The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 NewsAnd so it begins, the game has 5 million players but only 1 can be winner.
For surviving this far, your Umpire awards you with a picture of a kitten who will be watching intently the chaos that is about to ensue:
ALBERT.
"Yes Master?"
HAVE YOU BEEN INTO THE LIFE-TURNERS
ROOM RECENTLY, ALBERT?
"Ah, er, yes Master. I, err, you see, may have
accidentally knocked a certain Pills_Here's life-turner whilst I
was in there, Master."
I THOUGHT SO ALBERT. IT WOULD EXPLAIN WHY I
ARRIVED AT HIM THIS MORNING, ONLY TO FIND HIM QUITE ALIVE AND WELL. IT WAS
MOST DISTURBING.
"Yes, well, sorry Master."
NOT TO WORRY.
IT WAS ONLY A MOMENT'S CONFUSION. INDEED, I SUSPECT THAT HE DOES NOT HAVE
LONG TO LIVE ANYWAY. IT IS THE WAY OF THESE THINGS.
Vlad goes marauding and brutally slaughters Raindial and Crazy Little Thing Called Death.
At the crack of dawn i rose with the sun, bloodthirsty from a night spent
plotting.
By horseback i rode towards three impenetrable fortresses, the first still
remained closed to all those unknown by the guards, facing the option to
scale the walls or to return at a more leisurely hour, I hastened towards my
second target. As with the first, the castle had no weak spots, my skeleton
key miserable failing to open anything!
Hope returned when i found that the third fortress had foolishly left it
doors open wide. I cautiously entered, unnoticed by all and made my way to
the tower in which my target dwelled. Eventually i managed to convince a
guard to open the tower door and i gleefully raced towards my destination.
Once more was i rebuked, my target had expected my presence and refused to
answer his door, i spent an hour lurking only to face an unopened door.
I ventured back to my earlier targets and found myself in luck! The Gates of
both fortresses were down! Which to strike first? In a spur of the moment
decision i travelled towards the room of Crazy Little Thing Called Death upon which i knocked and was
soon repayed with the sleepy face of my target. Metal tore through his
flimsy body, in a flash he was dead and his body breathed its last. He crashed to the floor, his body torn and twisted.
The red mist then set in, at the second fortress i discovered that i had
briefly missed Raindial, I raced to his lecture halls and he walked to his
doom. Although i had but a flimsy idea of his appearance, when a suspicious
looking individual strode near the lecture theatre i asked if he knew Raindial from (unspecified college). Fear gripped his visage, he realised his time
was nigh and began to spin away from me. The action was one of cowardice,
true men should bow to death, yet his naivety pressed me to spare him the
shame of a shot in the back. I snatched my weapon and a hail of bullets
smashed through his lungs, as he lay gasping he marvelled that i had found
him. The response was an easy truth.
I always get my man.
Most strategies, however ingenious they might be, fail whenever something
unexpected or improbable happens. The same cannot be said for Random
Strategy. Indeed, unlike other strategies, Random Strategy only works when
something improbable or unexpected happens. And something improbable did
happen.
It just so happened by coincidence that a certain A jam sandwich (who was a
target of Random Strategy) went to the same lecture as Random Strategy.
Now, he could have sat anywhere, but because this being Random Strategy
we're dealing with, he happened to choose a seat 2 spaces away from Random
Strategy, who quickly identified him but made no action.
Once the lecture was over, Random Strategy attempted to follow A jam sandwich
but he managed to escape into the crowd, much to Random Strategy's
disappointment. However, in the next lecture, Random Strategy was careful
to choose a seat which allowed him to get out of the lecture theatre
quicker. At the end of it, he timed his departure so that A jam sandwich was
right behind him. Once out of the lecture, Random Strategy turned around
and stabbed him in the heart with a dagger.
Tom Durrant goes wanted for stabbing a player who had since concealed their weapon.
Please remember:
"Players who were previously holding weapons but have since concealed them are not licit targets."
"A flash of knife blades
Three assassins become one
The game is afoot."
Haiku
Working studiously in my room my senses suddenly fluttered. Someone was at my door. Slowly, ever so slowly, the door, left unlocked, began to widen. Slowly, ever so slowly, I lifted myself away from my desk and snuck to the wall. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tip of a person's head lifted around the edge of the door.
Fast as a reasonably fast person, I drew my gun and shot, a perfect headshot, in the middle of the forehead. The head withdrew, with a yell, and I sighed in relief. Recollecting myself and stepping forward to observe the carcass, I wondered who was so eager to come try to assassinate my on the first day of the game. It was only as I rolled the prostrate body over that I recognised what remained of that once beautiful face, now bloody and mangled.
It was only then, I realised I had killed my friend.
For shooting a non-player, Christopher Arran will be placed on the wanted list for not less than three days, and until he kills one licit target. Please don't shoot non-players, or else.
Whilst having a casual conversation with a friend a rather aggressive
individual took it upon themself to burst into my room wielding a knife.
I took aim with my trusty shotgun but due to insurmountable range of
approx 2 feet I was unable to hit.
As they fled down the stairs I took another shot, managing to land a
non-fatal blow to the shoulder. I then realised the weakness of having
a gun with only two bullets in. The intruder fled.
I look forward to shooting at you again.
Eager to start the term off with some killing, I stole into [college redacted] as night fell to seek Conan. I located their room and, certain of the knowledge that they must leave their room to eat, secreted myself behind a corner out of sight to wait...and wait...and wait.
20 minutes later, after everyone else on the floor had left their rooms one by one (requiring cunning evasion), I realised that perhaps my initial assumption was wrong. Perhaps Conan photosynthesised. Unfortunately, after knocking on their door a few times failed to rouse them from their energy transducing trance, I fled, fearful of such an opponent as would not answer their door. Or was out.
