The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 NewsI was killed by P.C. Joke at about 12:02 today. He claimed I was corrupt. In my defence I can only point out that I genuinely believed it would be improper (i.e. against the rules) for Luke to have told me Beth was corrupt when she wasn't.
The Umpire would like to note that it is against the rules to lie about the status (alive or dead) of any assassin in the game. Players should, however, be wary that other players in the game are capable of lying about other matters and for facts you should refer to the Umpire.
Sam Spade's bad deed catches up with him, in the form of P.C. Joke's kife.
There's nothing more sad than a cop turned bad. It was just after midday when i spotted him, just outside the errr... police motivational lecture theatre. He glanced at me too, but must have missed this morning's memo, the one with his name in big letters saying "Wanted for Murder". Assuming his bad deed hadn't yet caught up with him he turned away and casually made for the exit. But he never made it, as i purged him of his corrupt life wih my trusty blade. Farewell, Sam Spade.
I got shot in the back by SCIENCE! on my way home. The clever dude was stalking me, lying in waiting on the ground floor of my building. Now I'm dead. Hurray.
SCIENCE! tells us that target leaving lecture on the New Museum Site + Assassin lurking the exit does not neccesarily = scientificness. It is interesting, on the other hand how many playing Assassins failed to study SCIENCE! around the New Museum Site. The "subtle" SCIENCE! of assassination. Finally, SCIENCE! has proven that Michael McMahon has n-several paranoia, where n = sufficient, and several = the inattention it takes to be openly followed up the stairs and killed by SCIENCE!
At around 17:20, Black Shadow frustrated by work took his anger out on George Lockett. As this did not satiate his hunger he then proceeded to Fitz, which after a brief altercation, left Corin Jeffcock dead upon the floor. Feeling pleased with himself, Black Shadow melted into the night awaiting his next kill.
I was loitering outside Luke Michael Innes' block, but alas there was no way I was going to get in, especially now all his friends knew what I looked like. I was just about ready to give up, and I head back towards my bike, when who would be walking the other way with a couple of friends but, lo and behold, my target. Having only seen him twice I wasn't completely sure it was him, so I sauntered up to him and said "Hi."
He looked at me blankly for a couple of seconds before suddenly sprinting away, past his room into the depths of his college, with me in hot pursuit. As he reached a dead end I threw one (pen) knife at him, which hit his arm. At this, he seemed relieved, and he said "Ha, you only hit my arm." These were his last words, as the second (pen) knife went through his heart.
The silly boy had it in his head I could only carry one weapon on me at a time, much to his detriment. Chalk one up for Irvine Kineas.
At approximately 7.15pm tonight, I successfully assassinated Thomas Gillespie of Trinity College... I cunningly used a simple ruse of knocking on his door. Deeper strategies were obviously there... /i/obviously/i/...
Dearest Umpire,
Last night after an unspecified gig, I found myself near the abode of one Dave The Slave whilst in search of a kebab shop. While I waited for my food, I decided to see if I could spot him. I malingered by his door, but was unsure if it would be acceptable to wake him given the hour and how grumpy he says his housemates are. After about 20 minutes, and with no sign of the infidel, I gave up and left.
This morning, I had an (entirely unrelated) errand to run that took me in the direction of the address of Stickeh Vickeh. Turns out it is pretty difficult to find, I wandered for ages and did find a [place removed] but I wasn't sure how the address they gave related to it. Suffice to say I did not see anyone worthy of my trusty Knife.
I have not yet completed the Trinity of stalking suggested by my name, but perhaps I will have time later... you had to give me all really distant ones!
D.I. Nner peered over his sunglasses into the front yard of that filthy hovel, a true den of evil harbouring no-hopers and low-lives. Drug rings, parricides, Conservative Party members, all huddled together in mutual filth.
He was not here to take out the lot, sadly; the owners paid too much protection money to the Station, and D.I. Nner needed a source of income for all his doughnuts. However, the deal was that if one of the occupants overstepped the line and got himself done in, the owners would turn a blind eye and let the force do what the force gotta do.
Cradling his assault rifle, D.I. Nner waited for an opportune moment. He knew his man was about to carry out a weapons sale, and when he heard a rough voice greet another individual with the name of the man he sought, he tripped round the corner and fired wildly as he stumbled into a wall. Miraculously, his target collapsed, blood spurting from his now collander-like torso, while the other agents of evil stood looking on in disbelief.
I succesfullly killed Stuart Burns. Time 9:05 this morning Location: in the corridor outside his room Weapon used: pen labeled knife. Tactics used: lurked at end of corridor until I saw him leave for shower then waited outside until he came out. Thoughts: oh no more police
I was stabbed coming out of the shower at 9:00am today, by TwilightAngel from some place. :(
The Emperor's Fist tracked down and killed Rikesh Rajani outside the Bristol Myers Squibb lecture theatre after a 9:00 physics lecture. KIlled him with a ruler marked 'KNIFE' on the shoulder. There was a witness 'Roger' who has already sent in a report.
At around 9:55am today, in the foyer of the Bristol-Myers Squibb lecture theatre I witnessed the assassination of Rikesh Rajani (king's) by The Emperor's Fist. The Emperor's Fist sat next to me during the lecture and located Rikesh Rajani inside the lecture theatre. After the lecture he waited for Rikesh in he foyer (hid behind a column). As Rikesh made his way out, The Emperor's Fist approached him and asked if he was indeed Rikesh. Whilst this happened, The Emperor's Fist placed a hand on Rikesh's shoulder, under which was concealed a ruler marked 'KNIFE'- from my point of view there WAS contact between the ruler and Rikesh's shoulder.
Now this is wear the confusion occurs. Once The Emperor's Fist asked Rikesh the question, Rikesh stumbled backwards, whilst skillfully brandishing a pen from his pocket and stabbing The Emperor's Fist. The Emperor's Fist on the other hand, at least simulataneously (or possibly a fraction earlier) stabbed Rikesh with his ruler. Now, all this aside- the one detail that might clear up this mess is that Rikesh's pen was not labelled 'KNIFE', it wasn't labelled at all. Whereas The Emperor's Fist's ruler was clearly marked 'KNIFE' with a permanent marker.
Sorry for this long and complicated report, but I think it is important that you know everything that I saw from my point of view.
To the Umpire, I was assassinated this morning at 10 am outside a physics lecture. i can't remember the name of my assassin but he will also email you and i just thought that i'd confirm that he's not lying. i realised he was going to kill me and quickly stabbed him with a pen but he'd already stabbed me with a ruler concealed up his sleeve before i started to move.
"Well...I guess that means I Just Lost The Game"
As I walked through the Earth Sciences common room, admiring the displays of rocks and building stones, I caught sight of a face I thought I knew. Lounging at a table, looking shiftily at everyone who walked past, could it be that wanted criminal, Tom Wootten? Or was it yet another innocent civilian cursed with his criminal appearance. I wasn't sure, so I slipped my hand around my gun and walked slowly past. When he appeared not to notice I went on, and cowardly went off to my practical.
Some minutes later, I saw him again, up close, as he was entering a toilet
cubicle. Again, we walked past each other, but then, on a sudden impulse I
pulled out my gun and fired; to my dismay, the first shot was a blank! He
noticed me, and made to shut the door, but a second shot managed to get
through and I heard his unmistakable voice saying "I think you got me".
Phew!
At 11:55 on the way to a lecture, I, Palahniuk's Laughter, thankfully (as they were at Girton) spotted and recognised one of my targers. They responded to the call of Laura Leegood from one of my friends and were then quickly stabbed with a suitably labelled pen, and so Laura Leegood is no more.
