The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 News

What a fortuitous little experimental venture that was, for it culminated in profit. Sometimes, one need go merely as far as the plodge for the subject to appear. How do we know? Because we discovered this with SCIENCE!

[Eerie music]
Said the lord unto his lady as he rode over the moss
"Beware of Long Lankin that lives amongst the gorse
Beware the moss, beware the moor, beware of Long Lankin
Make sure the doors are bolted well
Lest Lankin should creep in."

Unfortunately for Thomas Gizbert, he had not bolted his door well.

I remember it like it was yesterday; my last kill. The air was still that day and the sun bright like the lamp that had kept me studying through the night, but to me everything was a haze. My adrenalin was still surging through me like the Cam over the weir after a rainstorm and I was tired. Tired from running through those narrow corridors, up those impossible stairs and from hiding. Hiding was the only thing that saved me, hiding and plotting. Plotting a way to retake the advantage as my right arm bled all over the floor. Some muse or fate was looking over me though as I made my offer because it stuck and I had my one chance to scrape through to the end of the day, to survive.

I swore I'd never again get myself mixed up in the whole sordid affair. Yet here I was, outside another faceless door, looking for another faceless man. He had a name and an address. They all did. I needed to get in, and my mind travelled back to another time. It doesn't matter how safe you think you are, there's always one that will betray you. Sometimes for a bribe, sometimes for their own lives, sometimes just for fun. I've felt dirty before, from the rotten corners I've found refuge in, from the blood spattering across my face as I finish a job and from using every advantage I'm given. I don't give them a chance, my targets, they don't know me, they don't know who I know, they don't know the lengths I'll go to to get them.

This one was no exception, he had a weakness, an ally that was all too easily amused by death. I entered with caution, but if this was a trap then I knew who'd be winning an oscar next year. The jester knocked for me, and some futile parlance ensued until the door opened. I momentarily froze as I remember the first door that opened to me, just an amateur then, barely armed and even less aware. The portal had opened nonetheless, and I had stepped through it, into this world of death and horror. A flick of my wrist and the body had slumped noisily over the desk. Then I was gone, fearful of discovery, holding my own passion in check until I reached a sanctuary and could breathe again.

This time was easier. It was like tying your shoelaces, you never forget how to fire with the right timing, to aim just right, to retain an extra shot should the unexpected happen. The body fell to the floor with that motion, like crumpling paper, and a soft thud. The jester cackled behind me as I checked the scene, collected the evidence and like every time before, was gone.

It had felt good though. I swore I wouldn't return, but I had, just this once, just one more job, one more kill. The rooftop hadn't been enough. That kill hadn't been enough. The absurd twists of probability that had let to my triumph that day hadn't been enough. I had to tempt them again, to dare them, to challenge them to see who was better, who had the control, me or the universe. Me or the universe. Is it me, or am I being toyed with like my anonymous victims, wandering along the icy streets as I sit perched, watching them walk to their doom. Perhaps it's me, perhaps the choices I've made are the reason I'm still alive, or perhaps I'm another puppet, here to amuse the jesters. Perhaps it's just one more kill.

I'm happy to report that I did indeed return to the Barnwell fortification via means of immense cunning, charming personality and a core key. There whilst supping tea I happened upon the hapless and almost completely naked The Tamegoose at around 10.15pm. Sadly for him, I struck him through the head with a cavalry sabre as he uttered 'I don't wanna play this game anymore.' He is now happily out of his misery.

At 11:29am, I re-infiltrated the site I had scouted out two moons prior. All was clear and no one questioned my disguise - black coat, rucksack slung over teh right shoulder in a scholarly manner, and Science Society hat. I located the room of the target with the help of an unsupecting student, and proceeded to said room. After knocking, I entered and with a friendly smile, stabbed the target who had just risen from his bed.

Having failing to spot Skree on numourous attempts while coming out of his lectures, I didn't expect to be able to take him down this way, but as I left a building nearby today, I saw a somewhat familiar figure leaving a lecture hall.

