Cloak & Dagger The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News

Saturday, 15 October

[09:08 AM] What is a Llama doing in the Jungle? Apparently murdering Tarzan the merciless (Seb Dex)!

Llama reports:

I killed Seb Dex at 9:08 with a pen marked 'gun' in his corridor. [REDACTED- COLLEGE] 1, [REDACTED- COLLEGE] 0.

[10:55 AM] Lady Verne finds that directness is the best approach, killing Reg Reebok (Matthew Harris)

Reg Reebok reports:

This is just to confirm I'm far too friendly (unaware).

Lady Verne slew me, failed assassin with a pen marked knife, after reintroducing theirself at the end of [REDACTED] lectures, post-leaving the building of course just after 10:55. It really should ring alarm bells when someone asks "Are you Matthew Harris- [COLLEGE-REDACTED]?"

Might the police want some new deadbeats? I'd be happy to join.

[Absolutely- the Police force is always recruiting from the ever-increasing population of zombies around Cambridge... -The Gentleman]

Lady Verne reports:

Upon uncovering the name of her next target Lady Verne smiled maliciously. This was going to be easy. In fact, she had already met her target before. Not in person, no, but in the shadows of a seedy pub (also known as facebook) she had heard his name before, yes, even conversed. She knew Matthew Harris was in her course. So all she had to do was wait.

And wait she did. In her first lecture she sat at the edge of her seat, scanning the rows for the somewhat familiar, yet unfamiliar face she had only seen blurry pictures of. "Was that...?" She asked herself several times, even tried to follow one of the suspects after the lecture but lost him in the masses of people.

An hour later the same scenario. But this time she was certain. It must be him. However, they were still in the lecture theatre, an out of bounds area. So how could she follow him outside and get close enough to afflict a mortal wound without having him and others notice her? That's when an idea struck. He knew her name too, from the aforementioned virtual pub. So what better way to follow him than to just inconspicuously ask if he was the person she had met online? It worked like a charm. They immediately struck up a conversation and no one batted an eye as they walked out of the lecture together. While they were moving, Lady Verne slowly and carefully reached into the pocket of her dress, where her knife was hidden. With one smooth motion she pulled it out and stabbed her target in the heart. It all happened so quickly that bystanders only noticed when he was lying dead on the ground and she had already swiftly disappeared on her bike.

'Strike one' Lady Verne thought. My next target better be careful.

[11:03 AM] The Llama is on the hunt again, this time taking down Arno (Aimeric Malter)!

Llama reports:

I killed Aimeric Malter at 11:03 in his room with a pen labelled 'gun'.

[People who have read the weapons rules will note that objects marked "gun" should be at least vaguely gun-shaped. To prevent debates about whether a pen is or is not a valid form for a gun (stealth gun?), I should clarify that pen-guns are not valid weapons, unless the pen is modified to look like a gun. The same goes for any other object. However, as the weapon was correctly labelled, and these would otherwise have been perfectly valid kills, they stand- The Gentleman]

Arno reports:

On a nice day to sleep in, I was awakened by a voice at my door telling me I have forgotten something in the bathroom. Thinking the cleaner is acting weird (having woken up I did not realize it is saturday) I opened the door- to find myself in front of a warm smile and a "gun" pointed at me. "BANG" I heard and felt the pain of a bullet in my chest. In these last instants before my life left me completely, I could get a look at the charming killer of mine... And so I, Arno, left this world.

[11:10 AM] Cassie Kepler (Georgina Robertson) is chopped down by Caligula, as Kirin Jindosh watches...

Caligula reports:

Caligula smiled as his target sat behind him in the lecture and proceeded to join the conversation between some fellow assassins, confirming her identity. It was then a matter of patience. Initially, the target disappeared into the crowd however they emerged at the suspected location where the assassin was already waiting. Discreetly trailing his target for a short while, the assassin stepped forward and pieced his dagger into their unsuspecting back. The victim fell to the floor whilst Caligula slipped back into the crowd without a second glance, his work completed.

Kirin Jindosh reports:

Exiting the lecture theatre, it became clear that Georgina Robertson was the target of a dear friend. His cool head was altogether alarming and admirable as he skipped gracefully over the cobbles to plunge a suspiciously biro-shaped dagger into the target. Just like that, poor Georgina Robertson's life was over. [REDACTED LOCATION], I fear, shall see much more bloodshed in the coming weeks.

Cassie Kepler reports:

The crowd murmured as at the front of the theatre the blackboard grew smudged and smeared with schematics of the latest clockwork weaponry. Most remarked on the subject of the lecture, but a small group at the back had grown weary of the endless numbers. Talked turned to the use of such weaponry and Cassie Kepler's voice was heard disclaiming her intension of acquiring one of those beautiful new retractable knives for 'her own purposes'. It was that which gave the game away to the listener, and as everyone rose to leave he saw his chance and attacked. Once! Twice! The murder weapon withdrew back into its handle, leaving it looking like nothing more than a elegant fountain pen. The exchange was like lightning, and the killer withdrew before his face could be seen in the bright morning light.

[17:20 PM] Marcus Batavian, Master of the Temple (Jakob Gomolka) is mastered by Gachnar!

I just killed Jakob Gomolka in his room with a knife-pen. My cunning plan consisted of knocking on his door and then entering when invited. Now feeling kind of mean: guess that's an occupational hazard...

[19:20 PM] Walter Mildmay makes an error of judgement that may cause him Tears of Pain as he kills Ellen Palmer

Tears of Pain reports:

I've been killed, I think with a pen. I'm not sure who by.

Walter Mildmay reports:

By toilet outside [REDACTED LOCATION], Ellen Palmer was killed by me with a pen labelled KNIFE.

First attempted attack with a rubber band fired from hand, missed, and so ran up and stabbed. No mercy. Life isn't fair. Xx

[Umpire's note: during this kill, a photograph of Ellen Palmer was taken without her consent. This is not OK. Photographs should only be taken with the consent of the party. Since I have no reason to suspect that this action was malicious or intentionally in breach of the rules, and with the agreement of Ellen Palmer, Walter Mildmay has only gone Wanted, as opposed to being removed from the game. Everyone else is reminded of the need to follow the Code of Conduct at all times.]

[20:30 PM] This time Lady Verne goes for the stealthy approach to take down Reginald Phalanges (Nick Tekkis)

Lady Verne reports:

"Nick Tekkis? Yeah, I know him. He studies my subject." Those words rang like music in Lady Verne's ears. A very inconspicuous inquiry, solely asking a friend who "that guy he talked to" was lead to a very successful night.

After having a few drinks with friends, Lady Verne did not expect an evening of murder and mystery. However, upon exiting the bar, she spotted a man whose face she recognised. Confirming with her friend that this was in fact Nick Tekkis, she soon joined the conversation. Luckily she was in the habit of carrying a knife in her purse at all times. Therefore she could slyly move her position so that she stood next to her naive target, pull out her knife and stab him repeatedly in the heart. This elicited an immediate response of "but I had such a great plan for my next target" from the assassinated and laughter from her friend, who very much enjoyed watching the murder of his friend.

Later that day, three assassins (two of those killed by yours truly) joined Lady Verne in a night of drunken debauchery, so there are hopefully no hard feelings.

Reginald Phalanges reports:

The tale of Reginald the naive.

The walls of apprehension that he so strongly established crumbled the moment he laid eyes on the fair lady. Instantly falling under her charm, his fate was sealed. Paralysed by her spell, he watched as his demise circled around him, striking a slow, calculated strike to the heart. Twas only as he fell that he caught a glimpse of the spiders web into which he had so easily fallen.

[21:25 PM] Justice is swift and vengeful, as Walter Mildmay (Taketomo Isazawa) is dispatched by Shrike, ably assisted by dashing adventurer Thaddeus Valentine and a Songbird


I don't when when I can next contact you, so this might be the last you hear from me for a while - Magnus Crome, the
old fool, still believes I am working for him, but he is becoming increasingly suspicious of the other guilds, and I
suspect that the usual methods of communication are being monitored. If you need to contact me urgently, the cabal
should still have that capacity, though of course use only in extremis.

I obtained a report from Songbird, a man under the employ of one of my agents, that a certain Walter Mildmay had used a
'vidi orecoder' (an Old-Tech device, apparently) on an unwilling victim, and decided to deal with him as soon as I
could. With the help of some other allies, I tracked him down to the [REDACTED] neighbourhood, in the North of the
Cambridge district. Fearful of the power of apparent weapon, I joined forces with one of Crome's agents, and we
slipped through the high-walled confines of the suspect's organisation. We cut an unusual sight through the misty
streets; Shrike, a seven-foot tall imposing figure, with the tell-tale glowing eyes of a Stalker, and I,
Thaddeus Valentine, a dashing figure dressed in black, with a sword clinging to my back.

Wary that many things inimical to myself would merely annoy Shrike, he persuaded me to let him advance into the building
first, which he managed by 'convincing' the target's associates to allow us to pass - somehow the green eyes, metal
carapace and razor-sharp claws are persuasive in a way that my own devastatingly handsome features are not. Advancing
up the (wooden, (!) this man must have been of wealth hitherto unsuspected) staircase, I was ever watchful, knowing
that rumours of the Old-Tech device must have spread and that scavengers and other nefarious actors might also be
searching for the man at the same time as we were ourselves.

The place was a hive of activity, but we managed to make it to the door of this fellow relatively unscathed, but its
hard oak surface seemed impenetrable. We engaged in muted discussion, before it was agreed I, as of more innocent
appearance, would pose as a regular city inspector, wishing to count the number of different furniture items he
possessed. I knocked once, and laid out my 'reasons' for seeing the gentleman in question. A sinking feeling emerged
as he said 'just a second' (where have I heard that before...?) but before I could react, the door slammed open and
an oil-soaked lantern flew out, smashing against the back wall and wreathing my sword arm in flames. I staggered back,
in shock, as Shrike imperiously strode forward, knocking the heavy oaken door aside as if it were smoke (which, indeed,
it largely was at this point) and cornered the target behind his clothes drawer, where he had evidently hidden an old
flint-lock pistol.

