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let fury have the hour,
WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Agoge's third TDM! And the death of an important guy. And some very upset royalty.
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.
WHAT? Agoge's third TDM! And the death of an important guy. And some very upset royalty.
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.
IT'LL BE FINE;
Paris, 1792: revolutionary france.
read the France setting infopages
arrival for new recruits(Note: If you were one of the people who used the previous TDM and want to use that as canon while still participating in this one, feel free! The following will still happen, though the guide will apologize for a malfunction in your BCE causing you to zap through the intervening month instead of joining your comrades like you should have. You'll be assured the glitch is fixed now, and it probably is. Probably.)
You wake up in a Parisian hotel room with a kind woman standing near the door, waiting for you to awaken. You have none of your clothing, just black military-issued underwear, and none of your previous possessions beyond the one you chose (if you remember choosing) to bring with you.
The woman by the door speaks French, and if you didn't understand the language before, you do now. If you have questions as to what's going on, she'll answer: you are a member of COST, a paramilitary organization of time travelers fighting against the Regency, a tyrannous kingdom of the future who are trying to stamp out freedom and individuality in the name of peace.
She will provide you with the clothing necessary to fit in at this time, and show you how to use your BCE implant to look up information on this time period and its social and political mores. She won't let you leave until you're properly dressed to fit in, but once you are, she'll wish you luck.
KILL THE KINGIt doesn't matter if you're new, or if you've been here a while. You'll hear about the execution going on today. It's as though the barely restrained urban chaos of Paris has ground to a halt. Everything is about the king. Is it really going to happen? Are they really going to do it? Can they do it? Is it even possible?
Anyone out of the loop will be filled in, but with no small amount of ridicule: Today is the day of the king's execution. His trial has wrapped up, and the National Convention voted to execute him for treason and tyranny.
The crowd at the execution is enormous, a riotous mob of passion barely restrained. Everyone is jockeying for a better view, with children and adults climbing up on nearby statues, lampposts, the sides of houses, rooves, some even hang from windows. Everyone watches the scaffold.
The prison cart arrives with no fanfare save the yells of the crowd. Within it sits a small, fat little man, looking like he's doing his best to remain composed. He's brought to the scaffold, and his crimes are read out: colluding with foreign powers, and the crime of royalty, which is anathema to the republic of France.
When asked for his final words, Louis Capet, known to some as King Louis XVI, speaks in a quiet voice. "I forgive my enemies."
When the blade comes down, the crowd errupts into cheers. Many rush forward to touch the blood of a king, dipping bits of cloth in it in an attempt to save it.
I PREDICT A RIOTIt's as though all the built up tension in Paris exploded when the king was killed.
Who knows what started it. Rumors spread like wildfire, and it doesn't matter, does it? In the end, most of Paris is swarmed with chaos, especially in the areas nearest to where the king was executed. There's no doubt that the riot and the king's death are directly related; no peasant currently throwing stones and breaking windows will deny it.
Fights are happening with great frequency. It only takes a word, a half sentence, for someone to decide you're some kind of counter-revolutionary. There is a current of anxiety in Paris that hasn't gone away; after reaching a fever pitch, it has expressed itself with violence and chaos.
let's visit the tuileriesThe Tuileries was the royal palace in Paris, the last residence of the king before his death. Of course the people of France end up clamoring at its gates, screaming profanities and attempting to scale them.
The majority of the guard let them do this, making only the most token of efforts to keep the peasantry back. But one guard, a man by the name of Antoine Colin, seems to become spooked and shoots repeatedly into the crowd before someone knocks him out.
By then, though, it's too late. The crowd was rambunctious, but not murderous. Now it's bloodthirsty, and the gates are stormed. It isn't long before the common people of France are trampling through the corridors of power. Inside, they'll mostly find servants running and hiding, and lots of valuables to steal.
Most are content with that, but not all. Some clamor for the deaths of the queen and the royal children-- per the laws of inheritance, Marie Capet's remaining son is now King of France. Should he not die as well?
The queen is hidden in a safe room, a hollow wall inside her apartments. Do you try to find her? Try to save her? Try to kill her yourself?
...And what about those kids hiding in there with her?
BRING IN THE TROOPSThe riot in the Tuileries lasts several hours, well past nightfall. It's beginning to peter off, people loosing their energy or vigor, when the sound of gunfire echoes from the front courtyard.
General Lafayette has arrived to save the queen, and brought with him a retinue of personal soldiers. All on horseback, brandishing firearms and sabers, they stream through the expansive halls of the Tuileries and attack anyone who looks out of place. They're here to clean up this mess with no concern for more filthy peasants getting in the way.
AftermathThe night is a long one. Several fires break out in various parts of Paris, shops are looted, and several die in the Tuileries. The queen has disappeared, along with Lafayette. Some say she and Lafayette died, and they'll show you the bodies for a couple sou. Others claim they saw them riding off into safety just before sunrise. There are already talks of hunting them down, trying to find the traitors.
Only one thing is known for sure: It may be advisable to stay inside for the foreseeable future.
read the France setting infopages
athena / borderlands / newb
She doesn't quite understand the whys and wherefores keeping her from wearing some freakin' pants, so she is wearing them anyway, her shield slung across her back and the foreign weight of a sabre at her side. It's primitive compared to her plasma sword, but it's more effective than the literally stone age pistols in this place.
As she stalks through the streets, her appearance starts to attract unwanted attention; she's an assassin, not a spy, so the whole "fitting in" goes a little over her head. A man approaches her as others look on from the side of the road, reaching for her shield and saying Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça, citoyenne? -- "what's that"?
