The Assassins' Guild - Week 3 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 3 NewsSteamed Broccoli reports:
After successfully evading the police after lectures yesterday thanks to a police wiretap [Corruption in my Police force? Surely not... -TG], killed Shadowslayar at 9.55 today. The victim got off the bike and was stabbed on his way to his lecture
Detritus reports:
[Hmm. Might have found our informant. Will get the CoPs on it... -TG]
Steamed Broccoli reports:
Hearing from a mole in the chemistry department I heard that Shadowslayar has Saturday chemistry lectures periodically.
As he cycled towards the chemistry department I had anion him.
It was a Bohring basic kill done with a knife.
His reaction did not occur fast enough and soon he was diene and I argon. [Aah, the puns, the puns! -TG]
L reports:
Hi!
It's me again, this time I have managed to kill Sh'ma Yisrael at his staircase with a ruler labeled "fanciful small sword". (To be fair it's a fanciful ruler) I saw a guy coming out of the gyp room and asked if he's Sh'ma Yisrael, and calmly he replied "Yes, kill me." However he claimed that he has already been killed the night before, but my list is not updated. Does this count as a kill? [That would clarify who was involved in the event last night: it does indeed count as as kill, as the weapon used last night was improperly labelled -TG]
Cheers,
L
[Please note that I do not approve of wantonly accepting death: if you wish to resign from the game, you need only email me -TG]
Tinkerbell reports:
Someone came up behind me and poked my arm with his phone and said I was dead. He walked away before I could ask him for his name.
[I later got reports that GreyBlur was the anonymous assassin here, having tried to work out who it was for several days! -TG]
Kirin Jindosh reports:
Kirin Jindosh emerged into the October 'sunshine' after another tortuous Saturday lecture. One of his companions called over a friend, The General. With the benefit of hindsight, he looked fairly sheepish. 'Hello Kirin,' he said. He then removed a nerf jolt and uttered the infamous words "I am your assassin" [No, I AM YOUR FATHER -TG] before the trigger was pulled. Kirin would like to thank The General for allowing him to survive up until now since there were several prime opportunities over the last three weeks when it would have been oh so easy for The General to kill Kirin when Kirin was visiting their mutual friend. Without such mercy, the giraffe kill would never have been actualised.
Kirin Jindosh
The General reports:
Hi,
This morning at 11:00 I assassinated my target, Kirin Jindosh, with a nerf gun as we were coming out of a [REDACTED] lecture.
Thanks,
The General
The Gentleman reports:
Today dawned bright and cheery, the perfect weather conditions for the brutal massacre of as many incompetents as possible (with post-death cookies).
The first event, at Queens' Backs, proved good fun, with several all-on-all matches to practice for the day ahead. The Gentleman retired to the Granta at 13:00 and enjoyed a quick lunch of scampi while others turned up, coalescing around 14:00. We divided into teams to cover various areas of the city, and set off around 14:15
The teams were as follows:
Individual reports will follow: every live player that turned up will get 7 days of competency (well done!); and I can say for my team that we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves!
The Angel reports:
I was shot by an assassin (name unknown).
When I was walking out of my kitchen gyp, an assassin in a suit (unknown name) with an accomplice shot me with a small nerf gun.
However, apparently I wasn't his given target, he shot me for being incompetent. But when I pointed out it's not 14:30 yet (which I was very aware of because I was supposed to be somewhere at that time and was running late, so I counted every minute) he said it is according to his clock.
I've checked the time immediately, on both my watch, but more importantly on my mobile phone (which takes the time from the network provider, i. e. should be most accurate and not a subject of different people's watch differences) and it still showed 14:29, which both I and my assassin saw.
Best
The Angel
Detritus reports:
While in [REDACTED COLLEGE] for some independent business, I fortuitously had some time off at the point at which we all received our umpirical mandate to eliminate those individuals who cared not for the ways of our order. Scanning the list for those close to me, I quickly set out for one in particular proximity - and to my enormous good fortune, he happened to pass me by outside his staircase! My associate, endemic to the above college, was quick to point out that, despite having dyed his hair, this was the gentleman we sought. Turning around, we followed him into his residence - rummaging frantically for the key to let us in the door - and I fired a single shot to his stomach as he turned to face us. Due to a difference in the accuracy of our timekeeping devices, it is unknown, at time of writing, whether the pre-bash force field had yet lifted - we await a verdict on this one.
[Part of this was my error: a copy of the inco list had been leaked a couple of hours early, which Detritus had then used to identify The Angel as a target. However, the actual list didn't go live for a few minutes after 14:30, and, as ever, incompetents and wanted people are only valid while on the list precisely to prevent disputes like this. Therefore, this kill is annulled, but Detritus will not be going corrupt (since it would have been a perfectly licit kill a few minutes later. -TG]
Theophilus Reginald Inglebury-Fleming reports:
Dear Umpire,
Despite an elaborate ambush designed for anyone who came to murder me (a substitute for my poor offensive effort this term), I have perished at the hands of two murderers. I had left my outer door open, with a bin directly behind it to alert me of any intruders who tried to enter. Thus when the inner door was opened I was in position behind a barricade I had prepared in my room. I surprised the intruders with a shot from my pistol, but alas I hit the first assailant's hand, which was blown off. However, he was also armed in his other hand, so before I realised that he still lived, he had deployed his lightsaber and stabbed me in the ribs before I had a chance to finish him off with my trusty pet, Percival the Pernicious Platypus of Peril. The other attacker looked on idly while I crumpled in a heap on the floor. Ever loyal, Percival wept at my side as his master's life ebbed away.
I would be honoured to join the police, partly for Percivalâ??s sake. It has been too long since my murderous monotreme minion enjoyed the sweet, chicken-like taste of human flesh on his highly refined palate.
Your faithful, failed and now fallen psycho,
Hani
Detritus reports:
I climbed the stairs to his chambers, accompanied by a trusty weapons-packhorse friend, came upon a long, empty corridor. The wind whistled through the windows, and a tumbleweed rolled across the linoleum. Creeping up to his front door, it lay ajar, and swung open at a touch. Two more doors lay in front of us - and it was quiet; too quiet.
The first door revealed nothing but an empty kitchen.
The second was pushed closed, but unlocked - a scarf hung from it - a signal? Throwing it open, a crash resounded from behind it - I believe we had sprung an intruder-detection system - but the room was empty.
Creeping in, wondering where the ambush lay, a tuft of hair was visible from behind an armchair positioned in front of the entrance. I imagined I heard a chuckle, even. Dashing to the chair, the trap was sprung from behind it - I fired a shot which went wide, but the defender managed to catch me with a bullet in my shooting hand. Luckily for me, wisdom and aforethought had led me to arm myself in both left and right hands - and the incompetent Hani was finished off with a lightsabre to the torso.
Shrike reports:
Went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 1], Innocent was out, went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 2], Feynman was out, went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 3], Countess Wells was out, we couldn't get to herself by occidunt's room. Bumped into "Duke Leto of Arrakis" there, and received cake. Gentleman's Fury et al departed. On the way to Lady Pierce's room, Rook recognised her in the street and I stabbed her, leaving her to go on her way as I dropped a cookie in her pigeon hole. Sir Lucius Resurrectus joined us. We went to [REDACTED COLLEGE N], where we found Agatha Heterodyne's door unlocked; I went into her room, to find it empty until a head popped out of what I think was an en suite bathroom, so I shot her in the forehead [Very appropriate for the pseudonym... -TG]. She declined cookies [Slightly less in-character for the pseudonym].
As we were leaving, The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head and Mutton Choppington and his strange contraption that emits an ethereal glow and very occasionally jets of steam joined us in the hallway, also hoping to kill her. The 5 of us went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 4], The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head walking into TheKillerQueen's unlocked room, and shooting her. Mutton Choppington and his strange contraption that emits an ethereal glow and very occasionally jets of steam furnished her with a white chocolate cookie. We couldn't get into Jack Daniels's room. Mutton Choppington and his strange contraption that emits an ethereal glow and very occasionally jets of steam departed.
We decided to have another go at [REDACTED COLLEGE 2], going through [REDACTED COLLEGE 3]on the way. I convinced a passer-by to let us into herself by occidunt's court. Marcus Kenway, Cornelius Grey and Countess Wells were coming out of the building as the 4 of us went in. We went to herself by occidunt's room to find him not in, and were leaving when we bumped into the 3 from earlier. I asked if herself by occidunt was in, and we were led into a trap and subsequently murdered. [Impressive.]
Iracebeth reports:
As soon as I heard the ring of the doorbell, I knew they'd found me; I grabbed my knife and cautiously walked along the corridor. Spotting a figure lurking behind the door, I began to approach. Unfortunately there was another officer waiting in a corner just before the door. Taking me by surprise, I heard an alarming 'bang' and it was over before I could launch my attack. The only blessing is that it was a quick and merciful death (followed by a grateful receipt of Maltesers). I'm aware you will devastated by my untimely demise.
Until next time,
Iracebeth xoxo
The Diarist reports:
We gained entry to Zoe's accommodation under a ruse of visiting her with chocolate (not actually a ruse) and I hid around a corner while Lyra rang the bell. Zoe must have been anticipating this since she left her room clutching a knife, but I surprised her from around the corner and shot her before she could react. I escaped injury, but narrowly.
Lyra Silvertongue reports:
Got the bus to the Hill with The Diarist. Dumped excess kit in my room. Knocked on the [REDACTED'S] door(s) - no response. Went to attack [REDACTED COLLEGE]. Perfected the strategy: we buzzed a person-who-was-not-our-target to let us in, and then with one of us in and one of us out, buzzed our target's room. They crept out of their room, crept down their corridor towards the cardlock they knew their assassin was waiting outside - and were promptly Bang-killed by The Diarist who was in fact already *inside* the lock. Shame only one of the [REDACTED DENIZENS OF SAID COLLEGE] was in, but they accepted their consolation Malteasers with grace.
The Diarist reports:
Haigh was unlucky - I went in there alone and sparsely armed, not knowing what he looked like, and not only was his address on the spreadsheet wrong (it was temporary accommodation he's now moved out of) [Oops. Keeping things updated is hard -TG], but his actual accommodation was completely inaccessible. I figured it was a lost cause and decided to leave, considering using my [REDACTED COLLEGE] contact to gain entry later. However, as I walked out I idly asked a student what Haigh looked like; his response matched up to a guy I'd seen leaving Haigh's accommodation. I went around the back of college and saw Haigh walking quickly out of college. I pursued him down the road (sprinting quietly is HARD) before slipping behind him through a gate and shooting him in the back.
Lydia Boyle reports:
Went on the incobash with Mutton Choppington and his strange contraption that emits an ethereal glow and very occasionally jets of steam and The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head. Entered [REDACTED BUILDING] and waited ready to shoot if the knocked on door was opened, no answer. Went to next person's room. Person who looked very much like target loitering in corridor outside. Still unsure whether that person was target. Knocked again and waited at distance in case potential target returned. Again no response. Scoped out room full of puppies to see if either target was there [Dawww, puppies? Admit it, you just wanted to look at the puppies -TG], targets where not there. Attempted to access [REDACTED HOSTEL] but door closed to quickly after people used it to gain access. Had to abandon my team due to non-assassin related concerns.