I laboriously loaded, myself, such a weapon with my lesser hand, and darted in after him, taking aim at the defiant form
staring back at us. I had a sudden flashback to the woman I had once loved, Pandora Shaw; so similar had these situations
felt. But this man was no brilliant archaeologist of the Sixty-Minute War, no brave cartographer of the dead continent, no
naive sharer of dangerous knowledge. This man was merely a petty criminal, and his time was about to come to a close. He
made a sudden movement, throwing a vicious blade which embedded itself into the paneling opposite with a sickening crunch.
Both Shrike and myself fired simultaneously, my shot hitting the shoulder and the other impacting in the centre of his chest.
He fell to his knees, and crumpled. I would have been quite disappointed if such a petty villain had managed to put an end
to me, but one cannot get complacent - in previous years, as I am sure you are aware, I was severely injured by the associates
of those your predecessor bid me dispose of, when I assumed that with the main target indisposed, there would be no
others around who would wish me harm. A foolish indiscretion of youth, I see now, but I have learnt and hopefully
it will prove somewhat more difficult to put me out of action, at least for the next few weeks.

We searched in vain for my ammunition, which had lodged itself in some nook or cranny, and hastily put out the still
gently lapping flames from his explosive concoction. By this time, a small crowd had begun to gather around us - it
seemed that apparently our hopes of conducting a discreet investigation may have been dashed by the time the first
explosion rocked the rickety structure of the building. A shame. My comrade took the opportunity to continue the
interrogations which had proved fruitless with the man himself. They made the admission that they had been involved,
but without my former plenipotentiary powers I felt the random murder of civilians who posed us no threat was perhaps
an inappropriate response.

Aware as I acutely was that others might be hunting for the gentleman we had relieved of vitality, especially due
to an ill-advised missive from Songbird to a large group of possibly traitorous lesser agents who might be harbouring
ill-will to my very own person, we reformed into the defensive structure we had had before. I was well-protected by
both the physical bodies of my allies, and their weapons, of sufficient calibre to far out-match the relatively
meagre collection I happened to be carrying on my person when I received this particular mission. Perhaps something
to look into in the future, if my identity as an *agent of the city* (or indeed, forbid, that my own true loyalties
to your good person were revealed by some means of intercepting our rare communique), becomes public knowledge insofar
as it is common in the shadowy network underlying London that we inhabit.

I will proceed further on your instructions if and whenceforth you deign to make contact, and else assist the ambitions
of Crome in procuring and assembling the MEDUSA device. I hope your Lady-Friend fares well.

The Very Best of Wishes
Thaddeus Valentine
Sent from the office of Thaddeus Valentine, Guild of Historians. 16th October, 1006 T.E.

Walter Mildmay reports:

I was killed by the police at around 21:30 by nerf gun. They knocked on my door saying the JCR furniture reps were here to inspect the room and take photos of the furniture. I opened the door and realised they were assassins as they weren't there in front of the door and I could see a nerf gun peeking through the corner. I threw grenades in the general direction which hit one of their arms. I retreated to within my room but the door didn't close entirely so they could enter the room. I retreated to on top of my bed and threw three knives at them which missed. They then proceeded to shoot me with nerf guns which hit me on the body, killing me. :'(

Songbird reports:

"Songbird, Songbird, see him fly, drop the children from the sky. When the young ones misbehave, escorts children to their grave. Never back-talk, never lie, or he'll drop you from the sky!"
-A Columbia nursery rhyme

(Except we were on the [REDACTED] floor so not quite the sky but close enough)

An assassin went wanted and the Songbird (with a fair amount of help, namely Shrike and Thaddeus Valentine) descended to wreak hellish vengeance. In short order the prey was dead in my talons (or dead to Shrike's nerf bullet - again, close enough).
Fear the Songbird.

Shrike reports:

I was sat in my porter's lodge, innocently listening to unrelated silliness unfolding when I heard of the antics of Taketomo Isazawa, and being less than impressed, I decided he had to die immediately, and in as spectacular a way as possible, partly to see exactly what the newly reformed police system was capable of, but mainly to set an example to others who would dare cross us. The outcome was wildly more successful than even I had anticipated...

I turned to the police network for help dealing with him, and was very quickly greeted with a response far greater than I expected; Songbird, Kibbles, and Thaddeus Valentine were all immediately keen to join me on the ground for some trigger pulling, while Lyra Silvertongue confirmed his identity remotely. We were so quick in forming into a strike team, in fact, that we were ready and willing before the offender was even live on the Wanted list (one of the police network had heard rumours of what had happened, and knew that a hunt would follow), so we had to sit and stew on our planning for several minutes. After what seemed like an eon, we finally got the details.

By happy coincidence, Kibbles had easy access to the target area, and could grant us similar access. Songbird came to see me, and I armed him, gathering weapons for Kibbles too, who was already inside the target college but unarmed. On the way, it turned out that Kibbles had to leave, but could still get us in. Songbird and I tailgated some people who happened to be leaving through the door in question as soon as we got there. Soon after it shut, we realised we couldn't open it again, much to the dismay of Thaddeus Valentine, who turned up shortly afterwards. We waited on different sides of the door until Kibbles showed up, when he opened it. I armed him for next time, and he left. The 3 of us then walked the short distance to the target staircase, just missing a tailgate in. We stopped for a while to gather our thoughts, while I armed Thaddeus Valentine more substantially. I eventually resolved to buzz someone, and ask to be let in because I was desperate to use the bathroom. That story (the truth actually) wasn't necessary; I pressed the buzzers for rooms 1-4, and somebody immediately let me in without question. I suspect it was the several students in one of the ground floor rooms near the door who were loudly playing a large game of what I think was frustration, and were presumably expecting other guests. We were careful not to draw their attention, in case the target had prepared them enough to warn him (but not well enough to stop them letting in anyone off the street). I held the door for the others, and we travelled to the target's floor. Thaddeus Valentine took the lead, attempting to open the door. He found it locked, and retreated to the corner where the small entryway met the larger staircase, and telling the target that he was part of the JCR, and wanted to have a look at his furniture. The target wasn't fooled, but decided to open up anyway, presumably thinking that Thaddeus Valentine was on his own, and threw some kind of confetti grenade at him. The earlier taking cover had paid off however, and only an arm was lost. The target oddly retreated into his room rather than locking his door, which gave easily when I jumped on it, expecting to need to prop it open. The 3 of us sprayed bullets through the small gap in the door, the gun I lent Thaddeus Valentine promptly jamming where it hadn't been spun up and test fired in many months (sorry!); he discarded it upon the floor amongst the shrapnel (where it continued to whir ominously throughout the encounter), and instead drew his much smaller side arm. The target backed further into his room as we fired at him, getting on top of his bed and taking cover behind his wardrobe. I opened the door fully, and advanced into the centre of the room. The target threw a pen-knife at me, which seemed to bounce off the wall behind me. Thaddeus Valentine shot him in the arm from the mouth of the room, and I shot him in the chest. Thaddeus Valentine then laboriously reloaded his weapon, and shot the target in the torso again for good measure. There then followed short discussion as to why the grenade hadn't killed us, and I went to retrieve my gun, which had to be unjammed before I could finally deactivate it. Thaddeus Valentine searched for his ammunition (lost forever, sadly), while Songbird and I eyed the corridor suspiciously; we had made a lot of noise, attracted attention, and I was suspicious of the target, who'd played with his phone as soon as he went to clear up the grenade (though nobody came to kill us, so I might be doing him a disservice there). One of the neighbours who appeared had very clearly read the rules in fine detail, discussing with us whether we'd impersonated authority by mentioning the JCR, ultimately conceding that we hadn't. All of the target's neighbours seemed to know he was an assassin, and were interested to some level; the target's next door neighbour even asked if he could sign up as police (hopefully he will). I questioned Taketomo Isazawa on what had led to him becoming Wanted, ensuring the incident was smoothed over, and that there will be nothing of the sort happening again. We left before the whole building could descend upon us, Songbird and I protecting the now monodextrous Thaddeus Valentine. We negotiated the convoluted path out of the college (we had to use the main exit without Kibbles's help) without incident, and scattered to the four winds.

This should be a lesson to people; we mobilised lots of people in different parts of Cambridge, from different colleges, some of whom had never met before, all to have the target dead within 40 minutes of him going wanted.
We are numerous.
We are everywhere.
We are well armed.
We are organised.
We are experienced.
Fear us.

Shrike out.

(This report tops out at >1000 words, so I'm claiming cookies for it!) [Enjoy the cookies! -The Gentleman]

[22:00 PM] Lady Pierce and some bozo go looking for Barathrum (William Daniel Connolley), who winds up dead!

Lady Pierce reports:

The Gentleman,

Bulgur [Who? -TG] and I just killed William Daniel Connolley, whom I believe was a target for both of us.

Lady Pierce

Barathrum reports:

Dear Mr. Umpire,

I was killed by a party whose name I forgot to ask. He knocked on my door and upon my opening it proceeded to kill me via Bang with a gun cut from a pizza voucher.

oh well.

bozo reports:

I killed William Daniel Connolley at 21:30 with a pizza box shaped like a gun, and marked with the word 'gun', in his room.

Rook reports:

This happened a few days ago but at a pizza party at nine/ten/eleven/late ish, I overheard two assassins teaming up to murder one of their own in cruel, cold blood. Intrigued, naturally,I watched as they made guns out of pizza vouchers and shields out of more paper before one of them scribbled on their forehead in the student version of war paint and stalked off to find their hapless victim. I followed, curious, and also because it was my vouchers they were using. The target was pretty close, perhaps a hundred feet to the right and through several houses. I watched as they sneaked up the staircase with Fall Out Boy blaring; they had picked up another accomplice along the way eager to see hapless blood spilt. They knocked on the door, I watched from around the corner, target opened up and in a second of harsh gunfire and steel flashing, the two assassins had taken down their bewildered and almost dismayed victim. Then they went back, high and soaring on the elation of first blood. Finis.

I have no idea what any of their code names are, let alone if they are still alive.

[22:45 PM] Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] also attempts to enact justice on Walter Mildmay (Taketomo Isazawa), but finds only a corpse...

