Assassins 2007: Official Reports Thread

[Amorphous]

Hello all!

As the game is about to start in half an hour (less than that when I've actually typed this up) I thought it might be time to get around to making the official reports thread for Round 3, Assassins 2007.

Players please note that only game organisers may post in this thread. It's not so we can feel big and important, it's just so we can make sure that the reports don't get lost among general player chat and it's easier to follow the flow of events. Players are more than welcome - nay, encouraged! - to chat in another thread (where I will most likely join you).

Your co-operation in this is massively appreciated. Thanks!

[hr]

Assassins 2007, coming soon...

[Amorphous]

Twinkletoes descended the stairs lightly, full of enthusiasm for the day, and alighted by the postbox to check for letters. He felt momentary delight at having received a small package, which waned only slightly when he saw the University crest embossed on the side.

A few seconds' work with a pair of scissors managed to get the side open, and Twinkletoes pulled the contents out with an air of curiosity.

He was immediately distracted by some sort of explosion of white powder, covering his hand. Automatic attempts to shake the powder off, then forcibly rub it off, proved fruitless and as time marched on Twinkletoes realised the powder was beginning to sting. He looked back to the University crest in confusion - was this what happened when the library staff got REALLY frustrated about unreturned books?

As the nausea set in and Twinkletoes began to lose consciousness, he had just enough time to read the packing note accompanying the powder.

From your friend,
Vulgar Nape.

[Amorphous]

(My apologies for the truly awful headline: I'm a bit peculiar, so for some reason the above makes me giggle. I'm also arachniphobic, so that might have something to do with it.)

Spider Zakash stuck to the wall as he tried to make himself unseen and readied his weapon. Getting here undetected had been easy, with the minor hurdle of making his way past all the Andrew Melville windows, and it was now simply a matter of patiently waiting for his prey... er, victim... to arrive and walk headlong into a web of death. Or a bullet. A bullet might be more effective than a web of death.

Momentarily distracted by a fly on the wall, Spider Zakash tensed himself in response to the sound of footsteps. Presently his target came into sight, a scarred individual known only as 'Wessex'; rumours were abound about his powers, about how he had killed fifty men with a toothpick and survived daily on a simple combination of stimulants and bats. Every scar had its own conspiracy webpage, even.

Steadily, Spider Zakash drew aim and fired.

And missed. Cursing his luck, he attempted to reload and tried to look invisible as Wessex drew his own trusty weapon - itself the object of many a screaming fangirls' attention - and fired two shots into his assailant.

Re-holstering his weapon as soon as he was certain he wouldn't have to fire again, Wessex walked over and examined the body of his arachnid hunter.

One of these days, he might have to move house.

[Amorphous]

Monday afternoon:

High on adrenaline after his self-defence kill earlier in the day, Wessex made his way to the Physics Building eagerly. He'd been planning on taking things a bit more slowly, conducting some more elaborate schemes, but the adrenaline rush was making him restless and interfering with his decision-making abilities.

Stepping in the door he sighted his target almost immediately and opened fire without a second thought. His target, hoping that the nearby presence of Physics lecturers might lend him some protection (possibly by constructing a forcefield out of paper cups and an old 'bring back the shop' petition), ducked behind a table and waited for the loud noises to stop.

Eventually, they did. Carefully he peered through one of the many bulletholes in his cover and managed to spot Wessex standing in disbelief, shortly before turning and running out the door.

As various by-standers emerged from their own cover and started to ask each other what the hell had just happened, Wessex's target reflected to himself that from now on he would feel somewhat more lucky to be capable of attending labs.

[Amorphous]

Spadge Mince reclined in his chair and tried to shake off the sensation that he was being watched. It didn't work, and as the nagging feeling inside grew he eventually felt compelled to take his eyes off the screen on which anime characters were doing odd anime things and try and subtly look behind him.

In the relative darkness another anime fan sitting directly behind him known as Wildcard glanced at Spadge Mince and then returned his attention to the screen. To the right of that and further back, someone else raised their eyebrows at Spadge Mince.

Unsettled, Spadge Mince faced the front again and reached down into his pocket for a weapon to draw in case something happened. Raised eyebrows could mean anything: he was paranoid enough to assume it meant something bad.


Time passed, and a small commotion behind him made Spadge Mince turn around sharply. The eyebrow-raising audience member was getting up; instantly Spadge Mince tensed and his grip tightened as he focussed all of his attention on the shadowy figure.

