The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 News

Watched Tess Tickle stab a man in broad daylight. Shame really. Was hoping to see him thunderbolted.

Upon realising that although a million volts up my backside would be rather stimulating, it would also kill me. I therefore decided to get off my lazy posterior and kill someone. Rover knew one of my targets had a maths lecture at 12 so we decided to wait outside the lecture to see if we could spot him. As luck would have he emerged in front of us, so I decided to do a final check and ask if he was Harry. He responded with "errrr... I'll say no", which I responded to with piecing him with my dagger and leaving him to bleed out.

On his island Lemminkäinen, mighty Ahti Saarelainen sat there in the foulest mood; robbed he was of his foe's death, the chosen target he could not kill th'enemy had not been found; his blood had not been shed. Wondered Ahti, thought he then: what to do, which path to follow? His bloodlust was not yet sated, he had still not made a kill.

Took he his crossbow in hand, strode he then to find a foe find someone who he could murder came he then upon a cabin heard inside a foeman jesting, with his fist beat on the doorframe he knocked once and he knocked twice 'til on the third knock came the foe forth, crossbow in hand the foe replied, with steel bolts our hero threatened tried they both to slay one 'nother with iron to shed the other's blood. but the crossbows did both jam neither could their foe's blood spill.

The door closed in Ahti's face, and still no feats had he performed no foes sent to Tuonela none to cross the black river or to spill their blood on oceans. Ukko he then cursed with all his might, the great old man he condemned he who would not let him slay who would not let blood be spilled.

Someone knocked at the door, I made them wait while I cleaned up the room, and then I loaded a band (just in case it wasn't the good kind of surprise) and opened the door. We both took shots at each other but I missed and his gun either misfired or hit the door. We called discussion to verify the above, and then he left.

No one can be allowed to extract themselves from my eternal web of death, not even a wizard. Not even renowned prankster Frederick Weasley

As I left my room to fill my digestive cavity with delicious morsels from the college servery on this morn, it occurred to me: I had a sum total of 4 hours and 50 minutes to make a move before being bestowed the title I should have earned ten times over: incompetent. As a result, I armed myself with a subtle knife, since one must use subtlety when weaving amongst the mortals at feast.

Upon my arrival at the gateway to the hall, who should I see but Fred Weasley, who had the temerity to claw his way out of the web of death I launched him into. This must not stand. THIS WILL NOT STAND. As he made his way towards the brunch servery, I reached for the subtle knife at my belt, where it was concealed. He never saw it coming. WI A GREAT CRY O YAR TO HONOUR ME PIRATE ANCESTARRRRS, I BE THRUSTIN ME BLADE INTO THAR MIDDLE O HIS BACK. THAR GREAT LANDLUBBER NE ER SAW ME COMIN. NE ER TRUST A PIRATE MATEY, IN PARTICULARRRR ON WHO BE WEAVIN YE A WEB O DEATH. YARRR

The Weaver

Lemminkainen still had not been able, Ahti had not tasted success, Saarelainen always failed when it came to slaying foes spilling blood on sharpened steel sending off to Tuonela far beyond the black river to feast with the living no more. His first foe would not be roused would not come to meet his death. The second had been saved by the old man, Ukko had him protected, cursed the crossbow not to fire, stopped the bolt before it flew yet Ahtis heart still cried for slaughter his blade yearned to taste on flesh, his darts eager to slay his foes.

So our hero still did search, for a foe who he could kill, and run them through with sharpened blade. Heard he then of an enemy, a foe who would fight him face-to-face, fared he then off to her cabin, off to face this wide-famed foe. Came he to the cabins doorway, to the home's fence and gate, took his crossbow in hand and on the door he knocked one time, he knocked twice, until the third time he knocked, out burst the foe, knives at the ready Ahtis first shot her did miss, it was carried by the wind, off over his foe's shoulder, flew above and past her head at that she threw her first knife but it fell short at Ahtis feet.