Failed attempt at approx. 22:45

Due to being in the vicinity, I attempted a hit on the Wanted felon, only to discover a bloodied corpse just outside the [REDACTED] staircase kitchens. The corpse then reanimated and told me, in a voice rather friendly for someone who was just brutally murdered, that the [REDACTED COLLEGE]]-centric police force teamed up and beat me to the kill. 1 coppers, 0 me. Shame considering I made the trip, but [REDACTED LOCATION] is rather beautiful even when liberally sprinkled with bits of intestine.

I suppose they could have been lying, but if they did, they won't last until the morning.

Sunday, 16 October

[11:15 AM] Baron Mann Herbington (Shyam Dhokia) is crushed under Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation]

Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] reports:

It was 11AM and the bells were ringing in the chapel. They ring the bells when someone dies, I mused. I remember being told that dead people have bells rung for them when I was a child, and being very confused that it would appear the number of people dying increased until midday, suddenly went down significantly, and continued to increase up through bedtime. I think my rationale for that was that people are cranky in the mornings and evenings. But I digress.

In any case, today's bell was going to be someone's death knell.

I packed my weapons into my entirely non-suspicious trench coat and set off on my way. [REDACTED COLLEGE] has beautiful scenery, but I couldn't stay around to enjoy the view; my research had told me my target was a [REDACTED EARLY MORNING SUBJECT], so presumably used to early mornings, and I couldn't risk him actually getting up before noon and blending into the sleepy Sunday Mainsbury's crowd. After the failed murder attempt yesterday, my bloodthirst had been steadily growing.

I crouched on the stairs outside the target's residence and knocked the door, attempting to look as innocent as one can look when they're gripping a small firearm in one pocket. The door opened and my heart leapt into my throat (not literally - if this ever literally happens to you, please seek medical assistance). It was, however, abundantly clear from a hasty comparison of Facebook profiles that this was not my target, but rather his roommate. Drat, I thought, or some less family-friendly expletive. If he has any clue what's going on, there's no way he's letting me in.

'Is your roommate in?' I asked pleasantly.

'Shyam? Yes, but he's sleeping -' he opened the door slightly more to reveal a magnificent sight; my half-asleep target in a bed within close range of the door. I took several confident strides into the room, drew my firearm from my pocket, then had a sudden surge of emotion - my pre-game feelings of 'conscience' and 'mercy' clawing themselves up from my chest. Can you really murder this sleepy, defenceless man? they asked me. In full view of his roommate?

(I murdered the sleepy, defenceless man in full view of his roommate.)

Elvis died on the toilet. Shyam died in his bed on a cloudy Sunday morning. Life is a funny thing.

He let out a quiet and resigned 'Noooo' as the blood soaked through his duvet. I turned to my surprised, inadvertent accomplice and said 'Lovely to meet you both,' before striding out of the door to seek my next target. I felt charged with power. The world is my oyster, lobster, or whatever other crustacean I choose it to be. And there are people to kill, and I shall kill them. And continue to not have roommates because it would be apparent that they're liabilities. Maybe I should get a robot roommate with eye-scanners and voice recognition.

In any case, it feels good to join the game! But always remember: no matter how you're just another cog in the wheel. [steampunk-themed Pink Floyd starts from distant stereo]

P.S. I think this has 500 words? :) [Yes, but alas I updated the bounty to be 1000 when I realised how much 1000 was :p You get two cookies for now -The Gentleman]

[13:00 PM] Ethelflaed of Kells kills Lord Arnold B. Ardlum Esq. (Tom Wordsworth), but then suffers near-death at the hands of Sergeant Huggles

[This event is a little confusing. I'll give the reports verbatim before sorting out the answer- TG]

Lord Arnold B. Ardlum Esq. reports:

I hear a knock on my door. This is not unexpected, as I know my girlfriend is on her way. I open my door. There is a girl standing there. She is not my girlfriend. She stabs me with a pen and I am dead.

My next-door neighbour overhears the ruckus and comes round and, upon spotting my dead body and the armed assassin standing over it, fires his elastic band gun first into her arm, and then into her torso. She is also dead.

Ethelflaed of Kells reports:

I killed Tom Wordsworth in his room with a knife marked pen in the last hour. After one of his housemates let me into the house I knocked on his door and inquired if he was indeed my target. He then tried to close the door as I made my way into his room where I stabbed him.

However, after this when I was still holding my knife his neighbour, Luke Kerby, shot me on the right arm. Then after I had put my knife away with my left arm he shot me on the torso. I am not sure if this means that I am also dead, can you clarify? Also, after reading the rules again, I'm not sure if my own kill counts, since I came in as he was trying to close the door?

Sergeant Huggles reports:

I heard a knock on my neighbour (Tom)'s door and thought it might be a knock on mine. I went and opened my door to see the other assassin rushing into Tom's room with some commotion. I knew it must be an assassin so went back into my room to fetch my elastic band gun, when I came back out of my room Tom opened his door and the assassin was standing there (still holding the pen she used to kill Tom).

I shot her in the arm with the elastic band gun, then there was a bit of a pause and I asked if that meant she was dead now. She then said that it hit her in the arm so was nonfatal (something I forgot about in the movement). I then immediately shot her again in the chest.

I am unsure if this constituted a grace/discussion period which I violated by shooting again?

[A few issues arise:
- There was a potential violation of the No Force rule (as the door being shut by Tom Wordsworth was 'forced' open by Ethelflaed of Kells). On further investigation it seems that there was enough space for Ethelflaed of Kells to get through, and to close it any more would have required force, and thus broken the No-Force Rule, so it seems to have been fine in effect.
- Concealing one's weapon during combat isn't on and will still make you a valid target. It's worth noting that concealing weapons before being fired upon/attacked makes you not a valid target, e.g. if you kill someone and their friend sees you, and goes to get their band gun, you're not a valid target if you've concealed your blade when they return. However, the benefit of the doubt will usually go to the assassin who draws last, in edge cases (so if this happens very quickly).
- Complicating the above clarification of the rules is the fact that a discussion phase was called in between the first (non-fatal) shot and the sheathing of the blade/second shot. However, I have no reason to believe that this was a deliberate use of the discussion phase to gain an advantage.
- There was definitely a breach of the discussion phase by Sergeant Huggles. Having said that, a discussion phase was not clearly declared here (it's generally useful to use the phrase 'discussion phase' so there's no confusion).
- Since it's not clear what the outcome would have been had the rules been followed more closely, the decision is that Tom Wordsworth remains dead, and Ethelflaed of Kells and Sergeant Huggles will have a duel shortly to decide the outcome. -The Gentleman]

[17:00 PM] Assassins prove no match for the Llama as Bennezio Auditore (da Cambridge) (Damaris Bennett) falls beneath its hooves

Llama reports:

I apologise for the lack of verbosity in previous reports - I had not been informed of the standard posting style. Regardless, I endeavour to remain direct: a chance encounter resulted in the shooting of Damaris Bennett with a newfangled banana-gun at approximately 17:00 this evening. [Glad to see you've upgraded your weaponry -TG]

Bennezio Auditore (da Cambridge) reports:

I'm afraid to say I let my guard down after a rather traumatic day. Having lost my phone somewhere along the backs at [REDACTED COLLEGE], I was walking back to my room (after an extensive search) feeling defeated and despondent. There in the courtyard, I encountered a friendly face, a fellow [REDACTED SUBJECT]. I smiled at her hopefully, concealing my inner turmoil at the tragic loss of my connection to the outside world when suddenly she brandished a banana and shot me straight in the face at point blank range. Unsurprisingly, this was a bit of a downer.
The look on my face was surely a mixture of shock, betrayal and absolute despair at the thought of, in a single day, forfeiting both my iPhone 5S and my life [Good priorities there -TG]. Hers, on the other hand, was sheer glee; like a child at Christmas that had just shot someone in the face.
[REDACTED] lectures will never be the same again knowing that I am dead and my killer lurks nearby, no doubt plotting more dastardly schemes. Regardless, I would like the opportunity to congratulate my fellow assassin.

[18:00 PM] The Knife attempts to cut Steamed Broccoli, but can't quite do it- maybe more time in the steamer?

The Knife reports:

The Knife found her in her room. She was ill, she said, but not unprepared. A single shot was fired, but The Knife was faster. Tonight, The Knife found her thigh. Tomorrow, it will find her heart.

Steamed Broccoli reports:

Once upon a thyme there was a saged dandelion lying dill on a flowerbed. Suddenly one pesticide and an accomplice pesticide fenneled in and started an attack. The dandelion fired a gun but mist as the pesticide tried to stab. He got a bit carraway in the stabbing process and lost the chive as the dandelion reloaded. Due to the unclear circumstances we parsleyed and called it a stalemate and then they tarragone.

[18:40 PM] The Knife gets lost...

The Knife reports:

The Knife went hunting. The Knife got lost. The Knife withdrew. The Knife will return.

[19:35 PM] The Furnace Blaster melts Screwjank (Henry Hole) with a single blast!

Screwjank reports:

I was killed by The Furnace Blaster with a pen marked knife in [REDACTED LOCATION] at 19:35 after chapel.

It was dark and one could still hear the notes of the organ voluntary ringing out across the court. I was walking with an innocent, unaware of the tragedy about to befall me. I feel a sudden pressure against my chest. Outraged at the discourtesy A turn to accost the stranger when I see, Alas but a fellow assassin brandishing a pen marked knife. Devastated, I am undone in such an inglorious fashion.

Never again shall I be caught so unawares. Watch yourself sir, for there will come a time when I shall have my revenge.

The Furnace Blaster reports:

Dear Gentleman,

If I may, I would very much like to report the demise of a fellow assassin through my blade.

This fine Sunday evening I was about to enjoy Evensong at [REDACTED] chapel, when my eyes, tired of the paranoia of invisible pursuers, identified Henry Hole (To my regret I must admit that his secret identity, although uttered to me at later time, escaped my memory), whose visage was known to me through this invisible net of ether before [REDACTED]. Immediately, I sensed this golden opportunity and after service lurked for my unwary victim in the shadows of the night. My knife-labelled pen with a Rothschild coat of arms (Let it be noted, at this point, that a great many companies give out a multitude of useful, pretty even, goods for small money at the annual market held for newcomers to this fine town) pierced the unfortunate's chest right through his heart, his gaze directed at me in surprise. Quickly, I confessed my alias to reveal the cause of his misery, before I made ground from the terrible scene of the incident. May Henry rest in peace.