A clicking noise in his ear gave Spadge Mince just enough time to wonder if he'd made a major tactical error before Wildcard pulled the trigger.

[Amorphous]

Seti wearily made her way through the maze-like corridors of the Bute Building, sticking to the walls and shadows wherever possible and keeping a watchful eye out at all times for any form of sudden movement. Several hours of laying low had managed to keep her alive while inside the building, and now it was a simple matter of getting to the lecture theatre where she could sit, unnoticed, in the darkness.

Pressing herself against the wall, she carefully leant forward to look around the corner. All signs were that the door was clear, and she started to approach. As she drew within metres of the safe haven the door suddenly opened and instinctively she threw herself to the side and searched for a weapon, before realising it was simply another student politely holding the door open for her.

Recovering from her fright she nodded to the individual and walked towards the door, forcing herself not to flinch when he suddenly reached down into his pocket to harmlessly pull out... a Nerf Maverick.

Oh.

There was a solitary gunshot after which Wildcard made haste to leave the scene, passing by Dr Shearer during his speedy exit.

Turning the corner, Dr Shearer took the scene in quickly and took action. "Brian!" she shouted, correctly naming a passing Honours student who had met her only once, during Week 1 of first year. "Call an ambulance!"

Brian nodded hurriedly and pulled out a mobile - however, he was to be too late. Seti would search no more.


(Author's Note: all respects are meant to Dr Shearer, whom my limited experience has led me to believe is MADE OF AWESOME. Her ability to name every member of a hundred-strong first year class after one week and remember them years later is amazing, and slightly scary.)

[Amorphous]

Hypercube whistled as he sauntered through the hallowed corridors of Andrew Melville, by now almost certainly the most death-filled building in St Andrews. The attempt on his life the previous day which had sent him hiding behind a desk had done remarkably little to dampen his spirits, and all in all had given him some insight into life and how best to terminate it in others.

It would be dangerous, however, to become too cocky.

He paused momentarily at the door to the Common Room to conceal with weapon before striding in and scanning the room for targets. Ah, there - Vulgar Nape, apparently too engrossed in a TV show about a group of Australians living in close proximity to have noticed Hypercube's entrance.

Hypercube raised his gun to fire, then noted with dissatisfaction that this situation was a little bit too easy. He coughed loudly to get Vulgar Nape's attention first, then ducked as she reached for her pocket and raised... nothing.

Cursing her luck for watching Neighbours unarmed, Vulgar Nape resorted to waving her arms wildly and shortly found that it was an ineffective response to bullets.


Hypercube re-holstered his weapon and was about to walk out when his ears picked up the sounds of advancing footsteps - someone must have heard the gunshots. He managed to duck behind an armchair - that of the now-deceased Vulgar Nape - just as the door opened, and hastily drew his weapon just in case.

"Vulgar Nape!?" cried a male voice in confusion.

Peering around the armchair cautiously, Hypercube's eyes narrowed in recognition - it was Wessex, the same soul who'd made an attempt on his own life in the previous afternoon. Evidently Wessex himself was no fool: he'd already drawn his own weapon and was now scanning the room suspiciously, standing just out of the range in which Hypercube could reliably hit him.

Waiting until his back was turned, Hypercube took a deep breath and ran for cover behind another, closer, armchair. The absence of loud explosions following his sudden motion suggested that he hadn't been spotted, and Hypercube allowed himself a moment to draw breath before standing up and firing two shots into Wessex's back.

With an expression of disbelief, Wessex turned and slowly toppled backwards.

Re-holstering his weapon, hopefully for a longer period of time, Hypercube cast one last look around the room and made his way to the door, pausing only to fix the television on the way out.

[Amorphous]

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and the air in the Sports Hall was heavy with the 'thwok' sounds of people playing badminton. Creeping around the edges of the hall, Aspasia kept a careful eye on her target: apparently he was too into the game of badminton to be paying much attention to the spectators, or even to his belongings sitting on the bench. Carefully, she slipped a letter into her target's bag and then left, trying to look casual while beating a hasty retreat. The trap was set: all that remained was to hope her target fell for it.


Returning to his bag after a hard afternoon's badmintonage, Wildcard was surprised to find a letter inside that he was certain hadn't been there before. His suspicions instantly piqued, he had a look around the now almost deserted Sports Hall - chances were, whoever was responsible had long since left. Gingerly he removed the letter from the bag and stared at it, wondering what to do next.

