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

[rebelqueen]

[She nearly retorted, but her words were gone when she saw the bottle land true. Dinah may as well stay near the stranger for now.]

If there is a quiet place. We don't know how long this will last.

[macginger]

And me with no history book. [He's old as balls but that doesn't mean he recalls historic events that he had no part in with any great clarity. Now he wishes that maybe he had.] Better than in here. Won't take long before some fucker looks in and decides he can take me.

[Sweeney looked dangerous, but he didn't look that dangerous.]

And we sure as hell don't want to be here when night falls.

[rebelqueen]

[He was right, of course. But she had no real idea what he meant at all by having a history book. It would stand to serve as a series of patterns, but to her it had no meaning. It was... history, to someone else. She doesn't even know of this Paris place at all.]

What do you propose? Find a...

[Dinah trailed off. All royal housing would be overtaken, looted, destroyed.]

Where is the military housed?

[Closer to danger, but surrounded by weapons. Best solution would be to find a fortress, but this place had nothing of the sort. That or they run out of Paris entirely.]

[macginger]

The fuck should I know? I've never been here before.

[The street outside has quieted some. Most likely that meant there wa something more interesting happening on the next street instead. He hops off the counter and moves to the window where he can glance out into the street.]

Wherever the army is, it's going to be a slaughterhouse. I say we find high ground. Some nice tall building. [It was the late 18th century, so there was plenty of those at least. Hell, the one they were in now might do just as well.]

[rebelqueen]

And if it stays that way for the next five days? Ten days?

[Crossing her arms, Dinah gives him a skeptical look. She only wants to make sure they have a plan before moving anywhere else. What good would it be to move if you only make a prison of it?]

[macginger]

[He gives her a look of 'why the hell do I have to plan everything?' before sighing.]

Look, I don't know. This is why I don't like big cities. If it takes longer than a day, then fuck it, we'll go out there and fight them. That work for you?

[rebelqueen]

[If it were a field, you would complain about there are too many places to go.]

Better than only hiding and cowering in fear. We will fight our way out, if it comes to that. You are?

[macginger]

Oh what, we're doing names now? [He pauses and looks her over before deciding to settle on the moniker most know him by now. At least part of it.] Call me Sweeney.

[rebelqueen]

[The urge to roll her eyes into the back of her skull is firmly avoided.] Dinah. I would rather have a name than to call you by nothing, especially if we are to be together for long.

[macginger]

[Okay, well, she has a point there. And here he is without anything else to drink either. Or much to eat for that matter. He gives her a curt nod and navigates his way to the stairs. Someone had already forced a large armoire down the stairs as a make shift barricade. There might yet be people upstairs. Well, time for visitors.

He ought to have asked for help in moving it, but he seemed to manage fine on his own. When he had his coin, Sweeney was strong like a proper god should be. Still, strength had its limits even when it came to unruly and awkward furniture and it took a lot of shifting and pushing and cursing before it was standing upright again and with enough room for them to squeeze past.]

Ready, Dinah? [He adds a mocking twist to her name as if having had to introduce themselves to one another was somehow worthy of ridicule.]

[rebelqueen]

[Dinah watches with a measured level of interest, gauging his strength, his clear lack of manners through the excessive swearing at the furniture.]

More than you are, Sweeney.

[Where he throws a mockery of her name, she throws something of a snarl, the irritation that ebbs and flows as it is prone to do. She should treat him better, the same way she deals with her soldiers, but at times it is difficult for her to parse through her own negativity and make a show of sympathy.]

Should we find you a weapon or will you mock those who come into submission as well?

[She's decently pleased with the sword she stole herself.]

[macginger]

[Sweeney has no weapon and the closest thing he had was the bottle he'd already tossed away. But at the prompting of needing a weapon, he gave it some consideration before ripping away one of the thin balusters from the staircase railing. He gave it an experimental thump in his hand. Something like that would get him a good blow or two before it snapped. Good enough.]

If I don't charm them first, then this'll do in a pinch. Now hurry up.

[He heads up the stairs first and only pauses at the top as he takes an experimental look around the corner. No one seems to be home, but it seemed like someone should be. Maybe they flew out the window.]

Have a look down that other way. I'll sleep better knowing no one's home.

[rebelqueen]

[Dinah stares at the apparent ease he could rip off the baluster. Yes, better a friend than enemy.

Indeed she does hurry, and without another word she slips past him and starts to creep towards the opposite end, sword on the ready.]

We mean no harm, we only seek refuge.

[Her voice is purposely calm yet firm. Should anyone be here, at least they would know of her presence. They could be ambushed, of course, by revealing themselves at all.]