The Assassins' Guild - Week 4 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 4 NewsAll that's left of Hodor reports:
He was very dead last night.
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
We both fired a lot of nerf bullets which all missed. I attack spidered her arms off. She then kicked the attack spider at me and I lost my legs. I then shot her legs off. I ended things by leaning over and killing her with Barry the trained attack spider. Her boyfriend was most amused.
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
Let ancient buildings resonate
With power-songs of yore;
Let swordsong cry with battle-hate,
Arcane assassin lore.
And let this my announcement be
To all who Versify:
Though the Homeric bard can't see,
He hears my battle-cry.
O vital force! O, godlike Muse,
How has it been so long
Since last I felt your words suffuse
My primal bardic song?
Today I fight, today I prove
I have not lost the skill.
Through alleys old I softly move;
In corners dark, I kill.
Swords shimmer in the dusken-light,
Reflecting yesteryear.
But I've returned, and I must fight:
The way ahead lies clear.
Leaves drift like embers through the mist:
O Umpire dear, beware
For all those whom my sword has kissed
With blacken-bleak despair.
Sir Lucius Resurrectus reports:
I met up this afternoon with Mikasa, Edle von N, in an effort to rid this mortal world of incompetents, and are efforts were rewarded most graciously with not one but multiple more incompetents killed.
At first, we went to [REDACTED COURT], to look for Air Marshal Luther Abbotts-Birdwhistle. But we soon found that the doors could only be opened by a particular device (read a college card) which neither of us possessed. We thus determined to lurk in the shadows until someone else opened the door. Mikasa, Edle von N saw someone exit the building and like a flash, she dashed to the entrance and thus procured a means of entry. We went to the door and we armed ourselves. Outside the room lay a symbol of anarchy, defiance against the police (read a glove pined to the notice board by the middle finger with all other fingers removed!) [The horror!] and we knew that this could be difficult. I tried the door gently, with my gun at the ready, while Mikasa, Edle von N remained at a safe distance ready to finish the job should I die. It was locked shut. I then knocked on the door. A voice asked what I wanted. I said that I had found something in my pigeon hole that I thought was theirs. They tentatively opened the door. I had my gun at the ready and as soon as there was enough of his body exposed, I shot him in the chest, killing him instantly.
We then proceeded to [REDACTED COLLEGE], where we were met by Lyra Silvertongue and Vlad the kindly baker. After much searching, we found the room of Innocent. We prepaid ourselves [Oh yes, the murder tax: I go to confession nightly myself] - I took my trusty sidearm and stood outside the door, while Mikasa, Edle von N armed herself with a automatic (read hornet water gun) and prepared for the worst. I tried the door - it was, again, locked shut. I knocked. This time, there was no ensuing interrogation. The door simply was opened all the way to reveal our target in full view. Without a moments hesitation, I shot her through the chest, leaving yet another incompetent dead.
Mikasa, Edle von N and Vlad the kindly baker then attempted to gain entry to the room of Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society, but their efforts were in vain as their intended victim was not there when they called.
While this was happening, Lyra Silvertongue and myself went hunting for the illusive Alex Hardwick [Illustrious, surely? OH WAIT NOT ANY MORE], but we were unable to find him.
We where then met by Shrike and Gentleman's Wanderlust. We proceeded to the [REDACTED PERFORMANCE VENUE] in an effort to kill Jack Daniels, the incompetent who has evaded the police for so long, due to large quantities of protection (read he lives on a staircase full of fellows). We waited outside and then we waited some more, the cold wind of winter chilling us to the bone. In a moment of distraction, Jack Daniels tried to escape. But fortuitously, Gentleman's Wanderlust followed him back to his college, before striking up a conversation with the victim and then stabbing him.
We then went our separate ways, and I have no knowledge of what happened after.
Vlad the kindly baker reports:
At around 17:40 I saw Big Sam, Lyra Silvertongue and Gentleman's Wanderlust walking along peacefully. They had a brief conversation and suddenly Big Sam was bleeding to death on the pavement! :( I do not know how this can have happened. I certainly had nothing to do with it, for I am a kindly baker! I hope that the perpetrator is brought to justice at once.
Lyra Silvertongue reports:
Vlad the kindly baker and I met up with Mikasa, Edle von N and Sir Lucius Resurrectus in front of [A PORTER'S LODGE]: Mikasa, Edle von N and Sir Lucius Resurrectus had already killed Air Marshal Luther Abbotts-Birdwhistle by this point. Went into [REDACTED COLLEGE], knocked on Innocent's door, she opened it and Sir Lucius Resurrectus shot her in the heart. Mikasa, Edle von N and Vlad the kindly baker went into [REDACTED SEPARATE COLLEGE] to find Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society, but he wasn't in. Sir Lucius Resurrectus, Vlad the kindly baker and I lurked the [REDACTED PUB NOT VISITED BY ASSASSINS] for a little while but turns out the [THERE ARE NO SHADOWY, UNDEFINED POWER STRUCTURES IN CAMBRIDGE] had moved.
Waited around the [REDACTED PLAYROOM] at approaching 5: Gentleman's Wanderlust and Shrike arrived to help. Gentleman's Wanderlust tailed and then killed Jack Daniels on his way back to [REDACTED SAFEISH HAVEN]. Sir Lucius Resurrectus, Mikasa, Edle von N, and Shrike dispersed from the group.
Andrew, Vlad the kindly baker and I went to [REDACTED LANE] to get Big Sam: he exited his house while we were there, we tailed him, I pointed my watergun at him and asked if he was [AN INCOMPETENT], he said yes, and Vlad the kindly baker stabbed him in the back with a folded paper knife.
Then we went to [REDACTED LOCATION] to attempt on [AN INCO], but he was either not in or doing a very good job of pretending to be not in.
Gentleman's Wanderlust reports:
Problem: Man-eating plants might take over the world (source: the show I saw earlier)
Solution: Kill off any people who are might be incompetent enough to let themselves get eaten.
With this realisation, I left one of the main student theatres of our town, and made my way to another, where I knew one such incompetent would be rehearsing for his own show. With great foresight, I had already arranged to meet The Gentleman and His Lady Friend, who would assist me with the kill. Unfortunately, it seems that TG and HLF were at the time enjoying a nice warm bloodbath instead. [Sorry. Duty called and all]
Nonetheless, a squad of six of us came together outside the theatre, including myself, Lyra Silvertongue and Vlad the kindly baker. Following a brief but unexplained commotion, most of the squad was distracted when Jack Daniels left the theatre. I told them to watch the door while I followed to confirm his identity, eventually attacking opposite his college's gates. I shot at him, but his status was unclear, so I stabbed him as he turned to fled. Subsequent ballistic analysis revealed the knife to be an unecessary embellishment.
After reporting back to the rest of the squad (none of whom had noticed the target leave), we split up, and Lyra, Vlad and I continued to the house of an the incompetent criminal, Big Sam. Lyra informed us of a scheme to gain entry to the house, but this proved unnecessary as our target walked out of the building on his way to a celebration of the demise of an incompetent criminal of centuries past. We stalked him down the road before Lyra overtook, confirmed his identity, and then watched as Vlad stabbed him in the back.
On our return to our various colleges (or friend's colleges), we popped into [REDACTED COURT] to visit death upon another incompetent who lived there. However, when we eventually summoned up the courage to knock on their door (after only about ten minutes), there were no signs of life (or of death), so we disbanded and went our own ways.
Hopefully the remaining incompetents will somehow be able to avoid death by man-eating plant until they have been properly dispatched by us.
I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's reports:
So. It all started when Detritus and I decided to take down the entire [THERE ARE NO SHADOWY POWER STRUCTURES IN CAMBRIDGE], in a stunning move to kick off our corruption mad one yo #squadgoals #mandem
Our plan was to have a code-word, to signal when we would begin our betrayal. I decided that our code word would be "creme brulee". I told him that I could work creme brulee into any situation - if you know what I mean. He told me that he didn't really want to know.
It went down like this:
Me: "You know, I have one of those little blowtorches - the ones you use to burn the surface of creme brulee" *significant look at Detritus*
Detritus; "......Alex, do you actually MEAN creme brulee!?"
Me: "Yes, I do actually mean creme brulee."
Detritus: "Yeah but...you know, creme brulee!? Really!?!? Now!?"
Nice one Detritus.
Anyway - after a little comic cross-talking, we took down the cabal. I stabbed His Lady Friend with my sword [Tell me, do you think I'm feeling merciful. Spoiler: I'm not.]. Detritus shot down The Gentleman [Well, shot in the arm, and later coshed, and may have eventually got around to killing me]. It was fun and games. [I'll grant you that one. I was most amused.]
5:30pm. We went to meet Rookie Mann Herbington. We bribed his room-mate (with chocolate) to persuade him out of his bath to come chat to us. Then Detritus shot him. I shot him afterwards, for good measure. He was only wearing a towel, but didn't seem to mind.
6pm. We went for a friendly social call on All that's left of Hodor. She leapt out, and we had a protracted duel on the stairs. She killed Detritus, while I tactically barricaded myself in the toilet and entertained them with election-themed jokes for a while. I then killed All that's left of Hodor with a game of rock-paper-scissors, which is totally a legit weapon.
6:30pm - Along with the luckily-insta-resurrected Detritus, I hit Emmanuel, and killed Vengeful Tears of Pain (Detritus's kill), followed by Kibbles. [You're not making any friends here, you know]
7pm - Detritus and I had a truly epic duel - the Battle of the Corrupts - on Christ's Pieces. Now, see, I am a truly lovely guy, so I let Detritus shoot at me a few times, just to give him a sporting chance. I even shot and missed him twice, just to make him feel better about himself!! Then I elegantly nerfed him in the back. Good times.
After I had gracefully and beautifully out-duelled Detritus, the Umpire resurrected him immediately. Now, see, Detritus had been deeply affected by how devastatingly handsome, brilliantly skilful and incredibly incredibly Corrupt I am. I, the conqueror of his nerf gun and his heart. Detritus fell head-over-heels in love with me, and begged me desperately to be his forever.
Tragically in love, he tailed me all the way to the bus station - begging me to be his. When I politely declined - I'm just out of his league in terms of corruption, y'know - he shamefully shot me in the back. Such was his desperate passion: if he couldn't have me, he didn't want anyone else to have me either.
Ow.
Detritus reports:
Met up with the corrupt I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's and a variety of other characters on Saturday afternoon, including but not limited to: The Gentleman, All that's left of Hodor, Twm Stone, and some others who shall remain nameless. Little to their knowledge, I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's and I had been plotting for days - aware of his visit to Cambridge, we had formulated a number of plans involving codewords and the death of our dinner companions, and my own descent into corruption.