Athena reacts without thinking, slapping his hand away. She could possibly use some help before this gets worse.]
ii. PALAIS DES TUILERIES.
He's pillaging himself, taking part in the confusion to shove some gilded knick-knacks in his pockets. Athena moves fast, darting forward and grabbing his shoulder to spin him around, then pins him against the wall with her shield on his chest.]
Where is she?
i
Don't bother.
[ Aloy speaks up neutrally, but firmly, and it's not quite clear which of them she's talking to. She may be young, but she still carries herself like she has some authority. She doesn't, of course, but it's at least enough to catch the man's attention a bit sharply. At that point, Aloy puts more of her attention on him instead as she crosses her arms. ]
Don't you have something better to be doing?
[ So... She might not be able to help in the "not making it worse" department. Aloy doesn't really have great people skills either. ]
no subject
The man looks beyond Aloy for help, motioning to the small group of people watching from the side of the road. Most of them shrug and stay where they are, but two slowly approach. One of them says that tensions are high and anyone who looks out of place is suspicious -- who knows if they're a monarchist spy or something worse.]
If I were a spy, I would look like everyone else, [Athena says flatly, then looks to the man who originally accosted her.] You should mind your own business.
no subject
Yeah, because I definitely look like I care about who the king is.
[ She motions to the bow on her back, since she's essentially making the same argument as Athena. She may be wearing clothing to suit the time period, but it hardly means she blends in. From the weaponry to her hair definitely not being in style, she still looks like an outsider. Honestly, this is also something she's completely fine with. Aloy looks to Athena, but uncrosses her arms to instead put them on her hips. ]
Aren't you making "tensions" worse by just accusing random people? [ she's just saying... But at this point, she does address Athena. ] We could just go.
[ Leaving seems like a better idea than picking a fight, but at the same time, if they insist on doing so, Aloy is taking a guess here that both of them are probably fine to not only do so, but to win. ]
no subject
Plus, like. The locals are technically innocents. Technically. Just annoying.
Still, she'd rather spread a rumor around town that she's not to be trifled with, if nothing else, so she tips her chin haughtily at the men.] You're lucky she was here.
[Flicking her eyes to Aloy in tacit agreement, she turns and starts away.]
no subject
Regardless, Aloy only waits a moment to see how the people react before she turns to follow Athena. There's not really much point in hanging around here, since it's sure to make it worse. ]
That happens a lot. [ She's not saying it as a reassurance so much as she's commenting on it factually. ] I know we're supposed to blend in, but I draw that line at having to leave a weapon because apparently women here don't fight.
i
The woman who catches her eye in the streets of Paris does not belong here either and makes no effort to hide it. As much as she approves, generally speaking, she does have reason to believe it could be dangerous. The people around them are, to her, not a particular concern, but after seeing what the Regency can apparently do to those under its gaze she sees wisdom in not going out of her way to draw their attention to her personally.
It takes no effort to adjust her steps so her path walks her directly into the man reaching for the shield. At the opportune moment her hand rises as though to brush stray hair out of her eyes and she casts Mind Blast, a small shockwave of invisible power sending him staggering backward. He stares in confusion, surprise at least briefly winning out over indignation. ]
Watch your step.
[ Unfortunately this place is a lit wick. She has seen riots break out over less. ]
no subject
Expecting the woman to follow -- she assumes she was giving her a distraction, not planning on taking her place in this confrontation -- she mutters under her breath.]
How did you do that?
no subject
Magic. [ She answers in almost as low a voice, matter-of-fact. ] Not uncommon among our allies.
You are a new recruit?
[ It barely sounds like a question. Without slowing, she glances over her shoulder. ]
i because everyone else is doing it. also i see u using your duolingo prowess
Which is why, upon seeing Athena, so clearly an agent of COST, she narrows her eyes and scowls. Quickening her steps to catch up, she places her hand on the man's in apology. ]
Please, allow me to apologize on behalf of my friend. She is... unwell. [ She leans in closer, whispering conspiratorially. ] It seems she forgot how to dress today! I should take her home at once, to avoid further embarrassment — please excuse us.
[ She smiles, pats his hand, then immediately yanks on Athena's arm, unceremoniously dragging her away. ]
You look like an idiot! And a man! An idiot man, if that weren't an oxymoron.
please i learned that in the 10th grade
Until they get far enough away from the stranger on the street, anyway.] I'm not dressing in-- [She gestures at the frills.]
How am I supposed to move in all of that? --and I am not a man.
wow ok little miss fancy over here
Like so. [ She picks up her skirts and does a little dance for good measure. You just have to believe in yourself. ]
Secondly— clearly you're not a man. But you're wearing trousers, and if you'll take a look around, I think you'll see only the men wear trousers here. You stick out like a terribly unfashionable thumb. Not quite what one wants when attempting to blend.
:angel:
I don't care about fashion. Or blending. [She's just being a Negative Nancy now; she understands, logically, that blending in would be ideal instead of the very weird, very alarming alternative of announcing COST to the unsuspecting masses in Bumblefuck B.C., but. God, she just doesn't care about it.]
Why the hell are only men allowed? This place is backwards.
ii
Easier said than done, in the chaos. 76 is mostly left looking for familiar faces, though some of the fights catch his attention. A woman asking fairly violently about about a certain she catches his attention, even if it could be any number of things.
He shouldn't interfere--he has no idea who these people are or if they're supposed to live or die or what their descendants might do, but his body is moving before his mind catches up, trying to pull the woman away from the man she's currently holding up against the wall.]
Who are you looking for?