The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 Newslurking around a certain college, early on this mist shrouded dawn, I spot my target (head_vampire) and follow him for some time. My hidden pistols failed to make an impression on the back of his head, missing both ears with both shots by mere millimeters. Needless to say, spooked, my target turns around, turns out not to be (head_vampire), but another assassin whose name (and thrown dagger) escaped me as I sprinted past porters arising from the depths of their sleeping bags.....
Dearest Umpire
I joined some strange beings at *a pub in Cambridge* to sally forth on the great INCOBASH.
First inco - not in.
Second inco - I skip to hand in work. Turns out he was in, and was despatched in a swordfight.
I attempt to catch up with the INCOBASH at Johns. When I meet them, I'm informed that all the fun has been had already - i.e. no inco's
were killed, and the INCOBASH and COP has been embarressed by the heavily armed and unhelpful INCOS.
Some other incos - aren't in.
Some people in Jesus - are afraid of us.
A girl in Jesus - is harassed.
Go home.
INCOBASH RULEZ!
While awaiting the arrival of our esteemed umpire, we noticed three suspicious
dudes headed in the direction of Selwyn, one bearing a significant beard.
Much as I desired to pursue them, as an officer of the law I was bound to a
higher power, and thus could not engage them.
After a disappointment in Queens' we proceeded to Clare, the location of my
previous untimely demise.
*****
With him thus eliminated we then proceeded to John's, and I was told off for
my actions by our esteemed Chief of Police...apparrently knocking on a door
with a wildfire levelled at it isn't "subtle" enough, or something. However,
I feel my approach paid off when we came to face Messers Davies, Rowell and
Le Gynt bearing a CPS on our way out, perhaps summoned by the cowardly Ms
White, presumed still cowering in her room. Or rather, it would have done,
had not the Dread Porters intervened.
We then proceeded onward and upwards to Blue Boar, and then downwards again,
to Jesus, where much fun and frolics was had. Highlights include:
One fellow running away from us bearing what appeared to be THE SAME BEARD
FROM EARLIER IN THE AFTERNOON.
Another, claiming to be a Mr French, heading towards us with RBGs drawn, then
fleeing after I twitched up the bottom of my coat to show him my weaponry.
Two dudes recognising us as assassins, and then attempting to convince me that
a girl they met was one of our incos.
Said girl cowering and eventually showing me her driving license.
A friendly chat with the mysterious Duke, reportedly head of FresherMaf.
After this certain persons were lame and went home, but myself and Constable
Booth proceeded onwards to the lair of the notorious Mr How. His housemates
attempted to shower us with an (easily evaded) bottle of water, then informed
us that he was not present and might perhaps be found in the UL.
Winding up our day, we moved on to Downing.
*****
We also saw what may or may not have been someone with THE SAME
BEARD ONCE AGAIN, from a great distance. Heading towards Pembroke to attempt
to intercept such prooved fruitless.
After that, PC Booth declared himself too tired to continue to the UL for
another attempt on Mr How, so we went our separate ways.
Final score:
Incobash: 2, Incompetents: 0, Beard: ?
Code red, we have police crawling through johns, scramble the troops
........
Company
Present arms
Company
Take aim
Company
Run away from
. Porters
Drat
. Next time
So, police, when you return to your homeland, and you tell others of this college. When you tell them of its riches, and its incos. When you talk of St. Johns, then make sure you tell them this. It is DEFENDED!
Dear ClareMaf,
La la la, unicorns L.A.
Yours sincerely,
Philip Bielby
At 15:15 this afternoon, I was calmly walking down the stairs out of my staircase. Standing there talking were 2 innocent(ish)
looking individuals, both known to me and thought to be beyond suspicion. One of these told me to "wait there" and came bounding
down towards me, after a quick greeting she shot me - straight in the chest, using a high-calibre, but slightly going-brown banana.
This naturally took me a few seconds to realise what had happened. Was I really dead? However I realised in fact i was dead. So I collapsed onto the floor. My assassin told
me that it wasn't a good enough reaction and demanded we run through the entire scene again. Alas this time the screams were so
realistic that the slacking arts students in the nearby rooms were slightly perturbed.
