"A sans culotte always has his sabre well-sharpened, ready to cut off the ears of all opponents of the Revolution."
~ Antoine-François Momoro
Night 2
The Parisian mob had always been the single greatest driver of the Revolution. From the storming of the Bastille in 1789, to the Women's March on Versailles which dragged Louis XVI and the royal family back to the city proper, from the unfortunate September Massacres, they were always present to remind people that while high political rhetoric was wonderful and all, ultimately it was their will that mattered the most. Despite this, the politicians and higher-ups always seemed to forget them, to take them for granted, after a while - at least until they struck again in the most spectacular way possible. Thus was the cycle renewed.
Was tonight the night they struck again? One street preacher was certainly doing the best to make this the case, gathering a larger and larger crowd as the evening wore on and whipping his listeners up into a greater and greater frenzy. Waxing poetic about the evils of nobility, avarice, and counter-Revolution, he finished off his harangue by demanding action.
"Go, my children! Go, you true fathers of the Revolution! Go out and remind them all that it was upon the backs and blood of the sans culottes that this country was built, and that they are beholden to you! Go forth and take back your Revolution!"
A primal roar of assent, emanating from the bellies of the mob and working their way up until it got out of their throats, greeted this. Weapons, both military-grade and handmade, clanged against each other. The torches came out. The sans culottes were on the march.
They marched through the streets of Paris, not really looting anything - this was not their style, after all, and shopkeepers were more likely than not to be one of them. They were focused. They were out for blood, ready to take back their revolution (from who, though, was never specified, nor was it thought about much), but they were focused. And, after about an hour's worth of walking and picking up even more like-minded people along the way, they had found their target.
BSmith was in his office, going over the latest reports of possible counterrevolutionaries and Royalist sympathizers from the various regions of France. Obviously Paris had the most - it was the biggest, after all, plus the most important - but nowhere in France was truly safe. The Vendée, in the midst of a nasty civil uprising, had its share, as did the problematic city of Lyon as well as most places in Brittany. Toulon, menaced by the British fleet, was another highlight. BSmith sighed. So much to do, so little time. Anybody who ever said that fomenting revolution was easy work was full of it, he decided.
As he pored over the papers and wrote down a few reports of his own, BSmith gradually became aware of an increasing noise that appeared to be drawing closer to him. At first he put it out of his mind, but as the volume only grew louder he finally put his papers down and made his way to a window.
Facing him was a giant mob, finally stopped after their long walk, torches held alight, weapons of all sorts raised, staring right back at him. The din stopped in an instant, now that the people realized that they were at their target. BSmith, meanwhile, paled. Him? Really him? It was probably him, he was the only person in this neighborhood who was a member of the Convention, at least to the best of his knowledge. But if him, why him? The sans culottes in the past had either targeted indiscriminately (like in the September Massacres) or else were at a member of the Royal family. What had BSmith possibly done to get this much attention from the people of Paris?
There was no sense in talking down the mob - after all, he had nothing to give them. There was also no sense in fighting - he couldn't guess their numbers, but knew there were a lot more of them then there was of him, plus they were armed. The best hope was to surrender immediately, throw himself on the mercy of the people of Paris, and try to sort things out later.
Gulping, he collected himself, walked away from the window, said a quick prayer, and then opened the front door, arms raised, ready to face the crowd.
It was a noble gesture, but a futile one. The sans culottes were not taking prisoners. BSmith was torn apart.
The work didn't take long. After about a minute or two of frenzy, the mob assembled outside BSmith's house cheered in victory upon the completion of their work. But they were not sated. After all, they had gathered this huge crowd, walked a decent portion of the city... all just for one man? Hadn't the speaker who had whipped up this mob told them to fully take back their Revolution? No, some of them reasoned. There was still work to be done.
The large crowd scattered in dozens of different groups, all going off and continuing their "takeback" in whichever way they saw best fit. Some of them went to taverns, deciding to liquor up before going elsewhere (or home). Some went to the fancy parts of town, looking to break into some houses and go through correspondences to see if there were any new Mirabeaus among the elite. Some went off in search of guards, looking to pick a fight. And some decided to just walk around, aiming to kill the first Convention member they came across.
This unlucky casualty of the wrath of the sans-culottes was Askthepizzaguy. Having attended the meeting of the Jacobin club earlier that night, he had lingered, wanting to discuss a private matter with one of the other members, and so was out on the streets when the mob came marching. Pizza heard them coming, took one look at their faces, and gulped. Unlike BSmith, he was under no such pretensions about what was about to happen, and he didn't spend any time particularly wondering about why.
He ran. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, perhaps one of the Parisian churches in hopes of invoking the ancient law of sanctuary, perhaps one of his friends' homes (or one of his enemies', if he judged a door and walls wouldn't stop the mob). In the meantime, though, he kept running, turning streets at random, hoping to just get away from the mob.
What Pizza didn't realize, though, was that this was not a unified mob. Had he come across the one large group earlier when they were going after BSmith, this would have been a good strategy. However, this was not earlier. Their initial purpose was broken. Now the people were just looking to kill at random. Now they were split into groups.
Rounding another corner, Pizza literally ran straight into a group of about a dozen. A few of them crumbled over in surprise, but more of them stayed on their feet, able to avoid the collision. They saw their companions rise and they also saw the newcomer, so pale and panicky, with the unmistakable dress and manner of someone who was in politics, who looked like he had been caught doing a very bad thing.
The last thing Askthepizzaguy saw was a set of eyes, full of righteous fury, illuminated by the glow of a torch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BSmith has been killed! He was:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Jacques Nicolas Billaud-Varenne, a Montagnard!
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Not a Royalist.
Askthepizzaguy has been killed! He was:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Charlotte Corday, a Girondin!
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Not a Royalist.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is now Day 3!
Voting will end Thursday, March 16 at 1:00 PM US Eastern time (GMT-4).
Feedback will go out shortly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still alive (15):
Al Sipsclar
autolycus
Choxorn
Csargo
Dp101
El Barto
Lewwyn
Manasi
Montmorency
NotACop
Renata
seireikhaan
Snerk
Winston Hughes
Zack
Killed:
Fenn
Monstrdude
Logic
Kagemusha
Arakhor
BSmith
Askthepizzaguy
Guillotined:
Jabbz
atheotes
"I'm going to die anyway, and therefore have nothing more to do except deliberately annoy Lemur." -Orb, in the chat
"Lemur. Even if he's innocent, he's a pain; so kill him." -Ignoramus
"I'm going to need to collect all of the rants about the guilty lemur, and put them in a pretty box with ponies and pink bows. Then I'm going to sprinkle sparkly magic dust on the box, and kiss it." -Lemur Mafia: Promoting peace and love since June 2006
Originally Posted by TosaInu
At times I read back my own posts [...]. It's not always clear at first glance.
Re: French Revolution Mafia [In Play]
Originally Posted by TosaInu
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