At 5 o clock sharp, I made my way to the room of one of my new targets, Palahniuk's Laughter, being relieved that for once it was actually at a college nearby. I'd had the chance to scout the area beforehand and had been informed that my target was at some place then.
When I returned, the marker by my target's name said he was out, but I knew better than to trust the deceptiveness of a fellow assasin. I made my way up to his room on the second floor and claimed I had something with his name on it. From inside I heard a lot more rustling than is necessary than to come and open the door, so I readied my weapon. I saw him open the door a crack and so I made for an attempt with my killer link plush knife, but he was too fast and shut the door again, onto my foot which had somehow nudged itself forwards.
Knowing that despite the fact the door was slightly open, he wasn't going to let me in, I started considering just leaving quietly, but then I caught a glimpse of a battleaxe through the crack in the door and realised that I was on my target's home turf and had lost the element of surprise. I decided a quick course of exit was in order, so ran down the corridor, turning to see my target now chasing me. I lept down the stairs and made it halfway down a floor before my target was at the top. He then threw a grenade at me, which was deflected by my knife and then the head of the battleaxe that he'd been carrying, which sailed directly over my head.
I decided to try and turn the tables again and threw my killer link plush knife at him and it struck him in the back, JUST moments after it had been blunted by the wall.
Both out of weapons, we both cautiously conceeded and retreated to fight another day, maybe tomorrow, maybe sometime next week, but another day.
Just had an unsubtle attempt on my life. There is a knock on my door, followed by I have a piece of paper with 'Palahniuk's Laughter' written on it. Not fooled for a second, I answer the door with my 2 weapons in hand. A Link bearing a sword is pushed round my door and I return with a push of my lance. Neither hit anything, he runs away down the stairs and I threw my attack Pig at him, it only hit his Link, still running down stairs I throw an axe at him that narrowly missed sawing threw his legs. Now I am weaponless and he starts running back up at me, he chucks Link at me and I duck out the way. Both unharmed and unarmed we call it a day both narrowly escaping with our lives and they narrowly escaping the incobash.
With my trusted, for very given values of trusted, sidekick "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you. at my side I made my way to my targets room, hoping to inhume her post haste. Unfortunately on knocking at her door, a man (not the gender I was expecting) opened the door. As this person was not the target I decided not to kill them but apologised and left.
The Umpire would like to remind players that while on occasion an overeager innocent sitting next to your door may answer a knock without considering the possibility of assassins, you should not ask innocents to answer your door and if you are found requesting that an innocent answers your door or leaves your room first then their death could result in yourself being made wanted.
The Umpire would like to note further that this does not give attacking assassins free rein to shoot whoever answers a targets door regardless of who they may be. As always the Umpire urges players to use common sense ;)
After infiltrating far into the [place removed], i came across what i was looking for - the remarkably out of place "Some Place". To my dismay the englishman i was ordered to mercilessly gun down was absent! A secondary attempt proved fruitless too.. But now at least you know, comrade, that i'm after you and i will show you a piece of (not anymore existant per se) Soviet Might!
Dear Umpire
This evening I was bemused to return home from [unspecified society] and find a cryptic note attached to my door. It can only be assassin related, since no communists I know of know where I live...It read:
"Till soon, Comrade! [smiley face, hammer and sickle,indecipherable signature]"
I don't know if this is newsworthy information, however I'd be interested to know who went out stalking this evening...
Yours bemusedly,
Professor Shameful McCrackhabit
SCIENCE! has proven that Work and Assassination are inversely
proportional to one another.
SCIENCE! also supports the theory that having a blank, surprised look on
one's face after having n water forcibly propelled onto one's coat can
lead to Scientific horror and murmurings of mistaken identity. The
antidote to such horror is one Alex Evans saying "....ohhh, I'm dead!"
How Scientific.
hello umpire! just to let you kow that a few minutes ago, i unfortunately died. i was sitting in my room, and heard a knock at the door. stupidly, i called out "it's open!" shortly after a stranger in a black coat walked in and shot me dead. i think his name was [name removed], but i'm not sure. anyway, i'm dead. danielle holt (deceased)x
Mia: Three tomatoes are walking down the street, papa tomato, mama tomato, and baby tomato. Baby tomato starts lagging behind. The papa tomato gets really angry, goes back and shoots him, says: "Ketchup!"
yesterday I left a poisoned letter in the pigeon hole(in-box)of a target.
Poisoned letters and all other methods of indirect killing have been REMOVED prior to this game. You must NOT send poisoned letters, or bombs or make any other indirect attempts. Players who do so will be placed on the wanted list.
I was lurking around the residence of a certain Mr. The buzzard when the door of the room opposite burst open to reveal the corpse of some dude lurching towards me brandishing a nerf gun. Not realising he was dead I thought for sure I was done for when I failed to draw my own weapon fast enough, but he didn't fire so I shot him. It was only then I ascertained that my assailant was already deceased. Reasoning that if Mr. The buzzard was in he was no doubt now alerted to my presence, I retreated.
Shortly afterwards I made my way to Mr. Panthunter's staircase for a quick attempt, but her door was locked. I had a prior engagement so I did not stay to lurk and retreated once more.
Aided and armed by SCIENCE!, Big Kahuna Burger approached the room of The buzzard. On opening the door, he was dismayed to be confronted by a non-target who was pointing a gun at him. But then he shot the person. Apparently, this person was a dead player named Rob, who seemed to have decided to leave his room to defend his friend. The details of this part of the report are a little unscientific, since SCIENCE! was not in the staircase at this point, but this is what happened, apparently, and seems a little shady to me, so I considered it my scientific duty to report it. Anyhow, cover blown, Mr Big Kahuna Burger decided to head to some college's to try the door handle of another target, who failtardedly has an incredibly public facebook. Sadly, however, she was not in. So, at this juncture, Big Kahuna Burger and SCIENCE! parted ways.
On a bright and breezy Saturday lunch time, Dave the Slave had an errand to run. Having recently watched the great movie Hitman, he had a sudden idea. With his trusty boomstick tucked inside his jacket, he left his dwelling and made his way to an emporium of flowers. He acquired a bunch of the very finest white ones and made his way westward to Owlstone Croft. Upon arriving he noted that his target, Tiina Pajuste, was in using their very useful IN/OUT board in the lobby. He used the intercom service (instructions for which are written on the door) to contact the target and explain that he had a delivery for her. She obligingly came to the door to accept said delivery and, when handed the flowers, her face showed a slightly perplexed expression right up to the point that Dave the Slave pulled out his trusty Texan and shot her in the stomach. "OH NO!!", she exclaimed, "I'm dead!! Would you like me to bleed all over the floor now?" Dave the Slave replied that it would be sufficient for her to just fall over if she prefered, in the end though she settled for thanking him for the flowers. R.I.P. Killer Kitten.
On entering Gonville and Cais at 1.35pm today, and making my way to Lee Crosby's room, I was confronted by an open door. On enquiry as to where he was, the occupant's voice issued from the neighboring lavatory. On emergence, he was faced by an assassin, two metres away, holding a nerf gun, which was then fired... directly over his left shoulder. Lee ducked back into the loo, and a brief stand-off followed. This ended after he poked his head around the door to be met with a nerf dart to the top of the head.(The buzzard would like to beg the umpire's forgiveness in this matter.) He sportingly emerged and we parted after swapping names.
I must report my tragic death this noon.
