The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 NewsIn one's journey through the different regions, one encounters a variety of people. None however, have glass eyes, a wooden leg, and a Strangely Shaped Gash Across his Chest. But one such man approached me today, and asked if I wanted to join him on a stakeout. Knowing that my team were desperate for some more action, I gladly accepted.
I arrived slightly before The Man, and scouted out our target's residence. Access was not an issue, nor was seeing whether they would be coming and going. When Darby arrived, we assumed out positions and waited. And waited some more.
I was beginning to run out of Pokeblocks, Poffin and Poke beans to feed everyone. The light had been on for most of the time we had been waiting, but now it had turned off. Was it finally time for our target to leave their room?
It would appear not, and after a try on the door, we decided approaching an hour and a half was long enough. I decided this one try would be all for tonight, I needed some food of my own after watching so many smiling faces of my team devouring their food, and so we went back to my base. From there, my Glass-Eyed Friend went in search of more incompetents. I can only hope he was successful.
Forgive me, for I am a sinner:
Stained in blood, and no more a beginner:
I am sorely agog;
I shot a poor frog,
As he went on his way to his dinner.
After my own water guns were used to kill off half my staff, this Verily Furious Deputy decided to take inco-hunting matters into her own hands and breach the time-honoured stronghold of [REDACTED] College, home to approximately the same number of mafias as my beloved home college [that is, none]. The lunch hall, seat of all debauchery, was a Vast Failure in Design for this lesser-spotted Snicket to attack, so I idly decided to walk up Kim Warde's staircase before heading back into the crowds. (I'd been peoplewatching for an hour on my stroll for fleeting glimpses of tattoos, but no luck so far.)
Here is something you may have not yet learned about the world, children: sometimes people are exactly where you expect them to be. Although this is, in and of itself, unexpected. So perhaps to be truly where I would have expected her to be, Kim Warde would have been in an unexpected place, thus making the unexpected place expected, although truthfully I was glad she was not somewhere else, because my laser sword only reaches about 2m.
One small victory for a Kit, one giant incolist to hack my way through. *twirls bat threateningly*
I arrived at my target's (The Penguin of Death) building at around half 5 and managed to sneak in. Sadly my target wasn't in so I decided to call it a day at around 6. As I was walking out, I recognised my target from [REDACTED] and shot her with my gun. We had a quick chat and I left home to grab some dinner.
My, but things have been busy around this area lately. And yet still so many inactive assassins. See, thereâ??s one here, walking out of his lecture. Oh, and a strange individual is walking towards him and asking his name. I wonder how this ends?
Ah, yes. It ends with him getting very shot.
The marketplace was heaving with loud customers, who haggled with the even louder sellers of wares. Moving from stall to stall was a struggle with this many people packed in one space. Yet swiftly through the bustle darted The Spyglass, clenching he unassuming mini-water-blaster. Then, he appeared. Atykhron had been causing him much trouble lately, ejecting her from the learning emporium of Moodle on a much-too-regular basis. Learning that he was Officially Incompetent just gave The Spyglass a legitimate means of killing him and his reign of terror.
Atykhron was well-known in the marketplace,and being outed as an incompetent Assassin was by far the worst thing that could happen to a public figure. The Spyglass called his name and no sooner had he turned - perhaps he thought someone had recognised him as a BNOM - and replied in the affirmative that poor Atykhron was struck by the first bullet.
He had let his guard down, barely attempting to identify what unknown figure stood before him prior to responding. Now he had paid for it. What made it worse was his futile attempt at avoidance, for he turned away in naive hope. The revolver shots then embedded themselves along his right side, tearing out the dotted line upon which The Spyglass signed, sealed and delivered his fate.
"That was easy," scoffed The Spyglass. "Almost too easy." He turned and left the marketplace as quickly as he had entered it (after all, it was lunchtime), parting the sea of stunned onlookers as he went.