The Furnace Blaster

[20:30 PM] A corps of assassins goes hunting, as Marcus Kenway takes down Hugh Manatee (Mathew Best)

Marcus Kenway reports:

Only illuminated by the light of the full moon, the four assassins made their way into the depths of [REDACTED COLLEGE].

Cornelius Grey, Countess Wells, Fr. Filigree conDoin and Marcus Kenway quickly infiltrated the building and performed a quick swipe.

While Fr. Filigree conDoin and Countess Wells were guarding the entrance, Cornelius Grey and Marcus Kenway found the target's bedroom.

Despite the loud music, the room was empty, a distraction from the actual position of the target which was in the kitchen.

The two assassins made their way downstairs and identified the target quickly due to extensive research (i.e. we asked for Mathew Best).

Mathew Best did not even see the swift movement of Marcus Kenway coming before feeling a throbbing pain in his chest, pierced perfectly by a sharp knife.

Without being seen, the assassins made their way outside and became one with the shadows.

Cornelius Grey reports:

"Alright, what the hell?"

This was really starting to irritate Cornelius. Yes, it was obvious that this little battle royal being hosted in Cambridge city was easiest to win with a few allies... but damn it all, things weren't supposed to be like this.

See, he'd been totally unprepared when he'd stumbled into this mess. Assassin? Him? The idea was almost preposterous. He was a tinkerer, an inventor by trade... how in the world had he managed to get caught up in the world of assassins?

It was probably somebody else's fault... it couldn't be his fault could it? He'd really mucked up his life, yes, but had he really mucked it up that much?

Come to think of it, yes, yes he had.

This was literally all he had left. A bunch of innovations that only earned him scorn from the local scientists had been his life work. Now he was out to prove that they actually worked.

So, he'd weaponised his innovations and moved to Cambridge in an attempt to redeem his name.

This wasn't quite what he'd imagined.

His first target was too secure... as was the second they went after.

Four people, three of whom were competant assassins and none of them could find a decent way to infiltrate the lair of their targets.

He didn't even have his weapons with him yet. For heaven's sake, he shouldn't have been here.

But the other assassins wanted to go after a target, and he needed the allies.

And then they'd all decided that he should be the one to ascertain the identity of their target...


So, there they were, four assassins, a priest, a noble woman and then himself and Kenway.

"What's wrong? You've done this before, right?"

It was the countess... Wells if he remembered correctly.

Cornelius simply grunted, neither confirming nor denying the fact. Damn it, he was going to die here, wasn't he? He was going to...

No, he was damn well going to find a way out of this. He was going to live through this and make himself a new life later.

The four stood at the foot of a stairway where they had been told their target resided as half of a plan began to form itself in the inventor's mind.

"Hold my shoes."
"Just do it."

Grey took off his footwear and handed them to the countess, then began to walk upwards.

Mathew Best

That was the name of the man he was after.

15... that was the room number. All he had to do was knock, get the fool to open the door, then get out of the way. Mathew lived in rented accomodation with many other people around him... Cornelius had a plan.

This was going to get him killed!

No, no, he was going to survive... he had nothing to lose anymore, and that made him dangerous, more dangerous than the man on the other side of that door. Motioning to Kenway to hide to the side, the inventor rapped his knuckles on the door.

One of the men this 'Mathew' shared accomodation with was playing a guitar in a nearby room, but otherwise, there was utter silence.

Again, he tried knocking.

"Excuse me... I've got a problem, see, I've locked myself out of my accomodation and I... I don't have any shoes, can you help me please?" [I see the 'Do you have my fish?' award entries are coming in early... -TG]

Mathew had moved here for the battle... the chances were that he didn't know all of those he shared accomodation with yet.

Still, silence.

Ok, so that meant he wasn't in, right?

Cornelius dropped to the floor and looked under the door.

The light was on.

Why would the light be on? Had he just been careless and left without turning it off? Or... was he still around?

"Alright, so he's not in or he's not opening up."

Kenway spoke in whispers.

"So we go downstairs and ask if they know where he is."

What?! No, he was just about to survive this... he could just walk away now and...

Ok, ok... he could do this.

They'd passed some people downstairs... but any one of them could be an assassin. Damn, where had Wells and the Priest got to?

He needed to know which of them was Mathew...

"Hey, do you guys know Mathew Best? I'm in a supervision with him and I-"

"Matt, a guy's looking for you."

Oh damn... if that wasn't a give away, Cornelius didn't know what was... why was Kenway just standing there? Cornelius' eyes went to the man who he assumed to be 'Matt', fixing on his hands... if he drew a weapon, then Grey would be the one he'd go for... and Grey couldn't kill him according to the rules of the battle... why was Kenway just-

"Are you Mathew?"

What the hell? Just stab him! That was all that he had to do... why was he just.

The guy slowly nodded.

That was when Kenway made his move.

Cornelius didn't even see him draw his knife, one moment his hand was empty, the next, he was lunging forward towards Mathew's chest.

There was a brief moment of silence and then.

"What just happened?"

His friends were clearly in a state of shock... so that meant they weren't assassins.

"He's err... he's wanted for murder..." Cornelius flashed his inventor's license in their direction, not giving them time to actually see it. "We're with the police, excuse us."

Grey only just noticed as he stepped out that he was still barefoot. His mind was still reeling from what had just happened. It was only when he crushed a snail underfoot that he remembered... right, the countess had his shoes.

Cursing, Grey took his shoes back from the countess and put them back on.

"Where did you two even go?"

"They were guarding the exit, like they were meant to." Kenway gave Grey an odd look. "Weren't you paying any attention at all?"

Grey wriggled his toes uncomfortably, trying to get rid of the snail slime covering his socks.

"Err, yes, of course. Sorry."

He'd survived.

[20:40 PM] Baron Aliquam II attempts on the acronymous ISTW- no-one dies

ISTW reports:

Dear Umpire,

Subject: Failed attempt on life of ISTW at [REDACTED LOCATION] at approx 20:50

My door was knocked on, so I opened it like a lemon, A group of 2-3 people asked my name, when hearing that I was [REDACTED], they shot a rubber band at my door and missed. I responded with the word: "missed" and then closed the door. As I was lounging in my PJs, I did not pursue the attackers.

Many thanks.


Baron Aliquam II reports:

Hunting down targets in these smoggy streets is difficult, especially when one needs to coordinate one's allies to effect a quick getaway afterwards. After hours of searching, Baron Aliquam II came upon the home of his bounty, atop a lofty staircase. A rapid knock from the metallic fist of his accomplice earned a muted response from the inhabitant, who reluctantly opened the door.

Grimly, the Baron prepared his weapon, another accomplice behind him holding the door to escape. But alas, the weapon misfired. A chunk was gouged out of the rickety door frame in place of his target! The target was, of course quick to retreat into the safety of his stronghold and, to evade any imminent return fire, the Baron retreated in disappointment.

Monday, 17 October

[09:50 AM] bozo (Nikhil Dharam Mohindra) thought he had a story of his own, but it turns out he's Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation]

Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] reports:

After waking up this morning with some bloodthirst on my mind
I conducted major research into my unwitting prey;
What he looked like and his college, and his room of residence,
And worked out his likely course of action for the current day.
Luckily I happened to be passing by a certain place
Where I'd located his lectures, in the Faculty of [REDACTED],
And I strolled about the building to scope out a course of action.
Ideally, I'd shank Nikhil before his friends reacted
To seeing a strange person following him with three knives
And a gun poking fluorescent orange from under their coat.
One lecture was in three hours, as the board kindly informed me,
So I resolved to come back then, and was jotting down a note
Of the time and place, when lo and behold! walking through the door
Was my target, metres away, chatting idly to his mates
(I'm still quite surprised when people manage to get up by noon).
I wasn't sure how to handle intervention from the Fates
But I knew I had to carpe diem - and carpe it soon
Before the lecture started. So I walked up to the target
As they sat down, and I shot him from point-blank range in the chest.
Cog is ready. Cog is waiting. Cog will know to keep an eye out.
Fortune favours the diligent, and weapons do the rest.

[09:57 AM] Lord Eigenvector vectors in on The Secondant (Valentin Hubner)

The Secondant reports:

I was killed in front of the entrance to [REDACTED] Lecture Theatre at 9:57 today (17/10) with a highlighter pen.

Lord Eigenvector reports:

Dear Umpire,

Today I tasted blood for the first time when I murdered Valentin Hubner outside a lecture theatre. I knew from my target file [Valentin chose to give his timetable in place of his address- TG] that he would be having a lecture immediately after mine in the same place, and given that lecture theatres are a sacred safe space, I made sure to get out quickly so I could catch my target unawares, leaping over a row of benches in the process.

I then stood outside the theatre awaiting my target. When I saw him approach, I snuck up from behind and called his name. As he turned round to see who it was, I stared him in the eyes as I plunged my knife into his side, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I watched the life drain from his eyes.

I eagerly await more targets to kill.

Yours Truly,
Lord Eigenvector.

[19:50 PM] When someone says Ivor Gun, not even a White Ninja (Joshua Snyder) can escape...

White Ninja reports:

I was killed today by Ivor Gun and thus I believe I am dead even though I was not his target.

