Cloak & Dagger The Assassins' Guild - Week 4 News

Sunday, 19 February

[13:50 ] Is this a Jagger I see before me?'s interaction with Ellen Turnbull was a resounding success.
Is this a Jagger I see before me? reports:

I have noticed a pattern, dearest Guild.

Every single AG victim of mine thus far in the game (Mr. Smith, Miss Hollis, Mr. Labram, Mr. Horder) has not worn glasses. However, every single person to kill me (Mr. Nordstrom, Mr. Bielby) has. What's more, everyone I should have killed (Mr. Nordstrom, Mr. Lester and now Miss Ellen Turnbull) thus far has been similarly bespectacled. I can only conclude that as a serial glasses-wearer myself I have invoked some kind of demented voodoo spell upon my person, and will forever be unable to destroy those with Externally Assisted Vision.

I mention this because today, at about 1:50 p.m, I espied Ellen Turnbull walking from her hostel to her college (or maybe her department block) along the other side of the street (in, need I add, a long black coat), probably unaware of quite how fortunate she was. For, and I blush to relate it, this was perhaps the first time in four weeks that I had ventured out into the streets of Cambridge without a valid AG weapon to hand. Hastily searching for a piece of paper in my wallet that I could attach to my inert pen (teehee), I could only find a £5 banknote. Deciding not to sacrifice my hard-earnt (teeheehee) money upon someone who was by now nearly out of sight, not to mention a thoroughly feared, deadly, and psychotic assassin (sarcasm) I grumpily continued onwards, cursing my lack of preparation. Honestly, though, someone else should get her soon, someone who isn't under the power of immutable forces...

[18:30 ] The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge couldn't find (or spell) Alexey Pokrovskiy.
The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge reports:

You can't do that, Dave.

[21:00 ] ]:D-/-<, Major Dennis Bloodnok, late of the Third Disgusting Fusiliers, Half Pint Posted, The Security Services III and The Storyteller successfully failed successively to kill Alex Labram, Ellen Turnbull and Tom Booth.
]:D-/-< reports:

Dear Umpire,

Tonight I went on a SWAT raid with Major Dennis Bloodnok, late of the Third Disgusting Fusiliers, Half Pint Posted, The Storyteller and The Security Services III. It was not particularly sucessful. Firstly, I went to the meeting place of Foundress Court with great suspicion over whether it was a set-up. I therefore went by a rather round-about route, and went prepared with heavy weapons (subtlely of course :P) should Tom Booth decide to jump out at me. It turned out that this was not the case, and so since we were a bit late to catch Tom at formal hall we decided to go to Christ's and shoot Alex Labram first.

We entered 4 staircase and went to hide around the corner from his room. We then sent Half Pint Posted to knock on the door, with the fantastic excuse "I'm trying to find Ed Heaney's room, can you tell me where it is please". We had considered using excuses involving Heaney's mum, but this might have been a little bit too obvious.

To our surprise Alex Labram actually opened the door (wearing only a dressing gown). I waited for the discussion to get going for a few seconds, and then jumped around the corner and unloaded my powerclip at him. Unfortunately, it would appear that he was not as trusting as it had first seemed, and had only opened his door very slightly and was prepared to jump out of the way and close the door when I did so.

Major Dennis Bloodnok, late of the Third Disgusting Fusiliers said that he could hear the sound of a CPS being loaded, and so we made a tactical retreat, except for The Storyteller, who said we were lame and remained behind. He came out a few minutes later with my nerf darts, which Alex Labram had kindly returned.

We then went to see that terrible inco Ellen Turnbull. The Storyteller told us at this point that he was bored, and was going home. His choice of route was suspiciously antipodal to Fitz, and so this nearly caused a tactical retreat, but we kept our nerve and went to Ellen Turnbull's staircase.

We gained access to her staircase by the simple expedient of waiting for someone else to go in, and then following them. We prepared to lurk her toilet, bathroom, kitchen and stairwell between us, but we changed our minds when some guy got a bit 'I think I shall call the relevent authorities' sort of suspicious.

