agogelogs | let fury have the hour,

Entry tags:

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.

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.

oops papercut.

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.

and then everyone went home peacefully

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

oops you might have saved the life of a woman famous for dying???

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

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[ arrival/wildcard ]

[As his human friends might say: not this shit again.

Of course, there are a number of things alarming about this particular scenario. One, he does not remember how he got here, or enlisting in this... COST organization, and he doesn't believe anything he's been told for a second. Two, he is human, and attempting to return to his natural form... does nothing.

He has to struggle greatly to clamp down the anxiety that flutters in his chest at that idea. There are too many variables in play for him to automatically assume he's become trapped as human. This could easily be another Ellimist game, or there is some kind of field in place preventing him from demorphing, or...

Or he's a nothlit. But panicking about that isn't productive, now. First, he needs to figure out why he is here, and what is really going on. And the only way he can do that, it seems, is to play along.

Good thing he has so much experience pretending to be human already! They will never know the difference.]

[ riots ]

[Here is the main problem with being stuck as human: the body has no natural defenses. Aximili has past learned to respect humanity's capacity for ingenuity and stubbornness, but really, it is ridiculous how soft and fragile they are.

He has also past learned to be wary of humanity's capacity for violence, especially towards themselves. The fact that he looks to be just as human as they are doesn't seem to matter, nor does the fact that he's on the younger side, and obviously trying to steer clear of the violence.

Maybe it's not so surprising: to any observer it's clear there's something a little strange with him. He has a wide-eyed, blank look on his face that makes him look perpetually startled, he behaves with an almost eerie, polite calmness despite all the chaos going on around him, and he apparently has shit balance: as soon as anyone bumps into him he goes comically sprawling.

The next person to look at him funny he greets by throwing up his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. He remembers seeing people do that on television.]

I have no problems with your actions. I support the death of your king.

[He follows this up, comically, with:] King-uh.

[ aftermath ]

[As he had when he found himself before in a situation very similar to this one, Aximili decides that he has had quite enough of humans and their nonsense for the time being.

He manages to take shelter in an abandoned storefront, long since burgled by passing opportunists, and settles himself in the wreckage and out of sight as best he can. His heart is pounding, his legs are shaking--he hates how intensely humans feel every negative emotion, and the thought nearly brings the panic he'd been struggling to keep a lid on since he arrived to the fore. He's just as confused now as he was when he got here. He's alone; his friends could be captured or dead for all he knows, or perhaps they were never brought here in the first place. He doesn't trust anyone he's met so far here, including this COST. It's possible he's stuck like this, as human, and will be forever, and the prospect is so horrifying that he'd consider taking his tail-blade to his own throat if he still had it.

He is very, very glad he is alone right now (as far as he knows), because how he is acting is not befitting a warrior at all. To his own horror he actually curls up where he's sitting and buries his head in his knees, struggling to keep calm. It is very curious how efficiently humans can fold themselves up when they need to, and there's a certain comfort in it.

He'll let himself indulge, since no one else is around.]

[Kylar is decked out in the civilian clothes left for him. These civilians wear shoes! They must be doing all right for themselves, or this is just the "middle class" outfit.

He spots the other young man in the hallway. Kylar, too, has been looking about for information. He's managed some, but can't hurt to gather more. Either way, he should weigh allies and enemies.]

Lost or just killing time?

[He says it with a half smile. They're supposed to blend in and with the way this guy moseys.. well. Could maybe use some help.]

Time is an abstract concept and cannot be killed.

[It comes out automatically, apparently without him even realizing who's speaking with him. Belatedly, he reminds himself about human idioms, and that it is possibly dangerous to be so noticeable here.

Time for damage control.]

Yes. I am killing time in an idiomatic sense.

[Nailed it.]

Okay... sure.

[Well, this guy sounds like he'll be great for conversation.

Not.

Kylar merely shrugs.]

I've heard these people are executing their King soon. Pretty sure that doesn't happen too often, should be a lot of people around.

[Hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.]

[Yes, the implant had said something about revolutions. He resists the urge to crinkle his nose in distaste, and reminds himself that Andalite society had been quite barbaric once. In its own way.

What would a human say here?]

Should we be preventing the execution of this king?

[He stops himself from playing with the word execution just in time.]

[Kylar looks casual even as he tries to listen for anyone else in the Hall. It is a damn good thing no one else appears to be around or this would be turning south quickly.]

No, why bother?

[Geez, he was just trying to invite you to watch, man.]

[What, are you implying that Ax is not 100% convincing as a human.]

Then why did you bring it up?

