Cloak & Dagger The Assassins' Guild - Week 6 News

Saturday, 21 November

[19:20 PM] The Gentleman and Gunilla Goodmountain (Ruby Tupling) attempt on Bath Brawler; Gunilla doesn't make it.

The Gentleman reports:

Dear Marquis White,

There is little for me to report, before I must a favour of you so great and so terrible that it tears at my soul to even contemplate making the request. Nevertheless, a fate has befallen me which is a travesty and an injustice which must be righted, no matter what the means, should it cost most even my immortal soul, ay, that would be price enough for the service of which I ask.

It began in the evening, as dusk fell. My lady-friend and I had enjoyed an afternoon of comradely discussion with fellow peers, and now our work for the day was done, we could be ourselves once more. We returned to my abode and equipped ourselves for the task that lay ahead. No witch was this- this was but a incompetent member of the Guild, who had proven himself unworthy of the title 'Assassin' and so required a swift removal from this life. We had attempted to murder this fellow before, but having exchanged shots, we deemed it prudent to retreat and attempt another time, following which we retired for a wonderful evening together. And thus the first drops of the bitter cup from which I now must drink spilled from the blossom of happiness and joy.

We came to his place. The doors swung upon before us, even until his room was but nearly reached. Through the pane which covered the window of his kitchen, we saw him, quite innocently cooking with a female- no worthy activity for a true Gentleman, but a reasonable pastime nonetheless. We quickly passed through the door which led into his corridor, being directly beside the kitchen as we did so. We made for the relatively safety of the end of the corridor but- and thus the second strand of the web was woven- I had not communicated my desire to simply pass to the end of the corridor, not stopping at our target's door, to my paramour. She ceased her pace for a brief moment, stopping at his door. I pulled her onwards, but unbeknownst to us our target had espied us from the corridor. He was watchful, and surmised that we were Assassins. We reached the end of the corridor, and as we passed round the corner, the kitchen door slammed. Our target was making his way around the building, to come at us from the end of the corridor. But this we did not yet perceive fully.

I heard the slam of the door, and knew that the bird had flown, but whence was not clear. I considered it likely that he had retired to his fortress of a room. My analysis was flawed, as a glance behind me showed. Stalking towards us, as Death does when he comes for all mortals, was our target, like an unstoppable force of nature. I drew my gun, behind me, my lady-friend drew hers. I took careful aim- he flinched as he saw me- and depressed the trigger. But my powder was damp, or else some other force was acting in the fateful corridor that evening, for my bullet did not fly. He smiled, ducked round a pillar against more shots, and lunged with the blade as I dived for the floor, failing to strike a blow, but catching my coat with his knife. My lady-friend fired a single shot, which missed the avenging devil, screamed- and then the blade was driven through her chest. She fell to the floor. My breath caught within me. I ran to her side, as the dark figure stood over us. I clutched her hand with one hand, placed my other hand hard against her chest to stem the bleeding. "Fear not", said I, choking back my tears. "All will be well!" My lady-friend smiled, her sweet innocent female which I so adored. Her head fell against her chest and she slumped. Dead. My stupidity and callousness was now made plain. One does not dice with lives, not at this price, not at any. My lady-friend, with whom I had spent many a happy hour had this hour been taken from me by forces beyond my power.

I looked up at the person who stood above us. Tears clouded my eyes as I reached for my lightsaber. With a touch, he stayed my hand. He beckoned me to his room, where I stood with the killer of my companion and heard him speak of experiences he had had before. He said that he regretted the necessary death of my beloved lady-friend, and announced that since it was his birthday, and I had already suffered a catastrophic loss, he would allow me to depart, bearing my fallen with me. His kindness is without a doubt, it must be said, although the killing of my lady-friend made me wish I were dead. So this bounty must now be set:

Ruby, my lady-friend, brightest of the best was
taken from me. Now she rests in the place she loved the
most except for my room and the walks around
town and the sight of me in my foolishly overlarge gown
and the sound of my voice as I came up the stairs
and the discussions we had concerning bears and
my smile in the morning which none else could see and
everything that there was to be about me. She said
that in the end all would be well but
now she speaks from the heights of Heaven
not Hell, where you must go when you die for the
price of a sinner is indefinitely high.

To speed you on your way, this I will vow,
Eight cookies to any that slay Calvert now.

And here it comes, that time when, for love, I must set aside God and Heaven, for nothing would I rather have than to see my lady-friend again. Snow White, I beg of you this boon. I know that you have power over life and death, I know that you have used it before, and now I must desperately ask for it for me. Though I have once, and do now, despise the unholy ritual that brings people back to life, I would much rather have a live Ruby than the corpse that she no longer inhabits. She did not even speak, before she died! What justice is this, O Lord? That you take the meek and innocent, whose only crime is association with me, a murderer for only the most excellent of causes? Snow White, I will join your pact with the forces of Evil if you but renew my lady-friend to life anew.

I am, for now,
The Gentleman.

Gunilla Goodmountain reports:

A Little Fall of Ruby, sung by The Gentleman.

[The Gentleman]
Good God, what are you doing?
Ruby, stay behind me dear.
Don't you shoot my beloved!
How did he come behind here?

I stayed behind you like you said
I mistakenly paused outside his door
He looked out of the window at us
I don't think I can accomplice anymore

[The Gentleman]
Ruby, what's wrong?
There's something red upon your chest
Ruby, you're hurt
You need some help
Oh, God, it's everywhere!