I received a knocking on my door from a member of my house
This was strange, so I went quiet as mouse
Cautiously I did reply to see, how she'd reply
The excuse was strangely lacking, I thought It was a lie.
I left via another exit, to avoid the attack
And to see if when leaving they would expose their back
A man approached me swiftly, paper weapon in his hand
But before it bang kill distance, I'd sent a rubber band
Into his chest, then contemplating his end
I was rather surprised by the intervention of his friend
I also met my doom, it was my dying day
Though partly I am glad, in a rather odd way
For it is my final year, and I kind of have to work.
Not spend my time in corridors having to sneak and lurk
I'm glad I played assassins, it was a lot of fun
Though I really now regret not unpacking my larger gun.
I killed an unknown assassin
I was killed by an unknown assassin
Chris- An Innocent Rabbit
At around 20:30 on the 26/01 I and my friend Crazy Little Thing Called Death went on a hunt for some of our targets. Our first stop was at Chocolate Biscuit's where here genius entrenchment in her room caused a short siege and waterfight that ended in a stalemate and us leaving... for now. Our next stop at Chris Dobson's discovered the foul art of necromancy and although Crazy Little Thing Called Death stabbed the corpse just to make sure, he did inform us that he was already dead. Our third target, Girton Landeconomist, wasn't in, but his friends were out in force in the corridor and we quickly fled before they could contact him. Our final visit was to The Procrastinator but it turns out (Unspecified college) is a ****ing fortress and impossible to find anyone's room in. Never mind. We'll be back.
The Umpire notes that the rules state that dead players "should refrain from bearing weapons, from announcing the fact that you are dead unless directly questioned face-to-face and from directly involving yourself in any Assassins activity".
No further action will be taken in this instance, but you have now been warned...
An unknown student came knocking on my door not more than five minutes ago.
Perhaps he wanted a Chocolate Biscuit? Tis more than likely that he did as
he came armed and prepared to take a Chocolate Biscuit by force.
Fortunately there are no Biscuit crumbs in my room as the Chocolate Biscuit
remains whole. Unfortunately, so too does the hungry student.
For too many years have those spinèd abominations walked the Earth, and swam
the ocean deep. They defiled our lands, forced us into extinction and niche
environs, grew too large and powerful. Well, that is soon to end. And I shall
be its unmaking.
This is the first report of Captain Cephalopod, operational commander of the
mighty Invertebrate Army. My task is simple: the extermination of those filthy,
stinking phosphatised abominations that walk the land on their infernal
endoskeletons. Our vengeance shall be swift, and it starts this day. The first
target, one The Evil Emperor Zurg. Of his prowess, great things are spoken - but we come
from the shadowy depths, and strike with haste and fervour.
A first attempt - thwarted - the fiend was away on training, and left his
defences in good order. No matter. We have waited millennia for this moment;
another few hours can be endured. The return visit and success! - the target
has returned, and been lax about his doorkeeping. Summoning all my knowledge of
stealth and subtlety, I burst in on the villainous vertebrate and - joy of
joys! - he is communicating with his commanding officer by some dark magic or
other. How satisfying that the first chordate's cadaverisation should be
witnessed by their overlord. The thus imparted lack of secrecy of course led to
my hasty withdrawal, but nevertheless, our return has begun.
Strange Quark has died of Lupus. It was the rare and unusual knife in
the abdomen presentation. Time of death was approx 11:30 at his birthday
party. Gutting for him.
Lupus
At a birthday party- got stabbed by Lupus. Traitor.
Vlad gets his man.
This very morning I awoke in a cold sweat, compelled by a burning desire to
extinguish the villainous individual, Professor Layton.
For the third time I rode out to his fortess, through the open gate and past
the guards arriving at 8:30. I aimed to catch my prey as he left his tower
as he had lectures at 9. Due to his general sneakyness and villainy nature,
I thought it best not to confront him within his tower as his servants
recognized me from the previous day and were certain to once more alert him
to my presence.
The morning air was as cold as the heart of the devil I sought to destroy.
As time passed without so much as glimpse of my target I was left with no
choice but to enter his hiding place. After I snuck inside I heard footsteps
so darted behind a door, to my luck the source of the noise was indeed andy,
as he passed infront of me I called out his name. He turned surprised at
the sight of me, yet resigned to death.
"make it quick"
Unleashing my pent up rage he was swiftly dispatched.
A servant woman looked on in horror as I strode over his corpse to the
doorway, why she was distressed I know not. An honorable death by the hand
of a worthy foe is more than most can wish for.
Three down, how many more to go?
27 January, 1330 hours
CHAPTER ONE: In which nothing happens, but very wordily
It had been more than 24 hours since I took up the mantle of Cantabrigian
assassin; more than 24 hours since I had started glancing suspiciously at
every passerby with their hands in their pockets (a pretty tiring task, in
the middle of winter), one hand always on the hilt of my trusty retractable
umbrella-sword; more than 24 hours since I had taken to stalking the
streets with wary alertness.
Or, as it so happened, staying in my room and feverishly reading with wary
alertness. But no more! No longer was I content to simply wait, in the hope
that some assassin worthy of the appellation would be bloody, bold and
resolute enough to make it through the multifarious defences of my lair.
No -- instead, I went for a walk.
My intel had revealed that a certain Girton Landeconomist was part of an obscure
academic sect known as the Common (Unspecified Subject). A gathering of these
nefarious sorts was scheduled for 1400 hours in a sleek modern building,
but I reached there early; too early. Though I had some notion of my
target's appearance, the large milling crowd made me nervous.
That, and I was bored. So after scoping out the area, I decided to take a
more direct approach, and headed off to the grim courts of my target's
college.