Last week, I was challenged for a duel. Eager to restore my honor, after I had been placed on the Wanted List due to a unlucky misunderstanding, I accepted. I thought about bringing somebody to backup or impersonate me, but I decided otherwise. I would face my enemy in honor!
Just when I had found him in Christ's Pieces, after we had been looked at by several innocent bystanders because of our suspicious hats, I was ready to draw my weapon, when suddenly I was attacked on my flank. Treacherous pack!
Not even my superior senses were able to save me from that situation.
BUT I HAVE LEARNED. I see you in hell, Hat Wearing Assassin!
i had emailed Felix Bauer a challenge to a duel in silly hats in Christs' Pieces. he arrived wearing a Halloween costume style black witch's hat, me in a Scottish tartan and ginger hair affair. as he approached, my partner in crime shot him from behind when Felix Bauer drew his weapon.
This afternoon The Kroll set out to remove his targets from the ranks of the living... Arriving at the bastion of Rex Cogidubnus, his first assignment, he rang the doorbell of some place, and stealthily side-stepped so as not to be seen by anyone opening the door. The even stealthier Rex Cogidubnus, however, shot him from his window (from behind and above) with a watergun that he'd had ready since the beginning of the game... Alas, no more scythely terrors until Lent.
At 15.20 this afternoon (Saturday) I heard my doorbell ring. Looking out of window, I saw a black-cloaked figure bearing a large scythe, and asking someone if I was in.
Unfortunately, Death does not appear to be immune to...well...death.
At around 4pm this afternoon (Saturday 25th), I braved the trek to the far reaches of the North in search of my elusive target, black fox. After sneakily wandering through the ragged concrete catacombs of the college, I chanced across my target's lair. Not wanting to be branded wanted for the death of an innocent, I retreated back to warmer climes after failing to verify which of the eight non-identifiable rooms in that staircase would conceal my target.
At approximately 4:25PM today, a friend and I entered into the economic heartland of Cambridge to hunt the elusive [Don J]. Armed to the teeth, we managed to find the place, a tiny door in between two shops. The residence had an intercom security system, but being friendly, charismatic James Bond types, we managed to chat up one of his neighbours coming in, who turned out to be so kind as to direct us to the exact landing where his door was.
Unfortunately our efforts were in vain, as he did not appear to be home at the time, and extended surveillance yielded nothing. "Gone Fishing" with a mobile number was written on his notice board - perhaps our scaly friends are having better luck with him?
Juggles Geese went to call on TwilightAngel and amazingly, he with Roger and
The Emperor's Fist... TwilightAngel wasn't in and Burrells feild gate was locked.
Dammit.
This afternoon I was pleased to host a meeting of the Pembroke College Winnie the Pooh society. Much fun was had by all, much tea was drunk and much cake was eaten. However it all ended on a sad note, it seems we had been infiltrated by a thoroughly despicable individual, not only an assassin but an alleged Sheilahrite as well. After the meeting had concluded, I turned my back but for a moment and was assaulted by a vicious attack bear and slain before I could move. Still the chocolate cake was very nice.
"Don't see why you have to take sides," said Wensleydale. "Of course I have to take sides," said Pepper. "Everyone has to take sides in something." Adam appeared to reach a decision. "Yes. But I reckon you can make your own side."
I wandered round some place last night for the best part of two hours with a pen labelled 'knife', knocked on my target's door, but he didn't answer, so asked some of his neighbours, but they didn't know where he was.
After unsuccesfully lurking around the target's door for a while with his hirsute accomplice around eleven o'clock, Professor Shameful McCrackhabit and said diminuitive lab assistant briefly wandered the streets of Cambridge before returning to their home college. At around fifteen minutes past midnight, the Professor returned to his victim's room, knocked twice, and entered, whereupon he dispatched the unlucky James Bost of Jesus with a single blast of his patented ray gun. Leaving the corpse, a hole burned right through its chest, splayed out in its charmingly swivelly chair, the crazed scientist fled the scene, laughing maniacally and trapping his finger in a vengeful door.
i have just been killed by a surprisingly lucky attacker who happened to find my door in a rare state of being unlocked. He knocked very politely, checking he had the right man, before proceeding to mercilessly bang-kill me with a toy gun. damn. just another few hours and i would be an incompetent... i was looking forward to that!
Listen here to the adventures of OTHAR TRYGVASSEN, GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER!
It my sworn mission to eliminate the world of Sparks, (those Mad Scientists
whose rule has kept much of Europa in tyranny and chaos,) including
eventually myself.
Recently my travels have taken my to the City of Cambridge, (lovely place,
they sell good fudge.)
After an immediate walk about the local area, (they have a nice curry too,)
I have discovered the whole place is swarming with Sparks, all bent on
destroying one another with their mad creations!
Obviously, whichever one of these fiends survives will cause great harm to
this city.
My Duty is clear.
Proceeding to the location of the lair of the first Spark on my scanners
printout, I discovered the door to her fortress closed, and heard the babble
of chatter of others upstairs.
unsure if these people were further Sparks, minions or just innocent passers
by, I decided to circle the area and wait in a nearby staircase for a while.
My plan turned out well, as after only a little time, (not enough time for
the Tea Extrapolator to fill a cup,) a large group exited the staircase.
I was moving back towards Karoliina Lehtinen's fortress when I spotted a number of
young ladies heading towards the staircase where it was located.
Waiting a minute after they'd entered, I discovered that the door was no
open! Obviously one of these early models which take a time to close.
Moving swiftly through the door, I unloaded two streams of Hydrogen Dioxide
into the back of the person within.
Time of death Estimated as 11:29
One down, several more to go.
Hello, I just got killed. By Othar Trygvassen, Gentleman Adventurer. I guess leaving my door wide open isn't being paranoid enough...
Refreshed by an extra hour sleep, sunday morning saw me wandering down to the abode of my target- Juan Zober de Francisco. Momentarily thwarted by a locked outside door, I spent a few minutes ensuring my bike was correctly locked, possibly waiting for another inhabitant to pass through so allowing my entrance. This plan was scrapped when the next person to pass by me was none other than my target! While he was buisied by the lock, I shot him in the back with my trusty pocket watergun, over the shoulder of his innocent companion.
I am writing to confirm that I, Nocturne shot Parsifal with a bannana in the doorway of his room, A10a at approximately 11:50 on Sunday the 26th of October. He was caught by surprise as he opened the door and there was no resistance. I only hope this message reaches the others before they come looking for me. Whatever happens,I know they are not to blame but I want them to know I did my duty.
Well, it was a very exciting incobash, a brief summary of those who died (in no partcular order) are:
Geraint Rhys Dafydd Roberts (Ghost Dog) - not an inco, but conveniently close
Paul Davis (Mudkip)
Nazneen Molu (BlackFiresong) - though she took down Daniel Gregory Wallace O'Brien (Andrew Marr's Rabid Eels) with her
Heather Dixon (Dixie)
Maryam Azraa Shaikh (fluffy bt fiesty kitten (FFK))
Daniel Adams (The Expunger)
P.C. Joke continues to be our most hapless member of the police force, managing to shoot an innocent (though this was partially due to some misnumbered doors), and in a separate hilarious incident two fellow policemen (all the Umpire saw was P.C. Nobbs run past, followed by P.C. Joke crazily wielding a gun, before hearing the words "Oh no, not another policeman")
1430: We left HQ in two parties, and after our prep talk from the CoP, made our way to the first destination. The abode of three assassins, two of them inco and the other my target. While the team went to sort out the inco's rooms, I looked in on Geraint Rhys Dafydd Roberts, one of my targets, and filled him with rubber bands.