Don't you fret, Mister Gentleman
It's not a very large wound
The darkness and the cold
Can hardly hurt me now
You're here, that's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
And winter will beauty the world... with snow

[The Gentleman]
But you will live, Ruby - dear God above,
Please do not let me lose my love.

Just hold me now, and let it be.
Shelter me, comfort me

[The Gentleman]
You will live a hundred years
If I can persuade Snow White
I won't desert you now...

The cold can't hurt me now
This cold will mean I don't get lost
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
I'll sleep in your embrace at last.

The cold that followed us here
Is Heaven-blessed!
The dark skies are over us
And I'm at rest
A breath away from where you are
I'm going home from so far

So don't you fret, Mister Gentleman
I don't feel any pain
A little touch of cold
Can hardly hurt me now

That's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close

[The Gentleman]
Hush-a-bye, dear Ruby,
You won't feel any pain
A little touch of cold
Can hardly hurt you now
I'm here

And I will stay with you
Till you are sleeping

And cold...

[The Gentleman]
And cold...

Will beauty the world...

[The Gentleman]
Will beauty the world with... snow...

Bath Brawler reports:

I heard footsteps down the corridor and immediately was on my guard. A pair of people I barely recognised walked in wearing overly large coats and headed past my door. An unjustifiably long pause and a quick check on my door's handle gave me all the information I needed.

Trapped outside without my massive assortment of impossibly awesome weaponry I had to resort to using a knife. A quick outflanking manoeuvre caught the pair off guard. I crept as close as possible keeping my head down and my hand in my pocket. Unfortunately when recognised they got the draw on me. The lead figure pulled out his gun and aimed. At this point I darted left trying to use a pillar for cover but as he fired his gun failed. I gave him no chance to fix the fault and darted forwards slamming my knife into him. Leaving him mortally wounded I pounced upon his companion and killed her as she struggled to draw her own weapon.

I turned around as my mortally wounded attacker staggered back begging for mercy. I had got enough bloodshed and I respected his courage in attempting to assail the awesome fortress of my electronically locked isolated castle. I let him live for now and vowed that if we meet again I would not be so forgiving.

Know this fellow assassins. If not for distractions and tasks laid down by the gods themselves I would have smote many more this season. Look to the skies and fear my return. I believe my time here is coming to a close. Even the best of you are mortal and all it takes is one mistake...

Sunday, 22 November

[17:15 PM] Another death to the dark side, Hiro Protagonist (Jared Jeyaretnam) falls to Shirley you can't be serious.

Shirley you can't be serious reports:

I am pleased to announce that I have murdered my neighbour and enemy, Jared Jeyaretnam. I entered his room as he was intoxicating himself before an evening of frivolity, shot him in the leg and then launched Percival, my attack platypus at him, at which point he was devoured almost entirely. I have kept a finger, which I am currently in the process of embalming, so that I can add it to my collection that I enjoy showing to guests at my regular dinner parties.

Monday, 23 November

[08:50 AM] Another one down, as Bella Venezia (Jonathan Adlam) falls to G. H. Tam of the Rubik's Cube Club.

Bella Venezia reports:

This morning the cunning "tam" made their next attempt on me. This time, it was a success. On the way to the hospital, waiting for the lights, I heard my name called and naiively turned, expecting a friend. Instead, I endured a super soaker blast to the face.

The quest is over.

G. H. Tam of the Rubik's Cube Club reports:

After three - THREE - trips across an impossibly far distance out to the wilderness beyond civilisation, multiple internet searches through the quagmires of Facebook and school news sites, and the resurrection of a place thought long dead in the hope that he might maybe respond (he didn't), I announce that my target since many weeks ago, Jonathan Adlam, has finally perished by my hand.

In slightly related news, please be careful when dodging projectiles and running fast outside, for the weather is cold enough that the roads and pavements are icy (especially in the early mornings when pre-lecture lurking takes place).

[09:00 AM] Berserkr makes the Duel, killing Forerunner Dain II Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills AKA The surprisingly psychotic and highly lethal back-packing madman AKA Judas AKA This game is shredding my nerves AKA Thranduil, King of Mirkwood (Samuel Mackey).

Berserkr reports:

I killed Samuel Mackey today outside his lectures. He ran, but I chased him and shot him.

[10:38 AM] Another war casualty - Generic Dwarf Horde Member A takes out The small, suspicious-looking lemon pie sitting in the corner of the room, which Snow White has undoubtedly baked using the suspicious looking lemon because she's a moronic fairytale princess and they always are domestic goddesses (Mikaela Belcher).

Generic Dwarf Horde Member A reports:

Pursuant to the police war, I have just killed Mikaela Belcher.
Having read her reports, and been shot by her last year, I was/am thoroughly terrified of Mikaela. Her being in most of my lectured didn't help that fear. Knowing she had not long been killed before the start of the war, and expecting her to join, I spent most of Friday watching her like a hawk and sporadically checking the website to see if I would have to kill her, or I could relax being on the same team. Sod's law of course dictated that she be a D, and that the website was only updated after she left, so I had to stow my murderous tendencies until today. I got to her lecture ahead of her, and watched the doors intently for about 10 minutes until she showed up, when I tracked her to her seat and kept my head down. When the lecture ended I packed my crap together in record time and blended into the crowd behind her as we left the theatre. I subtly followed her a few people behind, intending to kill her outside the building. She then threw a spanner in the works by turning and making for the library. Pretty sure libraries are out of bounds, I less subtly broke from the crowd and scurried over to her, moving around her to stab her in the front (it would have seemed impolite to have stabbed her in the back).
Who shall I go after next...? Hmm, decisions, decisions...
Generic Dwarf Horde Member A
L Team

Tuesday, 24 November

[15:30 PM] Doc has a message for a superior policeman, Generic Dwarf Horde Member A.

