Cloak & Dagger The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News


Sunday, 24 January


[00:00 AM] Alex H.'s Second-Worst Nightmare... (his worst nightmare is the Umpire's poetry) doesn't seem too fond of my poetry, so here is some of his own.

Are you going to Market Square?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!
Remember me to one who lives there:
She once was a killer of mine.

Tell her to make me a new ruler-knife.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!
Swift and sharp, to end someone's life;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to bring me a gun full of nerf.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!
Deadly for king, for duke and for serf;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to find me a cuddly toy.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!
With a sweetness that'll soon cloy;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

O, but the darkness is deepening soon.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!
Gleaming cold with the light of full moon:
Light to meet the true love of mine.

Has she answered all my requests -
Ruler, nerf gun, soft toy - on time?
Now I'll do just what I do best
When the strokes of midnight do chime.

Now begins the Assassins' Guild:
Silent duels, swift cunning and crime!
Now the players start being killed:
Now I'll start my murderous rhyme.


[00:10 AM] Ra's al Ghul begins with some deicide, killing Red god (Justin Wilkinson), and then follows it up with a kill on Hiro Protagonist (Jared Jeyaretnam).

Ra's al Ghul reports:

I first killed Justin, then later killed Jared.

Used a pen with a lid on it as my weapon.

At roughly 00:10 went to [REDACTED]. Doors into Justin's accommodation were open so I went to his room, knocked on the door, then 'stabbed' him.

At around 00:45 I went to [REDACTED]. A friend let me in and told me where to find the required accommodation. Jared was chatting in a corridor. He was then 'stabbed' by me.

Hiro Protagonist reports:

Dear Umpire,

Today I found out that I am officially one of the worst assassins in Cambridge. After a spectacular failure last game to kill a single person and dying after bringing a knife to a gunfight, I've been killed in the first hour of the game by bringing nothing to a knifefight - this happened just before 1am.

I was having a chat with some of my neighbours out in the corridor, right next to the stairwell (my first mistake, since it left me easily reachable and identifiable with a quick Facebook stalk), when two strangers clad in black clothing walked onto my floor. Over the next few seconds, my thought process went as follows:

*"Who are these guys? I don't recognise them, are they 2nd years?"

* "They seem to be looking for someone, I wonder who?"

*"Oh wait - the assassin's game started tonight"

*"Then they're here to assassinate me"

By this time it was too late, however, and they had already spotted me and closed the distance, cornering me. With no weapon to hand (my second mistake) I was defenceless and succumbed to their pen-knives.

I shall have to train harder until I can master the ways of the assassin.

Yours Truly,

Hiro Protagonist


[13:43 PM] Bloodraven gets terse, writes verse.

Bloodraven reports:

O Muse! O flighty, faithless art!
Thy cold and vicious shard
Of treachery has pierced my heart:
Is there another Bard!?

In metre, rhythm, rhyming play,
You did bestow my skill:
O goddess false, you cannot say
You'll serve another's will?

Like Shakespeare - nay, like Homer true
Was once my verse of old.
But, Muse, without my trust in you,
My voiceless tongue runs cold!

My voice is stolen? So be it.
In this Assassins' Game,
Despite my lack of bardic wit
I'll murder all the same...


[15:30 PM] Moustache Mormont pleases the queen, killing bastard son (Rowan Haslam)

Moustache Mormont reports:

After biking all the way to a certain far-out college for a nerve-wracking game of Lacrosse, I'd have been more of a fool than Samwell Tarly if I didn't make an attempt on my first target who lived on the same site. Even though I was muddy and a tad sweaty from running around all afternoon, my spirit was not dampened by being defeated 4-0. Gaining passage into the building was as simple as following a couple through the doorway after they used a magic and mysterious card to open the door. I was well underway to completing my first mission. Feeling nervous about my impending first attempt, floor boards creaked as I navigated my way through the labyrinth of corridors until I found the correct door. I then preceded to stop and draw my Nerf gun while simultaneously pondering: "How could I possibly convince my target to open the door?" Pretend to by delivering work? Ask if I could borrow a pen? Pretend to be a lost child? They all seemed like feeble excuses to request entry to someone's room, especially a room which belonged to a fellow assassin who would be weary of anyone knocking on their door. However, at this point, I was saved! As luck would have it, a fellow corridor-dweller walked past, saw my weapon and offered a hand in my assassination attempt. Together, we planned that the corridor-dweller would knock on the door and then proclaim that he was just popping in to say "Hi" while walking past so that after my target unsuspectingly opened the door to say hello to a friend, I would be able to pump round after round into my target to ensure their demise. The time had come. The corridor-dweller knocked on the door. It was the moment of truth. Palms became clammy. Were they even home? Was all of this for nothing? After a pause, we heard a faint voice from inside. The voice communicated just 2 simple words: "Come In". I was shocked. All of my worry had proven to be unfounded. I didn't even need the assistance of the corridor-dweller, the room was simply unlocked. I then proceeded to do what I could've done all along; I raised the gun and simply opened the door. My target was unsuspectingly lying on their bed watching a movie. I pushed on and fired 3 shoots at my victim. An anti-climax. I actually felt slightly bad, my target was probably just trying to unwind from a hard day of work, and then I came along and shot them. It was made even worse by the fact I had killed them on the day that the game had started. However, I now justify my reckless actions by clarifying to myself that someone else would've done it if I didn't. So after killing my target, and collecting the fired Nerf rounds (of which one vanished into thin air, as Nerf bullets have a tendency to do), we then parted ways and I was ready for the arduous journey back to civilisation and away from the surprisingly nice architecture of this far-out college. Mission one complete.

Valar Morghulis.

bastard son reports:

I, bastard son, was chilling in my room after a hard day's hungover procrastination. I was just mere minutes into a really great netflix binge when lo, I heard a knock at the door. Expecting it to be my friend, I was shocked when two lacrosse-dressed-assassins stormed in and shot 3 nerf bullets at me- one in the ass, one in the chest, and one which got lost somewhere, never to be found.
After my death, I discovered my (ex)friend standing next to the assassins, as he'd unknowingly directed them to my room and caused my untimely downfall. Arguably, my relaxed attitude to safety was to blame, but equally, I've never experienced an assassin coming all the way to [REDACTED] before to kill me, so credit to them.
Also, they were super sweet. And I still have their last nerf bullet. Mwahahaha.


[17:16 PM] A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn jumps on the bandwagon.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn reports:

Is this a thing we're doing now?
I heartily approve.
I mean, assassinating's fun,
But rhyming's wicked cool.

And though I cannot say for certain
Quite what here occurs,
I know that I want in on it
Before my death recurs.

Oh, and before you claim that I'm
Bandwagon-jumping here,
I'll have you know, dear comrades,
that I beat you by a year.


[20:15 PM] Oberyn Martell (Matthew Sheasby) comes for a kill, but el Che gets the counter-kill!

el Che reports:

Those who oppose the ideals of the revolution will die. Blatantly coming to our stronghold and standing against us will lead to demise, as a seemingly delightful young chap with an engineering society hoodie on found out today. Rest in peace. We will achieve our goals.

Oberyn Martell reports:

After gaining access to the [REDACTED] building where el Che lives, Oberyn Martell knocked on his door, knife in hand, ready to strike. However, el Che was not to be fooled so easily and asked for the identity of the knocker. Oberyn Martell then tried to make a generic friendly noise which he hoped could be mistaken for one of (doubtless) el Che's many friends, however this would not suffice and in any case, there was a keyhole viewpoint in el Che's door. Realising there was no game and lacking the inspiration to find a way round this, Oberyn Martell sought to make the trip worthwhile by engaging el Che in what turned out to be an enjoyable conversation. After about ten minutes of this, he left feeling refreshed. He was walking out through the college with a spring in his step when el Che sprung out of a doorway and cooly fired a single shot at a range of 5-10 metres into the top of Oberyn Martell's rib cage, before retreating into the night.


[20:30 PM] Ra's al Ghul uses knife, kills Pepps (Ben Schreiber)

Ra's al Ghul reports:

At roughly 20:30 went to [REDACTED]. Doors into Pepps's accommodation were open so I went to his room, knocked on the door, then 'stabbed' him with the pen.


