The Assassins' Guild - Week 3 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 3 NewsAl Mualim. The one you sent me to kill is dead. Prateush Singh, the doctor who treats his patients like experiments. The Templar.
I discovered both the time and place to strike by utilising my contacts within the city. A meeting among men of medicine, which he would attend. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen delays, I arrived shortly after the meeting had ended, but I was still able to espy the Templar amongst the dispersing crowds.
I tracked him through the city, keeping my distance, unwilling to reveal myself in the presence of the townspeople. Through the market, to his fortress, [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE]. Once inside the fortress, he was more or less on his own, with only two companions, neither of which presented a threat. Drawing my crossbow, I closed the distance between us, before calling his name. The Templar turned, and my crossbow bolt thudded into his chest.
As his lifeblood sunk into the earth, I was able to glean some useful information. Apparently, this man hailed from the same [UNSPECIFIED LOCATION] as myself! What horror is this that you have hidden from me, Master? What atrocities have the Templars committed in my home town?
I shall return to Masyaf at once.
I had a busy day today fighting against injustice. First I payed Big Dave of [UNSPECIFIED] College a visit. Unfortunately, when I knocked on the door, no one answered. I concluded that Big Dave was either not home, or he was too clever to be killed by such a simple trick. Having failed in my first pursuit, I decided to try again, this time with the incompetent Malithi Hennayake. Fortunately for me, when I knocked she told me to come in. Unfortunately for me, she was already dead. Its hard to tell sometimes if an assassin is really dead (those tricky devils and their talking dead bodies...) so I stabbed her once just to make sure. The time was approximately 1:30. Having failed twice already, I was determined not to end my hunt unsuccessfully. Therefore, I decided to try one finally time with Fiona Berreby. This time, I was finally successful. I found Fiona alone in her room, and stabbed her when she opened the door at 1:55 P.M.
Umpirical note: You are perfectly at liberty to deny that you are an Assassin. However, you are not allowed to claim that you are a Dead Assassin and hence harmless. You may also not lie about the vital status of other Assassins who are immediately present.
Today I shot the corrupt Chief of Police, Adam Guterres and the bearing Super-Coryan, Wilson-Shah but the glorious and most handsome umpire decided to disallow the kills. They then shot me back and the umpire lolled a bit. Woo. Everyone loves flags but I got the most.
Today I spoilerifically ran that society I run every now and again in which people run around and shoot each other. Whilst we were there, our entirely non-corrupt Chief of Police, the Umpty Dumpty, and myself all took it in turns to shoot The Blue and Yellow Monster Group. A strange man on a bike turned up and looked at us. When we walked towards him, he cycled away. It was an unusual sort of afternoon.
I killed Chris Hands (Churchill) at about 18:00 this afternoon.
He opened his door. I shot him.
I found myself walking behind a known incompetent, her incompetence radiating around her like only radiating incompetence can. Upon stabbing her I noted that she was in fact already dead. So what if I enjoy corpse mutilation?
Upon arriving at The Purge's college, I approached his door after dodging the various card systems and it was quite apparent that he was not in, nor were there any obvious places to hide until he appears. So I stationed myself outside his hall ready to strike on him at first sight but still he did not appear. To travel far to find your opponent will you thirsty, and then not to find them, only heightens that...
Useless incompetent Yuan Zhang went out to dinner. He got stabbed. By me. Snigger.
Schimmying down the schtreet, I eschpied a schertain Aaron Barker schlipping off over the cobbleschtonesch. scheeing asch I'm schean fucking connery, I schlipped my scharpened schabre between hisch schpleen and hisch inteschtinesch. He schounded a schmall schtifled schtart, before a deathly schpaschm schook hisch corpsche. Aschking who I wasch, I for schome reaschon deschided to tell him I wasch another aschaschin... schomehow he believed me, which wasch a schurprische. I'm scho schmooth.
After walking for what truly was an exorbitant length of time (2 days and 4 nights) to arrive at the most distant part of Cambridge possible (that damned [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE]) I found the wanted's room and, hearing none inside proceeded to wait outside in a hidey hiding place. After a lapse of nearly 2 hours to no avail (merely bemusing passers-by), I decided to force the situation along by knocking on the door to either draw him out or achieve nothing. He tried to kill me (so he was inside all along...) but instead I shot him in the arm with my pistol. Wounded, he next professed his desire not to kill me, and then came to kill me. With the most unfair gun ever fired ever. Imagine a gun with a billion rounds. Yeah, that was the one. After a deflected shot wounded my arm in turn (some sort of retaliation), I leapt into his room but was shot down innumerable times before I could do anything other than get shot innumerable times.
They were out to get him.
Hang-gliding mice laid siege to Dr. Talos' fortress each night. They were trying to break through his magically warded window into the room he sat bunkered in. For the past two nights these dark creatures, sent by the Ministry, had battered against his defences. Now, on the third night, exhaustion was beginning to take its toil. He had barely slept; for their malevolent squeaks filled his dreams with terror.