Doc reports:


[18:05 PM] A bad day for the Dark Side, as their leader Doc kills Gotrek Gurnisson (Christopher Martin)

Doc reports:

I bumped into Christopher Martin, but couldn't remember which side of the war he was on. I did, however, know that he was alive and thus was probably on the Light Side, so I killed him. [He was Dark.]

I then proceeded to [REDACTED], where I spotted James Brotherston dining with a Very Innocent Innocent, [THERE ARE NO CURTIS REUBENS' IN CAMBRIDGE] MA, who had definitely not betrayed James, and a knife fight resulted, to which I lost both of my arms before James showed mercy and allowed me to leave.

Don't worry, light side.

I'm 'armless


[18:40 PM] It's plain to see//That the evil inside of me//Is on the rise. The Dark Gentleman eliminates Postmodernist AKA Berserkr (Alessandro Mariani), taking a Forerunner spot!

Postmodernist reports:

The Gentleman, whose name bears striking resemblance to his character, has indeed killed me, but left on my request enough life in my veins so that I could dictate the end to my philosophical work. These are my last words:

I first need to apologise for the abrput end of my last report, due to a mistaken assumption of certain substances that caused allucinations. This was a very bad decision that I won't repeat, but it inspired me to reach a conclusion to my work. Let me first sketch an index:

INTRODUCTION - Exposition of the problem of the playing

Chapter one:
1. Necessity of a problematic of the playing in the context of Assassins
2. The formal structure of the problem
3. The primacy of the problem of the playing

Chapter two:
4. The essential analytic of the playing-there as the general horizon for the problem of the playing
5. An arcontic methodology of research
6. The concept of the phenomenon freed from its historical misunderstandings

PART ONE - Interpretation of the playing-there with respect to its fundamental categories as the trascendental horizon of the problem of the playing

Chapter one:
7. The world of the playing-there as the There of its Playing
8. The playing-in-the-world as the fundamental structure of the playing
9. The worldness of the world in its generality

Chapter two:
10. An analytic of the playing-in in its relationship with the worldness
11. The basic modes of the everyday playing-in
12. The insufficiency of the everyday playing as the form of understanding the playing

Chapter three:
13. The possibility of an authentic playing
14. The incompleteness of the previous analysis of the playing-there
15. The authentic playing as the playing-towards-death

Chapter four:
15. The fundamental modes of the playing-towards-death
16. The common understanding of death and its relation with the proper significance of death
17. The question of the significance of an analytic of the authentic death.

Another question now rises: do I really want to spend the last minutes of my life writing these reflections? Surely, they are of the highest importance, who could deny that? But I was playing-towards-death, and thus I'm already "dead" in its authentic meaning. I don't need to mark my pure presence here any longer.
Well, thanks to all for listening, and buy my book!

The Dark Gentleman reports:

May Satan bestow on you such marvellous gifts as are his to bestow! For you have dipped into the eldritch arts and restored my fallen lady-friend to life, and for that you have my eternal thanks and immortal soul. But it seemeth only a small price for me to pay for so excellent a deed as you have done for me. When she breathed again, notwithstanding the gaping hole in her chest, all seemed well. Her voice is but a paltry shadow of its former sensuous magnificence, even so, it is her voice yet. Her taste for living flesh is only a very small damper on our relationship. All is outweighed by her return, and for that I thank you heartily.

Therefore with little ado, let me report on the slaying which I have performed for our master, the Father of Lies. I desired greatly to represent Him in the final duel against the remaining pitiful weaklings who still cling to the ideals of truth and contend that to serve God is our destiny and our joy- to them I say, why should I worship God when he does not avail me in my hour of need? My darling had need of him, and I heard no celestial discomfiture at her demise. But his fallen angel has the decency to involve himself in the affairs of mortals, and so is far more worthy of our worship. It is this argument that I intend to put forward more straightforwardly in the duel, by killing all who stand in my way. With this in mind, I needed to accumulate such standing amongst my peers as to be selected, which is granted by the slaying of others of similar stature. Only a very few days remained to me to perform my appointed task, so this evening I set to with vigour, and set off into the darkness into which I can now gaze and see clearly, one of the many gifts of He Who Reigneth Below.

The vehicle of my ascendency was to be one Postmodernist, who with his nonsensical ramblings serves our cause unwittingly, dragging many from the beauty and nature of the world and towards the brutality that lies behind it. No matter how useful a fellow he was, though, it would glorify our Master much more were he to be replaced by a greater and more favoured Son of Adam. To this end, I materialised outside his dwelling, a squat, looming beast with but a pair of portals. A friendly female took pity on my key-related subterfuge and opened the door for me. Thanking her with my forking tongue, I followed her into the atrium of darkness, with stairs leading upwards, and proceeded to hunt for my prey. Yet though I searched what seemed to me to be every level of the place, the room eluded me. I was disheartened by this. To what purpose would I have been given these gifts if I were to be defeated like this? What sort of servant of Satan am I?