The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head reports:
Left the Granta at 1425 with my team. The first half of the day was not entirely productive as both doors in [REDACTED ACCOMODATION] were locked. After extensive searching, we managed to find the [ALSO REDACTED ACCOMODATION]. After extensive waiting, we tailgated our way in. This proved to be a waste of time as all four targets were out with locked rooms. Not to be deterred, we then joined Michael's team at [REDACTED COLLEGE 1] where they had just killed the inco there. My hopes were high as we headed to [REDACTED COLLEGE 2] where after seven attempts I finally scored a kill on Melissa Jones. A team member left at this point. The four of us decided to have an end to a good day by visiting [REDACTED COURT]. Little did we realise how permanent that end would be. [Dramatic foreshadowing! -TG]
After totally not suspiciously entering the Court, we asked directions to herself by occidunt's room. Unfortunately we ended up asking three of his friends, who were all assassins, all of whom were concealing fairly large guns. After giving us bogus directions and backing us into a corner (not my proudest moment I must say) the four of us got gunned down hard, though Shrike managed to fire one round beforehand - missing. [How much am I paying my CoPs again?] To add insult to injury, it was revealed that those bringing the team down were 2/3 incompetent themselves. Thus does my game end, I wish them all luck..
Shrike reports:
Following on from my previous report (in which I asked if herself by occidunt was in and they began to guide me there), I assumed my guides were assassins too because they were wandering around in a 3 with one of them holding a rolled up bit of paper (I didn't see a label), but I thought our lack of weapons would stop them killing us. We were leaving the targets hallway when they said he was in a different room (Sir Lucius Resurrectus walked in, it turned out to be some randomer's room), and then they started shooting. I would guess Sir Lucius Resurrectus and Rook had weapons out then, but I didn't, and I don't think The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head did either. I don't know who was shot how, I got one in the arm and they thought I was dead. I should have kept quite and gone for my knife, but I instead drew my gun with the other hand and shot, before one stabbed me. I don't know if I hit anyone, but they said I didn't, and I have nothing to say otherwise.
[There was a certain amount of disputation about the licitness of the police as targets: I've spoken with everyone concerned; weapons were apparently clearly visible at times, and at least a couple of the bashers had weapons drawn at the time of their deaths. Combined with this being a spectacular set of kills, nobody's gone Wanted from this incident: taking out a CoP, a pair of police and an experienced player with barely enough time to get a shot off is impressive! -TG]
Cornelius Grey reports:
So... this was what the whole damn 'competition' had come to. Huddled in Kenway's room, the three so called 'assassins' had apparently failed to earn themselves more than a single kill between the three of them. Kenway had agreed to house the other two for a day while the police and the 'competent' assassins went searching for those who had simply been unable to make a single damn kill.
And somehow the other two seemed to be totally calm.
How in the hell were they totally calm?
The Countess was actually writing through some sort of... what was she writing anyway?
Days of constantly walking through doors gun first and walking back to his accommodation with one hand in his pocket and here they were, about to be murdered.
Things were meant to get easier. He actually had weapons now, weapons that localised Tesla's effect such that he could send several giga watts through a person's skin, a gun capable of firing at the rate of a machine gun, but at the size of a pistol. The inventor and tinkerer had managed to compact the technology, a series of inventions that should have revolutionised the field of warfare, if only his damned 'associates' had not chosen to have him thrown out from the college. He'd meant to be professor, an inventor, not some assassin.
But damn it all, he would survi-
"We should probably get food at some point."
He'd even had a plan to utilise a sonic weapon, designed to elicit either pleasure or pain in the human psyche and immobilise them for many days. One of his targets was meant to pass right by his accommodation... they were meant to be right there-
And then they never were. So then he'd sent a letter to a second target, attempting to organise a duel so that at least one of them could survive. He had a plan to-... well, his associates were wrong to shun him. He'd prove them wrong... he'd use his inventions to win this 'competition', or at least, he'd show that they weren't worthless... and then even if he died, his legacy would have changed... he'd sunk as low as he possibly could, but he had nowhere to go but up now.
And then, here they were... even getting food was dangerous.
But there was nothing else for it. Such was the way of the world. Cornelius put his notes aside, slipped a currently inactivated glove onto his hand and set out after the two.
This was the way his life was going to end.
He was halfway out through the door when Kenway, always the most eagle eyed of the three, poked Grey in the side.
"You did notice that they all were armed, right? All four of them? And they had a list of faces." [In clear view? [CENSORED] -TG]
The colour drained from Cornelius' face... but then, maybe this was the ideal situation for him. They hadn't recognised him... they had no clue who he was... and they'd walked past all three of them.
He spoke seven words that were about to change the course of four lives.
"Do you both want to kill them"
Damn, he didn't have his gun on him... they'd have to go back to Kenway's accommodation to get it. They'd have to rely on melee weapons or else they'd have to make their way past the four genuine professional assassins. Then again, he had two assassins with him who were meant to be professional. Even if he was a fraud attempting to prove that his theories could be weaponised, Kenway and Wells actually knew what they were doing, right?
And if worst came to worst, he could improvise.
He'd probably have to improvise. But he'd talked his way through one situation, he could do it again. Last time, he'd done the talking for Kenway's kill... now though, although Grey didn't know it, Kenway was about to show that he wasn't just good at stabbing things.
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Wells cursed her upper-class manners - four trained killers, and she'd just let them into a building housing civilians and assassins alike, simply passing them the open door. The documents in their hands - they'd borne the crest of the Guild. Had they stolen the papers? Or was this on orders from above? Had the Umpire, the Gentleman himself, decided to have them eliminated?
She stuck to the rear of the group as they returned to Kenway's rooms. The four killers seemed to be having some trouble locating their targets. It was strange - they didn't seem to have realised that any of the three were assassins. Of course, since Kenway had proven himself competent, he wouldn't have been a target - but they should have had full dossiers on both herself and Grey. Unless... Unless her numerous aliases had worked? Was it possible they hadn't realised that the three polite strangers were their enemies?
Back in the rooms, they discussed what they'd seen. Grey was able to offer the most insight - there were multiple police officers in the group, including the Chief of Police himself. Tactics were discussed as they distributed weaponry. Wells favoured the craftmanship of a dagger, but Grey wanted to use his funny contraptions. It hardly seemed wise, especially in a fight against such experienced killers, but she let it slide. If he got himself killed, then at least that was a moment when a gun wasn't being trained on her.
They strode out into the corridor, ready for a fight - and it was then that Kenway's particular talent with words came into its own.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh, hey there"
Just making small talk, nothing to worry about. It's not like Kenway was talking to four completely inconspicuous strangers he had never seen before.
"Have you seen Lewis?"
Why, of course, after all they had been having tea together just a few minutes ago. Showing the four strangers the way seemed like the British way, so it was an easy decision.
"Oh, yeah, he's just over here, follow me!"
A stare says more than a thousands words and Grey and Wells instantly knew what to do. Leaving the room together, Kenway quickly made up a plan for the perfect ambush. He knew that there was an empty room just a few corners away, they would never see it coming. Concealing his knife in his pocket, he led the way, four assassins in his trail. Kenway checked out their weapons with a knowing glance, establishing the obvious superiority of the raiding party's firepower. The element of surprise would have to do, after all they seemed to trust him completely. If only they knew...
"Hey Cornelius, how do you feel about shooting some strangers?"
A quick glance told him that he didn't even need to ask, Grey wouldn't miss such a perfect opportunity to use his trusted gun. Under the pretence of holding open a door, Grey managed to get to rear end of the party and followed them quietly.
"He's just in here, having family tea"
The door wasn't locked and the room was unoccupied at the moment. One of the four assassins slowly opened the door, expecting their target to be inside. They didn't even see Grey drawing his gun before breathing in fresh air for the last time.
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Well, if ever there was a time to panic, now was definitely not it... now was the time for action, for calmly acting and... why the hell couldn't his legs stay straight, huh?
Grey was absolutely certain that the group was going to notice them... Kenway was being too obvious... they were going to notice the bulge under his coat... they'd think his hood looked funny and shoot him for it... they'd notice that the countess had a dagger up her sleeve, or they'd think her coat seemed out of place... or they'd find Kenway's accent annoying. They'd notice his legs shaking... he'd hold his breath for too long and draw attention to himself... he'd drop his gun... something had to go wrong. It couldn't be this easy.
They'd be quicker than him if he tried to shoot them. He was no assass-
Actually, over the past several days, Grey had spent hours tinkering with his gun, adjusting the mechanism, aiming down the sight, firing and then tinkering again. He might not have been a master assassin, but when it came to that gun, he knew it better than anybody else alive.
It was simply a vector problem, a vector problem that he'd solved so many times that his mind did it almost subconsciously by now.
He had six shots... that was the capacity of 'Sheila'. But they could be fired all within one second... as fast as he could aim, he could fire. There were four enemies. Grey flicked his little finger against one catch, then held down the trigger, telling the gun to fire on a semi automatic mode, every time it primed. He then fired his first shot, aimed again, then fired again.
"One, two, three-"
Damn, that last one was still alive. Grey's aim was moving on anyway, subconsciously changing target straight after shooting. So far, less than a second had passed.
"Four."
Kenway was moving. Grey readjusted his aim and frantically tried to figure out who to shoot next... the guy who had survived... he was the priority, right?
"Fi-"
He was halfway through pulling the trigger when Kenway got in the way of his shot.
"Move damn it!"
There was a crack from Grey's right. One of the three men had managed to get a shot off, even as he died apparently. Had his death simply not caught up with him yet? Kenway ducked, the bullet passing harmlessly behind him.
How in the world did a person move fast enough to dodge a bullet?
Grey moved his aim at the man who had shot, just in case his first shot had indeed been off. At almost the same time that the countess moved to stab them.
"Five."
One and a half seconds... that was how long Grey had taken to analyse the exact threat posed by each man and send a bullet into every one of them, even if two weren't fatal apparently.
Right, there was one mor-
Or not. The final man fell back as Kenway pocketed a now blood stained knife.
It was only then that Grey allowed himself to actually inhale, his legs gave out from under him and he sunk to the floor.
He had one more shot, and he almost wanted to keep hold of it... but the next thing he knew, he'd shot one of the dead bodies again.
He then put down his gun and started shaking.
But apparently, he'd once again, survived.
----------------------------------------------------
"... Did you guys just massacre my police team? I'm extremely impressed."
Cornelius had only just recovered from the encounter when Kenway seemed to hear a voice in the back of his mind. Now, Grey's first response was to call him out for hearing strange voices, then the Gentleman's voice resounded through his own mind.
"So, you were involved in a glorious counter bash, eh"
It was at that moment that the glorious Gentleman himself gloriously descended, parting the clouds in a glorious manner and descending upon them gloriously upon two clockwork wings. Cornelius found himself overcome with the glory of the whole glorious image. (Yes, we might be sucking up a bit here). [No, no, carry on... -TG]
For a moment, Cornelius felt an urge to draw a weapon on the Gentleman. In fact, despite how glorious the great Umpire's form was, he still couldn't help but feel paranoid enough to at least point 'Sheila' at the glorious figure before him.
The Gentleman gloriously smiled and then did gloriously extend his glorious powers of protection around. Almost instantly, Cornelius felt at ease and ungloriously re holstered his weapon.
