The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 News

Noting my recent incompetence, I decided to go out and do a little hunting, in order to remove it. So I walked off to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE], where I tried to visit The Umpire, but The Umpire was out. I then went to visit you are now breathing manually, who also seemed to be out. I lurked in his staircase and somewhere with a convenient view of his windows from 1520-1535 or so, and left when people started to arrive. I tried to visit The Umpire again, but The Umpire was still out, so I left. I then went to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE ACCOMMODATION], where the main gate was locked. Undeterred, I hung around just out of sight, and walked through it when someone carelessly left it open. I then ventured to the flat of I don't understand what a 'pseudonym' is, but his outside door was locked. So I went to find Heydar the Great, whose outside door was also locked. I waited there for a few minutes, but the person who came out correctly identified me as not being a resident there, so I decided to leave.

As Franz Ferdinand was walking towards Magdalene Bridge, he spotted the incompetent Jeremy Kneebone talking to the very man who ended his former assassin life so suddenly, David Clarke. Overcome by rage at seeing his assailant and an incompetent in one place, he took out his trusty knife and slaughtered the inco. His sanity restored, Franz Ferdinand wished the corpse a pleasant evening and continued on his journey.

Police Report number 204382. Another busy day on the beat; after espying a suspicious character cycling away from a known shady character's house in a beret, I checked out the place. Not a bad abode for such a wrongdoer... clearly crime does pay in these parts. I then wandered over to a tenement filled with depravity, yet none of the perilous individuals within emerged. However, I can attest to their cooking prowess and their whistling skills, and observed them from afar. Nothing to warrant a search... yet.

St. Mungo's is for friggin' chumps. They'd stuck me in there for the past week stating that my uncontrollable giggling was a symptom of something greater. Pffft, pshaw. Anywho some hot Insanity Ward nurses spent their time mercilessly healing me all night long during my stay. I figured by now I was pretty much 'cured' so I'd broken out of the hospital after a quick detour to raid the super-funtastic happy magic cupboard. Those chumpettes had left the door unlocked. Muahaha.

So, Dr. Talos had been cunningly distracted from his task by hang-gliding mice and bombshells, but not anymore. It was time to get serious; to break out the Rambo style. Dr. Talos had extracted information from the hang-gliding mice on the location of the leader of the socknappers and thus he found himself here outside their secret underground volcano lair in Nicaragua, the habitual location for final showdown scenes throughout history. The first thing that hit him when he'd apparated here was the curious resemblance the volcano had to a crocodile. The second thing that hit him was a clump of 10 bananas. "Grrrr, damned antisocial apes! Always leaving their junk floating around in the air". He plucked the bananas out of the ether anyway figuring they might come in handy.

The jungle crept up the base of the volcano on all sides (of a perfect circle aha). Dr. Talos pondered wonderously the best method of attack. "Catchoo!" he snoughed. "Must be allergic to these trees, damned freaky green things," he said in a nasal voice through the pair of wands he'd stuck up his nostrils for safe keeping. A nearby monkey, wearing a red cap, looked at him disapprovingly as if it had much more important things to do than put up with some wizarding fool. It was cartwheeling off towards the volcano when Dr. Talos' "Imperius" hit the monkey's back. "That'll teach you not to say bless you". Dr. Talos figured the monkey might be useful as a scout, so he compelled the monkey to enter the lair and gather as much information as it could before returning.

In the meanwhile Dr. Talos went a'tripping through the rainforest looking for the magical fish who could wish. This proved a more difficult task than expected. Possibly all these feesh he found in the bromeliads were able to wish and have those wishes successfully granted, but their wish outcomes were not significantly different to events normally occurring in fish life. Hmmph how to determine the wishing behaviour of feesh........Whilst pondering this vexing eternal problem he bumped into Franz Ferdinand who happened to be on her holidays in Nicaragua, partaking in her hobby of categorising the world's dormant volcanoes by likelihood of being mistaken for a lampshade. Overall there was a surprising lack of lampshade like volcanoes, but she reasoned if she characterised enough she might find one with the exact characteristics of a lampshade.

The imperiused ape came bounding back down from the volcano screaming like an ape "OOoo oo aah ahh eeeek". Dr. Talos crouched down thoughtfully "twelve guards you say?" "No problemo. We'll head up there straight away". Oh yeah and you don't need to be imperiused anymore, but thanks for the help. Dr. Talos flicked his wand, lifting the curse, and the monkey ran off eeeeeeking into the distance.

Dr. Talos and Franz Ferdinand snuck up the side of the volcano, keeping out of site of the one visible guard patrolling this entrance. Dr. Talos disillusioned himself before walking up closer. "Bib-ek Muk-her-jee" he slowly enunciated, reading the name from the nametag that also held the words - 'super evil villain lackey'. "Drop your wand". Mukherjee dropped his wand, fearful of the disembodied voice's command. Dr. Talos then clonked him on the head with an empty bottle of Merlot. "Off to Azkaban with you, foul fiend".