My spirits were lifted somewhat, nonetheless, by a telepathic communique from my ally, Ben Mortishire-Smith, recently returned from the dead to serve Snow White's will. He was near, and would assist me in my venture. I stepped into the cold rain, and basked in the misery suffusing the city in the downpour. How strange it is that such a small meteorological phenomenon should cause such consternation. I looked at the gate, from whence my soon-to-be companion came. We exchanged greetings, and I told him how it sat. We elected to ask another passer-by, should they be able to divulge the information which we saught. And so it was, that we came to his floor and were confronted by a locked door. My Master possesses the power to turn the door to ashes by a touch, for myself, I could wait until he emerged from his sanctuary. And so we waited, in a small kitchen, having thoroughly scouted the floor and determined that he could in nowise evade our gaze. We passed the time by retelling stories of past glories, enjoying the tension running through us (well, through me, anyway. Hormone-mediated emotions are little to be found in the dead, who tend to lack a functional circulatory system). There was a small pane of frosted glass through which I had a clear view of our victim's door. I gazed at it, willing him to emerge, and it all to be done, as it was for my lady-friend... but of her death I shall not speak.

Perhaps an hour of the clock had passed when it happened. The portal swung open and a figure emerged, with something in its hand. I had little time to react, and swung myself round to the kitchen door, plastering an ingratiating smile on my face, twisted to a rictus by the interference of my developing blood-storage hollows from my fangs with my facial muscles. I waved through the door at his face. He nodded, and turned back to his room, lowering his band-gun in his hand as he did. Using my supernatural reflexes, I pulled the door open, and fired a single shot which took him in the back, a single shot from my accursed gun which had failed me... it had... my lady-friend...

[18:41 PM] But wait, what's this?

The Gentleman reports:

My lady-friend lies dead! The thing which has replaced her is but her dark mirror! Her soul now lies with God, where it belongs, and I have damned myself and will never follow her! Unless I redeem myself. I must redeem myself. Christ forgives all those who truly repent, and so I must do so too. I have killed in my life, and will do so again, but never again for the joy of murder, for that way lies madness. Instead, I will fight for God against any that come against me, for by assailing a servant of God such as I they doom themselves. From this day forth, I shall kill only in self-defence. Alessandro lies dead, it is true, and I closed his eyes myself, placed cookies in his dead hand, with Ben congratulating me as I did so, but never more.

I must send prayers to the soul of my lady-friend, and I break our contract, Miss White. No more shall I serve darkness. I hope only that God finds it in himself to forgive me, for I truly did not know what I was doing. My grief drove me, and it must drive me no longer. I love my lady-friend, and I shall meet her one day, God-willing, but that is no reason to love her body. I shall exorcise her, and lay her body to rest. And so it must be, for the good of all humanity.

Farewell, Snow White. I look forward to the day of our next meet, and hope that my faith proves strong until then. I urge you, as I have before, that it is not too late yet to abandon necromancy for a better path. May God have mercy on your soul.

I remain, with no little struggle,
The Gentleman.

[Two things should perhaps be clarified. One, The Gentleman did not re-murder his partner at the end of this event. Two, I'm enjoying necromancy far too much, thank you.]

[22:00 PM] Last minute policing by Klumsi and Kronick leaves Azor Ahai (Joseph Hill) and Takagi Keiji (Zhixian Duan) dead.

Kronick reports:

Lord Kurvi-Tasch,

Szpecial Agent Report: 24/11/15 2130-2300

Followingk our invesztigations szpecial agents of ze law Kronick and Klumsi attempted to hunt down ze deviants and dissenters zat plague our land. It seemz zum of zem were veery clever though and vere no-vhere to be found. But, by the whiskers of Kurvi-Tasch! a few vere hunted down and eeliminated. One by ze name of Joseph Hill opened hiz door to be greeted by our bullets and not hiz friends. And vhile inveztigating another location ve fell into an ambush. Howeveer our vould be assailant having drawn hiz veapon on us, vas outmatched by our szpeed and firepower. Zhixian Duan vas soon a lifeless body. It unfortunately turned out later he vas in fact another szpecial agent of the law attempting to protect hiz deviant friend.

Zat iz all.

Wednesday, 25 November

[17:20 PM] Doc redeems the Light Side, slightly, killing our champion Generic Dwarf Horde Member A (Michael Warman).

Doc reports:

(The Moon casts a cold light over the icy wastes of East Anglia. A solitary figure looks over the Cam, contemplating the disaster that has befallen his faction in the police war)

Who is this man?
What sort of devil is he
To have me caught in a trap
And choose to let me go free?
It was his hour at last
To put a seal on my fate
Wipe out the past
And wash me clean off the slate!
All it would take
Was a flick of his knife.
Vengeance was his
And he gave me back my life!

Damned if I'll live in the debt of a thief!
Damned if I'll yield at the end of the chase.
I am the Law and the Law is not mocked
I'll spit his pity right back in his face
There is nothing on earth we both fight
It is either the Dark or the Light!

And my thoughts fly apart
Can this man be believed?
Shall his sins be forgiven?
Shall his crimes be reprieved?