[As described in the next report, White Ninja had previously attempted to kill Ivor Gun, but failed due to being in an OOB zone (and incidentally failed to report it. Please report all assassins-related events to me: I really do need to know.) Ivor Gun then hunted down his would-be assassin for a perfectly licit kill -TG]

Ivor Gun reports:

The life of an assassin is one fraught with all manner of dangers, from both inside and out. The skilled thrust of a blade never far away. And so it was late one evening. Through the fuliginous gloom, a master assassin glided, one with the sighing gloom. And so he swept, ever closer to me, the hawk seeking the pigeon, a leviathan in the presence of sparrows, or so it appeared to him. I, ever vigilant against all manner of foes, was none the less defenseless against the cruel blade of one of my closest allies, a traitor, whom darkness had consumed, and in whom the fiery pit of treachery was burning. And thus my swift life would have ended, were the gods not smiling down on me that day, and the arm of Zeus outstretched in my defense. The traitor struck, once, twice, but it in vain. For I had seen the approaching menace with his weapon of death approaching in the dancing reflection of a burnished brass candle stick, and with skill and agility like the druids of old, I avoided his flailing knife. And then the cowardly traitor fled, to live another day, back to the hole whence he came. But the damage was done, I knew my target, and there was no place on this earth where he could hide, no mortal who could protect him from my wrath, no skill adept enough to conceal him from the coming day of judgement, when my anger would finally be satiated.

And so the long process of seeking out the traitor's layer began [One would think that he would be on the Earth layer? As opposed to, say, Heaven or Hell -TG], and I spent my days ever on the prowl, a wandering pilgrim, far from home, seeking out the justice he knew he must deal. I sought the four corners of the earth, and traveled over vast seas seeking out my once mighty foe, laid low by greed. And thus it came to pass, that when the opportunity finally presented itself, I was ready for a swift attack.

The traitor was having a feast of debauchery in a room high up in a castle, the walls all but impregnable even to one of my supreme skill. And thus it was that skill in the art of deception proved its value yet again. I retired to plot the path I knew I must take. Having left nothing to chance I feigned surprise and supreme angst at his being some 20 yards in front of me. Then, with many foulsome taunts, he defiled the name of all that is good and laid plain his apparent overmastery of me. Then, with thespian skill rarely seen on stage, I fled, leaving him to pursue, secure in his knowledge of the sword. Alas for him, he was that day deceived, and as he rounded a corner, my serated blade was plunged into his black heart. His lifeblood streamed from his once-noble body and his spirit left his limp body, never to be seen again on this earth.

Let this be a warning to all who would abandon the high path of an assassin, and defile the honourable name. No more will it be suffered. The time of judgment is nigh...

[21:50 PM] The Wondering Wanderer goes a-wandering...

The Wondering Wanderer reports:

As I wandered around the town, I realised I was passing near my target's residence. I gained entry to the building with patience and cunning, before wandering up and waiting near their door.

Two hours later, I concluded that my target had probably been safely in their room (and possibly asleep) by the time I arrived, so I wandered back home, wondering what had happened to my own planned early night.

Tuesday, 18 October

[10:58 AM] Sergeant Huggles (Luke Kirby) decides that duelling really isn't his thing.

Sergeant Huggles reports:

Dear Ethelflaed of Kells and the Gentleman,

I'm afraid due to a fairly hectic schedule this week I must forfeit the duel and pronounce myself dead, having thrown myself from a cliff in a fit of madness grieving for my assassin accomplice Tom.

(Given that suicides aren't actually allowed consider this a standard resignation.)

Best of Luck in the rest of the game, Ethelflaed of Kells.


[This means that our dispute earlier this week is resolved and Ethelflaed of Kells survives! Damn it, no duel for me... -TG]

[12:05 PM] The Iron Giant lumbers into action, slaying Lord Hugo Lovelace III (Joshua Garfinkel)

The Iron Giant reports:

Iron Man Reports

[The Iron Giant does not seem to be one for words and I received this image from him. Not sure whether he grasps the meaning of the phrase 'not a gun'. -TG]

[17:30 PM] The Parlett Scimpernell (Emil Evans) attempts on Kirin Jindosh with an elaborate plan, but alas it all goes horribly wrong...

Kirin Jindosh reports:

After enduring a very long practical, Kirin Jindosh returned to his room to engage in internet chess as opposed to lots of example sheets. His door was wide open. Why? Kirin Jindosh confesses that the paranoia had got to him. He was ready to welcome death with open arms. Or at least he thought this was the case.
After a particularly rowdy chess game which involved verbal abuse in the chat from his opponent, a shadow fell across Kirin's door. He looked up as a baby-faced young man entered and said "Hi (Kirin Jindosh)? I just received a letter in my pidge meant for you- here you go".
Kirin had been on full alert, with his band poised and ready, but on hearing this innocent explanation, he relaxed his weapon and apologised: "Sorry, I thought you were my assassin! Thanks for bringing this up here?"
The visiting assassin at this point stood still as if considering his reply before saying: "I am sorry (Kirin Jindosh)," as he reached into his coat. Before he could strike, Kirin Jindosh shot him with an elastic band to the heart and that, as they say, was that.

After the bloodshed, the visiting (and now deceased) assassin announced that he had thought the rules meant he could not deny that he was an assassin. This is, of course, false. [Yep- they just say that you cannot claim to be a dead assassin, and thus harmless -TG] But even so if this had been the case, Kirin Jindosh had not actually asked the question so unfortunately the would-be assassin's logic was flawed and it ultimately led to his death.

The plan had been to deliver the letter, addressed to Kirin Jindosh from his hometown (the town hall in fact?) before retreating around the corner into the corridor. After opening the letter, Kirin Jindosh was to be so perplexed by the message he would walk out into the corridor. By now, the visiting assassin hoped to have adorned his gloves, winter cap and shades (a bizarre yet menacing fashion statement) before delivering a fatal nerf to the chest. The letter was even stamped first class and inside was a card of a cat with the caption "Sorry you are leaving....". Inside, the assassin had added ".... this world. Not sorry to see you go."

The assassin remarked he had cycled over from a far away college just for this kill and was clearly bitterly disappointed. He had, through a mutual friend, done in-depth reconnaissance on Kirin Jindosh's book of face account and had even looked up the college meal times in order to find a time when Kirin Jindosh was highly likely to be within his room.

It is with a heavy heart that Kirin Jindosh concludes this rapidly written report. He hopes to see this assassin again. Note: this assassin was so well equipped, he owned a loyalty card to the local toy shop.

Kirin Jindosh

Wednesday, 19 October

[13:00 PM] The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head attempts to resolve his headache, fails to do so

The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head reports:

It's time to get back in the game again. I discovered my targets timetable fairly swiftly and looked forward to making the first kill of the season. I lurked outside [REDACTED] with the aim of shooting [REDACTED]. After a reasonable delay - I saw someone who looked very like [REDACTED]. I decided to confirm his identity before shooting (been on the Wanted List once and have no desire to return) [Very sensible, the Police are hungry for blood -TG].

"No, [REDACTED] is the other one. I'm [REDACTED]."
"Oh, sorry to trouble you."

Judging from the lack of bullets flying after me following this exchange, I'm going to believe this was genuine (otherwise I just made a startling display of incompetence). In fairness - I wouldn't have said no to a shootout, having not had a decent one since last Michaelmas.

But watch out [REDACTED], in the words of a great man "I'll be back..."

[13:10 PM] The Iron Giant stomps another, this time taking out Sir Lucius Irritatus (Laurence Mayther)

The Iron Giant reports:

Iron Man Reports

[The Iron Giant has now abandoned speech entirely in his reports, but has apparently not abandoned his usage of guns -TG]

Sir Lucius Irritatus reports:

Alas, all good things must come to an end and as such my time as an assassin has drawn to a close. Due to a decided lack of attempts on my on my life I had begun to forget my own mortality and become somewhat careless. Thus as I returned from my lectures, I did not think to check for unfamiliar figures lurking about in the shadows at the base of my staircase. I merrily began making my way to my room when I heard a footstep behind my and as I looked, I saw, to my horror, there was an assassin but yards behind me pointing a gun at my chest. Just as I thought my life was over, by some lucky turn of fate, his gun failed to discharge and I was granted a second lease of life. I ran to the nearest point of cover as fast as possible (which happened to be the lavatory), drew my pistol and then engaged in a long and arduous shoot out with my assassin. Just as I became sure that it was a stale mate that was sure to continue indefinitely, I felt it! A sudden pain had befallen my dominant arm. All of a sudden my hopes of survival died and I was convinced that I would follow them. But in spite of this, I took one last shot at my assassin and then hastily commenced reloading my piece with my remaining arm, but it was too late - my assassin charged at me and before I could stop it, a single shot rang out as I looked my assassin in the face and finally I knew that it was all over and that my life had been taken by the better man.

[15:55 PM] Ethelflaed of Kells gets back into the swing of it after a few days in limbo, killing Lady Fidelis (Isabelle Read)!

Ethelflaed of Kells reports:

Dear Gentleman,

I killed Isabelle Read at 15:55 just outside her lecture room in the lecture block, with a pen marked knife.

After receiving the name of my target I utilised the assassin's most useful tool - Facebook. Having ascertained my potential victim's appearance from photos, and that she was friends with my next door neighbour (my accomplice), I put my scheme into action. Having made enquiries from said accomplice I found myself standing outside her lecture and able to viciously stab her with my knife. I then disappeared into the mists in order to attend my own lecture ...

Ethelflaed of Kells

[16:10 PM] Punisher (Michael Samuelson-Beulah) fails to T-O-E the line and dies for his temerity

T-O-E reports:

Michael's human dissection class was not until tomorrow, so he thought he could, for at least one short day, distract himself from the inevitability of his own death. As my bullet pierced his weak, transient, mortal flesh, this fleeting hope died with him.

[16:50 PM] Mikasa, Edle von N and Baron Aliquam II team up for the hunt, but it seems nobody's home...

Baron Aliquam II reports:

"The enemy of my enemy..."

Another smog-filled day, another hunt. Just like any other day for the Baron, although his hunts were not always of the more fatal variety. His empty title didn't pay bills, but working as a tax-collector he just about got by; assassination was if anything a natural extension of his line of work. As usual, he had arranged for back up in his operation. Much as he felt himself capable of out-gunning most opponents (despite the blow to his ego on his last attempt to do just that) he preferred to have numbers on his side. At the appointed hour, he passed into the shadows beneath the imposing steel statue of one of his distant relatives, and came out of the shade with Mikasa, Edle von N at his side.