[23:16 PM] Such is the life of an extra, as Man With Pitchfork #6 (uncredited) (Jack Robinson) dies offscreen to Princess Azula
Princess Azula reports:

Last night, I killed Jack Robinson with a pen "knife". He was conveniently leaving the room for the toilet, so I didn't have to knock.


[23:30 PM] Brienne of Darth arrives too late, stabbing the corpse of bastard son (Rowan Haslam)

Brienne of Darth reports:

I bent over the body. She was indeed dead, but not by my hand. I had attacked a corpse, and slunk shamefully back to my quarters. There is no honour in such a deed. I must redeem myself, or risk meeting a similar end. Alone, I turned the bullet I had found outside my door over in my hands. Was it the relic of a failed attempt on my life, or maybe of the successful attempt on my target? Could it be a deliberate warning? I double-checked my bolts before allowing myself to sleep.

Yrs,
Brienne of Darth

Monday, 25 January


[07:55 AM] Alex H.'s Second-Worst Nightmare... (his worst nightmare is the Umpire's poetry) holds a curse, throws out verse.

Alex H.'s Second-Worst Nightmare... (his worst nightmare is the Umpire's poetry) reports:

A year indeed!? Well, all that time
Has made no bard of you!
You have no skill at making rhyme:
Your poetry is...ew.


[11:00 AM] Murder most foul, as Snowball (Jamie Bernardi) dies outside their lecture theatre to Stannis Baratheon

Stannis Baratheon reports:

I recognised my target in a lecture theatre and shot them outside it.

Snowball reports:

In the bustle of the 10am mid-lecture rush, the crack of the Nerf round rung out off every wall. The body was quickly swallowed by the moving masses, the killer slinking quietly off into the crowd with only his bullet left behind.


[13:00 PM] A loose collection of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Claire Farey, Kai Hugtenburg, James Brotherston, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Ellie Holderness & Fred Alford, A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper., A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn & Kai Hugtenburg, and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer go a-hunting, to no avail.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn & Kai Hugtenburg reports:

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper., A loose collection of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Claire Farey, Kai Hugtenburg, James Brotherston, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Ellie Holderness & Fred Alford, A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer and I went on a BIG RAID this afternoon to purge [REDACTED] of our targets, together with [accomplice] who had the necessary card. None of them were in, or if they were they're smart enough not to open the door to 4 nerf gun toting assassins. Most disappointing, but fear not, they won't escape the loose coalition for long...


[13:00 PM] House Clegane is ended, as The Hound (Robert James (Robert)) falls to Reggie Bikegrease

Reggie Bikegrease reports:

The work continues, get hype


[18:30 PM] A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn responds, Umpire desponds.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn reports:

Well that's just rude! I mean to say,
It's true that for my scheme,
I chose to write BACA
And not ABAB.

But such a scheme, somewhat laid back,
Does speak not of my skill,
For the variety you lack
I favour, always will.

As for H, I commiserate
That Twm has you outdone,
But with your 'skill', and at your rate
You'll soon be number one.


[19:31 PM] A false alarm for Rod Serling, as noone turns out to be lurking in their room.

Rod Serling reports:

Consider the following. There is a land, not far away, where space is always contracted, and time always dilated. It is a realm of mystery, of joy and sorrow, of success and torture. In this space the normal laws of space and time seem to no longer apply, and you find yourself trapped in THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE! The journey of one man, a Mr Rod Serling, legendary science fiction writer, ends at this door tonight. It is a door behind which he holds his personal life, both the good things, and the terrors. But those terrors have a way of manifesting themselves as real as you or I in the Cambridge Bubble. The door is latched open, and there are people out to get him. He panics, and finds himself on the inside of a locked toilet cubicle, fretting about what horrors lie behind the scary door. After half an hour or so of intensive self-reflection, this bedraggled man emerges and shielding himself beneath a blanket of lies staggers into his room. Empty darkness.

Did all this really happen, or was it just the paranoid hallucination of a nervous man in a £1200 room? Perhaps it is impossible to say whether he unlocked the door, or whether some dark force channelling his fears did, but whatever it was has now returned to THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE.


[20:30 PM] The Mathia takes a sinh to coshing, as (Andrew Raison) is coshed by several people, then killed by A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Ellie Holderness, James Brotherson, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson & Kai Hugtenburg, making A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. wanted!

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness reports:

After a reasonably large insult from Andrew Raison, the mathia had decided it was time for him to sleep with the fishes.
So we hatched a plan. We'd take care of him at the pub. So myself, A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn and [some other assassin] (who knew nothing of our immediate intentions), along with a few non-assassins left for the pub and what followed for the next few hours, after he arrived, included mostly routine coshing of Andrew Raison by me to leave him unconscious till others arrived. Andrew Raison soon grew tired of this however and decided to stab me in both arms and a leg. At which point A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn resumed my duty of coshing Andrew Raison. Eventually we had reinforcements in the form of A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper., followed soon by A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer. The person who could introduce him to his maker still had yet to arrive.
After my limbs had respawned I coshed Andrew Raison one final time followed by a cosh from A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. a minute later. At this point A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Ellie Holderness, James Brotherson, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson & Kai Hugtenburg decided to show up, three minutes after I'd coshed him (two after A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. had), and bump him off. We then had one final appearance from A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn & Kai Hugtenburg whose use extended no further than sitting in the background looking pretty.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn reports:

Public Service Announcement: The Do's and Dont's of Coshing

DO: Be careful of who you are coshing. Coshing other players is fine, but coshing non-players is a surefire way to find yourself on the wanted list.

DON'T: Cosh the same person every half-hour or so, as A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness did to Andrew Raison this evening, about once every half hour from 8:30 onwards.

DO: Hold your cosh with care, and wield it with precision. A thrown cosh is not a legal weapon, and then you've effectively disarmed yourself.

DON'T: Confuse coshes (blunt) with knives (sharp), as Andrew Raison did to A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness this evening at about 9:15, stabbing three of his limbs in an illegal maneuver that would probably make him wanted if... well, keep reading.

DO: Be aware of your surroundings. A coshed assassin is defenseless for the next five minutes. Sounds like a boon, right? But if they weren't a licit target for you, and they die - for any reason! - under the effects of your cosh, then you will go wanted.

DON'T: Cosh somebody when you know their assassin is on their way, as A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness did to Andrew Raison this evening at 22:22.

DO: Be careful around coshes. Coshes are weapons and not toys.

DON'T: Feel the need to use a weapon just because it's there, as A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. did with A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer's inflatable hammer at 22:23. Not able to resist the pull of the big shiny hammer, they grabbed it up and coshed Andrew Raison with it. At this point A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Ellie Holderness, James Brotherson, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson & Kai Hugtenburg (who had Andrew Raison as a target, and was thus there to kill him) had arrived. I went out to meet them and warned them that Andrew Raison was currently under the effect of another player's cosh; they then stabbed him anyway.

DO: Stay off of the Wanted list by obeying the rules of the game.

DON'T: Follow in the steps of the [THERE ARE NO MATHIAS IN CAMBRIDGE], because clearly we are a bunch of [CENSORED].

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Ellie Holderness, James Brotherson, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson & Kai Hugtenburg reports:

After receiving Andrew Raison (AKA Public Enemy no 1 for crimes against the loose coalition) as a target I knew he had to be my first kill. We had a plan that members would lure him to the pickerel and then I would kill him. I turned up late and stabbed him with my knife when I arrived. Sadly it turned out that two other members of the loose coalition had coshed him for fun and now I had accidentally made them wanted... oops

reports:

I learnt a valuable lesson recently, if you've made an enemy of a mafia and are sitting in a pub and many of the members of said mafia start coming in; be suspicious. I wasn't and now I'm deaded.

I also wish to leave these messages to everyone: [there are Mathias in Cambridge] and [there are Math 1As in Cambridge]


[21:52 PM] Another member of the Mathia down, as Shrimad Rajachandra brings an end to A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Gwilym Kuiper, Claire Farey, James Brotherston, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Georgina Turner, Fred Alford, Richard Birkett, Joe Tomkinson & Kai Hugtenburg (Ellie Holderness)

Shrimad Rajachandra reports:
Poor Ellie was asleep when a friendly feminine voice woke her up and kindly asked her to open the door. When she did, the killer was using his accomplice as a human shield and shot her dead in her pyjamas. All she had the time to say was: "Well, I was asleep!" before she died, slightly annoyed.