And must I now begin to doubt,
Who never doubted all these years?
My heart is stone and still it trembles
The world I have known is lost in shadow.
Is he from heaven or from hell?
And does he know
That granting me my life today
This man has killed me even so?

I am reaching, but I fall
And the stars are black and cold
As I stare into the void
Of a world that cannot hold
I'll escape now from the world
From the world of Brotherston.
There is nowhere I can turn
There is no way to go on!

(He turns, and sees Michael under a street light. They draw pistols, and duel under the amber sodium glow of a streetlamp. The unfallen falls, hit by a single bullet, and Twm casts his eyes upwards, waiting for the burst which will prove his redemption, if not in life then in death. A single bolt comes down from the clear sky, and he falls, at peace at last.)

Generic Dwarf Horde Member A reports:

My plan for the police war was simple; Mikeala and Twm would be doing all the heavy-lifting for the dark side: kill them both. That plan didn't go off perfectly.
Mikeala was in easy reach every day, and so long as she didn't get me first, I'd be able to kill her. Getting at Twm was going to be a problem. I decided to kill to birds with one stone, by killing Mikeala, and immediately sending Twm a smug text about it in the hope it would get him to come to me. That worked reasonable well, as not long after he appeared in the reports impeaching my ability to resist various kinds of permanent shape change when a compressive force is applied (not to question the bravery of the chief of police, but it struck me that if he'd really wanted to fight he'd have used his direct line to me rather than publicly puffing out his chest on the off chance I might see it...).
My attention was drawn to his challenge the next day, and I promptly decided that I probably was "hard enough". The first spanner was thrown in the works at about the same time by my lunatic dos (accidentally) setting an essay for the next day, so I didn't have the time to hunt him the old fashioned way. He agreed to a duel, throwing a second spanner into the works by stipulating we duel with muzzle loaded pistols, a far cry from my sizable, semi-automatic, clip fed weapon of choice. Overconfident following my string of successes (it is the hubris of man/dwarf that leads to his downfall), I agreed to the first battle of the game not on my own terms.
We met for the dramatic clash of light and dark in the deep dark forest of Jesus Green (there wasn't a cliff to throw anyone off of, or whatever happens to the villain in Snow White, but we made do). Struggling with muzzle loading my gun, I was eventually killed when he shot me in the back after I made the mistake of turning and running (an error so basic we learnt not to do it by the time of the Napoleonic wars...) as I tried to reload, throwing several spanners into the works of my plan, along with a Philips head screwdriver, and possibly even a sizable claw hammer for good measure.
It saddens me to be reporting my first death after the close of the game, but my mood is brightened by the thought that the Dark team were vanquished despite Twm's best efforts/breaking even. My mood is also elevated by the lasagne I'm about to buy from my college.
Generic Dwarf Horde Member A

[23:58 PM] A game-end note from The Gentleman.

The Gentleman reports:

Dear Prince Umpire,

Time passes, and makes fools of us all. As you once again draw upon your terrible power to destroy all but four of those few remaining members of a once mighty and flourishing guild, many score strong, now comes a time to reflect on the deeds that have been done, and the deeds which have been not done, and to look again to the future to see what deeds may still be done, before the end of all things.

For myself, I came into this game but an innocent and dedicated member of the guild, believing the Umpire to be immortal, omnipotent, omniscient and completely immune to any form of mind control. I doubted not your instructions, and set to my task with gay abandon. Before I had but chance to contemplate the meaning of my actions (something on which the Postmodernist, God rest his soul, did thoroughly), I had taken two lives, sent two souls to be with God. As the game wore on, though, and your instructions became increasingly wide-ranging and eccentric, I came to doubt, who never doubted all these weeks, that the cause to which we were set was good and righteous. My suspicions were confirmed as you delved deeper and deeper into the mischiefs which your Master has given you, bringing back the dead from their sleep without respect for the natural order of things. And so I have continued my fight, not against you, but against those who stand for evil. It is my belief still that you may yet be saved, although your flippancy for the matter is noted and worrisome.

The game has taught me much as of now. Friends I have made, and seen slain before my eyes, my paranoia has grown and increased until I saw assassins lurking in every shadow, a knife in the hand of every passer-by. My lady-friend, who loved and trusted me, was slain in my arms as I did your will, and the bitter consequences from that action have now been made clear, I think, to all. Sad lays have been sung over graves and vengeance sworn. My faith wavered, but is now renewed stronger than ever. There will come a time, again, when all of my friends meet again, and I with them, and together we shall band together and be the stronger for it. It will be as the May Fires, which come and cleanse the earth and make it good and wholesome for life. I have nothing but hope to sustain my faith in this fantasy, and yet I trust that it shall be so. All things turn. Nothing of which we know is eternal, save God. All is in flux, in all times and in all places.

The hour of midnight has passed without event, save only for a rattling of the door four hours previous, and by your decree, the killing shall cease for a time. Time for each of us who remain to search their souls, and see if they can find within themselves the justification for their actions. All may now relax, for a brief period. The human sacrifices made for Snow White by each kill have granted her enormous amounts of unnatural power, such that any conflict is in vain. Knives no longer draw blood, bullets lose their kinetic energy and fall to the ground, killer attack pets become but normal animals. Until she sees fit to end it, and let the single victor emerge, so it shall be. No more knives in pockets, no more peering around corners lest an assault come, simple peace shall cover Cambridge once the storm cloud of the wrath of Hell subsides. There shall come a new dawn, an end of an era. All will be well, in the end, as said once my lady-friend.