Count Olaf reports:
I was killed at 2pm today. Best wishes from afterlife, Kit Kat
I was lucky to have a friend who has arrived from a faraway land, accompanied by his Yandere friends. He was always the most popular in his high school so popular that four adoring (plushie) fangirls who would give their lives for him (literally) had also made the journey, at their own expense without invitation. This man was Yandere Vocaloids' Senpai. I arranged to meet him, along with some of my Pokemon team, outside [Redacted]. We were expecting Isadora Quagmire to arrive also, but after waiting a few minutes, decided to try our first target on our own.
I had visited his accommodation before, so we quickly made out way in. Yandere Vocaloids' Senpai didn't seem worthy of his friends' depth of affection. For one, he had not brought the right Pokemon lure, which I had adapted for humans, but this one would have to do. I knocked on the door and called to our victim, and Yandere Vocaloids' Senpai took position at the door. At this point, it became clear that his acting skills were lacklustre, and I began to wonder what these girls saw in him at all. One of them was eager for blood, however our victim did not open his door, despite saying he'd be out in a sec. We waited around five minutes and decided to leave, certain that he would not actually be coming out.
We then made our way towards a second target's residence. At this point, Isadora Quagmire arrived and told us that due to [Redacted reason] our target was definitely not in their accommodation. We arranged to go to [Redacted college] for one last attempt. As Isadora Quagmire had a significant speed advantage on us, we assumed when we arrived that she would already be at the place when we arrived, so quickly navigated to our final target's abode. However, unfortunately he was out, so we left. At this point we found Isadora Quagmire, and told her the news. We could see from outside that he was indeed absent, and not just ignoring us. Having spent enough time trying and failing to find targets, we decided to call it a day for now.
Just killed a player named The Nevermore Tree who had come to kill me for being incompetent. I opened the door and instantly shot her with a nerf gun. She tried to stab me but was already dead.
Just to inform you that on 8/2/17, around 5:15pm I was killed by my target The Incredibly Deadly Sniper when I went to kill him. His room-mate lured me into the set at which point he jumped out a cupboard and shot me.
Alas, another day was drawing to a close. I had just asked someone to phone me and while I sat waiting for their call, I heard a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I asked. A voice replied "it's me!". "Who's that" I replied. "You should be able to tell by my voice", he said, "but it's Not A Crazed Gunman." I cautiously opened the door. He came in and no sooner had he done so than I abandoned him to take my call. He revealed that he had come as part of a plot to kill Count Olaf in an operation called 'Count-Down'. We then moved to an observation point where Not A Crazed Gunman proceeded to hang out of a window while we conversed some more (mostly about all of the strange looks he was receiving from passers by!). . .
Then the moment came. We started to head down the stairs. Not A Crazed Gunman removed his gown, revealing a previously hidden Retaliator, prepared it for the fight and replaced his gown. Then, in a sudden attack of image awareness, he once more removed his gown, casting it aside, and we moved on. Then, in yet another pang of developed dress sense, he began to ponder whether or not he should in fact wear the gown. We finally decided he should wear it, we went back, got the gown, he once more donned it and (finally) we set off.
I followed Not A Crazed Gunman to spectate (and also to scout out areas he could not see into), until we reached the ambush zone. We had not been waiting long when Count Olaf (who was with The Man With Glass Eyes, A Wooden Leg, a Strangely Shaped Gash Across his Chest, Three Iron Fingers and a Burn Scar on his Shoulder and This is What Happens when you Repeatedly Hit a Cucco with a Sword) came into view. Then began an intense fire fight. First Not A Crazed Gunman shot Count Olaf in the hand, then Count Olaf shot me in the chest. I then complained saying that I was completely unarmed as far as he was concerned and not at all bearing, nor was I involved in the fight. His solution was to once more shoot me with has water gun at point plank range, only this time, only the face would suffice as his target! He then made several attempts at Not A Crazed Gunman, and then there was a rapid exchange of blows, ending when we could convince ourselves that Not A Crazed Gunman had been shot. We then proceeded to determine the exact outcome of the fight. Based on eye witness reports and ballistic analysis, we were able to determine that in fact Not A Crazed Gunman had dealt a kill shot to Count Olaf shortly before Count Olaf had then shot Not A Crazed Gunman. We then proceeded to endeavour to sort out the mess and finally communicate (to me at least) what had been happening.