The three somehow managed to less than gloriously relate their tale to the Gentleman, who gloriously sat, and then offered a glorious flapjack to each one of them, before gloriously re-donning his clockwork wings of glory, then walked through the door of their accommodation in a manner that much approached a glorious one.
And then he gloriously departed, leaving nothing but an image of glory behind him (and flapjacks, which also, upon later testing, turned out to be pretty damn glorious too... seriously, where can we get more of those (glorious) things?).
Sors immanis et inanis, rota tu volubilis,
status malus, vana salus, semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata et velata mihi quoque niteris,
nunc per ludum dorsum nudum fero tui sceleris
Mad-emoiselle reports:
Made approx 12 attempts on the incobash - thanks for letting me borrow the jolt! [No problem]
- Mad-emoiselle
The Gentleman reports:
[A factual report, for once. Fanciful must, alas, await another day...]
We made wide sweep of Cambridge today, passing by several pleasant places. Regrettably, many people were out, and unable to accept the large box of flapjack which I carried around for the duration. We did succeed in leaving some in the room of The Angel, who seemingly demateralised, leaving their room unlocked. The Steam Powered Giraffe left a message in the shape of a teddy bear, tragically impaled on a rubber sword found in the room.
Later, after around an hour of searching, we moved on to another area. I had not quite realised how beautiful the gardens of [REDACTED LOCATION] were until I had beheld them myself. But Air Marshal Luther Abbotts-Birdwhistle proved absent, so we walked over to the nearby building and looked at the window until an unusually friendly resident who had a clear view of the entrance came down to let us in, without prompting. We took advantage of this, and located the room of CalmCavity. As the resurrectable member of our party, I knocked, and was promptly let in. With the civilised cry of 'raaarrr', I stabbed him with a pen marked knife, and we proceeded to converse over flapjack, as my allies looked on.
That marked nearly the end of the afternoon: we continued until around 17:45. A fun day's traverse around town, all in all, with excellent company.
Detritus reports:
Called in on my way to formal. Concealing a lightsabre and a nerf gun under my gown, nobody was home; until I turned around in the corridor and found Feynman just entering the staircase. I asked him if he was Feynman, and he said nothing, looking torn - but Caligula, his companion who was known to me, chuckled, and so I fired my gun.
Steamed Broccoli reports:
Alpaca knife as I leave. I would say I didn't stab him on porpoise but then I'd be lion. I got otter there pretty quick after the kill and I feel like I've gained many koalafications by playing this game. Toadally.
[David Attenborough is apparently an alumnus of the college, hence the animal puns]
Captain Albert Alexander reports:
The early steampunk-inspired-animal gets the murder; after waiting a reasonable amount of time for the humans to do their sleeping, I set off into the mist of [REDACTED] court. The target was someone who lived through the incobash by the clever ruse of not turning up to their own killing, forcing us to just leave an innocent animal impaled on his bed. This time, he was on the bed, and so I recreated the scene, stabbing him with his own sword as he woke up.
Steam Powered Giraffe reports:
Malfunctioning just fine! Thinking that the lure of brunch would bring incompetents out, I waited out of sight by a particular door. While hidden, I heard a group of my target's friends come to the door and start talking about the attempt of the last assassin (even non-players see through you claiming to do [REDACTED] at [REDACTED] and "needing to give them something, no I need to see them too") [Fascinating, I'll rebrief my police appropriately -TG]. They then wandered off and I sadly assumed my target was amongst them - so in broad daylight, i shot the person who turned round to the name being called, who was amused at being mistaken for my target before dying.
I now go wanted and hunting for salvation.
Lord Eigenvector reports:
Dear Umpire,
Today at 11:30 I made an attempt on Tinkerbell at brunch, stabbing her using a pen-knife.
However I failed to notice that she had apparently already been killed - it seems the desire for brunch is powerful enough to raise the dead.
Best,
Lord Eigenvector.
[I've not had a report of anyone killing Wahdana Bilal yet: if I don't receive it within the next day or so, I'll give the credit to Lord Eigenvector -TG]
Gentleman's Stealth reports:
Dear Gentleman,
In my capacity as a police officer I have just terminated both Fr. Filigree conDoin and Lord Forgetful of [REDACTED COLLEGE], as they walked into hall for lunch.
Wish me luck as I work my way through the local incompetents!
Gentleman's Stealth
Cornelius Grey reports:
"You don't leave the side of one of us from now on, is that understood?"
Out of the four of them, the priest was the only member who still wasn't totally competent. Grey, Wells and Kenway had proved themselves to the gentleman not long ago, which left only Fr. himself not currently under the gentleman's protection. Not only that, but the gentleman himself had threatened the priest. [Just a little bit, you understand. To incentivise competency.] A day after the event in which Cornelius Grey had first introduced his new weapon to the purpose for its existence, he was standing beside the priest as the two of them waited in line to get food.
"So, one of my targets was just finally taken down. The next one should be easy."
Grey smiled. Maybe he wouldn't have to protect his friend for long.
"Want a hand?"
The priest smiled. "With god on my side, I need no other assistance. But if you wish to act as an instrument for his will, Grey, I see no reason to stop you."
He had no idea at the time that 'God's will' was something a little different for his friend. Cornelius turned away for a moment to place his order and collect a knife and fork. In that moment, he heard a muffled scream from behind him.
The priest dropped to the floor, a pool of blood extending from around his chest
What? But they were meant to be safe here... the only one who knew about their meeting place was-
Her.
Cornelius activated one of his gloves and stepped forward, scanning the area. He met her gaze, an ex assassin, once part of the alliance who had chosen to join the police (read: she was KIA and joined the police later).
She slowly pocketed her knife, still holding his gaze. For a moment, he considered trying to avenge his friend, but he knew Her reputation... there was no way he could out duel Her.
Instead, he dropped to the floor next to his friend and checked for a pulse.
Of course, there was nothing.
Strange... he was meant to feel something... a need for revenge, remorse, fear, something.
But over the past two weeks, he'd seen so much death. Somehow, this one just didn't mean anything to him. He slowly looked up at the police woman, knowing that he was safe from her so long as he didn't draw a weapon.
Maybe one day, when she got to hell, she'd be able to tell them that Cornelius sent her.
But that day wouldn't be today. There was nothing the inventor could do right now.
"I told you one stupid thing, you idiot... and you couldn't even follow one simple instruction."
He closed the priest's eyes with a sigh. He still felt like he should have felt something.
Apparently though, that didn't happen.
The others were not going to be happy with him.
Well, if and when he sent Her to hell, he'd have to ask her to apologise on his behalf for the inconvenience.
Fr. Filigree conDoin reports:
It was midday. Tonight was the Feast of Candles. The time when we prayed to the Brass King to save the souls of the dead and sinful. Graceful and serene the statue of an angel watched our congregation lay candles and lanterns on the altar so that she may take them to guide our dead. Her body too was full of clockwork, as fine and as fragile as the inner workings of a watch. It was said that the statue once lived as clockwork angel of the king but that it fell from grace and now a piece was missing so that it could never move again. The High father bought it off the black market, claiming it a holy relic able to draw in the masses for prayers... and tithes.
Awash in the pale oil lamps of the cathedral kitchens I eagerly watched the food be distributed. I had failed to fulfil my bargain with the guild and now their master, "The Gentleman" as he called himself, and set his "police force" upon me. Foul abominations, you could hear the clockwork that ticked in their skull and that drove them to serve him. So far I had avoided the older models as they were slow and easily tricked. This set me at ease. What a fool I was...
I gathered my food - greasy meat, stained with the oil that kept the kitchen machines running - and left for the old cathedral dining hall. Monks and friars chatted, their hands busily carving meat and bread with brass knives. Nuns sat dispersed among these, tinkering with small clockwork contraptions, readying them for the street children that they would be visiting in the slums. Clockwork filled the ceiled, chandeliers powered by this the new innovation of electric light. The steam that powered the spinning cogs and sickly light settled near the floor, forming a thin fog.
As I poured a small cup of wine a small get of steam from a nearby wall escaped, and through it walked a woman dressed as a nun. The black habit hung askew on her head and her hair obscured her face. Ticking filled the air around her and through her wall of steam a robed and reached out. Suddenly a steel blade slid out from her arm, tearing the robes to reveal a harsh melding of metal and flesh. She removed her habit, revealing her to be an old friend, killed by the Guild. Through dead eyes said, "A deal's a deal Father Filigree. The Gentleman sent me to collect the agreed price". By now steam was pouring from her mouth, her porcelain teeth hidden from view. The sound of gears moving and the blade was in my chest. My legs gave way and I fell. Blood blossomed on my robes and I fell, becoming on with the fog on the floor. As I lay dying, my friend retrieved her blade, wiping on my robes and smiled. Then, as they tended to do, the electric lights seemed to go out and everyone went quiet somehow. The only sensation in this oblivion of death was the ticking of far off clockwork and a faint light, like that of a candle off in the distance.
The Gentleman reports:
I gather from the somewhat scattered reports that Baron Aliquam II had attempted to remove this incompetent Rainbow Deth from the game, earlier in the day, but his efforts had proved unsuccessful. Later, Rainbow Deth sought out Baron Aliquam II, and they had a confusing melee with inflatable killer attack animals in which it was unclear who'd killed who first. They consulted me, and I suggested it be resolved with a duel.
In [REDACTED FELLOWS' GARDEN], the two men stood, Rainbow Deth holding a green T-rex (possibly called Michael), while Baron Aliquam II favoured a killer whale. On the count of three, the duel began. Rainbow Deth ran directly across the grass, roaring as he came, before slipping over, ending up on his knees, whereupon Baron Aliquam II hit him over the head with his whale. It took all of 10 seconds. Good job, guys.
Baron Aliquam II reports:
A tide of misfortune had swept across the city, and while the Baron was by no means immune, he was at least in a position to take advantage of the mayhem.
The same fire which had fortuitously unburdened Isaac of his life on the Baron's behalf [For reference] had smouldered un-noticed across several drizzly days, only to blaze fiercely into the surrounding structures when the sun made one of its rare appearances over the city. While the loss of life had been insubstantial, the loss of property (in particular, the loss of property owned by Mr Raptor, the Baron's foremost employer) meant that formerly generous payment deadline extensions had been reigned back in. There were many debts to collect.
Before the fire had even been extinguished, the Baron had a long list of individuals much less fortunate than himself... He arranged immediately to investigate the home of one such unfortunate debtors, who he discovered lived disturbingly close to his own home. With him the next morning was Josh Rose, the same investigator and under-praised Lawyer-Detective who had led him to the home of Isaac Wilkinson last month. And Josh brought Freddie Shwale.
Ever since enhanced animals had escaped the inner circles of the black market and (somehow) become legal, it was not uncommon to see animals outside of their natural habitats roaming the streets, usually accompanied by the doting masters rich enough to afford them. Freddie was the prime example of this phenomenon: a killer whale, bred to be as small as a large cat, suspended in a swirling bubble of water at the detective's side. Freddie was clearly pleased to see the Baron again: his steel-tipped flippers agitating the pale blue liquid within his orb. Josh had obtained him in a Detective raid on a secretarial agency which was really a front for a non-government approved mafia group. The small orca had lived a better life ever since.
