The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 NewsWould you try the same plan twice in a row, only this time staying in just one position instead of moving about unnecessarily?
Rolf Wood
Dear lovely fluffy Maz, who, despite some reports, is a close 2nd-best to the beast that is Steve McCann,
Flooflebunny has found that blood gets a bit gooey after a while and not so good for bathing, so one bounced to Lensfield Road to stalk prey.
Unfortunately, the door is a little too far from the road to make an easy "nonchalant leaning against the wall", so it's damn hard to get in there - Flooflebunny used his SuperFloofle bouncing powers to get round the back, but alas, to no avail and he feared for his trouser integrity...
Grrr... today was a solid day too - floofle needs to rest... he fears that his Day of Reckoning draws close, and considers sending a love note to Janet Scott for the entertainment value.
Signing off after a hard day floofling, love to Maz's family, wherever they
are hiding from me,
The Flooflebunny
Solomon 8:7
Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can floods drown it: If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, He would utterly be condemned.
Today, at approximately 15:55, I was walking down Burrell's Walk, when I heard, off to the right, what sounded very much like a gunshot and a scream. On looking, I saw two bicycles (with riders) moving with significant velocity along the north side of Memorial Court. Trees obscured my view, but I fear I may have been witnessing a most brutal cycle-by shooting.
Strolling through town earlier, I came across none other than the Master of Police, Mr. Tom J G Booth, walking in the opposite direction. I smiled and nodded at him as I continued to walk past. He made no move to apprehend my incompetent self however, which did puzzle me slightly. Was he not aware I was an incompetent? Maybe he wasn't armed? Perhaps he had somewhere else he needed to be? Whatever the reason, it saved his bacon...
I bumped into Kit in town. He saw me first, and I was feeling generous, so I let him live. For now.
I discreetly knifed the incompetent policeman Chris Doris at the cafeteria. I almost feel guilty for killing him twice in one term, but really it serves him right for living so conveniently close.
There was a rumour that Wei Li had a supervision ending at 5.15 in Newnham, so I ran over to try to attack her at the end of it. Hung around for about fifteen minutes, but either it overran by ages or I missed her to begin with. I then went to lurk the end of Ben Weaver's lecture at 6 on Mill Lane, but owing partly to confusion about which building it was in, I missed him too despite a twenty-minute lurk.
| Rank | Institution | In (MB) | Out (MB) | Total (MB) | % |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 33 | Magdalene College | 18507.32 | 4093.48 | 22600.81 | 1.08% |
From: The legendary but quite lovely Matthew Garrett
Dearest Umpire,
While your loveliness is certainly of such magnitude that it may even eclipse Stephen McCann, I must admit that the constent platitudes I read on the news page bore me. As such, I will make the following offer:
1 (one) gin and tonic, made with my own fair hands will be provided to whosoever produces the report that makes me laugh the most between now and the end of the game.
Conditions apply. To qualify, a report must result in at least a "rofl". I refuse to give up my hard-earned alcohol if the best response obtained is merely a "lol". Gin and tonic must be obtained from my luxuriously equipped flat. Ice will be provided. Citrus fruit will not be.
Please find attached an image of a bottle representative of the gin. Colour and design may vary. Gin is not GIN from the bottlers of VODKA and SCOTCH WHISKY. If prizewinner has excessively poor personal hygiene, prize may instead be offered to somebody more attractive. Judge's decision is final and probably arbitrary.
Anonymous Bounty Poster reports:
I have just acquired 2 boxes of Choco Leibniz and having no simple way of getting rid of these chocolatey treats. I wish to post a bounty.
Whoever kills Aidan Robison and/or Janet Scott will receive a bounty:
If you kill either of them within 4 days of this bounty being posted, you will receive both boxes of the great chocolate snack. If 4 days pass and neither is dead, you will only get 1 box for killing either.
Suicide and in-killing is encouraged.
If the killer of either is a Caian, they get a special bonus prize.
WOW!!!
I will contact you when the website confirms they are dead, and arrange for
transfer of the goods.
Extra Bonus Bounty: If anyone gets a picture of Simeon Bird in a Hat standing next to either Stephen Siklos, Nick Plummer or The Umpire. Then on posting of such a great report, i will deliver a bounty of bourbon creams, extra style points if they are in fancy dress.
Should the anonymous bounty giver go wanted, then all bountys are transferred to the anonymous bounty giver, at a flat rate of 2 boxes of Choco Leibniz to the killer.... should there be one.
The Umpire makes the usual remarks about how the presence of a bounty on someone's head... oh, I can't be bothered. Go wanted: it'll give me some entertainment and hopefully result in more death.