I find that once again, I have been killed. Alas, one does ones best. But at least I can merry in the fact that Count Olaf has finally met his maker. . .
Umpire's Notes
So, The Incredibly Deadly Sniper had previously shot someone in order to regain competence. However, said shooting was illicit (since the person involved was not bearing at the time) so even if I had gotten around to updating the list, he'd be Wanted rather than Inco and it wouldn't have changed his licitness for Police.
Dearest reader,
My reports continue. I was able to once again track down the drill master. Upon seeing my face and seeing me threateningly produce some garlic and onions, he immediately cracked. From him, I have learned the rest of the tale.
Hear one thing, raise an arm, slightly bent, place one leg back. Hear a thud on the floor to his left, spin anticlockwise on the ball of his right foot and snap his left leg outwards. Feel something collide with his heel... click his tongue, discover from the echo that there is an object the size of a large log lying on the floor by his feet.
Feel an object placed into his hands... an L shaped object with a ring that his index finger could slide into. Hear a crack to his left, turn, squeeze his finger through the ring, silence...
Return to his hallucinations.
His hands learned to identify the difference between a real gun and the paintball weapons he was sometimes handed. He learned to identify from a person's footsteps how tall they were, where their head would be. He could hear the clicking of their weapons being brought up towards him, and he could shoot their hands before they could shoot him.
But he refused to kill...
Blind, trapped in a world that only he truly could see, but somehow, this man turned into a trained killer, with no murderous intent at all.
At first, they beat him in an attempt to make him kill... but when he still refused, and as his training progressed, they found that it took more and more men to subdue him and that he would take more and more before dropping. Eventually, it got to the point where even if they brought ten against him, one of them would get hurt, so they gave up.
He was declared, by The Thing to be a failure.
And so, they made moves to kill him.
However, I myself am currently following another member of The Thing in an attempt to learn more. I have a clear view of the café they are staying in, a lovely little place between Trumpington Street and the Museum, which I can fervently recommend trying the Chelsea buns from. They are nearing the end of their own Danish pastry as I write, so I must cut this report short and go to more recent events.
------------------------------------
How difficult could it be to kill an incompetent? How much trouble must a person put in in order to bring down a person who had not themselves shown any real skill as of yet.
Now, there was a difference between them not having shown any skill and not actually having any skill. Just because a person is on the list does not mean that they are not paranoid, observant and a damn good shot with a pistol.
The Man with Glass Eyes, a wooden leg and a strangely shaped gash across his chest smelt blood. Somebody had been hurt here. His hands moved along the walls, searching for something that felt sticky, but whatever had happened, the cleanup had been efficient.
Which meant that the assassin had stuck around to clean up.
Probably not somebody who came here to kill the incompetent actually doing the killing then.
This person was dangerous.
So... how were they armed?
He sniffed again. Gunpowder...
His hands traced the walls.
No bullet holes, the weapon had been a small one.
He looked sightlessly back at his ally.
"Alright. Let's do this."
The man silently nodded and raised a hand to knock while the Man with Glass Eyes secreted himself just out of sight.
"Hey, is [Redacted] in? I have his lecture notes from earlier."
Something clicked.
Ah, that would be his weapon... no spinning chamber by the sounds of things, and no clip by what he heard. The weapon was a single shot pistol.
The man with glass eyes brushed the trigger of his own weapon and waited silently.
"Did I now? No, I don't think I did... hello Mr Assassin."
To his credit, Cucco did a brilliant job of acting confused.
"What? What do you mean assassin?" (The exact words escape me, but I believe that it was something along those lines).
The door opened very slowly and the man started to speak again.