"Any luck since our last trip?" Josh asked Aliquam casually once they were on their way, "I hope you replaced your weapon, who ever sold you that last one was a goddamn joke at best. Wait wait, slow down, we're here."
The pair took the last few paces along the hallway until they stood at the door of Chay Yefim Graham.
"Poor son-of-a-witch won't know what's hit-" began Josh in a derisive whisper, but his words halted mid-sentence. An ethereal ringing sound, like a distant scream, was emanating from the other side of the door. The sliver of light which crept beneath the frame was of many colours, unlike any either of the pair had seen before. Josh grunted, "I haven't drunk enough for this. Let's come back later."
The Baron agreed: perhaps two men wasn't enough to tackle such an unusual target, and Freddie seemed agitated too.
After one of the Baron's shorter local rounds, the pair (and Freddie) met up again. This time, they approached in the company of Caitlin Adams. She was a renowned quick-shot, and the Baron hoped having her on his side would add menace to his appearance in a doorway, although she refused to carry her prized weapons on what she referred to as a "trivial house call".
This time when they approached, the noises were louder, even eerier than before. To lure Chay out, Aliquam started by ripping a disconnected radiator off the wall and throwing it on the ground; the echoing clang was deafening. The screeches continued uninterrupted.
"Is this for real?" asked Caitlin sceptically. "Most wizards are more discrete than this..."
"Did you say *wizard*?" asked Josh. His eyes glinted with steel, "This chump's not a wizard, he's a good-for-nothing hoodlum. Magic this intrusive was outlawed years ago, and I've been rooting it out ever since. Let's show him the justice of Pepys." [Who?] Josh slammed his fist against the door, but of course that had no more effect than the prone radiator still ringing from its impact with the floor. Josh resorted to shouting, but the Baron put his hand on the frustrated investigator's shoulder and gently encouraged him to leave.
As Josh and Caitlin left, Josh cursing filthily, the Baron again waited patiently for an opportunity to strike. Silently he promised himself he would never commit to engaging in this kind of game full-time. The rewards, while surely carrying some satisfaction, were surely not enough to cover the investment of his own life in such dark affairs. Or maybe he just needed more practice?
After some time, the sounds began to become disconcerting. The Baron gave up, leaving as discretely as he could.
When he exited the building, he saw his accomplices. They were staring up at the window of the tavern, and Aliquam followed their gaze. There, in a window, was a suspended face, surrounded by shadow. The Baron felt the eyes pass over him and shivered. None of them stuck around after that.
Later that day, the Baron frequented his closest tavern. He had intended to meet with Josh there to discuss the next target, assuming that Chay should perhaps be left undisturbed for the time being. But when he arrived, he was surprised to find it almost empty; the few patrons whom he recognised in there seemed to deliberately avoid his gaze, although he couldn't be sure.
He was on his way to use the bathroom when he heard thumping footsteps approaching at speed. Josh burst into the tavern.
"Someone's taken Michael," he shouted as soon as he saw Aliquam. The Baron nodded.
Michael Treks was another of Josh's prized animals: a small upright reptile resembling one of the host of ancestral reptiles of antiquity, whose most entertaining skill was roller-blading. Josh had sunk a lot of his free time into making improved shoes for Michael last year...
Back at the bar shortly afterwards, Josh explained the situation. The only leads were claw marks ('definitely Michael's, no doubt about it') and the message 'Rainbow Deth' scrawled on Josh's door. The Baron shivered, remembering the floating face at the window, but assured himself and Josh that this was probably a coincidence, and that they could use Freddie's superior sense of smell to pick up the trail.
They were just leaving the tavern when Caitlin ran towards them, shouting an incoherent warning. Before she could reach them, she stopped. Her face froze. In the centre of her chest, the reflective end of a knife glittered. As she fell to the floor, her attacker was revealed, and his face was all too familiar.
"RUN PARTNER!" Shouted Josh, grabbing the Baron's arm. The Lawyer-Detective pulled the shocked debt-collector into the alley beyond the tavern, and through the first door they came to. "This is my new spot," explained Rose, "I needed to be closer to the, umm, the social life."
The words barely registered. 'What have I got myself into?' thought the Baron. Josh opened the door into the next room, and out came Freddie, teeth gnashing in his suspended orb. He clearly sensed the danger. Josh grabbed a steel flask from the counter behind the door and took a swig. His expression hardened as he swallowed.
"You know what they say, partner. Fight fire with fire, fight magic psychos with highly trained killer killer whales. I still don't know how he moves that snow-globe he floats around in... Anyway, let's kick some assassin, Freddie!"
With exploded confidence, Josh scrambled back towards the door and slammed it open, only to find Michael in the doorway. Behind him, Chay. Michael only came to Josh's knee height, but somehow he seemed to tower in entrance, his shadow long and grotesque, spilling into the room. The Baron looked on in horror as Josh reached out to his friend, only to find Michael's teeth clamped on his arm.
Chay muttered something, and Michael released his grip. The Baron didn't know what was happening, but Freddie was nudging him, urging him to go to Josh's aid as he clutched his arm on the floor. "It's supposed to make me numb dammit! How does this hurt so much?" He sobbed.
The Baron took a breath, and charged, Freddie's water orb flanking him. Michael roller-bladed effortlessly into Aliquam's path, and Freddie cannoned unimpeded towards Chay. Everything slowed down, colours drained from the scene, and the four fighters were frozen. What could this mean?
From behind a region of completely empty space, a well-dressed man stepped elegantly into the melee.
"Now now, this is far too much magic for such a cramped space. You should all know better. Let's take this somewhere else, shall we?"
No sooner had the gentleman spoken than the five of them found themselves in a lush green field. The gloom of the city persisted, but a breeze unlike any the Baron had felt in a long time made the blades of grass twitch and sway around him.
"I'll be entertained to see how this pans out," continued the figure. And then he stepped back, and everything sped back up again. Freddie missed Chay, but rolled straight back around to slam Michael away from Aliquam's chest just in time. Chay made a move forwards, growling the curses that he was presumably using to control Michael. But the Baron adjusted his stance and reached back into Freddie's globe. His hand felt the cool rush of liquid as he grabbed Freddie's tail and swung the animal back towards Chay.
Seconds later, the knees of a headless corpse slammed against the ground, followed by a bloodied and distinctly damp torso. Freddie's orb was clouded with red. Michael slipped over on his roller blades in what would under any other circumstances have been considered high-quality slapstick style.
"That was quicker than I'd imagined," sighed the gentleman. "Well, you win the day, sir." He stepped back out of the air.
Baron Aliquam II blinked, and found himself back in Josh's front room, Freddie and Michael before him, and the local doctor tending to Josh's wounds. Chay's body was nowhere to be seen. He almost cursed, that the reward for his bounty had escaped him after all that was simply too much! But now at least he could put that haunting face out of his mind once and for all.
He wondered what the next day might bring.
mostly harmless reports:
Went a-maying. Tried a-slaying. Failed miserably (apparently nobody goes to hall any more...) and discovered that the colleges I visited don't accept cash in hall, so I was sitting there in the corner of the hall, hunched over a book, with no food, looking Exceedingly Inconspicuous.
- mostly harmless
Alchemist reports:
It was a great night for killing. Halloween! Vampires, wizards and Captain Americas [Well, he has gone bad, doncha know. HAIL HYDRA!] were wandering on the street, and surely an inconspicuous alchemist carrying an Occam's razor lightsaber (it's, of course, yet another plastic ruler, and a razor is simply too small to be used as a weapon so the Alchemist reconfigured it into a lightsaber) would not draw any attention. However, when Alchemist arrived at [REDACTED COLLEGE] and met with his accomplice L, he realized a problem: their victim might have been out enjoying the ghostly festivities and might not be in her room. But when they saw light emanating from underneath the door, their hope was reignited. They patiently knocked and waited outside, preparing a lethal strike the moment his target opened the door. The Occam's lightsaber was one of the weapons the Alchemist is most proud of - it does not inflict any physical wound; instead, it erases the very existence of the target. Clean and Civilised.
The lightsaber let out a gentle buzz - it longs for the taste of blood (although in fact it may never taste it... the Alchemist felt sorry for the weapon.) L's fanciful small sword was more reserved and more patient in contrast, remaining silent in darkness.
Three knocks. And three more. And three more.
There was nobody answering the door.
Warm yellow light shines the floor.
They could wait no more.
Suspicions were raised and the Alchemist and his accomplice had to retreat, waiting for another chance.
Gachnar reports:
Hi,
Just saw the incompetent Jules Verne walking past and put him out of his misery with a knife-pen.
Best,
Gachnar
Jules Verne reports:
After a I have eaten a delicious burger, I got up to take a drink. As I was filling my cup with water, an assassin approached me and stabbed me at the chest. Blood was flowing like a waterfall out of my chest and the last thing I saw before I close my eyes was his vicious laughter.
Cornelian reports:
Sitting nervously in my bedchamber, contemplating my own incompetence, I was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Upon enquiry, I heard a familiar voice respond. A feeling of trepidation washed over me.
Surely... Surely I could trust him? Dismissing my misgivings as simple paranoia, I welcomed him into my sanctum. The conversation seemed innocuous. I should have trusted my instincts, however, for, looking away for a fraction of a second, I turned back to be confronted face-on with the cold, unforgiving barrel of my very own gun.
Viceroy Sir Rupert Bellchamber-Darling reports:
It is with a heavy heart that I must report and event that I am indeed not terribly proud of- after his newly-gained incompetent status, Cornelian could not help but be a draw of would-be assassins to our humble place of residence, an inconvenience that, alas, I could not stand for. So as it was, after a brief conversation in his own room, I picked up his own pistol and shot him- this was not a proud moment, but then the future of our coalition must be prioritised over that of its members.
Regards,
The Viceroy Sir Rupert Bellchamber-Darling
Detritus reports:
We were notified of a particularly lazy assassin - who was an inhabitant of the Real World, and, as such, we knew nothing of his daily movements, other than a vulnerability in his commuter routine for a brief window every day. Rising at an unearthly hour, I travelled for half an hour on my steam-cycle to wait at a large travel hub in our city. My intended companion was indisposed due to, I believe it is called, a Mad One the previous night. [Can confirm. On the plus side, the essay crisis is now resolved -TG]
The catch was that this Michael French was well known to me, and I to him - it was at this point that I cunningly donned my elaborate disguise (pictured here).
Lurking and skulking for nigh on a quarter hour, my patience was rewarded when the target disembarked from the bus I was standing next to.
The good news was I immediately spotted him.
The bad news was that he was caught in a crowd.
The good news was that he was only a couple of metres away -
The bad news was that he had been tipped off the night before (not by my professional self) of the likelihood of an attack today and as such was highly paranoid, glancing over his shoulder frequently as he went.
The good news was that (although I did believe we made eye contact) my disguise seemed to pass muster and he was not alerted to my presence.
I proceeded to tail him at a distance - the thrill of the chase! Twenty metres back, I followed - able to track him over the heads of the crowd. Dodging between trees, lamp posts and prams, I tailed him for two blocks but could not get any closer, his vigilance keeping him safe.
He stopped to cross a carriageway. I sprinted back around a city block, intending to cut him off - alas! a dead end, thwarted by the cul de sac - retraced my steps - crossed a rather busy motor-carriageway - suddenly, to my frustration, the mark had disappeared.