Shrinking to ant size, I scurried into a mysterious and exciting place. Under the dark sky, it seemd, well, a little bit frightening. But come here I must, for there were evil doers afoot, or, at the very least, evil doers who weren't doing any evil, and thus were being anti-evil, or other such evilness, yes. (Never quesiton the logic of a scientific genius.) As I penetrated the further depths of this ancient structure, I spotted the very person who was the cause of this quest. He was stocking up on supplies, clearly preparing for...something...I waited in a cunning place, and disguised myself still further, lest there be any chance of myself being spotted before it was too late ...for him.
He rounded the corner, cunningly distracting himself with an apple (or maybe it was a bomb? who knows, I didn't want to risk finding out), and quickly he was smote, smote like the, er, smotable thing that he is, or indeed was.
At 6:10 this evening, whilst carrying food to feed my wife and seven starving children, I was ambushed by a raiding party of Henry Pym and Steve McCann. Henry Pym delivered the bullet cleanly to the back of my head, where it lodged, preventing further brain activity.
Greetings Honourable Assassins,
I am looking for The Hero of Destiny. The one who hath crossed the Gorge of Eternal Pain, via the Bridge of Death: The ever so handsome and magnificent Martin, Lord Mazrael of Leicester.Not being just any Hero of Destiny but the one who
actually has hath crossed the Gorge of Eternal Pain and not by way of any
route but by the Bridge of Death and if not across the Bay, then up the
Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda.Plain looking victims will
not make do of - victims to be must have handsomeness like or greater to the
umpire and certainly more than Chris Field.I will pay him more if he can
write a Java quine or locate the triquetrum with his eyes closed but most
importantly he must have a GOLD STAR marksman award doubleplus.
I only want targets who have destroyed Serbian helicopter gunship with own
bare hands in WIDESCREEN DVD FORMAT.You must be above 18 or over to
play.Please ask the permission of him who pays the bill.amen
Dear Sir Dr. Musa,
I am indeed a Hero of Destiny, who hath crossed the Gorge of Eternal Pain, via the Bridge of Death.
Whilst my handsomeness is indeed considered by some to be on a par with the illustrious umpire, I believe that this is a subjective item on your list. If you do manage to see me, you may judge for yourself.
As to the other items that you requested of me:
1.) A Java Quine:
How amusing. I have indeed produced such a quine. It is all upon a single line, as (due to my being a Lord) I have little time for adding line breaks. Of course, it is licenced under the fine GNU GPL, and I hereby declare that I am the author (Martin Matthew Mariuz Mazreal):
public class Quine{public static void main(String[] args){String me ="public class Quine{public static void main(String[] args){String me =;System.out.println(me.substring(0,69)+(char)34+me+(char)34+me.substring(69 ));}}";System.out.println(me.substring(0,69)+(char)34+me+(char)34+me.substri ng(69));}}
2.) The ability to locate the triquetrum with my eyes closed:
Ah, the joys of ripping the bones out of your victims. I have had a great deal of practice in doing this, as I like to keep them as souvenirs. Most of my victims die at night, so the ability to do it in the dark is second nature to me. I keep them on my bed-side table, although this is getting rather full.
In order to remove it, you simply move your knife along the medial side of the proximal row of the carpus until you reach the the lunate. The bone you desire is between this and the pisiform.
3.) 'Gold Star ++' marksmanship award:
I do indeed have such an award. Here is an artist's rendering of it:
4.) The experience of having destroyed a Serbian helicopter gunship with my bare hands in widescreen DVD format:
I spent much of the early part of the 90s in the Balklands. Some of the film 'Black Hawk Down' (although this is set elsewhere) is based upon my actions in destroying helicopter gunships and their occupants.
This is indeed a PROFITable experience. I thoroughly recommend it.
5.) Aged over 18
I am indeed aged over 18, although my exact age is something I would like to keep to myself
6.) Permission of the bill payer
I pay all of my bills with the money (and biscuits) from bounties.
I hope that this meets with your approval.
Yours in hope,
Martin Matthew Mariuz Mazreal, Third Lord of Leicester
Someone anonymous reports:
I would like to offer a bounty. Sorry, Mr Umpire, that I'm not being original, but I feel one is needed.
I will offer a small bag of sweets to whoever shoots any dead members of the so-called 'lol-maf'. I cannot understand their in-jokes, so I want to get someone to shoot them.
The people that may be shot, therefore, are:
Edward Heaney
Stephen McCann
Thomas Booth
Lauren Grest
Adam Baird-Fraser
Gordon Ball
Charlotte Heron
Luci Sandbach
Alex Labram
If any of the alive members of'lol-maf' are shot, TWO (yes, TWO!!) bags of sweets will be delivered!
Going wanted/corrupt are encouraged. Suicides won't get any reward, as that is the easy way out.