It went more or less to plan - after some initial confusion on my part (he had brought the code word into conversation so naturally, it seemed, that I felt I needed to confirm with him whether or not it had even been intentional) - eventually managing to execute our plan, we left the house we had been in with a scene of destruction behind us.
Proceeding to the city centre, we joined the dots between various well-meaning policemen - Rookie Mann Herbington was deceased as soon as he left the bath; there was a minor kerfuffle in a corridor with All that's left of Hodor, leaving her and me dead and I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's quite pleased with himself, having relieved himself in the bathroom while the battle was still underway , no less... And then a quick stop at [REDACTED COLLEGE] to take out a couple more policemen (both opening their doors unsuspectingly, one involving a complicit staircase-mate) - before ending up on Midsummer Commons, where we dueled before parting ways. It was short but sweet - as we only had one melee weapon between us, we agreed to fight with pistols instead, and, under the light of the fireworks, after each missing a couple of bullets (we were duelling in a very small pool of light under a lamp post on a rather dark night), he struck a glancing hit on my back as I twisted to dodge - oh, so close... [My heart bleeds...]
We then went separate ways (or so he thought) - he had a bus to catch back to Oxford, and I tailed him through the Bonfire Night crowds for nigh on five minutes, donning my signature hat and glasses as I went, melting into the crowd whenever he turned around. Eventually I judged it to have gone on for long enough, and so, accosting him long after he believed himself to be alone and anonymous - I had the last laugh. Take that, I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's...
The Gentleman reports:
Having arranged a social meeting of the [THERE ARE NO SHADOWY POWER STRUCTURES IN CAMBRIDGE] while Alexander Hardwick was back in town, we met up in the pub for a drink, following which we retired to the residence of some random innocents who may or may not have M.A.s. As our meeting concluded, Detritus pulled out a gun and started shooting, while I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's pulled out a sword and stabbed His Lady Friend. I eventually died having been coshed. At least three innocents were also caught in the cross-fire. Meanwhile, just-happened-to-be-there Twm Stone sat there looking amused, having incidentally shot Detritus when he pulled out his gun (but I'd declared him out-of-bounds for the entire thing, so it didn't count).
I can neither confirm nor deny that I saw the entire thing coming and was just too amused to do anything about it...
Twm Stone reports:
THERE ARE NO MA'S IN CAMBRIDGE
(any more)
Twm Stone, PhD
The original scandalous lyrics are here. This piece of infamy inspired several people to record their covers of the song, including Ben Mortishire-Smith, The Versifier, Kim Ward and... well, the Umpire (Alex Hibbert).
Alex Hibbert reports:
Kim Ward reports:
Ben Mortishire-Smith reports:
The Versifier reports:
The Gentleman reports:
Police of Cambridge- I hope you found Alex Hardwick's ("I'd rather go to Oxford than St John's") visit entertaining! For those of you who didn't manage to meet him in person, he's a lovely ex-Umpire who was back in town for the weekend, and spent it valuably killing as many of you as he could find. I resurrected him on request so he didn't get bored (and so we could kill him more) I think we gave as good as we got, though- well done everyone that killed him, and enjoy your promotions!
That said, he has now returned home, and so we must return to normal. Everyone who died over the weekend should be resurrected (email me if not). The Policeman who joined the rebellion will remain Corrupt until his death, and then redeemed. In general, corruption is not desirable, so if he goes corrupt and dies again, he won't resurrect.
The rest of the Assassins population- I hope you found the additional items in the news amusing! We return now to our normal program of scheduled murder.
Sir Lucius Resurrectus reports:
I had gained some intelligence today about how to gain access to the building where Sir Ploratus was staying, so this evening, I set out on my steam-powered contraption (read bike), to make the long journey to his corner of the world. When I got there, it transpired that I did not need the information after all, as I meet someone there whom I asked "where is the [REDACTED BUILDING]?". She replied that she herself was going there and thus she not only showed me the way but also let me in. I told her that I was here to meet a friend and she was convinced. I proceeded along to where I knew his room must be, but as I approached, I saw someone that I recognised and I was alarmed. I turns out that he was talking to Sir Ploratus and thus his door was wide open. Thus it took little to say hello, enter and stab my victim through the heart.
I then teamed up with Mikasa, Edle von N, and we headed first to [REDACTED COURT] to endeavor to kill The General. But sadly, once we had found his staircase, we saw that a card was required to gain access. We waited in case we could tailgate someone else, we then tried to find an alternative root in, and then we waited some more. But no one came and no one went so we resigned ourselves to the fact that we had been foiled on this attempt.
(We did try to find Lydia Boyle, but could not even find the building despite consuting the OS maps (read google maps). [Come and ask me next time, it is in my college, after all]
We then proceeded to [REDACTED COLLEGE], to try to eliminate Mad-emoiselle. We could not find her room. We asked several people the way, but no one knew. We even asked a truculent porter, but he said that he could not help us.
We then proceeded to [ANOTHER COLLEGE], to try to kill Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society, but this time, the entire college was shut. Foiling yet another (and our final) attempt.
We left having spent much effort, but we had little rewards to show for it.
Alas, the life of an assassin is not all milk and honey, but it is often (going by tonight at least) very VERY WET!!!!
Versifier reports:
'Twas the night before Bridgemas, and all through the college,
Not a student was stirring that I could acknowledge;
The city was empty, no-one on the streets,
Except a few drifting to Cindies' 'sick beats'.
But I wasn't cuddled up warm in my bed,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in my head -
I was crouched down hidden by a colonnade,
Preparing to frag a guy with a grenade.
I [CENSORED] hate winter, I'm sure you'll agree -
I'd been waiting to kill him since 19:03,
two hours ago, and my hands had turned blue,
and stunts like this are why I've had fresher's flu
for six [CENSORED] weeks; but I must persevere -
partly through pride, of course, partly through fear
that if the guy saw me before I shot him
he'd shank me before you can say 'Sonny Jim!',
or some such short phrase. But then, loading my darts,
hoping to ambush him as he departs,
I heard a great jangling, up in the sky,
And noticed a wonderful sight passing by:
Eight cantering reindeer pulling a red sleigh
Out crossing the sky on a winter soiree;
And a kindly fellow, with beard and red suit -
I'd tell you his name but the point would be moot -
And he called out to me: 'Merry Bridgemas to all!
What are you up to, down there by the wall?
It's so cold outside, and there's no-one around;
Go lie on a warm bed, instead of the ground.'
'I can't head inside, dearest Santa, St. Nick;
I'm here to kill a guy! See this gun? Hear that click?
He'll be leaving for pre-drinks at about half past nine,
And then I'll lodge this bullet into his spine.
I murder by day and I murder by night;
Only fresh incoblood will whet my appetite.
My hornet's pumped up regardless of the hour -
I even take a triad with me into the shower.'
A benevolent smile glowed across Santa's face,
And I smiled back, warmed through by his radiant grace;
And he said to me, bathed in a stream of moonlight,
'You are so [CENSORED] weird' - and flew off for the night.
[I'm glad [CENSORED] has the same number of syllables as [CENSORED] -TG]
Detritus reports:
Accosted Postman Pat outside lectures with a lightsabre. This time I wasn't attacking a corpse.
Detritus reports:
13:00 I visited Gentleman's Fury and this time didn't shoot him while we were talking. Instead I persuaded him to join me on a crusade of destruction.
13:05 Gentleman's Fury shot Feynman [who was already dead, incidentally, and hadn't joined the Police...].
13:06 I lightsabred Graves and we also persuaded him to join our cause.
13:55 I ran The auto barber of fleet street through with a sword outside [location redacted].
[Fascinating, remind me to check the rest of my force for traces of 'loyalty' -TG]
Graves reports:
To the Gentleman,
I have just been killed by the dastardly Sergeant Detritus by naively opening the door, having lost my assassin's paranoia when I died the first time... Would it be possible to be resurrected please to continue police work*? :)
Regards,
Graves
*Please note I may or may not have intentions to join Ben in his quest, he was rather convincing ;) [Hmmmm]
Gentleman's Fury reports:
From 12:40-1:20PM on the 7/11/2016 I participated in a series of killings with another fellow corrupt police member.
At 12:40 I was invited to join the corrupt police and accepted, We armed up, and proceeded to sweep through [REDACTED COLLEGE] killing Police members.
At approximately 12:50PM Gentleman's Fury executed via a knife to the back (following a missed shot) the Police officer at the bottom of F staircase (who's name I can't currently recall) [And who wasn't actually Police...] and my accomplice subsequently killed Graves At the top of F staircase via light-saber after a cunning persuasion of entry.
From this we separated and have gone our own ways. Since this separation I have stalked and killed the Police officer Gentleman's Kindness after he ate lunch via a surprise shot to the stomach.
3 Officers have been killed in Total within [REDACTED], at least one other including myself has agreed to join the corrupt cause.
Many thanks, [Thanks? I SHOULD THUNDERBOLT YOU WHERE YOU STAND!]
Gentleman's Fury
Gentleman's Kindness reports:
A friend I hold dear shot me today on my way to my room. I was shocked to see him draw on me. His betrayal hurts more than the wound he inflicted.
He revealed himself to be part of the corrupt police force, and asked me to join their ranks.
As I lay dying on the flagstones, I'm considering his request.
A corrupt life is better than death. [I literally resurrected you 10 minutes later]
Gentleman's Kindness
Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] reports:
Have spent a total of FOUR AND A HALF HOURS today staking out a target, including an hour of that with my shadowy ally Mikasa, Edle von N. Said target apparently does not like lectures, hall or going outside, or has perhaps left Cambridge entirely. [I mean, their paranoia game certainly seems on-point...] My hands are as cold as the heart of a snowman that has never known love. I feel vengeful and somewhat nippy.
- Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation]
Steamed Broccoli reports:
Went for a late night cycle
My phone GPS died
Even though I tried
I got lost on a late night cycle
Steam Powered Giraffe reports:
I was stabbed by Lord Deathstone at 10:00 8/11 while waiting for an incompetent outside a lecture, since he was my target and so I was valid for him.
Ah well, competence is rewarded - after failing to kill someone (twice), it's best to always be aware of them, even when the incompetent you are after moves directly into sight. I lapsed and was sprung out of the system.
Lord Deathstone reports:
As i exited the lecture theatre this morning, I saw the familiar face of Steam Powered Giraffe, whom i recognised as an assassin due to his previous attempts on my life. I thought he was again here to kill me, but he hadn't seen me, so i snuck up behind him and stabbed him in the back.