1500: Checked Corpus but found no-one in, then went to Kings to chase down a couple of inco's. Maryam Azraa Shaikh hadn't given a room number, but we found her anyway and shot her multiple times.
1550: Met up with The Umpire and other incobash team outside Johns. Briefly saw Will Brooks, who ran away. Mounted division left for Homerton, while the rest of us proceeded to the 'hill colleges'...
~1630: New Hall - Split into pairs to find 'Old Court', but had met up again by the time we'd found anyone. Found one already dead, then lurked another. Complications ensued as she opened the door and attempted to bang-kill charlie as he tried to stab her. I then shot her, but The Umpire ruled she'd got the kill in first.
1645: Met P.C. Nobbs outside Fitz, and sneaked in to lurk for Edward Tusting. He had cunningly switched the number on his door, which led to some confusion. P.C. Joke attempted to shoot him through the window, but got the wrong window, resulting in Corruption!
1730: Went to Churchill in search of further quarry. P.C. Joke and Dave The Slave disappeared into 44 staircase. A second party followed them in, and tried the door of one Daniel Adams, whereupon they were shot by P.C. Joke, who'd been hiding in there after finding the door unlocked. Much hilarity ensued before we worked out what had happened and decided to leave P.C. Joke to wait for the target's return. [We also sabotaged his 'gun' which was actually a tennis racquet]
1800: Managed to find somewhere called 'nurseries unlimited' while looking for Wolfson court, then failed to find anyone and went home.
Geraint Roberts (Ghost Dog) died with his boots off; a door left unlocked is asking for trouble, as 4 bands to the chest prove. 10/10 for stealth, coz the floor's really creaky.
Why didn't you say your room number, Maryam Azraa Shaikh? Slipped your mind? You forgot to kill, so now someone's in the corridor with a goddamn band gun?
[14:00] Met many other interesting assassins and various police personnel at a
prearranged destination.
[14:30(ish)] Left prearranged destination and headed, in attendance of the CoP,
Rex Cogidubnus and an unknown assassin, to the College of St
Cats where 2 incos were known to reside. Personally dealt with Heather Dixon who was given a sweety by the CoP, Rex Cogidubnus took down a target of his in the same block, unknown assassin was not
so lucky - the other inco appeared to be out.
[--:--] Around town a bit, looking for other people and places on the list.
Only managed to find ones that weren't accessable.
[--:--] To Kings. Group went in, I went for food.
[--:--] To St Johns. Met with P.C. Joke and Her Holiness The Umpire. They were
waiting for a hit squad which had entered the college to find a couple of
targets. A decision was taken for the CoP to take a Cycle Unit to Homerton and
other out-lying regions to deal with such out of the way targets. Others would
remain behind, join up with St J's hit squad and head north. New group
(including The Umpire) head into St J's looking for the others. We find them. They
reported whatever they had done. Can't remember what it was.
[--:--] To New Hall. Split up to locate residence block. Both pairs eventually
found it. Missed the Jessica Brandler attempt. Nicola Bailey was absent
(neighbour didn't know where she was or how long she'd be). Nazneen Molu
however WAS in and WAS prepared. Her door was locked and when she opened it she
was armed. "The one known as Charlie" made a valiant effort to stab her but was
gunned down with a swift BANG kill. She retreated into her room but foolishly
opened the door a few seconds later when Rex Cogidubnus shot
her in the ear. The Umpire was on the scene to resolve a brief dispute over the
death of "The one known as Charlie" (Andrew Marr's Rabid Eels) but it was decided that he had indeed been
killed so he joined us in the capacity of a police officer instead.
[--:--] To Fitzwilliam. We had been previously warned that a seeky sneeky inco
had swapped the number on his door for that of his neighbour (an action that
had resulted in his neighbour being shot...) so we approached the correct door
and took up firing positions outside. After several knocks, it was apparent
that either he wasn't in or wasn't answering so P.C. Joke went outside, found
an open window and fired at the occupant of the room only to discover that it
was the same poor innocent who had been shot earlier - The Umpire immediatly
declared him corrupt but said he could redeem himself by making a kill before
the end of the bash. Eventually gave up at Fitz - on to the next one.
[--:--] To Churchill. Two targets here. Firstly, we went to the abode of one
Daniel Adams. P.C. Joke and I ascended the stairs and on trying the door, found
it to be open. We cautiously ventured inside, weapons at the ready but
discovered the room empty - although the lights were on and it definatly looked
like he wasn't too far away so we decided to wait. I noticed that he had a gun
cunningly discuised as a tennis racket on the floor, I swiftly disarmed it by
adding the words "NOT A". We hid behind a cupboard door and waited. Presently
we heard the door and readied our weapons. I had told P.C. Joke that he could
have this kill to take care of his little misdemenour earlier so as the door
swung open he lept from our hiding place and hosed down...two police officers
who were coming to our aid!! We all left in fits of laughter, stopping only to
ask our targets neighbour if he knew where our guy was. He didn't. We then
proceded to our other inco at Churchill but he wasn't in. P.C. Joke returned to
stake out Daniel Adams' room, the rest of us moved on.
[--:--] Our final stop was Wolfson where we were looking for Allie Rinck. But
she didnt appear to be in. At this point, I had to leave. All in all a
successful day me thinks.
From 2:30 onwards Andrew Marr's Rapid Eels gathered at the swarming grounds of the Anchor and joined the Incobash feeding frenzy. After scouting out the Inco Darwinian Mateja Djurovic, Queens' targets Bhavya Dore and Oliver Hart, and finally Caroline Tecks and Eugene Lim of St. John's, the slippery assassins were still without a kill to their name.
Moving north to Murray-Edwards, and having gotten lost within the Catacombs of Feminism, we did chance upon the door of a certain Jessica Brandler, who had cunningly swapped name tags with the room across the landing. But the official board at the stairway base never lies. Charging in all guns blazing, after seeing her door to be curiously unlocked, our target felt the true force of a rubber band twang. In a startling turn of events, it seems this poor maiden had already felt the force of a certain blonde male from Trinity - a legend who was said to go by the heroic name of The Twillo.
Moving on, we located the lair of another Inco - Nazneen Molu, who seemed to be aware of our coming, and opened the door with RBG in hand. In my foolhardy quest for glory, I lunged through the gap with my trusty knife, a knife which was greeted by thin air, with my body being greeted by a fair-and-honourable bang-kill. As I lay dying in the corridor, I saw my fellow accomplices nail the kill-shot with one of their own RBG's. The eels may have fallen, but at least they were avenged.
Reincarnated as a member of the police force, we moved on with the raiding party to the humble abode of Edward Tusting of Fitzwilliam. A tension-filled corridor stakeout then took place, as it transpired that perhaps his room number had been switched with a neighbour, or he had misinformed us of his official residence. Sadly no killing took place at Fitz.
Moving across the road to Churchill, things got interesting under cover of darkness. The residence of our first target, Daniel Adams, was located and a grand misunderstanding transpired among our kill-team. The first pair to move in found the door unlocked, with lights and appliances active and a general sense that he'd popped out for 10 mins. Myself and my backup also noticed this 2 mins later, and charged into the fray. I was met by a blast from a water pistol and replied with an attempt at a bang-kill to find we were firing on our team-mates, specifically, one police officer had fired upon another. In fits of laughter we scarpered, attracting a bemused look from a neighbour, and traversed Churchill to the next location - Robert Aston Cole. He wasn't in either and was being more secure about his doorway, and opening it to a raiding party. Returning to Daniel Adams on our way out, we found the room in the same state with no sign of the target. We therefore decided to move out, but not before one of the crew renamed the foe's gun in the form of a tennis racket to assert that it is Not A Gun at all.