If any attempts are made on the above, but the 'attempter' is killed by the 'target', then the 'target' in question will get the prize.
Comedy deaths, plus evidence, will get bonus prizes.
I hope to hear from you shortly.
Lol Idiot, Luci Sandbach is not a dead player.
In Trinity Hall
The porters would not show me
The Matric photo
BOOM BOOM!
Dearest, most delectable Umpire,
I bring you glad tidings, dearest Umpire, tidings of joy and triumph and extreme cruelty to unusual animals: Richard Manns, the Flooflebunny, responsible for much unsettling drooling over both your fine self and the lovely Steve McCann, has been eliminated.
[At this point I take a short break to admire the impressive amount of punctuation in this opener. I hear that you like grammatically-accurate reports.]
I had been targetting Mr. Manns for a while, but upon learning that he was the lecherous Flooflebunny, I took appropriate action.
I attacked the Flooflebunny for your honour and Steve's. Only one shot was required to bring him to justice, and it was delivered swiftly and surely to the heart. I trust that he felt no pain, and that he went with few regrets to wherever it is that dead Flooflebunnies go (I have a mental image of a room wallpapered with pictures of Cambridge's most pheared assassins for him to drool over).
But he is removed, and no longer need assassins roam Cambridge with constant worried backward glances, fearing for the safety of their backsides. I mean, backs.
Backs.
Obviously.
But anyway, just to let you know you can relax. And, again obviously, I
don't mean "relax" in the way the aerobics instructors do.
Regards,
Sarah
PS. He may have died, but if I'm honest I wouldn't really advise you to relax just yet.
PPS. There may or may not be plans involving body paint, bunny ears and little else.
PPPS. Don't drop the soap.
Dearest Umpire
Today I had an altercation with Ms Scott of Trinity Hall, to show her the error of her ways for calling me unhandsome. Surely, all assassins would agree that I am the most handsome, as well as the most pheared, assassin in Cambridge?! She charged me with a fluffy wabbit, which I would just like to point out, is a highly overused weapon this game. It missed, obviously deflected by my handsomness, or possibly scared of my phearsomness? I shot at her, but missed, which resulted in a knife throwing contest. I emerged as eventually victor, as she waited a moment (perhaps in awe of my handsomness so up close?) before throwing, whereas I did not.
I would like to claim my chcolates now, being the rightful heir of them anyway because I am so damn handsome and pheared.
Yours
Captain Charismatic, Steph "BOOM BOOM" Mersenne, The Big Heap of Noise
Despite describing Janet as 'slightly shorter than me, and with darker hair', and withdrawing to find weapons, I failed to hit my assassin with killer rabbit. Never have been able to throw properly...
Then discovered that you're not allowed to retrieve it and throw again. Didn't realise that. Ah well, such is life. Or death, actually. He was very nice about killing me, congratulated me on surviving so long (even if I am useless at the whole killing thing) and convinced me to play again. So you haven't got rid of me for long...
her housemate let me in. as follows:
housemate: "wei? are you in?"
**** SILENCE ***
HM: "i'm sure she's in, we just saw her.......WEI????! YOU THERE??
IT's [assassin] TO SEE YOU!?
*** SILENCE ***
Me: "is she ok?" (concerned sounding)
Hm: "yeah i think so, i just saw her on her computer, i know she's
in. WEI?!!!!! YOU THERE!!?"
Wei: "who is it?"
hm: "it's [assassin]!"
wei: "who's [assassin]??!"
me: "you know, it's [assassin] from MATHS!"
wei: "i don't know an [assassin] from MATHS"
me: (sounding hurt and looking with raised eyebrow at HM) "SURE you
do....why would you say that? now let me in. i came to see you!"
wei: "what do you want?"
me: (almost sarcastic) "TO KILL YOU!!!!!"
hm: laughs at the funny funny joke
wei: "well im not going o let you"
exit housemate and me
me: " are you sure she's ok? i know she's been under a lot of stress
lately...."
hm: "ii don't know!"
we both shake our heads, look worried and i leave.
At around 7pm tonight two people came knock on my door. The girl claimed to be my nextdoor neighbor Emily and almost fooled me until the guy introduced himself as "[someone] from Maths". It was quite a give-away so I stayed in my room despite my bladder control problem.
Tonight myself and several other officers of the law gathered to purge the streets of incompetents in one of a series of SWAT raids We called at several places, and gathered much valuable intelligence (particually on corky!).
Alas we were defeated on several occasions by people not opening their doors, but I bumped into Jonathan Pemberthy by chance and shot him after a chace through the grounds of Jesus. He then invited us to the bar- can I say Jesus has rather a good selection of real ales! He had previously survived an attempt by 20 assassins last week by being out when we called.