Cheep Cheep reports:
Detritus is very good at determining whether someone purporting to tie their shoe 10m away is, in fact, tying their shoe. A+ observational skills.
I would say he 'ran' away, but that doesn't really do justice to the grace of movement that Detritus produced. He leapt. He flew. He bounded away like a majestic, liberated gazelle. [Being in the area myself, I was personally impressed by his elegant grace]
Went back to Lydia Boyle's house. They still do not like lectures.
Cheep Cheep will do better tomorrow.
Cornelius Grey reports:
"To the Captain of the Day watch, Shrike
If I was to take up your bounty on the others, would they count as licit kills?
Signed, Contess Wells."
The Letter, baring the Countess' signature was enclosed with a message from the chief of Police.
"Countess Wells is moving to betray you, it seems. I am not happy about this. See, as CoP, my job is to enforce the rules, and, while I have some autonomy to shape things, I'm not here to alter the ultimate course of the game. That's why I'm going to help you; the death of the other two won't make much difference to the overall outcome of the game, but you're different. Organised, keen, ambitious, suitably paranoid, and not to mention quick on the draw; I believe you have a decent chance of winning. After my death, I had to make some show of wanting revenge (and I do, but I'll be satisfied with the breakup of the mafia, rather than your personal death) else I'd lose face. It's got a tad out of hand now, and the prospect of your death because of my involvement is not appealing. She's done well to mask her online presence; I never would have found her under the name [REDACTED], it's so simple and so left field that we never saw it coming; on incobash day, the only photo we could find of her was an old one from her college days. I've not responded, so hopefully she'll wait a while in the hope that I will, but how long for is anyone's guess.
Anyway, we (well, you) will have to tread carefully now; I've seen enough mafias implode (as, I suspect, so have you through the archives) to know that when the shit hits the fan, it hits it hard and repeatedly. People typically see one of their number moving against the others as the que for a free-for-all until there"s only one left (see basically any report from Curtis Reubens [THERE ARE NO CURTIS JAMES REUBENSES IN CAMBRIDGE!]). As I said, I aim to see that you are that one. From the report depicting the shadowy meeting (very stylish by the way) where you all laughed at the idea I could prompt a betrayal, I take it that you three are the main group, with another rogue subgroup. If you tell Kenway about this, I would expect him to move against you, or race you to Wells for the competence and kills towards becoming a frontrunner later in the game, in anticipation of the dissolution of your agreement. Ultimately, you know him well enough to know if that's a good call or not, but my experience is that when one turns on the others, so does everyone else.
So, how to actually do it; if she's your target, you've had a result and can kill her with impunity and no risk. If she's not, then you'll have to be a little sneakier to avoid going wanted; I'd still kill her the next time you see her, and then immediately kill Kenway for redemption. If you report them together, you shouldn't even make it on to the list. It would obviously have to be a licit kill to redeem you, so the best way of getting that is to make it look like you want to kill him, such that he tries to draw, and then you kill him for bearing. The best way to make him draw is to stand a short (but believable) distance away from him, and shoot 'at' him, aiming wide such that you miss, he thinks you've got him as a target, tries to draw to defend himself, and then you off him properly as soon as you see the weapon, before he can use it, all nice and licit. [Because that went so well last Michaelmas...] If you have either of them as your target, just kill the other first, and then make that one your redemption kill, without needing to take any chances.
You'll then have the question of what to do about the subgroup; if you think they're sufficiently far removed from you that they can't get at you, then you can just ignore them, but that runs the risk that on the dissolution of your alliance, any of them who had you as a target might kill you. I'd recreate the "accidental" missing scenario that I explained above with each of them. You could try that technique on Wells, but if you did, I'd make sure you're a good distance away, because she"s probably ready to kill you on sight, and the betrayal already on the brain means she might be less surprised than the others (and thus quicker on the draw) when you start shooting.
I think that's about all the help I can offer you. I'm sorry again that my petty, kneejerk scheme for vengeance has nearly gotten you killed.
I hope you get it in time...
Shrike out"
The message was currently being delivered to Cornelius Grey via a payed street urchin. It was the Countess' message that reached him first though.
"Grey... we need to talk."
It was then sent with a similar message from Kenway to Shrike, complete with signature. Of course, at the time, Grey had no idea of the letter currently being delivered to him.
((If the slightly edited tone confuses you, basically, we got sent screenshots of faked facebook pages, all of which contained a 'message' sent from one of our number indicating our intentions to betray the other two)).
If Cornelius Grey had been familiar with such things, he might have noticed that Kenway's signature was obviously faked, but alas, although he had his suspicions, he could reveal nothing that told him the information was faked.
Kenway... would Kenway betray them? The chances were that he wouldn't, but...
Well, here was evidence to the contrary. Perhaps... just perhaps...
If nothing else, there was a risk here... perhaps not a high one, but enough to make Grey worried. If there was a risk involved, then it was his job now to take steps to minimise it.
Still, why would Kenway ask Shrike for confirmation of the restrictions placed on the assassins by the Gentleman and not go directly to the Gentleman himself? For that matter, didn't he understand the restrictions well enough to not have to ask?
A lot of this didn't make sense... but damn it, there was still a risk, and Grey's paranoia demanded that he took steps to eradicate that risk.
Grey checked the position of 'Sheila', a weapon he had named after the woman he had believed himself to love, but who he had never had the courage to speak to.
He could at least confide in the gun... a gun that he understood inside and out, a weapon that he had designed to revolutionise small scale warfare such as this competition between assassins.
And so, as he went to meet Wells, he seemed to be talking to himself, and quite a frantic discussion it was.
The two didn't take long to hatch a plan. The moment Kenway returned, they'd disarm him and then bring him before the guild of messengers. They would keep a record of all of the messages sent out by anybody within the area. They'd need Kenway to access them, but if he had no record of a message sent to Shrike, that would clear his name.
If he did, they'd search for an explanation.
Still, Kenway's greatest weapon was his silver tongue. They couldn't afford to give him a moment to think of a suitable lie.
And then, in a flash, he arrived, and Grey, later to his regret and his embarrassment, actually moved to confront his ally.
Of course, it was the work of moments to clear Kenway's name. Even as they stepped into the messenger's guild, Kenway was handed a message indicating that Cornelius himself was the one intending to betray them... and it would have to be the eagle eyed Kenway who instantly picked out the seven ways in which the message was obviously forged.
That damned idiot had made him suspect his friend... and what's more, that suspicion had made him draw a weapon on his friend. He'd pointed Sheila at Kenway!
What kind of moron did that make him? What kind of stupid, untrusting and overly paranoid fool would suspect their own friend?
Yes, maybe his reaction had been justified for even the smallest suspicion, but why...
It was all very well and good making excuses in hindsight, but there was nothing to be done about the past for now. Instead, Grey sat down on the floor of the messenger's guild and tried to think of some fate terrible enough for the current chief of police.
Somehow, fifty thousand volts straight to the nipples didn't seem like it would suffice.
Neither did a good old fashioned seven shots through the brain... he'd just come back again anyway. Perhaps if he buried the man alive under a mountain of maggots... but then he'd only survive for later anyway.
It was only then that the street urchin, panting, stumbled in on Grey and handed him his own letter.
What the hell?
What was this Shrike guy's deal anyway?
And damn it, why wasn't there a decent source of tea in here? He needed something to calm his nerves.
Shrike reports:
I was a tad miffed, shall we say, to find that the [THERE ARE NO INCOBASH-TEAM KILLING MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE!] hardcore yet lives, and that they'd issued a report of some hackneyed shadowy meeting where they all sat around laughing at the idea that I could make them betray one another, while they pointed guns at each other and *super duper promised* not to do any double crossing. Far more fun to read than their mocking was the message I got through the police grapevine that one of their mafia wanted to know if my posting a bounty on them made them licit (that part is actually true, I just used creative licence to turn it to my advantage).
Taking inspiration, I decided to give the ones who'd answered my bounty a bit of a nudge...
With initial help from Songbird, I forged a message from each the three, asking if they could start killing, and sent it to each of the three in a triangle, along with a message why I wanted that particular one to be the last one alive, playing on Grey's ego, acting apologetic to Wells, and pretending to Kenway that I was mainly angry with Grey. I sent the forged message from Wells to Grey, telling him to kill her, the forged message from Kenway to Wells, telling her to kill him, and the forged message from Grey to Kenway. The images and text are attached.
If that doesn't put the cat among the pigeons, then nothing I can do will, and I'll just have to wait until they betray one another anyway, die, or go inco...
[I wasn't completely happy about my Chief of Police's machinations, although somewhat amused, and any negative consequences would have made him Corrupt. That said, there doesn't seem to have been any harm done here. And they were very good machinations... -TG]
Cornelius Grey reports:
So... his methods were too loud and noisy for the upper class lady's fragile demeanour, eh? His weapons lacked the 'refined' edge of the simple knife?
Very well, if she wished to be like that, then so be it... but Grey had a rather ironic way in mind of getting his revenge. Locked inside his room, he had begun transferring Sheila's mechanism into other weapons, using springs, gears and wires, he assembled a second weapon, then a third... then a fourth. Without the funding of the university, none of them were quite at the level of Sheila (his original weapon), but he was somewhat proud of all of them. He then selected the largest, most impressive and overall most conspicuous weapon he had created and presented it to Wells.
Somehow, for some reason, she had been utterly delighted with the gift. She had even been willing to drag her attention away from Kenway for long enough to thank him.
Kenway was also fairly well armed by the time that Grey was done. Eager to try out their new weapons, the three assassins made a beeline for [REDACTED HOUSE], intending to kill off a few targets and then walk away into the sunset.
Of course, things never worked out that well, did they?
What they were unaware of was simply how many assassins were living in that hive of... well, it wasn't exactly filled with scum and villainy, but apparently half of the population were assassins.
------------------------------------------------
The three had to stake out the building for about 20 minutes to gain access. Eventually, they managed to get the attention of a friendly looking individual (how deceiving such looks can be) who was willing to let them in. Once more, Kenway took charge of doing the talking, and as the three had rehearsed, took out a pad of paper.
"Excuse me, I'm with the international student union. Would you be interested in taking a short survey about Brexit?"
It sounded just about obscure enough that it might just work. What Brexit was, Grey had no clue (especially since he existed in a steampunk universe), but he had been assured that it sounded believable. [Well, yes. Haven't you heard that Pan-Europa is attempting to disengage its political infrastructure from Greater Britain, following the recent epidemic of mad inventors emigrating over and causing chaos?]