That must conclude my missive at this time. To my soon-to-be duelling partners, I extend to you nothing but my most earnest greetings, and wish to let you know that, rise or fall, slay me or no, cookies will be given (so use some form of telepathy to inform me about any allergies, please). I look forward to making your acquaintance, brief as it must be. To my fallen comrades, in Heaven, I give my oath that I will strive to rectify the conditions that led to this sorry pass, that nevermore must brother lose brother and friend friend. And finally, to Miss White, it is never too late to depart from the path of evil. Do so now, and God will be merciful. But I fear that your time also is coming to a close, and those who repent before Saint Peter are likely judged more harshly than those who mend their ways in this life. God granted us free will, though and therefore the decision is always to be yours.

Expect but one more missive from me, for that is all the time we have left.

I remain,
The Gentleman

[23:59 PM] The Game is over! Only the Duel remains...

Snow White reports:

And with the stroke of Midnight, the Game is officially over! Thank you all very much, it's been a pleasure to Umpire. Only the Duel now remains - time TBC, emails will be sent out. Well, I guess there's still clean-up to do....

(With a great rumble, the mighty Zeus rears his head for a final time this game.)

AT THE CLOSE OF THE GAME, I APPLAUD THE DUELLISTS, AND COMMISERATE THOSE WHO MADE IT THIS FAR BUT NO FURTHER. FOR YOU, I OFFER CONDOLENCES, AND A BOLT OF PURE THUNDER. YES, THUNDER. QUESTION ME NOT. IT'S STILL LETHAL AND THAT'S WHAT MATTERS. Baloo (Daniel Storisteanu), Little J (Justin Christopher Yang), Laufi (Laura Theresa Lea Brandt), ( ͡° Í?Ê? ͡°) AKA Kappa (Louise Davies), Shifty (Paul Cosgrove), Bath Brawler (Robert Calvert), AND O_O (Zhongyang Gu); YOUR TIME HAS COME. ALSO Doc (Twm Stone), I'M EXECUTING YOU TOO.


With that, I'm very pleased to announce the surviving Duellists are Kimberley Ward, Steph Potten, Alex Hibbert and Joe Tomkinson. Best of luck in the Duel!

Oh, of course, the Police War too. Final results are a clear victory for the Light Side! Congratulations to them for killing 3 Dark Side members. The Dark Side's score was 1 Light Side member, and 1 fellow Dark Side member. *slow clap*

Wednesday, 2 December

[14:00 PM] Duel report!

Snow White reports:

Twas a bright and thankfully unstormy day, when the duellists met to battle to the end. Four there were. Alex Hibbert, complete with top hat, Joe Tomkinson, complete with attack animals, Kimberley Ward, complete with backpacked water-pack, and Steph Potten, complete with tennis-ball boulder.

The duellists (and spectators) were shown the in-bounds area, consisting of a small block of streets, and each duellist was placed at a different corner. At 2.15, the duel was officially started. Water was the weapon of choice for Kim, as was stealth, who quickly went to ground in disguise and subtlety. Joe was armed with pretty much everything and anything he could find, while Alex favoured water and nerf guns and Steph quickly stuck with nerf guns.

Despite firefighting over a car for a while, there were no quick deaths. It became apparent to Joe that both Steph and Alex were gunning for him together, but he held his own, often via flight. Kim meanwhile had yet to play her hand. Eventually, while engaged in single combat down a side-street, Alex managed to land a hit upon Joe. A duellist was dead! At this point, Kim had recently struck, engaging in light combat with Steph before the two split again.

The alliance between Steph and Alex continued to hold, with both backing Kim down a single street. But Kim's prowess with her watergun kept both at bay, while attempting to persuade the two to betray each other while they could.

At 3.45, an hour and a half into the duel, the stalemate has gone on too long. At my order, the duellists retired to Jesus Green itself, relinquishing all weapons bar a single-shot pistol and five bullets each. As the sun began to set, the duel was restarted.

Kim was now at a disadvantage, with two pistols pointed at her one. But on the other hand, all the bullets were heading to her, and Alex was soon out of ammo, with only Steph providing covering fire. But the shifting of positions around the field allowed him to retrieve a couple from the ground, giving the pair the strength to close in on Kim, her losing a leg in the process, and soon with Steph's shot finally ending her life.

As apparently was agreed before the duel, Alex and Steph wished to settle their final duel with lightsabers, which I agreed to. As Duel Of The Fates played over the Green, blows were struck, both seeming equally matched until Steph's dominant arm was lost. Unable to fight effectively, she attempted to throw her lightsaber to catch Alex off-guard. [Note: illegal play, swords may not be thrown.] The legality mattered not, as she failed to land the blow, leaving Alex open to strike her as she scrambled for a weapon.

And thus the Duel was won, and thus the sun was set. All hail Alex Hibbert, MA!

Seratos reports:

Hello, my friend.

If you are reading this, I am dead, and my contingency plans put in place for this event did not fail to deliver this letter to you.

Do not mourn for me. I faced overwhelming odds, and I held out as long as I could. Where alliances failed, I used stealth. Where stealth failed, I used firepower. When firepower was removed from me, I danced; my pistol flashed orange in the fading light of dusk.

