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

[fessus]

[ Well, that was easy.

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 ]

[chariotry]

[ Uh, why is Achilles eating this shit up. He snorts. ]

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?

[fessus]

[ The purposeful hiding of the weapon gets a little grunt of displeasure out of him, clicking his tongue. ]

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. ]

[chariotry]

[ What did you think, he pulled it out of his ass hammerspace?

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.

[fessus]

[ The spear is definitely still something he wants to look at but he can admit that a large portion of his enthusiasm was for something familiar, recognizing what he thought was Lucian magic and realizing it isn't forces him to wrestle with reality again. Stuck here, no memory of how it happened, no memory of why it happened, and just relying on word of mouth testimony that he abandoned his home willingly?

No wonder he's in an up and down mood. ]

Close enough that I can watch your back but not close enough that I can smell you. [ Easy.

Noctis lifts that makeshift nightlight (namedrop) higher to better illuminate the area they find themselves in as soon as they're out of stairs, light cast over shadowed racks and racks of-- ] Wine?

[chariotry]

[ Um, wow... What kind of a cold fox can completely shoulder his flirtations? This is worse than having Atalanta shut him down.

But with the news of wine, he brightens. ]

Wine? Isn't that perfect. I don't know a better way to relax.

[ Let's get crunk.

Also. ]

Do you smell that? ... [ A pause. ] Was that you?

[fessus]

A nap is a better way. [ Spoken largely under his breath, but with conviction. Yes, being unconscious is a good way to be relaxed.

He steps in further, peering at the largely unlabeled variety of bottles, when his nose starts to twitch with the same scent that had Achilles asking his question. ] Hah? ... No, don't you know what cheese smells like?

[ Fancy that, a prince who's accustomed to expensive smelly old cheeses. ] Help me find a better light. I don't wanna' hold this up forever. I don't think there's anybody down here...

[chariotry]

[ Oh, so he didn't fart. Good. ]

That doesn't smell like any cheese I've ever eaten. [ Wow... it's so putrid. He's going to have to stop breathing at this point, just so he can avoid the overwhelming smell.

He does cooperate. Finds a torch on the side of the wall and lifts it from the mount affixed to the wall. ]

[fessus]

[ Well, maybe they should've switched jobs... because while Noctis is used to fancy parties, he's definitely not used to drinking or sorting out his wines. So it's not surprising that he ends up straying after Achilles instead. ]

Looks like that should work. [ And before he has to deal with any protest he's reaching out to swipe that torch from him, raising the magic flask in his other hand until they're level. Perfect. It's not much for him to draw out a small amount of the magic he'd already stored in it just to transfer a coil of that fire to the torch instead, watching as it's set ablaze with a satisfied exhale. ]

Cool. We can use this one to light any others we find.

1/2

[chariotry]

[ He watches him, expecting that he pull out a match or something of that sort, but instead he's producing fire from his fingertips.

Delicious mana.]

You're a mage? [ Wait, why is he so surprised? He's encountered like ten of them within the organization of COST.

But... he's so exhausted that this provides an opportunity. ]

[chariotry]

[ Grins..... in the light of the flame. ]

[fessus]

[ Well, there's an unexpected question. Noctis has to deliberate over it for a moment. ]

Maa... I use magic, same as you. So I guess, something like that. [ That makes it sound like a video game, honestly, and it's somehow a pleasing title to add onto the ones he already has. ]

But don't make a weird face; I'm not gonna' fight you right now if that's what you're into. Here, finish up lighting the rest. [ As he shoves the torch back at Achilles, turning away from him with a hand smothering a yawn as he tucks away that flask. Maybe he can find water after all... ]

[chariotry]

[ Oh, no. You are so wrong, Noctis.

Considering the other magic users he's met up until now, he imagines he's not familiar with the ritual of the Holy Grail War. Ah, should he just be direct and ask, or be subtle? He doesn't really want to waste any time trying to build the mood, but -- ]

Okay? [ BOSSY PANTS?

Achilles has no choice but to take the torch, especially because he fully intends on getting laid in this wine cellar now.

Time to go light those other torches, illuminating the cellar room and revealing the rows and rows of wine, and the rows of cheese behind the booze. ]

[fessus]

[ The questioning tone doesn't go unnoticed and it seems to make him more self-aware of his own actions, at least, glancing back over his shoulder. ]

I was gonna' go close up the entrance. If there's guys out there looking for a fight, better I deal with it since you're so out of it. [ Right. Still determined to protect Achilles, whatever that's worth and however laughable it may seem. He's a gentleman.

So that's exactly where he goes while his new compatriot lights up the cellar for them, luckily not met with more looters as he shuts the heavy doors before climbing back down the stairs. ] Is it really just cheese and wine? Geeze...