After getting this VERY FRIENDLY looking individual's opinions on leaving the European union and giving her a doughnut in return, the three moved onwards.
Of course, after such a well planned endeavour, it would have to be that all of their targets were out. In frustration, Grey took out a pen and wrote on each of their doors, leaving them a message (read: I left them post sticks informing them to be IN next time for free food).
Of course, the three were then left with a bag of doughnuts and nothing to do with them... so, naturally, Kenway decided to try and get some more information about who in the area was an assassin and began knocking on doors, offering doughnuts in return for information on whatever 'Brexit' was. (By the way, our survey shows that in general, cambridge students in [REDACTED HOUSE] believe it to be a 'pretty bad thing').
What was surprising was just how many people opened their doors only a crack and chose to decline a free doughnut.
In fact, one even appeared behind the three with a gun.
"So... are you three assassins?"
Grey mentally weighed up his chances... the man had a triad gun... which about matched the range of Grey's own weapon... but he'd have to draw it and shoot... he chose not to take the shot and instead simply frowned as if confused.
"What?"
He looked to the other two, as if trying to figure out how to respond. The other two, to their credit, managed to also look suitably confused.
"Oh... right, you're actually taking a survey... sorry for being so rude, it's just there's a game going on that-"
Maybe if he could just get a bit closer, he could make the shot... as it was, the guy was half covered by a doorway. Grey simply wouldn't have been able to manage it at this range...
Alright, new plan. He slowly approached.
"No problem... what's the game about?"
This man wasn't one of his targets... he wasn't licit unless he was bearing... wait a second, who in the world referred to the 'competition' as a 'game'... people were dying here and this person was here for fun?
Sadly, he was unable to keep him talking for long enough to move into a clear line of sight.
"Right... hold my shoes."
Grey cracked his knuckles, slipped out of his shoes and started towards the next door. It was at this point that Kenway and Wells each took one of his arms and practically carried him out. In retrospect, they were probably right... borrowing somebody else's shoes was unlikely to work this time.
It should, however, be noted that during this whole incident, Kenway was concealing not one, not two, but three fairly large weapons under his jacket and Wells was walking around with an assault rifle (nerf retaliator) under her coat. Grey himself was only concealing a single weapon, the one he had named 'Sheila'. Still, they left calling cards on the doors of those who were obviously assassins... hopefully you will get reports from each of them, dear Gentleman.
On the way back, they ran into the VERY FRIENDLY individual once more.
"Ah... you three are back. I did message the others, just in case you tried to kill somebody."
Wait, what?!
Just how many assassins were there in that place?
And how had none of them noticed Wells' rifle poking out from behind her head?
On the plus side, the survey had been surprisingly successful.
Marcus Kenway reports:
Cornelius Grey, Countess Wells and I decided to check out [REDACTED HOUSE] since we had multiple targets there.
After waiting for a short while, we got in claiming to conduct a survey about Brexit and international affairs.
None of our targets were home unfortunately, so we left notes foretelling their imminent demise.
On the way we met a few more assassins (the building is a nest apparently) and left notes and donuts for good measure.
Countess Wells reports:
"And what on earth is that, exactly?"
After Grey had demonstrated his invention against the police squad, he had kindly offered to equip Wells and Kenway with some weaponry more suited to the modern assassination business. It was a generous offer, and one they'd gladly accepted. In retrospect, Wells wasn't sure what she'd expected from the inventor, but she was fairly certain it hadn't been a static-electric discharge rifle almost as long as she was tall.
"This is Sasha", Grey beamed.
Sasha. [Who touched Sasha? WHO TOUCHED MY GUN?] Of course. He was inordinately fond of naming his creations. After several attempts, Wells managed to position Sasha inside her greatcoat so that she could draw the weapon easily enough without it being on display, but it wasn't the subtlest approach to a kill she'd ever make. [YOU TRY HIDING A BLOODY NERF RETALIATOR INSIDE A JACKET WHEN YOU'RE NOT MUCH TALLER THAN IT. I DARE YOU.] [Those square brackets aren't me, by the way. Just clarifying.]
It had been discovered that they both had various targets in lodgings on the outskirts of the town, and a raid had been arranged for the afternoon. Grey's weaponry couldn't have been offered too soon - by the number of targets they had heard of in the building, it was likely to be a nest of assassins, armed and paranoid. Wells had been on missions before, but never one that felt quite so suicidal. She couldn't help but wonder whether they would all survive the day.
The walk was a long one, and not the easiest with the static rifle, but eventually they made their way to [REDACTED HOUSE], ready to strike. Of course, there was the small matter of finding the correct building. Having walked up and down the street, accidentally wandered into an entirely different college, and asked two pedestrians for directions, the group finally located [REDACTED HOUSE]. Their cover was in place: Kenway, ever the actor, would get them inside under the pretext of taking an opinion survey on the European political situation, offering fresh-baked goods as an incentive, while Wells and Grey stood behind him and smiled and tried not to look as though they were concealing large weapons in their coats. By some miracle, it worked- one doughnut was traded for one opinion ["Brexit is bad" - A Politics Student], and they were inside.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said of their targets. Wells knocked on the doors of each of her targets in the building, but there was silence from both. She sighed, resigning herself to another day without bloodshed. Grey had had no more luck than she, and so they left polite notes for their would-be victims and continued through the building, in the hope of gathering some intelligence on when they might expect their targets to return.
The first door they knocked upon was silent. The second was opened only a crack; clearly, they'd stumbled across an assassin whom they hadn't yet been assigned as a target. He curtly turned down their offering of doughnuts and closed the door again.
As her compatriots moved on to the next room, however, Wells felt a prickling on the back of her neck. Something had the potential to go wrong. Sure enough, while Grey and Kenway were interviewing the next participant, there came the sound of a door being slowly eased open - and, almost but not quite disguised by the voices around her, the unmistakeable click of a firearm being cocked.
Attempting to maintain a calm expression, she glanced over her shoulder. The paranoid assassin was watching them carefully. His hands were both concealed at this angle, but she had no doubt he was clutching a pistol behind the door, ready to fire on their backs at the slightest provocation. This mission had been a mistake. They were stuck in the middle of a labyrinthine boarding house with no quick exit route, surrounded by an unknown number of enemies, unable to drop their charade and run without provoking a hail of bullets. He was between them and the stairs. Perhaps one of them might be able to get a headshot, but there was no way he wouldn't make a kill before they could.
But, as he watched the interview progress, something miraculous happened: he actually seemed to buy their cover story. Eventually, the door behind them was closed again, and Wells breathed a silent sigh of relief. They continued down the corridor, but the majority of rooms seemed to be empty. Unsurprising, really - it was a long walk to the centre of the town, and she doubted most of the inhabitants would bother to make the return trip in the middle of the afternoon. As they turned to leave, the door of the paranoid assassin was opened once more.
"...You guys aren't assassins, are you?" [I mean, 10/10 for directness]
Their reactions bordered on comical, but once more, he seemed to believe them. They asked polite questions about his line of work and how on earth he had gotten involved in such a business, and he apologised for his earlier brusqueness. "A lot of people in this house are assassins - probably about half of us - so you might not get many responses. I thought you'd come to kill me earlier." As if to underline this point, he actually waved his pistol around in front of them. Wells nearly gasped aloud at his audacity. Did he really think he was that safe, that he could openly bear arms in front of them? But of course, there was no way they could safely fire against him - not along the full length of the corridor, and not with the three of them standing in the open. They thanked him cheerfully and left. No blood had been shed - but nor had any of their own.
Detritus reports:
Please improve your handwriting, your post-its are basically illegible
Cornelius Grey reports:
The three later made another visit to [REDACTED COLLEGE]. Thankfully, they were able to get past the guard dogs (Porters) this time. Grey had spent some time watching them and finding out who they let past and who they turned away (read: I looked up the visiting times for [REDACTED COLLEGE]) and by now knew how to gain the three entrance. However, they had been unprepared for their next challenge.
"Another bloody locked door."
Sadly, waiting around for ten minutes outside of [REDACTED STAIRCASE] failed to yield any results as nobody attempted to get in or out, so the three were forced to leave due to other commitments.
Marcus Kenway reports:
We decided to check out our target in [REDACTED] again, but couldn't get in due to several locked doors.
After waiting for a while, we had to leave to do other things.
Countess Wells reports:
It was agreed as they returned that they ought to make another attempt on Thaddeus Valentine at [REDACTED COLLEGE]. He was a licit target of both herself and Kenway, and also [FLATTERING DESCRIPTION GOES HERE]. Perhaps it was foolish to try their luck against him so soon after their lucky escape from [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE], but they had the time, and they certainly had the firepower. They had attempted to pay him a visit earlier in the week, but had unfortunately been foiled when the porters of the building refused them access at night. A shame. Still, it was most pleasant to wander through the grounds of [REDACTED COLLEGE] by day, and to admire the fine old buildings and elegant gardens.
Less pleasant, perhaps, was the rabbit warren of more modern buildings which housed their target - and less easy to enter. It seemed that without identification declaring their affiliation to [REDACTED COLLEGE], there was no way in. Bloodshed would have to wait another day. Still, Wells reflected as they made their return, perhaps it's best that we have a little more time to prepare...
At any rate, target practice with Sasha was going to be interesting.
Mad-emoiselle reports:
Earlier this evening myself and Mikasa, Edle von N went hunting and made an attempt on Marquess Irene Rowena de Redmonde and we killed Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society.
We spent 5 minutes outside Marquess Irene Rowena de Redmonde's room, knocking loudly, however there were no signs of life from inside and the neighbors were looking suspicious so we chose to flee instead of risk an ambush. We then went to visit Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society: Mikasa approached the door while I hung back with a water pistol. We knocked and when he didn't reply, offered week five blues cupcakes. He accepted the offer and met a swift, cupcake-followed death (I supplied the cupcakes, Mikasa supplied the murder).
Mikasa, Edle von N reports:
Dear Umpire,
This evening I met up with the lovely Mad-emoiselle for our mutual benefit to hunt down targets â?? Mad-emoiselle seeks to make a name for herself, while I felt that a sacrifice to the assassin Gods could help prevent the victory of a certain blonde, Republican [CENSORED] across the pond tonight. [Sadly, the abilities of the dark power in the heart of Cambridge do not exceed the city limits... -TG] Meeting outside [AN ARBITRARY COLLEGE], we proceeded to discuss tactics and weaponry with a shadowy ally in [REDACTED COLLEGE] before heading off to [ANOTHER COLLEGE], where Mad-emoiselle's target was to be found.