Those present on the raid were Inflammable Jim (myself), Penfold, The Short Arm, and The Kremlin
Yours,
T Branton
I stared blearily at the page in front of me. Geology, pah I took another pull from my hip flask and glanced at my watch. They would come soon I knew, word on the street was that incompetent cops were being rooted out. Incompetent, I felt a pang of shame at the thought, true I hadn't tried my best, neglecting my duties in favour of 'working' and such. My badge lay tarnished on my bedside table, by its side my service revolver the only thing in my glum apartment that was both cleaned and working, including myself. They were late, or my intelligence was wrong, I had decided to go down in a blaze of glory, take a few of them with me. Suddenly a knock, now was the time, i crept towards the door gun loaded by my side. Sadly it was a friend..."coming to the bar" was his innocent opening gambit. Briefly i considered a night in awaiting certain death versus a few beers and a good sing song....I left my gun behind too remembering how the general public react to armed officers. We left the staircase and proceeded towards the bar, then we were accosted: Do you know Hartigan said X a suspicious individual. Its them i thought, and my only weapon left in my room...my only hope was subterfuge.."uh yes, i know him" i smoothly replied "of course you do, its you" my 'friend' helpfully pointed out..Thus all hopes of survival lost i ran for it and after a brief glimpse at freedom I recieved a bullet through the back...
Thus ends my less then distinguished career, guess i should go finish my essay.
Grrr
19:55:00 - Leave safe house
20:00:00 - Arrive at dark, quiet street
20:01:00 - Cycle up and down street repeatedly
20:02:00 - Door to evil lair opens. Move in for close pass to investigate
20:02:20 - Possible target sighting
20:03:00 - Pretend to lock up bike on opposite side of road, as 'innocents' leave house
20:03:15 - Receive suspicious look from target. Suspicions confirmed?
20:04:00 - Cycle off v. slowly
20:04:10 - Target does assassin type suspicious glance.
20:04:30 - I do suspicious assassin type glance (Mistake number 1.)
20:05:00 - Target leaves door open. Continue to cycle slowly away to reduce suspicion
20:05:10 - Target charges
20:05:11 - Drop bike and run, thinking to take him out more easily on foot (Mistake no. 2)
20:05:15 - Realise target can run faster than I can get my guns out of my bag
20:05:18 - Wield backup RBG
20:05:22 - Hear target drop gun. Decide to kill him while I have the chance
20:05:25 - Realise mistake (no. 3) as I see that he has another larger gun (backpack type CPS...)
20:05:26 - Run very quickly
****Information removed for security reasons****
20:07:00 - Leave scene at high speed
20:10:00 - Arrive at safe house
lol COMPETENCE (?)
there's something really really GOOOOOD-feeling about giving chase to somebody and waving a gun at them
feels like.......victory
yeah i poped yo tire
and i be poppin a cap in yo' asss if you come 'dis way 'gen fo shizzle
The night was cold, but a SWAT team was to be assembled in spite of the chill. I rendezvoused with Inflammable Jim at a prearranged location, and we set off initially to raid the incompetent Kit Jenkins. However, although he was clearly in, he refused to answer his door. Thus failing to elicit a response from him, we rendezvoused with The Kremlin and proceeded to the residence of the incompetent policeman Hartigan.
While performing a brief reconnaissance, two people emerged from the staircase in question and proceeded in the direction of the bar. Inflammable Jim advanced on them to query them as to the whereabouts of the said Hartigan, while The Kremlin and I held back to provide backup should the need arise. We observed one of the two people break into a run followed by Inflammable Jim and took off in hot pursuit, surmising that this was the man we sought. Inflammable Jim, however, succeeded in apprehending the fleeing Hartigan, purging the force of his incompetence.
The next incompetent policeman to be raided was The Fun Police, who also failed to answer his door. At this point, Inflammable Jim and The Kremlin proceeded to raid Noir-Mort, while I remained behind in Christ's to await their return.
We rendezvoused again at Magdelene Bridge, Inflammable Jim now being replaced by Penfold, and we returned to make another raid on Kit Jenkins. This time, The Kremlin succeeded in gaining an open door, but Mr. Jenkins gained the advantage at the expense of The Kremlin's life. However, as he retreated back into his room with the corpse of The Kremlin, he ommitted the vital security step of closing his door, allowing Penfold and I to gain admittance and apprehend the red-handed killer.
Let us now take a moment of silence to honour the death of The Kremlin, who fell in the line of duty.
At 10:05 today, I met up with two fellow officers, and headed to St. Peter's Terrace, where we hoped to find and dispatch the notorious incompetent, Noir-Mort. After consulting two of her supposed neighbours, we concluded it likely that she was in the JCR. Which appeared closed to us due to the advanced security of the p'lodge.