Laughing, Ahti fired again, he shot one time, he shot twice, each bolt failed to find its mark neither one would taste on flesh, nor spill the adversary's blood. The foe then threw two more knives, each again yet missed Ahti, the pointed daggers, he did duck.

Seeing Ahti still alive, standing tall amongst the living, his foe then did flee before him she did not have to flee far though the third bolt it did strike truly, found its mark and spilt their blood sent the foe to Tuonela, far beyond the black river to feast with the living no more, never to taste life again.

Ahti had now taken a life, he had slain a foe in battle, shed her blood with sharpened arrow, run her through with bolt of steel. Yet his bloodlust still was not sated, he still yearned to kill again.

Who likes jokes, Ed has one

Knock knock

...

Knock knock

Knock knock.

Eds jokes don't work if no-one wants to do the other bit.

Ben Martineau was exterminated shortly after the end of Doctor Who. Sadly just missed having epic music because the DW theme had finished and I don't think the Casualty theme counts. Behold the attack weapon.

Spotting my target emerging from a house of fun, I seized my chance and embraced her. Another part of soul splintered off as she fell to the ground, dead.

Twas the afternoon before bridgemas when all throuhgout girton...

They say a dog isn't just for bridgemas, and it has never been truer. My childhood friend, Dodger the Dog, had a kind and gentle soul when I made him lovingly in Build-a-Bear. But Uni has changed him, little did I know how much until he attacked!

Maverick McGavin was sitting quietly in the computer room, there was no provocation and no time for him to respond. Dodger gave him a swift and painless death. The only sign of conflict was a slight blood splatter on Dodgers "100% Huggable" hoodie.

It was a cold morning. You know, the perfect ones to make a kill in. After getting lots of valuable information about my target, such as their morning routine and which subject they are doing from an accomplice who has trusted me not to speak, I found the perfect time to strike. Waiting outside flat, from 08:30, I knew he had 09:00 lectures to attend. After 10 minutes, with my hands starting to show the first signs of frost bite, I waited.

15 minutes later, I heard fumbling at the door. Clearly he was as tired as I was, however, thanks to the cold, I was supremely alert. Seeing it was my target, he quickly walked into the opposite flat! Disappointed, and thinking that I might have to wait for him to finish what he was doing, I sank back down onto the floor. But then I got lucky. He clearly forgot something, and walked back into his own flat. Now was my chance. Calling his name, he made the rookie mistake of answering. Now I was sure I had the correct man. It didn't take long before I was up in front of him, water pistol in hand, ready to strike. I shot first, apologised later. Too bad he was dead before he could hear the apology.

Ahti went in search of slaughter, foes with blood to spill forth. Strode he cross all Tapiola, through the woods and cross the meadows came he to a mill and river, heard he there people disputing people learning, thoughts a-thinking. Then the talking it did finish, voices stopped with their disputing the cry it went up, up to heaven "Come my friends let us have lunch, go to eat in ev'ry college. Time has past to speak and remember, learning's day has come and gone, hurry from this place to butt'ry, in your high-roofed halls go eat!" Then the throng came pouring outwards, crowds did surge to leave the cabin; 'Mongst them Ahti spied an old-time foe, enemy of by-gone battles villain in many a quest and war, drew he then his bright blade forth and held it there in his right gauntlet ran her through with sharpened cutlass, spilled her blood upon the dirt floor still the foe did walk before him she hadn't fallen dead to ground carried striding riverward always, saw he then its coursing waters, looked upon its dark'ning waves a single boat upon the river, on the waves a ferryman rowed knew he then what ground he trod on only one stream was so gloomy by the river of tuonela that was the ground he trod on slain a girl already slaughtered, shed the blood of one not living ran the corpse through with sharp steel, fed his blade on eagle's food

It was a textbook kill. Find out about your new target late one night, identify them in the morning, get someone to sell them out by lunchtime, kill them in the evening. There were only two minor problems. Having located my target and memorised his features, I set out this evening to make the kill. I knew my target would be at one of the boathouses at a particular hour; and so I arrived early in order to scout the area, identify any potential hiding points or blind spots, and prepare my weapons. All was well. At the appointed hour my target emerged, and I paused only to confirm his identity, before taking him down with a clean shot to the chest.