[Scene: One day in Teletubby land. Laa-laa and Po are in the Tubbytronic Superdome. Tinky Winky approaches down the stairs]
Po: Eh-oh!
Tinky Winky: Eh-oh!
P: Ayt!
T: [waits]
Scary narrator: Time for tubby bye-byes!
P: [brandishes banana] Ang! HeHeHe.
T: Me bye-bye?
P: Again Again!
[scene rewinds]
Scary narrator: Time for tubby bye-byes!
P: Ang!
T: [GIRLY SCREAMING]
[Dipsy comes running]
Dipsy: Skweamin?
Laa-laa: Inky winky go bye bye!
Dipsy: Oh.
Cast:
Tinky Winky - Julian Granger-Bevan
Dipsy - Dave, a lazy arts student
Laa-laa - Marie, an innocent bystander
Po - The Very Small
No teletubbies were harmed during the killing of Julian Granger-Bevan.
The umpire reminds players that all activities assassins engage in should be reported to him and apologises for the confusion in this instance.
Today I knocked on David Jeremy Sharples door. He poked a pen out through his spyhole. Oh Noes! It wasn't labelled knife, and it went
nowhere near me.
Now, in order for an assassin to make a knife kill, there are two prerequisites.
1) The knife must hit the assassin and not just fall out of a door a few metres away.
2) The knife must be labelled "knife". Otherwise it is merely a pen and of limited utility, unless you want to write something down.
The Umpire notes that one may not make kills through spyholes/letterboxes/etc anyway.
I decided to choose a weapon combination for elegance over functionality, and, boldly leading the charge, rapidly found myself crossing swords with the incompetent James Rainford. My calls for backup went unheeded, since, as it later emerged, our esteemed Chief of Police had lead one of his famous "tactical retreats" to the next staircase along. However, after a furious duel and brief discussion, we concluded that I had skewered him moments before his decapitation attempt struck home.
Killed by blade after a furious dule with my assilent his foam blade pirced my gaurd, my saber proved less effective then i would have wished though my counter attack would have taken him to hell with me. Though i gave account as best i could afterwards we mutaly agreed that he had got me first. So passes the Eye of Kain. I shall have my vengence.
The Duke was glad to be out in the night air. The foul poison which had stifled his veins was finally purged. His body, filled with renewed purpose, was tense as he sought his next victim. No luck on this trip, but maybe soon his twin blades would strike again...
Com-m-mpany: VASELINE INCORPORATED (VEXE at PK)
Restricts are removed, market are waiting for explosion.
Let's do it.
Now last: 0.62 ... up
78673768726633707539456633687A
After company will finish it new project price will go sky.
Buy today to make better profit.
Oh dear, I seem to have done it again.
Violet
Constable Booth noticed a mysterious dude following us. Turning and drawing weapons, we attempted to track him down, to discover him emerging from the plodge. While he made a commendable but doomed attempt to bang-kill me from some 3m away, my gun unfortunately misfired, so it was left to Constable Booth to spray him from behind, which he did with much gusto
Dear Umpire,
I am dead. "I can rest easy," I thought, "knowing that Tom Booth has left Cambridge forever. In fact, I feel so secure that I can wander on
over to Sainsbury's unbeweaponed. I think I know that devillish figure, that rakish moustachio'd face. Is it... Tom Booth?" "Hullo." A
polite but firm stab followed. Tom Booth is a policeman. I see.
Dead dead dead. TB 3 - AMH 0 (no nudity was involved this time. my deaths are at least getting more wholesome)
Amos
(to be sung to a funky Caribbean tune)
Tom: In Mich 03 there was a criminal in Homer-ton
And I headed over for the slaughter
The police got there first and when I heard I cursed
It threw my targetting graph out of order.
And they said, 'This boy's a natural assassin',
Born to be all obsessive and snotty.
I made Raccoon and Revelation fill out long applications
To get into my Start of Game Party.
Lottie: But something changed when my man turned pro.
Tom: I was playin' but I wasn't winnin'.
Lottie: He forgot that it's not about J Doe points.
Tom: It's supposed to be about the killing!
People, we didn't choose to be assassins,
No, that's what almighty Jah made us.
