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

:'D i would say i am sorry but...

[scinlae]

[ In truth she barely notices him until she hears him speak, glancing over her shoulder to see the man in question attempt his escape. Of course, she thinks, the ants will flee only to return in greater numbers thinking themselves stronger, only to remain simply ants. She ought to see them bleed, take every inch of it for what they had intended, slowly until the lesson sinks into their very bones.

Morgana turns, suddenly, her eyes afire with a gold glow as the dagger suddenly shifts and jerks through the air. Her head moves, it flies through the air, moved by some sort of unseen force, and embeds itself in the ousted man's shoulder. Deep, through muscles and nerves, between cartilage and bone, the cry of pain is sweet to her ears that she smiles. ]

Don't go just yet, not before accepting my gift. [ Another glow and the blade digs deeper, another cry of pain. ] Please you must, it is only proper.

[ A pause, she spare a glance towards the man in the rimmed hat, her gaze lingering for a moment; not a threat, not one of them, perhaps not a friend but also not a enemy. It will do, for now. Her gaze moves again, back to Philippe and the dagger at his throat. It takes but a moment to drag across, to dig in and slice apart the flesh. Philippe's eyes widen and panics, hands going up to stop the sudden flow of blood that rushing out. It's swift, he deserves worse, she no longer cares to draw this out any further.

One, two moments pass and the man known as Philippe suddenly stops gasping, stops trying to hold his throat together, and slumps into a lifeless pile on the floor. She turns once more, face flicks with small prays of blood, to the other man, crossing the floor to take his face between her hands. ]

Consider your friend's corpse, that blade in your shoulder, before you seek to pillage anyone else.

NEVER BE, SWEATS

[dipolar]

(another step back when morgana whirls into a turn, the dress flowing with her. she certainly holds one image and defends it fiercely; she's far from a woman in distress and hei feels almost like he's treading onto a scene he shouldn't have. leaving her to her own devices is logical, fighting disembodied weapons is something he's done and didn't favour at the time. but the moment her attention cuts to him, he's stilling in the doorway.

no sudden movements, no reach for his own dagger. just a simple tilt to a shrouded face, dark eyes narrow.

it seems enough like an invitation that it ekes tension out of his body and leaves him to follow this game she plays like a macabre show, certainly a dark theatre he's watched before. morgana knows the ins and outs of murder, has clearly dipped her hands in it plenty of times — of course he'd never accuse her of wasting such a life-changing thing as feeling someone die under your thumbs on this frenchman who likely doesn't deserve the attention he's garnered himself.

hei's eyelids sink and he makes his first real lean forward, boots light on an upturned edge of rug runner.)

You could let him warn his compatriots. They'll stay away from this place. (a lift of the brim of his hat, bumped up by a knuckle,) It could be that's the only use for him now.

GENTLY PETS

[scinlae]

[ It's only when she hears Hei speaks that she looks up at him again, takes in her audience with an almost critical eye. A moment passes where nothing but the man's panicked gasps and the distant sounds of chaos fill her ears. Let him leave and his friends, war them about the woman with floating daggers. How she cut down Philippe. How she almost killed him as well.

Hmmm.

Gently she smooths down the other man's hair, his eyes wide with a feral sort of fear. A part of her wants to take her knife to his throat as well, to watch him bleed out onto the floor. It would be what he deserves, what Philippe had deserved. A swift pull is all she would have to do, dragging the blade across his throat before he has a chance to even think. For a moment it seems as though she might just do that, reaching for the dagger she had embedded in his shoulder ─ only to rip it from him instead. He lets out a pained cry, hand gripping his shoulder as he scrambles back a good couple of feet. ]

Go. [ Blood soaked blade in hand Morgana stands, taking a step back as she wipes the liquid from the dagger with her dress' sleeve. ] And pray we never cross paths again.

[ She doesn't see him leave, only hears the heavy footfalls and heavy breathing slowly fade from her hearing. In the end she got what she wanted, she claimed the life of the bastard who thought it wise to touch her. ]

Perhaps I ought to thank you. [ Morgana turns again, focuses briefly on Hei as she cleans the rest of the blade. ] There might have been more of them had you not warned me.

[dipolar]

(the man whose life's been spared on simple logic flees as quickly as he can, because he's wise enough to know that at morgana's back is still far from a safe place to be. he takes the closest exit, one hei'd been occupying until a decision was reached and one he steps in through and away from now. it gives this plunderer a wide berth to be thankful for, making short work of the stairs and good time out of the building. the look he wore out of the room was still far from relieved, which is satisfying to hei in itself, another human petrified in the face of magic and an overwhelming kind of power.

now he's left alone with morgana and the fresh corpse at her feet, eyes tracking from blood stains on floorboards to the dark fabric of her sleeve. then to the piercings along her collar. a bce, another COST member.)

No need, you just looked about through. (that said, now that he's certain she's not a native of this place, hei does what he came to this room to do and takes a heavy seat in one of the large chairs displaced from its vanity.) The less of them the better. We're to lie low until evac, but most places are overrun with the rats.

[scinlae]

Even so, you have my thanks.

[ In truth it wouldn't have been anything she couldn't handle, but had there been more the inevitable conflict would have left her far more exhausted than she is willing to be. The fact it was avoided by his intervention is enough to warrant genuine gratitude from Morgana. The blade clean she takes a moment to conceal it, leaning down to slide the dagger into one of her boots. She straightens again, this time focus solely on Hei.

Interesting.

Morgana watches him take a seat, seemingly getting himself as comfortable as he can. There is little else they can do, as he said, until evac takes them from this place. It was, in part, why she chose to come her of all places unaware of the stragglers that still remained. ]

How long must we wait?

[dipolar]

It seems they'll be arriving sometime tomorrow. Commander Grothia gave us twenty-four hours.

(he came to seek out something in the way of shelter from the madness outside, much the same as morgana did. to find her in a fight with the frenchmen— well, he's not impressed with how savage the city's become. it's safer and far less annoying to stay indoors and, as a fellow member of the same squadron, hei is fine with offering his services.

for now, anyway. he's just interested in sitting still for a little while. all of the running and dismantling guards has him tuckered.)

Who are you?