After these two fantastic successes we felt that we were on a roll, and so we went to see if we could catch Tom Booth on his way out of formal hall. We lurked so that we could see both his staircase and the exit from hall. After about half-an-hour Major Dennis Bloodnok, late of the Third Disgusting Fusiliers went to see whether Tom Booth was actually in hall. It turned out that he wasn't, so we went to the JCR to check it for the corrupt Peterhouse police. There was in fact a policeman there, although he was not corrupt. Louis Jagger informed us that he had been watching our lurk for over half-an-hour. This caused a minor panic since he had obviously informed Tom Booth, and so we tactically retreated from Peterhouse.

We then decided that three such successes in one night was quite enough, and tactically retreated to our respective homes.

CoP ]:D-/-<

Half Pint Posted reports:

It was a dark and stormy night. Nay! It was a treacherous, dark and stormy night! Upon which only the darkest and most treacherous deeds could be committed! Realising this, two brave, strapping, young men decided to play chess. After the younger, and better looking, of the two won outright, they sent out a proclamation to the land of ahhhh students! Sorry.. Got a little sidetracked... Where was I? Oh yes. They sent out a proclamation to all the land! It didst readest thus, "Hear ye me! Thus shalt thou hear a triumphant sound, for tomorrow we go to kill the mighty Booth!" So these two young (and strapping... mustn't forget the strapping) Men went to sleep! Dreaming a thousand dreams of dreaming. When the next day didst cometh it was a fine and pretty day. Pretty like a little innocent flower growing on the face of some bread. But alas! It was much to nice a day for such terrible deeds...squared! So the young adventurers went and played in the park instead. That evening a cabal of people didst join them via the unspoken concubines of time, through the nefarious portals of Jim. The adventurers were buoyant with success at finding a cabal to stand in front of them during the neo-hippiatic deeds that would follow. So to celebrate, and to concentrate their minds, they went to the newest of the old rooms of leisure. Fighting many battles upon the way, and slaying the dragon of Closet and Shrimp! When they got to this excellent place of Beauty they settled yonder, past the mystical television screen of doom and fought the battle that lasts a thousand ages. The battle of Robotianation. From there they went on a rally, early in the uncharted hours! Henceforth collapsing into sleep, dreaming of the destitute and cringing acts that would be bespoken upon the morrow. Then it came: too late! For the prey had already left for the hall of Emperor Peter. So the intrepid adventurers left with their companions to do more deeds of death! But then they got lost, and so the evening passed at an alarming rate, before they stalked the beast yet again...they stalked until they could stalk no more! Finally they went home. And the world was saved yet again. Goody.

Major Dennis Bloodnok, late of the Third Disgusting Fusiliers reports:


The Storyteller reports:

For the assassin is like unto a graveyard at night; his cold purpose the chill wind that silences hope, his long black coat the pall of darkness that hangs over the silent garden, hiding the etchings on the stones, the tales of sorrow and joy, the monuments of many lives and times that rose like waves from the eternal sea only to fall again amidst a clamour of fading spray and memory.

Who can see what trees of friendship once blossomed behind the rusting gates, spreading their flowers and seeds across grass and soil? Who remembers their tussles with antler branches when the winds of strife blew hard, how some fell in the storm whilst others calmed and stood together when the gales did lose their sting? And when one looks upon those that still stand, do they seem leafless and full of shadow when set against a backdrop of moon, stars and owls?

What of the fires that once burned within, the ardent flames of love that once lit the sky? Have they burned their last and left the world, their only earthly trace a trail of ash and the dying grass that once stood in their wake? Perhaps they burn still. The blackest of nights cannot hide a fire, however sinister it may make the flames seem.

Long grows the grass over the headstones, and many poppies rise up sorrowfully amongst the tombs. They tell tales of the sacrifices all have made on our journeys down life's winding roads, the deeds, misdeeds and heroic failures that make us what we are. And by night they are forgotten, for the traveller only sees his parents' platitudes, the ghosts of dirty needles, thugs and fear.