Our final stop of the night was at Allie Rinck at Girton's Wolfson Court, who was also nowhere to be seen.
Much fun was had by all, except the policeman who was getting labelled as being Very Corrupt.
Paul Davis was shot by me, with a rubber band gun, between 5 and 6pm this evening on grounds of being incompetent (and hence a gleefully legal target for me and the rest of the incobash).
Came back from cooking some curry in the kitchen last night to find a policeman lurking in the back corner of my room. Shot me right up before much could be done about the situation. I guess i'm dead.
...And now for the highlights from today's killer episode of When Police Raids Go Wrong!!!
New Hall:
PC Joke blows the smoke from his now rubber band-less fingers as a corpse
falls to the ground
Corpse: "That's the second time today actually, first time was some blond
guy from Trinity."
Joke "aww..." :(
Fitz:
While the rest of the force squeezes into the ground floor corridor
preparing for a frontal assault on Jamy Dodger, PC Joke hatches the devious
plan of taking him out through the window. He spots the door with the
correct door number, counts how far from the entrance it is, and proceeds to
snipe the inhabitant of that room with a slug from the trusty ol' "handgun".
PC Joke: "Edward Tusting, I presume"
Innocent: "Nope, afraid not. Oh well, at least it was just an elastic band
and not a bullet or anything"
PC Joke: "Crap" :(
Disheartened from being tricked by the switched door numbers, PC Joke moves
on with the crew.
Churchill:
Cobasher: "Okay, as he's the most in need of redemption, I think Joke should
get this next one".
And so begins the legendary raid on The Expunger
Team splits up into pairs: Joke and Cobasher go in first, P.C. Nobbs and In Communist Russia, The Game Loses You! are backup. Umpire watches and laughs, as usual. Joke
tries the door, finds it unlocked! After sweeping the room to find nobody
home and the PC still on, best course of action seems to be to sabotage his
weapons and lurk behind a door.
A minute later, somebody opens the door, and walks in, gun in hand, quickly
passes the door. Joke's trigger finger is fastest, and the entrant receives
a lethal dose of 'H2O'.
Problem being, entrant was one of our backup.
Crap again :(
A noise in the corridor! Thinking we're about to lose the target, along with
any possibility of sweet redemption, PC Joke takes chase. Outside, the
target lurks around a corner, gun suspiciously poking out from around said
corner. Joke decides to finish it quickly by strafing and squirting the
target. Which works perfectly. Apart from target being P.C. Nobbs.
Uh oh, Spaghettio's!
PC Joke proceeds to change the Fbook status of and lurk actual target,
dousing him from behind prementioned doorway whilst on the phone. Target
seems like an amicable fellow, and we share tales of the whole shenanigan in
his kitchen, where he'd been the whole time.
I just had someone attempt to assasinate at my room for the first time since the game has started. I asked through the door who they were looking for and they said that it was me. Somewhat annoyed about my overuse of caution, my roomate decided to open the door at which point I retreated back into my room, seeing the barrel of a gun being pointed around the door.(I am completely aware that I would've been in the responsible position if he had been shot).
With my assasin now unable to do anything, he tried to gather more information about me, which I refused to give. He then retreated. Sensing an oppurtunity I attempted to observe him from my balcony and found the individual who now looked lost trying to get out. I attempted to cut him off at the plodge, but he had vanished by the time I was down there.
in view of my recent incompetence went off in search of Gingerlink, one of my targets, who could not be persuaded to come out of his room for a chat...
So because wanted kids get all the chicks and lame people who follow the rules are dull, I decided to rampage (as it was incobash day)! I went to shoot Eugene Lim but he wouldn't come out to fight, like two men naked and oiled rolling around in an entirely non-homo-erotic way. Caroline Tecks remained as steadfast as an immovable object which knows full well its only role in life is to have an unstoppable force applied to it and allow everyone else to coo and marvel.
I then went to Churchill and in an attempt to go wanted, so I randomly picked a staircase and bang killed the occupant of the room of the same letter. Regrettably as Churchill has about 50 staircases my probability of success was rather lower than the cut of Madonna's latest dress so the person I bang killed was in fact as innocent as a plough boy who asks the milkmaid to help him sort out the hay in the high level of the barn.
That was it! Now I had the rush and thrill of being a criminal, but in all the films the cool criminals are the ones who kill in a pattern leading to a single spot of some significance and they leave cunning codes from a book that the detectives have to solve and they get caught at the last minute before they kill their last hostage (well lets hope the last bit of the clichee doesn't happen). Therefore I decided to find out which staircase my target was actually in, and then after locating it I wasted Robert Aston Cole's puny body with a peppering of bullets. The blood still pumping faster than a man in a sinking ship pumping the remains of the rum into his belly, I proceeded to Daniel Adams staircase where I saw Logan lurking near by. As I was still raging like a bull fed with a can of Red Bull, branded with a mark saying "I like fat cows" and shot out of a cannon into a museum of poorly protected porcelain, I duly scared him off by showing him my massive "gun" and got him to run away. I then pummeled with the the force of two elephants moshing in stilettos upon Daniel Adams door but for some reason he did not come out to be shot. I saw Logan again as I was leaving but he was being talked to by a porter so we decided shooting each other was probably bad and fled in our separate ways, more quickly than a gazelle covered in lycra, riding a motorbike.
In record time I was at Fitz and I thought, with the intelligence of a super intelligent jelly alien who sat down for a nice pineapple desert, that I had mastered this killing people malarkey. Just go to the correct corridor, find the correctly numbered door, enter, shoot and be gone as quickly as the student loan of someone with an ebay account and an addiction to waterpistols. So I found the room with a nice 6 screwed into the door, entered and bang killed the person sitting at his desk. As trivial as the set of all sets. But wait, what is that I hear? This is in fact not the correct room and the number on the door is wrong. Curses, these investigators are on to me and set a cunning trap into which I fell, like a spaceship filled with all of the greatest scientists in the world, sent out to repopulate a new world but who trusted the navigation to an engineer who estimated pi as 3 and sent them all into a black hole.
I felt nothing but the shame of a mother who not only found her son was in charge of organising a holocaust but was also practicing premarital sex. It was meant to be cool to be like Luke Bennett and Tom Wootten, but I couldn't get the fact that I had killed the innocents out of my head. Gripped with the grief of a boy who found that his goldfish, Princess, who had died a few years ago, but now had the vote, I went to visit New Murray Hall Edwards and unleashed a barrage of pork upon Jessica Brandler as she sat in her chair. Everyone knows if you kill enough people the regret you feel for those you killed before will lessen, like the polynomial in two variables that has the range (0,infin). That was so much fun I went to Nicola Bailey who seemed a little bogged down, in need of some relief. She is the sort of person, I thought to myself, who cannot control her bodily functions and therefore has no hope of controlling her mind. I did her a great service, like Pete Samprass standing on a ladder with a modified rocket launcher designed to fire tennis balls, and ended her life. Nazneen Molu was regrettably able to control herself and so did not join my list of corpses, now longer than the path traveled by a CERN hadron in a second.
My remorse subsiding, I decided I had perhaps made enough kills to hold off my hunger for the time being and so retreated like an entire French Platoon when faced with a single sausage on a cocktail stick.