We'd treat people like swine, and only talk online,
Even if nobody paid us.
They say the world looks down on the assassins,
They say we're anal, compulsive, and weird.
But when push comes to shove, you gotta do what you love
Even if it's not a good idea.
Charles!
Charles: They said I probably shouldn't be an Umpire.
Heaney: They said my internet humour was jaded.
Raccoon: They said I'm probably going to die with just one eye.
Solitude: Wait there, and I'll kill you while naked.
Tom: Everybody sing 'Jamaica'!
Everyone: Jamaica!
Tom: Just the Assassins.
Assassins: Jamaica!
Tom: The PhDs.
Raccoon: ...Jamaica.
Tom: Sing me Home!
When push comes to shove, you gotta do what you love, even if it's not a
good idea.
Enough nostalgia for a lifetime. Any tears from the oldies?
The assasin sat through the meeting, wondering if anyone would notice his suspicious preasence. Blending In by standing out, he waited. After the long wait till the close, he approched his target, who seemed blissfully unaware of her coming demise. "Miss Eason" "Yes"... The shot rang through the air. "Aww" "Yeah, sorry about that" The assasin did feel a little guilty, Miss Eason is a very nice incompetant. He resolved to buy her a drink later if he saw her in the bar. He didnt feel guilty any more. Deaf Blind Dumb was content.
Four. Hundred. Fish.
One. Net.
The shoal surfaced at a watering hole known to be frequented by Colin Love.
Waiting under the surface for Colin Love to appear, there was no sign all evening.
Left the watering hole, and swam to Colin Love's room.
The sound of Four. Hundred. Fish. swimming up stairs alerted other humans, who
aided Four. Hundred. Fish. in navigation.
Upon reaching the correct door, heard from within 'one minute'
One minute later, the door opened, and a human emerged, and was quickly
despatched by Four. Hundred. Fish., some of them darting at him.
Ascertaining that this was not infact Colin Love, and the door opening a second
time, Four. Hundred. Fish. were caught in a net fired from within, before they
could swarm the human inside.
The Umpire reminds players that should they bring about the death of an innocent, they will be held responsible and made wanted.
Due to the confusion in this case, he will be lenient and offer a redemption condition of 1 licit kill.
Link ascended the final stairway to the top of Ganon's Tower, ready for his final confrontation with the latest monstrous incarnation of
evil. Unfortunately the dread portal to Ganon's lair was watched over by an Iron Knuckle sentinel - Link decided to return to Castle Town
to gather more fairies in his bottles and so postponed the ultimate battle for now.
Let it be noted by the forces of Ganon that Link, holder of the Triforce of Courage, has no concept of fear and so is not concerned by
digestive biscuits being used as an offensive weapon against him.
LUSSURIOSO
[Aside] Fine villain! Troth, I like him wondrously.
He's e'en shap'd for my purpose.--Then thou know'st
I' th' world strange lust.
VINDICI
Oh, Dutch lust! Fulsome lust!
Drunken procreation, which begets
So many drunkards! Some father dreads not, gone
To bed in wine, to slide from the mother
And cling the daughter-in-law,
Some uncles are adulterous with their nieces,
Brothers with brothers' wives. Oh, hour of incest!
Any kin now next to the rim a' th' sister
Is man's meat in these days, and in the morning
When they are up and dress'd, and their mask on,
Who can perceive this save that eternal eye
That sees through flesh and all well. If anything be damn'd,
It will be twelve a' clock at night; that twelve
Will never 'scape:
So, I hear that Link and The Duke ran away from me the other day. Odd, since I couldn't even hurt them. Perhaps I'm just
that phearsome...
In fact, they disappeared so fast I almost thought I might have made a mistake and in fact spotted Micheal Patrick Wallace, but this proved
not to be the case. Maybe he's been giving lessons...
Cowards :P
The Ballad of Brave Sir Duke
Bravely bold Sir Duke rode forth from Jesus college.
He was not afraid to die, O brave Sir Duke!
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways,
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Duke!
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp,
Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken;
To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away;
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Duke!
Brave Sir Duke ran away.
Bravely ran away, away!
When danger reared its ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Duke turned about
And gallantly he chickened out.