Next was Magdalene, where dwelled the nefarious inco, Kit Jenkins. One of us knocked at his door while we lurked nearby, but recieved a fatal shot to the chest in reply. Hiding around the corner, I saw him drag the body into his lair, absent-mindedly leaving the door ajar. As we crept towards the door, we heard strange noises coming from inside. After assuring ourselves that he was not on his guard, we burst in, to find him sitting with his back to the door, the body of our fallen comrade propped up against the desk. We charged, my partner hitting him first with a shot to the back, which I followed by slicing his right arm off at the shoulder with my sword.
The city of Cambridge takes one step closer to competence... but a policeman's work is never done.
Comrades,
Today a respected agent of the Internal Security division fell in the line of duty. His sacrifice in the name of the People will be remembered and he is officially declared a Hero of the Soviet Union posthumously.
It is with pride that the Kremlin can announce that the death of this valued member of the state's secret police did not go in vain. During the raid two counterrevolutionaries were accosted and eliminated, the last slain in righteous fury by the comrades of the departed officer, enraged at his foul murder by an enemy of the state. However two miscreants that were targeted are still at large and the People are reminded that any act that might lead to their deaths is the patriotic duty of every member of the Revolution.
It is also to the credit of the internal security division that foul treachery was necessary to slay their officer. While storming the room of the target the officer entered a shoot-out with the miscreant and attempted to discharge his weapon at the target. However due to dastardly sabotage of the ammunition by imperialist spies and bourgeois infiltrators the officer's weapon failed to discharge correctly. Since the workmanship of the content workers in the Workers' Paradise can not have been at fault it is left to conclude that sabotage must have been responsible. Investigation is underway and the heads of the saboteurs will be obtained in retribution.
Comrades, you are asked to join the Central Committee in mourning and respect for the passing of this valued member of society, and in outrage against the unjustifiable sabotage campaign that lead to his death.
Today I heroically lurked Peterhouse hall at lunchtime for 45 minutes waiting for Charlotte Sayers. However she did not appear to turn up. I will try again later, probably at about 6pm...
Stardate 2005AD Nov 17th 4:15pm
Made first contact with a being known as Xanth near the planet Xanthanion. We exchanged physical greetings by way of hand waving. Scanners noticed that power was diverting from panic systems towards weapons so I ordered full thrust ahead to the safety that is the market world Sansburies.
Later about 7pm my ship attempted a more detailed scan of Xanthanion but alas got lost in the [college] nebula and arrived at the wrong door across the hall. Feeling ashamed of the bad navigation of my crew, we retreated to the homeworld of Caius
End of Log
People walking by,
People walking by,
Tra la la,
Tra la la,
People walking by.
Is that my target there?
Is that my target there?
Tra la la,
Tra la la,
Is that my target there?
Did he go this way?
Did she go that way?
Tra la la,
Tra la la,
Did they go that way?
Running out of steam.
Running out of steam.
Tra la la,
Tra la la,
Try another day.
Nice iPod.
Just in from Lady Tottington,
On account of their love of wealistic militawy hawdwear and their hatwed for fluffy cweatures, we would like to place a bounty on all look-alikes of Victor Quartermaine that the assassin population may have... Do you think you could solve this pwoblem hu-May-ne-ely, Wallace?
1415: Moooo.
1425: Mooooooooo?
1435: Mooooooooooooooooooooooooo?
1437: Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?!
1438: Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?!!
1439: Moo.
1515: Moooo.
1530: Moooooo.
1550: Mooooo.
1555: Mooooooooooooooooooooooo.
1600: Moooo.
1610: Mooo?
1615: Moo.
The History Faculty, in their incompetence, have decided to close early today, and not inform us of this until two hours before closing. Nor will they be open tomorrow. However I noted that the Sidgwick Site is in fact rather close to Newnham (not that I'd have any reason to go there normally, of course), so I arranged to meet Special Constable Borin in the plodge at 3.15.
After eating some of the delicious biscuits on sale, we progressed to Wei's room, and she was out. A cunning plan formed, by which Sam would wait outside her room, and I'd go to her "other" room on Barton Road. I hung around next to the bus stop for twenty minutes. I befriended the cat that seems to live there. Just as I was about to give up and go home, one of her neighbours opened the front door, and in I went.
The neighbour knocked on Wei's door, but there was no response. Her parents arrived, and I used the opportunity to sneak into the shadows. She seemed to be under the impression that I'd left, and went out with her parents.
Time passed. I became aware that Wei was listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack and started humming along, before I remembered that the Umpire doesn't approve of musicals. So Wei Li must be ultimately evil.