I had some breath left in my lungs, and was not prepared to give up yet. Swiftly removing the disguise, which had served its purpose well, I moved at top speed to where I predicted I could intercept him on his observed trajectory. I was hugely fortunate in managing to spot the back of his head bobbing away.
Running to catch up, and slowing when he turned, I gradually made up the lost ground. However, the game was about to be up, as I predicted he would soon arrive at his destination.
The choice I was faced with: blow my cover with an all-in attempt, or lie low and use the information gathered for a future re-attempt? Well, impatience got the better of me.
"Michael!", I shouted, disguiseless, waving.
He turned in the distance - a full ten metres away - and we made eye contact, him wary, me nervous.
I put my hands above my head. "I'm unarmed.."
He wandered over. It was good to see him - brief but warm acquaintances that we were, we enjoyed a short catch-up, with my hands in the air all the while. Making small talk, my excuse was that I was 'casing the joint' for a future attempt on his life - and was totally unarmed at that moment.
Still out of breath from the chase, I 'feigned' utter exhaustion, nearly collapsing, even accidentally giving him a glimpse of the guns in my jacket, which I don't know whether he clocked or not-
Quick as a flash, I pulled a cosh from out of my sleeve, which had been raised above my head just a minute previously, and gave him a good whack.
As he lay unconscious, I delivered a brief monologue to his prone figure, along the lines of 'hooray, I haven't been shot for bearing this time. By the way, I can't believe you fell for this' before finishing him off with my steam-pistol.
Props to the late Michael for his healthy level of paranoia on his route - anti-props for stopping to chat with his assassiny tail.
The Gentleman reports:
Upon hearing that Ben Mortishire-Smith had successfully used a cosh without immediately dying (reference this previous death, as well as his death this game), I corrected this problem immediately, bidding his own scarf to tighten and slay him. Maybe next time, Ben...
King Mickey reports:
I, ancient king, rudely dethroned once more,
Bones shattered in the morning light.
I came prepared and eager,
Yet still lost my life.
A friend it was.
I drew near,
Spoke,
We smiled.
Then he struck.
My defences low,
A cosh blow to the head,
Followed by a bullet to the chest
- now that's me dead! Alas, I bled out quick.
Blood coats the floor, red and slick.
My last sight a manic grin,
As Detritus fades,
From view.
Dead.
Yet again.
Another life gone.
Though I be an M.A.,
I showed no mastery today.
And my only crown remaining now,
Is a sideways ode to yet another game lost.
Ebenezer Hassard reports:
After an attempt on my life was made last night (which only failed because, when asked whether my name was Ebenezer, I replied "no" and they went away) I realised I should probably gain some competence; I looked up incompetent players at my college and found that Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society was one of them. I spotted him sitting doing some work as I was walking through the bar and got a friend to check his identity by asking his name - unluckily for him, he wasn't suspicious enough to give a false name so I headed back to the bar and shot him dead.
[Bars (as in the rooms) are no-projectile zones, and the bar area itself is OOB, so Ebenezer Hassard has gone Wanted for this kill, and the kill is annulled! -TG]
Gentleman's Absolution reports:
So Gentleman's Heroism and I killed Ebenezer Hassard at 1:15 in [REDACTED HALL] today with a pen labelled knife. [Excellent, you'll both get a promotion for this!]
Best regards,
Gentleman's Absolution
Ebenezer Hassard reports:
Somewhat predictably, two hours after becoming wanted, two friendly law enforcement officers came up to me in the college servery during lunch and stabbed me in the gut. So ends my brief and miserable existence.
an entirely competent assassin, honest reports:
Today I went and knocked on Tinkerbell's door at 13:30 but got no response.
On Friday, I didn't report it at the time, but at 13:00 I waited outside Steamed Broccoli's lectures for her to come out, but failed to see her. Someone who could have been her went up some stairs but when I went there after a delay, they were gone.
SCOURGE reports:
Free time! Guns! Chocolate!
Went on a One-Man-No-Plan-Incobash from 4pm until 10pm today and a LOT happened so if I was all fancy and clank-clank with the report we'd be here until doomsday but here are the highlights:
-Went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 1], but [THE VICTIM OF MY WRATH] wasn't in
-Went to [UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE] to look for Lord Ursidae. His room was empty but there were two people in the adjacent room, so I knocked and held them both hostage at gunpoint asking about Rodgerick's whereabouts. [Well, it's not technically against the rules as long as they're fine with you doing that... -TG] (To be fair they could have closed the door at any time.) It turns out neither of them knew he was called Rodgerick and he goes by Teddy (tricksy hobbitses...) and most of the discussion was one of the guys trying to convince me the other one was Rodgerick and to shoot him. He was not Rodgerick. He just has a bad friend.
-Hit up [REDACTED COLLEGE 2]'s hall and murdered GreyBlur theatrically with a laser sword outside the hall. Was quite satisfying given that yesterday I also went to King's hall and asked Gabriel Cradden if he was Gabriel Cradden, only for him to respond 'no' and me apparently deciding that was an acceptable answer. But then again I goaded him into attempting competency today and now he's dead, so.
-Hit up [REDACTED COLLEGE 3]'s hall and WHY DO HALLS NOT ACCEPT CASH I WAS REALLY HUNGRY although their dinner was apparently a large meat wodge. Neither of the incos were there, or at least I didn't see them.
-Accidentally walked into a [REDACED] FORMAL and had to avoid eye contact with my friend there because how do you explain 'I came in here by accident to try and find incos and now I've taken the WRONG EXIT and I'm in the KITCHEN'. [Don't other people do this as much as I do? It's all about adjusting expectations until they're used to the idea of seeing you diving round a corner, wearing a bear costume, with a lightsaber in one hand and a killer attack animal in another. No explanation needed, really.]
Then Part II: Reverse Trick-or-Treating!
Hiked to [REDACTED FAR AWAY COLLEGE] with a few bags of chocolate and went reverse trick-or-treating, which was fun, and also resulted in the deaths of Dealbert (which I felt bad about because I charged into his unlocked room while he was agonising over some maths and he didn't even like chocolate) and tea1953 (who was sitting outside his room through some stroke of luck, and seemed happier about the maltesers than sad about the bullet wound in his neck).
Fear me, assassins, for the reasons to fear are many and great. Also I have marshmallows.
- SCOURGE
T-O-E reports:
I had become incautious, and as I walked unsuspectingly from the [REDACTED BUILDING], I felt a bullet pierce my metal exterior. I collapsed, never to kill again.
Steven Hawking reports:
I was leaving the [REDACTED FACILITY] after a hard days work puzzling out the secrets of the universe, when I saw a tantalising glimpse at what I thought was a T-O-E, but as I got closer, it crumpled wordlessly, with a confused look on its face as to how it had fallen so suddenly.
Gentleman's Wanderlust reports:
This morning I thought I saw a killer bat in my place of work. While contemplating how I could best improvise a weapon to deal with the pest (not having my regular armoury with me), I went to investigate more closely. It turns out it was just a regular human-shaped bat, and thus completely harmless. It's probably just the time of year for these things.
Later that day (still in [REDACTED DEPARTMENT]) I found myself having lunch next to the White Rabbit (of 'Alice in Wonderland' fame). Maybe this was all just a dream. (Actually, given how little sleep I'm getting, that wouldn't be too surprising.)
No Stone UnTwrned reports:
I was sent up to [ABODE OF VERY SCARY ASSASSIN] today by my allies [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE] after the death of my friend and comrade T-O-E; they wanted me to scope it out to see where to hide for an attempt at revenge on [UNSPECIFIED DAY]. However, my very unarmed self was strolling merrily out of [REDACTED] when Thaddeus Valentine himself - who I had believed was not in Cambridge [THERE ARE NO Thaddeus Valentines IN CAMBRIDGE] - walked past with a large laundry bag and after I took stock of the situation [SHAT MYSELF] I turned around and [RUN FORREST RUUUUN] hightailed it out of there.
Steam Powered Giraffe reports:
The programming was to kill GBS. I had failed once already, and had been put ready to be scrapped. The programming was still to kill GBS, and to be redeemed I made it happen; waiting outside silently in the corridor for an hour, listening to political debate from within, does not bother a thing of brass and screws. The target was wary, always leaving the door locked and looking out at any who knocked - I was the fifth so far to have approached, by their reckoning.
There was only one moment's opportunity; his friend stood in the doorway ready to leave, holding the door open while finishing the discussion. A quick weighing of risks, and then I walked in under his arm and shot the target in the chest, finishing the directive and allowing myself rest. [Well done on being the second person to survive the Wanted list this game, make sure you stay off it... -TG]
Earl Grey reports:
I was placed on the incompetence list and cruelly killed by a friend on a Halloween movie night! Don't have any true friends in this game! Person who killed me was Marquess Irene Rowena de Redmonde.
Marquess Irene Rowena de Redmonde reports:
Today I killed Earl Grey with a bang-shot to the head from my tiny water revolver. The assassination happened in my room (which is water-with-care zone). Having seen a good friend of mine on the incompetence list, I deviously invited her to watch Nightmare Before Christmas in my room on Halloween. Once she was comfortably sitting in the chair, I stealthily took my trusty water revolver from the top drawer of my desk, quickly turned around and pointed it to her forehead yelling "BANG!".
Detritus reports:
I had arranged to borrow some spoons from one Earl Grey [Usually, I get my spoon before I get my Earl Grey. Just saying]. Knocked on the door with a mutual friend to collect the aforementioned utensils - She and some friends were having a Halloween movie night - I was going to turn it into a movie nightmare for her, but it was more of a headache for me as I encountered only a zombie. Rip.
The Gentleman reports:
All Hallows' Eve. A night when the older and more terrible things of the earth tip the balance toward them in the eternal struggle. A wild night, as the saints in their pearly multitudes do silent battle in the heavens against the assembled forces of Old Night. Hither and thither about the earth the battle rages. For those who have eyes to see, there comes St Michael with his spear, and arrayed against him is Lucifer himself, locked in mortal combat against the blackened sky. The clash of their meeting is such that the realm of spirits bleeds for a time into the world of men. None should be abroad on that eve.
It is at this time that the darkness at the heart of Cambridge is at its height. Straining against the binds and strictures placed on it, it uses the souls of the dead sacrificed to it over the past year in a burning, mad attempt to unite itself with the heavenly war. Each year, it fails. But on this night, this darkest and most grim of eves, its power is greater than at any other time in the year. With an intelligence of its own, it stirs.
The Gentleman knows this, of course. The chain of those who do the bidding of the darkness is unbroken, and the grimoire handed down speaks often of this night. The power which awakens and roars, shaking the bars of its cage, can be harnessed. And, mayhap, it should be exercised, or otherwise used. Otherwise, one day there is a fear that the perennial increase of power may come to its inescapable conclusion, and wrench the very foundations from the city.
So, in his high tower, The Gentleman sits, his hands in an attitude of prayer. Above him in the domed ceiling, a roiling madness lies, and yet he is quite calm. This is nothing, less than nothing to him. He has travelled far and wide since he left Cambridge the first time, and come to terms with the entirety of life. Indeed, his only feeling, the only thing that still could be called a passion, is faint regret that he could not spend more time with his lady-friend, restored to life by Snow White in her time, but withered to dust when Miss White's power was relinquished. But that is small, and almost forgotten now. There is only the words of the ritual.