"Damn furry animals, they're all the same. You allow them any freedom and they'll repay you by trying to kill you!"
Another assault battered upon the blinds of his room. He searched his bottomless jacket pocket for his last hope, the ultimate weapon to vanquish dark creatures...."nope....no....no..." he muttered bringing forth the mandatory array of alcoholic drinks....."Gah, not more bloody Atlantean Absinthe .there is a time and a place, and the time and the place is not now". "AHA! Knew I had it somewhere!" his arm plunged full length into his coat and he brought forth the Feral Thermophilic Crumpet. Placing it on the windowsill, he gingerly released it from its chains and into the night. Outside, he heard the frantic death-squeaks of the hang-gliding mice, as the heat-seeking crumpet savaged them.
Then he heard it. His other exit was being smashed down! The hang-gliding mice were just a diversion (how entertaining) from the real assault, to give the other assailant time to unwind the wards. Swiveling around as his door gave way, he saw the figure of the Minister for Muggle Bashing enter the room, brandishing his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" the Minister cried. Dr. Talos dived just in time into one of the mounds of bureaucratic forms that covered his floor. The next curse set fire to his hiding place, but he was able to dispatch the Minister by turning him into a pancake.
There were no socks.
Umpirical Note: Generally, rebounds don't count. This includes nerf darts.
I started by visiting [UNSPECIFIED] college around noon, once again attempting to find Robert Cecil. He did not appear to be available, and defeated, I left. Then, I visited [UNSPECIFIED] site, trying to track down Albino. Spent time between 12.30 and 1.30 there, but the blighter was tricksy, and despite knowing he would be searching for food at 1ish, my attempts to locate the target proved again fruitless. Last, I returned to [ORIGINAL UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE], hoping to finally land a kill on the elusive Robert Cecil...no such luck, still nobody to kill.
After lectures, i went back via [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] to try and assassinate Os, but unfortunatly, he (or his roommate, whoever was in there), refused to open his door without a name. Even if i didn't have flu, i'd have struggled to do a decent female voice, so i decided to try again at another time. I then went to bunnies's (incompetent) room, but he was out.
It seemed worth a try, given a few minutes free time for once this week, to visit his department. He apparently leaves lectures and so forth at this given time. But once again no sight of him; in the building, in the bike racks or at the sensible bus that he could take.
Yesterday I was in Pembroke with some friends who were interested in this Assassins malarkey. So we popped by Foundress and shot Peter William Hatfield for being an inco police officer. Ho hum.
Arrrrrrr me lovers, this morning Big Dave learnt an important lesson. When a knock on the door wakes you up, it's not a good idea to jump straight up with an addled brain, innit? Despite my refutation of his claim to have my uni card, I still foolishly didn't stop my assassin from coming in and pointing his threatening banana at me. I should have just stayed sleeping, a strategy that got me this far in the game anyway.
This is how my morning was: Got up, found Zoe Holder's room, knocked, she didn' t respond, door unlocked, got in, misfired my banana-gun, got close enough, killed her, went to lectures.
I was working in my room, with, to my shame, my door left wide open, when I heard footsteps approaching. Fearing the worst, I reached for my trusty pistol just as my assassin entered the room. My fears confirmed, a deathly duel ensued, after which we agreed that we were both very much dead.
Honoured bicikesiy,
This, my last búsuc, brings tidings of both joy and sadness.
With help from an anonymous sympathiser, I gained access to the building known as Harvey Court, belonging to Caius dzusnar - a fortress as impregnable as Shumbeor itself. I moved through the building to the room of the Bezusu Galois, whom I had previously failed to kill, and found the door to his room left ajar. I pushed it open, with sword in one hand and pistol in the other, ready for a fight; but as I entered I was caught unawares. The despicable terrorist was heavily armed, and a brutal firefight followed! We drew pistols and each of us loosed a volley of gunfire. For good measure I also stabbed him a few times.
At the end of this intense duel, my assassin was bleeding heavily from multiple puncture and stab wounds in his chest, while I had taken a shot directly to the head. We were both mortally wounded, and it took a supreme effort to shake his hand and congratulate him on his mastery of the Jueshi endi. The terrorist has been neutralised, but at the cost of my life. I am writing this report with the last of my dying strength; I fear I do not have much left. Pel cauch dmaur...
Avenge me, fellow dzureyi! Fight on for the revolution, and do not let my sacrifice be in vain!
Oyes endi mu shu,
"Lu
[The report ends here; it appears that our agent expired before completing it. Note the extensive bloodstains, especially on the lower part of the page.
We can only hope that the remainder of the terrorists are brought to justice before they can do more harm.
- Academician Wenesh]
Greetings, O Great and Glorious Umpire.