Unsure, I followed them at a safe distance, waiting for a sign that it was the right person. As they headed towards the right college, I decided to call their name.

They spun round upon hearing it, but it was too late for them, my knife pen had already tasted blood and was now lodged in my target's back. Realised this, he cried "oh no!" and collapsed. One of the target's friends wished to shake hands with me for the deed, which I did, then quietly left.

Thanks
Gingerlink

Oh dear. I think I may need to visit confession again. I swear I just meant to say 'hello'. Alas, the gun in my hand went off in a plume of acrid smoke. I suspect the priest may not be so willing to accept my heart-rending contrition this time. Guess I'll just have to twist his arm (not literally...well...now that you mention it...) with, ahem, certain photoshopp...I mean, photo-graphed images.

I went looking for Trinity on yesterday at around 4:15 in the afternoon, but got lost in the [college name removed] maze, before finally finding her door, and discovering she wasn't in. And it rained. And I got wet. :(

Dave The Slave decided it was time to fulfil his vow. Stealth monkey had plagued this earth for long enough. He walked south to the darklands of Homerton College where he made his way to the residence of his chosen target. Upon arriving, he discovered the lights were off and no one was home. Dave The Slave could not believe his plan had been thwarted once again but as he stood outside pondering what to do next, the lights came on and he saw through the curtains the one that he was looking for. Similtainiously he noticed that a kind individual was entering the building and was able to follow them through the door. Making his way down the corridor, he checked his sidearm was readily available inside his jacket - it was.

Just one obsticle left...arriving outside the correct door, he checked the corridor for witnesses - there were none. He pulled out his hand gun, tried the door and discovered that Stealth monkey had clumsily left his door unlocked. Walking in, he promptly shot the occupant twice...and then allowed him to finish his phone call. It turns out that he was about to leave his room to go for food so it seems that Dave The Slave was exceptionally lucky tonight. With luck on his side, he decided to pay a visit to the incompetent LH. Unfortunatly he had used the age old "not being there" ploy so Dave The Slave packed up his weapons and headed for home.

Caecilius paid me a visit today. Unfortunately he was unprepared for a full-scale battle and fell to gunfire after fleeing into a toilet. Also, "This house says I'm a complete idiot". I could kick myself.....although I would need a severely dislocated and warped leg for a proper kicking....or a prosthetic leg. Can someone lend me one?

At 21:00 Halloween night i spilled the incompetent blood of Comrade LH. In his execution i used the almighty "Soviet 5 Second Plan":

1st second - I knock on his door 2nd second - He opens the door 3rd second - I ask him whether he liked Stalin's policies of agricultural collectivisation 4th second - My kendo sword finshes his incompetent life 5th second - 5 Second Plan completed in 4 - Rejoice Comrades!

Tiring of always being alone on a friday night, Prof P. T. Johnstone decided he would leave his decadent college and, by means of a bijection, travel to Churchill to visit his target. Scouting round the strange set of 'pav', Prof P. T. Johnstone espied his target but how to get close without arousing suspicion. Prof P. T. Johnstone then realised it was trivial, he would consider the set of all subsets of bijections and obviously, by the inclusion exclusion principle, he would be included in the group. Prof P. T. Johnstone then partied all night. So hard, in fact, that his toupee fell off. Prof P. T. Johnstone was decidedly unhappy about killing his target as he seemed like such a decent chap, however needs must. Prof P. T. Johnstone's knife suddenly bijected into his poor targets heart, his dying words being "I thought you were one of the cool professors". An obviously fatal mistake made by the poor chap.

This All Hallow's Eve marked the demise of yet another Assassin. After a night of slasher films, I became inspired to commit similar deeds. One Assassin's house (that of one The Beige Bandit) was vaguely on my way home. Estimating that, it being Hallowe'en, revelry would be in full swing and I could lurk relatively unnoticed, I approached his house. Creeping down the darkened alleys, I espied a cloaked figure hurrying in the opposite direction. Quel surprise! it was the very man I was seeking to murder. As I engaged him in conversation, my hand closed around the Killer Spider in my pocket. The spider didn't like being gripped so tightly, and became enraged. I released him upon the body of Mr The Beige Bandit, and the spider's venomous fangs sank deep into its victims helpless body. As the light died from his eyes, he uttered with his last breath: "I can't believe you killed me."