Yes, we may mourn for loss of sight, but there is some seed of good in all, and who can claim to have counted every last seed?

Sometimes graveyards are best avoided. Particularly where there is a risk of unrest or falling knifes.

Monday, 20 February

[12:10 ] Michael Wallace didn't get to make witty 4chan references at Alexey Pokrovskiy.
Michael Wallace reports:

j0 Umpy, 'sup?

... there's an incompetent Girtonite, shock...I got up at a ridiculously early hour this morning to go and lurk for him at about 12, didn't see him, but did see some other suspicious individuals, which was very exciting

also, despite rumours that the eeeevil wanted Tom Booth might show up to try and steal another kill from me, there was no sign of him...all signs point to ¬ (z0mg in-jokes! shall I stick in a 4chan reference to involve more people? how about no?)

could someone with a bike just go to bloody Girton please?

Michael "lol Raccoon MA" Wallace MA

[12:30 ] the beta monster looked for Ellen Turnbull and Hilda von Einem.
the beta monster reports:

omnomnom doubled

[13:00 ] Tom Booth killed The Security Services III (again).
Tom Booth reports:

I was in fact on my perpetual quest, searching for Talan, when I spotted a familiar beard weaving its way down the street towards me. We waved and passed each other; then I ran round a corner, changed clothes, checked to see if Talan was in the Downing Site (he wasn't) and ran all the way round the back to see Jake making his way back up the same road. Once he'd presented his back to me, it would have been impolite not to shoot him.

[13:40 ] An Agent of Posterity failed to deploy his potato against Tom Booth.
An Agent of Posterity reports:

The potato, when baked, is a most excellent form of nutrition, and well suited to the task of providing an agent with that most important mid-day intake of foodstuffs: lunch. Approaching the gates of Peterhouse, that notorious hotbed of political unrest and den of criminals, this agent's consumption of said potato ws rudely interrupted by the espial of Cambridge's Most Wanted, the dastardly criminal Tom Booth. Handing my potato to a civilian, who had joined me for lunch, I drew my service pistol, as Mr. Tom Booth brandished a similar firearm. The resulting firefight was inconclusive, and he retreated into his stronghold, leaving me once again without the satisfaction of his execution. I subsequently proceeded to finish off my potato.

This treatise on the potato has been recorded for posterity. All your penguins are belong to us.

[17:00 ] Tom Booth removed Philippa Cox (Hilda von Einem).
Tom Booth reports:

Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes? "Philippa?"

[18:00 ] Tom Booth was still looking for Ellen Turnbull.
Tom Booth reports:

Dear Ellen,

Please make more of an effort to be on time for your own execution in future. It's just rude not to. Best wishes, and may death come swiftly to your enemies (other than me).


Tuesday, 21 February

[10:45 ] David Smith looked for Ellen Turnbull.
David Smith reports:

I lurked, yet again, for Miss Ellen Turnbull today, from 10.25 to 10.45.

[13:00 ] Sarah Donnelly also wanted to meet Ellen Turnbull. Isn't she a lucky girl?

[13:20 ] Ellen Turnbull defused Tom Booth's 'special' letter.
Ellen Turnbull reports:

I just recieved a very amusing, but poisoned letter from Tom Booth. I was wearing gloves when I opened it.
Yours in quaking fear,

[22:20 ] The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge wanted to teach Ross Edmondson a lesson. Kinky.
The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge reports:

The rain.
The freezing, freezing rain.
Damn him.

I *LIKE* it.

Ross Edmondson reports:

For you, my door is open!

[22:35 ] Tom Booth finally devoured Ellen Turnbull (PoisonMelon).
PoisonMelon reports:

I am finally dead. Tom Booth shot me with a water pistol as I walked back to my room with a group of friends. I am most upset but probably deserved it for being such a lazy assassin.
Yours with a wonderfull lack of paranoia,

Tom Booth reports:

Only when you know that I've been involved in attempts to kill this woman since day 1 of the game will my satisfaction at finally having dispatched her become apparent.

