.
So I'm in the middle of mill road with a large unconcealable water weapon, with my target being ed directions to me. I happily inform Felix's friend that I'm probably disadvantaged in said circumstances, and skedaddle away from Felix's house, take a sequitous back route, and arrive there after a brief delay. Sadly it's too slow to catch felix who's bolted up inside at this point, so I decide taht, knowing he now has access to a large array of CPSses, band guns, and at least one wildfire, not to mention territorial advantage (not to mention he's warm inside, and I've been stuck in the pouring rain and cold wind for over an hour.) I decide retreat is a decent option. Ah well. Should have taken my scarf. It snowed on the way home.
DunkyB has been on the wanted list for far too long, and so this evening we decided to do something about this. Thinking that lurking his room would be far too predictable we opted to lurk some pubs instead. Turning up to a particularly likely location we found that the CoCP had stood us up, but we were not going to give up that easily. Settling down for a long, hard lurk we vigilantly watched the door, but it was not to be.
Not being the type to give up so easily we made our way to the criminal's lair, but there were no lights on inside. Just to make sure my accomplice rang the buzzer, but the voice on the intercom sounded far too apathetic to be the villain we were after. Finally, after lurking for a few more minutes, we decided that enough was enough and left the scene.
The new police administration is very dedicated. Adam and myself lurked the pubs in the name of justice. We are so selfless. He didn't seem to be around so we went to visit him. His light was off and we thought he was being very rude so we rang his doorbell and waited. He was clearly too scared to come out. oh well...
Well, I'm dead. Not entirely awake yet, but dead anyway. It went
something like this... alarm clocks goes off. Work way around room
turning them off one by one. Get back into bed. Knock on door... "Rob,
you have a bomb!". Ooooo, fun. Shoes on, grab tape measure, out window,
into corridor. Round to my bit of corridor, see bomb, start measuring
out 4.2m I need to move away. ***BANG***. Collapse on floor. In dying
moments, see
This morning's plan was simple. Take my trademark, yet another bomb, and place it on the door of my target, but this time hang around in case this bomb was also evaded. And also because I always enjoy a good exploding.
I was somewhat later arriving at Wolfson Court than I intended, partly due to realising I needed to whip up a bomb, partly due to the very slippery, icy conditions. Eventually, however, I arrived, got directions from the porters, and headed for the corridor's toilet. It seemed an adequate lurking spot, so I extracted my bomb and prepared to drop it on my target's door. I was interrupted by a girl at the other end of the corridor putting her bin outside her room, but once she'd headed back in, I crept out to set the bomb. Unhappily, she emerged again as I rested the bomb against his door, which struck me as odd since I'd assumed she'd headed back inside for a bedder-undisturbed lie-in. I tried to pass the event off as me simply dropping something off, but she insisted on coming over to investigate, made slightly surprised noises, and then left. I pretended to follow, asking directions for the quickest way out and following her until our routes diverged, which thankfully was only just outside my target's corridor.
At this point I nipped back, and proceeded to the toilet to wait things out. About a minute passed before my target was tipped off by a shout of 'Rob, you've got a bomb!' A short conversation ensued, then everything went quiet for a short while, then the voice informed Rob that he'd 'locked the door', whatever that meant.
Everything went quiet again, and I moved from the toilet to the shower which had a slightly better hiding angle if people were hanging around in the corridor. I heard some scuffling, then the metallic plink of a disarmed cap detonator snapping shut. I waited a few seconds, then jumped out into the corridor, RBG at the ready, and was slightly dismayed to see two people in the corridor. My target gave himself away with a mild expletive, however, and so I shot him with a couple of bands. One struck around the kidneys, another on his arm as he tried in vain to twist out of the way. I then put the gun to his head and sait 'Bang' to avoid any disputes. I was mildly surprised to see that the plinking sound had not been a cap detonator but a metal tape measure that was presumably being used to determine a safe distance from which to set off the bomb - apparently Mr Chipperfield exited his room via the window, re-entering through his roommate's.
He was very good-natured about it, and even offered to set my bomb off for me when I expressed a preference in leaving it there rather than risk it going off when I removed it and looking silly. I was away before eight, a good time given that I'd been expecting to lurk for some considerable period.
Skeletor was laying low, it had become clear it was just far too dangerous to venture outside with all these assassinations going on. However, Skeletor new that a thunderbolt would soon be whistling its way towards him. He hatched an evil plan to go out with a bang. It would have involved a suicide bomb of about skeletor's volume, hopefully large enough to take out a decent chunk of Cambridge and therefore catch a number of his targets, or maybe just the Umpire's college. Unfortunately the police got to him before Skeletor could set out on his evil mission.