"What's that?" a chirpy voice from behind him asked. Wildcard looked up sharply, then relaxed; it was the club treasurer.

He shrugged and attempted to look nonchalant. "Dunno, just found it in my bag. I'm sure I didn't bring it here."

"Maybe it's a secret admirer?"

"Mmm," responded Wildcard non-commitally.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Wildcard looked up sharply as a nasty thought suddenly dawned on him. He held the envelope out to his friend. "You open it."

Shrugging, the club treasurer accepted the letter and made short work of the envelope, tipping the contents out into her hand: a piece of paper, and a pile of white powder. "What the...? What is this?"

Wildcard said nothing as he watched in horror.

The club treasurer sniffed at her hands and then rubbed them distractedly before staggering backwards. "I think... you'd better call an ambulance..."

Spurred into action, Wildcard reached for his phone and dialled the emergency servies. That done, he grabbed his bag and fled the scene.


Minutes later, paramedics charged into the Sports Hall to find it empty but for the club treasurer lying on the floor.

"Careful," one of them announced to the others. "The caller said something about poision."

The first paramedic to reach the body donned gloves and then felt for a pulse. "She's unconscious," he told the others. "But I think she might make it."

[Amorphous]

Tomcat stared at the ceiling when he awoke, confused and trying to piece together in his head what had happened last night. It had been a dream, that was almost certain - otherwise something had gone very wrong with the physics of the world in a way that allowed people to jump almost instantaneously between locations without any apparent logical progress or cause and effect - but had it also been a revelation?

Climbing out of bed, he spotted his gun lying on the bedside table and snatched it with a feeling of renewed determination. From today onwards, things would change.

Grabbing his jacket on the way out, he tucked the gun into his pocket and tried to look inconspicuous. It was a long way to his target, and he didn't want to get stopped by police en route.


Shuffling his way through the streets of St Andrews, he eventually made it to his destination and edged along carefully, mindful of what would happen if he fell. Having successfully reached the end of the pier, he cast a quick glance around to check if anyone was watching him. There were some tourists some way down, but they were too far to see what he was doing and in any case were probably too distracted by local charm.

In one quick and decisive movement, he reached into his pocket and hurled the gun as far as he could out into the North Sea. That done, he turned around and started walking back into town. That part of his life was over. It was time to start putting the world to rights.


The gun slowly sank through the salty ocean and eventually arrived with an almost imperceptible bump on the sea floor. A Norwegian shrimp (Nephrops norvegicus) emerged from its burrow in curiosity and half-swam/half-ran over to where the gun lay. As it was investigating the item another shrimp emerged from a neary burrow and started to advance.

Automatically, the first shrimp's claw tightened on the trigger and its black, globular eyes narrowed as it took aim at the second shrimp. "Gimme all your cash," it bubbled menacingly.

[Amorphous]

Elsewhere in St Andrews, in a smoke-filled room, Ark rotated in his wheelie computer chair to answer a ringing telephone.

"Hello?" he demanded into the handset. There was a pause. "I see." A further pause, during which Ark's eyes flicked nervously to his trusty pistol lying nearby. "Thank you, you've been most... helpful. I shall see to it that this doesn't go unrewarded."

Having hung up, Ark started digging around in his desk drawers for a variety of other weaponry. If his telephonic source was correct, Wildcard was coming to pay him a visit. It would be good not to be present when his guest arrived.


Escaping through the window just in case, Ark decided to make good use of his time outside and do some hunting of his own. Arriving at University Hall, he began scoping out all the common areas and paused instinctively on seeing one man: a suspicious-looking individual reading a newspaper, and wearing a trenchcoat and a brown fedora. From the back he looked like Ark's target, Leonidas, and Ark toyed briefly with the idea of shooting him just in case but instantly decided against - to kill an innocent would be unforgivable, and in any event he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

Advancing upstairs he found Leonidas' bedroom and, after noting with disappointment that he wasn't in, left a vaguely threatening letter. It would let Leonidas know Ark was on to him, true, but it was fun.

On his way out, Ark found himself passing the newspaper-reading gentleman from before and subtly turned to watch his response as he reached Leonidas' bedroom door... there! The newspaper-reading gentleman, now positively identified as the target, had taken out and set of keys and had paused in confusion as he read the note.

With Leonidas sufficiently distracted, Ark lost no time to drawing his weapon and firing off a shot at his head.

That done, Ark re-holstered his weapon and swiftly fled the scene of the crime. With any luck he wouldn't bump into Wildcard on the way back home.

