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

[horsepowered]

The please, or rather the tone that it got, was responded to with a sharp narrowing of the eyes. If he had the time to sit and play twenty questions, Chiron would have asked why the man was so insistent on staying, given his apparent disdain.

Better for all, there was no allowance for anything of the sort. Chiron simply went over to get what he needed, and was all sharp knees and pointed elbows any time someone crossed him. It was a matter of defense, and not wanting to get involved in any of the fighting himself.

Not that he couldn't handle it, just again, time.

The whole process took two minutes, if that. His return was hearlded by him breaking a sizeable plank of wood in two over his knee with a loud crack, and then crouching down besides the young woman.

"This is going to hurt, and I can't apologize for that. But better this than trying to move around." His eyes then went up to Sweeney for a beat.

"If you're inclined, can you provide a buffer in case something gets tossed over here? This is the only point where a disturbance would do genuine harm."

[macginger]

Sweeney sat by the woman the entire time. He didn't say anything to her, but he did hold her hand. She was young and she was frightened. This was the sort of thing that had never happened to her before and she didn't know either of the two men who spoke about her. But that was the thing about creatures from myth and legend. They weren't there to be feared, they were there to be a comfort. It was like putting on an old pair of boots to just be there for those brief few moments while Chiron was fighting.

By the time Chiron had turned back, Sweeney had taken his hand back and was standing again. He gave the centaur an irritated scowl.

"So long as you don't have to give the rest of those poor bastards medical treatment after, because they sure as hell need it after what you did."

[horsepowered]

"It'll be just bruises in the end," Chiron said easily when he returned. There was nothing to be gained by exerting any more force than he needed to, although there wasn't any ounce of shame in having gone against anything like the pre-Hippocratic Oath code. Whatever that had been in his own time.

Chiron then bent down and began to speak to his patient directly, first apologizing for the delay and then explaining exactly what was going to happen before he began any of the work. It wasn't the most well, advanced medical practice in the world, but right now it didn't have to be.

So he started with resetting the bone, and ignoring the absolute cry of agony that followed. His own face was hard set, tuning it out while he made sure the bones were where they ought to be.

The next part was far easier. With the wood, it was easy to improvise a splint, and with a lack of anything else, Chiron took off his own belt to make sure that the wood would stay in place. His hands moved quickly and steadily, the rest of the world completely ignored. Another monarch would loose their head at the moment and he wouldn't even notice.

And then the work was done. Chiron was satisfied with the matter, and then turned his attention to the last piece of wood that he had on his person. It'd...be a decent crutch, although one that would have to be replaced quickly enough.

His eyes went over to Sweeney finally, and he mouthed a simple thank you.

[macginger]

Sweeney did not get any particular enjoyment hearing the woman's wailing. In fact, he didn't even watch once the bone was snapped into place. He was no stranger to this sort of thing, but somehow living as long as he did never made it any easier. Just familiar, like an old itch that never seemed to fade away. But he did make at least a good buffer by generally standing around and putting on the appearance of the sort of person nobody would want to fight with. He was good at that, at least. People who looked at Sweeney were certainly not going to draw any indication that he was some sort of royalist.

Only when he heard the woman questioning Chiron did he turn around, just in time to catch the silent gratitude. Sweeney rolled his eyes.

"You done with her now? Can we go?"

[horsepowered]

It was the contradiction of attitude and the use of the word we that Chiron found a source of interest. In truth, there was no reason for the other man to feel any compulsion to stick around to begin with. Why he had done so was a mystery.

Chiron opened his mouth to respond, just as one of the woman's associates elbowed her own way through the crowd. The two began speaking rapidly, and that was the real indication that his services were no longer needed, as far as Chiron was concerned.

"You're free to do as you'd like," he said. One eyebrow was raised slightly, and he had zero qualms about asking his next question.

"Why do you insist on we?"

[macginger]

Sweeney watches impassively as the woman leaves because at the end of the day, he knows the next chapter of this story. He didn't have to be a fucking history student to know that the woman's chances of coming out on top was not pretty. But that was life. He turned his attention to Chiron.

"Because we're in the same fucking boat, you and me. Cause you sure as hell ain't French."

[horsepowered]

Chiron's face was impassive at the statement of the obvious, and his eyes focused on the riot. It was moving now, moving north with full intention to smash whatever was in the way. There was detritus in their wake -- broken bottles, smashed carts, rubbish -- and Chiron knew that this scene would be repeated throughout the streets of Paris.

"True enough. I've been dragged out of time and space."

Again, really.

[macginger]

"Right. That. Look." Sweeney paused when he thought someone was about to approach them, but the person seemed to lose interest and turned down a different way again. He turned back to Chiron and ran his hand across his cheeks.

"Look, the killed their king. I know that happened. I read it in a fucking newspaper. So we're done here, right? So we should be getting lost by now."

[horsepowered]

"I'd presume you're right," Chiron agreed, folding his arms across his chest and keeping them there. "But without any confirmation, there's nothing left but to watch the city ride out the aftermath."

It was not something Chiron wanted to do. He would be content to leave and not bear witness to the city devouring itself. But what he wanted and what was most likely to happen were opposites, and he knew which was more likely.

[macginger]

"What? Confirmation he's dead? Trust me. He's not getting up from that."

If there was a misunderstanding, it was entirely intentional. Sweeney couldn't imagine the mission having any parameters outside that or at the very least, refused to entertain the idea of there being anything else he was expected to do. Laying low was his modus operandi, with a side order of being able to hole up and find a stash to drink.

[horsepowered]

Chiron's face took a turn for the unimpressed. A thin mouth, eyes that questioned if he really just heard what he thought he did, and a general air of exasperation clouded around him.

"If you're insistent on doing what you wish to, then you're under no obligation to stick with me for the rest of the day. Doubtlessly there are places away from the city center that will be open and provide shelter from the riots."

[macginger]

Sweeney threw his hands in the air, his own cloud of exasperation threatening to form weather patterns with Chiron.

"Fine. I'm gone. But you get in a spit of trouble, you'll wish you'd had the sense to come along."

[horsepowered]

There have been worse storms in Chiron's life. His own demeanor is absolutely unperturbed by Sweeney's, having weathered far worse storms. Compared to the whole of Paris, this is easy.

"As you say then."

He gave a short, polite nod, and turned his back to Sweeney. His destination was unknown, but it would doubtlessly prove interesting.