I wish to report to you the events which took place on my very own staircase this day, that being Saturday the 11th of November in the Year of Our Lord 2009, at approximately half past the hour of six in the evening.
I had stepped out of my room briefly, and, as I did so, one [ entered through the main doors, acting most suspiciously. I immediately deduced that he must be an assassin, sent by some malicious foreign power -- the only question remaining was 'for whom had he come?' As he began to stealthily (but not quite stealthily enough) ascend the stairs, I concluded his target was my fellow mafioso, who I suspected of being away on business.
Pondering this, I stepped into a small saferoom, until I heard his tread returning down the stairs. I poked my head out, and was promptly asked "Good sir, do you happen to know where I can find Neil B Formy at this point in time?" I denied having any such knowledge, and cunningly interrogated him about his reason for being here. Eventually, he confirmed being an assassin, and further devious questions convinced him to reveal his weapon -- a fearsome shotgun.
At this, my courage near failed me, for I had nothing but a knife. However, my sworn duty of protection to my comrade overcame this cowardice, and I stepped forward and eliminated him with a perfect throw of my blade. It flew straight and true across the hallway, and landed neatly in his head, removing him. As is customary, I then invited his ghost (which wasn't too surprised by this turn of events) in for a brief chat, and we parted as amicably as seemed possible under the circumstances.
Your humble servant, Call me what you will.
After wandering around [UNSPECIFIED] College looking for the correct staircase for Neil B Formy, I finally found it but it appeared quiet. After conversing with Call me what you will through a doorway, it appeared that Neil B Formy was out. Call me what you will enquired about my techniques and my thought process worked along the likelihood of me being backstabbed as I left, so I retrieved my nerf ball gun on my suspicions of Call me what you will also being an assassin. But I was too slow and Call me what you will hit me in the neck with a knife before I could retaliate.
Later turns out my gun wasn't even loaded, so that didn't go so well
Feeling rather dissatisfied with the sluggish progression of his prowess in the field of apparation, Captain Charlie decided to take his head for a swim in the pensieve in the corner. Words formed in the flowing fluid... "Gank" "T3h" "****ing" "Incos". He was amazed at the expletive nature of his subconscious, and that 6-pronged asterisks were so perfectly formed.
Meeting up with Joshua Lewis, Alex Guttenplan and an eager unknown assassin outside The Three Broomsticks, Charlie departed for a spot of incobashing in the city centre.
Xezbeth in [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] was visited initially. Did not respond to the unconventional approach of innocent knocks to his chamber door, which was not surprising as we later gauged from the quadrangle below that his Lumos incantation had gone tits up.
Big Dave, a [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] denizen of 'the ziggurat' was next on our tour guide's points of interest. Our pre-incantations of an attempt to rig a city-wide Alohamora spell appeared to have taken effect here, as our motley crew managed to walk straight in to her room itself. Lights were off, curtains drawn. Setting up camp and cracking open his various bottles of Chardonnay vintage, we waited for a potential return of the lowly inco for at least 15 minutes.
Much hilarity was had in advance as the four of us crammed into this muggle contraption known as an elevator. Captain Charlie was terribly dissappointed to hear no orchestral backing track to their ascent, as his readings on muggle technology had suggested otherwise.
Our accompanying initiate expressed a desire for a duel with a foe of his residing in [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE]. Being of said college, I duly obliged to assist him on gaining entry to the complex, but I stuck to my code of honour and went no further. Heading back out in to the courtyard and leaving in the direction of my fellow raiders, I left the sounds of what seemed to be a particularly destructive and mutual firefight from the upper floors.
Returning to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE], it transpired that my colleagues' further lurking had been fruitless, so we headed to the main courts and tried checking out the dining hall, which had yet to be populated and commence serving. We headed down the road to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE], where Waldron of [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] was said to be residing and subverting the decrees of The Department of Lulz of The Ministry.
Investigating his lair proved unsuccessful, as did checking out his local common room, where a rather entertaining match of Quidditch between Whales and Old Sealand was being broadcast. The Duke, taking point, wandered on in to the dining hall and opened fire on this here Waldron. The inco never stood a chance, and the blue card he had perched on his dinner plate, was irredeemably stained with brain matter.
Guttenplan departed our cohort at this point to engage in a spot of Nomz purchasing. We headed for Botolph Lane to lurk The Naughty Bea of [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE]. For a brief period we were sidetracked by the muggles' unconventional and non-centralised court structure. Duke wandered off for some brief frolicking in [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE], while I remained at [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE ACCOMMODATION]. After five or so minutes pacing I spotted one chap emerge from what I believed to be the door to the inco's sector of the court.