Bravely taking to his feet
He beat a very brave retreat,
Bravest of the brave, Sir Duke!
Meerkat of Doom is most disappointed that nobody's tried to kill him yet.
Lurking my targets lecture, I have decided to issue the following warning to the masses, if you insist on:
Attending the same lectures as my target
Attending the same college as my target
Wearing the same scarf as my target
Looking somewhat like my target
And finally, answering to my targets name
Then it is just possible I may mistake you for my target, and make you less alive than you may desire.
I shall now go home and arm myself to the teeth. But first...
...I shall on my way home pass by the same said lecture. Upon which I see someone who:
Is attending the same lectures as my target
Attends the same college as my target
Is wearing the same scarf as my target
Looks somewhat like my target
And finally, answers to my targets name
They were also dispatched, and this time proved to in fact be my target.
Number of Fran-lookalikes trained to answer to the name "Fran": 27
Number of real Frans forgetting to not answer to the name "Fran": 1.
Whoops-a-daisy.
The Umpire notes that instructing non-players to pose as you is a little naughty and is likely to result in you being made wanted should they die. In this case though, it's a little late.
lmm: hi
solitude: hi
lmm: still wanted?
* solitude pulls gun
* lmm runs
* solitude chases
* solitude fires 4 shots into lmm's back
Today, I went with A mutated ill tempered sea bass to Jesus, where we attempted to off David Jeremy Sharples. Unfortunately he defeated us,
through the power of absence. We then journeyed to Fitz, where I had a nice chat with some dude... and then conveniently forgot to murder
him. What a scatterbrain I am... To round it all off, Daniel Heap employed similar snide tactics of being elsewhere to thwart our raid on
his residence. Thus ends a throroughly disappointing afternoon. It was also cold.
The Phantom Raspberry Blower of Old London Town
We have a special breed of incompetent with us this game, so incompetent in fact that they have forgotten even where they live, and thus are not there to be dispatched. This is most upsetting.
Wednesday 7th Feb, 19.30 - lurked about a bit for Deadly koala of doom.
I presume you have brought people to kill me?
No no, Im on my own I assure you
Ok, good
*Stab*
Oh, so youre playing then?
Yes
.
Hmmm, perhaps I need to work on my identification skills. However, the frequency at which people looking like my targets seem to appear near their homes is somewhat scary. At least I got the real deal too!
Mr Umpiricality,
I'm sorry to announce my tragic, untimely
death: I was brutally slain by a jolly nice
chap with a rubber-band gun at half past 11
this morning. No flowers please-though
donations to the Heap trust for the
enrichment of Daniel would be welcome lol.
Me
A nightly visitation, come to herald the onset of your doom. A dark shadow slipping into your abode in dead of night. Your face is known, your home is found, your death is upon you.
Lurked outside the Lecture Theatre where one of [censored]'s lectures was to take place today until everyone had left. No sign of [censored]- may not have braved the treacherous snow ...
Today I woke and was filled with joy at the novel whiteness of the snow. Sadly I was dragged from my bed by my obligations to the rowing team. On my return I noticed a cunningly disguised by still suspicious piece of post in my pigeon hole - NHS travel booklet? Private and Confidential? Therefore I hurried back to my lair for some safe analysis it and assertained a new type of poison mascerading as glitter. The fiendish letter has now been disposed off. In frustration at the continuing attempts on my life I went to lurk in Clare for Goostaph but he was not in.
At 6:37 today, I met George Davies as he was returning home. Foolishly he was carrying not one, but two guns, so I deftly beat him over the head with a cosh and shot him mercilessly.
Mark Scott left his room unlocked and ajar.
The fool. I quickly dispatched him.
As Link re-entered Castle Town a dark cloud gathered above the square, where a mighty warrior of Hyrule was battling one of the fiendish
shadow beasts alone. Link rushed to help, but the hero fell before he could be reached. Link charged and severed the shadow beast's head in
one fell swoop and avenged the fallen soul.
The Twilight King shall pay for this.
Dear Umpire,
It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that this morning, while I was clipping the parrot's claws, my pet Attack Hippopotamus escaped. He
was recaptured some way down the road, lunching on the brutally mauled remains of Mr Daniel Ross. Quite uncharacteristic behaviour for both
parties. The beast has been warned that any further killing will be treated most severely.