Rudely awakened by his evil minion knocking on his door announcing two people were here to see him, skeletor asked "are they suspicious?" His minion had to admit they were rather suspicious. Skeletor leapt from his room and let rip with his rubber band gun of terror, only to find it was too under powered to reach the police officers he saw before him. They aimed their water pistols and Skeletor made a frantic dash to get within rubber range, only to be gunned down by his assailants.
After a cup of tea with the police Skeletor decided he wasn't too upset and started packing for his months holiday starting tomorrow to try and recover his nerves.
Swat team Beta meet at checkpoint A for operation Inco Eliminate. Its a long walk to the house on the hill, and longer still when we miss the turning, but half an hour later we arrive in civilian suburbia and witness, for an hour, the very strange phenomenon of Real People with Real Lives. A suspicious figure leaves the house, but isn't suspicious in the tall, scruffy blonde way so we manage not to shoot him. By 9:00 it seems apparent that a) the target isn't planning on going to work and b) the cold and the Normallity are becoming to bite so we opt for the Ol' Door Knocking tactic. A friendly (non blonde) housemate answers the door so we ask nicely for Michael. "Oh.. which Michael?".. "Michael Tanner." He walks to the door with the big axe swinging outside it.. figures. "Are you suspicous looking?".. we exchange glances. "No, no I think we look quite normal." "Why are you here?" "Um, we have some papers for Mike" "So you're assassins really, aren't you?". It seems pointless to deny it any longer.. "Yes, we are".. and the predatory assassins grin emerges from shallow concealment. A head of wiry, crazy hair and a silver rbg appear from behind the door and we exhange shots and banter. Eventually the suspect rushes us and is cut down. Water with care in whole house.. tasty :-).
Coffee and donuts with the corpses follow (this being the dead housemate. Well.. apparently they're all dead. The umpire just never found the bodies..), and it emerges that Mike is going to India tomorrow and was planning a suicide attack on the Umpire before he got Zapped. Good job the force is so psycopathic and morning-friendly, eh?
OPERATION DUNKYBASH!
Yeah, so our organisation sucks :-p, the remnants of SWAT teams I and II congregated in Caius, discussed breakfast, went to the engineering department, took up lurking positions and waited. Nothing happened, a) because we were a little late, and b) the lecture had finished five minutes early. But let it be known, we did try. And then we went for SWAT Breakfast. Bacon...
After standing in the cold for about half an hour we decided to be proactive, so on seeing someone aiming for the door I intercepted him. Asking him first if he knew Ben Jones, and then if he *was* Ben Jones, we persuaded him to let us in. Quickly assembling a bomb I covered Tom as he set it up. We waited briefly outside, but then were distracted by a large inflatable gorilla.
Good morning! And what a fine morning it is.So fine, we got up early and went out huntin'. It was freezing but that didn't deter us. The rest of the police decided that I was the most innocent looking of the group so put me to the front to catch the door when it opened. We waited. And waited. Then we were in luck. A kindly neighbour let us in. But Ben is a very lazy boy. He wasn't up. We left him a present to teach him not to be so lazy. Then we went away and ate grandma's homemade donuts.
Having got up six hours earlier than normal I made my way to Magdalene to attack the inco with SWAT. After hanging around outside for about half an hour, and after Jon Woollgar missed a chance to get inside when a Suspicious Neighbour came out, we finally gained entrance on his return. Making our way to the top of the house we planted a large bomb on his door, knocked and then legged it outside, where we encountered a giant Umpire.
This morning dawned bright and clear: perfect weather for lurking. A SWAT team waited patiently (and freezingly) outside the house of the deadl--- er, the dange--, er the incompetent Two Nearly Dead Fish. Eventually someone was gullible enough to let us in. We set the bomb, and exciting, dangerous events entirely failed to happen before we left.
I knew that today my target would be spending the afternoon in a practical so I turned up at 3pm, found out where he was sitting, and took up position at a nearby computer. The practical officially finished at 4pm, but he was still working until 5pm. I sat and I waited. As people started leaving, I slipped out and lurked near the door, poised to strike.
Then I was collared by someone who wanted to say "Hi!". As soon as I saw my target leaving, I made my excuses and left but by the time I caught up with him by the bike rack, he was already leaving. I almost - but not quite - got in range and so was unable to chance a shot. Given how ridiculously unsubtle I've been, I expect my target has guessed why I was there...Today, as I was putting on my bike helmet I espied the figure of one Russ Williams exiting the very same building I had just left, and surreptitiously making his way towards me. His behaviour earlier had suggested that he was targeting me - hence I made haste and drove off before he came near.
