Cloak & Dagger The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 News

Thursday, 28 February

[09:39 AM] The Wizard of Odds is looking for A gentle spooning. Anyone want to give The Wizard of Odds A gentle spooning?
The Wizard of Odds reports:

The odds were not in my favour. It's not that I'm a fraud, it's just that I was unable to conjure up enough luck through my magics to compensate for it.

Friday, 1 March

[15:30 PM] The Soup Dragon craves A gentle spooning, but can't quite seem to find one...
The Soup Dragon reports:

I went to A gentle spooning's cave and tried to open the lid, but it wouldn't budge. I couldn't hear anyone inside the cave and continued not hearing anything for several minutes.

[22:01 PM] Albert Wesker snares another victim. This time it's Ben Fraser (Irishman X)
Albert Wesker reports:

============================================= INTERNAL E-MAIL: FOR UMBRELLA CORP. EYES ONLY ============================================= RE: MORE VICTIMS FOR MY PROGRAMME Now I can feel the power of the Z-Virus. My latest creation (which has taken a lot of my time, hence my recent negligence of testing of my virus) is a fabulous, wonderful drug that isolates a certain part of the virus, giving me the impressive resilience of my zombies, but allows me to keep control of my mental faculties - including my fine motor functions. True, it has not been tested to a massive extent, but I have complete trust in my obviously unparalleled scientific prowess. Fuelled by this new discovery, I went searching for more of the scum of the earth to test my flesh-eating virus on. I scrapped the plan to target the drug on those with important characteristics in order to solely take more victims and further my burgeoning zombie empire. I thus found myself on the doorstep of one Ben Fraser, a battle-scarred Irishman who had let himself go. Passing him as I went to his room, I did not recognise him. However, my accomplice in the college pointed out that my prey was lurking outside. Surprised by my negligence, I lurched downstairs and with much malice of forethought, I fired repeatedly with my updated dart gun and watched the Irishman break down into a mess, as his genetic structure spliced into the horrific monster which I had dreamed of. With a monster such as this, no-one will stand again me. Any that would will see their own spleen before they die. ===================== END OF INTERNAL EMAIL =====================

Irishman X reports:

Feeling the bitter sting of betrayal. My neighbour helped a friend into our home, allowing him to shoot me in the chest. I died, cold and alone, while they cackled manically. Oh, the brevity of life.

Saturday, 2 March

[17:30 PM] Allan Karlsson slips through Oswell E. Spencer's fingers...
Oswell E. Spencer reports:

============================================= INTERNAL E-MAIL: FOR UMBRELLA CORP. EYES ONLY ============================================= RE: POTENTIAL NEW TEST SUBJECT Alas, Allan Karlsson appears to be trying very hard to avoid being infected by my virus. He has set up a perimeter around his house with guards patrolling. The guards check everyone trying to enter and are quick to barricade the entrance. We must try something a little more daring if we are to enter. ===================== END OF INTERNAL EMAIL =====================

Monday, 4 March

[11:41 AM] Bastila fails to bring down TheMagician. Not much of a Jedi then...
Bastila reports:

I attempted to shoot the notorious incompetent, TheMagician, at about 8 pm, on, yes, let's say last Monday, and he grabbed my nerf gun off me before I could fire, and then held it up in the air so I couldn't reach it, shouting 'loot!'. And then he stabbed me with a knife cunningly disguised as, I believe, a comb. Or maybe a pen. And then we watched an episode of Chuck.

TheMagician reports:

Policewoman Bastila killed as she tried to make an incompetence bust in a room at (UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE) this Monday evening. Fortunately I was able to dispatch this officer of the law with a knife before she could harm me. The corpse was then used as an inanimate movie-watching companion.

[16:33 PM] *Mournful whistling noises*. Cheryl Weedon (The Soup Dragon) has been infected by Albert Wesker
Albert Wesker reports:

============================================= INTERNAL E-MAIL: FOR UMBRELLA CORP. EYES ONLY ============================================= RE: Hmmmmmm..... It seems that you can actually have too much of a good thing. The modified Z-Virus which I infected myself with is beginning to have more of an effect on my psyche than I originally expected. This is one of my more lucid moments, as it seems that the genetic modifications that I made to allow me to retain fine motor skills have, to put it colloquially, turned around and bit me on the ass. True, I do still retain fine motor skills, but I am now prone to moments where I can do nothing but fine motor skills. Occasionally, more worryingly, there are moments where my mind is not my own. Looking back over my case notes, there have definitely been times where this has been more than self-evident. I feel ashamed at my lack of discipline. That is not to say that my drive is not more focused than ever. It has come to my attention that the ex-President of Umbrella Corp, Oswell E. Spencer, who I thought I had well and truly killed when I shoved my hand through his chest and ripped out his heart, is still alive and attempting to usurp my research. He even has a copy of my virus. MY VIRUS. HOW MUCH WORK DID HE PUT INTO THIS? NONE! NONE AT ALL! THIS IS MY LEGACY AND MY GIFT TO THE WORLD. I WILL NOT LET SOME PUNY OLD MAN CRUSH THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE HUMAN RACE INTO MY BEAUTIFUL, MAJESTIC, FEAR-INDUCING ZOMBIES BY HIS POLITICS AND HIS DISRESPECT FOR THOSE WHICH ARE CLEARLY ON A SUPERIOR BIOLOGICAL PLANE OF EXISTENCE. HIS HEAD WILL BE MINE AND I WILL LAUGH AS HIS BONES TURN TO ASHkjfsekbjglkrgijirhgk.. Cough. Er-hum. Well, I kind of forgot myself there. I should probably strike that from the record. I don't want future political upheaval if my future subjects find out about this period in my past. Anyway, I tested the virus again today, although I must admit that this was mostly due to anger. The woman who had bested me earlier in the process of the creation of this virus, Ms Cheryl Weedon - the ex-wife of the late Mr Tristan Roberts (aka the Rat Man) - was in my vicinity today. Seeing my opportunity while she was distracted by a cup of tea, I pulled out my dart gun and fired one clean shot at her head. Again, I watched the zombie materialise in front of me. The kill was just as sweet as before, but this time it was even sweeter, because I had followed through on a promise to myself: that none shall stand against me and those that do - those who humiliate me - will, in the mangled words of the great politician Harvey Dent, live long enough to see themselves become the monster. A monster of MY design. ===================== END OF INTERNAL EMAIL =====================

The Soup Dragon reports:

Curse you Albert Wesker!

[22:40 PM] A gentle spooning is not for everyone! We have another wanted player. Make more of an effort than last time, please!
A gentle spooning reports:

What are thee? Thou art not cowards surely? In mine life, I hath never felt as safe in life from death as I hath amidst this lacklustre tourney! It seems none of thee feel even the most meagre hint of courageous stirrings in thine flaccid loins! When thou return to the cities of thy residence, wouldst thou not feel the scything glares and deep embarrassment of your fellow citizens? I challenge thee to strike me down, if not to bolster thine misguided belief in the less than glorious dimensions of thine weapons, then surely to stir even the most minute sensations of acknowledgement in the eyes of the opposite sex! Slay me, lest the tourney expire before I do, for should I survive, the might of mine scorn and mine mirth would truly crush you into chewy husks of humanoid form, nutritious not even to the most accepting fungi. Perchance thou have not incentive enough, I hath entertained myself by brutally massacring a market place of civilians. I didst savour every last plea for mercy, just as I wouldst savour any attempt to cleave my life from my body.

Tuesday, 5 March

[17:29 PM] Random Strategy gives Sam Twist (A gentle spooning) the spooning he craves
Random Strategy reports:

It has come to my attention that I have a userper. One who claims to wield the spoon. This will not do. I readied the mighty chainspoon, and set out for a gentle spooning's college. No sooner had I arrived, but the powerful luck charm on the chainspoon made someone open the door to the staircase for me. After having retried it from the inside of my bag, I walked to his room. Yet again, the chainspoon did not disappoint, and almost instantly, the wanted criminal appeared out of his room. Thus, a gentle spooning was dealt the most terrible spooning of them all: the chainspooning. He did not survive.

A gentle spooning reports:

It revives my faith in humanity, that which has come to pass. For one - he walks amongst thee - a man with surely moon sized cahoonas, identified only by the hint of swagger, made necessary by the mechanical constraints brought about from carrying such courageous traits. Made weary by my exertions amongst the civilians, it was without due care that I doth step down from my chambers without my sword drawn; My eyes were met by the images of a rabbit and an assortment of primitive construction materials. Nil else registered ere the assailants load drove into my face, blinding me and mortally wounding me! As I fell to my knees I spake thus: 'Ye Assassin, I pray thou must tell me thine name!' And he replied, as he raised his weapon to mercifully end my pain due to my disconcerting lack of eyes: 'I am known as Random Strategy...'

[23:08 PM] Revan has returned. Max Baxter-Allen (qt3.14) is slain.
qt3.14 reports:

As I walked to my college yesterday evening, little did I know that the chief Police was following me. While walking through the Courtyard he shot me from behind.

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