He hums a quick phrase. Seething through his mind is the knowledge of all the people in this city who, by his machinations, unwittingly serve the thing that rules this deserted edifice. A sacrifice, so to speak: a death to earth the energy growing in the place. In many ways, a good thing to do. The Gentleman's lips curl in a thin smile. How ironic.
The Gentleman's eyes open slightly, twin black scars on his set face. It is as he'd suspected before. As minds twist under his probing touch, a touch of disloyalty comes to his attention. Alex Hardwick. The man has lied to him, made false reports. Unacceptable. But to be dealt with later. He carries on his search through the unwitting minds of the assassins currently dotted around Cambridge. Surely there must be a victim somewhere in their masses?
A tightening of his eyes is the only thing which shows he has found his man, wandering oblivious through the fog that swirls through Cambridge- a spillover of the uncounted hordes of the spirits that roam the streets. His thoughts are loud- fear that he's taken on a responsibility he cannot fulfil; hope that he can leave the competition he'd entered, renege on the contract, and return to normal life. Perfect. The Gentleman's eyes become abstracted. He taps two fingers on the stone floor, now wreathed with ice, yet scalding to the touch. The shapeless mass above him becomes eerily still. No sound filters into the place from the outside. A grim silence fills the air.
The Gentleman stands in one fluid movement, his cloak swirling around him, bows deeply to each of the four points of the compass, and strides out of the room. The darkened ceiling returns slowly to its swirling motion. As the sound of The Gentleman's boots on the cobbles dies away, the candles in the room slowly extinguish, one by one, until the last one is snuffed out.
As the light in the room dies, Ivor Gun leaves the world with it. The fog enters his lungs, and stops his heart. He collapses to the cobbles without a word, covered by the mist. By morning, when the street cleaners make their rounds, there will be nothing there. But the darkness in the heart of Cambridge will be stronger by one more soul, hungry for more, and eager to strike again.
[For the avoidance of confusion, I've not gone mad and started killing people at random: Sam has in fact resigned from the game.]
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
Remember: all it takes for evil (AKA me) to triumph is for the Umpire to do nothing. [I WAS BUSY ORGANISING THE GAME, DAMN IT]
I refuse to accept responsibility for the fact that the Umpire does not appear to possess a suitably comprehensive edition of the Oxford Latin Dictionary. [CENSORED]
The Gentleman reports:
For giving the Umpire inappropriate Latin pseudonyms, for destroying the collective innocence of the [THERE ARE NO SHADOWY POWER STRUCTURES IN CAMBRIDGE], and for being COMPLETELY AND UNDERSTANDABLE UNREPENTANT, Alexander Hardwick, M.A. is going Irredeemably Wanted. If you see this man in Cambridge, gun him down without mercy:
If we don't see this man in Cambridge, I might take a trip on the X5 myself...
Detritus reports:
[21:40] Called in at [redacted college] and met up with the The auto barber of fleet street but there was nobody home.
Continued to [redacted college two] and found again no one home - save for a very talkative staircase-mate, who informed us that the target didn't even go by the name we knew him as - and provided further info on his daily movements. Watch this space.
Sir Lucius Resurrectus reports:
I checked the incompetents list this morning and found that one of its members, Llama, lived not only in my college, but in a room I new very well - it was next door to my first room. Spasmodically throughout the day, I checked that no one else had got to her and I waited for nightfall. I new that the window was viewable to passers by and so in the cover of night, I would be able to see whether she was in. At dusk, I checked and could not be sure, so I knocked on the door - no reply. I waited until complete darkness. I checked - the lights were out. But, on my second check, I discovered that the lights were indeed on, so I composed myself, knocked on the door (my heart pounding in my ears) and waited. I heard a noise behind the door. It opened and she stared at me blankly. In a sudden moment of weakness, the best I could think of was "Who are you?" (it is sad, I know) [This lack of preparedness is what got you killed last time as well... -TG]. She replied that she was Llama and without a second thought, I drew my pistol and shot her through the heart, leaving her dead on the doorstep.
U for originality.
U for forward planning.
A for getting the job done.
Gentleman's Wanderlust reports:
This evening, following some musical endeavours, I set out to take down some of the local incos. I began the evening with a stake-out of two different rooms in [REDACTED COURT], having previously scouted the area at the weekend. While waiting, I checked my evidence and discovered that one of the targets was in fact a corpse (or at least, the targetted room held a corpse; I might have got some rooms mixed up). So now my stake-out was for one target only.
I then received another update; there was a wanted criminal residing in the very court. Indeed, I had seen Steam Powered Giraffe early in the day, and he had appeared very afraid of me; not knowing yet the atrocity that had taken place, I let him pass into his next class.
Further study of the virtual mountain of information I was faced with revealed that the remaining inco in the court, despite remaining on the list of incompetents, did not remain alive. Apparently there was some 'Schrodinger's killer' thing going on, although I know not what this means; apparently it some science-fictiony thing from the future.
So now, having set out to stake out two incompetent 'assassins', I was instead left staking out a single criminal's residence. Given our similar lines of work and physical activity, I deemed the stake-out to be worthless, so moved on to the remaining inco, pausing to gather my thoughts and gather more intelligence.
After communing with the force, I now knew that the wanted criminal was wanted no more, having recently redeemed himself. I thus moved to set an ambush for the remaining local incompetent, GBS. It quickly became apparent that he was in his abode, discussing the finer points of debating with two of his acquaintances. Choosing to initially remain within earshot rather than within sight of the door, I spent the next hour listening to bits of debate, waiting for my moment. Eventually, the guests left, and the door was allowed to simply close behind them. But GBS had clearly been part of the now-finished debate, so surely he couldn't already be dead? I burst in through the unlocked door, and shot ...
... a corpse. It turns out that I had once again been outsmarted by the Steam Powered Giraffe, who was neck and neck with me in this race. (The Giraffe, having a much longer neck than I, was thus leaving me far behind). On top of it all, it seems he had also heard second-hand of my earlier visit to this location; suffice it to say that while I was currently seeing signs of his competency, he had heard only of my incompetency.
So, to summarise, this evening I have staked out a no-longer-wanted assassin, two corpses, and shot a third corpse. At least the corpse didn't shoot back.
(Perhaps it's a good thing I'm not studying to be a doctor; it seems that everyone I've ever sought out is a corpse now, though none of it is apparently of my own doing.)
Gentleman's Surprise reports:
I just killed someone Teddy. He said loudly he was inco [A new competitor for the Darwin Award! -TG]. I ran for my knife and got him.
Pierre reports:
This is what I've been waiting for, the opportunity to kill my husband [Is this usual? I'd better start checking my back for knives...]. I knew he would go incompetent soon, so checked the list yet again and there he was. I sprang to action, grabbing my Attack Dragon and waited at my peephole for the sound of his movement. The issue was that he was entertaining his lady friend [Oh. That does make more sense], and was unlikely to come out soon.
I gave up and visited the bathroom, only to hear him come out of his room and check if the bathroom was occupied. I missed that opportunity, but knew that he would be back. I hid in my room again and a few minutes later out he walked. I sprang to attention, checked he was there, then opened my door and my attack dragon flew and killed him. The lady friend received quite a shock.
I can still hear him swearing in the shower, Vengeance is mine.
Pierre reports:
The truth about my death is that I was the one to betray her. It had been roughly a year that we have been together as a strong and connected college couple. But time passed and things change... I cheated. She confronted me while I was with her, unleashing the wrath of her pet dragon onto me. Together with my mistress, we burned while my wife enjoyed the show.
Captain Albert Alexander reports:
Pirates spotted in the next college over! Captain Albert Alexander brought cannons to bear and boarded personally. With shot and pellets flying, he fought the fierce pirate captain up and down the ship, both dodging every missile.
Eventually the flintlocks were all spent, and the two drew swords to approach. But Albert's faithful tiger, nursed to life after being left dying at his door with an eye missing, flew at the pirate and tore his throat out. With respect for a battle well fought, Albert left for his own ship, the seas safe again.
Atlas reports:
Atlas had heard whispers that his was a name tarnished with shame and incompetency of late, and just sitting in his room, a strange scratching at the door instantly had him fearing for my life... I waited for the noise to pass, and proceeded to investigate who might have been making an attempt to gain entry. I saw a shady, unfamiliar person half way down the stairs, who looked like a rabbit caught in headlights at my sight; I took my chance to throw my (pen)knife at his gut. Missing, the figure whipped out a firearm, whereupon an epic battle took place up and down the stair case. Having expended his ammo in a 5-minute exchange of fire, I rushed down the nerf pellet-littered stairs wielding my knife in my hand, where we faced-off. Little did I suspect a trained, ferocious pet cat to be concealed under the man's cloak, and the surprise that the sight ensued gave the animal clear a path to my throat. I was bested by a cat with one eye.
Small Cog #2 reports:
There was an annoying spanner that needed to be removed, and because the rest of the gears weren't around to help I tried to remove it alone. This almost worked, but it managed to get to safety with only one limb missing. Need the rest of the machine to function properly - next time.
Detritus reports:
Detritus and I paid a visit to [redacted college] on our way home from a lecture. Upon arriving at the target's room, we found nobody home; however, a neighbour was very forthcoming in providing information - he didn't know them personally, and spoke relatively little english, but eventually produced a list of college students from his pile of papers, indicating to us her name and subject.
Intending to return at a later date, we passed a trio of girls entering the court we had just left - I thought I recognised her, so called her name, but she gave nothing away.
Upon our return home, we looked her up and found out that it was indeed her that we had walked past. More fool us...
Gentleman's Stealth reports:
Today at 3pm I killed herself by occidunt in the Corpus JCR with a pen marked 'knife'.
Having spotted my target through the window I casually sidled up to the opposite entrance and having been spotted by my unwitting target, he actually beckoned me to come in. After a small amount of small talk I casually asked 'You're [REDACTED] right?'. His suspicion was aroused but he was unable to draw his knife in time to stop my fatal blow.
Thus, I have finished the work that Shrike and his incobash team started before their untimely demise. [Oops. Maybe next time]
herself by occidunt reports:
After several weeks of procrastinating about going and killing any targets and subsequently several days of procrastinating about killing any of the numerous fellow incompetents I see semi-regularly around college, I was - as should be expected - brutally murdered by the police.
At a destress-focused welfare event of all places! It took negligence of several mental notes on my part for this to occur. Firstly, I recognised my assailant: I had previously researched and noted them as a major threat - me being incompetent and them being a member of both the police force and my college. Secondly, I noticed them loitering an unnecessarily large distance from the doorway to the event I was attending, shuffling behind an unfortunately nonocclusive tree. I had assumed this was due to apprehension - which I had seen on the faces of other entrants - of the particularly loudly musical event. Thirdly, I actively beckoned my assailant into the event, inviting them to enjoy the spoils of JCR-given welfare. Fourthly, I responded to the very directed question 'Are you X?' with 'Yes'... my survival would be unjustified by this point. My final mistake was a too-slow drawing of my knife, which had been waiting loyally in my back pocket since before the game began, for exactly this moment. Realising my many mistakes all too late, I took a swing at the attacking arm with said knife but was too slow. I suffered a swift stab to the abdomen and I was no more.