Violet.
Look around you.
Look around you.
Just look around you.
Have you worked out what we're looking for?
Correct.
The answer is
Hippopotami.
Please ensure you have your copybook at hand, as you'll be asked to take down notes from the screen at various points through out the
programme.
Let's start with the basics: What is a hippopotamus? A hippopotamus, or ``Hippo'' as we shall refer to it, is a highly unique creature. In
fact, it is the unique integer solution of this mysterious equation:
x^27 + y^27 = z^27
This was proven by the ancient Greeks--a very clever bunch who, not to be deterred by a lack of accessible hippopotami, commissioned
Alexander the Great to search the world for counterexamples. Any that were found were destroyed on sight, satisfying the world of the truth
of the theorem. After a struggle, we can see that it remains true for the newly discovered parts of the world by induction.
Experiment 1:
An experiment was carried out to observe the interactions between hippopotami, crocodiles, and penguins, and to thus determine how they
manage to so successfully coexist.
We place a hippo, a penguin, and a crocodile on the street in front of the Fitzwilliam Art Museum and wait for the bell to sound 2.7182818
times.
The experiment can now begin.
The penguin is immediately grabbed by the mad hatter and dropped just as quickly, because he is too hot. While the hatter searches for
Alice's oven mitt, the hippopotamus just stands there, completely blocking the pavement. The crocodile froze instantly at the sight.
This latter observation appears to have angered the hippo. Note how he starts grunting and shifting agitatedly. Here he is, approaching
(quite rapidly) and opening his mouth. This is a perfect opportunity to study the teeth of this fine specimen. Now that he is no longer
completely blocking the pavement, we go in for a closer look...
...
*static*
*shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh**
Nobody died, and yet someone is dead. And so it vanishes in a puff of contradiction.
It would seem that the dead are unaffected by even the most fiersome raspberries.
Walking home
Someone with a gun
Run Away
Uh-oh, There are more of them
Oh Bugger
*Bang*
Subject: Rocket Stock Report
This one is on the move!! Who? *LARP*
LARP DOESN'T SLEEP IT WILL EXPLODE on Friday !!!!
Trade Date: Friday, February 09, 2007
Organization: Treasure Trap Inc. Mortality Solutions
Ticker: LARP
Current: $0.065 +0.006 +10.2%
Short Term Target: $$$
Treasure Trap Inc. is a Warner Corporation trading in hat corsets. For lmm in a
dress and level three mageballs use ticker symbol LARP!
LARP is a Mortality Solutions provider. Going to LARP brings you closer to
Death! Creators of the Guaranteed Ambush package, as well as the Conspicuous
Clothing option. LARP for the easy way to die!
Now go check your favorite news source. Check your Level 2 XP. You will see
that LARP is set for an explosion!
Surgeon-general's warning: Long-term LARP causes cancer.
...and the third part of the sun was smitten, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars; so as the third part of them
was darkened, and the day shone not for a third part of it, and the night likewise.
And I beheld, and heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the
earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound!
The debonair meme swirled about its apocryphal chamber, attiring itself for the hunt. Refracted these past two weeks within a prism of
literary theory, it had delayed two days after its release building its powers, husbanding its strength to once more take physical form and
kill.
Adjusting its nebulous cummerbund, it hummed to itself, the sound rebounding strangely around the empty room. An afternoon's work, it
calculated, should bring it the recognition it needed to become again a structured idea, and elimination of the current uninteresting hoard
of targets - a few minor complications of allegiance aside - should open up the vistas of possibility it sensed lurking tantalisingly just
beyond the reach of its figurative fingers. Yes... there were many within this conceptual bubble to whom a visit might prove most
satisfying...
With a still-awkward effort it reorganised its component elements and condensed itself into near-solid form. Still slightly blurred at the
edge, the dinner jacket lacking something of its former sharpness but... satisfactory. The being stepped forward, savouring the feel of
physical action, and considered its plan of action.
There was a knock at the door.