Tuesday, 26 January


[00:47 AM] A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenburg, Tom Flynn, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Fred Alford & James Botherson. risks umpirical wrath, makes a statement.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenburg, Tom Flynn, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Fred Alford & James Botherson. reports:

Hello, I'm here. I just thought I'd get my pseudonym out a bit.

That's all.

[Grrr.... - TS]


[08:15 AM] A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn & Kai Hugtenburg shoots innocents, goes wanted.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Gwilym Kuiper, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Georgie Turner, Joe Tomkinson, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Tom Flynn & Kai Hugtenburg reports:

HOW NOT TO PLAY ASSASSINS, by the Mathia (Part ii)

Convinced I could play assassins better tanh (sorry) my incompetent coshing collegues, I set about eliminating one of my targets today. He had a lecture on a day when I was free, so the plan was to wait between his accommodation and the exit. If it's an 11am, I'll even still get a lie in. Fine then, 10am. Oh no, really, does it have to be 9am?

Fine, 8.45 it is. At least he'll be both sleepy and maybe in a hurry, and therefore not on his guard. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, it turns out. Entering [REDACTED COLLEGE 1], I was first stumped when there was no door where I was expecting one. No matter, I remember there was a door that had no card access here (I recall from when I was here for a concert)... Ah, yes, although there's no bridge here, it looks like the backs of [REDACTED COLLEGE 2] when I was a a garden party there last year. Heading back, I see a mathematician I recognise. Funnily enough, I was pretty sure he went to [REDACTED COLLEGE 2].

We'll solve that riddle later, for now I'm in danger of being late and missing him. So lets try through, say, this door... Nope, how about this one... hang on, that looks suspiciously like the backstage area for a concert I did.

Which is very strange, as I've never done a concert in [REDACTED COLLEGE 1], but had done in [REDACTED COLLEGE 2].

Realisation. I'm in the wrong college. [CENSORED]

Now in [REDACTED COLLEGE 1], this time I find my way easily to the accommodation, and still with enough time that he might appear. I hang around outside the staircase, with that universal 'Do not disturb' signal (my phone) and wait.

I hear the doors slam, and my target emerges. I shoot. Wrong guy. [DOUBLE CENSORED]

"He'll probably be late"

Well, hopefully a kill will count towards redemption, at least.

5 minutes later, the door slams again, and now my target emerges. I shoot. Wrong guy again. [TRIPLE CENSORED].

What the actual hell? There are only a dozen people in this staircase, and the subset of people who look like my target is quite small, and the subset of people with an 8.45 lecture is quite small, and their intersection is even smaller. And my target didn't even get out of bed for the [CENSORED] lecture.

So now I'm wanted. Hi Kim...


[10:07 AM] correct horse battery staple (Mark Cooper) doesn't know the password, is stabbed by Qarlton Chelsted

Qarlton Chelsted reports:

I, Qarlton Chelsted, killed Mark Cooper. I stabbed him with a knife at 10:07 in front of the building where [some room] is. He acknowledged his death.


[11:55 AM] A bad day for innocents, as Qarlton Chelsted takes another one down.

Qarlton Chelsted reports:

Based on a terrible profile picture I approached a person thinking they are my target. I asked him if he is "the name of my target", he replied no, but a gentle smile in his face didn't let me trust him. So I stabbed him with a knife. At this point he looked confused and I asked him on details, finding out he truly wasn't the person I was looking for.


[12:00 PM] Undertaker (Noemi Ammaturo) kills Revan (Peter Rugg), only to be killed immediately by HashtagRekt, with Rightskian lurking suspiciously in the background...

HashtagRekt reports:

Dear Assasins' [sic] Guild,

I brutally murdered my target, Noemi Ammaturo, with a pen while she was having a friendly conversation with the person she just killed.

Kind regards,
HashtagRekt.


[16:16 PM] A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness go hunting, find nothing.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn reports:

Public Service Announcement: Do's and Dont's of Sign-Ups

DO: Make sure to give a pseudonym on sign-up. Otherwise the umpire will choose one for you, and trust me, no-one wants that.

DON'T: Put the wrong room number in your address, as [Person A] seems to have done. Me and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness went to visit him in [COLLEGE REDACTED], only to find that despite claiming to live in room X of his staircase, his name was listed next to room Y. We ultimately decided not to risk it and hope for clarification.

DO: Ensure that if you live far from the centre of Cambridge (or if your home should be out of bounds), you give sufficient information in your notes that your assassins may find you. It's not very fair otherwise, and the Guild does love fair play.

DON'T: Omit part of your address, as [Person B] appears to have done. His listed address was 'room Z, Some Court, [COLLEGE REDACTED]', but said court has several staircases on it, each of which have a room Z. Fortunately, Some Court is properly labelled, so we found him, but in many cases such signage is not in place.

DO: Include pertinent information in your notes about innocents with whom you might share a room. [Person B], for example, mentioned in his notes that he shares a set with a non-player. I met her; she seemed nice.

DON'T: Be at a supervision when an assassin comes looking for you. It's just not good etiquette.

[Please make sure that you gave the correct address. Person A mistakenly gave their address from last year, but if more people are found to have done this they may be made wanted. TS]


[17:55 PM] Death in black-and-white, as Deadly Panda (Xiaofan Zhang) is eviscerated by Bloodraven

Bloodraven reports:

Cycling past [REDACTED] after [UNSPECIFIED COMMITMENT] I couldn't resist attempting on my target, Deadly Panda. I normally avoid raiding peoples accommodation for safety reasons but it had been too long and my thirst for blood needed satisfying. I proceeded to the relevant staircase and searched the room and gyp to no avail. Resigning myself to another kill-free day, I departed swiftly but as I was doing so, I saw a group of freshers on the stairs of which he was in the centre. A swift strike and he was bleeding out in front of his friends who were clearly so horrified that they started laughing - perhaps as a coping mechanism for the trauma inflicted?

I left to a round of applause (seriously starting to wonder about the mindset of this group of people) and with a profound sense of satisfaction. No-one is out of reach of the greenseers.

Until next time,

Bloodraven


[18:05 PM] Betrayed by his own (college) mother, as Polyspaston (William Grace (Will)) is killified by A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Gwilym Kuiper, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenberg, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Joe Tomkinson & Georgie Turner!

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Gwilym Kuiper, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenberg, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Joe Tomkinson & Georgie Turner reports:

After the, ah, incident earlier today, I decided the best course of action was to remove myself from the wanted list as soon as possible. Desperate times call for risks, and I contacted a mutual friend with one of my targets, Polyspaston. Turns out she was his college mother and couldn't betray him fast enough. (Quote: "Ah oh my god yes!!!!").

So I lurked outside [SLANG FOR MEAL AT REDACTED COLLEGE] and sure enough he appeared. Not wanting another case of mistaken identity, I was about to shout his name and watch for a reaction. Then I noticed a school leavers' hoody on his back... come on, that's too good to be true, surely... yep, that's his name on the back. Jolt away!!!

I commend him on his graciousness in death, and am sad I couldn't hang around to chat, but him having assassin friends and my being wanted I made my excuses and left.

Polyspaston reports:
Good evening Umpire,

I would like to report that I, Polyspaston, was tragically struck down at 1800 in [some court] at [my college]. I should have realised that today was going to be â??One of Those Daysâ?? when the first thing I did this morning was lock myself out of my room, thus compelling me to endure the walk of shame to the Portersâ?? Lodge in my dressing-gown and slippers. Undeterred, I carried on with my morning, successfully managing to forget to bring paper to my Analysis lecture, and almost missing a submission deadline for an example sheet I had completed yesterday evening.
Anyway, the tone suitably set for the standard of day I was having, consider now the paranoia of one filled with the constant fear of a sinister water-pistol-touting figure appearing in the doorway. By two oâ??clock in the afternoon I was jumping at the slightest hint of a sound on the staircase, peering through the gap under my door to determine who was coming onto the landing, and was terrified lest I leave my desk without the reassuring weight of a pen labelled â??KNIFEâ?? in my pocket.
When it reached three, I resolved that something had to be done, having failed in an attempt to catch a target from Trinity at the Union yesterday evening, I turned my gaze to the red-brick labyrinth of Robinson college, the dwelling of my next quarryâ?¦

I put on my coat and scarf, grabbed my bag, and stashed my pockets full of weaponry: including, but not limited to, a distinctly banana-shaped gun and the vaguely-pointy 'Protractor of Uncountably Infinite Doom'. However, upon arriving at the abode of my target, and having climbed several flights of steep, dark, narrow stairs to reach the top, I decided that I felt much safer as far away from there as possible, and promptly ran away back to College with great haste.
Having decided that that was quite enough excitement for one day, I walked over to Trough for a relaxing meal, but unfortunately for me, my troubles were not yet quite overâ?¦ One-eleventh of A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Curtis Reubens, Freddie Brewer, Gwilym Kuiper, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenberg, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn, Joe Tomkinson & Georgie Turner ran up behind me and darted me in the back. After exchanging pleasantries with my killer, and wishing him well on his way, I continued about my business filled with the most enormous relief: I enjoyed my post-death meal, realised I could leave my door open again and generally felt very pleased to have been assassinated.

