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

[fernbeleafer]

[ hahaha what are words??????? ]

Uhh-- [ smooth. ] No! [ ...real smooth. ] Wait, I mean-- not like no how dare you just. I don't want to ruin your tissue ... thingy.

[ she holds one hand out to stave off bloodying up alexander's offering, and covers her face for a moment. glowing purple light reflects off of her already-red cheeks. ]

[softhearted]

[ He goes through a minor face journey as she talks, from surprised to confused to mildly amused at the misunderstanding. Certainly, he isn't in any position to judge her awkwardness. What he is in a position to do, however, is worry about what she's doing making her stick out; glowing purple light stands out on the mundane streets of Paris, and he glances around furtively to ensure no one has seen her do whatever it is she's just done.

He returns his handkerchief to his pocket and lowers his voice. ]

If... you don't mind the inquiry, [ he starts, ] what is that you've done?

[fernbeleafer]

Hm?

[ her eyes pop wide with the realization of her grave error. keyleth launches into another ramble, with plenty of contradictions for flavor. ]

Oh. Oh! It's uhh a special thing. Nothing, really. Just err-- herbs! It's herbs. They're nothing special. Just special herby herbs?

[ and her hand is still covering her face because nobody's going to believe that herbs can fix a broken nose and also erase blood. ]

[softhearted]

[ She speaks so fast— he raises his eyebrows, attempting to follow along. After a moment, he purses his lips, uncomfortable. ]

Apologies, ma'am, but I've never seen a herb that glows before.

[ He doesn't believe her in the slightest, but he also dreads sounding like he's accusing her; instead, he decides to ask, ] What herb is it, exactly? I've got a bit of an interest in botany, and I'd... be quite pleased to know the name, if you don't mind.

[fernbeleafer]

Oh. Oh! Yes, I too love botany. [ unfortuantely, her awkwardness probably makes that sound like a lie, despite it being the most genuine she's been yet. ] The herb? The herb's name? The name ... of the herb. Right, yes. Of course.

[ deep breath, wide eyes. utter terror. the word that comes to her homesick mind is her tribe, which she spews uncertainly. ]

Zeph...rah. It's from a land that's far away. Called-- [ keyleth omg don't ] --Zephrah. Also. Both are named that.

[softhearted]

[ He opens his mouth, silent for a moment. Oh. He hadn't expected her to dig herself even deeper. Now he isn't certain where to go from here; he can't accuse her of lying, but all of his morals say he shouldn't make her keep talking about what is clearly a phony herb (and a phony faraway land). ]

Oh, [ he says awkwardly. ] That's— ...I see. Both of them. [ The discomfort in the air is palpable, and he secretly wishes for a gaping hole to open beneath him and swallow him up. He reaches up, tapping at his nose. ] You're still covering your face.

[fernbeleafer]

[ what does it look like when you point two mirrors at each other? apparently the mirrors will just try to save face and not rock the boat until they implode from awkward. ]

I am? [ her eyes cross, pointing downward at the hand she very freaking well knows is there. ] Ha! I guess I am!

[ with another deep breath, keyleth lets her hand drop to reveal her perfectly-healed nose. no trace of blood or bruising to be seen. she wiggles it self-consciously and nods before thrusting out the same hand to offer in an abruptly polite (???) greeting. ]

I'm Keyleth, by the way. Just so you don't go around having to call me nose girl or something.

[softhearted]

[ Her nose is clearly healed, and her hand is clearly devoid of any herbs, but it would be awkward to say so now, so he decides to just... sweep it under the rug... Instead, he takes her hand, shaking it politely. ]

I assure you, I wouldn't call you... er, that.

[ 'Nose girl'. It isn't particularly descriptive, even if it weren't an inherently heinous thing to call someone. Most of the women around here have noses, he'd wager. ]

Alexander. [ He cants his head in acknowledgement. ] —You looked like you were holding something before, Keyleth, when you were... struck. In the face.

[fernbeleafer]

Oh, crap. My journal!

[ instantly, keyleth begins turning this way and that, hoping to get a glimpse of her notebook. ]

I was trying to take some notes. I hope it didn't get trampled...it's nice to be able to reflect on the day once it's done, you know?

[softhearted]

I agree entirely.

[ Although he hopes her notes are a bit less— stream of consciousness than when she talks. Otherwise, she'll run through a notebook in a week, tops. He cranes his neck to see through the crowd, and although it's difficult to make out anything with all the chaos surrounding them, he's fairly sure he sees something on the ground in the distance. Certainly ripe for trampling on.

He points vaguely in its direction, though there are so many people in the way that he might as well not point at all. ]

Is that it? It's— ah, there's... yes, someone's stepping on it. [ He frowns. The crowd is nearly impossible to navigate, but it seems courteous to say, ] I can fetch it for you, if you'd like.

[fernbeleafer]

Oh, I couldn't possibly-- [ though it would be super rude to just say no, right? ]

I mean it's just-- [ how do you tell someone you aren't worth all that trouble without getting too deep too fast? ]

You could come with me? [ sure yeah that's the least awkward. even better? keyleth holds out one hand for him to grasp, tucking the other behind her as she casts another spell she shouldn't be casting in public. ] We'll go full buddy system!