After three consecutive days of 45-minute pre-lecture lurkings, both around Bob's lodgings and around his place of lecture, I am forced to conclude that he has gained powers of invisibility, or that I need a new prescription for my glasses. Alas, I am now incompetent, and possibly blind.

Friday morning I lurked Cakeface for 3/4 hour. He was either not in his room or did not get up and go to his lectures, because there was neither sight nor sound of him for the entire time.

I, Uncle Jack, got up this morning feeling it would be a good day to hunt people. I walked to [college removed] where I visited the doors of Nocturne and Jamy Dodger. Both were locked and there appeared to be no sound from within. Following this I walked to [college removed], wanting to locate the very hungry caterpillar. I found the door but once again no one home. Disappointing day but you can't win them all!

I went to kill Caecilius, but found a corpse lurching towards me instead, brandishing a water-gun. The thing fired an ineffectual spray of water. However, a hail of nerf darts yielded a hit through his back as he turned to run, sending him straight back to hell. At this point I was informed that my target had already been killed.

Lurked outside Burrell's Field for a while in the rain today :(

Then tried amazingly, he's door, but he (wisely I suppose, but quite irritatingly) would not open the door so I could *visit my friend* upstairs.

Lurked for a while longer until I was totally fed up with the rain.

Will be back...

This evening, as I sat dutifully working over an example sheet, I heard a knock on my door. "Who is it?" I called.

There was no answer.

Again, I called out "Who is it?"

Again, there was no answer.

A chill ran through me as I realised the person on the other side of the door wanted to kill me.

"Well I'm not coming out if you're going to kill me!" I yelled hysterically.

But I knew, knew I could not live like this, knew I could not live with someone out to kill me, knew what I must do. I must kill them first.

Gun in hand, I hovered at my door, before quickly unlocking it and thrusting my gun out - I saw a flash of some bright colour and heard a startled syllable of suprise - I fired wildly at it, then, closing my door, I yelled "Did I get you?", then, after no answer, "Did I kill you?".

I'm pretty damn sure I shot the dude, but the scoundrel scurried off.

I made an attempt of the life of Someone Somwhere this evening. Things did not go as planned. I managed to infiltrate the fortress of [college name removed] under the cover of darkness, finding my way through the network of dimmly lit corridors and to the entrance of her lair. I knocked and awaited her appearance but she remained fast in her stonghold. I could hear the sound of a gun being loaded behind the door. She then appeared minutes later and fired a volley of foam darts at me as I leapt out from the wall and attempted to shoot her with a bananna. One of the darts hit the weapon and it fell from my hand. Realising I was outclassed, I returned with lighting swiftness to my sanctum, there to plan my next action.I will return.

Dear Umpire, This evening I got very wet. The water involved was not of the horisontal-coming-from-assassin variety, rather the less interesting (but significantly wetter) vertical-falling-from-sky type. First I wandered into [college name removed] in search of one The buzzard. His room was unfortunantly locked, and as half an hour of lurking provided no further interest (besides the rather understocked nature of the fridge), I moved on. By this point I was already distinctly damp, so decided I might as well go all the way to Orient Express's lair- at least to have a look round. Alas, another locked door and unanswered doorbell left me increasingly soggy. On the long journey home, I paid a short visit to Chatterton's room. After gaining entrance to the building and getting increasingly lost in the winding corridors, I finally located the room, tragically also empty and locked. All in all, a rather unsuccessful evening.

Between 10:20 and 11:000 I investigated the lairs of incompetent Sparks gauzo and Little Miss Awful. gauzo appeared to be either out or lost to the world performing some kind of diabolical experiment for the duration of my visit and his door was secure. My stay outside the lair of Mr. Little Miss Awful was cut short when someone came out of his kitchen. Not knowing whether this was him or not, and with both of us suitably defended by doors, I decided to remove myself and lurk at another time.