A bullet slightly moved in a chamber, the sound giving away that it was indeed their target opening the door and not his roommate.
The Man with Glass Eyes fired blindly (read: I saw a jolt protrude from the doorway and made an educated guess about where its owner would be while hiding round the corner, so unable to actually see them).
A short cry followed, then a thud.
He fired twice more to be sure of death before spinning his gun around his finger and pocketing it once again.
The Incredibly Deadly Sniper had been beaten at his own game, it seemed.
(May I just say, that is quite possibly the best damn pseudonym I've ever heard).
Now, there was just one more thing to do.
You see, for all that this had been a successful venture, Cucco and The Man with Glass Eyes were not here just for The Incredibly Deadly Sniper. There was... another here.
If he was honest, The Man with Glass Eyes didn't know how he felt about what was going to come next.
Dear reader, I am out of time. The man I am aiming to follow has finished his pastry and I must follow.
Until my next report, I remain eternally your friend, D.B.
The light snowfall in the early hours of the morning reminded me of the snow that was a defining feature of my hometown, and I couldn't help but feel nostalgic as I walked towards my next intended victim's place of work. While I had found myself able to adapt to this strange land of dispersed colleges, constant work, and occasional murder, Erebonia still held a place in my heart. Circumstances had dictated that I be awake at this hour, so I decided to make use of the opportunity.
I arrived at [REDACTED] in plenty of time to find the building and a good spot, and thankfully one presented itself very quickly. So I set myself up for a stakeout, and began catching up on some of my work at the academy. Having almost lost a year to my pursuits for the Chancellor once, I did not want to risk it actually happening this time. As much as I enjoyed life at the academy, it wouldn't be the same without my peers, who would all be leaving at the end of this year.
That wasn't to say that I was unaware of my surroundings. I made sure to look at each person entering the building. However, while I knew what time my target was likely to be arriving, they never appeared. I stuck around for an extra half an hour to make sure they weren't just running late. Unfortunately, they weren't, and so I had to leave empty handed. Perhaps this is a hit better suited for someone else.
Went hunting for The Incredibly Deadly Sniper on Tuesday, but couldn't find him. Lurked outside The Watcher's room for a bit on Thursday but she seemed too busy sleeping to come out and merrily impale herself on my sword.
Spent 45 minutes outside [REDACTED] waiting for The Shadow - but no sign. Had anyone entered or left the building I would have snuck it but it was eerily deserted...
Upon hearing of the demise of Count Olaf I rearranged my attempt on him to instead be on The Shadow (again). With an accomplice I made my way into [REDACTED] and determined that the area was clear of [THERE ARE NO MAFIAS IN CAMBRIDGE]. We then knocked on The Shadow's door, and hearing no reply, tested the handle. It opened and I waited for him in his room for 70 minutes before giving up and returning home. I did not leave a note.
Athos and I went into [REDACTED], and I 'abandoned' them in The Shadow's room.
A woman knocked on my door. Having recently purchased a Nerf gun and armed also with my knife-pen and 'lethal attack floof' (fox plush), I decided I would try and take this person down. I opened my door slightly and prepared my gun. She poked a rubber-band-gun through the door and started blind-firing. Several shots were fired but they all missed as I was rather close to the door, and they hit the wall behind me. Once the shooting stopped, I retaliated and fired a single bullet around the door, killing my assailant. What I didn't expect, however, was that they were accompanied. My weapon was single-shot, and I didn't have time to reload, so I retreated into the main part of the room and took cover, pulling my knife-pen out. As I dived for cover a single bullet hit my right arm, crippling it and forcing me to change hands with my knife. Before I could retaliate, a large Nerf gun poked around the corner and hit my stomach, killing me.
I was standing in the hall from five to six to six oh one,
Heartbeat racing, fingers shaking, you bet I was having fun.
There was silence from the room,every creak and sigh forgone,
But I'd looked under the door and I could tell the light was on.
I realised it was likely that I was all alone,
The lights were on but there was nobody home.
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