Wednesday, 22 February

[13:20 ] Roboraptor made a lengthy lurk for Alexey Pokrovskiy.
Roboraptor reports:

A 1pm lurk of [placename removed] sadly revealed no sign of Alexey Pokrovskiy. My time cut short by gliding commitments, I shall return again to slay this rotter!

[18:30 ] Tom Booth didn't think Ross Edmondson was a very approachable person.
Tom Booth reports:

Dear Ross,

It has come to my attention that you are rather difficult to find outside your room. Might I suggest that you remedy this by walking everywhere very slowly, unarmed and having given me advance warning of your destination and proposed route. If a flashing neon sign saying "Ross Edmondson" could be permanently installed above your head this would also be most convenient, and stop nasty instances of misidentification when you're wearing a hat, scarf, etc.


Thursday, 23 February

[01:23 ] The Storyteller tired of The Rotherham Ripper II.

[10:00 ] Alexey Pokrovskiy (Plz_d0nt_Ki11_m3_I_Hav3_Fami1y Also AKA Jack Daniel) got taught The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge.
Plz_d0nt_Ki11_m3_I_Hav3_Fami1y Also reports:

Im Dead. Dead, dead dead.
The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge shot me outside lectures this morn. Thus ending my lengthly killing career.

[12:35 ] Simeon Bird is.
Simeon Bird reports:

Why would I be corrupt? Is it for getting my brother to knife Philip Bielby, being unaware of the immunity people on the same SWAT raid have from each other, for having a no-kill with Tom Booth, and indeed betraying the police on that last raid (their lateness and inconsiderate refusal to enter Tom Booth's staircase scuppered that), or for the innocent I just shot?

Yes, I shot an innocent. Mwaha. He looked a bit like Alexey Pokrovskiy, and was getting on a bike outside Sainsbury's. So I shot him. Time: 12:35, Thursday 23rd. He said his name was Tom something-or-other from Fitz, so he is probably guilty of something. Although not, of course, as guilty as I am.

Mwaha. Clones.

The Storyteller reports:

I am most upset. He was a friend.

(actually, he found being murdered by "a guy with a dodgy beard and hat" rather amusing. tee hee hee)

[17:40 ] Vera Lynn please said hello to Michael Leal (Bishop Colenso).
Bishop Colenso reports:

Today, around 05:30 pm, during an unforgivable lapse of paranoia, I was gunned down in temperate blood on King's Parade by Vera Lynn.

[17:45 ] Tom Booth ended his perpetual quest for Reginald Shoe.

[21:05 ] the beta monster wanted to meet Ross Edmondson.
the beta monster reports:


[22:00 ] Simeon Bird isn't any longer. ]:D-/-<
]:D-/-< reports:

"A duel you say? Excellent idea!"

Simeon Bird reports:

Sheila and her Death Circus.

[22:05 ] ]:D-/-< wished Uncle Alex Labram all the best.
]:D-/-< reports:

"Happy Birthday Corky!"

[22:15 ] ]:D-/-< was excited by Tom Booth's poisoned letter.
]:D-/-< reports:


Friday, 24 February

[04:52 ] Is this a Jagger I see before me? placed a bounty on himself.
Is this a Jagger I see before me? reports:

I would like to place a bounty upon Louis Jagger, to the value of four chewy Werther's Originals. I believe that this adequately reflects my worth to the game at present, a stinking great Wanted Inco police officer who'll believe almost anything you tell him. There is only a slight chance I will defend myself.

Thanks; it's been a pleasure playing,


[19:00 ] Tom Booth was in a strop because of The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge.
Tom Booth reports:

Hung around for a while hoping someone would show up and I could follow them in, but they didn't, so I came home in a strop.

[21:00 ] the beta monster spent a while looking for The Most Complicated Stopword In Cambridge.
the beta monster reports:

What's that in the trees?

[22:00 ] An Agent of Posterity was waiting for Tom Booth.
An Agent of Posterity reports:

We received an anonymous tip-off that Cambridge's Most Wanted intended to ambush members of the police force attending a society meeting in Queens' College. I took it upon myself, therefore, to watch the entrance to Queens' myself, in an attempt to catch this criminal once and for all. Once again, however, I was foiled in my objective by Tom Booth's continued absence. He wasn't there when I left, either.