Eventually she opened the door, looking rather piratical; I shot at her, and she retreated very rapidly, screaming like an air-raid siren. One of her housemates appeared from the living-room and went upstairs, apparently unperturbed by either the scream or the strange man reloading a toy gun in the hallway.
Of course, she couldn't resist the temptation to open the door again to see if I'd gone. She was, admittedly, armed, but in the event she never got to fire...
I was shot right in the face while on my second attempt to go to the washroom. but really Tom deserves to have me killed cause he's such a patient man. It must be an hr (or two?) while he waited quietly in the corridor. I later met with two other my killers and one of them emailed me about playing bridge. He then clarified he actually didn't play bridge at all and thus didn't want to play with me. How disappointing!
The Umpire notes that, while he does not disapprove of musicals, he prefers operas. He does disapprove of musicals masquerading as operas.
Friday 18th November 3:15 pm Meet Deuce in Newnham P'lodge, to go hunting Wei Li. Go to Wei's room. She does not answer her door. I lurk for her while Deuce goes to her boyfriend's house in Barton Road.
4:00 pm Stephen McCann turns up at Wei's staircase, aware that I am there already. He tells me that Deuce has confirmed Wei's presence in Barton Road. We head in the direction of Barton Road.
4:15 pm (approx.) Recieve word from Deuce that he has killed Wei. Go to Barton Road to meet him. Go to Wei's boyfriend's house to tell her that the e-mail I sent her regarding bridge was bogus, thus discovering that she had been fooled by it!
And now it's time for me to tell you about Young Nasty Man - arch-rival and nemesis of Wonder Boy, with powers comparable to Wonder Boy.
What powers, you ask?
I don't know, how about the power of flight? Do anything for you? That's levitation, Holmes.
How about the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away with mind bullets. That's telekinesis, Phil.
How about the power... to move you?
Dear Umpire,
At approximately 16:57 on the 19th day of November in the year two thousand and five, I did meet my maker.
At 16:55, all was going well. I had just finished my last practical lab, and was making my escape from the land of the CL. I had reached the stables, and was proceeding to make ready my horse. As I was doing so, I saw my assassin (although I was not sure of this at the time) walking along the front of the building, with another member of the guild of the non-playing variety.
I felt that this was a bad thing, but seeing as we had both seen each other, and seen that we had seen each other, I thought that I would be safe if I made a quick getaway. I waited for them to enter the building (the assassin seemed to be too paranoid to open the door himself), and then moved like the wind.
Unfortunately, after I had travelled about four steps, my horse got caught on a protrusion in the stables. At this point, I panicked. As I was franticly freeing my horse, I heard the evil sound of running footsteps.
I ran, reaching for my trusty pistol. This proved not to work particularly well, as I slipped on the grass as I started to turn, fell, and heard the terrible sound of a gun going off.
Then it all went black...
Yours in death,
Martin Matthew Mariuz Mazreal, Third Lord of Leicester
Tra la la in the cold,
Tra la la nose is ice.
Tra la la none is sold,
Tra la la but my vice.
Today at 3.40pm I began lurking the house of Charlotte Sayers. After a charming neighbour of hers let me in and told me where the bathroom was (and I bless her for that) I went upstairs to check out Charlotte's room. Realising there were only 3 rooms in her part of the corridor, I drew a gun on the first girl to appear (the neighbour who had let me in and then casually asked who I was looking for, which if you think about it too much becomes suspicious). I took a step towards her in what I thought was a not-entirely-menacing manner, asked "Are you who I'm looking for?" to which she replied, "Um... I think so..."
I took another step forward with the gun raised, at which point she began yelling, "Ah! Don't! I'm dead, okay, I'm dead!" which I thought was rather accommodating of her. I said, "Um... okay... so I... um...if I... bang?" (I'd've said something better, but the submissive panic moment had thrown me a bit), and THEN she chose to ask me who I was looking for.
Was she Charlotte? No, she was Alice, the dead assassin living next door. Good grief. I didn't believe her at first, so I hope my repeatedly asking her who she was didn't cause too much offence on top of the mutilation.
I went outside and lurked the front door for a bit, convinced that Charlotte must be out, then checked her window and realised she was either inside or didn't give a toss about energy conservation. Waited for another person to enter and followed them back inside.
Following almost 1.5 hours of boredom, Steve McCann turned up and managed to act suspiciously enough (turning away and pretending to be very interested in the sign saying "shower") to get a neighbour to ask if we were assassins. Soon after, a girl came in the front door who looked marginally familiar; I asked if she was Charlotte (she wasn't); she continued upstairs and a few moments later I heard a couple of girls shrieking "Bad assassin!" much as you would tell off a naughty puppy.
Steve appeared, told me he had killed two non-Charlottes, and we left.