Except for the two minor problems. Firstly, someone had already killed him this morning, and secondly, someone had already killed him this morning. I know technically that's only one problem but it's such a big one that I thought I should mention it twice. Just my luck. That's the trouble with your targets being inco, anyone can have a go. Let's hope the next one is more alive when I find them.

Rover

Knock Knock.

frustrated sounds of crowbarring

No-one home

Michael French has failed to make the Bad Horse gleeful

My plan is almost at fruition. While my fifth murder was only an incompetent muggle, the violence of the kill alone was enough to split yet another part of my soul. I siphoned it off into a paper crown left over from a dark and evil bridgemas party the night before, concealing in a part of Cambridge no one dares go; behind the Gardies counter. My plans are now laid, and once my last Horcrux is complete, my immortality will enable me to challenge my greatest rival at last.

On this beautiful Wednesday morning, a tragic scene took place at the front of a West Cambridge lecture theater. The unsuspecting Holly Priest was slain by someone she might have considered a friend before: Nobody. The next lecture, however, took place as planned.

Once more, the incompetence deadline was upcoming, so once more did the Weaver set forth into the world of the living, ready to reduce its population. As my luck upon previous occasions had failed me, I decided to don my Victorian gentleman garb. Little did I know that this would ensure further incompetence on my part. My destination was the once home of my now deceased unknowing nemesis. I set forth with three potential targets in mind, one incompetent and two peelers. My top hat was tingling with the ecstasy of anticipation.

Alas, the Weaver's curse struck once more. The first stop, appeared empty as I strolled up. So I proceeded to the second. Here it seemed I would have more luck, as the basement was inhabited by a couple of fellow humans. Was one of them the incompetent? I proceeded to lurk, as for all I knew I had stumbled upon an underground base of fiends. Eventually one of them left passing me by. I reached into my trouser pocket for my Jolt pistol. "Curses!" Thought I, as I could feel it was having one of those defective moments. I could not risk a run in with a foe whilst essentially unarmed, especially one who, had they any sense, would be armed to defend themselves against the horde of assassins who could legitimately kill them. I do not even know if that was the incompetent. Perhaps I am the true incompetent?

I returned, but by now the companion had also left the cellar, and I did not even know whether the house was still occupied. I quickly checked a nearby basement, however this too was also uninhabited. My web of death tangled and broken, I began my sorry stroll through the streets of Cambridge. Upon arrival, I remembered the existence of an incompetent nearby. I strutted up to the gates , only to notice the authorities looking at me suspiciously. Indeed, how do you look at a Victorian gentleman if not suspiciously? Realising any assassin activity I undertook at that point would appear highly suspicious, as the college was closed to visitors, I reluctantly walked back to my room, back into my web of defeat. I shall weave again, mark my words!

Ahti went then from the river, from the torrent of Tuonela, left behind that blackened quayside, turned to come that way no more. Slept he one night, and another, a third and fourth slept through as well. Wandered he through Kalevala, up the heaths and cross the meadows, came upon a grassland cabin, a pine-built hall he found before him; saw a warrior marching thither, heard the footsteps drawing nearer, bright mail clinking as he walked there. Took he then the bow off his back, brought the crossbow out to bear, aimed it at the foe before him, sent the arrow hurt'ling 'twards him, the bolt hung'ring for killer's blood, pierced with steel the murd'rer's heart, slew him with a dart of iron, sent him for the ferryman's business, off to cross the great black river, and to go to Tuonela, feast forever there with Mana, with no warm flow in his veins, nevermore to sing with those living, nevermore to cheer a vict'ry, celebrate with living comrades, never to divide the plunder, share it out with trusted friends; only on that forsaken island, only there where no man breathes, there forever to make his dwelling, down where all the dead men go.