For those of you who didnâ??t manage to get through all of that, I can summarise my experience with the Assassinsâ?? Guild in a couple of bullet points:

Before my death I had constant panic, worry and fear of toy weaponry.

At the time of my death I experienced a great release from the grip of paranoia.

After my death? Well, I had a nice cup of teaâ?¦


[21:25 PM] Rod Serling's paranoia knows no bounds, stabs fresher, goes wanted!

Rod Serling reports:
There is a land, not far away, where space is always contracted, and time always dilated. It is a realm of mystery, of joy and sorrow, of success and torture. In this space the normal laws of space and time seem to no longer apply, and you find yourself trapped in THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE!
We return again to our ever-fretful friend, Mr Serling. Having overcome his fears, he is a new man, ready to defend himself. But with this new-found confidence will also come new-found perils, as we shall shortly see. Tonight is laundry night, that hallowed tradition of sending out the dirty, bringing in the clean. But once evicted from behind his door, Mr Serling's demons now roam the corridors, and it was one such demon that was stalking him tonight. As he descended the twisted staircase, the sound of danger approached with its trademark rhythm. Failing to be intimidated, Mr Serling nobly hid in an alcove, and jumped out and slew the beast. "WHAT THE *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*?!" Screamed the young man, as blood sprayed from a dagger shaped wound in his appendix. It was another lie of this insidious realm, the demon was in fact the architecture, that could turn an innocent man's footsteps into those of a killer. All Mr Serling could do was offer his sincerest apologies to the dying man. "Oh that's quite alright, phew, I've just realised how easy it is to get murdered in real life!" Exclaimed the victim, as he promptly succumbed to cardiac arrest from the shock and died.
Word to the wise about paranoia: it will disguise itself as a blessing, a heightened sense of awareness of your surroundings, when in actual fact it is one of the demons almost unique to THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE.


[22:15 PM] Dark forces are moving, as Jon Snow (Twm Stone) is struck down by Ghost

Jon Snow reports:

What demon hath possessed my loyal direwolf, such that he dove for my throat when he saw me pick up a killer sheep and thought I meant to use it on him? Is this to be how I end, or will the power of the Many-Faced-God sustain me through this. Only Season 6 will tell...

[And yes, Ghost did indeed kill me for bearing a weapon they had just asked me to pick up, but in my defense I thought they had removed all of the weapons they had hidden on them. -TS]

Ghost reports:

Oooooooooooooooowhoo!!

Wednesday, 27 January


[00:30 AM] Eddard Stark provides some background... [cue Game of Thrones title music]

[For those with a knowledge of canon, the setup of this game requires fairly significant alterations. Like everyone still being alive. In this one, then, Ned chose to stay with his family and never went south. Robert was murdered anyway by the Lannisters, triggered the civil war, but not as you know it, and basically everything's changed. For more, read on...]

The assassins left the shadowed room where the Prince That Was Promised sat, brooding-browed and dark on his throne. Not of iron was this throne made, but of weirwood, white as the bleached bones that line the streets of Valyria. Not of iron yet. That would come later, once he threw back the darkness to whence it had come and saved the Seven Kingdoms. For now, weirwood would suffice the Prince. The bastard of the North to who, eventually, every knee in Westeros would bow to. As had, for some months now, that of his father.

Eddard Stark looked up from his position of homage at the foot of the dais, into the face of the one he had known from a babe, had kept despite all that it hurt Catelyn, his badge of shame from a moment of weakness in a war many years ago. He had little dared hope for much for this one- for Robb, yes, his eldest would be Lord of Winterfell after him, standing tall against the snow and upholding the King's peace in this wild and beautiful land. Bran would rule a keep for Robb, or perhaps be a maester- his talents at warcraft were not vast, but his intelligence, whether he willed it or not, showed through. Maester Luwin reported his aptitude to be great for the arts of history and astronomy.

Jon, on the other hand, could not hope to rise as high has Robb, nor was apt for the healing arts as was Bran. He could command a castle, or head an army, but his name was still Snow, and so his would be an uphill battle against a world, having to guard against sniggers behind the hands of his men. He could take the black, as had Ned's brother Benjen, and go where most had no cause to belittle him, but that would mean cutting himself off from the world, entering a noble calling, but one with little comfort and fewer rewards. And there his options ended, or rather would have done, were it not for the upheavals of the time.

None could have foreseen that Robert would succumb to the same fever that had taken Jon Arryn only a year previously. When Ned had last seen him, although his armour no longer fit his layers of fat and his breath reeked of drink, he still seemed hale and healthy. And yet he had died within a turning of the moon, leaving his son Joffery to rule. Questions had arisen of legitimacy, spread from a source no-one knew. Some said the Spider was weaving a web and entrapping all the kingdom in it, others that Littlefinger had been slighted by Joffrey and sought his vengeance, and still others that it had been Robert's last words that had been the spark that set the realm aflame. However it had come, war had been swift and brutal, and all had been swept into it, from the haughtiest septon down to the lowliest bondsman, and everything inbetween. Rob would have liked it, thought Ned bitterly. It was a simpler time now. Rob had always liked war, never thrived in the humdrum routine of politics.

Now, three years on, the Seven Kingdoms looked very different to how they had done on the day when Rob had left with fanfare and ceremony, leaving Ned to govern Winterfell as he had done, and asking nothing other than his sword in times of war, which Ned had gladly offered. "I came for you as Hand", he'd said, red-faced and flushed after a night of drinking. "I came for you as Hand, but if you won't offer me your hand, I'll just have to leave your hand to Catelyn's use!" He'd belched, staggered a little, and sat on his bed. "I don't think the less of you, though, Ned. No. I'll offer it to Tywin instead, placate Cersei that way, damn her. And hope he's a better Hand for me than he was for the last King." He'd slept then, and Ned had walked out, past Barristan Selwy and Arys Oakheart, back to Catelyn's arms. The hard choice had been made. Robert had not compelled him, not forced him to choose between his loyalty to his lady and his king. Ned knew his duty, and knew that that could have only gone one way. In many ways, he was still glad of that choice. He was under no illusions that going with Rob to King's Landing would have cost him his life, and he had no head for the politics of that place, the thrumming heart of the Seven Kingdoms. A thrumming heart which now, by all reports, had all but stopped.

In a series of moves, half-comprehended through the messages of the ravens which flew like clouds over the strong places of Westeros, Joffery had taken the throne, supported by the Hand and his mother. Equally swift had come his death, falling off the battlements of Maegor's Holdfast a few days after his coronation while in the company of Tyrion, his uncle. Tyrion had attempted to escape, but had been caught. The gods had found against him in his trial by combat, the sellsword who had volunteered to help him was butchered by an enraged Jamie, and the boy-king Tommen crowned, but all too late to appease anyone. Renly had already marshalled his bannermen, who had broadly foresaken his brother Stannis and sailed for King's Landing. Stannis had ground his teeth, but taken a ship north to request Ned's aid. Meanwhile, in the south, an army of hot-blooded Dornishmen marched under the banner of House Martell, led by Oberyn, seeking vengeance against the Lannisters. The Greyjoys nibbled at the coast, keeping other houses quiscent, while no amount of monetary inducement or threats could persuade House Tully or the Tyrells to take up arms and defend the King.