Tailed him up to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] main courts. Walking roughly parallel in the twilight under what seemed to be a new moon over Kings Parade, myself and this Schrodinger's Inco exchanged casual, albeit shifty, glances. He shared the vague facial features I'd been tipped off about. Contemplated calling out The Naughty Bea or a curt 'Bonsoir' to identify an accent and to really hit the nail on the head, but my hesistance got the better of me. Lurking 'round a corner when he was clustered with a set of 6-7 or so [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] denizens, I figured it best to leave this high-risk, not-so-high-gain target for another day.
Reconvening with The Duke, we hit [UNSPECIFIED] staircase together, but the [UNSPECIFIED] room of Elton John was shut, unlit, locked and seemingly unoccupied.
TheDuke dissapparated into the ether, while Captain Charlie was left to sluggishly return home on the pathetic muggle mode of transport known as feet, after a set of charvas outside Gardies had snapped his broomstick.
That leg of dragon looked too tender for my liking... pay attention, boy, or next time it'll be detention!
On one afternoon in Cambridge,
Lemminkainen set to hunting,
Joined a group of bold policemen
Who were out a-killing incos,
Looked around in [UNSPECIFIED] College
For the wanted Xezbeth,
Waited there outside his doorway,
Knocked and waited with their weapons,
Found the room was quite deserted.
Then to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] they travelled
For to take out Big Dave,
Found her room was left wide open,
Moved inside and waited quietly,
Lemminkainen by the doorway.
Thus they hid for many minutes
Ready to destroy the inco,
But the busy hero Ahti
Had more pressing time commitments,
Left the group and travelled onwards.
"all are lunatics but he who can analyse his delusion is called a philosopher" My delusion is the perversion of my enemies, they hide away in their reclusive forts far from the hallowed halls of our university. I would have their castles of clouds torn down, for it makes any attempt on them gloom, monotonous, barren, boring and near suicidal. An Innocent Bystander lives in one such residence, I came, I saw, I retreated, not having a key or a way to make it through the devious locks that barred the way while for being outside dressed all in black at 8:45pm - still, if you cannot beat a man then arrange to have him beaten by another; and in this regard my visit to [unspecified college] was not wholly fruitless. Let us see what the bells of remeberence bring to those who would deny the enlightenment of death.
"I'm a wanted assassin" said Tomas Kesek, at the John's ent. "STAB" said I. Omar claims another scalp.
2 inco's were visited . Elton John was out, Manilla Wallett was in - he has a large hole in his door that he was shot through, but we agreed this was like shooting through a letterbox and did not count.
I was about to sit down to a hearty meal of noodles and water, when a man who said his name was physics attempted to fire several shots at me through the hole in my door. Due to the bizarre natural laws which govern our world, which state that it is impossible to hit someone through a letterbox or other hole, they all bent around me in a strange and Matrix-like fashion. I returned to my meal without being killed.
Umpirical Note: The players are correct: you may not make any kind of attack including firing shots or pushing any other item through keyholes, letterboxes or any other gap in, under or over the door.
I had a strange urge to stick my head out of my room door. I just had a feeling, and wanted to see if there was anybody out there. And there did happen to be a rather friendly fellow with a banana who promptly blew my bananay brains out. I guess now I can get on with some work and stop carrying knives around.
A nice weekend for killing.. Found out that another inco (David Turner) resided near my college.. My first attempt to get in was futile (locked door) but after a nice brunch I went back to his door thinking about a plan to lure him out. I waited for 10 min standing next to his door, and just when I had thought of a nice plan, his door just opened and his head popped out. I drew my banana in an instant and when he turned his head in my direction he looked directly into my gun and a loud "BANG!" ended his life... His ghost showed me a nice arsenal of weapons (including a semi-automatic 12-shot rubber gun) which wouldve meant my end if I had just knocked on his door.. But nice weapons only are not a life-assurance... (Especially if you open your door unarmed to look for assassins) Incos, be scared ...I will come to get you and end your incompetent life
A session of inco-bashing/target tracking ended fruitlessly, with Manilla Wallett, Elton John, Toast and Horatio T Loins all being either absent or unresponsive. Even lurking in a very tight spiral staircase with creaky floorboards failed to profit me much, as the 'R' in BRB clearly didn't refer to 'within 15 minutes'.
My hapless leibling had forgotten to close the door behind her, and we were subsequently surprised by a trio of horrible assassins who gunned me down where I stood, in surprise, clutching my Byron (not a euphemism, a book). I paused briefly to identify one of them as "TidalWave", before clutching my gory wound and sinking for the last time into the poor girl's arms...
On a fine winters day I decided to hunt some incos - easy prey. To the door of Lindermann I go - "Brian, you in?!?" I cry. He was in and rather nippy - a ferocious charge with a hail of bullets failed to slay him and instead he cut my arm off. This lowers my confidence somewhat. We leave. Manilla Wallett is less well prepared - TidalWave strolls in. Shoots him. Leaves with arms intact. Elton John and The Naughty Bea remain elusive...