[Amorphous]

Having safely made it back to his bedroom without being surprised by bullets, Ark reclined in his chair and let out a deep sigh of relief.

The moment of relaxation was to be brief, as a knock on his door five seconds later instantly switched him back into alert mode. Snatching his weapon, he crept to the door silently and tried to ascertain by sheer mental willpower who was on the other side.

He felt nothing. It might be time to demand money back from that mind-reading course.

Carefully, he eased the door open by a few centimetres: a bullet promptly embedded itself in his wall, and suggested to him in its own subtle way that closing the door again in a hasty manner might be a good idea.

Slamming the door shut and leaning his body weight against it, Ark congratulated himself for not listening to those who told him he was a fool to line his door with kevlar.


On the other side of the door, Wildcard reflected that the old bullet-in-the-face plan was brilliant when it succeeded but somewhat troublesome when it didn't. It might be time to try a softer approach. He knocked on the door again and, not waiting for a reply, asked, "Can I come in?"

There was no response.

"Please?" Wildcard continued.

Still more silence.

Oh well, it was worth a shot. Sitting down against the opposite wall, Wildcard resolved to wait. His prey would have to emerge eventually. If he could get some good taunting time in before then, well, so much the better.

[Amorphous]

All was still across St Andrews. Suddenly, a young Hit Squad member (codename: 'Silent Sonata') sat up straight: somewhere, crime was being done. He could feel it! And what's more, he was going to do something about it!

Leaping from his chair, he paused only to grab his trusted pistol from the desk before donning a cape and leaping out into the big, wide world.


Ten minutes later, after some wandering around, he'd arrived at an area which his senses told him was teeming with danger. Approaching more cautiously now, he walked foward and passed through a door to find a bedroom, with someone leaning against the wall across from it looking patient but somewhat bored.

The figure against the wall looked over at him with curiosity, noticed the cape, and became outright suspicious. For his part, Silent Sonata was not entirely at ease either. Slowly he reached for his pistol in case it came to a firefight while Wildcard was much more assertive and drew his weapon immediately. Within seconds the air was filled with bullets, and a minute afterwards everything had returned to silence; Silent Sonata had taken shelter in a doorway, while Wildcard had fled.

Staggering down the corridor, he clutched at his hand and winced; one of Silent Sonata's bullets had hit too close for comfort, and there was now a lot of blood. Flexing his fingers in agony, Wildcard reflected that there was no way he'd be able get any of his targets for the next short while, though if he were attacked hopefully he'd be able to stand the pain long eough to defend himself.

[Amorphous]

Thursday evening.

In the darkness of the Kinnessburn region, heavy trooper boots stomped through the mud and over the pavement. The movement suddenly ceased, and eventually there was a crackle of radio static followed by a voice.

"Squad Red, this is Squad Blue. I'm in position, over," announced Squad Blue (née Seti).

Squad Red (née Spadge Mince) crouched down in the dark and set up a sniper position in a matter of second. "Copy that, Squad Blue. Squad Red in position. You have a go, over."

Lying down, Squad Red looked through the sniper scope and took aim at a door across the road. Their plan was fairly simple: make a raid on the house, and get the target on the way out if he tried to run. It had its dangers, but they'd come prepared with bulletproof vests.

From his position Squad Red watched as Squad Blue carefully made her way over to the door and, after checking up and down the street, kicked it open suddenly while drawing her weapon. Apparently seeing that it was safe to proceed, she walked into the house.

There was a moment of silence, then some muffled shouting and a number of gunshots. Alarmed, Squad Red snatched his radio. "Squad Blue, what's happening, over?"

Dead silence.

"Squad Blue, do you copy?"

Squad Red considered attempting to hail his colleague again, but was distracted by motion: Wildcard was emerging from the doorway, looking rattled but far less dead than Squad Red would like.

His features set in grim determination, Squad Red tightened his grip on the trigger and finished his objective.


Once he had ascertained Wildcard was dead, he charged into the house to see what had become of his comrade. Eventually he found her in the lounge, to his horror, lying very still on the floor.

Trust Wildcard to suddenly change MO and start using shurikens.

[Amorphous]

Saturday morning.

Beard awoke in her bed with a start, and spent the next few seconds trying to ascertain why. Her paranoia subsided as she realised what time it was and that the sound that had woken her was that of letters coming through the letterbox downstairs and hitting the floor.