I opened my door with my customary caution, checking through the slit to see if anyone was hiding behind. This time, for a change, there was, and I beat a very hasty retreat as he opened fire. Only two bands ended up being shot, and both ended up around 8ft down the corridor from my door, which i was sheltering behind at the time. He did try and poke the gun round the door to shoot me, but it jammed and he forgot to say bang. I always forget to say bang, so i feel his pain! We had a brief discussion about it, and he went on his way, the situation having been discussed in a most civilised manner.
Not too much of a loss to him, as I have absolutely no idea who he is! Will just have to keep my eyes peeled now.
Love you really Maz
Sorry.
Love you really, Felix.
About one week ago: Felix reveals on IRC that he will be attending an archery tournament in Oxford on Saturday.
Friday: By the power of the (lol) Internet, I find out where Oxford's archery society shoots, and when the tournament starts. Presumably, the tournament will be in the same place. The Umpire says that I can't kill Felix while he's doing anything archery related, but I can if, for example, he goes to a pub, does some shopping, or visits some friends. I hope that the team will retire to a pub after the tournament, perhaps the one mentioned in the directions to the archery site.
Saturday
11:40 I arrive at the train station. It is busy. I queue for a ticket at a ticket machine.
11:45 The ticket machine doesn't seem to have Oxford as an option. I queue for a ticket at the ticket office. I miss a possible train.
11:50 I get a ticket and find the next train.
12:15 A pair of middle-aged men drinking Marks & Spencer Spanish beer sit next to me. One does most of the talking. He seems to have been some sort of troubleshooter in businesses. He talks about psychology, in which he claims to have some training, how it's a very evil thing and how he has to be careful when using it. The other spills a can of Stella on the carpet.
15:00 My train to Oxford is late, due to a fatality (sucks to be at Oxford). I get a few strange looks from passengers as I load my RBG.
15:15 I arrive in Oxford and buy a tourist map.
15:30 I attempt to acquire some form of "disguise".
16:10 I pass the pub mentioned in the directions to the sports centre. I have a look through the windows. It appears that it does not open until 18:00 today.
16:15 I find the sports centre, shortly after the start of the tournament. There is a long, thin path from the pedestrian entrance to the main building, with fences and hedges on either side. Beyond the main building is the car park, which has a separate entrance.
16:20 I go into the main building and ask if the archery tournament is taking place here; it is. I find Felix's car in the car park, with CPS 1000 on the back seat. I consider contact poisoning his door handle, but decide that as it will probably still be a meeting of the Cambridge archery society when he opens it, it wouldn't be valid.
16:25 I look for other pubs nearby. I find one: "The Oxford Blue" or some such. I look through the windows.
16:30 I decide that the tournament will take at least an hour, maybe two or more. I start to lurk near the pedestrian entrance to the sports centre in someone's driveway, on the assumption that people are most likely to visit "The Cricketer's Arms" afterwards.
17:00 Some people leave the sports centre wearing what might be bow cases on their backs. I follow them for a little, but they are on bikes and hence faster than me.
17:05 I check "The Oxford Blue" for people.
17:30 A man with blond hair keeps walking along the street, looking at me suspiciously.
18:00 It starts to get cold. I wish I had brought some tea with me.
18:25 One of the inhabitants of the house by which I am lurking looks at me suspiciously through the window.
18:30 I check the car park again. It is less full than before, but the car is still there. The sports centre staff appear to be closing the centre.
18:35 I check the nearby pubs. There is a man outside "The Oxford Blue", talking on his mobile phone. He says that he's excited because he's just won fifty. He says that his friend, as ever, needs to play the system for a bit longer to be sure. Presumably he's talking about the fruit machine in the pub. The blond man who was looking at me suspiciously earlier is sitting in an ambulance outside the pub.
18:45 A man with a long, untidy beard staggers past and mutters, "You shouldn't wait there."
18:50 A young couple walk past and are startled by my presence.
18:55 I think about what I will write in my report.
19:00 I think about writing about thinking what I will write about in my report.
19:05 I think about writing about...
19:10 I think about writing a list of times and events that occurred. This reminds me of "The Clue", a computer game based around planning burglaries. Part of the planning involves lurking near the target building and making a list of events that occur.
19:15 I hum some of the music from "The Clue" in order to entertain myself.
19:20 Two women who approach the driveway where I am lurking ask what I'm doing. I explain that I am waiting for a friend. They ask if I would like to phone him/her. I say that it is a surprise. They remark that it will be "a helluva surprise". I smile and say that I am just a student messing about.
19:25 Two people walk past, possibly carrying bow cases, talking about stretching things (maybe bowstrings?). I have a look in "The Oxford Blue", as they came from that direction.