Creeping up the stone staircase, I stood back and kept watch while Mad-emoiselle firmly knocked on the door, gun in hand, preparing to take down her target. Despite signs of inhabitance, the corridor remained silent and after a few minutes of waiting, and a second knock, we ascertained that for now, our target would evade us. Making our swift exit, we found ourselves wandering in the direction of [A FOURTH COLLEGE], where my elusive target Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society resided. Determined to finally take him out after several fruitless attempts, I lead the now-familiar way to his tower room, with Mad-emoiselle a few paces behind, ever vigilant.
Reaching the top of the tower, I hesitated, determined not to be thwarted once more, when Mad-emoiselle suggested a devious and brilliant plan. Handing me a box of freshly baked cupcakes, we determined a cruel and tempting way to lure him out of his dwelling â?? with the promise of welfare cake. Hiding my contractable laser sword behind the innocent box, I knocked, declaring my "free cake!" intentions with a chirpy voice and a friendly smile.
Sergius, reassured by my friendly demeanour and apparent lack of weaponry, opened his door hesitantly and smiled before being promptly decapitated with a laser. I left a cake with his corpse for good measure.
Let's hope that Sergius Peramus, Fellow of the Assassinatory Society's noble sacrifice will not be in vain, and may the chance of victory of he-who-must-not-be-named across the pond be destroyed!
-Mikasa
Countess Wells reports:
Countess Wells made her way warily through the darkened streets. So far, she'd survived on attempt on her life, that she knew of. But after today, [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE] knew of her existence - and the kill deadlines were tightening for everyone. She clutched her single-shot pistol tightly and hurried on.
Safe in her rooms, she wired to her compatriots to arrange their dinner meeting. Promptly, a knock was heard at the door. Unsurprising - her fellow assassins could be relied upon for punctuality, especially where food was involved. "Who is it?" she called, fully expecting a familiar voice to reply.
There was only silence.
Wells picked up the pistol as she approached the door. "Who is it?" she repeated. This didn't bode well. There was an indistinct reply in a voice she'd never heard before. Blast it all. It seemed she'd been found.
She opened the door just enough to see a gentleman who most certainly did not attend this college standing awkwardly outside, hands conspicuously held behind his back. "Are you Countess Wells, by any chance?"
"You're here to kill me."
"...Yes."
Well, it was marvellous to see that the old lesson of Prepare your cover story before you make an attempt was being upheld. She ought to have shot him on the spot, and she probably could have. But instead she closed the door. She'd had enough near misses for one day. Someone else could take this particular shot, for now.
Viceroy Sir Rupert Bellchamber-Darling reports:
A flurry of activity this evening on an after-dinner jaunt with my dear friend box of socks: after failed attempts at a couple of other colleges prior, we settled upon the labyrinthine confines of the [REDACTED HOSTEL], surmising that it was no doubt ridden with the scourge upon our society that is the [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE]. Having tried to contact our target via the sound telegraph unit on the front of his abode, but to no avail, we were fortunate enough to happen upon another chap who lived in the vicinity who let us in when we revealed that we had a 'letter' to give to our mutual acquaintance.
After some effort, we located his chamber, deep in the bowels of the house- I then proceeded to knock on his door. Once. Twice. Three times. "Hello?" I called. A rumbling, and then the handle turned and a nervous face appeared. "So, err, there's been a bit of a mix up at the Porters' Lodge, I got this letter that was meant for you, err, it's in my friend's rucksack." box of socks then stepped forwards and rummaged in his bag, "Oh yes, I've got this for you!" *Produces piece of paper* "And I've got this too!" *Stabs target with knife*. Unfortunately, at this point it was noted that box of socks had the wrong knife, this one was clearly just a pen- I thus swooped in to bring a swift end to proceedings with my own trusty standard-issue weapon.
Considering he'd just expired, Corvo Attano held excellent conversation for a good while after the incident, once this had finished, the [THERE ARE NO OTHER MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE] faded once more into the darkness...
box of socks reports:
A box of socks appeared outside Corvo Attano's door. Upon opening the box, he saw that the box had no lethal potential whatsoever. Unfortunately while he was concentrating on divining the contents of the box, he was promptly stabbed by Viceroy Sir Rupert Bellchamber-Darling.
Graves reports:
Hi,
Just a quick note that I have subsequently re-killed Cricket as he had now joined the police so he could join us as a corrupt member (I don't think we need to kill him for him to join but its seems some kind of initiation ritual haha).
Warm regards,
Graves
[What are some of my Police members on? I want some... -TG]
Cheep Cheep reports:
Cheep Cheep said they would do better today...Cheep Cheep was slightly mistaken. [Slightly? -TG] Cheep Cheep did manage to kill the Titan Sir Watt-Watt outside his lectures, but not before killing a doppelganger. Who, by the way, was running about the hallway saying 'If your name is 'Watt-Watt', stay away from her!' so it's frankly a miracle the real Watt-Watt didn't hear him.
Cheep Cheep kindly awaits your visits.
With love and acute anxiety,
Cheep Cheep
Thaddeus Valentine reports:
Am I allowed to shoot through a letter hole. Because I just did
[Not under rule 2.8 you're not, no...]
Twm Stone reports:
[For those who haven't heard and are confused, Twm's wheel came off his bike while he was riding at speed. He hit his head, meaning memories of his mad one that afternoon are a little foggy... (but he seems alright now)]
Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] reports:
Just another cog:
So my sleep-deprived and Trump-depressed self was less cautious than usual and decided to stab a guy who looked like Sir Watt-Watt without somehow clarifying first. Rookie mistake, kids. Always verify your murders. So I knew I had to get out of Dodge (or [REDACTED HOME COLLEGE] [REDACTED COURT]) as quickly as humanly possible and find an inco to kill to get myself off the list, since having enough pseudonyms to almost populate a rugby team tends to make one a juicy target.
Scurrying off to the hill, I met with [SHADOWY ALLY] and tried to kill a Medwards inco, but they weren't in, so we stayed about dithering about who to attempt on and wandering about hoping a certain [REDACTED COLLEGE] inco would come to hall. Eventually I discovered that a member of [REDACTED HOME COLLEGE] was inco, so decided to head back into town and stored my weapons in my [SHADOWY ALLY]'s backpack. Rookie mistake.
We were walking out of college when I heard a shriek of "Thaddeus Valentine!" Sure enough, the man himself was at the door, wielding an umbrella sword, and I had nothing but a tiny jolt on me, so my reaction was to attempt to sprint away across the very slippery, muddy ground. I am not a sprinter. Thaddeus Valentine is much more of one. And so I ended up on my back on the grass, dead, staring up at the sky and wondering where it all went wrong.
-
No Stone UnTwrned:
He didn't even GO THERE to KILL ME he just STUMBLED ACROSS ME like a KID with a METAL DETECTOR finding a PRICELESS GOLD COIN in a RUBBISH TIP. Why can't I have that kind of luck?! I go to an inco's house attempting to STUMBLE UPON SOMETHING, I end up stumbling across their CARDLOCK, OVERLY INQUISITIVE NEIGHBOURS, and DOING IN my GOOD SHOES in their GUTTER. I spent an hour this morning in a HEDGE.
also I'm pretty sure this pseudonym is NOT GOING TO HELP in my quest to CONCEDE the FANGIRL AWARD.
-
mostly harmless:
14 kills
- 'mostly'
-
Cheep Cheep:
Cheep Cheep apologises that they cannot carry on their reincarnation further into the game, but Cheep Cheep's pseudonym-holder hopes to continue stirring the pot and bringing up glorious past traditions further into the game.
Love, Cheep Cheep
-
SCOURGE:
The SCOURGE upon competents has ceased from my end, but it BEGINS upon certain members of the police population. Lock your doors. Lock your windows. Put the cat out.
- SCOURGE
-
The Diarist:
Today President Trump was elected, I died at least twice, and the trout in hall was somewhat less than satisfactory.
9/11/2016
-
The Tab:
Tab Tries: Ceasing to Exist as a Publication
This proves to be a popular choice.
-
Versifier (my nearest and dearest pseudonym):
Do not hear of my death and cry
in minor keys for passing years
that I did fall so fast and die
to him beheld in all my fears.
Winter and spring are just the same;
patience is worth a lesser breath;
I played a helter-skelter game;
I died a helter-skelter death.
I loved it all, I'll fast admit,
and given time I'll love it more.
A catch in heart, a flash of knife,
a slight crack in the eastern door -
there is a passion in it, love,
one that can take you over.
But for all that I know of love
I've always preferred it sober.
I don't have much of fine technique,
sharp-shot or bullets wrought in gold.
But I have treasures left to seek,
and they are beauty to behold.
[Beautiful. In related news, one of my CoPs, Lyra Silvertongue, was accomplicing Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] while the latter was Wanted. This is very much against the purpose of the Police force (you were supposed to kill her!), so Lyra Silvertongue has gone Corrupt. Now, if my loyal Police could actually do something about Corruption in their ranks, that would be great... -TG]
Graves reports:
Dear Umpire,
Having a spare hour, myself and Special Lance-Constable [I am so changing your ranks] Gentleman's Fury went looking for police and incompetents alike. Walking up the stairs to see the new police recruit Psychofreshery Personified sitting happily on the floor with a laptop, I shot her without hesitation before giving her two Chelsea buns because we're nice (albeit slightly corrupt) [Slightly?! I REGRET THE DAY I EVER RAISED YOU FROM THE DEAD!] policeman officers :)
Regards,
Graves
Gentleman's Fury reports:
Dear Honorable Gentleman,
Today beginning at 5:15PM Myself and Sgt. Graves plotted to go on a Inco-Police (that is Incompetent police) spree, however hard pressed for time, we devised a plan to make the biggest message with the fewest kills. [One would have thought a note would have sufficed, if that was your intent...]
I suggested to Sgt. Graves we should kill the new-to-the-police Psychofreshery Personified, but as we approached her college she announced she was targeting an Inco, we decided to split up, I would wait outside her room, And Graves would look for the Inco's room and await her arrival there.
Graves excellently dispatched of Psychofreshery Personified with a shot to the torso, and we left the building. New members of the police beware. [Is this how you welcome your new comrades?]