Franz Ferdinand apparated the lackey away to Azkaban and Dr. Talos was left to enter the lair. He held his wand held out ahead of himself, poised in duelling catfish stance. The most dangerous of all the mammalian fish, more fearsome than the foxfish, more ferocious than the ferretfish, and with a longer shelf life than the sheepfish. Ahead of him in a perspex-bound arena he could overhear the end of a conversation between a robed wizard and someone obscured by the ledge. He crouched down so he couldn't be seen and paid attention.

"......send him to collect the last potion ingredients. We're almost ready for the spell......oh and one other thing - don't screw up this time, Evans." The unseen talker ordered. "Now I must go and prepare."

Dr. Talos drew in a sharp breath as he saw Evans appear and walk off to the opposite exit of the arena. All the information Dr. Talos had collected pointed towards Evans being the mastermind behind the socknapping project, yet here he was being ordered around by some mysterious dude. 'What the hell was going on?'

Dr. Talos moved towards where the conversation had been held, noting with worry that only one pair of footprints marked the sand in the conversation site. He hurried off in the direction Evans had disappeared to, hoping that he might lead him to where the socks were being held captive.

Entering the next hall carved out of the volcano, Dr. Talos caught sight of Evans feeding some moths to a group of near starved socks through the bars of a magic-nullifying cage. 'Finally! He'd found them! The stolen rulers of sockdom were all accumulated here, locked in that go-go cage. Talos dreaded to think what mistreatment they had been subjected to; probably been forced to dance away the nights. They'd be furious when they were finally let out. He'd have to scamper away sharpish so he didn't get caught in the crossfire. Socks were rarely angered, but when they were they killed indiscriminately, just for kicks and candlesticks. Now to get rid of Evans. He needed a plan; Evans would be able to magically detect his presence if he moved within spell distance. Feeling peckish, Dr. Talos summoned a triple scoop petroleum flavoured ice cream and proceeded to eat it while evaluating the situation. No point going into battle on an empty stomach.

Bah, he'd just have to risk a direct duel, there wasn't time to faff around in contemplation, some of those socks looked downright threadbare. Dr. Talos ran out from his hiding place, a wand in one hand, and a half-eaten ice cream in the other. Evans span around as his proximity charm detected an intruder close to breaking into spell range. Dr.Talos and the socknapper fought a frenetic battle, curses turning the air blue, until an interloper ran into the expanse, towards the side of Evans. This distracted Dr. Talos sufficiently to allow Evans to blast Talos' ice cream away into oblivion.

"NOOOOOOOOOOooooooo" screamed Dr. Talos, his heart rent forever asunder by the loss of his sacred foodstuff. In such a rage was he, that he cursed the innocent interloper stone dead, before a shockwave of energy turned Evans into a handful of dust, breezing through the air conditioning units. 'blergh, better not breath that in' he muttered dejectedly, still heartbroken. He slumped to the floor, his breath ragged with exhaustion.

"Good evening, Dr. Talos. I haff been expecting you" the bluntly authoritative tones reached the doctor's ears and he raised his head. Ahead of him floated a sock surrounded in a darkly swirling aura.

"Who are you? And how the Ferranian drizzle do you know my name?" Dr Talos asked apprehensively.

The sock chuckled coldly to this, "My name ist Osck. The King of all socks. And you, my dear friend, could not haff seriously expected your actions to go unnoticed, no?"

"What do you mean the King of Socks? I thought socks refused absolute rule. I mean yes, there are those socks with more influence and magic than others, but I've never heard of a King..........."

"Well Dr. Talos. It is a fairly recent title; in fact you could say it hast just been instated in ziss past month. Those powerful socks that vound their vay here were so very gracious for the shelter that I provided them, zat they each decided to bestow upon me both their magic and that title. I must say I vas most pleasantly surprised."

"Tchah, yeah, and how exactly did you torture them to make them do that". Dr. Talos realised that this whole business had been orchestrated by this power-crazy sock, betraying his own kind and attempting to enslave humanity via his rule over sockdom. What a twist, who'd have thought a sock would be the real culprit.........cough cough splutter meh.

"Let's just say I made them an offer they could not refuse." A series of pops nearby indicated the arrival of a retinue of guards.

Osck motioned to the guards to grab me. I was tired, so tired. Not enough left to fight and within seconds I found myself held captive, surrounded by the human guards.

"Feed him to zee hungry hungry hippos." Osck ordered the guards. He turned his head away as if the sight of me being fed to hungry hungry hippos was too much for him.

"Oh fukzor" I groaned. This mission had gone totally avocado-shaped, right from day one and now here I was, about to be thrown into a tank to an agonisingly unstylish death. I always thought I was gonna swing out to a hero's death, and have my funeral filled with other people's lamenting wives. Bugger.