Rubbing her eyes blearily, she made her way down the stairs and picked up a letter-opener - handily shaped for stabbing people if the situation required it - en route before examining the post.

Flicking through a variety of mortgage offers, Tesco clubcard statements, phone bills and pseudo-threats from the Television Licensing Authority, she came across one envelope that immediately gave her a bad feeling. Maybe it was the address in unfamiliar hand-writing, maybe it was the fact that there was no stamp, maybe it was the re-used appearance of the envelope... or maybe it was the fact that some sort of white powdery substance was clearly visible through the little plastic window on the front.

Whoever sent her this did probably not mean her well. Handling the envelope with extreme care, she pondered what to do with it - get rid of it, obviously, but the main problem was how. Under the circumstances, and in order to prevent loss of innocent human life, the best course of action might be to have the thing encased in concrete and throw it into the ocean.

It might kill off some of those bloody shrimp on the way down.

[Amorphous]

Somewhere in the depths of Hit Squad HQ, Silent Sonata and He Of Minced Spadge put the finishing touches to their plan; carefully the former of the two inserted the letter into the envelope and sealed it over, ensuring that the package would not leak.

That done, he pulled off the gloves with relief, looked up and his colleague and nodded firmly. It was time.


Arriving at the house in the wilderness for outside of town, Spadge Mince readied his maverick and nodded to Silent Sonata to indicate that doorbell-ringing could commence. Silent Sonata promptly did so, and both of them resisted the childhood urge to run away.

Eventually someone whom they immediately categorised as Not-Necrowulf answered the door. Spadge Mince relaxed his grip on the maverick slightly.

"Hey, is..." Silent Sonata checked the envelope in pretence of poor memory, "...Necrowulf in at the moment?"

Not-Necrowulf replied in the negative.

Ah. This was going a bit wrong. Spadge Mince released the maverick inside his pocket entirely. "Well, we live down the road and we think they delivered his post to us by mistake - could you give it to him when he gets back?" Silent Sonata lied, profering the envelope.

That job done, the two squad members turned and made their way back to HQ. They'd just have to hope that Necrowulf fell for it.


Returning to his home many hours later Necrowulf was first surprised by the news of a envelope re-delivered by two friendly neighbours, then suspicious, and then even more suspicious and somewhat confused when he saw the envelope didn't have a stamp.

A situation like this required special precautions.

Half an hour later, after some time spent in the garden struggling to put up poles and connect structures together, Necrowulf returned to the envelope dressed in a hazmat suit he'd bought off eBay 'just in case' and carried the envelope out to his newly-erected portable isolation chamber. Once inside the sealed space, he opened the envelope with a precision scalpel and pulled out the paper inside.

"Dear Necrowulf,

You have been judged Incompetent by the St Andrews Guild of Assassins. Your life is the penalty. My apologies.

Silent Sonata, Hit Squad member"

The message was made more difficult to read by the fact that the letter had 'poison' written all over it without having any sign of actually been exposed to chemicals at any point other than the ink.

Necrowulf blinked in confusion, and then shrugged. Any excuse for a bonfire.

[Amorphous]

Underneath Hit Squad HQ, in the tactical planning room, Squad Leader Wild Bill paced back and forth at the head of the room and suddenly pointed to the chalkboard with a stick, causing some of the more inattentive squaddies at the back of the room to jump with surprise.

"Right!" he shouted. "This here is the target building, where we have reason to believe our target will be at 1600 hours today. Team A will cover the front entrance here," he indicated, "while Team B will cover the other front entrance here," he continued, pointing again. "All teams are to converge on the target if they have reason to believe she has broken through the first line of defence, and I'll alternate between the two teams. Teams must maintain radio contact at all times! Any questions?"

There was a brief, somewhat confused, silence.

"Excellent!" Wild Bill continued. "If all goes well, we will rendez-vous at the nearby restaurant to restore energy and nutrients before making a move on our next target. If all doesn't go well, then... we'll see. DISMISSED!"

As the other squad members filed out, Wild Bill turned his back to them and regarded the chalkboard again with pride. Operation Dandelion (the name had won by one vote over its closest rival, Operation Kill Aspasia Dead As She Goes To A Lecture) looked to be shaping up quite well. He had a good feeling about this one.


As the bells struck 4pm, the assembled plain-clothes squaddies went into action mode, each making sure that their weapons were prepped and ready to hand should the need for them arise. Nodding to each other from their various vantage points dotted around the front entrance the only thing that remained now was to wait, occasionally comparing the faces of passers-by to the photo provided on their holo-imagers.