This is a Public Safety Announcement:
Incompetence kills
There are many ways to prevent yourself becoming incompetent. Here is a sample of how to do it:
1) Look on the incompetence list
2) Locate a player on there
3) Go to their room. After this you are faced with some decisions
a) If their door is open, go in and attempt to kill them
b) If their door is closed, and you know what they look like, lurk their corridor in the hope they leave/enter
c) If their door is closed, knock on their door very loudly claiming to be Tom Baker and asking if they want to fly with you in your time machine.
This will avoid you becoming incompetent.

Finally- someone was in their room! At about 1pm I killed the incompetent criminal Jamy Dodger with a bang shot to the chest through his open window- He seemed rather relieved!

I went to Clay Pigeon's staircase today but he was not in according to his 'in/out' thing. I still went to his room just in case and after camping for about 30 minutes, and trying the door knob I played some loud music outside his room to try and get him to come out but nothing. I assume that means he really was out.

Fate, it seemed, was not smiling on my poor target as a chance encounter in my own college led to his demise. Of course, as a mathematician there is trivially no such thing as fate. It all comes down to probability and the law of large numbers (which is of course based on the law of large sets postulated by myself). Anyhow, I digress, the poor fellow partook in hall and afterwards I slipped a knife between his ribs.

We are always pleased to see new members at *unspecified society which often wanders so far off topic as to be virtually unrecognisable as said society*. We especially like the membership cards they fill in, which give useful details such as name and college. We enjoy discussing the finer points of the *unspecifieds* of evil dictators, whether America should be *unspecified*, and hamster-powered *unspecifieds*. We occasionally get so enthusiastic about these things that we feel the need to keep discussing them after the society meeting has finished, while walking home - right up until the point when we stab our victim.

Jules: I used the same notepad you did and when I did my noticeboard, the notebook didn't look like a fuckin' letter. Look, fuck it, alright. Who cares? But it's shit like this that's gonna bring this situation to a boil. If he were to come in here and see that towel like that...I'm tellin' you Assassin, you best be cool. 'Cause if I gotta storm my room with a supersoaker every time I come in on account of you....Look, I ain't threatenin' you, I respect you an' all, just don't put me in that position.

Decided to take a postprandial meander around the incompetents' hideouts. I soon bumped into Little Miss Awful exiting his corridor and was rather surprised at the commendable speed with which he realised I was an assassin. Possibly, my removable Van Dyck beard and tache isn't working out as I'd hoped. I thought I'd stand by a wall and try imitating a 17th century portrait......no luck. However, I'd already loaded up, so I shot him as the lily-livered bandicoot ran away, bewildered at finding myself in the australian outback......

On another note, I saw a certain red-coated assassin today and, my mind suffused with paranoia, contemplated killing her on the off-chance I was on her target list. She kept her hands away from her pockets and I edged back into the shadows to collapse in a fit of nerves.

Cakeface and Diogenes head on over to the Hoglump Homestead. After making a very sneaky entrance, Diogenes attempts to track down gauzo, only to find - blast! - that his name didn't appear next to his door number. Not willing to risk innocent life, the courageous constable chooses not to banana the poor fellow, and the pair move on.

Cakeface has a date with none other than Roger, but alas the poor ruffian doesn't deem to be in. A shame - but, nonetheless, Cakeface is glad to narrowly avoid some incompetence! The pair make a swift exit out the back.

With the aid of a turncoat, Diogenes and Cakeface proceed to gain access to the Barnyard Bastion. However, as with the Homestead - Fiddlesticks! - Braveheart and El Matador seemed to be out for the night.

After a confusing encounter with two former assassins, the pair decide to leave.

Dear Umpire

I was riding down kings parade at great speed, wind ruffling my hair and my cloak flying behind me when I happened to see, out of the corner of my eye, Brigadier James III meandering down the other side of the street. I reined in my charger and tied it to a nearby post, before hurrying down the dusty lane. My target was blissfully unaware of my presence until I jumpedat him from behind and brutally stabbed him. The time was 11.10.