It was his compatriot I was after, this time: one Trillian. I braved
the labyrinthine layout of his building and the puzzled stares of bedders,
climbing flight after flight of stairs -- until, at last, I reached his
door. I leaned close; no sound emerged. I tried the door.
Locked! Unwilling to engage in the sort of amateur theatrics that might be
required to gain entry -- if Trillian was even there in the first place -- I
left the building, and went to run errands of a less sanguinary sort.
Some minutes past 1500 hours, I returned once more to the steel-and-glass
monstrosity where Girton Landeconomist should have been. Alas, my timing was off yet
again. Most of the slimy sect members had left; if Girton Landeconomist had been there
at all, he was certainly not there now.
Bereft of kills, I returned to my stronghold, and settled down to write an
unnecessarily long report on the day's fruitless activities. You're
welcome.
- Proper Noun
Upon my accomplises knocking on the door and cooing him out with sweet calls of friendship, from the sky came my plane, accurate and heart breaking. By request I played out his death with some greig before celebration with vanessa carltons '1000 miles'.
Killed by Haiku, who waited outside the bathroom for me to finish having me shower, and then stabbed me in my dressing gown! How embarrassing!
At around 9.20 pm I navigated the complex and shadowy path to the door of my target, one Jonathan Bootle. Hearing the sound of a shower running, I lurked around the landing until someone emerged from the showers, and, under the pretense of asking directions to another staircase, followed him to his room. As soon as the identity of my target was confirmed by his unlocking his door, I struck, stabbing him before slipping back into the darkness.
"Shower of water
Becomes a river of blood.
Nice dressing gown though."
Haiku
After the rapid extinguishment of three forlorn souls, I
thirsted for more of the sweet nectar coursing through the veins of my
victims. I journeyed into a quiet town, in which dwelled a sleepy inn. I
snuck inside an uninhabited room, and waited, silently for my next victim.
Two hours later a carefree traveller stumbled in.
I pounced.
Hot blood gushed from his gaping arteries. A tasty morsel was mine to have.
25th January 2011, 2300 hours: Receiving my first targets for this term's assassinations, I was unfortunate enough to have been set the near-herculean task of locating and confronting three targets, [descriptions redacted]. Nevertheless, one target, Torquemada, struck me as manageable, and I embarked upon an investigation ever-so-slightly more complex than any Sherlock Holmes ever even dreamed of.
27th January 2011, 0000 hours: Facebook was first. Knowing several members of Torquemada's college, it was clear I could infiltrate and gain access to their whereabouts. Not only was I able to find out their course, but their year group, their lecture timetable - even their college family members. I knew what I had to do.
I performed a reconnaissance mission to Torquemada' location on the 26th January, locating their probable entrance and exit points, scouting the surrounding area, judging the time it would take me from a lecture to reach them. I was in luck; it was only a five minute walk.
28th January 2011, 0800 hours: Investigating my weaponry, I was dismayed to find that its battery-powered nature had since the end of Michaelmas unfortunately drained all power, the result of which its ammunition fell quite pathetically to the floor in front of me, as opposed to its usual 20 meter range. I had no choice. After [event redacted] I made a quick foray to my local arms dealer, and bought myself a gun of such caliber that a point blank shot would surely extinguish any signs of life. I thanked the greengrocer and left for my lectures.
28th January 2011, 1252 hours: Serendipitously, my lecture ended at roughly 12:52, giving me a full 8 minutes to walk to their location. Knowing that their lecture finished at 1pm or thereabouts, and that they would, most likely, be heading to their college's hall for lunch, I waited. I knew what I was looking for. They were a [description redacted] - and, lo and behold, a person fitting that description emerged from their college's hall at approximately 1312 hours. However, I had to be sure it was them.
Watching them leave the front of their college, they went to buy themselves what I guess was a sausage roll or baguette from the small bakery across the road. Always keeping an eye on his college's hall and the bakery (both of which I could see from my vantage point) I frantically attempted to access facebook on my blackberry to make sure my stalkee was who I thought they were. Disaster! No wifi access, apparently, where I was standing. I had no choice; I had to follow them to [description redacted] to make sure.
Watching them leave the bakery, I followed. They did indeed appear as if they were to return to [description redacted] - but no. My target was devious. They looked towards the door, and turned away. There was an unknown back entrance, which my precautionary sweep of the immediate surroundings had failed to record. They made a beeline for it, and the stopped for a moment. I was right - it was definitely them.
28th January 2011, 1318 hours (approx): It was then that I made my fatal, rookie error. I turned to them, and said their name in a questioning fashion. I knew before I had finished saying it, that it was undoubtedly the wrong thing to do, but it was too late. "Maybe," they said. I didn't need telling twice, and pulled my weapon from my coat pocket. "BANG!" I yelled, and I could've sworn I was within a meter of my target, but in an almost Keanu-Reevian display of twirling convolution, my target dodged the bullet as it whistled past what I can only assume was their left ear.
The chase was on. Unfamiliar with this part of town, my target was always going to have the advantage. I gave chase, but I was losing ground, and to my utter dismay, my blackberry jostled itself out of my coat pocket and fell to the floor underfoot. I stopped to retrieve it, screen quite severely scratched by the impact, and my target was gone.
They had led me into a concrete jungle of buildings, apartments, perhaps student accommodation - I knew not what, except that the exit would almost certainly be the way from which we had come. I climbed stairs to gain a more accurate view of the area, but they were nowhere to be seen. Dejectedly returning to ground level, I walked back the way I had come, only to find my target emerging from a nearby alcove. "If you're gonna use the bang-kill you have to be touching, I read it just a few days ago," they uttered. "Is this the discussion phase, then?" I said. "I suppose so" they replied. I knew they were going to claim I wasn't close enough to kill them. "You weren't close enough to kill me" they claimed, predictably. It's a sad fact, but I accepted that, for now, I had failed - [redacted]! I informed my target I knew where they would be at what times, and that they should be careful. I wished them luck, and made my exit.