- Gentleman's Fury
The Gentleman reports
Another good social! Enough of us that we needed to extend to an extra table met up in the Bath House for a pubmeet around 7pm. Star of the evening was the recently-deceased Daniella (Dani) Cugini, who had many, many entertaining stories about her life. Also notable was Ben Mortishire-Smith, who attempted to corrupt my new policewoman [NO THIS ONE WILL REMAIN LOYAL OUT OF ALL OF MY INCREDIBLY CORRUPT POLICE FORCE]. We ate, drank, talked, swapped stories, and played a couple of games of Coup (mostly notable for the Umpire getting taken out in short order, followed by showdowns between Andrew Browne and Thomas Carey). The meeting went on until around 10pm, when we decided it was probably time to start the (in some cases long) walk home...
A very enjoyable evening for all! It was great to see everyone that came. There's one last pubmeet this term at the Granta in two weeks, towards the end of the game, plus a few more events- have a look at the socials page for the complete list!
Cornelius Grey reports:
"Look... it's not that difficult. All you have to do is-"
And just like that, he knew. Knowledge had been imparted directly to him from the umpire. He knew where to find the information that he needed, the information that had so far eluded him. Cornelius grinned to himself and began the research that would lead to a long day of 'work' the next day.
The next day, taking nothing but his repeating machine pistol (Sheila) and a bag full of paperwork with him, he set up around his next target's abode.
Once, this would have bothered him... once, the bloodshed would have caused him some discomfort. Now, he simply sat down and waited. They'd be here... the umpire had given him the means to know that they'd be here.
(Read: The umpire informed me of an ingenious way to find out the lecture timings of somebody if you know what subject they study). [I pointed out that timetable.cam.ac.uk is a thing at the social the previous night. I had no idea people didn't know it was a thing. I should compile a list of 'basic things every assassin should know'...]
About 20 minutes into his stakeout, Grey began to feel uncomfortable. See, he had failed to account for one thing when he had decided to go for this kill. He had forgotten just how cold it would be, sitting on a stone staircase which was partially open to the outside air.
And then the door opened. His 'target' looked around herself, then walked out with two wires protruding from her ears... Grey carefully put his papers away while still concealed in his vantage spot, concealed Sheila under his coat and started to follow her.
See, there was one minor issue about this one target... they had a room-mate. And if he shot the wrong one, Grey knew he'd be on the wanted list fairly quickly. What's more, he was damn well sure that he wouldn't survive very long on it... what with the Gentleman's Stealth stalking around his abode, just waiting for him to become a licit target and with Shrike himself aiming to kill himself and his allies, he just couldn't take that risk. So, he followed them for about a hundred meters, closing the distance carefully while trying to get a feel for the profile of the one he was shadowing from behind.
Fortunately, he had thought far enough ahead to look up his target's face. An old contact in the inventor's guild had been more than happy to pull in a few favours and get him the information he needed.
He had no idea what her room-mate looked like, but his target was a red head... sadly, this person was wearing a sort of hood over themselves. Ok, so his target... he didn't think this looked like the right person... his target had pretty long hair that would never fit under that thing... unless they'd changed.
Ok, so that wasn't enough... glasses... his target didn't wear glasses.
Huh, it could have been a ruse... they were an actor after all. But if he waited for them to get back, he could try again... no point in being hasty when he had a second chance to see them from the front this time.
Grey returned to his position, seated himself on the stone steps and got back to his work... for two hours.
Again, he made a minor miscalculation. Nothing that he could have done anything about, but... well, when his actual target returned, there was one minor issue. They were obviously the right person... wrong hair colour, but they were pretty obviously waving around what looked to be a prototype electro pistol.
Prototype was the right word here... unlike Grey's creations, those things were unreliable, inaccurate and short range. Their fields were poorly self sustaining and would be neutralised by air molecules after a short distance.
Grey's miscalculation was that he had to stand up to fire... and after 2 hours of sitting on cold stone steps, he actually found it difficult to find his feet again.
Come on... do something damn it, she was going to open her door, then be away.
"Excuse me... do you mind if I ask what the gun is for?"
Yep, it was stupid, drawing attention to himself, letting her know he was there, but he couldn't get a clean shot while sitting down and his legs were refusing to cooperate... not only that, but he was fairly sure that he'd lost all sensation in his fingers.
"Oh? Oh, it's for a"
Grey finally found his footing and in one smooth movement, drew his gun from beneath his coat.
It was just a vector problem... one he'd solved a hundred times before.
But then, when he'd solved it previously, he'd been able to actually feel the gun.
Damn.
Well, it was now or never.
He fired 5 shots... and all but one missed. One was deflected off of her bag, another uselessly hit her left arm. He stopped himself before he fired a second, and instead, went to duck. He needn't have bothered. True to form, the 'prototype' failed when its wielder needed it most, barely covering half of the distance between Grey and his target before harmlessly dissipating in the air.
See, this was why his colleagues shouldn't have shunned him... he'd fixed that issue, if only they'd bothered to listen. Hell, he'd even placed the mechanism into one of his weapons, the one he had handed to Wells.
Right... one shot left before he would have to get creative.
Since when did he miss 5 times, huh? If he missed all 6, he'd never live it down.
So, he didn't.
He took a moment to line it up, steadying his arm against the bannister to stop his numbness from affecting the shot, then primed and pulled the trigger.
This time, the shot hit his target cleanly in the neck.
Once again, Grey found himself shaking... wait, why was she still standing?
"You shouldn't be..."
She looked down, as if in shock as a pool of red started to form around the new hole in her windpipe.
"Still standing."
"... oh."
As if she had needed to be reminded to die, his target took that as her moment to drop. (Remind me I need to get her some doughnuts).
As usual, Grey found his legs now shaking, although for once, he didn't actually sink to the floor. Instead, he gathered his paperwork together, concealed his weapon, collected his bullets, then walked away.
He had an appointment with the Gentleman later that day, [Whoo, inco-hunting party!] and it wouldn't do for him to be still this inaccurate when he arrived. He'd have to find a decent cup of tea to warm himself over first.
Cornelius Grey reports:
"Get Down!"
The Gentleman instantly hit the floor, as if alerted by some psychic power of the incoming attack. Grey and Kenway, both pretty quick off the mark had weapons almost in their hands to retaliate, but Grey was still searching for the source of the attack by the time that The Gentleman had flicked his wrists, seeming to draw two pistols out of nowhere.
Two loud cracks echoed through the air, and before Cornelius could even track the man's movements, he had rolled to the side, his motion a blur. Bullets seemed to follow him, but the man seemed always two steps ahead of the attackers. Barely half a second had passed and The Gentleman had fired twice and then thrown six knives into the darkness.
And then, the shooting stopped.
The three who had been accompanying The Gentleman stood in awe, minds trying to process what they had just seen.
It was not for lesser minds such as their own to comprehend... Eventually, Cornelius spoke up.
"So..."
He tried to find the words, failed, tried once again and this time managed to get something.
"So... what exactly was that about?"
"Nothing important for now. Just a handful of troublesome strangers who did not want me disclosing their plans. I will be sending further details out later today. For now, I'd suggest that you remain focussed."
The Gentleman picked himself up, dusted himself off, seeming to instantly take on his previous refined demeanour and then continued to lead the way.
Ok, seriously, what the hell had just happened?
(Read: The Umpire gloriously fell over and I'm writing in some extra details).
Wells, Grey and Kenway had met the umpire on his invitation. Of course, in all honesty, all that he had agreed to provide for them was polite conversation and occasional directions if they got lost, but they had seen no reason to say that he couldn't come with them on their raid.
Besides, him having a contact near their targets' place of living made things a hell of a lot easier... yes, Grey could have dragged up somebody from among the ranks of [College Redacted] in order to get them entry, but this saved him about half an hour of sending messages through the police force for somebody who sounded suitably corrupt... it also saved him the worry of having to be paranoid about double crossing.
The Gentleman was perfectly within his rights to hunt down incompetents himself if he so wanted... in fact, he could have simply desired the clouds to strike a person down and they would have died. So, why did he have them com-
As if he had read his mind, The Gentleman simply smiled.
"Is it wrong that I want to enjoy myself? Besides, you three have survived this far... I want to see if you can help me with a little problem. That, and I'm saving my powers for dealing with the organisation who just attacked us, but enough about that... how have you all been finding the city?"
What? What sort of question was-
"A genuine one."
Oh...
Cornelius blinked a few times. Somehow, the rest of the journey was taken up with small talk and the umpire occasionally pointing out some of the more interesting parts of town. Oh, and twice, the three assassins dashed across the road, just to leave The Gentleman standing on the pavement, politely waiting for the correct time to cross.
It wasn't too long of a walk to their destination. Cornelius was about to sit down and adjust his weapon's mechanism when the Umpire simply waved his hand in the air, and as if summoned, three women ran out of the building... two of them not wearing shoes.
Had his signature tactic been compromised already?
No, surely not...
"She's checking her Pigeon hole right now. If you hurry, we can get her."
Oh... well that made things an awful lot easier than they needed to be.
It was quickly established that one of the three was the police officer that they had agreed to meet, and that the other two had simply followed her when she had heard The Gentleman's silent summoning and been filled with a sudden urge to 'go kill somebody'.
Grey concealed his weapon at his side, then followed the three in. The Gentleman trailed a polite distance behind, simply observing.
Cornelius probably wasn't in his right mind when as he walked through the college halls. This place was at least seven times larger than any college he had previously been in, and that was just what a cursory examination from the front told him. He was trying very hard (and failing) not to get lost.
So, he walked straight past their target. In fact, it was only when he came to a closed door and turned to the others to be let past (since he lacked any clearance for this area) that he noticed that they had stopped about five feet behind him and were gathered behind a single girl who the police woman was making not so subtle gestures towards.
Oh...
Why exactly had neither of the other two started shooting?
Well, if they weren't going to...
This time, Grey did not have unfamiliar circumstances messing up his aim. He simply walked two paces to his right, circling the woman in an anticlockwise direction while he opened fire, firing 4 times.
He needn't have fired more than once.
"So..."
"Please stop starting every sentence with that [Insert a nickname that has been redacted and censored for how terrible and generally cruel it is]." Kenway shook his head sadly.
Grey sighed and turned away. Strange... he wasn't shaking... at all.
He'd always shaken previously... and now, nothing.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
"Ok, so who else are we after?"
Ah, yes... the other one... he'd done some research on them. If they didn't die today, they'd die the following Wednesday if nobody else got to them first... that wasn't likely all things considered, but it was the first good chance that Grey thought he was going to get.
The party of now seven individuals were lead by the policewoman through the labyrinth of corridors and stairs that is [College Recacted]. Eventually, they came to the dwelling of their next target.
"So... you know her, right? Could you knock?"
The policewoman had turned to one of her companions (who, it should be noted, had now managed to somewhat dry their socks and was no longer leaving footprints everywhere... I still need to find out who leaked my signature technique).