The concept hesitated. Instincts still half-formed warned it that this was strange, suggested paradigms from the past, returned to finish
an attempt initiated during its period of incarceration. Moving to the peephole it beheld an unfamiliar bespectacled face peering in at it.
It considered waiting - lurkers, after all, seldom lasted long, and the possibility of an innocent, even unrecognised, was not to be
ignored. It could simply not answer, bide its time, and emerge after the intruder had left. But the thing had stewed too long in its
enforced dissipation - the thirst for action, and the fear that the concept of cowardice might permeate its newly-reconstituted structure,
drove it forward. Exerting pressure upon the doorhandle in readiness, it realised a question.
Who are you?
The face did not seem put out. Instead, in adopted an ingratiating smile:
"Hi, I'm from Kick You?"
The concept was stumped - quite apart from the dimensional difficulties currently involved in kicking it, it found it puzzling that anyone
wishing to do so would announce the fact while requesting admission. It decided to clarify the matter:
Pardon?
"CICU - Cambridge University Christian Union. We wondered if you might like to talk?"
The concept expended valuable energy realising a pair of lips, which moved silently as it tried to work out how the acronym worked.
Realising the intriguing mortal was still outside the door, it thought it best to dispose of it as quickly as possible, and addressed
itself to it:
I'm sorry, I'm very anti-reli - It got no further. A thousand pamphlets, smuggled unknown to it into the porch, glowed with occult energy
as the power of a vengeful Jesus burst open the chamber portal and rushed in, dissolving the fundamentally atheistic concept in a burst of
appropriately coruscating fire (thus fulfilling the mandate imposed all science-fiction or fantasty concepts to encounter such an energy at
least once)and sweeping out through the wall, even as another figure stepped quickly around the first and discharged a series of
rubber-bands through the empty air where the shadowy tuxedo had stood.
The two figures stood in the chamber, savouring their kill, as Jesus slunk off down the stairs, sniggering to himself. After a brief glance
around, pausing to avail themselves of some slightly-singed digestive biscuits near the site of the exorcism, they left.
Time passed. The wind whistled cold through the empty chamber, fluttering the torn wrapper of the biscuit packet and toying with the dice
scattered over the floor. The world went about its business, little guessing by how narrow a margin it had scaped the depredations of a
force beyond its wildest imaginings.
As an anachronistic dusk fell, a faint, unwontedly bluish glow started to emanate from the farthest corner of the room. The tattered
remains of the concept drew themselves together; started to weave around eachother, blindly fumbling to build a new theoretical structure
from the exploded remains of the old. Slowly, a consciousness took form.
A few hours later, errant shadows in the room chanced to fall on the corner in a manner suggesting a bow tie...
This evening, I made to visit the noted hippopotamus specialist Miss Fatima Alam. It was my hope that she could suggest to me some way to restrain the beast, and curb its more violent tendencies. Sadly, she had been called away to other business, and I was unable to consult her.
Today the Zionist Conspiracy eliminated one incompetent and one wanted criminal, going by the names of Fatima Alam and Alexander Atkins
respectively.
Additionally, it has been decided that Jacob Samuel Corteen has been alive for longer than is good for
him, so a bounty of two packets of Jaffa Cakes is hereby posted for his head. Please note also that this bounty is TRIPLED if the deed is
performed by a person with a surname beginning with the letter 'W'
Dear Mr Umpire,
I have grown bored of trying to lure out koalas, so today, this Sunday 7th February, at about 7.30ish, I went hunting, in search of some
other creatures. We first lurked outside the sett of Claire Badgery, however she must have been in a distant tunnel as she did not appear,
even when we produced a juicy bait of worms.We then stopped by at the den of Sabri Al-Safi, but the farmer chased us away, although I hear
Mr Al-Safi later suffered a fatal rodent infestation. We then revisited the sett of Ms Badgery, but a small weasel attacked her before I
could get close enough to deliver some pest control of my own.
I am finding the creatures of Cambridge most troublesome, and hope to exterminate the rest soon.
Yours Faithfully
Papertree
I was indiscriminately ravaged by another lurking assassin as he hid in the shadows outside my corridor. They also managed to kill my next-door neighbour (civilian) as he attempted to get himself into the toilet. Well done those boys!
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