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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
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[ Not his proudest moment, but if Achilles were dealing with him in person he'd have to hear a lot more complaining than he is right now, especially in response to that criticism. ]
Well this isn't exactly my neighborhood so I don't know if I can give solid directions but my location's public on the network.
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We'll be fighting to our heart's content.
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[ Because the BCE can tell him where his coordinates are, but if he's in a crowded area, it will be difficult to tell. ]
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[ ... ]
Oh. Dark hair, blue eyes. Bad clothes. [ This bothers him deeply. ]
Look, just let me know when you're close and I'll wave.
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But wave he does, then, trying to reach as high up as possible. ]
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Noctis will get a nudge on the back, which feels more like a pat than someone trying to shove him out of the way. He's wearing a hat, by the way, so he can't make any comments about his green hair. ]
Bonsoir. [ Turn around.... Are you pretty? ]
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So he turns... and immediately looks up. Not as high up as he has to for Gladio but this still isn't a slight man, easing his weight onto his back foot for a smidge more distance. ]
Are you... [ Now realizing he never got his name. ] ... that guy? [ nailed it ]
1/2
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He gives a bit of a laugh, reaching up to tug at the narrow brim of his hat as a way of gesturing another greeting and affirming his guess. Around them things are not quiet, but the crowding and panic has certainly calmed down some now that the initial rousing has dissipated. Many have retreated or left in search of shelter. ] Hopefully; I am if your name's Noctis.
Mine's Rider. [ Don't ask. ] I've come to aid you.
How long have you been at this, now? [ Fighting, or whatever it is that he's been doing in the middle of a riot. ]
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... yeah, I know, that's why I messaged you and that's what we talked about. Ah, well... Whatever.
I've been trying to help break up some fights around here where I can for a few hours, I'd guess, but I haven't really been keeping track. What about you? ... Maybe this isn't the place to hang out and talk.
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You'll need to rest for a bit, then. If you start slowing down because you're tired, you'll just be a hinderance. [ He'll reach around his back and place a hand flat against the nape of his neck, ushering him along. ]
Come on.
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Hey, knock it off-- [ Nigh immediately as he shoves at his forearm, clearly unaccustomed to this -- not many people act so friendly with royalty, even if going unrecognized is always a little liberating. ]
I'm going, I'm going... You didn't even answer my question, "Rider". Wasn't your username "Acheelies", anyway? [ Definitely pronounced "a chiles". ]
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[ LMAO. He'll let go of him, though, laughing. ] Ah... Let's see. Most of these houses have been ransacked.
Maybe we can find an underground cellar.
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Stick to Noctis and I'll stick to Rider, even if that would've made for a better online handle. [ Honestly he'd change his own if he could, but it looks like this is his life now. Not very badass... But now's not the time.
He's quiet for a long moment as he looks at the buildings on either side of them, examining them for hints, clues as to where they might locate such a place.
Annnd then he wheels back on Achilles, walking backward a few steps. ]
I don't know where to find that. That's why I called you here.
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Besides, I am tired as well, so I don't feel like making idle chatter, anyway.
[ Fighting on an "empty stomach" just isn't good for a warrior. ] I'll have to leave you alone for a bit while I recharge somewhere.
[ You don't wanna know what that entails. ]
Come on, follow me down here. [ He's going to take a short-cut, which is dipping into someone's private estate. Though, the gates have been pretty much demolished so peasants could get inside and steal everything that had value to it. ]
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Hey, wait. [ And suddenly now he's the one reaching out, grabbing for Achilles's arm with a surprisingly firm grip to tug him back a step so he can elbow his way into the lead. ]
If you're not feeling a hundred percent then let me take point. I'll keep you safe. [ Followed by a glance back over his shoulder that he means to be cool and reassuring but he looks away too quickly. Right, leading the way... He steps over a marred threshold, a quick look left and then right... and then a sudden lean back again nearly into the other man's space, peering back outside. ]
Is that something? [ An outdoor cellar entrance. Wow, he should've spotted that earlier. ]
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Noctis is lucky he seems harmless, because a guy like Achilles might have easily taken offence. For now he's just mildly amused.
He instinctively places a hand over his shoulder as Noctis backs up into his chest, keeping his voice low and purposefully snide. ]
Better be careful. You don't know what could be lurking in there during times like these.
[ Partly true, given that thieves and criminals have been emboldened by the chaotic state of Paris and have been running rampant. ]
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What's that supposed to mean? Pretty sure I can handle whatever's "lurking"... [ Yeah, no, if you want to mock him you'll have to be more obvious about it. All the same he's slipping back around the corner to investigate the twin hinged doors standing at a slight angle with the ground, raised and adorned with a single lock keeping the handles together. ]
Here--
Come over here and break this, okay? [ WHY ACHILLES ]
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His weapon manifests seemingly out of thin air, particles of mana gathering near his hand before taking the shape of a spear. With a flip of his hand, he turns the stave over and drives the bladed point of it into the lock. The feeble craftsmanship seemingly crumbles apart, breaking down the middle.
Achilles grins over at Noctis, waiting for praise. Or thanks. Whichever. ]
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But the way in which Achilles chooses to approach this problem immediately captures his full attention, blue eyes widening as he stares at him in muted awe. ]
That was-- What kind of weapon is that? You just summoned that yourself? How? [ A rushed flurry of questions as he leans over to try to get a better look at the spear, far more interested now in that. ]
... Cool... [ quietly ]
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You're acting as though you've never seen a spear before. [ Sorry, but he's going to draw the stave back and rest it over his shoulder, effectively obstructing Noctis' little inspection. ]
I'm a Heroic Spirit. All my weapons are manifested by mana.
Now, are you going in?
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Of course I've seen one... [ But what he has to say after seems to shift Noctis's mood, no longer craning to get a look as he allows this new information to sink in. His body's still inclined towards Achilles's for a moment, raising a hand as if he wants to punctuate a few words with a gesture but... just allows it to fall dismissively, shaking his head.
So it's not what he thought. ]
Yeah, yeah, I got it. [ Finally Noctis is turning away to pull at creaking doors, carefully easing one back and letting it rest fully open before he's squinting down into the pit. Well, good thing he can somewhat prepared for this.
it's with a reach into his pocket that he withdraws what appears to be a simple glass flask, though it's obvious it's so much more by the yellow-orange tendrils of flame swirling within it as he holds it up to offer some light. ] Okay, stick close. [ He's Going In, already starting his descent after planting a foot on the first step. ]
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asshammerspace?He does enjoy the boyish curiosity for as long as it lasts, watching it fade from the younger man's eyes as the spear is drawn away from him as a clear "you can't touch it" message. Maybe he'll let you hold it later, if you're good.
The doors are cracked open, revealing a short flight of stairs leading to an underground cellar. He doesn't make a comment about the lantern, finding it a little too fancy to be a commodity sold in any of the marketplaces of France. Where the hell did he get that...
Anyway, he follows him, smirking to himself as he jokes: ]
Just tell me how close you want me.
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