Grey motioned to his two companions. Yes, he probably needn't have bothered as they were already concealing themselves, but he didn't want to take any chances that something would slip their minds.
This time, it was Wells who made the first move. Grey didn't have a clear shot anyway. He didn't see the person who answered the door...
Which was probably just as well. He had no idea why the people around him were acting as shocked as they were until he took a few steps to the right.
"Ah..."
Grey covered his eyes and respectfully walked away.
Apparently, they had caught their target as she came out of the shower. Although Cornelius was slightly curious about whether or not she had managed to conceal a weapon under that towel, he didn't really want to check. Instead, he erased that detail from his mind and was later joined by the others.
"So..."
The other two glared at him and he coughed appologetically.
"So..."
Guns were primed.
"Err... What now?"
The umpire idly checked the list.
"Well, there is one person left... if you three would be kind enough to save me from having to do any more thunder-bolting, I'd be very appreciative."
Well, why not... he needed to get his kill count up anyway, since apparently police kills still didn't cause you to become worthy in the umpire's eyes.
Things were about to go a little wrong... he didn't know that at the time, they just were.
Not terribly wrong, just... just slightly.
Strangely, this time, he didn't dwell on the fact that he had survived... he just accepted it and moved on.
[The story continues...]
So... damn it, he was doing it even in his mind... anyway, that left himself and Wells with 2 kills each and Kenway with 1... again, the police apparently didn't count, which was a shame.
The four figures, one of whom was only there to observe and make witty comments about the situation made their way towards their next target's accommodation. This time, Grey found himself being the one who had some notion of where they were going. As the umpire talked frantically via some power beyond Grey's comprehension with a contact of his, Grey simply pulled out a map of the area and pointed to where they would find their target.
"Would this be correct?"
"... yes, yes it would."
And that was the end of that conversation... well, other than the four having a short amount of confusion over why in the world North on the map was apparently at about 80 degrees to the vertical axis of the writing.
Not even the Gentleman had an explanation for this insanity.
Thankfully, they were able to obtain the help of another friendly individual to give them access directly to their target's room.
That was when things went wrong.
Grey had agreed to let Kenway take this target for himself, meaning that Kenway was the first into the room. Upon knocking and receiving a 'yep?' in reply, their guide smiled and said 'you might want to lock your door'. Kenway didn't wait for them to take the opportunity and instead tried the handle.
"Right, that's him."
Kenway shot at the first man in the room, the man their guide had pointed out.
"Nope... wrong person."
"Him?"
Kenway pointed at the room's second occupant. The Gentleman nodded the affirmative [Oops. I actually knew the inco in question as well...] and Kenway shot. Of course, at this point, Cornelius, in what was either the bravest or stupidest moment of his life, put his gun to the Umpire's back.
As of that moment, Kenway was wanted... the Umpire could kill him if he so desired.
"I'm not going to kill him yet."
Still, he didn't want to move his weapon.
"By the way," their guide spoke up, "that wasn't him either."
Well, snap.
It was at that moment that the real Peter Rugg showed up. Damn... if only Grey had thought ahead to do some research on the guy... but he had assumed that they'd be calling it a night after their first raid.
Well, it was too late now.
"Run Pete!"
Their guide laughed as a look of comprehension dawned on 'Pete''s face. His eyes flashed to the weapons in Kenway and Grey's hands and then he took off in the other direction.
This was Kenway's kill... he would just shoot the guy in the back and-
Wow, their target moved quickly. Kenway's first shot missed by inches. Not being particularly perceptive, Grey just assumed that he would hit. It was only after Kenway took off in pursuit that he realised that their target was getting away.
Well, double snap.
Grey took off in pursuit himself, knowing that if Kenway failed to catch 'Pete', somebody would have to secure the kill.
He was an inventor... not an athlete. Pete practically vaulted over the banister and dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch. Kenway wasn't far behind him. He fired off a shot mid air that caught their target on the arm. Grey cursed as he decided against following the more acrobatic assassins and instead simply lined up a shot, probably the last one he was going to get before they both disappeared.
(I'm embellishing a little on the chase sequence here)
He swore he was aiming for the other arm.
He missed...
Well, that was that then... it looked as if Kenway wasn't going to get that kill after all. Just for good measure, Grey 'missed' a few times again, just making sure that in case this 'Pete' had an artificial heart or something else that would cause him to survive a fatal injury, then he would have a harder time surviving the second and third shots.
Well... that had just happened.
Marcus Kenway reports:
The first one was an easy kill. Tracy Amit didn't even see them coming before bullets rained down on her.
Although Grey took the kill, Wells and I all had our weapons ready to provide backup.
It took a while to find the second target, but Wells shot her without hesitation.
She didn't even wonder why people were knocking on her door despite the fact that her being only dressed in bath towels might be reason to assume that she wasn't expecting anybody. [To be honest, I don't think most people expect assassins to knock on their door just after they've had a shower...]
Then things got complicated. After the long walk to [REDACTED COLLEGE], the party found the target's bedroom and knocked.
It was my turn to take the shot, but it didn't go as smoothly as the last two encounters.
Two people were inside and since one of them said the other guy was [target's name], they ended up both dead (apparently neither of them were).
After a while, the target finally showed up while I was still reloading my gun, so I only managed to hit him in the arm while he was running away, but Grey took care of him.
Ending up with the blood of innocents (well, more like non-assassins since they did lie about the name) on his hands, I left the building in shame, wondering what to do next.
[Marcus Kenway went Wanted with short redemption conditions, on account of the reasonable circumstances of the innocent-kills. He then redeemed himself later, while in my presence, so will only spend an extremely short amount of time on the list]
Clementine Tock reports:
I had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock at my door.. Foolishly, I opened it and was killed with a shot to the chest in just a towel. Most embarrassing. Not sure who the killer was; there were quite a few people that witnessed my almost-nakedness. [Sorry about that...]
I would have done a dramatic fall/death if I were clothed, but sadly it wasn't meant to be.
:)
The Gentleman reports:
Having chatted in the pub with Cornelius Grey, Marcus Kenway and Countess Wells last night, I'd said I'd accomplice them for an inco-hunt some time. At the appointed hour, we met and wandered up the darkened streets towards [REDACTED COLLEGE WITH A HIGH NUMBER OF INCOS]. I'd arranged for Gentleman's Surprise to get us access to the college, so was expecting her to turn up and guide us.
I rather less expected her plus two excited and bare-footed friends to come running out of the plodge and tell us that Tracy Amit had in fact been passed, checking her pidge just as they emerged. The now enlarged crowd of assassins and enthusiastic civilians bounced towards the door. I trailed after, rather less bouncily.
Once inside, the sextet rushed at a fair speed down the wide corridor, where a single figure stood, checking her phone, oblivious to the fact that she was being surrounded by a crowd of assassins. Gentleman's Surprise pointed at her vigorously behind her back, looking at me. The other assassins as looked at me, and I nodded. A variety of guns appeared in their hands, many shots were fired, and we all dissolved into laughter (possibly except Tracy Amit and a somewhat confused porter that wandered by in the immediate aftermath with the bullets scattered on the floor...)
Gentleman's Surprise and her friends then took us out into the cold, harsh outside (her friends dashing towards the next door in their bare, and now slightly wet, feet, leaving a trail of footprints behind them). We went into another building, and climbed a long, darkened stairwell. At the top, her key granted us access to another corridor. The crowd of assassins piled into the corridor, and I concealed myself away from the peephole. It was totally unnecessary, though- Clementine Tock opened the door to the knocking of one of Gentleman's Surprise's friends, and was shot down by Countess Wells. Regrettably, she was in dishabille, so it was too embarrassing to chat, but we did promise food at a later date.
At this point, we opted to move on to [CLOSE, REDACTED COLLEGE] to try and get the last remaining inco. We said goodbye to Gentleman's Surprise's friends, and then Gentleman's Surprise guided us out of the back entrance, pointed us where we needed to go, and understandably retreated inside because it was cold. At this point I called a contact to enquire about the locale, but it was unnecessary, since Cornelius Grey found a map. We passed on towards the college, with the others talking in loud voices about weaponry and 'killing people', so I encouraged unrelated talk until we were a bit more private.
On entering the college, we wandered around in a confused fashion until we found the staircase we were looking for- just as someone was approaching it. My associates proceeded to chase after him and grab the door, to his slightly confused look. After checking the room listing, we then followed up the stairs, getting the wrong side of the corridor just as the person we'd followed in was opening his room. Deeming our cover substantially blown, and not wanting him to think that we were actual intruders, I optimistically hoped that he wouldn't message and tell Gachnar there were four assassins in his corridor, and asked him were Gachnar was. I'm still not sure if that was a mistake or not.
In any case, he asked our intentions ('nefarious') and took us to his room. Knocking, he declared that Gachnar should 'probably lock his door', which was taken as the cue to enter. After some word along the lines of 'that's him', Marcus Kenway shot an innocent. On being told that that wasn't the target, he shot the second person in the room, who also turned out not to be the target either. Oops. About a minute after, Gachnar actually turned up, and was chased down and killed by Cornelius Grey (although all I heard from my position was running and loud voices). We apologised to the innocents, who were fine with it: one of them informed me that I would be going Wanted for assisting in the death of some innocents. I maintained a straight face.
(Once again, many thanks to Gentleman's Surprise for assisting on the first two kills! Enjoy your promotion!)
Countess Wells reports:
Armed to the teeth, Countess Wells, Marcus Kenway and Cornelius Grey made their way towards [REDACTED COLLEGE]. Tonight was a momentous occasion â?? they had been invited to go hunting with The Gentleman himself. There were several members of the guild who had failed to make the required number of kills, and for this lack of dedication, it was decided that they had to be eliminated. Approaching in two separate groups to avoid suspicion, the assassins met the Gentleman outside [REDACTED COLLEGE], and the hunting party set off into the far reaches of the city. As they went, the Gentleman passed the time by imparting various bits of information about the city, as well as tricks of the trade.
As it turned out, he had several agents inside the first college on the list, who were able to safely escort the party inside without drawing the guards' suspicion, despite the high security clearance level. They were led down the foyer, where the inside agents had gathered around a girl. She did not appear to have noticed anyone, despite the elaborate pointing gestures of the agents which presumably meant that she was one of their targets. This was just as well, since the assassins had almost walked straight past her. It was Grey who was quickest off the draw, taking her down with a hail of bullets from his revolver, before she had any idea of the approaching assassins. After taking care to dispose of the body, the group moved on, led through a complex maze of stairways, colonnades and corridors. As they approached the door of their next target, Wells was ahead of the other assassins â?? but Kenway, ever anxious to increase his kill count, was hurrying just behind, desperately trying to push ahead in the hope of making this assassination first. They took up positions outside the target's door, carefully adjusting their weaponry so that they could draw as quickly as possible without actually showing their victim that they were armed.