And so it had happened- the siege of King's Landing. Renly's fleet landed and surrounded it from the north, while the Martells smashed themselves against the walls in the south. In the end, a daring raid led by Renly himself and a strange red woman threw open the gates of King's Landing, and the city was butchered. The Red Keep had fallen not long after, with Cersei choosing to jump to her death with her children rather than face capture. Jamie had fought to the last with the Kingsguard in desperate defence of the stairwell, slaying Oberyn as he led his Dornishmen to the roof of the citadel, and only being brought to bay by overwhelming force of arms. Gregor Clegane escaped in the confusion, and was pursued by the Dorns towards Lannisport, burning and slaying as he fled. Renly was crowned in the ruins of the Great Sept, contested by his brother and the forces of House Lannister, fully mobilised by a grieving Tywin, which pushed the victorious armies back toward King's Landing. Strategic alliances were made, Houses joined sides... and through all of it, the Starks remained neutral. There was a much greater threat than the south, and it came from the north.

Ned remembered the day just as though it was today. They'd responded to the desperate urgings of a fat young man who clutched a message from the Old Bear, claiming hordes of wildlings were descending on the Wall, and that they did not have the manpower to repel them. He'd mustered his bannermen and marched north, leaving Rodrik behind to defend against the krakens. Jon had met him at the Wall, grim and terrible, accompanied by Ghost, who seemed much more intelligent than was normal even for a direwolf, and the remnants of the Night's Watch and the Starks had fought a terrible battle against giants and wildlings and other things yet, all fleeing the coming of the Others. They had prevailed- just- against the first army, and every night since had fought to keep the living and the dead from crossing the Wall. They gained some respite, though many had been lost, including Robb, dying to allow the gate to Castle Black to be closed permanently. But now everyone bowed to Jon- including his father. With Bran's council- how that boy had changed!- he seemed almost otherworldly now. He'd seen him slay one of the Others in single combat himself, burying an obsidian dagger in the thing's chest and buying themselves a dozen nights to prepare.

They'd come south for this one task, to find an assassin, one swift and capable yet silent and unseen, one prepared to undertake the duty of going north with Bran for what was claimed to be the most important of tasks. One dedicated and loyal to the cause, subtle as a snow leopard and fearsome as a mountain lion. Ned did not doubt that it was necessary, though it was hard not to question his sons when they spoke sometimes. He'd learned the wisdom of not doing so from many times on the Wall when Bran's prescience and Jon's direwolf had saved the lives of his men and himself. Ned was much more comfortable with the old tales when they remained old, and yet he knew his duty. He would serve.

"Will they serve?" Jon's voice interrupted his reverie.

"They will", Ned replied. "They're all capable sellswords and assassins of a sort. I'll do my duty too, as you've said, Jon."

"You will, father. Bran says so. Or I think so. It's hard to tell what he's thinking when we're both in Ghost together."

Ned shook his head and rose. "As you say." A wry smile twisted his lips. "To think I'd have been giving you your orders a few years back, lad. Times change."
Jon matched his smile with a thinner one, and rose himself, his leanness tending toward the skeletal now, thinned by malnutrition and combat. "They are indeed. So are we, with them, or else we shall be swept away. I fear we may be anyway. It is one thing to kill one of the Others, quite another to stop them was the Wall to fall. And in one of Bran's dreams, it already has." Ned's heart chilled. "So we've already lost, then? Bran sees the future with those dreams." "We do what we can. And this is one of these things. So, please. Keep them focussed on each other. We need this to be done soon." His lithe steps carried him out of the room, leaving Ned alone, with the flickering flames of the pitch-soaked torches, and in the corners, the dark. [N.B: If anyone on the Wanted list desires a trial by combat to settle the matter of their guilt, Ned Stark is happy to oblige. Just drop me an email, your choice of time and place, would prefer lightsabers (and have two if you need one) but any weapon goes really. Winter is coming.]


[09:00 AM] One step closer to redemption, as A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. stabs No. 1 Star (Rory Geeson)

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. reports:

How TO play assassins by the Mathia

Rather desperate to get off the wanted list, I forced myself out of bed this morning for a second attempt to find my target before he went off to the wonders of a 9am lecture. I wandered into [target's college] and took up position outside his accomodation, getting a couple of strange looks from passers by. About 10 minutes later, he emerged completely oblivious to his impending doom. I snuck behind a wonderfully placed brick wall (not that there's a shortage around there) and stabbed him in the back as he walked past.


[11:05 AM] With 5 people having been wanted, the police finally swing into action, and Eddard Stark accompanies Sleepy Gary in bringing Qarlton Chelsted (Petr Dolezal) to justice

Sleepy Gary reports:

After two previous unsuccessful attempts within 24 hours (one involving getting up before dawn...), our efforts finally bore fruit, as we eventually succeeded in tracking down one Qarlton Chelsted and making him pay for his flaunting of the guild's conduct. We were poised outside his lecture theatre, ready to strike, but were about to call it a day; however, as we split up to cover different routes on our way home, I was fortunate enough to spy our target flying past on his bike. I high-tailed it around the block back to the lecture theatre, where Qarlton Chelsted was promptly taught not to kill the wrong people in future.

Qarlton Chelsted reports:

I was late and in hurry. You always die when hurrying. When tying down my metal horse, the justice came for me. One quick shot from crossbow, I couldn't even draw my knife. Slowly bleeding out and dying. Punished for not keeping our business in the world of assassins, for killing a citizen. Valar morghulis. After life comes death.

Eddard Stark reports:

Snow and ice cracked under Ned's feet as he strode out into the dark, drawing his cloak around him as the warmth of Catelyn left his body. It had been a warm enough night for these times, yet the wind now blew chill through the deserted streets of Winterfell. The sun had not yet even contemplated rising above the horizon, but one of Ned's own had been slain, and as Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty to bring the culprit the King's justice.

Ned had known it would be a problem. It would have been foolish to loose several dozen hardened killers on the unsuspecting population of Winterfell, tell them to slay one another and only one another, give them the names and abode of a select few of their number, and then expect no untoward deaths. Ned had protested when Jon proposed this, bid him recall the families with which he had grown up and implored him to select a path less dangerous for his people. Jon had prevailed, as he oft did in these times. "Father, it truly is the only way", he'd said, and with that half-dead look in his eyes, Ned believed him.

Thinking on it now, it was a very kingly thing to do, to sacrifice his own folk for something greater and nobler. Did Robert ever have to do this? They'd learned hard lessons in the rebellion, lost thousands in battles which were bitter defeats and then thrown all the survivors back into conflict again. They were fighting a war. There'd been no time for half-efforts, only for a few prayers to the old gods or to the Seven, then back into the bloody melee again. Experience had taught them that. He wondered where Jon had gained the lesson from.

Long strides brought him in sight of the East Gate. Climbing the spiral steps up to the battlements, he ran his hands over the stone, smoothed by generations of watchmen moving up and down to take their turn at guarding the mighty walls of the home of his ancestors. Ice, his greatsword, clanked against the walls as he ascended, until he finally walked out into the bitter wind. The guards were crouched around a brazier, set deep into the wall. Ned looked out over the winter town. It was a clear night. The lights shone up clearly, save from Deston Saltcliffe's home, and from Monira Stokeworth's. Both dead at the hands of those who they had invited into the settlement. Ned sighed. The gods watch over them, he thought.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted him and he turned to see Ser Gareth of the Sleep ascending the stairs and wincing in the howling wind. He forced his way forward. "Lord Stark! How do you stand this weather so easily?" He clasped Ned's arm and gestured extravagently. "This wind comes straight from the Wall!"

Ned smiled and pulled him into a bear hug. "Old friend, come. Your Dornish heritage is showing!" His smile faded a little. "What news, then?"

"Qarlton Chelsted will be going down to the river soon. I thought mayhap I'd surprise him?"

"As you say, but the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. I shall wait with you." Ned nodded to the guards. "Keep a close watch. Harrow, Falth. Patrol the streets. We'll have no more bloodshed tonight."

The men swung to obey as Ned and Gareth descended the stairwell. "Very wise, Ned. You've changed since we last were together, in the rebellion. Grimmer, I think, were that possible."