RIP constant paranoia xoxox
[I've retrospectively decided to make Welfare events OOB, due to the potential for issues during any pursuit which may arise, and to avoid annoying organisers. Therefore, something like a dog petting event, or a specifically welfare-organised tea event is OOB. Email me, as ever, if you're not sure. Having said that, Gentleman's Stealth otherwise made a perfectly licit kill, and is not going Corrupt for it (in fact, she's getting a promotion!)]
Detritus reports:
I paid Big Sam a visit - one of his friends opened the door and I asked for the man I sought, having some 'paperwork' to deliver. He told me the guy was busy but maybe he could take a message? Until a second man walked into the corridor behind him, saying "Hi, I'm Big Sam" - I asked the doorman whether this was him, and he confirmed it, so I shot him.
Then they both laughed (how was he not dead??) and it turned out that it was not, in fact, Big Sam - and I had just fallen for a dastardly decoy.
[Getting your housemates to claim they're you is not OK. Big Sam will go Wanted for getting an accomplice killed.]
He reports:
It wasn't their usual meeting spot.
But then, this wasn't a usual meeting.
An understanding passed between them. Seated in a ring, each one held the life of the one on their right in their hands. The first one to make a move also died. They had laughed and cheered about their achievement a day ago. The one who we shall for now call Him had arranged this gathering.
For a moment, He had been utterly terrified when he had first seen the bounty... and then He had started to laugh.
So, the chief of police wanted them dead did he?
The weapons that they were holding towards each other were only there for show. Or at least, so He wanted to believe...
Eventually, the others smiled as well. Their weapons didn't move, but that was only because putting them down would have been less of a show of trust than keeping them where they were. Somehow, the fact that a potential betrayal had a predetermined end seemed to help all of them relax. In addition to that, the lowering of a weapon didn't endanger the person holding the weapon, it endangered the person two spaces to the right.
"You know... it occurs to me that this 'chief of police' fellow really underestimates us in this regard. I will also say that it's amusing how 'we' started shooting... as in, more than one of us, with the one weapon that we owned." He remembered the attack well. They had had one weapon between them at the time... now, things were different, but at the time, they had had a single 6 shot pistol... yes, it was a very special 6 shot pistol, and that made a difference, but he still couldn't help but grin. If this chief of police had recognised them as assassins, then he'd probably have recognised 2 of their group as incos as well. Ah well, that was all past them now.
"I will say, my arm is starting to ache. Would the two of you be so kind as to humour me and lower your weapons?"
He grinned and looked to the female currently holding a knife to one other man's throat. Her lowering her weapon meant that he was the only one truly in danger. One by one, all of them lowered their weapons and then placed each weapon firmly out of arm's reach.
"So... what do we do about the others?"
That was the advertised purpose for this meeting. Those who didn't turn up weren't necessarily declaring war, but it did leave them as an unknown quantity. In actual fact, He just wanted to get everybody together as quickly as possible to limit the number of letters He had to write.
"And the bounty... how do we respond?"
He regarded his gun out of the corner of his eye, then idly removed the bullets from it. The area was secure, so the only threat came from the other two assassins in the room.
"We ensure that we do not become incompetent. That much is obvious. The others... well, I've sent out letters reminding them that they are at a disadvantage against any one of us... against all of us, they stand no chance... it is the bounty itself which I wish to discuss, not the reaction of the others. I personally do not wish to rise to this challenge. As such, the others are safe from me for now. Should I go after them, it will be for my reasons, not his, and I will be claiming no bounty for it."
He idly span his gun around his gun around his finger and let His gaze wander around the room.
"Such reasons would include if they chose to, for some reason, forgo their better judgement and attempt a kill on one of us. Until then, they are safe from me personally."
He paused.
"There's also the matter of... well, Her to discuss. The Gentleman's Stealth... she's killed one of the others." [Stealthily, as was foretold]
"... And whenever we kill her, she just comes back."
"Yes, usually with some new part of her body mechanised. You know, I'd love to get my hands on the research notes of whoever created her this way."
He sighed. "Sadly, there is very little that can be done about Her other than avoiding the incompetent list..."
"Very well... we're done here then."
He stood up and picked up his gun.
"You can all leave now."
There was a brief shuffling, and some of the other figures left the room, leaving just himself and two others... the three who had gotten the bounty posted on them.
"So... if it is all the same to you two, I'd like to increase our current paranoia level."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a brief discussion, and soon, the three were once again chatting and laughing like old friends. Somehow, this game had brought the three of them together.
"You know... he does have a point. Should it come to it, only one of us can win."
An awkward silence passed between the three. It was finally the spitting of the fire that broke it, and He grinned.
"Not true... I intend to get as far as I can now... and to do that, I need your help. Now, do you two still need my help? Can we trust each other?"
They didn't need to answer. He knew what they would say already. Even if they intended to betray him, they'd say they were on his side... fortunately, he wasn't looking for an answer in their words, he was looking for an answer in their faces.
He found the one he was hoping for.
"Well... I suppose that there is nothing else to discuss on this matter then."
"I have one question."
The other male spoke up.
"What exactly IS a chocolate orange?"
"..."
"..."
"We are going to the market, now. And then you are going to become a little more cultured."
With that, they armed themselves and set out into the night. Two moving like shadows and a third simply donning a top hat and blending into the crowd around him. He found himself choking on the fumes of the city around him twice, but otherwise, no terrors awaited them that night.
Safely back in their usual hideout, the three broke open their new prize and began to discuss their next move.
Detritus reports:
Knocked on the door of [location redacted] and an innocent answered the door. One 'where is Copernicus?' later, I heard a cry about a guest being on the doorstep reverberating through the house. The door reopened to reveal the person I was looking for, so he was swiftly dispatched. He seemed to find it hilarious more than anything; that's the spirit?
Shrike reports:
As the first person to contact me to claim a bounty, Thomas Carey is the first person to receive one. I created this work of "art" to immortalise his demise. I was unsure whether it was priceless or worthless however, so I included a cookie to be on the safe side
(The text reads "Are you Thomas Carey?" and "Yes, suspicious stranger" I am! Please kill me!")
Detritus reports:
Harambe was caught off guard, little did he know that people other than zoo keepers also carry weapons. He is now dead.
box of socks reports:
There was a loud scene in [REDACATED COLLEGE] this morning as Harambe strutted about, dragging a hapless fresher about in the mud. There was fear in the air, nobody could decide how to save the fresher without potentially making the situation worse. Fortunately, the drama quickly ended as a box of socks fell from the sky and landed on Harambe's head, causing the poor gorilla to faint. He was promptly shot through the heart by a zookeeper as a lesson to all gorillas to avoid any shenanigans within College. The student body has expressed shock and outrage to the news and has subsequently launched a petition to replace the statue in [REDACTED COURT] with a memorial to Harambe.
Gone too soon. RIP Harambe
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
Umpire baby
Slip your lightsabre under the tree
For me:
We'll have a duel or three,
Umpire baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight!
Umpire baby
A nerf strongarm and nerf bullets too
All blue
I'll lurk any staircase for you,
Umpire baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.
Think of all the assassins I've killed;
Think of all the inco blood that I've spilled
And, Umpire baby, don't interrupt [What, by stabbing you multiple times in the chest? I don't know why I'd do that...]
For you, I'd totally go corrupt ;)
Umpire cutie
Please do give me that title today:
MA.
Then come to Ox***d to play,
Umpire cutie -
And hurry down my chimney tonight.
Umpire baby,
You've just forgotten one little thing...
I sing
And I write poetry too
For you
Umpire baby
So hurry down my chimney tonight. ;)
[You're just went even more Irredeemably Corrupt -TG]
L reports:
I was in my room today when Industrial Accident knocked on my door. Unfortunately he wasn't very good in hiding his weapon so I immediately knew what's going on from looking through the peephole. Getting ready my fanciful small sword, I took a deep breath and opened the door. He fired but hit my arm. In the successive firing as I took cover behind my door while attempting to go out and stab him, he hit the same arm two more times. Finally, seeing my chance as he's reloading his weapon, I charged out of my room. Alarmed, he panicked and fell to his doom as I mercilessly slaughtered him with my trustworthy fanciful small sword.
Industrial Accident reports:
With the introduction of new health and safety regulations, there seems to be no place for industrial accidents anymore
Cornelius Grey reports:
"Look, do you trust me?"
"That's not the point, this is never going to work."
Wells looked dubiously at the cards that the three of them owned, proclaiming them to be able to enter certain areas that were otherwise prohibited.
"Well, here is a better question," Grey sifted through his notes on the two targets residing within this building, "do you have a better plan yourself?"
"I suppose not."
"Excellent." His gaze shifted between Wells and Kenway, then he strode confidently forward.
"Excuse me."
Ah damnation.
Cornelius' mind went into panic mode instantly. Ok, what was their story? They were visiting a friend, who-
Kenway raised his card towards the porter. The other two instantly followed suit, although Grey did accidentally draw his inventor's licence (read: I confidently showed the porter a Lloyds TSB bank card) before sheepishly realising his mistake and handing over his clearance ID instead.
"I'm sorry, but are you guys from this college?"
Panic!
"No, we're not, we're from [College Redacted]."
"Then you can't just walk in... [One does not simply walk into [REDACTED], apparently. At this time of the evening at least] why are you here anyway?"
"Oh, we're visiting a friend."
"Ok, well unless they come out to collect you, you can't go in. Which staircase?"
Grey looked at Wells "It was [Location Redacted], right?"
"Well, you can text them if you like and they can come get you, but..."
And so it continued. Eventually, they nodded and said that they'd come back at a later date, but they didn't know if they was in right now, so texting them probably wouldn't help.
With that, they left, a little disheartened with how the night had gone.
Earlier:
"So..."
Wells and Kenway both groaned as Cornelius Grey once again said the one word with which he began almost all of his conversations. He paused, realised what he'd done, sighed, then tried again.
"So... I don't suppose either of you had more luck searching than I did."
They were standing outside of a fairly small building, 48 Jesus Lane or something like that... only, there was a minor issue.
"The guy doesn't exist. No face, no information on his habits, nothing."
"So... I suppose that means that we could knock, but..."
"But?"
"But we will have to ask for him at the door. There are at least 6 people in that building judging by the number of rooms I can see through the windows. So, that means that we have a one in 6 chance of encountering him himself... should we ask for [REDACTED] and find that it is he himself who has entered, at least one of us will die."
Somehow, none of them really wanted to be the one to knock and take those odds.
Overall, quite a disappointing outing.
Alchemist reports:
Some dedicated assassin from Caius butchered the Alchemist with a paper axe. The Alchemist didn't have a resurrection stone so he died.
Thaddeus Valentine reports:I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
F**K
Versifier reports:
Report, or Pilgrimage of the Versifier:
I'm heading to the land of dreaming spires
To sightsee and peruse a book or two;
And just to say, if anyone inquires,
It's not suspicious - I'm just passing through.
Just visiting. Just strolling through the park.
That's not a gun, I'm just happy to see you.
And when the coach stops and I disembark
I won't have any business there to see to.
I'm just going to set off, have a gander,
drink coffee in an overpriced cafe.