Another counterlurk recorded for posterity. All your penguins are belong to us.

Saturday, 25 February

[13:30 ] Roboraptor waited for Tom Booth.
Roboraptor reports:

Heading into town after an unsuccessful morning at the airfield I decided to stop by Peterhouse, and see whether Mr Tom Booth would be departing his room for lunch. As it happened, he was not. Damn it.

[16:00 ] An Agent of Posterity confirmed receipt of Tom Booth's letter.
An Agent of Posterity reports:

The Posterity Office

The Department for the Promotion of Vice and the Prevention of Virtue,
C5 Old Court,
Peterhouse College,
University of Cambridge.

25 February 2006

Dear Mr. Booth,

Re. your letter of 22/02, I regret to inform you that we will not be participating in your programme of elimination. Furthermore, the glitter enclosed in your letter caused a hazardous spill on our desk, forcing all work to be halted until the toxins could be neutralised and the area declared safe. An invoice for cleaning services, callout charges, loss of productivity, etc. will follow.

Yours in posterity,

T. Bartram
Official Agent

All your penguins are belong to us.

Tom Booth reports:

To: Tim Bartram's Actual Address
The Posterity Office
47Q Churchill College

Dear Mr. Bartram,

Re: your letter of 25th February; we at the Department apologise profusely that the service you previously received from us was inadequate. Under normal circumstances we would send a Departmental operative to ensure satisfaction; however we are very busy at this time of year, and our premier field agents are presently incapacitated. As such you have been added to the waiting list, and are currently scheduled for elimination on the 18th June. Should this date change, there will be no prior notification.

The invoice has been returned unread. Under section (II) paragraph (3), subsection beta of the Departmental terms and conditions (which can be forwarded on request) the Department accepts no responsibility for items or persons damaged, destroyed or inconvenienced as a consequence of actions taken by our agents.

Finally, we would like it to be noted that Peterhouse is fully aware of its collegiate status and reminding it of such is considered patronising. The address is simply "Peterhouse, Cambridge"; the "College" suffix is both unnecessary and a waste of ink and paper. An invoice for the waste of ink and paper incurred by the Department in correcting your trivial error is enclosed.

Please direct further enquiries to our Head of Field Operations, Mr N Plummer, unless you wish to obtain a copy of the Departmental Terms and Conditions; in which case please direct requests to the Head of Tedious Paperwork, Mr E Heaney.

Yours sincerely,

Tom Booth
Departmental Supervisor

[16:00 ] Roboraptor ran away from Michael Wallace.
Roboraptor reports:

Leaving my room and heading down West Road, I saw a figure in a long black coat. As I got closer, I saw an assassins hoodie - subtle even at the worst of times. I stared at him a lot, and he stared at me a lot. I surmised this may be Michael Michael Wallace - he's changed since I last saw him! It could have been Sarah Donnelly I guess, but I doubt it.

Returning along the road, I received confirmation - he had been joined by a Mr Tom Booth. Ah. We eyed each other for a few moments, and then, with me TOTALLY unarmed and them sporting large guns, I turned around and departed. I circled around the area watching them, to see them joined by a third figure. It started to dawn on me that maybe the odds at this stage of the game have turned against me - 4 people left, 3 people hunting me together, and none of those 3 being me...

The only other incidence of note during the fairly protracted game of cat and mouse, in which I was unable to secure a weapon, was the failure of my bicycle chain as I was trying to get away from Michael Wallace. Thankfully I had enough speed to freewheel away and fix it, using my stunning engineering skills. Next time, I'll be armed...

Tom Booth reports:

After lunch, it was suggested that we should go and attack Roboraptor in the hope of finally polishing him off. I ventured home to collect weapons, and Sarah Donnelly did likewise. I made my way back to West Road, where I met up with Michael Wallace, and we sighted Roboraptor on a bike just before we arrived at the house. He turned and fled, pausing just around the corner.