"Grim times, my friend. You've seen what lies beyond the Wall, monsters enough to make anyone grim. By the gods, I'm surprised you've kept your sense of humour through it!"

"Ah, well. You know me. Got to laugh, or... or sleep will take you." He shook his head, as if to rid himself of clinging memories. "Or something will, anyway."

They walked together through the silent passages, and came to a corner, lit by a single torch kept carefully away from the thatch above. It was somewhat hidden from view, close to where the murderer would emerge. They took their positions and waited, as the sun crept over the horizon and a few people ventured out to crunch through the snow. At one point, a cry of 'Fire!' went up and several people were marshalled past them by a guard, but still the man they wanted did not come.

Eventually, Gareth shook his head. "It's no use, Ned. Looks like my source was wrong."

"Doesn't often happen, Gar. The last time it did, we were young men, and you were very wrong about Jon Arryn not being here that day!" He smiled. "Robert never did quite forgive us for that one."

"Nay, he didn't, Seven keep him." A wry smile. "Gods, that brings back memories. Anyhow, I suppose I shall have to ask my source again about this miscreant. Perhaps he saw you hulking here." He put a hand on Ned's shoulder. "Go run the castle, Lord Stark. I'll do my work, you do yours, you honour-bound honest fool."

"As you command, Ser Gareth." Ned walked away with a smile on his lips, back into the castle, where his duties awaited him.

***

"Are you sure he'll be here this time?"

"Of course! My source was very precise. 'The eleventh hour, near the maester's turret, a bright scarf against the cold.'" He nudged Ned. "Do you doubt my anonymous informant?"

"I should like it better if I knew him myself." Ned gestured at the people going by. "Look! Dozens of them, all going to the same place. I should perhaps just assign some of the new Dothrakis to chasing him down, but that's not the way."

"Hmph. Where'd Jon get those bearded savages from anyway? And what're they doing in the freezing north? Seven hells, I don't even know what I'm doing here! Just thought I'd come and help an old friend, since the last one no longer needed me." He shivered. "And now there's thrice-damned Others and giants and I don't even know what I'm contributing. It's almost a relief to have some intrigue like this to occupy my mind, good as you are at occupying my sword-arm."

"You know it's appreciated, Gareth." The bell struck the eleventh hour. "Although your foresight does seem to be failing these days, somehow."

Gareth spat, his breath steaming in the air. "He's normally much more reliable, I tell you. Look, you circle round the other way, I'll take the main route back into the courtyard. We'll catch him between us, if he's coming."

Shaking his head, Ned strode towards the Godswood, where Jon rested, recovering from a bite from his direwolf. Ghost was currently locked up in the kennels, and making enough noise to wake the dead Starks in the crypt. Jon had said something about Bran 'getting confused'. For his part, Ned was getting more confused by the passing of each day. He still wasn't quite sure why a small group of Dothrakis had appeared midway through one particularly ferocious battle, but he thanked the gods that they had. Even if they didn't speak the Common Tongue, and they'd had to eat their horses when supplies got tight.

He snapped his head up as he heard shouting from the direction of the courtyard, and hastened into a rattling jog, loosening Ice in its sheath. He rounded the corner to see that Gareth had shot a man with a miniaturised crossbow. He slumped to the ground, blood reddening the snow and steaming in the air. "Was that him?", he shouted.

"Naturally", Gareth said, reloading his bow. "One down, a few more to go."

"Well done." Ned looked at the dead man. "It should have been me, though."

"Dead is dead." Gareth smiled. "Let's get on with the burning, then get inside to the warm. I'm eager for some ale after all this work!"

Ned nodded. They lifted the dead man up, and between them, carried him out of the castle, towards the wolfswood, into the cold.


[14:13 PM] Infighting among the darker elements of Cambridge society, as doubly-wanted A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness shoots wanted Rod Serling (Ben Weber)

Rod Serling reports:

Consider the following. There is a land, not far away, where space is always contracted, and time always dilated. It is a realm of mystery, of joy and sorrow, of success and torture. In this space the normal laws of space and time seem to no longer apply, and you find yourself trapped in THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE!
Today we consider the end of Mr Serling's journey, as his paranoia betrays him once more. Everyone out to get him, he is forced to be cautious, and he finds the journey back from the cafe where he writes more than tripled in length, due to the perils of the usual route. He passes through endless corridor, musty library, even hiding in a corridor from the spectres which haunt him. He eventually emerges into the open. Enter a member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner and Ellie Holderness, and the very soul he hoped to avoid. A direct shot to the kidney. "NO!" He yells, as he dies due to the shock of it all. His attacker out for the very purpose of finding him, only just departed from his lair. Had he risked the usual route his life would have been spared by his speed.
Was it pure coincidence, or was it unnatural forces of evil guiding the spirit of the man they had tortured back to his doom? Whatever it was, it was surely another phenomenom of THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE, one that had dispatched Mr Serling on a one-way trip to THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
ROD SERLING WILL TELL YOU ABOUT NEXT TERM'S PSEUDONYM AFTER THESE WORDS FROM OUR ALTERNATE SPONSOR.
In Cambridge lives a peculiar man, whose only language is the constructed tongue of Esperanto. Now forced into a word that isn't his, he must literally fight for any recognition of his own significance. The pseudonym is La Esperantisto, and we hope you'll come to face them. WATCH NOW AS A LOOSE COALITION OF PLAYERS PROCEED TO WAGE WAR ON THE REMAINING PEOPLE OF CAMBRIDGE!

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness reports:

Saw Ben Weber in college so I shot him. He's dead.


[14:50 PM] Reggie Bikegrease (Dan James) has his last supper, courtesy of A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Kai Hugtenburg, Claire Farey, Joe Tomkinson, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Fred Alford, Tom Flynn, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens & Freddie Brewer reports:

More tips on how to assassin good:

If you are good friends with one of their friends, get him pointed out at lunch.

Don't use guns at the dinner table, but knives are perfectly acceptable table manners.

Don't be wanted.

Should Petr be already dead after going wanted for his crimes, don't give up and just move to another college.

Do make sure to check for pictures of the target, especially if they can then be recognised from the back of their head at lunch.

Do sit with your assassin friends at lunch.

Don't all come unarmed.

Do bring your own knives to other colleges, you can never be too sure of theirs.

Do apologise to Dan afterwards for the murder.

Do bring the [THERE ARE NO MATHIAS IN CAMBRIDGE] KD ratio from 1:2 to 2:1


[16:40 PM] Despite rumours of a gatling gun, Ordinary Mathmo (Charlie Chen) is murdered by A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness reports:

Made an attempt on Charlie Chen at 2:40pm today, gun misfired, he misses with an umbrella stab, I leave. Second attempt resulted in Charlie's death at 4:40pm by a simple shot to the body as he'd left his door ajar.


[18:10 PM] Newly resurrected Rod Serling goes on the rampage, stabbing his killer A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness

Rod Serling reports:

A cold hall, a colder evening. The wind howls outside, icicles form on the ceiling, but a motley group of friends find shelter below, dining on assorted steaks. Suddenly a mighty gust blows open the door, and knocks several of the lethal spears above flying down. The other diners gasp in shock as one impales their friend through the heart.

I have kissed him before, on the arms and legs. Now I kiss him again on the heart. He is mine, MINE! I have claimed him! Oh no, an ambulance crew, I do hope they're too late...

[As A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Tom Flynn, Claire Farey, Curtis Reubens, Kai Hugtenburg, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Gwilym Kuiper, James Brotherston, Fred Alford, Georgie Turner & Ellie Holderness had redeemed, and was only on the list because of inconsistent updating, I am annulling this kill. -TS]


[20:30 PM] Terror, as Sir Phobos of House Jagx shoots Moustache Mormont (Nicholas Harrison)

Sir Phobos of House Jagx reports:

Dear Umpire.

Nicholas Harrison is dead. Unaware he was being watched as he consumed his final meal I knew he would soon be leaving the dining hall and a trap was set. Having established the route to his room I waited. Word was sent to me that he had been sighted on the floor below. I began to follow him remaining a flight of stairs behind as he climbed higher. As he reached his floor my pace quickened. I was a flight of stairs behind. He saw me but not my weapon. Sensing something was a miss he sped to his room in panic. I made my move. I drew my weapon and dispatched of Nicholas with a shot to the chest followed by a second to the leg. Who will be next?

