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

[dipolar]

(an arc of fluid, near-black in the blanket of night, paints the shingles. one soldier staggers and hei's reaction is immediate, taking advantage of the opening with a skirting of one arrow and a powerful run straight — at the second soldier, eyelids sinking into an expression narrowed and chilled and purposeful.

the billhook does what it's best at and hooks beneath thick leather of the archer's glove, parting skin and radial artery with startling ease. polishing such a rusty weapon had been almost a privilege, shaving it down on a conveniently uneven stone upended from the street, dull shine streaked by rivulets of blood. there's a short cry that's interrupted and ended wetly as the followthrough comes savagely, blade whipped up and across a bobbing throat.

what's left is a crumple of still bodies and the assassins left standing in the wake of things.

the threat remains, however, and hei's reorganizing his footing with a sliding step back and an oppressive stare.)

Stay there.

[handsomefoil]

[ Henry is surprised but not staggered by the turn of events, as the figure turns on the remaining soldier in a whipping blur. Elegant and bit showy, Henry can't help but feel a competetive twang in his bones. The soldier crumples in his arms, slowly choking on his own blood as Henry finished him off quickly with a swipe of the blade across his neck as well. He's already been upstaged, might as well get it over with.

Heeding the warning, he stays in his spot. His expression is almost pleasant, as if trying to ease the tension between them even if there is no such luck. The weight of the stare bores into him and the air is thick with it but slowly raises his hands. The knife clatters to the floor, though he is still armed with a device he doesn't dare bring out into the open air lest it boggle some poor local's brains so much that COST is forced to do damage control and possibly reprimand him for it. ]

Staying. [ Then after a beat:] That was quite impressive.

[dipolar]

(the compliment goes ignored. the knife that's dropped, however, is a rather respectful gesture that has him parting with one of his own. not the billhook, no, but a simple reassurance the man might value far more: he straightens slowly out of his ready coil and stashes his weapon with a plying of a red sash.

henry's stealth won't be something to underestimate — and how could he when he didn't spot him before blood bubbled from the gaps of the frenchman's teeth.)

They're dead, we're not. (that's all there is to it and he's thankful for the help, all things considered, frankly fucking tuckered from the events of the day.) Fools; the Queen's long gone.

(not something he knows to be fact, but he's heard rumours and he's been watching soldiers come up empty-handed for a long while now. she's either filling a gutter somewhere like her husband or in their care. somehow he knows to willingly place his bets on COST and their commanding officer, despite extraction being hours away.)

[handsomefoil]

[ Knives are pretty easy to come by here, so there's no real loss in it. Might even pick it up again if Hei doesn't get all skittish around him knowing he's got a weapon. In the meantime, he'll simply observe. ]

Y'think so?

[ He can only assume she's other one or the either as well, what with the state of things in the city and the palace itself. While he can only hope that she's dead and fulfilling her previous role of being a dead person at around this time period, a part of him is curious about what would happen if she did manage to escape... ]

Where'd you hear that from?

[dipolar]

Nowhere. (simply stated, lifting his chin a fraction to make an effort to glance away from henry and down to palisades.

they're installed well before the gates of the tuileries and the defences meant nothing in the end. not a whole hell of a lot can stop a swarm from doing as they please — especially an enraged one forming a crude hive-mind —, certainly not a small squad of trained soldiers with nothing but horses and spears.)

It's common sense.

(raising a hand against a broken parapet, thumb brushing over chipped marble.)

The mob was inside before General Lafayette arrived with his retinue. So were we.