They had met for a common cause: each of them had been instructed to dispose of (amongst other things) Pierre. Alas, they were to be disappointed. The outwardly run down former barn which he lived in had unexpectedly tight security, a double bolt across every entrance. Short of relying on his naivety to help them achieve their goals, they withdrew, determined to determine in more detail his daily whereabouts before returning.

It was at this point that the Baron realised his opportunity: today could be the day he would make up for his embarrassing failure against ISTW! The pair struck a deal, each with a target in mind.

As soon as they arrived atop the familiar rickety staircase which housed ISTW, the Baron knew something wasn't right. The dust had settled thick on the wooden floor since his last visit, and beyond the rising hullabaloo from the tavern on the ground floor, nothing was stirring. The pair hesitated at the door. Aliquam knocked firmly; the sound echoed hollowly, the large dent in the door-frame allowing it to escape from within.

The Baron was perplexed. His sources should have told him if his target had moved away, but knowing that his life was at risk, it might be that he had indeed fled. Mikasa, Edle von N waited patiently while he scrawled a note onto the doorframe with a stick of charcoal from his breast pocket.

Their final task was to investigate one of Mikasa, Edle von N's own targets, whose name the Baron quickly forgot but whose portrait awakened a distant memory. Could it be..? No surely not, the bounty for Spring-heeled Jack been claimed months ago, maybe even years.

After some twists and turns in some less savoury back-alleys, they reached a large gated square, guarded by soldiers. The Baron was alarmed: he didn't want to have to identify himself so close to the location of his most recent target! Mikasa, Edle von N explained that the guards were changed in 4-hour shifts, but that based on the red plate of the guards' armour that they must have missed the most recent change.

Having failed on three fronts, they agreed to call an end to the hunt for that day. With few more words, they parted ways on the spot. Baron Aliquam II sneaked, then walked, then trudged home. He could only hope that his luck would soon change.

Mikasa, Edle von N reports:

Dear Gentleman,

After a long few days of regal duties and perpetual paranoia I received an invitation from a fellow assassin to accompany him in his murderous pursuits. Longing for fresh air and my first opportunity to witness bloodshed, I agreed, and we proceeded to meet within the hour, to find our mutual target. Innocently wandering into [REDACTED COLLEGE], we were alas foiled by the doors which required a mysterious magical "keycard" to gain access to our target's room.

Being the agreeable lady that I am, I decided to further accompany my friend in seeking out his next potential victim. Gaining access was easy, and with stealthy footsteps we snuck up the staircase, where I watched my friend knock on the door and await a response, weapon at the ready. Unfortunately fate was against us, and there came no such response, so a note was left informing the target of his lucky escape and we left the building, unsuccessful.

Our final excursion of the evening was a visit to King's College, where I hoped to catch a glimpse of my target, so that I may begin to better plan the murder. Unfortunately our party's lack of a magical keycard once more hindered our efforts, so we decided to part ways once more after a brief discussion of the pros and cons of dressing as cute fluffy animals. [There are cons? -TG]

With my workload lighter and my intentions darker, I intend to lie in wait no more!

-Mikasa, Edle von N

[17:00 PM] The art of the Alchemist apparently extends to making Lady Verne (Elisabeth Gaberdiel) disappear...

Alchemist reports:

Rumour has it that the knife is able to create a wormhole while being brandished, transporting anyone being stabbed by it to Alpha Centauri. Lady Verne's death verified that myth, as her lifeless body vanished with a bright flash, leaving a torched circular region (about 1 meter in diameter) behind. Under the protection of a force field generated by the knife, the assassin remained unscathed and left the scene undiscovered.

Lady Verne reports:

After several successful assassinations in the beginning of my career, I believed I deserved a rest. Fatal mistake! In this profession one must always be paranoid. Heed my words oh reckless youth: Thou shall never sleep, never rest and always be in on the lookout. Otherwise one [REDACTED TRUSTED INDIVIDUAL] might stab you with a knife that may or may not rip open time and space and create a black hole that shatters your body and mind into pieces smaller than quarks.

[17:40 PM] The cactus (Sacha Hopkins-Powell) cannot hurt Caligula

Caligula reports:

A knock on the door granted a cheerful reply, which opened without hesitation. At this point Caligula withdrew a revolver and shot his target before striding briskly away, the task complete.

Kirin Jindosh reports:

Kirin and Caligula had time to spare before dinner and so decided to team up to assassinate The cactus in her college. The plan to gain access was to pretend to be reporters from the Tab with a freshers accomodation satisfaction survey. Alas, no deception was necessary- the victim was audibly on the phone as we approached silently. After knocking on her door, Caligula stepped back, waited for the opening and shot the victim. Another one down.

[18:50 PM] Tamanta enlists help to look for Septima Quintiliana, Mistress of Machinery, but the help proves unhelpful

Tamanta reports:

I had acquired an accomplice to help me kill Septima Quintiliana, Mistress of Machinery, who is a friend of his. Unfortunately, as I made my way to [REDACTED COLLEGE], said accomplice developed a conscience and decided to back out of the kill. He was gracious enough to tell me before I turned up to the college so we parted amicably.


[22:05 PM] Axis Cogs (David Agoston Farkas) attempts to grind down The Furnace Blaster, picks his moment poorly, goes Wanted!

Axis Cogs reports

Tonight at 22:05 I stabbed The Furnace Blaster in the hearth. I found out from abother resident of [REDACTED HOUSE] that he regularly attends [a] Society meeting in [REDACTED COLLEGE], thus I had my appointment. I waited until after the meeting concluded, and then calmly walked up to him, confirmed his identity and made my succesfull attempt.

[Unfortunately, Axis Cogs (David Agoston Farkas) was incorrect about the meeting being over: as The Furnace Blaster happens to be a member of the society committee, he was obligated to stay to the end to help clear up. Thus, despite David Agoston Farkas's careful checking of the OOB rules before his attempt, The Furnace Blaster has survived and David Agoston Farkas will go Wanted! The moral of the story is to wait until the meeting has definitely finished as far as is customary before attempting murder -TG]

The Furnace Blaster reports:

I am very much regretting spending this long a while to write a report of today's incident, but I must digress. My fingers are still trembling, my body weak from the blood loss. I am unsure whether I will live to see another day. It was this day's evening that I attended a lecture by a prominent scientific figure. Shortly after it had ended, when I was enjoying the complimentary drinks following these kind of events I was brutally attacked by an unknown individual. This person, after asking for my name (which, I regret to admit I announced) attacked me with the sleight of hand only an expert could afford. While I was still standing in the middle of the hall in which just minutes before a vibrant talk had occurred, I thought about the responsibilities I still owed the society so selflessly organizing the event. I pray to make it through the night, plotting revenge on those assaulting my life at such unfortunate times.

[23:17 PM] Mad-emoiselle finds Lady Verne (Elisabeth Gaberdiel) happy to be dead

Mad-emoiselle reports:

Dear Gentleman,

Earlier this evening I attempted to kill Elisabeth Gaberdiel, only to find her happy and paranoia free as she had been killed earlier today [Surely you mean sad and motion free? -TG]. After a tense few minutes conversing with her maybe assassin neighbour I fled.

- Mad-emoiselle

Thursday, 20 October

[07:20 AM] Arkaen (Alex Wallace) has a rude awakening from Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation]

Arkaen reports:

Hi Umpire,

I have been killed at around 7:20am this morning. My attacker was did not give their identity, however they said they "had to wake up at 6:30 to get here" if this is any potential indicator of distance. [Indeed- "somewhere in Cambridge" is my best guess. -TG]

I was rudely awakened this morning by what must have been a knocking at my door. I ignored the knock, thinking my door was locked, but of course the day an assassin comes after me so happens to coincidence with the one day I forget to lock up. My attacker entered my room and before I could react I was shot with a single well-aimed nerf bullet to the head.

RIP me.

Just another cog in the wheel [we don't need no automation] reports:

Laudanum and I were lovers - passionate lovers - for a long time. But an assassin's brain cannot be so clouded. Since stopping my daily trysts with her, I am often afflicted with bouts of insomnia, and last night was no exception. Staring into a misted lantern as drops of condensation form on its surface can only hold your attention for so long, so I decided to go for a walk to clear my head just as the sun came up.

Walking through the thin rain in my broken-soled boots, I spotted a faintly illuminated building in the middle distance, which turned out to be a sparsely inhabited tavern; open so early? But the door gave easily at my touch, and the familiar greyed-out decor and slight scent of rotted wood made me realise I had visited this place before. I had stalked my prey for a full hour here before, but he was wily, and would not respond to my knocking or my ruse of needing someone to take my large, free ale barrel that I was carrying around. This time, however, I had him pinned, and I just needed to wait for him to descend the lone staircase from his flat above the tavern. I had the barmaid pour me some tea (couldn't risk lowering my reflexes) and slipped her the little vial of laudanum in my right pocket to keep her quiet.

I spent half an hour's waiting jotting half-coherent thoughts in a black-bound notebook, mostly around the same themes of 'I keep dreaming of the dead faces of the people I've killed but I'm not all that concerned about it' and 'God should have designed the human body to be unable to leave the house before 8am' before I idly tested the door in front of me. To my surprise, it gave way, showing another door. I crept forward and carefully, carefully turned the creaking doorknob of the second door, which shocked adrenaline into my heart as it also gave way, showing my unwitting target slumped on his bed giving an unintelligible groan that I'd hesitantly translate as 'who the [CENSORED] are you and why are you waking me up at such an unsociable hour'.

Before he could gather his wits, I stormed into his room and shot him through the heart with my trusty jolt, which clicked agreeably as I tucked it back into my jacket pocket. I left the bullet without retrieving it, which in hindsight was foolish since it has proven so lucky (I am of a type susceptible to superstition), but I made sure there are no identifying marks on it so I am safe. As safe as one can be in this world, I suppose.

I did end up retreating into [REDACTED COLLEGE] on the way home to escape the rain, and falling asleep over a hearty breakfast for half an hour, so I feel somewhat more refreshed. The knot in my heart aching for more bloodshed has not loosened, however. I am not done.


[09:55 AM] The shadowy T-O-E strikes again, this time killing Tamanta (Andrew Browne)

T-O-E reports:

Andrew had been expecting his bus. I plunged my knife into his back... death always runs on time.