At 3:45pm, Unknown, Pink Fluffy Bunny and I went off to hunt some incompetents. We stopped at the residence of Lindermann, where Unknown and Pink Fluffy Bunny entered the building and I stood guard outside, watching, in case he wasn't in but arrived back while they were inside. A flurry of activity occured inside, and we soon left to find another target. We went to visit Manilla Wallett next. Having noticed he had left his door open, I creeped up the extremely squeaky stairs before charging in and shooting him in the chest, killing him instantly. Next the three of us paid a visit to Elton John, however he was not in. Finally we attempted to find the residence of The Naughty Bea, but were unable to determine which door in the street was his.
After a lazy Sunday afternoon, Unknown, TidalWave and I decided we wanted to go kill some lazy people, so we met up at the house of Lindermann at appppppprox 1600. After deciding on an intricate plan of action for gaining access, we made our move... Luckily, we met some of the other residents who happily gave entrance to 2 absolute strangers in the form of Unknown and myself. I say luckily, this meant we didn't get to carry out this glorious bit of deception, which some would say is unlucky... I don't think it's really important. What is important, however, is that when Lindermann opened his door to Mr. Unknown, Mr. Unknown fired a barrage of elastic bands in Lindermann's direction, before getting his arm sliced off. This was unfortunate. We left. Next stop was [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] for that well known inco Manilla Wallett at about 1630. TidalWave rushed his room and shot him in the head with an RBG, much to the surprise of the friend he had in his room at the time. Last stop was at Elton John's place at about 1645 I attempted to open the door, but it was locked. Good thing, too, as he wasn't in. Don't want people traipsing around your room if you ain't in.
Its a boring life, stuck in the basements, on picket duty, just waiting around till someone tries to break the law so that you're there to stop them, or maybe just pick up the pieces after they do. The perks that there are this kinda life are few and far between, but that just makes them all the sweeter when one finally gets round to you.
My day started off same as any other day, with endless paperwork. I think that any department in the country, if not the whole damn world's got that problem, not enough pen pushers and too many pens. You gotta find the chit for the equipment you signed out and used 3 weeks ago that you can't remember because their department's got a backlog that's as long as your arm and slowing down the system, and write up the report on some evidence the path lab only just got back to you now because they lost it down the back of a drawer or some other lame excuse. Day brightened up around mid afternoon, the head honcho comes over to me with a smile on his face. We see eye to eye, me and him, more so than some of the other dregs that filtered their way down to picket duty, so he usually picks me out some of the good cases, and gets some of the lackeys to take over the boring bureaucracy. This time its a double bonus, two perps have been involved in some shift business in the centre of town and haven't covered their tracks properly, it's always easiest taking down just plain incompetent criminals. I take the rest of the afternoon to prepare.
My first lead comes up just before 6pm, and I head over to this guy's shabby apartment. When I got there, at about 6:10 the door was hanging off the latch and there was a nasty odour coming from within, so I drew my gun and "proceeded with caution", as they say on TV. Dominic Hinkins was his name, but by the time I found him there wasn't much left. His corpse was hours old, but I could see that I was by no means the only one called in to check this guy out. Turns out about 4 other departments were tasked with taking him down, all on one day, but no-one bothered to tell each other about it. That's the biggest problem with the system, no-one talks to one another, left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing half the time. So I call in the SOCO and get the hell out of there. Its not that I'm squeamish or anything, hell its my job to do that to the unsavoury few in this city that it gets deemed deserve it. It's that it just nags me that the system is so broke, and maybe seems to be mocking me a little. I try to forget it and head on over to my other lead. This one, name of Rebecca Palmer, is out when I get there, which is just perfect for us in picket duty, or "The Waiters" as we get know as around HQ, but I can see that's just an insult on the sly, saying we're never around when you need us, and always slow.
Anyway, this is what I'm good at, so I settle in for the long haul in a doorway, nicely placed with a good view of the perps front door for when she gets back, but leading itself onto nothing but a disused shack with peeling paint and the faint musky smell of damp creeping in. Tonight is my lucky night it would seem, as I'm just getting settled down after about half an hour, which is practically instantaneous for us is picket, when who do I see coming back to their own front door but none other than the filth I have been sent here to clean up, sauntering along as if nothing is wrong. I can tell why she got found out, she doesn't even do the most basic checks for anyone suspicious in the area, just blindly walking along in plain sight. Other departments might like the raid, when you jump in all at once to catch someone when they are relaxing in their own home, but this is what I live for. As she turns the key in the lock, I calmly, as if I am an innocent passer by, step out of my hiding place, walk up to her outside her house and shoot her 3 times in the head.
That's my duty over for the night, I can bother with the paperwork some other day. Time of Death, 6:51 pm. I call in with HQ and get them to sent over the meat wagon to pick up the pieces, and head on home from the stake out to the satisfaction of a job "well done", (blame the police's sense of humour for that one).