[chariotry]

[ He snorts, though this time it's quiet. He wonders about the extent of this mage's powers, if he's so self-assured that he thinks he can take on a flock of angry revolutionaries on his own without draining himself. Achilles at least finds it more endearing than insulting, knowing well that he'd be able to use barely any of his reserves to fend off a couple of humans.

The cellar is chilly, though it's a few degrees higher than that of an actual cold storage. Achilles searches through the area, waving the torch over the various shelving units in case there are thieves attempting to hide in the darkness.

When the coast seems clear, he returns to the stairwell. ]

Meat would spoil in here, since it's not nearly cold enough.

But it's still fairly chilly. [ Thoughtfully. ] Why don't we crack open a bottle? Alcohol should keep you warm.

[fessus]

Yeah, guess so... Unless it was dried or something.

[ This is a world totally divorced from his own so he knows nothing about the time period and its apparent lack of advanced technology, or even any awareness of the country that they're in. The word "France" had meant nothing to him, honestly. ]

Really I was just thinking about water. Alcohol's... I don't know, you don't think that's a bad idea? Shouldn't we stay on high alert here?

... I'm not saying I can't handle it, just doesn't seem that smart. [ Stop him. ]

[chariotry]

[ Well, screw you. Achilles is plucking a bottle from out of a cubby, flipping it by its neck and catching the glass body of it against his palm. He's studying the label, kind of ... ignoring Noctis' concerns. ]

1754. Not bad. [ POPS THE CORK OUT WITH HIS THUMB. ] You sure you don't want any?

It's probably not even possible for me to get intoxicated. I just like the taste of good wine.

[fessus]

[ Ugh... He's parched but he can smell the sourness of the wine from here, deliberating. ]

Just a sip, I guess. I don't wanna' go overboard. [ For a lot of reasons. There's no way it'd be poisoned or anything, right? ] Even if you can't get drunk I'm not expecting you to take point the whole time. You're tired too.

[ So he says as he approaches the far wall, finally sliding down it with a slump just to get more comfortable on the floor. What a fucking day... ]

[chariotry]

[ Seeeettles right beside him, smiling, before taking a swig straight from the mouth of the bottle.

And he holds it out to Noctis. ]

Don't go acting so considerate of me. I can likely beat you in a fight even in my state right now.

I'm not worried about a mob coming for either of us.

[fessus]

Hah? [ His eyes drop to the bottle, reaching out to grab it with a hint of mild irritation. ]

You sure are arrogant... Well, if you're saying that then I hope you can do a whole lot more than summon a weapon. [ The wine smells even worse this close up but he refuses to allow that to stop him, not wanting to look even more ridiculous than he currently feels. So he forces down a swig the same way he does with coffee, and for nearly the same reason. To look more mature. ]

Here, that's all I needed.

[chariotry]

I'm no mage, but there's plenty I can do, especially in a fight. [ He... is arrogant. He acknowledges this with an unabashed grin. ]

Too strong for you? [ He's not trying to bait him, actually. He can just tell that he's pretty youthful and thereby unable to handle the bitter taste of a good, fermented drink. His smile softens, fond.

More for him, then. He takes the bottle. ]

[fessus]

[ At first he thinks he's asking if Achilles is too strong for him, ready to retort until he realizes he's talking about the wine. Oh. Yeah, that's pretty terrible. ]

It's pretty sour. [ Admittedly, and now the taste is lingering in his mouth. Ugh... ]

But I can handle it fine. Maybe I'll have some more later if I get thirsty. [ Instead he's sinking further against the wall, exhaling as he allows himself to really relax. ] ... this day's been crazy... If you want to sleep first, though, go ahead.

[chariotry]

I don't sleep. Or I guess I don't need to. I mentioned I was a spirit, didn't I?

[ But he is unravelling the cloth of his scarf from around his body and tossing it over the boy's lap. ]

Get some rest. I'm telling you, you shouldn't worry about me.

[fessus]

You mentioned a lot of stuff. And you summoned that weapon. [ Yeah, he's definitely tired, but he'll never forget that. It was cool as much as it was a disappointment, just one more little kick in the teeth courtesy of this shitty day.

He eases back, ready to close heavy eyes when that scarf is draped on him. ]

... [ A blink down at his lap, then another... before he's abruptly starting to wrap it around himself, immediately getting himself warmer. YES, THANK YOU. ] Only if you're sure. Just... shake me if somebody comes.

[chariotry]

[ WOW WHAT A SPOILED BRAT... LETTING ACHILLES TAKE CARE OF YOU, NOT KNOWING THAT YOU'LL OWE HIM EVENTUALLY.

Anyway, he's wrapping his arm around him without warning (cringe) and pulling him up against his shoulder. ]

You didn't ask any questions. Does that mean you've encountered many of my kind before? ... Maybe you already have a familiar.