Suddenly a commotion upstairs made me raise my head as if a distant hope still remained........"It's probably just a stray wilderbeast migration......" I thought. Then low and behold an ape with a red tie came bounding down the stairs chucking barrels at the guards and being generally unruly and loutish. He'd knocked over three.......four......five of the guards! There was just the King of Socks left standing!

"Oh you blasted ape" The sock screeched, "why can't you get it into your head that we needed your bananas for feeding the garrison." A powerful surge of magic from the sock sent the ape sprawling, his limbs a'spasm Gah, I couldn't do any magic tied up like, but maybe, just maybe I could reach the cluster of bananas I'd put in my coat pocket. It seemed that the monkey I had imperiused earlier had gone to get backup. Dipping my head into the pocket I grasped the bananas by my teeth and flung them over to the ape. "Eat them!" I screamed.

The ape slowly crawled over to the bananas and scoffed them down. Suddenly he was revitalised, as if he'd gained another life or something and with a hurl of a barrel he knocked the sock back off the ledge and into the fiery depths of the volcano.

"Oook Oook Oook" he oooked. But I knew he really meant, "How do you like them bananas?"



Moral of the story: NEVER steal an ape's bananas. Furthermore, evil masterminds can't stop the awesomeness of Deus Ex Machina events. Furtherfurthermore, never trust a sock.

Date: 2009-11-23 1200

Location: The stairs outside an unspecified subject lecture theatre.

Present: Police officer Timothy Kew, incompetent police officer Daniel Baker, a couple innocents.

Events: While in lectures, I happened to notice one Daniel Baker, who was bringing shame to the force by his incompetence. As we left, I stepped up behind him, carrying my cosh loosely in one hand. He cleared the door, and I struck. A single cosh blow to the head stunned him, and a bang-kill to the chest finished him off. At this point, a bystander commented on the lack of violence, so I mutilated his corpse a bit (with permission).

The honour of the force has been slightly restored.

Tim

I made a rainy trip up to the room of the incompetent policeman Michael Darling, who kindly opened his door for me, so I reprimanded him with a rubber band for not being dangerous enough.

At a time round about 10am, a certain Philip Hubbard emerged from his lecture room. Paranoid as he was, he was careful to check both ways in the corridor before emerging for the hundred-yard dash to his practical room. Unbenknownst to him, his would-be assassin was in fact behind him, emerging from exactly the same lecture.

A single stab of a knife was all that it took to dispatch this dear [UNSPECIFIED SUBJECT].

(i.e., he's dead by my newly-inducted hand).

Long arm of the law is long...

Damned boy, blasted my arm while my wand was still undrawn! That'll take a while to heal; still, I hear my friend dealt with him. I'll see him expelled if it's the last thing I do. The Dark Lord will be keen to hear about this...

As he was visiting a friend of his at his imperial residence, Franz Ferdinand spotted the dangerous ruffian Unknown standing outside the door with his most incompetent companion Alefiyah Jafferji. Needless to say, action had to be taken. Brook, who was just emerging from the front garden, was met by gunfire to the chest. Unfortunately, this did not kill him, as he was actually already a corpse. This left the incompetent to be dealt with. As the wanted corpse informed her of the fact that he had just been shot again, Franz Ferdinand simply sauntered up to her and shot her in the chest with his trusty water pistol- a quick, appropriate end to her life.

It was 8.45pm. Myself and a fellow PC (Severus Snipe) proceed, on our evening rounds, to the lodgings of a certain Mr. Hardman. He is in, but the door is locked. A short lurk, in case the target should emerge, is uneventful. Returning 30 minutes later, armed with icing sugar and chocolate - success! The door is open, the room unlocked...and a trap set, an assassin waiting. All in vain for him, alas. The clever stunning safe trap misses, the electric fence buzzes to a stop. Two elastic bands in the chest, and it matters not that his dagger is headed for my heart. A further three bands from my dear companion (whose aim has always beaten mine) ensure this Inco will be Inco no more, on account of being very, very dead.

I hope I will not be kritiqued too harshly for this, but as it was a kritical kill and rather touche (sans diakritic), this sekrit murder felt rather like it fitted the kriteria for a few puns...

At 7:50 this evening, a rather good natured police officer came knocking on my door. My days as an incompetent must have taken away my edge, because when he knocked I did not check the door, but instead simply told the would-be-killer to enter. Luckily, his aim was much worse than his disposition, and he only struck my right thumb with his rubber-band gun. The shock of losing my appendage gave me a moments pause, in which he declared his victory, foolishly assuming me to be dead. Regaining my wits, I took advantage of his excitement and stabbed him in the chest with my good hand. As he lay dieing, he looked up at my and whispered something that I could not here. I leaned closer and he said, "Would you like a sweet?" With the last of his strength he produced a bag of sweets and seeing as it was the courteous thing to do, I took one. Then he died.

Knives was all too welcoming to policemen for an incompetent, and found himself on the wrong end of a rubber band gun. But once the initial confusion faded, it transpired that only his hand had been hit, which unfortunately wasn't enough hands to prevent him reaching for a knife and stabbing me.