So ends the biggest cock-up of this game?
I went over to Charlotte Sayers room at the end of my mystery assassin friend's lurk, so that i could go and be a slightly less subtle police type :) When My mystery assassin friend left i knocked on her door, no answer, then i heard voices at the bottom of the stairs, one of which was my mystery assassin friend... so i hid next to the room. A girl walked over towards the 3 rooms in a corridor, of which Charlotte's is one of them. I recognised this girl from being in most of Charlotte's facebook pics, at least i think it was her, so i asked her if she was charlotte and pointed a gun at her, she claimed to be someone else, so i shot her. She still denied it, then the girl alice came out and called me a bad assassin, so i shot her. (apologies for the gratuitous shooting of alice, but i was offended that she would call me a bad assassin, i'm an "unsubtle" assassin dammit!) Then i ran away to catch my mystery assassin friend, and tell her about my possible success. I wonder was that actually Charlotte. My mystery assassin friend says she saw the girl on the way in and thought she looked like the facebook girl.
Dearest Umpire People keep trying to kill me!! shocking isnt it! Well they are failing miserably and a boy just tried (5.55pm 19th) and failed but shot and killed two of my housemates in the stomach with an elastic bans gun...therefore he killed two innocents (he had an accomplice downstairs too!) anyway, i hope they get punished accordingly! yours Noir-Mort
For shooting an innocent, crimes against literacy and general muppetry, Stephen Matthew Thomas McCann is made wanted. He will be redeemed for killing one incompetent player and one incompetent police officer.
Heya,
As I continued my incobash quest, I went to Peterhouse hall. On arrival i was obviously not very subtle when i heard a girl say "it's an assassin" to her friends, i hid and then spied her reaching for a pen from her bag... could this pen have been labelled KIFE!
Deciding that my earlier innocent butchering was a bit uncalled for, i left by the opposite exit of Peterhouse to where this girl went, and ran to the entrance of Charlotte's house. The girl i'd seen earlier appeared about a minute later and walked into the house, i ran up to her and called, "Charlotte", she initially tried to run and then hurled some abuse at me, when i bang-killed her. She was angry and convinced that her identity was not Charlotte Sayers. Oh well!
I will get you Charlotte Sayers, if i have to kill all the Petrians to do so!
Now that all the incompetent players have been killed, Steve McCann will be redeemed for killing five incompetent police officers.
Today I wasted rather a lot of time lurking CXharlotet Sayers, but didn't fiund her. Then, adfter I gave up and went home to get resady for formal, I saw her in Trinity bar!! and I was like OMFG no F-ing way!!
I'd passed someone I recogniosed form the Peterhouse lurk on the way to the Ladies' in the bar, and she was talking to someone I knew who'd said hello to me so I joined the conversation and then went "Hey! Arfen't you from Peterhouse?" and she was like "yES, yes I am," and I wentr "Don't yuo know Cxharlotte?" and she said, "??Yeah, she's here too actually,2" AND (damn capslock key) I went "Is she the one in blue over there?" and she said, "Yeah" - and I went over and stabbed her.
It was fun, and the Peterhouse people were loveluy. I'm very glad I had a chance to apologise to a neighbour I may have freaked out a bit during the previous lurk. I didn't mean to, and I'm very sorry if I appeared to be a crap assassin, I was slightly stressed at the possibility of going imncompetnet and not as happy as I am now. Charlotte isd absolutely lovely, she should play again sometime.
Then I went to a party and had whiskey as well as all the wine form formal and got very very ahppy and lost the abiluity to type.
Yay for litereary dysliecxia!!
Also the whiskey was crap.
Regards,
Sarah
PS. Having actually seen you face to face I can assure the readership that you are indeed fine; I still support the "Steve McCann is fit" campaign though, and probably will do for a while yet...
PPS. Saw Richard Manns aka Flooflebunny tonight; all I can say is "watch your back".
OK, Fairplay...
she had been stalking me all day
but did i really deserve
for my drink to be disturbed?
My incompetence has ended
but not how i expected
at least now i can rest
and next term Ill do better than my best!
yeh, well done to you Sarah, I'm impressed, I think it must have been fate for you to randomly bump into me at the Trinity bar last night, and stab me in the hip...what a nice greeting!!
From the late and great Noir-Mort (Lady Sayers)
May she rest in peace
Dear Umpire
Last night, I lurked Corky's room for Sarah Donnelly. It was a long, patient lurk, though out of the cold and in the presence of alcohol and a drunk Tom Booth, both of which made it infinitely more entertaining than a normal lurk.
When she finally turned up, I went for my gun, but oh no! I was sat next to the Umpire! I quickly re-concealed my weapon to prevent any sort of fire fight that could possibly injure your good self.