One of their accomplices knocked at the door, and the target answered. There was some consternation among the party- it seemed she had been bathing, and clearly was not expecting visitors of any sort. They all hesitated, unsure of what to do- and Wells saw her chance. None of the others seemed to know how to proceed, alarmed by the unexpected circumstances. Seizing the moment, Wells shot the girl with her pistol. Perhaps it was an unsporting kill, but assassination was an unsporting business.
Taking their leave of their guides, the party moved on out of the college, heading for their next round of targets. There was some initial difficulty in navigating this labyrinthine establishment, but between Grey's peculiarly-oriented map and the Gentleman's communications with a fellow assassin who had recently hunted there, they managed to find their way to the room in question. It was agreed, as they made their way in, that Kenway should make this attempt. They were let to the stairs and directed to the target's room by a trusting and helpful bystander- and then things began to go wrong.
Their guide, apparently less trusting by the minute as they comprehensively failed to find their target's room, demanded to know what business they had there. In a panic, the group turned to their Umpire, having neglected to prepare an alibi.
"Nefarious", he declared, no doubt banking on the fact that in this city, riddled as it was with assassins and lowlife, few people would particularly care if a neighbour of theirs were to be suddenly struck down. Indeed, this answer at first appeared to satisfy their guide, as he led them to the room they had somehow missed upon first inspection.
However, rather than providing some greeting or pleasantry as he knocked, their guide called out, "You probably want to lock your door."
Curse it all.
Clearly unwilling to let another kill be taken from him, Kenway leaped through the unlocked door, opening fire on the man he believed to be his target. Their guide paled with shock.
"That... That wasn't him."
"Wait-" There was another man in the room. Amidst the raised voices and cries of "That's him! No, that is!", Kenway shot him down as well.
It was at this moment that another man arrived- who was quickly identified as their real target. The magnitude of the situation began to sink in- Kenway had just killed not one, but two innocent bystanders, in plain view of the Umpire himself. And their target was getting away.
Weapons drawn, they gave chase. Shots went wild as their target leapt down the stairs, running for his life from the hunting party. Kenway was shooting to kill as his compatriots aimed to incapacitate- until Grey somehow failed to miss the man's heart. So, he was dead- but with no further incompetent assassins to hunt, and several innocents killed in front of the Gentleman himself, it seemed that very soon Kenway could be joining him.
Cornelius Grey reports:
Alright, first objective
'So...'
Objective complete.
Second objective was to get Kenway off the wanted list ASAP.
Fortunately, he had a target near by. They could still make it. Grey still made sure that he walked between The Gentleman and Kenway, just to be sure that the Umpire didn't try anything... yes, Cornelius doubted that he could actually stop the superhuman man if he tried to kill Kenway, but he could maybe provide a 2 second distraction in which Kenway could make a run for it. The Gentleman didn't want to use power thunder-bolting right now... so they were probably...
Well, there was no guarantee that Kenway was safe so long as the Umpire or any police member was around.
Well, triple snap.
Fortunately, searching the dead body of their previous target revealed the exact location of their next one (read: he was going the same way anyway, and pointed out the relevant staircase en route).
Alright... so this guy wasn't a licit target for Grey or Countess Wells.
'So...'
Two people glared at him and he coughed appologetically.
'I don't suppose you would be interested in borrowing Sheila for a short time?'
Weapons were exchanged and Grey found himself now armed with the smaller, but more powerful 'Rokelle'... sadly, she was only a single shot weapon, so that meant that his standard style of 'shoot at it until there are no more bullets in the clip and until there were no targets left standing' probably wasn't ideal.
Well, with any luck, he wouldn't be doing any shooting at all.
The Gentleman left them and stood a respectful distance away. After all, this target was not Inco... he was here only to observe, not to help in any way.
Well, looked like they were on their own again. No contact, no helpful guide, just Grey and his two companions against a locked door with nothing but their wits to get it open.
He had this covered.
Grey kicked off his shoes and stepped confidently forward.
Wells took the initiative to actually remove his shoes from sight, then the assassin clasped his hands in front of him (to assure his target that he was not armed if he happened to glance through his peep-hole).
Then he knocked.
'Yup? Give me a sec... what is it?'
'Sorry, I've gone and locked myself out of my room and I don't have any shoes... could I borrow a pair just to go to the porter's lodge?'
(Read: 'Excuse me, have you got my shoes?')
'Right, shoes, sure'
Well that didn't sound ominous at all...
Still, he was going to open the door, probably armed, and Grey was going to act as innocent as he possibly could while Kenway shot the man... he had been practising his casual whistle for years, just for this moment. There was a sound of rummaging around in their target's room and Grey simply stood there and smiled apologetically as Wells and Kenway concealed themselves from sight. (Why do I get the feeling that after this report, I'll never be able to use this tactic again?)
What he was not expecting was for their opponent to open his door, not with a gun in his hands, but instead with a pair of shoes ready.
Kenway took the shot.
Grey just stood there, dumbfounded as behind them, the umpire managed to look suitably confused at what had just transpired and Wells just stood there, holding Grey's own shoes... at least this time, she had the decency not to walk off with them.
Huh, that was meant to get the door open... not totally disarm their target in the process.
Wait, why was this the thing he was dwelling on and not the fact that they'd just killed a man? Yes, they'd killed a man who was himself a murderer and a murderer who had signed up for this specifically so that he could kill other people and be hunted. He knew exactly what he was getting himself in for.
Still, why didn't Grey at least feel nervous? Why did he feel like laughing at what had just happened?
Right... time to inject some sanity into this situation.
Grey held his hand out towards Kenway.
'Return Sheila, if you please'
The four then left the area... once again, The Gentleman was able to get the three to make small talk on the way out, which was impressive given who he was talking to.
'So, wait... you married your college wife?' Kenway and Wells exchanged looks while Grey managed to conceal a smirk.
'What sort of insanity is this?' The Gentleman, being a gentleman, took a short time to comprehend this, but whatever the case, Grey finally found himself laughing.
Maybe just surviving was the wrong goal to go for here.
Sooner or later, he'd have to kill Wells and Kenway if he was to truly survive this... but that could wait for a long time. For now, maybe it was time to start living again.
Psychofreshery Personified reports:
oh come on did you really think Little Miss Maniac over here wouldn't take the option that affords her the most kills?! [I THOUGHT YOU WOULD TAKE THE OPTION KNOW AS COMMON DECENCY]
Kibbles was informed by the Captain of the Day Watch about my probable corruption, so was clearly suspicious when I turned up at his door; but he couldn't see a weapon and so tentatively opened the door. The second he did, I quickly put on the bear hat I was holding out of the peephole's reach [he could bearly see it] and pounced. And accidentally knocked him into his laundry basket. Oops. [Bears are notoriously clumsy]
herself by occidunt reports:
I decided to scout out [REDACTED COLLEGE] to see if I could find Mad-emoiselle; strangely, a sequence of random choices of direction led me to exactly the right place. I scouted the corridor layout to ascertain that I would have a few different escape routes, then wandered down to her door and knocked.
I heard some shuffling from behind the door, followed by a series of loud metallic scratching and clanking sounds as an excessive number of locks were disengaged from the door. "This is good", I thought. Unfortunately, before the final latch was lifted, a voice from within said,
"Who is it?"
I responded, "[REDACTED INTEREST-PIQUING QUESTION]".
A negative response was given, but the (suspiciously?) conversational tone suggested that there was still hope in this attempt. As the brief chat moved into less-planned realms, a periodic loud clacking sound coming from behind the door suggested that there was not still hope in this attempt. When it became clear that I was being stalled for time/ I suspected loading was more than halfway complete, I fled the confines of the long corridor and swiftly removed my under-armed self from the premises.
Mad-emoiselle reports:
*knock* Was that a sound? Is my door locked?
I glanced over.
Oh shit! I sprung out of bed and quickly turned the deadbolt. Phew.
The assassin outside heard my shuffling and called out into the quiet corridor.
"Hi, are you Georgia? I think you left your something on the boat when you coxed this morning!"
Hmm, well I don't cox, I hadn't left my room that morning and I didn't recognise this voice...
"Um no."
I clutched my trusted weapon and inched closer to the peep hole.
"Oh it must have been someone else, sorry!"
Before I could see this intruder to my peaceful morning he disappeared, and still in my pyjamas I chose not to pursue. Next time I'll be more prepared!
Psychofreshery Personified reports:
I scrolled upwards on the page, rechecking the police list in disbelief. Five first-year police members...all in the same building in [REDACTED]'s...and none dead yet?! A particular oversight from the corrupt police division - I dramatically readied my jolt.
(Then dropped the bullet out of my jolt and scrambled to pick it up and reload the gun again. I am not a very glamorous assassin.)
Quickly picked up a convert in the form of Bennezio da Llama Trampled, who was playing pool in the bar near hall; she agreed to join my division and then returned to her (markedly successful) pool game, after I took some questions from her remarkably unperturbed friends about the corrupt police and my live-player life. I am, apparently, 'committed'. [I'll say...]
Gentleman's Heroism I caught in hall, and got her to confirm her name under a friendly ruse ('Hey, where do I know you from? I'm sure I've seen you in a soc thing...') after which I stabbed her with the same pen. She also seemed pretty eager to join the corrupt forces, and pointed out a third policewoman eating in hall, Pork, whom I circled round and stabbed in the back. She said she'd think about it. I knocked on the doors of the other two, but neither appeared to be in, and Gentleman's Heroism's messages to them prompted no response.
[I swear we've missed a critical step in training these police somewhere along the line. Next term, definitely recommending instituting anti-corruption training...]
[REDACTED]'s hall then had a table with three police dead by my hand, one once-live player (GreyBlur) dead by my hand, and a table over, Ebenezer Hassard, who would've been dead by my hand if I wasn't a shmuck who tried to confirm his name first. Then again, I died because I didn't confirm someone's name first. Balance in the universe is so difficult to attain...
Anyway, they were all looking a bit murderous towards me, so I left to enjoy the sweet, sweet taste of corruption (also stir-fry).
[Getting information straight from the dead is sketchy, even for targetting Police; as is killing long-dead players. Avoid doing this, even for the purposes of fun corruption... -TG]
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