let fury have the hour,

[agogemod]

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.

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 KING

It 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 RIOT

It'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 tuileries

The 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 TROOPS

The 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.

Aftermath

The 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

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

a towel soaked in the king's blood? in THIS economy?

[dipolar]

(hei remains "blissfully" unaware of the trials that have been presented to "comrades" who've came before him, the choices they've made to make things come to this, the lamentable blood that's been spilled.

if he knew? even then, it's hard to say if he'd care. empathy's a hell of a drug, these days.

damn, he needs a drink.

that's the quality of the stare hei pins on arthur from beneath the rim of the beat-to-shit hat he traded for half a baguette, lack of understanding and confusion buried under a willingness to bury himself. his hand stays raised because of it; he's been caught. no skin off his nose, when he's faced with exasperation instead of an ill-gotten violent reaction. knows well, in this second, that this man isn't going to attack him unprovoked — maybe, then, some questions are in order.)

Yeah.

...

COST or Regency? ("do i or don't i have to kill you?")

[pointedlook]

I don't think so, you first. You owe me for a ruined jacket.

[ Arthur's not really that irritated by his coat being used a towel. But. Ok maybe he's a little annoyed. Getting the stain out is going to be impossible in this era, because tide sticks don't fucking exist and that's a crime.

So he's going to have to acquire a new jacket. Which. Is aggravating. He likes this one.

As for the stare, he holds the contact, unbothered. Too many people have tried to sway him with such a look and he won't fall for it now. ]

[dipolar]

COST.

(look how easy that was, arthur. in the man's defence, if hei was slapped with blood he wouldn't be so willing to answer questions either. he can be amenable, however, if it's someone on his team and now he's starting to consider how many there actually are. their numbers are growing by every hour he spends in this place.

the only thing that sways the unblinking stare is the fact that arthur's hand is still on his wrist and he wants it gone, eyes dropping and hand wrenching back with a quick jerk meant to disengage him.)

Is that what you should be concerned about?

[pointedlook]

[ Arthur lets his wrist go, especially since he answers positively. Well, maybe not in manner, but the response has him relaxing a tiny bit. He doesn't recognize the man's face, but more recruits keep popping up every now and again, so that's a thing.

Shrugging his jacket off, he folds it over one arm. ]

Likewise.

[ And because he takes his cleanliness seriously: ]

It's disgusting. [ This guy doesn't seem too terribly bothered. ] Come on, there's a place nearby you can wash that off. Better than the back of a jacket, at any rate.

[dipolar]

(the invitation is stilled at, hei taking the time to check on the state of his hands. bloodied the way that they are, not his or the blood of anyone he's killed. it could be carrying something dangerous, any fluid of any man or woman could, but... it fits, it's familiar, and he's seen it so many times that it looks like it belongs there. so arthur's followed almost confusedly, trailing behind.)

I see. Is it a well? Tainting the drinking water would be ill-advised.

[pointedlook]

[ As he goes, he checks over his shoulder, just to make sure the new recruit is following him. With as the crowds as thick as they are in this section, it would be easy to be swept up.

Fortunately, he seems to have picked up someone who can keep up. ]

I'm not taking you to poison the community well. There's a wash room in the bar.

[ Which, incidentally, is where he stops in front of. ] This way.

[dipolar]

Understood.

(in the bar, however -- that's worrisome. not that he's concerned for his life; he's far stronger than anyone in there could be.

he just doesn't exactly fit in, unlike arthur who looks confident enough in his appearance to belong there. hei, strikingly chinese and chased for far less, tugs the brim of his hat low to cast shadow over the majority of his face, chin held closer to his chest.

then steps in, muttering:)

Should something happen, it's no fault of mine.

[pointedlook]

What do you mean?

[ Arthur's voice is low, private. Not too low to seem weird to anyone as they walk into the bar. It's easier to remain casual, project an aura of confidence even if it's the last thing he's really feeling. Anyone here could be Regency. ]

Are you trying to look suspicious? [ He frowns at the tugged down hat, the tucked in chin. And then pushes the door open to the W.C., which is mostly just a run down looking sink and a bar towel hung on a hook to the side. There's a thick bar of soap sitting on the thicker part of the porcelain bowl, somewhat greasy looking. At least it doesn't smell terrible. ]

[dipolar]

I'm Chinese. Late 1700s.

(that should explain it. well enough, even if he has no knowledge of the past. all he knows is that they're searching for anyone suspicious and, being far from french, winning too much attention won't go over well and hasn't so far. but hey, 18th century france liked chinoiserie fashion. maybe they'll be fine.

ducks quickly behind arthur into the washroom, shoving the door shut behind them with an ease up on the billhook strapped to his waist.)

You should wash the back of your jacket. The diseases in this time weren't very amenable.