But two on one using unfamiliar weaponry was too much for even me. My left leg gave out first, and though I fought on for a few minutes more, nanospeed claimed my life... then lost hers shortly after in a lightsaber battle with The Gentleman.

If only she'd have backstabbed him at any point during the TWO HOURS they spent allied hunting me, then maybe it would have gone better for her.

At least the cookies were nice.

For now, the afterlife calls, and I must retake my rightful dominion over Hell itself. Take care, Assassins, for I shall return to the land of the living stronger than I left it. I hope you are prepared.

With Kindest Regards,

The paper bursts into flickering red and yellow flames that lick harmlessly against your skin, and soon nothing is left of it but a pile of ash in your hands.

The Gentleman reports:

Dear King Umpire,

The final conflict is over, and I still stand, although my infinitely worthy foes do not any more. I feel not triumph, but a sense of emptiness. I have seen too much bloodshed, seen too many good people who I trust go to their deaths, some by my urging and due to my foolishness and frivolity. The duel was exactly as I had envisaged it, a final clash of wills to a soaring theme, watched over by the souls of the dead and some few members of the living. And I... survived. My disbelief still outweighs any triumph that might be felt at this turn of events. I had hoped to perhaps lose myself in glorious battle, avenge my lady-friend and go and join her. But the event turned out very differently.

It began as the sun tended towards the first hour of the afternoon. Orders given from Miss White decreed that we materialise on the Green of Jesus at the second hour. I, being a good Gentleman arrived one hour previous to this time (which was totally not a failure of my time-telling ability: the sun doesn't just read itself, you know), and walked around this peaceful place. Birds flew into the trees which dotted the area. Children played games of the foot and ball (a sport which has notably decreased in violence since I partook in it, many years ago). I took solace in that I would at least end my time on God's good earth with innocence and the beauty of nature before my eyes. Seeing that I was perhaps too early even for a Gentleman, I returned to the chapel to pray for my lady-friend's soul. Mine, I fear, is long beyond redemption.

I returned to that glad field closer to the designated time. Arrayed before me stood both the living and the dead, and Snow White stood among them. I thought perhaps I saw familiar ghosts dart around, but could not focus on them. The dead seemed in a good humour, and pleasant words were exchanged about days past in their life. I, who must soon join them, greatly enjoyed the opportunity to converse with the experience gathered here. The only living person remaining besides Miss White was Miss Potten, with whom I exchanged comradely words. We held ourselves a little apart from the masses- the smell of rotting flesh being slightly repulsive to one's nose- until called upon to join the throng. We awaited, and another live player walked into the park, the green grass being now darkened by the presence of so much unholiness on it. He held in his hand a large gun, and removed more from his bag as he spoke with us. This gentleman, it seemed, came prepared. I adjusted my own gun, regretting its use. And yet needs must when the devil vomits in your kettle.

Then from the some direction came hence the devil herself. I averted my eyes and shuddered. Within me, the darkness rose in answer to the terror that stood before us, mocking me for my honour and dignity, for here stood the devil as one of the contestants! How could I combat the powers of Hell, I who had violated the Ten Commandments in at least three ways? God had rightly forsaken me. I was doomed. I looked at the grim silver mask of the individual standing beside her, no doubt named Belial, and shuddered. I had hoped to master this challenge, but it seemed I was doomed to fail. I hoped only that I would linger for a brief time in Purgatory, and that Iblis would not take me directly to Hell, as was his right.

Snow White spoke then, congratulating on us all surviving until this time. We were then taken to the square of streets where we must duel to the death. Each of us were posted to four corners, and when her arm fell, fight we must. I took the opportunity to say a last prayer. In the distance, I thought I could see the ghost of my long-lost friend Ben riding towards me. I knew him to be long-buried, though, and focussed my mind on the present. The arm fell. The game was afoot.

I moved rapidly up towards Joe, knowing him to be the best-equipped fighter. He fell back before me, and we engaged in a protracted firefight over parked cars. Neither could gain an advantage, our weapons having similar ranges, and so we remained locked in combat, pinned in place. Fortuitously the devil had disappeared, and so I did not have her coming up behind me, which was my true fear. Potshots were taken with pistols, and as the combat wore on, he deployed that most fearsome of creature, the attack animal, in arcing shots, but they failed to strike. I noted a movement in a side alley, and hoped against hope that it was not Mephistopoles. It was not- it was instead Miss Potten. Miss Potten, whose fearsome reputation in combat, honourable nature and excellent conversation had given rise to an alliance which had been finalised but the day before. Miss Potten, my ally. I smiled, and indicated with hand signals to flank. We pressed him back into the street, approaching close, but gaining no advantage.

Eventually, I communicated that I would depart and attempt to flank. Miss Potten advised me to beware, for Miss Ward was now wearing not the outfit of a devil, but of a blonde lady with pink trousers. I thanked her, and cautiously navigated the internal maze of closed alleys, where one turn round a corner could lead to facing down the barrel of a gun. I emerged into a wider street, and moved round to the end, attempting to come behind Joe, where Miss Potten had him pinned. Then a figure at the end of the street, patrolling, was before me, in pink trousers. I reacted, retreating rapidly to the relative cover of a car. She waved cheerily, and invited me closer. I declined politely, and we remained in this position for some time. Eventually, I retreated, as did she, and I ran through alleys to try and cover her before she confronted Miss Potten. As I reached the end of the alley, a figure blurred across it, firing a single shot just as I fired my stream of water. The bullet whined past my head, too accurately for comfort, and I retreated to the end of the cut-through, and enquired as to whether he was dead. Snow White's clear and cold voice came back "I am afraid so". I relaxed a little, and moved on, reloading as I did. I then checked for immediate danger, and communed with Steph, hoping that she would receive the message and adjust her tactics accordingly. Only Kim now remained, not a devil, but merely a mortal woman. I dared to hope that perhaps my fight would be against the mortal, not the immortal, for the first time in many days.