28th January 2011, 1330 hours: Following their example, having missed my own college's lunch by now, I popped into that same bakery for a sausage roll. I consumed it whilst walking, and ate the edible parts of the attempted murder weapon to destroy any evidence of this shoddy attempt at a kill; the rest I disposed of in a nearby hedgerow; banana skin is icky.
The Umpire notes that Torquemada was indeed correct. The weapons rules state that you must be "pointing it at the head or torso of your target, which you can clearly see and are able to touch your target with your weapon".
Someone tried to assassinate me outside of my dwelling place today, while I was returning from a [UNSPECIFIED SNADWICH SHOP] for lunch. I was warned of their nefarious intentions by a poorly concealed banana and unprepared for battle, decided to flee. After a lengthy chase, I lost my pursuer and lived to claim my revenge for this affront...
Been stalked a lot today. Slightly worrying.
Vlad the Impaler killed me this afternoon. I received a text from a friend to say that a [description redacted] was asking around for Rob at about 16:00. Next thing I know there was a knock on the door. I went and had a look through the peep-hole, made sure the door was locked, grabbed my potato gun and scrambled for the window. Diving out and walking around the building I came face to face with my assassin and even as they opened their mouth to ask "Rob?" I fired my only shot, which they ducked with amazing speed. As I ran for the door his water-pistol spat a deadly burst straight into my back and I collapsed. Much kudos to them for their reflexes.
Brunch could sate my hunger no longer. After a nap in the
inn I sought one more meal before I returned to my lair. In these parts
lurked a well known slayer- mr potato head ( real name rob van helsing).
This was the sought I despised. My kind were merciful, bringing eternal
slumber to a wearied race, yet his elk denied our charity. He would make a
delectable dinner.
I stormed his castle, as I raced through the hallways an ominous feeling
pervaded my heart. Something was not right.
From behind a painting a stake flew, seeking to gnaw through my chest.
Cunning. Helsing was aware of my presence; but blind to my talent. I caught
the stake mid-air. Foolish mortal.
His death was slow and painful. The screams of that afternoon will forever
serve as blissful music to my ears.
Got two of my potential rivals to meet up tonight, one lured by the promise of an easy target, the other tempted by the prospect of card games with me... If you catch my drift. They shot each other good. Poked one of them with my knife to be sure. Both definitely very dead.
CHAPTER TWO: In which our correspondent's career is cut tragically short
Contrary to popular belief, an assassin's life contains diverse entertainments, not all of them to do with killing. On this crisp winter evening -- the chill in the air sharp as a well-honed knife -- I was on my way to a blood-free social evening.
Or so it might have seemed to a less paranoid assassin. For I was scheduled to meet one Dr. Facilier: an experienced assassin of my acquaintance, and a foe well worth treating with caution. I had not informed anyone of my entrance into the Guild, but there was the possibility that I was their target. With that in mind, I approached the meeting-point with nervous anticipation, provisions for the social in one hand and a cleverly-disguised pistol in the other.
There, in the shadow of a college's front gate, the would-be enemy waited; apparently wielding nothing more dangerous than a bottle of alcohol. I paused. Was it worth shooting first, and risking the ignominy of the Wanted list and the weight of a bounty on one's head? Cautious hellos were exchanged. Was there something in their other hand? I tried to get a closer look --
-- and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another figure coming up alongside. I whirled around, pistol drawn, and shot them point-blank in the chest -- only to receive a similar greeting.
Before the shock of the bullet could wear off, I felt a blade in the back. Of course. Dr. Facilier.
The silent college gate would be the only other witness to the night's proceedings. Under the stony stare of a long-dead saint, I crumpled to the cold flagstones, warmed only by the satisfaction of having taken my assassin down with me. Yes: Lei Cao, too, had fallen. A pity that my first kill would be my last.
Over our swiftly-cooling corpses, Dr. Facilier delivered the requisite Villain's Exposition. It turned out that Lei Cao had been my rightful assassin, and Dr. Facilier merely her accomplice.
Ah well. At least my death would count as Lei Cao's doing, and not theirs. As I pondered the impermanence of life, the brevity of an assassin's career, and the prospect of attending the social event as a member of the undead, one thought was uppermost in my mind: I should have shot Dr. Facilier while I had had the chance.
No matter now. It is a better place I go to, now: one free from the shackles of paranoia and distrust, and from the jaws of encroaching competence deadlines. No more shall I roam the streets with a knife in my hand and murder on my mind; and no more shall the rest of the Guild be subjected to my belaboured verbosity.
Yours, if only briefly,
Proper Noun
I DO APOLOGISE, Death said, looking down at the ghost of the recently
deceased. I WAS SURE THAT YOU WERE HIM.
"Apologise?!" The man was
outraged. "Well it's only my life that you've gone and stolen from
me!"
YES, AND I'M AFRAID THAT IT WILL BE DIFFICULT TO RETURN. YOU MAY
BE INCONVENIENCED FOR... A WHILE.
"A while?!" yelled the ghost as he
began to fade. "How long is that?"
UNTIL I CAN CONVINCE ONE OF THE
REINCARNATION DEITIES TO UNDO MY MISTAKE. A FEW MILLENNIA MAYBE...
Death turned as the ghost vanished from existence. Another figure walked up
the alleyway. Deciding to avoid the same mistake, Death made himself
visible in order to approach the new arrival.
DANIEL THOMAS?
"Yes? Who are yo-" Seeing the cloak and the scythe, the man paused. "Oh
****."
YES. INDEED.
For shooting an innocent, Luke Robins has been placed on the wanted list, for a period of no less than three days (from the incident in question, for various reasons, rather than from this update).