Five minutes passed. Students turned up for lectures, with Aspasia apparently not present among them.

Another five minutes passed. More students turned up for lectures, also somewhat lacking an Aspasia element to them.

A further five minutes passed. Some students turned up late for lectures, and continued the Aspasia-free theme of the afternoon.

As Wild Bill regarded the scene, it occurred to him that it looked an awful lot like nothing happening. With a heavy heart, he picked up his radio and told the rest of the squad to stand down; the effect was instant, as each member relaxed and slipped back into the crowds that were milling around.

Inwardly, Wild Bill sighed. It would happen eventually.

[Amorphous]

Monday night.

In the darkness of his room, Hypercube paced back and forth impatiently. He could feel it inside; a sort of anxiety, an eagerness for blood. Coming to a decision, he snatched his extra dark lurking-jacket from the chair and headed for the door. It was time to go a-prowling.


Fifteen minutes later, as he wandered the border between Fife Park territory and David Russell territory where residents from both sides gathered in the daylight to throw things at each other (sticks, stones, chairs, textbooks, grenades etc.) in continuation of a bitter rivalry going back for centuries, he wondered a little bit if prowling had really been a good idea. There had been no sign of Aspasia so far, in contrast to what his instincts had led him to believe would be the case, and trying to navigate the FP-DRA No Man's Land in the pitch blackness without breaking an ankle was difficult.

He sighed to himself in the cold night air. He'd do one last sweep of Fife Park just in case, but it looked like Aspasia had the good sense to stay indoors tonight.

[Amorphous]

Elite Squaddie Seti waited somewhere in the interior of the Bute Building for her target to walk past, fingering her standard-issue maverick idly. After the two failures of yesterday, it was time to restore standards and the Squad's reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

As soon as he got here.


Necrowulf entered another part of the building and immediately pulled up the hood on his jacket, keeping his head down and trying as much a possible to look like someone who wasn't an assassin. If he could only make it to Lecture Theatre C without any major incident he'd be safe for another hour. With a suspicious eye out at all times he turned the corner and immediately spotted Seti, whom by happy accident was looking in the other direction at the time. Quickly, his eyes darted to the lecture door - if he sprinted, he might make it. If he stood still and hesitated for much longer, he was almost certainly dead.


Seti's attention was drawn as suddenly a hooded figure went charging up the stairs. Catching a glimpse of his face - Necrowulf! - she drew her maverick and fired. The first shot went wide and caught him in the leg, but this slowed him down just enough for Seti to make sure that the second shot counted.

As Necrowulf lay on the stairs feeling his life slipping away, he reflected that even a hazmat suit probably wouldn't have prevented this one.

[Amorphous]

In strategic points around the entrance to the Union, Elite Squaddies Seti and Spadge Mince waited. The tip-off had come late, and there was a chance that the target had made his way to safety already, but they tried anyway because hey, it was their job.

Time passd by. Their target did not.

Sighing into his sniper rifle, Spadge Mince started slightly at the sound of radio static followed by a voice.

"Spadge Mince, this is Seti, over?"

"Copy that," Spadge Mince responded.

"If he was attending the AGM he'd be here by now. Either he's not coming or he's inside already. I think we might have to give up on this one."

Spadge Mince had been thinking the same thing, but that didn't make hearing it any more pleasant. "Copy that. I suggest we head indoors for a very strategic pint."

[Amorphous]

Making his way along the cobbled roads of St Andrews, Edward the Great realised to himself in one horrible moment that he was unarmed.

Ah. Not good. This sort of situation required action, some sort of protection, just until he could get himself back home or to an arms dealer or something.

Sighting a church, Edward the Great smiled to himself. Sweet salvation!

Ascending the steps at speed, Edward barely paused to acknowledge the person at the top of the stairs. Had he looked at them for longer, he may have noticed a very interested expression on their face.

"Edward the Great!?" the man cried suddenly, with apparent confusion.

"Erm... yes?" Edward responded.

Without further comment, the man slipped a dagger out from his sleeve and stabbed Edward in the heart in one fluid movement before pushing Edward away and leaving him to go tumbling down the stairs, adding insult to... well, adding minor injury to already fatal injury.

Wiping his blade off with a gentleman's handkerchief - stolen - Butler nodded smartly to himself and walked away from the scene of the crime with an air of dignity. These days, most assassins just didn't kill people the way they used to.