Haukr

A lurker jumped out at me from my bathroom today. I went back into my room and shot a few blind shots against the walls just in case. Good job with the lurking, but maybe you shouldn't have wasted that moment checking if I was your target. I wonder if you're still around........better check.

Whilst strolling home from the day's lectures, Cakeface decides to take a short detour to the Wolf Moon Base in search of one certain Dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflusher. After an entry slicker than a barrel of greased eels in a chip shop, Cakeface makes his way to the lair of his mark... but, quite by surprise, is taken short, and thus makes for the nearest toilet.

Having just finishd on the throne, Cakeface hears some movement outside. A peek round the door reveals that the source of the commotion is none other than - what luck! - the scoundrel Dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflusher! The pastry-faced idiot whips out his mighty weapon for the second time that afternoon and leaps from the room. Dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflusher pulls a face reminiscent of an unfortunate botox patient, mutters some choice expletives, and dives straight into his room, ineffectually flicking some rubber bands into the hall a moment afterwards.

Feeling rather sorry for the poor chap, Cakeface pockets his knife and makes his weary way out of the base. Oh well - there's always next time!

This is a Public Safety Announcement:
Incompetence kills
Incompetence can come in a variety of ways
1) Not bothering to try and kill people you are meant to try and kill
2) Killing someone who looks like your target, is in the correct building and has the same name.
*note the latter is an out of game incompetence and makes you wanted but not incompetent*
Avoid both.
If you are unable to avoid either, go to try and kill people.
If they are nice like T-unit they will die.
If they are not nice like Brigadier James III they will do their best to die, but fail.
Either way, try to kill people.
Or lurk their rooms.
Lurking for people like Kupfernickel, Bob is aided by looking sweet and innocent as people will let you into the building.
Also if you are scared take a friend like SCIENCE! to calm the nerves.
This will avoid you becoming incompetent.

I trotted slinkily down the corridor smiling with sexy joy at the pleasure that was to come... I slipped a cloven paw under my t-shirt and checked my nipples. moist. a good sign.

I had been stalking Stephen Yang for days (the yangster I liked to call him)... nothing to do with assassins, more of a hobby, but like my other hobbies (LARP and finance) it was looking like I might profit from it. I LOLed silently to myself as I checked the door handle and found it unlocked. All this good fortune was making me hard.

As soon as I stepped into the room I knew something was amiss... My soon-to-be bride lay, eyes closed, groaning in the bed (he wasn't wanking, he was ill).

He barely stirred as I crept over and slid myself under the covers, I hoped he wasn't a jew, considering how hard I was going to pork him XDDDD

His eyes finally jerked open as I slid my hot pigmeat into his tight tailhole. "what? i'm not a fu-" his words died on his lips... as did his life! Being able to kill with a touch wasn't making me any new friends, but I was getting a lot more sex.

AS I was on my way to [unspecified college] to search for people to kill, I happened to bump into the honouraable D.I. Nner and another police officer while they were roaming the streets. Seeing as we had the same objectives in mind, I joined up with them in their search. Unfortunately, our hunt was barren; we looked for Bob, Brigadier James III and Chatterton but found no-one. We then proceeded to John's, where we successfully rooted out gauzo and T-unit- only to find that both of them were already dead. Having mutilated their corpses, the party went their separate ways, with nothing to show for their work. Oh well, maybe tomorrow will bring better luck.

The preliminary stages of yet another investigation took place today. Application of relentless "Pulp Fiction" references may still yield a fail, as we are informed by SCIENCE!

just some guy, ya know? sneaks discretely into the room of Paul "The Hammer" Dickinson and viciously does murder upon him.

I, Uncle Jack, paid a visit to St John's to find the incos gauzo and T-unit. I found gauzo's room and altho he was marked as 'IN', he didn't appear to be. After lurking for about 5 minutes and seeing no one, I moved on to T-unit's room. When I found it, I didn't so much need a body bag as a mop...it would appear I wasn't the first...

just some guy, ya know? eliminated by shot to the chest shortly after he left the Calling at 2:19. It was a bit chilly out.
Three other assassins were also spotted.