Who do you think you are, War?
As I was wandering around this morning I happened to bump into the wanted criminal The Thin Man. Noting his thin state, and guessing that this state would not improve should he be caught by the police, I supposed he may have been hungry and decided to give him a chocolate biscuit. Unfortunately, he was shot by a Chocolate Biscuit before he could eat or even receive a chocolate biscuit. Perhaps he shall have a biscuit on his grave...
"They found me at last.
This life- exciting but short.
Darkness closes in..."
Blast! Having followed Tom Durrant on his way out of lectures, I was ready to stab him with my faithful knife, in revenge for his act of treachery on the first day of the game. However, as we turned a corner, Vlad the Impaler came out and threw a throwing knife at him for a headshot, brutally taking away my chance of retribution! I proceeded to stab Tom's corpse for peace of mind. I had even written a victory haiku specially for the occasion, which now I can no longer use. Sad times
Even a vampire has a mortgage to pay. Bounties were my forte. I
easily tracked a certain Haiku, and upon watching his exit from a hidden
sanctuary I resolved to track him until I could kill discretely.
To my dismay one of the undead rose from behind him, its hollow eyes fixated
on his skull. I had to strike. From my sleeve appeared a knife. From my hand
flew death. Blood was everywhere.
After examining Joshua Lovell's lecture timetable, I went and waited outside his college for his return at around 11:10 AM. He arrived as scheduled and I heroically stabbed him in the back.
And in other news from my recent wantedness: Two people just came to see
me. I was having a mid-morning nap after my early morning murder, and was
in pyjamas and therefore not up to fighting.
This was when I
heard the tell-tale signs of people being trying to be very quiet and
remain unheard. You know - that really obvious lack of noise they
make. There was even hushed muttering outside my door!
Deciding to
check my suspicions, I got up and looked towards my door - lo and behold,
the peephole was covered up from the outside. I didn't even need to check
whether the door was locked.
"Wow," I thought. "True professionals
these guys..."
I decided to get changed and see how long they'd be
prepared to hang around. I'd barely started when the peephole was
uncovered. There was nobody visible through it when I looked.
Two or three minutes later, there was a knock at my door. "Who is it?" I
asked, having now gotten dressed. I grabbed a piece of weaponry.
"[Name-Redacted]"
The name fitted the voice - this was someone from my
corridor, a friend, and probably not trying to kill me. I opened the door -
but not too much.
"Hi," she said. "I'm here to tell you that two
people were just here to kill you."
I grinned. "I know."
"Yeah,
they dropped into the kitchen and asked 'Do you know Luke?' When they
asked which year you were, I decided to stop answering questions. They gave
up after that."
"There were two of them?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Yes. And they'd come all the way to Homerton! I think it was the [description redacted]
one that was trying to kill you - they were the one asking the
questions."
I thanked her and closed the door. And locked it.
Again.
Okay then killers! Last term's Umpire knows that [description of assassin redacted]...
PS Despite my disparaging tone of
voice in this report: kudos for trying. There are much easier targets
out there though, I'm sure...
Despite all of my fake medical qualifications and my boss-like qualities, nothing could prepare me for my unavoidable fate. Some might cry at my loss, others despair, and to you I say: "Do not be afraid.". Most of all I feel regret, for the host of evil plans I will never again be able to see through. But even more most of all I know happiness, happiness that I lived as a shining beacon of darkness in the bright world of medical practioners. I die safe in the knowledge that my evil genius mastermind did not go unrecognised nor unrewarded, having been struck off three times. I hope that someday my plans for weapons of moderate-to-mass mutilation may be realised, and that my legacy can live on through the suffering of others. For this, my friends, is the noblest of evil causes. After all, what more is there for a man to achieve than the pain and eventual death of his fellow men, women and children?
Here lies Dr. Boss, a noble gentleman of an example to you all. (2011 ? 1337; 1327 ? 1314 (part b))
The Umpire would like to remind players that although the wording of the rules is important, the spirit is too. In this instance, attempting to kill an innocent, but deliberately failing to, in order to determine their identity is a little bit naughty. Doing so by saying "Bang" with a legal weapon, but from deliberately slightly too far away is even more so. Also, handing something that does not appear to be a weapon, but actually is to someone, and then shooting them for bearing is not very nice either.
Luke Haggerty has been placed upon the wanted list for a period of not less than three days. Play nice, children.
I set my sights upon the ambrosia of a prince. Blue blood was
soooo satisfying. His bodyguards had him hidden well and at first I had no
way to identify him. But within my thoughts a plan arose.
I created a disturbance. The death of a close servant was stirring to any
noble.
Disturbances create reports, reports percolate, and the prince is reported
to.
The chief bodyguard approached a mysterious stranger. He held himself as if
a god yet wore a simple livery. The bodyguard bowed.
I flung myself from the shadows and poached a prince.
This evening, while enjoying my apple crumble, I noticed the wanted criminal Christopher Arran walking past. Obviously, I couldn't stand for such a nefarious personage enjoying the wonderful products of the Unspecified College* kitchens, so I walked up behind him and administered a swift stab in the back with my steak knife. Although the wound began to smoulder from the small amounts of Wow-Wow Sauce left on the blade, he remained standing. It was then that I noticed that he was a zombie.
Really? They're letting zombies in now? Standards have slipped...
*Unspecified College- the oldest and grandest of the colleges of Unseen University
So Elmo wanders over to Clare with a dear friend who is also playing...we wander our way up the staircase only to be met by a head poking out the door of the kitchen....we make excuses and decide to come back later when the person has done their washing up. Meanwhile through various connections, we manage to find out the name of the roommate and go up to their shared door - knocking and asking for the roommie. A person opens the door (although very cautiously) and we have a brief conversation in which we establish the roomie is at a law fac dinner...after a few seconds I shoot and my target ducks behind the door but Elmo's band gun did a good job. Elmo then feels bad for such a quick kill. Elmo and friend give Nicholas John Caldwell biscuits. Nicholas John Caldwell doesn't look sad anymore. YAY. Now bye kids! I'm off to sing the alphabet song.