I was cycling back from [unspecified film] down Senate House Passage when I passed the ever dodgy Call me what you will. As I continued cycling, he gave chase and ran after me. I knew he was chasing after me as he called out "Twillo", so I decided conflict was excessively dangerous, so cycled away instead.
This evening, a Mr Timothy Kew came to the staircase I was hanging out in with the intent of murdering incompetent WPC Thorneycroft. He told me his cunning plan of knocking on her door and killing her 'just for fun', which I thought seemed reasonable so I allowed him to proceed. Hettie opened the door and quick as a flash, Tim had his knife out and gave Hettie a quick stab. What Tim didn't bargain for was my master move of getting my knife out and stabbing him in the back while he did this. Many lols were had. Apparently he'll "get me when he's police" or something. Frightening.
At 2130 or so, I visited the Incompetent police officer Hester Thorneycroft, with the intention of killing her. Another shifty looking fellow was lurking outside, so I knocked, said "Don't worry, I killed someone yesterday", and stabbed her when she opened her door. Which rather surprised me -- I thought the loud conversation outside in her corridor about how I was visiting with the intention of killing her would be sufficient warning.
He (Count Peduran) then stabbed me for 'bearing'*, so I'm dead as well.
At 8.30am this morning I went to the residence of An Innocent Bystander. He answered when I pressed the buzzer, but I couldn't think of anything plausible to say to convince him to unlock the front door. I then went to the residence of The Jazz Monkey around 8.45am, trying the doorbells of him and one of his flatmates. I detected activiy inside and think I saw a shadowy figure through the opaque glass front door, but that person failed to open the door. At 10.10am I went to the residence of The Blonde Peril and waited for 15 minutes for someone to help me get past the damn locked fire door, but noone turned up to help me. Feeling that I had not done enough in my earlier attempts, I then revisited both An Innocent Bystander and The Jazz Monkey at 10.35am and 10.45am respectively, but both of them were out.
After a lovely lunch at the computer lab cafe, I pulled out my banana gun and shot him in the chest.
In Which Two Pathetic Attempts Are Made;
Attempt the First: Twenty Minutes waited covering multiple Exits to
Lectures and the Site itself but still Vermirillion slipped past.
Attempt the Second: A Visit to Nothing Up My Sleeve found him not on the
Premises, a Forget-Me-Not was left on his door-handle.
Another couple of Girton incos but unfortunately only one death. Alas, yosh wasn't in when i went to visit, but Sean Hewitt kindly opened the door, to recieve a stab in the arm, then the back.
Christian Harrington should have seen the twilight omens. He tried to walk away, but this boy was no match for Franz Ferdinand, who was shopping for blood that night. A quick stab to the heart took him out- well that was easy.
Had Gareth not left his door unlocked and half open while he was playing on Halo, I wouldn't have been able to just walk in and kill him with a couple of quick shots to the chest using my Super Soaker Max-D 2000. But he did leave the door open, and I did kill him.
To avoid an incompetency deadline I decide to attack the source itself - incompetents. Tom Duncan was the target, yet he proved more cunning than anticipated - going out a side door from lectures. To prevent the humiliation of terrible, terrible failure, to his door I travel. I lurk. And lurk. The kitchen door opens - I raise my gun - an innocent flees. Another assassin turns up to lurk also - but Tom will be mine. Patience is rewarded with the pitter patter of feet up stairs - a shot to the chest and he is no more...
At about 12:40 I was on my way back to my room when an assassin by the name of A kill a day keeps the chief of police away jumped out of my corridor and shot me in the chest with a RBG, and proceeded to happily chat with my corpse.
Today at around 12:15 I went to this guy's flat, Tom Duncan was his name, to lie in wait for him to make a mistake, because everybody's got to eat sometime. However, when I arrived there was already an armed individual there, on the case. Rather than blow his cover, I left the scene, I don't want to be the one blamed when his carefully thought out plan failed, and I knew it would because the way he stood just screamed amatuer, but I was tired of all this beurocracy putting redundant extra people onto one job. I'd take it up with the boss later, see what he could do. Dejected, I left to go seek out some other nuance of paperwork I just knew would be waiting for me by the time I got back to HQ, another bogus day in the life.
Tried to kill Tom Duncan, but after hanging around outside his room for a while to see if he'd turn up, I noticed another assassin (wasn't him) making their way up the stairs. Time to run away, thinks I.
Together with Silverdevilboy tried to find The Carpenter and after successfully infiltrating his compound found him to be not in his room. Then attempts to reach [UNSPECIFIED BUILDING] and thus Heydar the Great and I don't understand what a 'pseudonym' is were trumpted by a sudden iron gate....
Murdoc visited [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] to kill some incompetents by the names of Albino, Toast Boy and Tsandys. None of them would open their door.
Like a virgin - touched for the very first time.. My bubble gun told Aaron that some of us may be too soft for this rough world out there. Now, he understands.