Tamanta reports:

Good day,

This morning I suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a bumbling fool who could not even keep his nerf dart in its gun [Apparently not bumbling enough... -TG]. Unfortunately, having forgotten that I had a keyblade for self defense, I was unable to escape quickly enough and was stabbed to death with said bullet.

While I know it will be required that next term I kill some targets of my own and respond to similarly poor attempts at killing me by putting my assailants out of their misery in order to restore my honour, I would like to join the police force for this term in the hope that good service there will pave the way.

I look forward to working with you and the rest of the police


[18:00 PM] Thaddeus Valentine demonstrates why he's a famous (yet ruthless) hero, kills Septima Quintiliana, Mistress of Machinery (Victoria Clarkson) and ladylemongrab (Cora Cunningham)

Septima Quintiliana, Mistress of Machinery reports:


This afternoon I got shot, my assassin's going to send the full report, please can I sign up for the police force?


[18:25 PM] Dr Phlogiston burns his bridges with ISTW (Isaac Wilkinson)

ISTW reports:

At 12:55 (aprox) Disgraced Dr Phlogiston was welcomed into the room of ISTW on the hope of an alliance. Any opportunity of an Alliance was shattered as Dr pulled a pair of guns and held ISTW hostage for aprox 5 mins. There were attempts at persuasion but it was to no avail. The only hope of ISTW was the throwing star in the right pocket, but it was known that it would be near impossible to outmatch the speed of an already drawn and loaded nerf gun, never mind two. ISTW pursued dialogue as long as possible hoping for a distraction of any kind, but none presented themselves. When all dialogue paths had been covered, ISTW initiated combat, moving first, dodging the first excellently aimed dart, but succoming to the second as it landed as a torso hit. The throwing star also hit its target, but only after the nerf dart had landed first, making it void.

Note to all others, Dr Phlogiston is a very good shot


(how'd i join the police now?) :)
the game was a lot of fun, many thanks guys

Dr Phlogiston reports:

LOG #846 - field tests finally successful

While my continued attempts to isolate and purify the essence of the combustion process remain fruitless, I did conduct a very satisfying field test today of my latest inventions. Leaving the garage for lunch [note to self: blackmail landlord into waiving rent], I took the opportunity to call in on a dear old friend of mine, one ISTW. Most other genius visionaries like myself leave work at work, so to speak - who knows what could happen, carrying dangerous contraptions around in public? - but I always carry my devices on me, in case circumstances arise in which they might come in useful. After all, the new safety-features I installed (ensuring that if my toys do explode messily, they explode in the direction of other people and not myself) meant that if any disaster befell accidentally, it would only befall innocent bystanders.

Anyway, I left for lunch and, as I was passing by one of this city's finest academic institutions, I paid a call to ISTW. Acquaintances on good terms, he welcomed me into his chambers and we sat down for a catch up -

ISTW: good to see you again, Dr.; how fare your experiments?

Myself: oh, you know how it is, old chum. It's so difficult to get funding these days. Just a few "flagrant violations of human rights" and suddenly, no one will publish my papers any more! I tell you, the scientific community seems to care more about passing PAT tests than they do about true Progress. But what can you do, eh? Since going solo (don't believe what you read in the papers - 'disgraced' and 'unspeakable endangerment of colleagues' are pure hyperbole on their part; they were always jealous of my accomplishments), I've been free to conduct my experiments as I wish. And you, ISTW? Are you enjoying your research?

ISTW: actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something entirely different. I've recently had a spat of, well... attacks, really; I don't know how else to put it. One "Baron Aliquam" keeps leaving notes for me and I find it rather troubling. You have so many powerful devices - perhaps together, we could do something about this?

Myself: that is indeed a tempting offer. One can never be too thorough in collecting data. Here, see for yourself, my latest innovations -

And I laid upon the table metal objects of various sizes, clockwork whirring behind glass windows. Glinting in the noon sun, the burnished brass was hot to the touch, but the heat seemed to emanate from within.

Myself: - and, this goes... here... and *clANk* *chachak* oof.. there we go -

The Conflagration Generator towered in the centre of the room, giving off jets of hot air. Together, we admired it.

Myself: speaking of field tests... I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, my friend -

I trained a steam pistol at my companion, gesturing to his chair, and he sat down, a forlorn light dawning in his eyes.

Myself: it's nothing personal, old chap. I respect you, I really do. But sadly, you let slip the other day that your own sights were set on a very dear friend of mine, and we can't be having that. Fortunately for me, - and, honestly, I wasn't going to tell you this - our mutual contact recently tasked me myself with your elimination too - what a happy coincidence indeed.

ISTW: it appears we find ourselves at an impasse. I confess I had not expected this. You seem troubled - can your conscience allow this, to kill me in cold blood?

Myself: not cold blood, friend. You clearly have multiple esteemed members of our guild wanting to see the back of you - surely you would agree that, considering that you are likely to expire within a day, we would both rather it be by my own hand, and not that of a stranger?

ISTW: that is true, but surely our cooperation could be of use to each other yet?

Myself: alas, having revealed my hand, I cannot allow you to see another day - gentlemen though we are, I can never know for sure where your allegiance truly rests, and -

- before I could finish my sentence, ISTW lunged for his blade. In a flash, I discharged my weapon, only to glance off his shoulder, and he let fly a vicious metal star in my direction! Luckily for me, I had had the foresight to draw already a second gun, and the subsequent bullet finished the job I had set out to do. While the throwing star still quivered in the chair I had just left, I bid my late friend farewell.

ISTW: it was for the best, I see.

Myself: I am sorry it came to this. But your death will not be in vain.

I dismantled the Generator, and stowed it in my pack. No one could know of this. I dropped a single sulfur match as I went on my way, and by the time the building was receding into the distance, flames had begun to lick the skyline.

I have more data to gather yet. A sample size of one is no grounds for a watertight analysis, if I am to be published in Nature yet.

[19:00 PM] Chen (Chris Jensen) shouldn't have taken on Charles Atlas

Chen reports:


So I just got killed by Atlas.


Atlas reports:

A fresh, inexperienced assassin named Chen opened his door to a stranger and quickly regretted it as a pen(knife) was silently sunk into his heart. He very quickly followed on to stop regretting it, when his heart stopped. As he lay growing cold, a passer-by noticed his friend's open door and entered. He stood petrified, and swiftly stood aside for fear of his life while I made my escape. Was leaving a witness of the scene a mistake? Mercy will not get in the way of Atlas' victory in the future...

[19:15 PM] The Knife cuts both ways, particularly when you hurt innocents... The Knife is now Wanted!

The Knife reports:

The knife missed it's target. There was... collateral.

The Knife would like to apologise sincerely to all parties involved.

[The Knife has just demonstrated the need to confirm the identity of your targets before you stab them, and will go Wanted for his crimes! -TG]

[22:10 PM] A police hunt for Wanted Criminal The Knife (Joshua de Gromoboy) is in vain, as The Iron Giant AKA Dr Phlogiston (Ben Mortishire-Smith) coshes The Knife before being killed for bearing by The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head, after which Steamed Broccoli steps in to claim the kill of The Knife! Whew.

The Knife reports:

The Knife brought itself to a gunfight, got coshed, and then lightsabered. Not a good day for The Knife. The Cosh got Gunned, though, so that's something...

The unfortunate 3rd year engineer from Pembroke who was killed when his trombone fell on his head reports:

Not sure how I feel about this one. Was led on a virtual death mission into a hostel with no fewer than three assassins living there by Joshua de Gromoboy. The treachery did not surprise me as Josh had just become wanted.

However fortune was on my side as Ben Mortishire-Smith coshed Josh to reserve the kill for another assassin. I couldn't abide his failure to conceal and so I avenged my mission leader by revenge killing Ben. I'll count this as a victory.

Shrike reports:

So we staked out the hall the band was playing in, but he seems to have got out the front door while I was looking to make sure there was no back door. He slipped through our fingers, which is a shame. [Are you trying to be as much of a stereotypical police force as possible? -TG]

Songbird reports:

"Songbird, Songbird, see him fly, drop the children from the sky. When the young ones misbehave, escorts children to their grave. Never back-talk, never lie, or he'll drop you from the sky!"
A Columbia nursery rhyme

Songbird went hunting for prey again. 2 wanted assassins this time. Axis Cogs was the first target, but despite an extensive hunt by many bloodthirsty police officers, he somehow managed to elude us. However, my disappointment from this was offset by the emergence of a new target, The Knife, which offered a far more promising hunt. Through my extensive connections and hunter's intuition (or rather, by an extremely fortunate coincidence) I knew our prey was a member of [REDACTED] and also knew they were meeting at that very moment and exactly where. In no time at all, Shrike, Mutton Choppington and his strange contraption that emits an ethereal glow and very occasionally jets of steam and myself were waiting in ambush. My sharp eyes failed me though, since he somehow managed to slip past us. But we police are never dissuaded, and we promptly tracked him down again and stabbed his corpse, finding he had been killed be someone else not a few minutes prior.
Looking back I realise I didn't actually achieve much. Oh well. Next time. Fear the Songbird anyway.

Steamed Broccoli reports:

Josh tried
Josh died

The Iron Giant reports:

[Click the image to view it- it's totally worth it, just too big to fit on the page! -TG]

Superman Report

[22:53 PM] Miss Scarlet (Lucy Ruben) fails to give Anna Fang the information she needs...

Anna Fang reports:

Taken from the logbook of the Jenny Haniver.

20th October, 1006 T.E.

This afternoon, I heard rumours that a musician, Lucy Ruben, had information key to the discovery of more of the MEDUSA device, something the agents of London seem curiously keen to investigate. I decided to pay her a visit myself. Docking the Jenny Haniver under the cover of darkness at [COLLEGE REDACTED], I swiftly found the lady in question, but even under more unorthodox methods of interrogation, she seemed curiously unwilling to divulge anything, apparently in fear of the repercussions if her superior found out she had broken. She was of no further use, so I ended it, and at last, she died.