After gaining entry to my target's staircase with the help of a loyal belieber, I failed to strike before their door closed, and I was like, baby, baby, baby, ohh.
As I relaxed in my room, a thundering knock came upon my door. I bid the guest to come in. No reply. I repeated my request. Still no reply. So I proceeded to open my door and be greeted by an assassin. So I decided it would be prudent to shoot her. So I did.
The foolish A.S.Sassin tried to attack me at my lair today, so I hexed her into a frog and rendered her weapons harmless. The frog managed to hop away though. Offering a bounty of 1 packet of biscuits for capture of that frog, dead or alive
For making an attempt in an Out-of-Bounds area, A.S.Sassin has been placed upon the wanted list, and will be redeemed upon making one licit kill.
Far too many people have been going wanted so far this game. The penalties for doing so have been very light so far. After this weekend, I fear that anyone going wanted will face much harsher redemption conditions.
You have been warned!
Also, a bounty on the head of a player does not make them a licit target for you. If they are not otherwise a licit target, you may find yourself subject to sanctions if you do kill them...
Elmo has sadly met their end with a water bullet to the neck. :(
Women can be difficult. This individual had dodged my assaults six
times proving herself no exception. Seven however is my favorite number. It
brings with it luck.
I entered her city and lo and behold, she stood before me, haggling with a
trader over the price of her lunch.
Hunger seldom visits but one individual.
How sumptuous she proved. Thank
you elmo, you were most satisfying.
This afternoon I infiltrated the accommodation of Lupus and attempted to burst into his room. Unfortunately, the door was locked and upon knocking there was no response.
Underestimating the cunning of my target, I assumed he was out and proceeded to interrogate his neighbours on his whereabouts. As I stood unaware in the doorway of a nearby room, Lupus burst with a roar from his lair, hurling a throwing knife which just missed me, but may have accidentally hit a nearby innocent (note to Umpire: I'm not sure whether it hit her or not. It happened in a blur.)
Taking advantage of my target's withdrawal, I fled the scene.
Assassination attempt was made on my person at approximately 4:20. Someone attempted to open my door and upon not getting a response knocked on my neighbour's doors and started asking my whereabouts. While their back was turned I opened my door a crack and chucked a throwing knife at them. I missed unfortunately and they dived into my neighbour's room to avoid the second knife I threw. Having run out of weapons I closed my door and they feld the scene moments later.
One of my throwing knives ricochetted off a wall and hit an innocent in the hand. Not sure if that makes me wanted or not.
The Umpire notes that shooting an innocent is sufficient to warrant being placed on the wanted list, regardless of whether it killed them or merely injured them. You should be careful around non-players, as they might not be too happy to be involved in a fire-fight...
For injuring an innocent, Ryan Robinson is placed upon the wanted list for a period of not less than three days, and is required to attain one licit kill to redeem himself.
There seem to be quite a few people shooting innocents at the moment. Please be more careful >:|
I decided to hunt Twinkle "kills with a chainsaw" Popopo for some delicious souls. In the dark alley near their residence, however, I barely managed to avoid a grue. Decided it to retreat for the day.
When visited by friends, a warm meal is the
least one can do. I convinced a traveller to let me stay a while in his cart
and after hiding but a few minutes I spotted a tall individual with long
black hair passing by. I threw open the doors of the cart and took him
captive from the rear.
One will not do, my brothers visit.
The second was a known criminal, why not claim a bounty and a meal? Killing
two birds with one stone is most advisable. My bounty stood, in plain sight
chattering with an unknown individual! Such naivety, did she know not that a
packet of biscuits lurked more seriously than the sword of Damocles over her
head?!?! Her capture was swift.
My brothers and I feasted, two fresh souls, bound in captivity and
tantalizingly terrified made a most hearty meal. After our meal was done I
set about preparing the afternoons entertainment when to my surprise a lost
adventurer walked into my lair, pistols drawn! Such willingness should never
go unrewarded. Why pass up desert when freely offered?
Throughout the evening parties of hunters lurked at my door. Though tempted
to strike I passed the opportunity, my bloodlust suppressed by my morning
activities.
Tragic events happened this night. I began, together with Trillian, entering [COLLEGE-REDACTED] with the clear aim of blood shedding. Both our targets have however no life and therefore didn't leave their room. It was an attempt at least and we walked back to [2nd-COLLEGE-REDACTED]. Playing with my rubberbandgun I entered the lift. Then, the most unfortunate series of events took place: I apparently pressed the wrong button, the door opened at the wrong staircase and that very, ******** moment, Vlad the Impaler shot me with a watergun, whilst my rubberbandgun jammed. I have no idea why this individual runs around with waterguns and I just assume that Ares hates me, but whatever the case, I am quite dead now.
I spent a tense, pointless hour lurking outside CylonSeven's room, but he wasn't in. On my way out, I saw my target arriving. Too far off to attack, I followed him back in and tried again, but couldn't get a clean shot at him. Unwilling to risk a further attempt that evening, I beat a hasty retreat, feeling fairly sheepish about the whole thing.
Lady Vanity and her face-eating horse of death draw blood!
Having been tipped off by a contact that my target, Luminara was in a
certain lecture, I positioned myself near to him in order to track him as
he left. I had intended to wait until the end, but as luck would have it,
during a break he got up and left. I followed, my noble steed slavering in
my pocket.