Nefarious intentions? Lies and slander!
But if one Sergeant wants to come and play
At chimneys, he might find me well positioned.
(Let's hope he's had the fireplace decommissioned...)
-
It is 3:06AM and I am AWAKE. I can't sleep because I will wake up past 8am and have wasted the bus fare. The things I do for the cause...I need to anthropomorphise my rage so I can give it legs and make it bring me coffee.
-
On second thought, I enjoy sleep. Can I be an adult? Can I wake up at 7am?
-
Apparently, yes!
-
Reasons why this was a really, really bad idea
1.) I hate coaches.
2.) I haaaate coaches.
3.) You know how people get travel-sickness when they're kids but then they grow out of it and enjoy scenic drives like regular humans? Nope! Not me!
4.) My only ailments are severe travel-sickness and hayfever, which get the least sympathy, due to being pathetic. You know what happens if you accidentally overdose on antihistamines? People laugh!
5.) Forget scouting out my door, just chuck a flower at me and I'll die.
-
I am kitted out like Rambo up in here. The water gun is digging into my back.
-
Sushi is way better in Oxford, so, there's that.
-
Oxford porters are extremely suspicious by nature. 'Who are you? Why are you here?' You'd think I was wearing a balaclava or had a rubber band gun protruding from my satchel. The latter may have been true.
-
Just a point, dearest Gentleman: when you said you were going to get someone to let me into the MCR, I presumed you had some sort of Magdalen contact.
I did not expect your very, very corrupt sergeant himself to show up at the bottom of the f**king stairs.
-
He's lovely in person, though. Why were you angry at him again? [Entirely justified reasons.]
-
Oh, that's why. That's hilarious. [I'M STILL FINDING MORE OF THE [CENSORED] THINGS]
-
Just had this conversation outside Magdalen's hall:
'I'm not even sure you managed to get me with the water gun.'
*takes jolt out of my pocket and shoots him*
'No-projectile zone. You're not doing yourself any favours.'
*takes laser sword out of my pocket and swishes it across his head several times*
'Settled now?'
-
In conclusion: Magdalen is gorgeous [Not as gorgeous as Magdalene], Cambridge really needs to step up its salad bar game, and I'm monopolising this year's Girton award.
Anna Fang reports:
Taken from the logbook of the Jenny Haniver.
3rd November, 1006 T.E.
I have been busy with work to maintain my cover story in this bustling city, but when I heard that members of the [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE] had been engaged in propoganda detrimental to the reputation of our glorious Umpire, I knew I had to act. I lurked outside the entrance of [HORTICULTURAL RESEARCH CENTRE REDACTED], eventually allowed in by a gullible resident who nonetheless later confided that I was the 'worst liar she had ever met'. I made my way up to the door of Viceroy Sir Rupert Bellchamber-Darling, observed by the at-this-point-totally-not-corrupt-and-about-to-sell-me-out-to-this-guy Detritus, but to my chagrin he was out on some mission of dubious morality. Not wishing for my trip to have been wasted, we retired to Detritus's room, where I enjoyed a rendition of his entry to the impromptue 'Umpire Baby' competition.
The Anti-Traction League will prevail and the Earth will be cleansed.
Anna Fang
The Furnace Blaster reports:
This fine evening, I attempted to decimate the lines of my fellow assassins as other business had brought me into that part of town where I suspected my targets to be hiding. To my great misfortune, my client had only left me with a rather unhelpful description of their location, which I was only able to supplement with some hastily drawn sketches from the network. This badly armed with the assassinâ??s most important weapon â?? information (although it should be noted that I was quite heavily armed with actual equipment) the chances of completing my mission were stacked insurmountably against me. And indeed, a search of the area was to no avail, so that I was forced to leave empty handed. It shall, however, not be the last time I strike.
herself by occidunt reports:
07:57 Already being awake at this unseemly hour, I decided to see if I could catch out any hazy-minded early-risers (yes, 8am is early). I headed by [REDACTED COLLEGE] to make an attempt. After some drawn-out, mind-bending research, I figured out where I could find [REDACTED [COMPASS DIRECTION] COURT] and wandered over there. Unfortunately, [REDACTED COLLEGE] apparently has locks installed on their stairwells, so I was unable to get any closer to my target's room.
08:14 Having been turned away for my first attempt, but still having a bike very readily available, I decided to head over to [ANOTHER REDACTED COLLEGE] with another target in mind. It turns out [REDACTED COURT 2] isn't on the main site of its college and, after further cycling and circulating of the area, it transpired that [REDACTED COURT 2] had even deeper security; access even to the court is not given to those who lack the correct keycard credentials.
herself by occidunt reports:
I had been waiting for an opportunity to catch Alex McAlastair at the [REDACTED DEPARTMENT] since noticing him on the incompetence list. It took several days before the opportunity arose, but today I spotted him cycling in whilst I was leaving the department. I decided to park my bike up again and follow him inside. Having initially lost sight of him, I hazarded a guess that he would have popped upstairs to the canteen, so headed there. Clearly luck was on my side, as he stepped out into the otherwise empty corridor just as I got upstairs. He gave me a questioning gaze as I approached, before I stabbed him several times in the stomach with a 'KNIFE'.
'; DROP TABLE Assassins; -- reports:
Today I made two unsuccesful attempts to kill [REDACTED]. I lurked outside her accomodation for 20 minutes around 0850 hoping to catch her on the way to lectures, but she didn't appear (it seems like [REDACTED ACCOMODATION] has two exits). Then at 1300 I went to the [REDACTED DEPARTMENT], but she didn't appear to be in the crowds of people leaving. One of my [REDACTED] friends suggested that she could have been in the library, so I checked there, but with no success.
Sir Lucius Resurrectus reports:
I don't believe it - I have been killed again!
I was about to leave my room to head down for lunch (unarmed as usual), when I heard a knock on the door. I opened it to find a men standing before me one which I thought I recognised. He said that this had been his old room and that he wondered if it would be alright if he came in and looked around. These words fell on deaf ears, as I was dredging my mind as to where I had seen this man. Then I remembered. He was the villainous I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's. I asked him "would you rather go to Oxford than St John's?" - he denied it but his eyes gave him away. I knew there was nothing that I could do, as all my weapons were on the other side of my room. Before I could decide a course of action, he drew a sword and plunged it deep into my heart.
Dammit!
Sir Lucius Resurrectus
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
[CENSORED] the Police
[TO ARMS, MY POLICEMEN, AND ALL OTHER GOODLY FOLK OF CAMBRIDGE! KILL ALEX WHERE YOU SEE HIM!]
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
Exit Gentleman's Honesty- just stabbed him, he fell for the alumnus trick. [YOU MONSTER!]
Cheep Cheep reports:
;)
Your police force is lacking; your Wanted sergeant met a live player after their [SOCIETY MEETING THAT WAS EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY PUBLIC, I MEAN COME ON], had a lovely chat and strolled to [COLLEGE NAMED FOR A TYPE OF REGENT, WHERE HE CURRENTLY IS, WITH A TRIAD WITH ONLY ONE BULLET IN IT] down the main road with no attempts on our lives. Shame on you all. Shaaaame.
I did of course murder him as soon as we left the Maypole. We disagreed on our definitions of 'We are OOB for this encounter'. See, if you consult the OED, you will find 'a face-to-face meeting' to be the broad definition of 'encounter', and when we left the Maypole we were parallel to each other rather than face-to-face; or, since a meeting is a 'gathering of persons', you could presume that the OOB applied to the original 'gathering'. Specificity is important, dear Alex. (That goes for both of you.) [Humph -TG]
Please go kill him. Then have a chat with his corpse. He's very pleasant.
Love, Cheep Cheep
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
I didn't choose the corrupt life: the corrupt lyf chose me
The unfortunate third year engineer from Pembroke who was killed by his own arrogance reports:
Heard Hardwick was in town. Challenged him to a duel. Offered to lend him ammo so we could do this fairly. He then shot me in the back at the bottom of my staircase [HOW UNGENTLEMANLY! HAVE YOU NO HONOUR?]. What a [CENSORED]...
[Information was distributed to the Police chat by Samuel Mackey following his death. This is not allowed, and normally I'd have made the perpetrator Corrupt, but in this case, due to Alex's unique situation (read: incredibly corrupt police player who's only in Cambridge for a limited period and is quite enjoying dodging police) I'm letting it slide -The Gentleman]
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
I shot him first, getting his knee. He then shot my right foot. [You two really aren't fans of mobility, are you?] He hopped over to me and sworded me.
Thaddeus Valentine reports:
Journal of the Navigators' Guild, 5/11/1006.
MYSTERIOUS MAN WITH SWORD STRIKES DOWN CORRUPT POLICEMANReports are emerging last night of a mysterious incident in the [REDACTED] quarters. A large airship with no identification, resembling an ancient creature known as a "shark", sustained substantial damage in crashing with apparently no external cause. A cloaked man with a large saber strode from the flaming wreckage, and waited in the shadows apparently waiting for someone. Whether this was the corrupt policeman Alexander Hardwick is not know, but upon seeing him Hardwick was taken aback, drawing an old flint-lock pistol and shooting the man in the left knee. Crippled, his opponent drew himself, but the weapon misfired and so he hopped over, slashing him three times and leaving him to bleed out in the gutter.
Anyone with information is urged to contact the city watch, in particular the officer in charge of the case, a certain Mr. Shrike Esquire.
Baron Aliquam II reports:
Rose had insisted that he was ready to get back into the action, but based on the clear liquid that he regularly sipped along the way, the Baron was not so sure...
Aliquam had asked his injured friend to accompany him as he worked his way back across town on a new extended collection route. His route ended right by the guarded court that he had visited previously with Mikasa, and on a whim (knowing that she was yet to have any success) he decided to try paying James Lilley a visit. By this stage Josh was regularly wincing, the strain of the long walk making his bite wound ache.
The Baron was almost relieved when, after they had waited a good while outside the debtor's door, no one responded to his knock.
"Damn it!" exclaimed Josh, "I was ready to show that son of a witch what for... Let's go home and come back tomorrow."
The Baron agreed, admiring the bitter enthusiasm in his accomplice's voice. Since he had run out of charcoal on his day's errands, they left, for once, without a trace.
Shrike reports:
Got him.
Gentleman's Fortune reports:
I received word from Shrike after an [SOCIETY] session that I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's would be at [REDACTED] college bar, which was where we were heading, so he went to get me some weapons.
When we arrived, he was no-where to be found, until the formal people swarmed the room, at which point Shrike made a kill on I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's, and passed me the knife used, still dripping with his blood for me to use on him myself. I lurked around the bar as Shrike distracted him, knowing this to be an out of bounds zone, I planned to wait for him to leave. The horde at the bar did not calm, until eventually I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's was told that the bar was closed, and we made our way to a table away from the bar I (and thus to a legal kill zone) along with one of the other archers (and ex-assassins players).
I knew that my lurking would have aroused suspicion, but tried to keep as normal as possible. I could tell it wasn't working as well as I would have liked, but I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's made no attempt to distance himself from me so I saw that as an encouraging sign. When I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's announced that someone was waiting for him to return to their room, I knew I had to go for the kill, so pulled out the knife and gracefully (his words) stabbed him in the chest, thus claiming my first kill of the game! ^^
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