We chased him around for a while, but since he was on a bike and our co-ordination wasn't fantastic, we failed to catch him. An attempt by me to cut him off by running through the UL carpark was sadly unsuccessful. Why wasn't he attacking us?

Revered Ornithologist reports:

I spotted the unusual and remarkable bird cowardus custardus facing off against the equally remarkable apteryx incompetentus. I attempted to run round through Selwyn and the Sidgwick Site to get a better look at the latter, but it fled down West Road before I could reach it.

Michael Wallace reports:

Hahaha oh wow.

(did I do that right?)

[18:25 ] Tom Booth spent the best part of 2 hours staking out Ross Edmondson.
Tom Booth reports:

(16:35) We got a call from Sarah Donnelly saying Ross Edmondson had just cycled past her on his way into town. She ran back to lurk outside his girlfriend's room in Blue Boar, and a few minutes later reported hearing a male voice inside. Michael Wallace and I headed over to confirm if it was indeed Ross Edmondson.

(16:50) We arrived in Rushda's staircase and listened at the door, making out what sounded like Ross Edmondson's voice. Michael Wallace and I decided that, knowing Ross Edmondson, if we were to knock on the door, he could very well come out fighting, and then I could Wildfire him from the other end of the corridor. Unfortunately only Rushda appeared, glancing around briefly then ducking back inside.

(18:25) For many lonely hours I waited at my vigil inside the staircase, while Sarah was outside with a CPS. Through sheer bad luck, in the two minutes that I was in the bathroom, Ross Edmondson left the room and strolled out of the staircase. Sarah Donnelly called me rather than shoot him, and by the time we realised that we'd missed him he was long gone.

[18:45 ] Tom Booth shot Roboraptor's girlfriend.

Rushda reports:

My darling Roboraptor
I just got 'shot' in hall
Someone...extremely frustrated...came up to me and said "I'll shoot you as some kind of compensation, we've been here for the last three hours and your boyfriend has still managed to escape us"

Roboraptor reports:

Ok, now, Mr Tom Booth, things are personal! Prepare to meet your doom!

Cambridge's Most Wanted reports:

Rushda emerged from the staircase, so we followed her at a discreet distance in the hope she would lead us to Roboraptor. Instead she went to hall, where Sarah Donnelly and I stopped for cheesecake. After eating there, I stabbed the corpse of Michael Conterio on general principle, and, after complaining about her boyfriend's ineptitude, shot Rushda out of frustration.

[19:50 ] Roboraptor killed Tom Booth (Cool Kids Can't Die. AKA Stormtrooper in Stilettos AKA Revered Ornithologist AKA Cambridge's Most Wanted AKA ).
Roboraptor reports:

A shotgun and a revolver in the back, in the dark, often do the trick. I did it for Rushda.

Tom Booth reports:

We arrived back at West Road, unsure if Roboraptor was inside, and set up a perimeter. We were then joined by the Umpire and the ghost of a Chief of Police, and it was at this point I realised I'd been chasing Roboraptor for nearly four hours, and something inside me snapped.

Stormtrooper in Stilettos reports:

Wildfire in hand, I smashed my way through the barricade at the front of the house, and demanded Roboraptor come out and face me like a man. Sensibly, given the Wildfire levelled at the door, he did not. I was joined by my compatriots, and realised that all the remaining assassins were here, within about fifteen feet of each other. It was in my power to end it all here.

I turned my fire on Raccoon and Sarah, then called Roboraptor out for a fight mano a mano. He failed to appear, or even reply; that didn't seem very like him. The sneaking suspicion crept over me that he might have climbed out of the window. For some stupid reason I left the Wildfire inside the house, and ran round to the back unarmed to check the window.

I negotiated the minefield in the drive, beat the dogs and managed to cheat his cold electronic eyes. I'd even made it past the shotguns in the hall; I was invincible. But he was no longer in, and told me so.


It's over. Praise the lord, it's finally over.

Tom out.

Michael Wallace reports:

wow, Roboraptor so amazing

(this *could* be sarcasm - WE JUST DON'T KNOW)

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