There were few people around as I followed the target out into the
courtyard. Keeping close behind, I felt the need to check my contact had
been right, so as not to unleash the NightMare on some unsuspecting fool. I
called his name, and as he started to turn, I was on him. Blood washed over
the stones.
Let the scourging begin.
It was a peaceful day in Cambridge, and I was aimlessly strolling through the bicycle fields in that most beautiful of surroundings, the engineering department. There were few things on my mind besides obtaining the fabled elixir of life/wakefulness from the eternal fountain of coffee on the far side of the field. I was certainly not thinking about my death. As I circumnavigated a particularly large bicycle tree, I heard a strange sound behind me. It sounded like my name, but distorted by what seemed to be the sound of hooves. I turned, and to my horror, I saw a large, wild, killer horse charging straight towards me. Thinking to slay this foul beast, I reached for my sword... Disaster! My scabbard was empty, my blade left within my cloak. I attempted to flee, but my two legs were no match for the four that pursued me, and I was trampled into the mud. The last thing I heard was Lady Vanity's mocking laughter...
Seeing as I'm now wanted, I deemed it prudent to start killing the local
police force. Started with Willikins seeing as I've killed him once
already. I consider it a civic duty to remove any policeman who has such a
base emotion as revenge as their primary motive for service.
Lupus
Time: Someweher between 7 and 8 pm, 31/01/11
Involved: Captain Stabby,Vlad the Impaler
Dispatch: Captain Stabby to [NAME-REDACTED]
Following our previous discussion, I set out on the trail of the villainous
knave known only as [NAME-REDACTED], tracking the villain to his lair in
[LOCATION-REDACTED]. Having first ascertained his presence, by means of the
garishly [ADJECTIVE-REDACTED] music blairing out from his hideout, I
attempted to force down the door and live up to my name. Sadly, this
nefarious bandit had invested in that most ungentlemanly of defences: a
lock. "[EXPLETIVE-REDACTED]" I thought to myself once it became clear the
evil-doer had no intention of emerging from his stronghold. My future
attempts will clearly require an additional degree of [NOUN-REDACTED].
I had been trying to adhere to the somewhat-unwritten but weak and tenuous
Corpus Alliance of Shadowy Figures.Sadly the events of today have forced me to
break this genteel code. Reports had been flooding in from men of the night
that my friend, mentor and target Ryan Robinson (aka Lupus) had gone loopy.
Loopy Lupus had been known to kill innocents and had even strayed to killing
the officers of the law. As a decent citizen and blood thirsty murderer, I knew
it was my duty to protect the local population through an act of violent
dismemberment. As I left my room and turned into the corridor, I spied a
disturbing darkness enter the hall. Disturbed at the thought that this might be
the shadow of my quarry, I drew one of my knives in preparation. Lo and behold,
the form emerging around the corner was that of Lupus. Fury warped his face. As
I stared into those manic eyes, I knew, one of us would not walk away. Lupus
began to charge but I halted his advance with a well aimed throwing knife. To
my horror, his magnificent skill in knife-craft allowed him to deflect the
projectile. A look of glee flashed across his manic features. Slowly, he
descended, unaware of a second knife I had concealed in my cloak (jeans
pocket). What followed is one of few things I have ever had the compulsion to
call matrix-esque. As I flung my knife at Lupus, he performed an act of epic
flexibility and agility. I am not a man who is prone to exaggeration, but this
was a feat not short of Olympic brilliance. Ryan performed at least three
cartwheels and a 360 degree mid air barrel roll in the midst of dodging my
knife (I think). Simultaneously, he launched cold plastic-steel at me. By the
grace of He-Man, his blade sailed inches from my face.
Both unarmed, an electricity surged between the combatants. As they eyed each
other up, both knew that this was their final move. Any hesitation, just a
moment of anti-swiftness, would cost their lives. And so our two heroes lunged
with utmost urgency toward the field of swords that lay between them. As I
reached for my only hope, a 6" ballpoint, Ryan lunged towards his adamantium
scimitar. Luck however, had betrayed him, and placed the blade beyond his
reach. Before he was able to claim it I struck.
From Ryan's perspective (probably):
My hand was outstretched, inches, nay, millimetres from my blade. My momentum
carrying toward my salvation - but then! A searing pain pierces the back of my
neck. I look down, and see the nectar of my life, draining away. An emerald
shard, read: green biro, jutted from my pulsing neck. Somehow, against all
medical wisdom, through the pain, through the fear, I choked out a witty
one-liner 'At least it was to the bloody point' ....
Return to third person to avoid awkward ambiguity of describing death:
As Ryan choked out his last words (which were hilarious by the way), and his
vision began to turn dark he noted something curious. Tears were dripping into
his blood. His protégée, his friend, his brother...his uncle, his accountant,
his bed-maker, his cousin thrice removed on his mother's side...on occasion is
his cuddler-upper (the author reminds the reader that this story is not only
embellished for the sake of the readership but also ENTIRELY CONFIDENTIAL - ON
PENALTY OF DEATH (not actually a threat, please don't kill me)) was weeping.
Weeping with an intensity only known to those who have trodden the darkest path
of human existence. He had killed a friend.
The account of my death just sent to you by Uncle Fester is factually accurate and not in any way a collaborative work of fiction concocted between us to make our encounter seem more epic.
Uncle Fester has earned a Pseudonym for the use of Epic Music.
I was walking home from lectures today, chatting away happily with a friend
and then this happens:
At a suitable lull in the conversation, my friend turns to me and says:
"So, I got a new target today...
"It's YOU.
"BANG"
Needless to say, I was surprised for a moment, but then I was dead so it
hardly mattered.
Point-blank range, a single bullet to the head.
Watch out, An Armed Bastard is about.
It seems my activities of late have not gone unnoticed.
Today myriad slayers attempted to vanquish my soul. Mortals. Don't they know
it takes >3 MA's to kill Vlad?