19:30 I check the car park again. The car has gone. The car park is nearly empty. Most of the lights in the sports centre are off. Blast.
19:35 I check the pubs one last time. There is no-one of note. There seems to be some sort of birthday party in "The Cricketer's Arms".
19:45 I go to a Chinese take-away and order sweet and sour chicken balls and egg-fried rice. A foul-mouthed "youth" and his "woman" attempt to order, but seem to have great difficulty understanding the menu. The man serving them refuses to deliver without a phone number; the youth replies that he will "give him da dollar" and return in about ten minutes. He leaves briefly, muttering something about how it is "pussy-lick" or similar. He returns with some sweets and has a heated argument with his woman about how he doesn't have any keys for his house and other such things.
20:30 A car drives past and splashes me. It must hate me. Can I burn it?
21:15 I get trains back to Cambridge. On one train, a number of girls discuss their attitudes towards (re)marriage. On another, a male goth sits opposite me, listening to loud heavy metal while painting his fingernails black. It quite suits him.
01:45 I discover that Felix did go to a pub afterwards... but he went by car.
01:50 I consider the other things I could have done on Saturday. On that note:
Obsessive, geeky, pedantic, male psychopath with slightly twisted sense of humour seeks nice young lady for possible romance. My interests include baroque opera and "new" music, birdwatching and science-fiction. I like tea. I am particularly interested if you like to organise collections of books. Interested? E-mail mml27. (Obviously I'm not going to meet you while I'm still alive in a game sense, which I've just lost.)
P.S. I am quite shy really.
P.P.S. I don't bite (unless you really want me to).
Alchemical Experiment 3 - Transmutation of Andy Fookes into a five-foot-wide heap of twenty-sided dice.
The elemental ingredients of the starting state were:
Toronto, 52 kg. Marzipan, 14.5 kg. Beef, 8 kg. Hello, 2.5 kg. Hemhenjamib, 1.2 kg. Jazz, 800 g. Lambert, 280 g. Wood, 200 g. Prae-sodium, 120 g. Segnomin (or Thomason's Oil), 80 g. Wax, 65 g. Goofinium, 55 g. Fool's Gold, 40 g. Iron de Havilland, 40 g. Manganesium, 35 g. Malt, 25 g. Doreen, 20 g. Christmas, 15 g. Kryptonite, 15 g. Red, 15 g. Goo, 15 g. Podium, 15 g. Odium, 15 g. Rodeo, 10 g. Wine, 10 g. Lavender, 8 g. Tedium, 3 g. Thankium, 2 g.
The elemental ingredients of the target state were, and remain, unknown.
Experimental write-up:
The Alchemist is believed to have been driven insane through prolonged exposure to mercury. Incomprehensible gibberings were directed at nearby people. The target somehow died.
I put on my most innocentist and charming smile. "Please Mr Porter, could I see this year's matriculation picture?" The porter looked at me with an amazing fondness. "Of course, my dear. You are such a lovely young lady, how could I possibly refuse?" And so we looked and memorised his amazingly distinctive features. I then imagined blood pouring from a bullet wound in his light brown ickle head. Teehee. We wandered round to his room and he wasn't in. The zombie foot soldier set about constructing a high elaborate explosive device, or bomb as it's sometimes known.
We then caught a glimpse of a suspicious character. I looked at my accomplice. He looked at me. We both looked at each other. Then we noticed a third party was joining in this staring contest. Adam chased him and he ran into an ugly concrete bit of college. This obviously made him very hard to find as we were in Churchill. We followed the best we could and watched him go upstairs from the hall. We lurked and eventually decided to just shoot him. So Adam shot him. The end.
Meeting up with my merry band of police we decided that we would rid this town of incompetence, and so we headed out towards Churchill. When we got there we decided that, instead of all of us descending on the Porters' Lodge, Lauren and I would go to look at the Matric photo, while the rest of the team would wait in the bar.
After some super sneaky persuasion from Lauren we got a good look at the photo, and therefore of our target. Rejoining the SWAT team we all trooped round to our target's room, and set Mr. Booth to constructing a bomb. On our way there, however, I noticed a rather familiar looking individual, and a nod from Lauren gave me enough confidence to chase him into the main building. Once in there, after a little confusion, we found him again in a small computer room outside hall, where his friends were busy giggling and pointing at the people in long dark (and red) coats. Deciding that this guy was blatantly who we were after I followed them into hall and shot him as he tried to escape.