The Umpire would like to note that assassins should not be changing their room numbers or nameplates around, as this makes it unfairly difficult for your assassins to find you, and often leads to innocents being shot. For changing his room number, leading to an innocent being shot, Edward Tusting has been made wanted.
on Sunday at about 15:20 (I've forgotten the actual time) I see Will Brooks arrive at my college. Suspecting assassination attempts, I proceed with my room with care to ensure I am armed, before seeing what he is up to. I meet him in courtyard where he decides that killing me won't make him any less wanted and noticing he has a better water weapon(Immature giggle) I use the run and hide tactic. We stop, however, when we are asked not to by a porter.
After a hard day's slacking there's nothing like a quick open-shut shooting to reinvigorate yourself. My target willingly opened his door in response to an innocuous 'can I come in' and the rest, as they say, was archaeology.
It pains me to say this, but I, Jacob Knight, am dead. Last night, at the hour of 7:25 ish i was brutally shot in my own bedroom. I was slightly the worse for wear, and so failed to remember the name of the culprit
Today I received this note:
I would like to place an anonymous bounty of a glass of whisky on "Simon T Abernethy" and "Robert Bell", for their being dishonourable in killing Felix Bauer.
The Umpire would like to note that just because someone has a bounty placed on them, it does not make them a legal target for everyone.
I successfully killed the incompetant Paul Beard yesterday evening. My cuddly yet deadly killer Ewok did the dreaded deed.
On 27th October, I The Emperor's Fist together with my brother in arms Roger began our quest to remove the traitorous scum Skree, and the Roger's target Mathias Malzieu. WE ventured forth into the daemonic wastelands of St. Cat's and Corpus Christi, searching for the heretics within.
Our first port of call was the abode of Skree. Arriving at his door, uttering protective prayers from his heresy, we knocked and called the daemon forth. But, no response came from within and after waiting for half an hour we decided that it was best to leave this place and headfor the cavernous lair of the other traitor Mathias Malzieu.
Arriving forthwith, and fearing for our safety we armed ourselves with holy "nerf" bolters and proceeded to enter. Arriving at the entrance, we called for the heretic to reveal himself. When he did not answer, we decided to leave a leave message for all those who shall follow, pinned to the notice board outside his room. We left swiftly with the emperors protection guarding us, and returned to our headquarteers without the trophies of war that we so longed.
Yours in faith,
The Emperoros fist, Chapter Master of the Emperors Vanguard,
Long live the Emperor
D.I. Nner felt a little peckish, so he decided to stop by what looked like a fast food outlet for a snack. Suddenly he spotted the face of one of those layabout yobs who'd thrown bricks at the police station last week and stolen a box of doughnuts. A yellow mist descended before his eyes, then he realised his cataracts were playing up again. He pulled out his gun and fired two rounds into the dastard's chest, then hastily sped on.
Cambridge University Murder Baffles Police. The body of Elliot Carter was found today by his bedder. A police investigation is still underway, but it is believed that the victim died of extensive rubber band related injuries. Community leaders have condemned the violence that has swept the city in recent weeks, with family members turning on one another; sisters killing brothers, brothers killing fathers, and pet hamsters viciously and baffingly turning on their owners all of a sudden.
It is my joy and sorrow to report the death of a fellow assassin.Allie Rinck was rushing into the zoology department at 2.05 this afternoon and was taken by surprise by my knife to her intestines. And then again, just to be sure of her death.
P.C Strawberry and our beloved chief of police went hunting today wherein Strawberry shot Mr ZeNan Chang in the back with a band gun and then explained to the confused boy why! lol. D.I. Nner killed Eugene Lim in the John's buttery after some careful info gathering from the John's JCR president to confirm identity. (Umpirical note: turns out this was just a corpse mutilation.) all of this shortly after he proposed on the brige of sighs to Strawberry who has accepted lol. shotgun wedding anyone!
D.I. Nner wandered, careless and free, the beautiful policewoman by his side making the night seem airy and bright. He was even considering giving up doughnuts for her, how silly and romantic was he? As they reached and crossed the Bridge of Sighs, he could resist no more, and stumbling onto one knee (almost falling in the process) he uttered those magic words. She embraced him, accepting his request with joy in her heart.
Then they stormed a vile hellhole of a house and shot the vicious Eugene Lim in the back as he swilled his fatty broth, exchanging a tender look as D.I. Nner's bullets went into the cad's back.
Jack William Mathew Jackson gets a face full of water as he answers his door at 17:50 today, following the excuse of saying happy birthday to a friend.
It is with great sadness that I report my death at the hands of a treacherous, traitorous turncoat! Yesterday I was informed by someone on my staircase that Logan had been asking after me - suspicious, thought I, but given that we had a no-kill agreement I thought nothing of it. Yesterday, at 17:50, he asked to come into my room to partake of the birthday celebrations within, and promptly handed over his present - a stream of bitter-flavoured water to the face!
At 17.51 T-unit killed Eugene Lim with a well labled knife/ pen, posing as a pizza boy.
Just wanted to report that Eugene Lim has been viciously slashed to death by T-unit who posed as a pizza delivery boy.
Ah, Cambridge. What sights I have seen here! What events I have witnessed! But time passes, and sometimes the edge... softens. Being surrounded by history dooms to you *becoming* history, one more faded glory remembered only in third generation stories. Sure, for a while the achievements are overstated - killing entire mafias in brutal staircase shootouts, making several computer rooms no-go zones. But in the end, you're nobody. A joke. There's no fear any more. One more washed up killer trading on old stories in the hope that you can spark some respect in... who? The youngsters? Forget it. They've heard it all before. They already know the stories can't be true, nobody could ever have been that good. Who would ever have spent three hours in the snow plotting an attack against the Star Trek society? Only an idiot. It doesn't tie up. They look at me and they see a fraud. A nobody. Some fool who lucked his way through a few games and never made anything of it.
The worst of it? It's true. I am a nobody. The fear is a distant memory, but so is the joy of eliminating a target within three seconds of the plan's timeline. I can walk the streets in safety but I can't make someone turn and flee simply by putting my hand in my pocket. And soon everyone who ever saw what I did will be gone, my once-trusted allies spread over much of the world. No stories about me from them, of course. They have their own image to protect, grasping like me at any opportunity to extend the legend of their own victories. The treacheries. The terror and the wonder. Ha. If you believed everything we'd said you'd wonder how any of the games lasted longer than a week. We were unstoppable. Forces of nature. Mostly lies of course, but ah! The occasional moments of genius, the subtle acts that lead to the stories lasting yet another generation. The achievements that are now unobtainable thanks to our changed world. You never forget. Today, I knew that more than ever.
Yes, your edge is lost. I'm not as fast as I was. Not as paranoid. But replacing that is an easy calm, an awareness that I've killed men better than any of these children. The urgency of youth is lost, giving more time for contemplation. The guild rewarded that once. The best kills were the ones witnessed by nobody. The wall of fire from the darkened terrace above. The deadly trap hidden in a shoe. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to remind people that I never left. I'm here to do something obvious and brutal and to win some respect back for myself. That's why I'm sitting in hall at Trinity. So many lives ended here. Time for something to begin.
And that's why poor Jonathan Tims had to die. It wasn't that I disliked the guy. Once you've reached my age, you know the truth. The police don't matter. They're tools. They're for when you want to send a message. And I've wanted to send a message for oh so long now. The setup was perfect. A corrupt cop. A clean one. And me. Things might have worked out differently if Jon had taken the initiative. But he had to be goaded into carrying out his duty. And once his hand was on his weapon he had no chance. A close range shot, a weapon concealed before anyone had even noticed his body drop. And me, smiling. Untouchable.