Can I have competence now please?
Yours
Nick Plummer
Running out of Lines,
To sing my little tune.
Tra la la
Tra la la
Try another room.
Dear Sir/Honoured Madam,
please to be accepting this gift of an elastic band from my ancestors.terms
and conditions apply.
Just when I was getting ready to set off to lurk [target's] house. I saw Miss Boyce outside trying to peer through my house's windows. Picking up a handy CPS, I crept downstairs, and hid behind the door to the house, peeping through the peephole to make sure she was still there. Flicking the lock and turning the handle, I lept outside, finger on the trigger, to find Phil Bielby saying "she went that way" and pointing in the direction of Hughes Hall. I gave chase but could not find her, so hung around a bit until I got cold, and went inside.
Arrive at target's road, locate house. Go and park my bike and return to find a lurking spot. Lurk briefly, then decide that my odds of actually killing Nick from my lurking spot are negligible, and relocate. Realise that the house is now between me and my bike. Oops. Oh well, there's not much sense in moving it now. Lurk for 2 hours in the cold, don't see Nick. Go to get my bike. Peer into the house as I go past. Spot Nick. Spot Nick spotting me. Oops. Run away before Nick comes out of the house with a CPS. Nick comes out of the house with a CPS. Realise I'm going to have to back past his house to get back to college. Go and hide in a meeting of the Greek and Cypriot society for half an idea, consuming much needed hot chocolate and chocolate log and other traditional Greek delicacies. Cycle very fast back past his house.
Am told that Nick has been lurking one of my possible retreats. Hide a bit longer. Surely this was meant to be me trying to kill him, not vice versa?
1630: Proceed in the direction of Bateman Street, to rid it of that enemy of Caius psycho skid. How dare he soil a street named after such a figure in MY college with his presence?
1635: Spot a figure matching my intelligence's description leaving the area, heading towards town. Tail him using my covert surveillance skills learnt during my Army days. Those were the days.
1645: Suspect enters Sainsburys. I follow.
1646: Suspect heads towards the fruit'n'veg. Disguise myself as a tray of onions to continue surveillance.
1650: Break cover, and head towards suspect. Say "Steve?" on passing. Suspect flinches. Disguise myself as a chiller full of bacon round the corner in case of retaliation.
1651: Undisguise myself. Suspect has fled.
1652: Being thorough search of Sainsburys for suspect.
1657: Call off search. Suspect pressumed to have fled.
1658: Enter the queue to purchase my rations.
1705: Leave the queue, and Sainsbury's all together. Cull a row of bicycles to take out my anger. Anger unsatiated.
El Burrell's contiene a veces mi assassin. No en el momento.
the badger that doesn't leave his cette risks being dug out of it when the nasty-men come.
Having eaten in Teri Aki's a chopstick was duly labelled 'Knife' and our esteemed umpire was stabbed just outside.
I would like to add that his ghost later suggested that the best thing that could be made with the skin of a rabbit was underwear...
This proves that I was correct to kill him, as, despite being a lot more handsome than Victor Quartermaine, he is a menace to fluffy creatures that do not wish to end up as his pants...
The Umpire reports:
Teri Aki's is a nice restaurant. It would be better if the waitresses wore cute frilly dresses, though.
...so let us all wish a happy birthday to David Proctor, and celebrate the occasion with cake in the presence of His Umpiricalness, the Umpire himself. Let us also thank certain persons there present for the gift of such fine cake, for we have tasted and seen that it was indeed good. So good, in fact, that we ate it all. Let also the wine of celebration flow (but don't spill it on the carpet, please...)
In other news, the weeding out of those designated 'incompetent' in the police force continues, with the uprooting of one Stinging Nettle in Queens' College.
At about 10.30pm Sunday night I was brutally murdered by Tim Bartram whilst my paranoia had been replaced with a sore head. Considering the coldness of the night I consider it quite evil to use a water pistol as the weapon! OK, so it was quite a pathetic water pistol, and it was my boyfriend's fleece... Ah! Maybe it was the fleece that did it! Maybe he too has a hatred of fluffy -looking creatures...
The Short Arm would like to note that the said water pistol was the only weapon he was armed with at the time, and that he has no particular aversions to fluffiness. He would also like to apologise for any percieved damages caused to said fleece, be they real or otherwise.
Competence deadlines can do strange things to a man. Like hiding in his room eating junk food, while fretting that he should be lurking someone. Like watching crap films such as the new Harry Potter, while fretting that he should be lurking someone. Like attacking friends outside cinemas having watched said film, while fretting that perhaps he should have gone and lurked someone so it didn't have to come to this.
He didn't expect her to return fire though!
TACTICAL RETREAT!
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