At 6pm I was busy working when a guy knocked on my door, opened it (I left it unlocked) and blasted me with furious bubbles of death. Game Over.
Captain Charlie was roused from his afternoon slumber by a resounding thud against his windowpane. Yet again his dim-witted owl, a fine specimen of the tawny variety going by the name of O'Reilly, had clearly taken a few too many swigs from its wingflask.
Perusing the attached Inco List correspondence, Charlie eyed a certain "The Carpenter" of room [MESSAGE REDACTED] in [MESSAGE REDACTED] accommodation block at [MESSAGE REDACTED] college.
Riding his reserve broomstick, a sturdy bi-wheeled aluminium/stainless steel chassis construct with a pair of rubber handlebars, commonly known as a MicroScooter, Charlie faded into the darkness and approached the insufferable incomptent's residence.
With the hour sitting at around a quarter to six, and judging his target's corridor to be potentially mafia-la- ... oh no wait, that's right, there are no mafias in Cambridge, but there were certainly high chance of innocents to be caught in crossfire... Charlie opted to try and snipe his foe by the building exit as the undergraduates drifted for evening meal, or at the least wait for a less innocent-laden corridor to do his business in.
Among one set of freshers departing the building, one member seemed to audibly refer to Charlie in the third person... "I reckon he's an assassin, that just doesn't know you're already dead." Knowing a corridor-mate of his target for the evening had been dispatched by a certain "Nie" on Sunday evening, Charlie remained sceptical of such revelations. Pressing on in, he tried The Carpenter's room, found it locked and seemingly unoccupied. Departed [MESSAGE REDACTED] accommodation block around 18:05.
Having extended his tendrils in the distant past, the inner machinations of [MESSAGE REDACTED] college were not unknown to him. A second stakeout was chosen, a short distance from the vomitorium of aforementioned college's dining hall. Arriving 18:45 just before the main outflow of gorged diners, Charlie readied his knief, bearing the enscription "I Just Lost The Game". Seeing one fellow pass by, several points of the checklist flared off. [UNSPECIFIED COLOUR] hair, a certain red t-shirt Charlie had spied one chap wearing whilst leaving [MESSAGE REDACTED] court, but hesitation to engage the target set in as he noticed a striking difference in hair length magnitude. While the image previously shown of the target seemed to imply more of a [UNSPECIFIED] haircut, Charlie found himself staring at a rather [UNSPECIFIED]-bearing civilian. A derailment to his train of thought on his plan of action came when he found himself ambushed into small talk by some other randomer of [MESSAGE REDACTED] college, while it seemed his potential target and his chums faded into the blackness.
Far to go, and far to go,
'Cross lands ornate with fog and snow
I went to knife a dangerous man:
he lives in cambridge, that I know.
I checked my hands: they'd deal the blow,
but looked too small for plans so grand
and sinful as mine were, although
I hope you'll understand.
My coat, my knife, my target sheet,
through fog and hail and rain and sleet
I go, and all the while I wonder
what will happen when we meet?
Now, should I lurk, my time to squander,
Let my body drain of heat?
Or do the deed at speed, I ponder,
and stab him in the street?
I pick the latter, on a whim.
"I'll knife him as he strides the path!
His end is nigh, his fate is grim,
I'd hate to see the aftermath!
And when I've finally dealt with him
I'll head back home, a nice hot bath
will warm my every limb!"
Seconds, minutes, hours pass,
and, seated there upon the grass
my mind begins to speculate:
"I wonder, is he still in class?
Should I return at half past eight?
Or has he seen me lying in wait
and found some way to quickly pass?"
I'm conscious I must look a state.
The sodden ground, at any rate,
is freezing on my arse.
Finally, I can take no more.
My body cannot stand the chill.
With one last glance toward his door
I set off eastwards down the hill
In search of warmth and food galore
And other people's guts to spill!
My knife has missed its fill of gore...
but I'll be back to make my kill!
Oh it's a pity you......AWOKE. What? Oh, someone was calling me to wake ache up stand up crackling joints setting skeletal rhythm. Dance skeleton fever halloween all over again. Time to clear off from this haven 1 tremulous soprano 2 crystal waterfall 3 incongruous grim auror attendant - EH! A summons .well, duty calls. Unsuitably siesta'd he waltzed over to the dishevelled messenger. Good day. You have the subordinates on hand. X, Y and the compulsory Al? Yessir. DR. TALOS!! IT'S INCO HUNTING TIME AGAIN!!!11111111 To the wilderness boy wonder! A dangerous place, safety foregone, the inco monsters spring up shot down spring up ever never ending, the background TUUUUUUUUM of bombshells curse the muggles and their war.