I snuck away from my castle in order to take a party by surprise. As I
returned to my castle a fellow vampire was to be seen stalking my grounds.
Treachery from one of my creed! I descended upon him. He attempted to fight
but his reactions were no match for mine. I disarmed him and sapped his
energy. Regret tinged my heart. Once a vampire always a vampire. "can I
offer you a meal for your trouble?" "I would enjoy that" As we walked away
the scent of deceit stung my nostrils, I spun, sure enough another assailant
lurked behind me with a rifle ready. He fired and I leapt, before I left the
ground lead had shattered my pelvis yet I am no mortal man. I spun mid air
in a barrel roll and flung a stake at him as he continued to fire to no
avail. Sure enough it found its mark. I dispatched his partner. Some acts
cannot be forgiven.
After I healed I read a letter inviting me to a feast in my honor, held by
an unknown vampire in a peculiar location.
Suspicious much?
I went in search of more quarry yet after realizing the identity of my
assailants and steeling myself to their destruction they fled, narrowly
escaping rest eternal. Why fight? Peace will come soon enough.
Later that evening more knocks were heard upon my gates yet feeling tired I
decided to sleep, earplugs and a sleeping mask can work miracles.
Random Strategy chooses targets randomly.
This fails.
And now the world will be purged, until only ash and dust remains. Sir Humphrey Pennington was but the second of many to feel my wrath, and the pound of
iron-shod warhorse hooves.
The tactician will always be the victor. Armed with a timetable, a
description and of course, a face-eating horse, I tracked down my target.
Having missed her first transition between areas I could not invade, I
calmly settled down in wait, and whiled away the time doing work. Today
would be doubly productive.
As the clock drew towards lunchtime, I readied myself and my noble steed.
Sir Humphrey Pennington came into my attack zone unawares, and my horse leapt
forwards to take her down.
AH. CAPTAIN CEPHALOPOD. JUST THE MAN I NEED. Death looked the invertebrate
soldier over. WELL, MAYBE NOT QUITE A MAN, BUT NONETHELESS. YOU GET
THE IDEA.
The strangely squid like creature hissed at him, but it was
a hiss of compliance, not aggression.
GOOD. YOU SEE, THERE IS A RATHER
PSYCHOTIC VAMPIRE ON THE LOOSE, KNOWN AS VLAD THE IMPALER. HE'S BEEN MAKING
MY JOB A LOT BUSIER OF LATE, AND AT THE RATE HE'S GOING I SOON WON'T HAVE A
JOB AT ALL. HE'LL HAVE KILLED EVERYONE.
Captain Cephalopod's hiss
seemed to imply that it thought this might not be a bad thing, but Death
shook his skull.
HE GAINS POWER WITH EACH KILL. IF YOUR PEOPLE WANT A
CHANCE AT OVERTHROWING THE DISC, YOU WILL NEED TO GET RID OF HIM. AND SINCE
I MUCH PREFER TO HARVEST THE SOULS OF THOSE WHO HAVE LED CONTENTED, HAPPY
LIVES, RATHER THAN THOSE WHO HAVE HAD THEIR LIVES BRUTALLY CUT SHORT...
WELL, YOU GET THE PICTURE.
The creature cocked its head in
acquiescence.
RIGHT. I HAVE SET A TRAP. HE WILL BE COMING THIS WAY
SHORTLY. I SHALL POSE AS A BEAUTIFUL MAIDEN, IN AN ATTEMPT TO LURE HIM TO
ATTACK ME. THEN, BETWEEN THE TWO OF US, WE SHALL OVERWHELM HIM.
The
next hiss indicated that Captain Cephalopod thought this to be a
stupendously bad idea, but the Immortal ignored it.
A short
while later...
OKAY, OKAY, YOU WERE RIGHT. APPARENTLY IT
TAKES MORE THAN JUST A WEDDING DRESS TO MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A TEMPTING MEAL.
I THOUGHT PALE SKIN WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ATTRACTIVE?
This last hiss was
much louder than the others, and with it Captain Cephalopod turned and
crawled away.
...GOOD POINT. PALE SKIN IS INDEED DIFFERENT FROM NO
SKIN, AND VAMPIRES PREFER SKIN WHICH OFFERS THE PROMISE OF, WELL, BLOOD.
The Immortal sighed. IT SEEMS I STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN.
***
Out of character, I would like to add the following advice.
Advice which my fellow wanted assassin has clearly learnt:
Remember
kids, if you don't know who's helping you, you don't know if they really
are helping you.
Deciding to waylay my target before enters he the [unspecified society], I approached corner of building. Jumping out, weapon in hand, I frantically looked for Death. He, however, had employed most dastardly way of not being seen; he wasn't there. Giving up, I proceeded on own business.
I, the host of the Ballrooms on Mars, report lurking (with unspecified
people:) at the unspecified corridors of the unspecified college where 2 of
my targets dwell and a nearby college with the deathbringing Vlad the
Impaler. The sounds were coming room, the lights were on, but silence
answered the knocks on his door.
But soon, soon, the Ballrooms of Mars would fill with the dead!
This evening Chocolate Biscuit was fully prepared for a fight, akin to those seen when only one ginger nut is left in the pack and at least four different people lunge for it at once. In this instance instead of a ginger nut or similarly delicious biscuit it was the chance to kill Vlad the Impaler and instead of a mad scramble it was a collaborated effort between myself, Lady Vanity and Ballrooms on Mars. We lurked like the broken custard cream that lurks in the bottom of every biscuit tin, but alas Vlad was like a caramel digestive - he was there last time we looked but since then had disappeared, perhaps eaten. Perhaps another time we shall be able to introduce Vlad to the delights and deliciousness of chocolate biscuits...
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