Things are going to be different this time. I'm on my own, seeking out these final kills. No pack of disciplined hunters with me. But I have my memories. By god, I know how to play this game. And I'm going to take as many of you down as needed to remind you of that.
I remain, sir,
Cameron Winstanley.
The Umpire would like to note that goading or tricking someone into bearing so they become a legal target for you is in many ways against the spirit of the game, which makes The Umpire sad (and may cause her "making wanted" finger to become twitchy).
Bent double, like J Doe in disguise,
High-speed, ROFLing, I scampered through Great Court,
Till on the haunting stairs I turned my eyes
And moved towards the distant quarry that I sought.
I marched asleep, my night lost on example sheets
(I'd brought one with me, just in case)
Drunk on Basics lager, molested by furmeets,
As I struggled on, my heart began to race.
That's him! Quick! ? An ecstasy of fumbling,
Firing the clumsy bullets just in time;
And then someone was yelling out and stumbling,
Paying for his desperate life of crime.
Dim, through the misty fog and dark twilight,
As if with Raccoon's eyes, I saw him frowning.
He seemed quite peeved, so I took flight,
Not to Burrell's (that won't rhyme) but to Downing.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
The streets of Cambridge in Mathmo Hour,
The hours of lurking marked upon your face,
Your gloves ruined by Vaseline and flour;
If you could hear, at every step, the sound
Of rushing feet, or clicking RBG,
Or cursed, after 3 hours lurk found
That you've been in staircase F, not staircase E,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To freshers ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro collegium mori.
I did feel rather silly queuing for hall, only to discover that dying was on the menu. Next time I shall check first online, or try not to go corrupt by hilarious circumstances.
The incompetant known as Peter Dyson has been expunged from this Earth. homelessnessness and myself Vice Admiral Horatio T Loins gained access to the Barnwell Fortress by cunning means of chocolate digestives and a turncoat insider. Having sought out all our targets and failed we met Mr Dyson on the stairs where I disposed of him by nobly shooting him in the back with an anti tank rocket. This displeased him. Let it be known however that we shall return to Barnwell and dispose of the rest of the incompetants like a hot scythe through butter... thats right, we know where you live, we have limitless chocolate digestives and we will be back.
Cakeface, Diogenes, and Kettchy - along with customary band of funky lunkeys - pop round the corner to the Mausoleum. After negotiating some unforgiving locked doors and a pit of snakes*, Kettchy finally locates the mark's inner sanctum. Diogenes knocks. Cakeface waits. Kettchy ties his shoelaces. From behind the door, the reanimated corpse of ZeNan Chang staggers forth! Although quickly returned to eternal rest by some camped-up gunplay on Cakeface's part, the three are sad to find out that someone has beat them to their kill!
Not to be defeated (and looking for some more action to report in the third person) the three sneak into the Waiter's Guild to track down Harsimran Singh. After negotiating a hillarious incident involving a packet of pork scratchings and the Homerton lacrosse team*, Kettchy once more tracks down the mark to his inner sanctum. A brief period of knocking and shoelace tying ensues, followed by yet another undeathly greeting. Not at all put off by the ruffian's corpulent stench, Kettchy decides to stab the poor fellow - just to be on the safe side. Alas! Yet another double murder!
After a brief excursion to the Barnyard Bastion (whose defences appear impenetrable), Cakeface, Diogenes and Kettchy hit the hay.
* denotes events added to spice up an otherwise spectacular failure of a night.
"A Quantum of Wallace" offers a prize for the best answer to "what is a Quantum of Wallace. And places a bounty on the next two people in subsequent news bulletins who dare make any of those lazy and despicable things: injokes.
D.I. Nner returned to the house of villainy he had not so long before visited with some success. He was not left unrewarded this time either; before too long had passed, a familiar face appeared at the gate, carrying a suspicious bundle as he wheeled out his motorbike. D.I. Nner and he had met before; in fact, D.I. Nner had put him behind bars, at least until one of the judges had accepted his appeal (and then mysteriously bought a new house in the tropics). The no-good, low-living, free-loading, multiple-hyphenated scoundrel tried to retreat, calling out to his friends for help. None was forthcoming. Who knows who found his riddled corpse?
'Appeal that, scumshit,' spat D.I. Nner.
Was ambushed today on my way to lectures (9:55... I was running slightly late.) I saw a dodgy looking guy at the bus stop, wearing a very conspicuous brown leather jacket (also, I knew who he was as he killed me last time). He unceremoniously shot me in the head with a small water pistol. I believe he was a policeman.
I found the target's room, thanks to a door left open, but couldn't find my target, or anyone else nearby to tell me where he was. I can only assume he was eating lunch elsewhere, and so will return another day with the hope of more success.
A misty afternoon, my accomplice at my side clacking away in some less than inconspicuous heels, we walked in sombre silence to Queens College, an address in my pocket and a deadly, loud, high-speed weapon concealed about my person. We parted at the foot of some stairs, my enthusiatsic accomplice unwilling to walk up the flights of stairs in aforementioned heels. I was alone on the mission from here on in.
Noting the room's occupant marked "IN", I walked quietly up to the second floor, and saw the room I was looking for. After checking around, to see that nobody would see my dastardly act, I knocked on the door. After a short pause, a reply came from within the room. I quickly made an excuse - I was looking for the nearest gyp as mine was in use. Again, a reply came from the room, this time more hesitant. I knew he might well be on to me. My hand in my pocket, grasping my weapon, I held my breath as he answered the door. The next few seconds were a flurry of activity, but I will do my best to recount what occured. I looked down, and saw him brandishing a knife, but my reactions were too fast, I pulled out my screaming rabid ninja monkey and launched it at his body. The gruesome death that followed I feel is not appropriate to be shared with the general public, but rest assured, Oliver Hart is dead, and my monkey is well fed.
I saw Stickeh Vickeh go into a lecture this afternoon at 3pm and so I lurked her after the lecture was due to finish. I waited for 20 minutes in the SLEET and she didn't appear :( and then I had to run because I had a class of my own.
Mysterious female voice tried to open the door, said 'hello' and scarpered before I could react. Shame, she should have stayed and tried seducing me, probably would've worked.
D.I. Nner felt the cold, hard concrete pressed against his back as he flattened himself against the wall. This was not entirely successful, in part due to his protruding belly and in part because of the large bag full of doughnuts. In any case, the prowling criminals on the floor below didn't spot him, either through their e-filled stupor or because they were too wrapped up in their latest heist. Finally, they departed, and D.I. Nner followed them to a favourite local booze-bin. As they were swigging their beers and joking, he crept up behind the one known as Carotex (presumably some japanese vegetable company) and blasted her spine with bullets. That'd learn her. His job done, he staggered out of the place before her allies could retaliate.
Panthunter (me) just got killed by the eminent Chief of Police. At approx 18.57 I was about to go to the buttery when I saw a figure dart back behind a window. Concerned I called a friend from downstairs to flush them out... successful. However, lulled into a false sense of security I proceeded to the buttery and when I was about to sit down and tuck into my tasty pizza - snap snap, two rubber bands to the back. And the chief, he just stands there, smoking gun in one hand, the other clenched into a fist of victory... And so the mighty Panthunter fell...