Moustache Mormont reports:

It is with great sadness that I am reporting my eventual demise. While walking up the stairs to my room, I walked past someone who was doing some work and stopped for a chat. A minute later while I was unlocking the door to my room, a different person came running up the stairs after me with a Nerf Gun. Being the idiot that I am, I didn't think that [someone] would be hunting me down so I didn't even bat an eyelid until they had already shot me in the chest with a single well aimed shot.
It turns out that the person I passed on the staircase earlier that was working actually informed my assassin that I was walking up the stairs so he could run after me and hunt me down.
Learn from my mistakes and don't follow in my footsteps.
In the words of the great Fox Mulder: Trust No One.

Thursday, 28 January


[11:15 AM] A single bullet for Bittersteel (Henry Dickie), felled by Alex H.'s Second-Worst Nightmare... (his worst nightmare is the Umpire's poetry).

Alex H.'s Second-Worst Nightmare... (his worst nightmare is the Umpire's poetry) reports:
firstkill


[13:06 PM] Fallen friends are avenged, as Nice guy takes out Rightskian (Lee Tomlinson)

Nice guy reports:

Hi,

Just to report, I've successfully assassinated Rightskian by stabbing him as he was enjoying his lunch in order avenge the deaths of Undertaker and Revan whilst HashtagRekt watched gleefully!

Let there be more deaths!
Nice guy


[19:00 PM] Littlefingers makes his first play, striking down The Big D (Richard Miller) in a back-alley

Littlefingers reports:

Friday, 29 January


[09:50 AM] Quaithe of the Shadow keeps the police force in check, killing The Kindly Man (Peter Rugg) for bearing

Quaithe of the Shadow reports:

As I was walking to lectures today I saw The Kindly Man showing off to his uni shadow with the Jolt I lent him. So to give them a more practical demonstration of Guild activities, I took position upwind, pulled out my own Jolt, and challenged Peter to a duel right there and then. He shot and missed. I took two steps forward, shot, and murdered him for bearing. The shadow seemed amused.
The Kindly Man reports:

I was caught bearing by Quaithe of the Shadow in the grounds of St John's and challenged to a duel with Jolt nerf guns. Her gun misfired, and then I missed, and she shot and killed me.


[10:55 AM] The loose coalition strikes again, with Benjen Naharis (Alistair O'Neill) the latest victim of A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Gwilym Kuiper, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg.

A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Gwilym Kuiper, Ellie Holderness, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg. reports:

I'd just been to a lecture with a loose group of friends including A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Ellie Holderness, Kai Hugtenburg, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Tom Flynn & Freddie Brewer, [some dead person], A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper., and as I walked out of the lecture, I noticed one of my targets about 2 meters in front of me. I hesitated, thinking this must be too easy, but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Plus I was still with a couple of people, including A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. and A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn, so I took the opportunity and stabbed him in the back. Worth it.

Benjen Naharis reports:

It was an unfortunately well known fact that I am a man of learning and spend many an hour in the Citadel of Maesterical Sciences. I did not, however, require a silver link of medicine to know that the blade slithered between my vertebrae spelled my demise. As my body tumbled down the steps from the hall of learning, my vision fading, the last I made out was my killer's entourage convening.

Valar Morghulis,
Benjen Neharis


[18:25 PM] The ultimate betrayal in the Citadel of Maesterical Sciences, as The Kingslayer slays the Umpire (Twm Stone)

The Kingslayer reports:

By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right? I saw the Umpire, with a weapon nearby, so I engaged him in light conversation until he made to gather his belongings, when I saw it. He was clearly going to engage in the slaughter of thousands of innocents with that weapon. What choice did I have? I stabbed him.

Now they shall call me The Kingslayer.

[Yes, I was bearing, albeit very briefly, so I am not making him wanted. Regardless, please actually go after your own targets and not me! -TS]

Jon Snow reports:

BURN THEM ALL!


[19:00 PM] Coalition in the banana republic, as General Alcazar helps General Tapioca kills a corpse

General Tapioca reports:

On Friday I along with the leader of an allied force (General Alcazar) launched a strike on a veritable nest of miscreants [somewhere]. Having gained entry to the first house to be cleared out, I gunned down my target (The Big D) in cold blood as he made for the exit. It turned out however that he had already been slain by a duplicitous neighbour...

Saturday, 30 January


[10:00 AM] Another betrayal, as Judas backstabs A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. (Claire Farey)

Judas reports:

Order 66.


A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of James Brotherston, Curtis Reubens, Claire Farey, Fred Alford, Freddie Brewer, Ellie Holderness, Joe Tomkinson, Georgie Turner, Tom Flynn, Kai Hugtenburg & Gwilym Kuiper. reports:

More advice from the Mathia:

DO: Carry a gun into the CMS at all times, espeically when wanted.

DON'T : Stop for a chat with your recently deceased friend on the way to lectures.

DO: Enter the CMS from the back, so that assassins on the roof never see you.

DON'T: Trust Judas.

DO: Check that other innocents are not nearby to act as witnesses when you murder a member of the Mathia in front of dead assassins.

DON'T: Gloat about how no one can tell the Mathia about your betrayal.

DO: Murder traitorous members of the Mathia. Right now. Kill him.

Claire Farey


[12:00 PM] Police siege the CMS, and HashtagRekt goes on a killing spree, killing Nice guy (Kush Banga), The Squinter (Lee Tomlinson), and The Waif (Noemi Ammaturo)

Eddard Stark reports:
The sword in his hand thrummed as Ned ran the whetstone down it. Ice hardly ever required the attention of a grindstone, but the long fighting at the Wall had rendered the edge of the blade too rough, as he had found when it kept sticking in the bodies of the wights he'd held off as they attempted to press through the gateway and into his homeland. The castle smith had done well to it, sharpened it to a keen edge, but Ned still liked the comfort of the familiar motion. It kept his mind from the person for whom he waited- the last of the miscreants that had slaughtered his own like cattle, and refused to face him in a noble and open conflict. With the aid of the gods, this could be over soon.

He'd been awakened the previous night by a vision of a woman in a red mask of wood. She'd bid him be here at this appointed hour if he wished to catch the murderess, and then vanished. Catelyn, beside him, had heard nothing, and counselled him not to go, fearing it to be a trap. They'd argued back and forth that night, as rarely they did, and Ned longed to ask Ser Gareth for his advice- but he was gone, off on a scouting mission, and not expected to return for a day hence. Although it pained him, Ned was not suited to subterfuge. In the end, he decided it would be ill done to ignore a portent of such gravity. Catelyn reluctantly concurred.

So he had set out as the sun rose a bloody disc in the sky and stood in the place of which the vision had spoken, the twists and turns of the winter town having made him tardy by a few minutes. The masked figure from his dream there stood, flanked by a Dothraki man, an unarmed knight, and a foreign-born wielding a crossbow, all of whom turned to look upon Eddard as he approached. His memory moved- he remembered the apparent leader of the Dothraki from the conflict at the Wall. She'd struck down foes and then simply faded back into the darkness. She'd killed more than him, by many score. "Quaith."

"Eddard Stark. I am glad you have arrived here. Your presence is useful." She turned to take in the entire group. "Gentleman. You will stop the unworthy ones. The Mother of Dragons must reach the Wall. We gain time here." A ribbon of darkness snaked around them, tingling as it touched them, and as it did so, the shadows coalesced into twelve faces, moving as though the souls of the individuals which they represented were trapped within them, solidifying in front of each man. Ned had reached for Ice as soon as the darkness had emerged, and drew it, five feet of Valyrian steel glinting as it reflected the sun. The Dothraki drew back. Quaith turned to him, eyes glittering like coals in the shadows behind the mask. "What is it, Lord Stark?"

"What are you giving me, Quaith? I have asked for nothing, and certainly not for-" he gestured- "this. Dark magic in Winterfell. The gods will not stand for it! Tell me swiftly- what is it that you seek?"

"I give you nothing but what you asked for, in your sleep at night. I give you the head of one who slew your people. I give you her companions. Should they pass this way this day, they shall die." She cocked her head in askance.