ak ak kr krr KrrAKK! Gunfire again again it wouldn't leave him be. The muggles had finally cottoned on to the wizarding war and insisted (oh no, really, I insist) on eradicating wizarding kind. Zang ZANG TUUUUMM. The bugs he'd squashed into the fibres of his jacket were creeping out; damned things never stay still for long. He'd have to dye it the normal way, consequences be damned. Coughing cthuhlu cthuhlu berkinstall. Get this radio working. Responds to magic by breaking every time. Whhrrrrrr brrrrr distinctive somerset accent - ahh here it is. Tuned. Wavering, the frequency fwoooshing up and swoooshing down but intelligible nonetheless. A drawn out 'Doccttttooor' noise paid homage to his ear followed closely by 'we need......couldn't stop.......undead charioteer......gurgle gurgle splat". Ahh it seemed my client needed resurrecting again. Fiddlesticks. Most annoying, all these necromantic sacrifices were just burning through my fiddlesticks. Must stock up .next fiddle shop 10 miles downstream. Time to move on? I can't dandy about all day when these monsters all need new haircuts.
The TUUUUUUUMM of bomb shells weren't enough to.......concentrate, to.......dammit got to wake ache up my god body isn't what it used to be, seven seventy firebirds screaming down my neck and it's not enough. Find the inco monster seven headed jaws like Jaws it was all a guy could do to cope. Take them down one at a time. The clunking draws itself nearer to a halt. So there I found myself in building half caved in from mugglific fighting - what's that coming over the hill? is it a MONSTER! It is! it is! It's an inco monster. Let loose bone-breaker curses left right dead centre pacpac PAM and it's down blood mist everywhere marionette relinquished to entropy, give up the ghost, you have no choice.
After going inco yesterday I was paranoid. Unfortunately not paranoid enough to remember to lock my door whilst on the phone! In comes the Chief of Police who quickly dispatched me for my laziness!
I went out with another group of willing accomplices and attempted to murder the following: - Nikolay (we hung around for quite a long time, but he wasn't in) - I don't understand what a 'pseudonym' is (the building, [UNSPECIFIED], was too secure to get into and, although we waited, noone came along to let us in nor out) - Rabbit Master (was in, but suspected that we were assassins and tried to sneak round the side of his house to take a look at us. - Paul Jefferson (although he opened the door to us, he explained that he was just a walking corpse. I didn't bother mutilating his dead body as I was the third attempt on his life (death?) that night).
An attempt was made on my life at 8'oclock wednesday evening my two unknown assasains. With an incredably flimsy excuse they asked me to come outside. I knew I had to be leaving in 30 min and was not ready, and I could have just left them outside. However I descided to go on the offensive. I went downstairs reasonably well armed, but left my the side door hoping to sneak around them. Unfortunately I was spotted as I started to move. As there were more of them and I didn't know how well they were armed. I causiusly hid in an ingeniuos hiding place. They came round the corner to get me to find me disapeared. Just as I was about to get a clear shot from my hiding place they went back round to the front. I then ran around the entire house to approach them from the road, hoping to appear as a passer-by as they had not yet seen my face. However in the time it took me to encirle them, they had already left, presumably on bikes.
YAYS!
Redeeming doublekill!
Today at 8pm I skillfully infiltrated Homerton. SO skillfully, in fact, that I entered Dan Lucas's empty room, waited for his return, and was then invited to play Halo. He killed me many times. I killed him once. My one counted.
Henry Staples was a more painless death. Opening his door to a knocking I leant round and got a couple more headshots. He was very charming and showed me his mini firing range. Then expressing anger at his friends in the kitchen not warning him we were there, I lent him use of my big water gun for revenge. He didnt quite realise how powerful it was. Much lol occurred.
There was then an EPIC shootout with The Purge in a lift. No one was harmed.
BOBO the...something came to my room with a friend. I was eating my dinner. Got up, opened the door thinking it was one of my neighbours. Before I knew what was going on I was all wet in the face.
After an uncertain start to the festivities I am at last able to report an undertaking into the world of near-death experiences. I paid The Subtle Trout a visit at his [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] abode this evening, barely past 20:00. Sadly there was no response to the supple, sensual motions with which i carressed his door handle, nor did he scream when the wood was banged hard with my fist. I shall be sure to visit that door once more, and relive some happy memories.
Just narrowly avoided death again, although my left arm will have some nasty scars after it was shot twice. An assassin knocked on my door this evening - I left it a minute and then opened the door, gun in hand. Someone jumped out from around the corner, and we both fired our weapons at the same time. Two rubber bands hit my left arm, my shot missed completely. I decided a tactical retreat was in order, so dashed back inside my room and locked the door.
Knocked on the inco Cataclysm's door. Heard movement about inside and after a short while in which I thought about giving up, he opened his door. I swung round the corner and loosed a couple of rubber bands at him hitting him in the arm, and he apparantly fired something at me, but I dont beleive I was hit, and the missile itself seemed to vanish. In the end we concluded that neither of us was dead.
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