Dave The Slave was on the phone to his girlfriend whilst toying with his weapon (oo-er missus). In what could have been a very messy accident, the gun went off - the single round that was fired ricocheted of the ceiling and very nearly caught Dave The Slave square between the eyes!! Fortunatly it missed, Dave lives to fight another day having learned a very important lesson tonight...!
D.I. Nner crept through the office block, passing the listless, tired-looking workers huddled around their typewriters. He was dressed in a suit, in an attempt to better blend in; it seemed to work, no one even glanced his way. As he approached the corrupt core of the business, he spotted the villain he was after. She walked ahead of him, and he followed, a few paces behind. As they reached a door, she held it open for him. Thanking her, he filled her body with lead. As he left, not one of the workers seemed to have noticed...
Wandered over to the abode of Mathias Malzieu at lunchtime. Tried his door, locked...damn. Knocked on it and gave what I hoped was a bizarre excuse to lure him out...did he have the football stash? It'd been hoicked around the college and I couldn't find who was currently in possession. No....Jim had it..."ahh, ok, erm I'll look for him then, shall I?" ...as eloquent as...... He failed to poke his head out from his four-walled shell and come looking for yours truly, so I buggered off. A thousand curses and three, no four, mouldy crisps for Roger and The Emperor's Fist for alerting him to the dangers of incompetence.
On an unrelated note, I recently received a most curious message that had been dropped outside my door. I'm still in the process of deciphering it, but I believe I've identified the culprit. It goes something like this:
WHSmith Retail Ltd
14-15 Market Street
UP TO 20% OFF PRIV CARD 0.00
LLD WHS MULTIPURPOSE PAP 4.99
TOTAL 4.99
2 Item(s) sold
GAVIN served you today
It seems to me that this Gavin is trying to threaten me. Well, I tell you now, Gavin, it won't work, I know you're bluffing. Served! ME! preposterous! The last time I was served was back in Vietnam in '67 and that was only because I'd drunk too much fermented lychee and mistakenly wandered into a restaurant, imagining it a public convenience. Any help deciphering the rest of the message would be much appreciated.
"just some guy, ya know? withstands a hail of fire and grenades from Roger and The Emperor's Fist to take the life of The Emperor's Fist, but loses Roger in the non-existent crowd when he hid his weapons."
Report That hell-forsaken warren was no place for a rookie, but D.I. Nner had no choice but to take one there; there were heavy risks and he was reluctant to risk losing the chance to ever savour another doughnut. Still, he felt an almost parental compassion for the nervous lad at his side. He'd given him some basic training, and run the basic facts past him, but words never helped in these situations; only the actions themselves would alleviate or bring an abrupt end to his nerves.
They reached the doorway which D.I. Nner's research told him led to the man they sought. He looked at the lad he'd brought with him, and realised he could not risk such a young 'un without showing him how to do it. He seized the doorhandle and charged in, blasting the fiend in the room beyond. He looked back and saw the young constable's eyes widen in shock, then harden with determination. That second look was what told D.I. Nner the most - he'd make a killer of this one yet.
/"It had been three days since *Constable In Communist Russia, The Game Loses You!* had moved into his new office at Police HQ. Those first three days had been taken up with 200 page documents on health and safety, miles of red tape - which he kept tripping over in a humorous manner, and the obligatory Initiation Ceremony, an event consisting of defen-/***FILE ENTRY CORRUPT***/-/I didn't know she was a virgin!'/" "Turning up for work on Wednesday morning, he was dismayed to see that his superior, *Detective Inspector Nner* (a curious man, whom he had yet to fathom why his surname had two silent N's in), had already claimed the month's supply of donuts following a vicious RBG shootout that morning in the parking lot. Sighing, he travelled up the inexcusably long driveway to the Initiate Constable's Shed, up the creaky spiral staircase, along the pitfall-laden corridor, remembering to take the sharp left at the T-junction before into his office at the 3rd door on the right, and clocked in for the day. Darting a glance towards a particularly jammy, half-eaten donut hovering on the edge of the table (with sprinkles), his gaze was met by two piercing eyes behind a pair of curiously horn-rimmed spectacles, as well as the laser sight crudely sellotaped to the end of a 9mm revolver cunningly disguised as a curve-d piece of yellow fruit." Nner: '/Good morning Constable.' /Icrtgly: /''Mornin' sir. Erm, would you mind pointing that laser away from my retina please, sir?" /Nner: /'Ah yes of course. Now, where was I? Ah yes. Constable - I've tracked down the lairs of several more of those villainous Incas, and I need you to be at my side when I strike the killing blow tonight.' /Icrtgly: '/You admire my skill and want me as your back-up sir?' /Nner:/ 'No you fool! I need a dim-witted meat shield to coax the enemy out of hiding. Arm yourself at sundown Icrtgly, for tonight, you might just learn how to fight with armaments beyond the common letter opener.' /*and with a blur of sexually provocative movement, Nner had vanished*/
/"Scurrying through the back alleyways surrounding Market Square, our intrepid heroes went a-hunting for their elusive targets, in the forms of T. Gizbert, J. Simm and T. Barbour. After pouncing on J. Simm through an unlocked doorway, the Valiant Nner added yet another notch to the hilt of his RBG. The others were less inclined to engage in 'aggressive negotiations', although Gizbert did disclose vital clues of his claims to fame in a certain Hollywood film production. Killing time afterwards, Nner and Icrtgly did gallantly requisition a stash of bagels from the Emmanuel canteen, before partaking in some sightseeing chez Christ's and Caius, and then finally dissipating into the ether./
Summary: Robert Bell was bearing, so Big Kahuna Burger stabbed him
Targets: N/A
Killed: Robert Bell
Date: 29/10/2008
Time: 20:55
Robert Bell made the fatal error of conducting society business at the CURAS pubmeet with a knife. He then made the fataler error of stashing said knife behind his ear for all to see, so I stabbed him for bearing.
i was shocking murdered on wednesday night, around 9PM. there i was, siting with my real ale brethren, enjoying pleasant conversation over our favorite alcoholic beverage in the st radegund. then suddenly, a stab from across the table straight into my chest. i fell to the floor, blood flowing from me, mixing with the beer from my spilt pint.my murderer, Big Kahuna Burger, standing over me, surveying his work. the lesson here fellow assassins...do not openly use a knife in its pen capacity for cambridge university real ale society business....assassins are everywhere, and they are always watching.....
Tonight Dave The Slave made his biggest mistake to date. The evening started pleasantly enough with a quiet drink with an old friend at a well known watering hole. Talk soon turned to what the other was doing and Dave The Slave mentioned our honourable Guild. His friend seemed interested so Dave explained further and also mentioned that he was thinking about making an attempt this very evening on one incompetent Thomas Gizbert. His friend asked if he may tag along and Dave The Slave said he would be more than happy to have some company. Shortly there after, they left the public house together and made their way to St Cat's where they were easily able to gain access due to a large group of students congregated at the door. Ascending the appropriate stairwell, the soon found themselves outside the door of their chosen target. It is at this point that Dave The Slave discovered his grave error. By not fully explaining the rules of the game to his new accomplice (after all there are a lot of them...), he suddenly found that the lad was introducing himself to the occupant as "room security"! At this point, Dave jumped his accomplice and threw a bag over his head lest he say anything else that may cause further embarrasment or awkwardness. He swiftly appologised to their intended target and made his retreat, dragging his bound and gagged sidekick down the stairs. He would like to assure everyone that this particular individual is now simultainiously visiting 5 very different areas of Cambridge so won't make the same mistake again (actually I just sent him a copy of the rules and told him he had to read it before he could come out with me again...!)
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