The Anti-Traction League will prevail and the Earth will be cleansed.
Anna Fang

Friday, 21 October

[09:00 AM] Gilgamesh Wulfenbach departs Castle Wulfenbach in search of Thaddeus Valentine, but his clanks fail to find his target

Gilgamesh Wulfenbach reports:

Gil stretched and yawned. What time was it? One of Agatha's tiny clanks in the shape of an alarm clock let out an annoying shrieking noise again.

"Yes, I realise", he grumbled. "It is indeed time to wake up. In FIVE MORE MINUTES!"

The clock gave him what could only be described as a betrayed look before whistling again. Gil winced and then brought his hand down, aiming to crush the annoying thing. It skipped out of the way. Why did Agatha insist on building these? They were amazing spark-work, to be sure, but did there need to be so many? Nagging him to get up even when she was away on business? She always seemed to be these days, visiting the Castle Heterodyne or that oaf Tarvek. He suppressed the urge to build a far-seeing device to get into contact with her. She'd be back soon.

"Fine, I'll get up. But you haven't heard the last of this." He shot his death-glare at the offending machine. Father had had him practice that in the mirror for weeks, as one more of his tests. The clank didn't seem to notice, however, and let out a merry tootle before trundling off in the direction of his kitchen. Gil sighed and swung his legs out of bed. Some of the other clanks of Agatha's design were rather more persistent than that. His leg still had the scars of one ill-fated attempt to remain in bed after the appointed time, and Agatha was awfully upset when he bludgeoned that one into scrap (and then naturally incorporated it into his latest work. He was a Spark, after all.

In the kitchen, Wooster was already up, impeccably turned out as always. Without stopping the ascent of his tea to his mouth, he tapped a button on the table. The breakfast-clanks swung into action, with a cacophony of screeches and the whoosh of ignition.

"Morning, Master Gilgamesh." The tea descended again.

"Morning Wooster." Gilgamesh swirled into a seat, brushing aside some of the plans which covered the table. "Anything interesting happening?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Some of The Other's creatures have been spotted stirring. The Master of Paris sends his regards on your father's 154th birthday. Oh, and the Lady Heterodyne also sent a- ah- personal message."

"Agatha! That's unusual" Gil frowned. "How did her message get here? I thought we were still on full lockdown after that little incident with the Iberian infiltrators the other week."

"You know how her little clanks are, sir. Several of the flying types have a vaporiser attached- zap projectiles right out of the air. And then there's some with energy dampeners for the plasma weapons, simple conductors for the lightning cannons. Suffice it to say, sir, that the message got through."

"Ha! Trust her to do it that way. I'd have just launched a flotilla and had enough of them distract the defences for the real one to get through. Do you remember that time in Paris? The time that rat Spark surrounded the party with his FliegeRatten?"

"Vividly, sir." Wooster took another sip of tea. "It was most amusing. I recall I nearly lost my arm being one of the 'distractions'."

"True!" Gil gave a hearty laugh. "But the looks on the Gens d'Armes faces when they turned up and found that we'd got the vial through to Samma made up for it, right?"

"Indeed, sir." Wooster smiled gently. "Breakfast, sir."

As he spoke, the noise ceased and four slices of perfectly made toast, complete with two rashers of bacon and an egg each, dropped down on a plate in front of him. Gil reached up to take the knife and fork being deployed from a mechanical arm. "You eaten already, Wooster?"

"Naturally, sir." His assistant brushed an invisible speck of dust from his jacket. "Would sir like today's briefing?"

"Go on," Gil mumbled from around a mouthful of toast. "And the message."

"Very good, sir. They both relate, sir, the case of Thaddeus Valentine." He drew a dossier toward him. "Powerful Spark, from the looks of things. Occasional assassin and rogue, but mostly goes off on expeditions looking for old devices abandoned by other Sparks to put in his own works, meaning he has quite a formidable arsenal. Recently some of it left behind by the Other. As you know, your father has forbidden any meddling with that technology."

Gil nodded. As ever, the very mention of the name brought back stories passed down from that time, when the Other had terrorised Europa. Mass enslavement by her wasps, her Geisterdamen everywhere... even Father hadn't stopped her. He'd missed that fight, and returned in time to clean up after the Heterodyne boys. Gil privately wondered whether part of his father's abhorrence of the Other's creations was due to guilt that he'd not been present for that war. Not that most thought those sort of thoughts about Baron Klaus Wulfenbach. His mask never cracked to reveal his inner thoughts. Not even to his son, even after all this, thought Gil bitterly.

"He's been tracked to Old Cambridge. Normally we wouldn't intrude on Albia's-" he coughed "-Her Undying Majesty, Her Britannic Majesty." he said very fast. "Sorry sir, force of habit." He adjusted his notes. "Yes. Intrude on Her Majesty's domain. But in this case, we have been granted special dispensation to proceed. Her Majesty is not keen to have the Other's technology back again any more than we are, and she is engaged with more pressing affairs of state. Her Majesty has granted leave for a single Wulfenbach airship to enter her airspace. We shouldn't face any trouble from her: the Isle of Cambridge is completely isolated from the rest of the kingdom."

He paused to take another sip of tea. "The issue will be contending with Thaddeus Valentine. He's got a mixture of spark-work from all over the world, in addition whatever of the Other's relics he can get going. The good news is that I have some good friends in Cambridge, and he's not keeping a low profile. He killed two people yesterday in some macabre experiment. That means that people are more willing to give us information to stop this maniac."

In his chair, Gil finished the last of the toast. "Splendid- what's the plan?"

Wooster adjusted his lapels. "His base is by all reports thoroughly secured, but we do know where he will be in half an hour. He's meeting with a group of mathematical sparks at the [REDACTED IDENTIFIABLE LOCATION]. That should give us our window of opportunity."

Gil smiled. "Half an hour? I'll have to break out one of the experimental designs. But- about Agatha's message?"

"Yes, sir. She has sent a iconograph. It depicts her in somewhat... unconvetional gear. Here, sir." He handed over a rolled piece of paper. Gil took it and unrolled it.

"Ah, I quite see, Wooster. The artist does seem rather to have altered her proportions. And her clothing. As she's noted at the bottom of the sheet." He turned over the page. "And she's also put on a secret message! How very Agatha-like."

Wooster spluttered. "Sir- I have run the standard checks on it and there is no trace of any- are you saying I have been derelict in my duties?"

"Don't worry, Wooster. It's only readable by applying sufficient quantities of solvent to dissolve the poster and leave the message. Laudunum, if I'm not mistaken from the paper. In any case, it will have to wait. We'll take the Falling Machine." He leaped to his feet, as clanks moved to put on his heavy coat and his weapons, moving towards his workshop, Wooster hurrying behind him.

"But sir! You've not resolved the problems with the heat dump!"

"We'll do it en route, Wooster. No time to waste! Jump in!"

Wooster complied. The machine roared into life, and leaped out of the window, Gil at the helm, and Wooster with a white-knuckled grip on the sides of his chair. Immediately, the engine failed and they fell into the clouds below...


Precisely thirty minutes later, the green aircraft almost-crash landed into the grounds of [REDACTED LOCATION]. Gil leaped out.

"Well, nearly resolved the fault, eh, Wooster? Just a pity it's still a little temperamental on the descent."

Wooster extricated himself from his padded seat and surveyed his irretrivably torn jacket arm. "Indeed, sir."

"Oh, get over it, Wooster! We arrived, didn't we?"

"That would appear to be the case, sir. Shall we take up positions around the entrance?"

"Go on, then. I'll take the roof entrance. You cover the back exit. And ditch the jacket! You won't need it. I'll send half a dozen guard clanks to cover you, you'll be fine."

"As you say, sir. Sir, wouldn't it be prudent to scout out the site and verify that no additional entrances remain?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wooster! Everyone knows a spark-built-building has two entrances: one obvious one at the front for people to come in to and one at the back to escape out of when things go wrong! The others are all for show!"

"Very good, sir."


"We appear to have missed him, sir."

"Damnation Wooster, you're right as ever! He must have spotted our approach and not attended this meeting."

"Or he could have used another entrance, sir?"

"I've told you to stop that, Wooster. There are no other entrances. Let's extricate the Falling Machine and replan. We'll have to get him some other time..."

(PS: the [REDACTED LOCATION] is really quite big...)

[You managed to over 1000 words doing nothing? A new competitor for the Prolific Writing award approaches... -TG]

[09:51 AM] Sergeant Detritus throws a spanner in the works, derailing Axis Cogs (David Agoston Farkas)

Axis Cogs reports:

I was stabbed to death by the police at 9:50 as I was walking to one of my lectures.
I don't know the perpetrator's name, but he did say he didn't like Cogs and machinery, that he's a luddite.

Axis Cogs

Detritus reports:

sorry im a luddite

[12:00 PM] Lyra Silvertongue turns weapons distributor to the Rook

Lyra Silvertongue reports:

After a small dispute about the number of libraries in Cambridge (apparently it's more than one, who knew?) I met Rook in a shadowed aerie. Weapons were exchanged and lucks bid well. May your bullets fly true. May no criminal survive our justice.

~Lyra Silvertongue

[14:00 PM] mostly harmless fails to harm anyone

mostly harmless reports:

Found out that target frequents certain place. Scoped out place. Target was not there, unless target has changed hair or taped another face to own face. Left. Bought apple on way home. Apple tasted of failure and thwarted intentions.

Apple did not really taste of thwarted intentions. Apple tasted of apple. Am fan of poetic license. [Damn it, was looking forward to growing a tree of 'Thwarted Intentions' to go with 'Bitter Despair' and 'Anguish of Failure'-TG]

- mostly harmless is, for today at least, actually mostly harmless

[23:00 PM] Big Danny (Daniel Rodrigo Davies) is brought down to size by Caligula

Caligula reports:

A group stood huddled in a dark field, watching the sky for elusive meteors. Whilst his target was distracted, Caligula walked silently through the darkness to his target with revolver in hand. Stepping out of the shadows he fired, shock frozen on his victim's face as the bullet pierced his heart. Stepping back once more into the umbra unseen, the deed was done.


[NB: For those concerned, this was not any form of society meeting, so is a legitimate kill -TG]

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