After longtime in the pub we made our way up to Churchill, with many many death threats being made against Alchemist for being a total muppet. Upon arrival, Lauren and AbF went to get a look at the matriculation photo while the rest of us sat in the bar. We then made our way to his staricase, and Bryony sent me and Kit inside with a bomb. I soon realised I didn't have a cover sheet for it and sent Kit back to fetch it from Bryony. He then returned with news that the inco had been spotted outside and was being hunted, and told me to stay put but not to plant the bomb. I waited. And waited. A dodgy-looking man turned up and gave me a funny look. Thinking he was a spy for the inco, I tried to look innocent, and concealing the bomb under my jacket made my way into the next staircase, to discover he was still following me. In the end I locked myself in the bathroom until AbF called to inform me that the original target was well and truly dead (hooray!) It turned out that my suspicious stalker was in fact an innocent bystander who thought I was sufficiently dodgy to call the porters. Whoops. We exited Churchill as quickly as possible.
The dragoons glistening eyes lit up as it examined the scroll. Fresh meat, waiting for it. But so far away, would the trip be worth it to keep the fire inside stoked for another few days? The dragoon knew that it had no choice, and unfurling its leathery wings beat the air into submission as it disappeared into the darkness.
Arriving at the far castle, it stalked the pinnacles in search of its prey. At last - there it was! The dragoon charged forward in anticipation of the tasty morcel, but as it neared realised it had not the energy to subsume the meal in fire. (Or, alternatively, it had forgotten its gun). Tucking in its wings it stalked haughtily by, the prey not knowing how close it had been to death. Another time...
The Goblin King got shot by someone who asked his neighbours if he was in and then lurked for a while, after he left the Goblin King when after him, saw him fiddling with his bike and got him to follow him to be sure and then got shot in a firefight in which a pen was hurled by the Goblin King and rubber bands were launched by the assailant, there was confusion in the dark with rubber bands but we decided he probably got me before I got my rubber band gun out and returned fire.
I felt particularly foolish for not shooting him as I was 90% sure it was him getting his bike ready to go and then for not running across the muddy field that is Queens' Green as I was foresightedly dressed for it. Right, now off to celebrate my birthday in peace and less paranoia. Also, beware next term: I have the plans for a rubber band gatling gun coming!
Noticing from wikitastic sources that Corky had many supervisions tomorrow, and being somewhat stuck on question 5 a), I decided to take a walk in the night air. A walk in the direction of.. ooh.. christs p'lodge on the offchance. Now by the time I got there I was assuming it would be too late, but no, by the aid of a magical mirror I saw someone that could only be Ed Heaney lurking inside. Now where there is one dastardly evil ChriMaf, there are usually many, so I lurked round the corner for them to come out. Nothing happened. I went back and checked.. they were still there!?.. nothing I could do as I was carrying only my ickle watergun, so I went back round the corner and waited some more. Time dragged, I went to check again but could see no-one. They must have eluded my bryony-sense, curses! Whilst standing silhuetted in the entrance, trying to peer round the corner I noticed a trenchcoat progressing up the street. I know that trenchcoat... and in fact THATS THE DUNKY! turning and doing a double take. Time to leg it! I don't know if the opposition was heavily armed, but I certainly wasn't so after a while lurking the back entrance in case they counterattacked I left through the side gate and returned home. Debating DoSsy death or Dunkination I informed #shortband, and returned to 5 a). It still makes no sense...
Kermit stared at his watch. The ticking hand wasn't ticking, and this could not be considered good for the device's internal workings. Possibly a clockwork watch on an amphibian was a mistake, Kermit pondered as he ruefully slid his damp hand back into his pocket.
Suddenly, the evil visage of Morat appeared ahead of him. Shaking with nerves, he pulled out his gun and fired repeatedly at the gibbering thing, and was reassured when it flopped to the ground and was still at last.
Pausing for thought, Kermit pulled out his watch and shook it again. Hypnotically, the "date" hand rolled gently backwards. Kermit was evidently too late to defend those poor innocents. His mission was a failure.
The dragoon growled. The hunger was growing once again. A small tidbit earlier in the day had stoked the fires within, and the creature was once again prepared to hunt. Making it's way through the night once more, it espied its prey emerging from its burrow, dragging an injured leg. Pursuit was easy, and Takemaru was quickly devoured.
As I hobbled upstairs on my crutches, having sustained broken knee cap in battle (falling off my bike) was seen by one "Dragoon". As returned downstairs, ready to set off to town for some learning of sorts, resting on my crutches and unable to really do very much, was caught unawares and shot at close quarters. Lovely bloke, shot me dead then asked what the hell I had done to my leg. Sir, I salute you, you seriously are a Gentleman.
Thus ends chapter 1 of Takemaru Saga
All things have nine lives... I shall Return.
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