I had already debated with myself about assassinating Logan, now incompetant, as he would make a worthy accomplice, but it came down to the fact that he was the last remaining big threat to me, with the other assassins who know me well all being taken down already.

After the computer science lecture, i waited around outside, as he seemed to be taking a while before coming out. I doubled back and hid in the crowds of people waiting for the next lecture. Seeing him finally come out of the lecture hall, I followed, but he caught site of me. I began to head off in a different direction, leaving him to contemplate what to do next, but turned and made two blows with my Killer Link Plush Knife, one to his right arm and the second to his chest.

Whilst approaching the door of the lair of the Madboy gauzo, I suddenly espied a movement from the kitchens to my left. Naturally I had my Pneumatic Bolt Disgorger to hand, so I fired off a shot whilst moving back behind a corner to dodge the villain's salvo of Rubber Bullets.
No shots hit their mark, the cad shut the door on my attempt to assault him once more, this time with my Dihydrogen Oxide Powered Death-laser. Fearing this unknown Spark may have been trying to outflank me, I gathered up the spare bullets on the floor and retreated to fight another day.

So there I was, wondering whether [name of building not inserted] was really the college's rubbish dump masquerading as fresher accomodation when some guy snuck into his corridor and started firing at an innocent assassin. Needless to say, we were both useless at firing blind around a 180 degree barrier. So I shifted it as fast as I could to draw him into an ambush....he didn't follow.

Summary: Big Kahuna Burger unsuccessfully lurked Gingerlink
Targets: Gingerlink
Killed: N/A
Date: 05/11/2008
Time: 14:40

I arrived at the residence of one Gingerlink at roughly 14:40 today. His room appeared to be a shared room or sub-corridor of some description, making it likely his roommate was working as an accomplice in some capacity, so I opted to refrain from the direct approach. Ascertaining that at least one of the residents was present, I retreated slightly to where I could keep an eye on traffic in and out of the room (hopefully) without arousing too much suspicion. There was no activity for some twenty minutes afterwards, at which point further scouting suggested that whoever was in the room, my target or his roommate, was still present and unlikely to emerge for some time. Having business to conduct elsewhere, I retreated just after 15:00.

Corruption seeps through everything in this Capitalist den! And it has reached a point where even the righteous Police Force is no longer so righteous.. Ospaetzle was not the most corrupt, he didnt take too many bribes, he didnt trip old ladies much... But he was incompetent! With assassins as fearful as me on these shady streets this was unforgivable - he had to be purged! Again! And this time in true holidary spirit - with a scythe! At 15:10 today Comrade Serguei A Mouratov was no more (with his family deported to Siberia for a relaxing holiday as compensation).

After some highly successful information gathering, I and Haukr waited outside a certain lecture theatre, where we has strong evidence suggesting The buzzard would be. The crowds started to amass as the time of the lecture neared, yet there was no sign of him, as I watched and waited to spring. The lecture started, the last of the latecomers trickled by, yet still his face did not apppear. We were about to give up and try another day, when a final group approached, and right at the back was a suspicious face. As they gathered to collect their notes, I entered into their midst and stabbed my target in his belly with a concealed knife. He never saw it coming.

I waited (with a pen marked 'KNIFE') outside the Babbage lecture theatre today at 16:55pm after previously finding out that Chili is a Medic. Unfortunately, and to my great frustration he was nowhere to be seen.

At about 9:15pm Dave The Slave pressed the buzzer for my room. I answered and was told that a note had been left outside for me, would I like to have it pushed under the door? I said yes, and went down to collect it. Two boys from my floor took it upon themselves to come down with me and (against my wish) opened the door to Dave The Slave. My impromptu accomplices did a great job of acting like they didn't know me, and we started chatting. As soon as Dave The Slave mentioned he was an assassin, I raised the cardboard gun I had hidden behind my accomplices and shot him in the head. Very good feeling.

One step closer to regaining competence!

By the way, the note read 'Uncle Jack came. He will return'