It's a public event.

[What else are they supposed to do here anyways?]

You know anything about the King?

No.

[Should... he...]

Is he an important figure at this point in time?

Do they not have Kings where you're from?

[It's hardly incredulity, merely surprise. This is certainly a different sort of place than where he's from but there are enough similarities for him to fit in more snugly. He just never imagined other places could be so starkly different.]

[By this point, having watched the paltry defenses of the palace guard almost willingly buckle before the crowd and allow the riot of the common people into the very halls they were meant to protect, Ashitaka is feeling very similarly. After doing everything he could to get a woman who had once been a queen and her children out of ruined vestiges of their former luxury, after having seen so many people so willing to direct their hate to this figurehead of their inequity despite any clear line of fault between them, he simply felt tired. None of it was rational; none of it made sense. Innocents died just so others could stand upon their corpses and feel tall. He'd hoped hundreds of years into the future, he would find that people had grown more compassionate than he had found within the walls of Irontown, but it seemed only the opposite had managed to happen.

After what had happened at the palace, he had set off into the streets. For the most part he has deliberately chosen a path devoid of others, though occasionally he can hear shouts, cries of anger at supposed counter-revolutionaries or secret loyalists to the royals. There is a part of him that yearns to help, to safeguard innocent lives as best he could, but side of him driving him forward now accepted that it would be impossible.

Later, he wouldn't really be able to recall what exactly brought him into the store, hollowed out from looting and riots. Perhaps it had been a twinge to the demon mark that twisted around his right side; it reacted to fear and pain, like a slavering beast reacting to blood, but the whole city was awash in that, so it's difficult to know for sure.

Regardless of reason, Ashitaka finds his attention drawn to the building, and careful inspection yields the young man crouched and hiding inside.

He is still at first, then slow to move, taking a few careful steps forward before he lowers himself to kneel a short distance away. His hands are empty, outstretched in a pacifying gesture. Once Ashitaka had worn a palace guard uniform, but since then he had torn away all distinguishing pieces; it was hardly recognizable now, marred as it was with dust and dirt and a few splashes of dried blood.] Are you hurt? [Ashitaka looks tired, though there is genuine concern written on his face as well.

It seems he can't quite quell that part of him that wants to help whenever possible.]

[The first thing Aximili feels is a cowardly urge to bolt, to hide the shameful way he's acting from observers. Thankfully he doesn't, as that would be probably disastrous for whatever cover he's trying to maintain. He tells himself that he is just acting the part of the scared child that most people think he is.

Totally just an act.]

I am uninjured. [He lifts his head up to look directly at Ashitaka, trying his best to look helpless and frightened.] I'm just very scared.

[Regardless of its veracity, Ashitaka is fairly easily convinced that he's frightened—even without the verbal confirmation. He nods as reassuringly as he can manage.] It would be stranger if you were not. [It's good that he is uninjured, though; he could help bind minor wounds, but anything past that would require different attention.

He reaches into a pocket on his jacket and produces something, showing what it was to the young man before offering it. It was a waterskin, slightly worse for wear but still in-tact.] Water. [He nods again.] Even if you do not feel thirsty, you should drink.

[Fear tended to make the body forget about other necessities.]

[Aximili takes the waterskin, eyeing it dubiously--he's unfamiliar with this sort of container (and he's struck again by how needlessly complicated humans always insist on making things; why have multiple types of anything when just one will suffice?), and he isn't particularly thirsty anyway.

But he has to do something, because Ashitaka is watching him and he's supposed to be acting like a regular human. So don't mind him if he sort of

chews on it a bit.

It reminds him of the time he'd attempted to eat shoes. The reactions of his teammates had indicated they were not meant to be edible, which means the same is probably true of this. So he stops.]

I am Philip. [He says, as if he hadn't just done something completely bizarre.]

[So far, Aximili had been doing a pretty good job at convincing Ashitaka that he was human. He looked human, and hiding from the unrest and violence out in the streets was also a fairly normal response.

Chewing on the offered waterskin, however, did dampen that human impression.

Ashitaka's usually quite impassive, so his expression only takes on a few more shades of confusion for a moment before he seems to accept it. He holds out his hand in a halting gesture.] Keep it. [Maybe if he holds onto it he'll figure out how to get it to work... hopefully before he actually needed it.]

You are not from here, are you, Philip?

[Because he's starting to strongly get that sense.]

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let fury have the hour,

Ax | Animorphs | TDM

Wildcard-Let's say Hallway of the place they woke up in??

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aftermath!

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sorry for the delay!!

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