I emerged round a corner to find Kim standing at the opposite end of the street where I had left her. About her were some of the dead, with whom she was communing. She again waved when she spotted me, and invited me onwards. Our stalemate continued, until Miss Potten approached the adjacent street towards her, whereupon she retreated, inviting us to kill one another. We nodded briefly as we met, and Miss Potten continued in pursuit, as I moved down to corner our adversary. All seemed complete, and yet came the rub, for our flanking was not effective. We had her trapped, yet could not hit her. Our superior range was negated by the wind removing all accuracy, and if we came closer, she could shoot us. Many remarks were exchanged ("Will you come closer?" "No, I'm fine where I am, thank you..."/"How much ammo do you have?" "Sufficient."/"You could just turn on one another! Why don't you? It would be so easy to shoot each other." "We trust each other. It's not going to happen."). I once looped round to trap her, but as I did so, she pushed Miss Potten back and was able to remove herself up the street. We followed, and repeated the sequence from earlier. It seemed that she had an infinite supply of water, while our bullets were finite, although we had the range. Ben's ghost behind me urged me on, but the skies grew darker. Our time was short.

Miss White, perhaps displeased with the lack of bloodshed, called us over, and announced that to speed things up, we should move to Jesus Green, where we would be given a pistol and five shots, an allotted space, and the best wishes of all present. We loaded up, and then the dance began again. Kim was flanked by we allies, but we could not risk closing lest one of us die prematurely, and so circled. I exhausted many of my bullets in a single exchange, and bluffed until I could retrieve more rounds. One of Miss Potten's shots took her in the leg. Eventually, it ended- around the spreading tree, I pursued as Kim hopped, Kim retreated back my way, missed me with a shot, fired at Miss Potten and failed to dodge a shot, which took her in the chest. It was over. The one who had seemed as a devil, who had held off two with the weapons of one, was dead. A worthy foe was ended.

Miss Potten and I laid down our weapons, as we had agreed. Thanking one another, we resolved to end this in a glorious battle of lightsabers. Her green thrummed into life, my red did likewise. We squared off, as in the background, some music (perhaps Duel of the Fates) started. Miss White dropped her arm. We lunged and stabbed at one another as the music grew, hopping backwards and forwards, at some times one pressing the other and at other times, the other having the advantage. I change my lightsaber to my left hand, prompting an "I am not left handed!" remark as I switched it to my right. We fought for a time, which seemed like many minutes, until our lightsabers grew heavy in our hand. Miss Potten was a skilled swordswoman, and we held each other at bay for a while, but then she saw an opportunity to end it, and threw her lightsaber at me. It went awry, and as she rolled for it, I bought my blade down into her back. Miss Potten was no more.

I knelt to pay my respects to the departed. About us were the dead, and the ghosts, and Miss White. With a sigh and a wave, she restored Miss Potten to life. She declared me a Master Assassin, bowed her head in respect, and allowed me to depart. I distributed cookies around the assembled, placing many on the grave of the honourable lady who had fought beside and against me so well, in a truly dizzying finish, conversed more, and eventually walked away from the assemblage, my head spinning with thoughts. What was I to do now? Where might I go? My lady-friend was dead, my vengeance had nothing more to work upon, and now Miss White had triumphed in her game, leaving only me truly alive, nothing more could I do to fight the undead. It was all in vain. It has been a most entertaining game nevertheless, full of its own tensions, dramas, experiences to carry with for many years hence. But now I must leave Cambridge. I have seen too much here. The Gentleman will no more come here. I know not whence I will go, I know only that I shall. I thank everyone that reads this for partaking in this experience, be you dead or alive.

I leave you now, with one last poem, in memory of my lady-friend, and Seratos who was, and of Joe and of Miss Potten, and Ben, and Geraldine Barker, and Transparent Ghost, and all those others lost in time like the passage of leaves on an autumn's day. Fare you all well, in all your endeavours, wheresoever you may find yourself, and I bid you- remember the Gentleman, and learn from me, as you go to infinity.

It has ended as it must,
With lightsabers at dusk.
Now I stand victorious,
but was I the most meritorious?

Joe was a warrior who I know not,
Killed mathmos he did, and killed a lot.
At the fight in the fields at the end of the war,
A water beam hit him and he killed no more.

Kimberley Ward was a hard lady to catch,
With deception of a level which is hard to match.
Changing clothes in the duel, she fought like a fury,
In the end, Steph shot her and gained victory.

Now Miss Potten we come to last, for you see,
We worked for a conflict of glorious finality.
Though we duelled to gain the other's end,
Alone of them all, she became my friend.

On balance, my achievement was fair,
But this place must I forebear.
Bereft without my lady-friend,
I must now depart and seek an end.

Wher'ere the road takes me,
No more here shall I be.
Cambridge is behind me tonight,
I leave, exit, and take my flight.

I remain,
The Gentleman (MA)

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