Ned shook his head. "You court disaster by these actions. Gods help me, I have only Jon's word to go on, yet he speaks of disaster should the process be corrupted by external influences. We are permitted only to bring to justice those who prove themselves incapable of control by killing out of turn, and save the one I seek, none of the others are blameworthy."

"You see only the surface, I see the people within. The allies of the woman who will this day die show themselves contemptuous of your rules. Have not two of their number already bismarched their records? Why think the others to be different?"

He furrowed his brow. It was true that there, on the shadow in front of him, was the face of another killer. If they were all working together... "Be that as it may, I will not see innocents harmed. You must control your men." Resheathing Ice, he relaxed a little. "You have a plan, I presume."

The crinkles of what might have been a smile flickered in the corner of the red-masked woman's eyes. "Yes, son of Brandon. Abide here with this man." She pointed at the knight with long fingers. "He will speak, and you will slay. We shall take the other routes. They all will die this day."

And so Ned had found himself, in the shadowed shade near the entrance to a hall, with a silent presence at his side, sharpening his blade. The shadowed apparition displaying the faces had proven malleable, and was stowed in a pocket sewn in his furs. People passed by him, but it was not until Ice had a fine edge- not too fine, for that would simply render it more easily damaged- that someone he recognised passed by. He called a name, but the individual barely slowed. Ned shrugged and returned to the greatsword. His was not the head he looked for.

A few minutes later, the man returned. He was young, of average size and build, clad in a hauberk, but not visibly armed. Ned spoke his name again, but the man only smiled and shook his head.

"Judas. They call me that now, or they shall."

The name was unfamiliar- perhaps from Bravos or one of the far lands. "Why?"

"Given time, I will betray them to their deaths. Useful though they are for now, in time they shall not be. And then they shall remember Order 66."

Confusion reigned on Ned's face. "Order 66?"

The man looked amused. "Another time, perhaps. Seekst thou Miss Farey? She comes not here for another hour yet, and then to another hall." He pointed across from Ned to a different meeting place.

"You do a good service, lad. I'll remember it. The resources of the watch are yours should you need them and not break the law, as I remember you have done before." He stood up, and sheathed Ice again, nodding to his still-silent companion. "Tell Quaithe the hunt is over for now, and to return hence in an hour." And with that, he strode off into the busy streets, toward the godswood, where business awaited him.

***

A few hours later, Ned returned to the spot, leaving behind the shouts and laughter of children as they played chase-the-dragon through the snow-bound streets. He approached the entrance to the hall, before a shadow detached itself from a corner. Judas.

"I killed her already."

"What?"

"Claire Farey is dead. The rest seek me now, for I left a witness. I fear this may leave me dead, for they know my movements. Seven Hells, I looked for you! But in the end, you weren't there, and I did the deed myself, and damn the consequences."

"It should have been I that swung the sword." Rebuking himself for his curmudgeonliness, Ned clapped him on the shoulder. "You've done well, lad. Good luck, Judas." He left, frowning slightly in self-criticism. Two deaths of people he had wanted dead, neither by his hand. Surely, though, all in all, it been a good morning's work. All that threatened his people were dead, and the alliance seemed to be splitting apart. He hastened back to the Maester's tower, where Jon waited the tidings of the day.

***

"That was ill done, Ned."

They sat by the fire. Jon's wound was healing slowly, but he was still raw, and enjoyed the warmth. Maester Luwin said it helped the healing process, which Ned could well believe. He shook his head, and smiled the rueful smile he'd had to use many a time since the war began and everything changed.

"You know, that's just the tone I took with you when you were a lad. I'm sorry though, Jon. I didn't realise how far they would go."

"One challenger dead, one injured, two Dothrakis dead and the perpetrator still living. Nay, this day has not gone as I would have had it go." He shifted in his place. Ned stared into the harsh flames that fled up the chimney. It had indeed been a bloody day, and some of that blood had been on his hands. Jon cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Only one course of action remains to us then. Quaithe and the one she inspired, the one who has been slaughtering the Dothrakis, must be hunted."

Ned's eyes widened. "Jon, we'll lose the Dothrakis! Wherever they came from, what's certain is that they follow her!"

"Indeed. But they will follow others. Quaithe, though, she plays her own game, I am sure. What you said about the Mother of Dragons... it stirs a memory. She must not be here at this time. All is far too delicate, Bran's dreams are erratic and oftentimes wrong, which shows some other power confusing it. We cannot have another piece on the board."

Ned saw the wisdom, of course. One question remained.

"What if she does not flee? Without her, we would have lost the Wall. When can she be redeemed?"

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When the Wall falls and the Others reign. When the world ends in fire and blood."

Jon Snow reports:

A small team of police, led by Quaithe of the Shadow, decided to siege the CMS to kill the wanted player who attends lectures there. Non-police player HashtagRekt was posted on the roof, with a very large water gun, photos of all the 'Mathia', and instructions to shoot them on sight. Needless to say, *this is not OK*. A member of a loose coalition of players consisting of Kai Hugtenburg, Fred Alford, James Brotherston, Georgie Turner, Curtis Reubens, Gwilym Kuiper, Joe Tomkinson, Freddie Brewer, Claire Farey, Ellie Holderness & Tom Flynn was shot illicitly, in what was effectively a police hit on an otherwise uninvolved player. The function of the police force is to track down and kill players who break the rules or do not participate, not to assassinate those who choose not to go after Wanted players for their own reasons. As such, this kill is annulled, and both HashtagRekt and Quaithe of the Shadow are made Wanted/Corrupt, the former severely and the latter irredeemably.

HashtagRekt decided to go on a killing spree afterwards, killing Nice guy, The Waif, and The Squinter. Illicitly, of course, but without police involvement, so these kills stand. A further 'kill' on The Kindly Man was annulled due to bicycles being Out of Bounds to melee weapons, and the subsequent preemptive assassination of HashtagRekt by Quaithe of the Shadow was also annulled, due to the aforementioned 'police not there to kill random other players' and the fact that he was not (yet!) on the wanted list.


[13:00 PM] Gryph, Griff, Gryff and Griph targets Tyrone Targetyan (Danny Hunt)

Gryph, Griff, Gryff and Griph reports:

Spotted Tyrone Targetyan as he was leaving his lectures this morning, so i [sic] stabbed him first in his arm then in the back.


[18:20 PM] Extreme wantedness takes its toll, as HashtagRekt (Alexey Sorokin) and Quaithe of the Shadow (Kim Ward) double-kill

Quaithe of the Shadow reports:

I dressed up in my bear costume (because why would I need to worry about bearing given that I was already Corrupt and a licit target anyways?) and brought along a dartgun and laser sword. I found him sitting at a table eating: he looks up, sees me, and pulls out a laser sword of his own, stolen from the cold dead hands of Peter. (I knew I shouldn't have given them out like that...)

Picture this: the smell of canteen fare; the fluorescent hanging lights above, the murmur of unsuspecting conversations all around. The tables in long rows; him in one, me in the adjacent, each of us seperated from one another by about two feet of wood at waist height. My sword flashes out: he steps away. He sweeps his around in an arc: I move back a pace. We prowl, catlike (or in my case, bearlike), neither of us willing to fully commit.

He makes a dash for the door. I follow.

Now out of the canteen, it's safe to use ranged weapons. His of choice: a Jolt, again lent by me to Peter and looted from his corpse. My dartgun is slightly larger, a two-shooter. I fire and miss, thinking I have expended both. One of them is still in the gun. He fires and misses too.

He pulls a dart out his pocket and starts to reload. I dash in with the sword.

(What followed was a chaotic melee of flimsy little paper things whacking other flimsy little paper things, but after about two seconds it was clear that both of us were dead three or more times over. We decided to call it a double-kill and pick up our darts, at which point I realise that I could have shot him when he was reloading instead of throwing caution and life to the wind with the desperate charge.)

As the sun's last light left the tallest tower of my home at the end of this day of blood, six corpses lay where before there were none, and no victor stood above them.

And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.

Valar Morghulis,
Quaithe of the Shadow.

HashtagRekt reports:

Dear Umpire,

While I was peacefully eating my dinner, corrupted chief of police tried to assassinate me. I successfully escaped from dining hall and tried to kill her with my jolt gun, but miserably failed. Then we started sword fighting. I ended up sending corrupted chief of police to heaven exactly at the moment I was mortally wounded.

So my journey ends here...


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