Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Zut alors!
I have no AIM...darn it.
I have no AIM...darn it.
NES2 V - The Great Game.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
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MjM
Deity
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
*sigh*
*Walks off to get AIM*
*Walks off to get AIM*
Kozmos
Jew Detective
No dont get it!AIM IS THE DEVIL!
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Cleric said:
Truly. Still no word from Conehead/China?
MjM
Deity
aim does suck. MSN is better, but like no one uses it :<
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
no, which worried me. Conehead, I would much apreciate at least some sort of a statement from you
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Sorry Panda, but AIM stubbornly refuses to work on my computer. Maybe we can talk through PM's.
Insane_Panda
Deity
PM me anything you need, and I shall reply.
Insane_Panda
Deity
IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME
The Fight for France by Jean-Louis Ernest Meissonier
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
- Chorus of La Marseillaise
~~~
"The year of 1866 was a dark year for France. Never in it's history had it witnessed defeat on such a grand scale. Never since the hundred years war did France witness so much of itself under invasion since a foriegn power and now, in 1866, it seemed that that same conflict was repeating itself, albiet through different circumstances. Yet the goals, for both sides of the conflict, were strikingly similar to that medieval conflict. For one side, it was the subjugation of France, and for another, it was the liberation of France. However, this war was not simply fought between the French and the English - it was fought all over the world. It would be a conflict unlike the world had ever seen. It would be a world conflict, a world war. "
-Adolphe Theirs, A History of Empire
~~~
MacMahon lit his cigarrette, and the flame illuminated his now gaunt face in the darkness of a Breton tavern called Bingo Crepescule, now renamed "Headquarters of the Armée pour la Defense Nationale". The war had made him tired, it had changed him, even. He was once a stalwart supporter of Imperial Conservatism, yet now, in the face of all this it had turned him not liberal, not even more conservative, it had simply made him French. The Empire was dead, that much he realised, and he no longer cared for it. What was left was simply France, and he had decided that he would do whatever in his power to save it.
He took a long drag on his cigarette while musing about such things, sitting under the dim candles of the tavern and watching his officers. Percival, the once sarcastic and witty Imperial official, had been reduced to a man of depression after witnessing first hand the slaughters in Paris and Normandy. However, Percival still retained his sharp political insticts. The same, sadly, could not be said of Louis-Phillipe or, as his friends knew him, Louis. He was prominent a captain of the Garde and a hero of the Italian campaigns, but had lost much of his arrogant swagger in this final fight, and now between battles, spent most of his time downing bottles of wine and cursing the english. His family, rich courtiers in the Imperial Court, had been butchered, and now, with nothing left to live for, he let himself slowly waste away - fighting as hard as he could by day, and drinking as hard as he could by night.
Lesser officers lingered in the taverns aswell, drinking as much wine as they could, to help make them forget what they had seen during the past few weeks. MacMahon, who had, in the beginning of the war, been promoted to the rank of Marechal, heard the thunderous, yet dull sound of artillery guns in the distance. The wine glasses which lined the tables gently shook. A soldier walked himself into a restroom with his pistol in his hand. He closed the door. MacMahon heard a shot, then a thud. No one bothered to move, they simply looked up, then at eachother with their dull, tired eyes, and went back to their drink and smoke.
Outside the tavern, on the streets of Caen and amidst the bloodsoaked tents filled with hundreds of wounded, a young man, rather boy, of about 16 years of age carried an envelope in his hand, sealed with the Imperial crest. Though he was so young, he too, was stained in dust and blood, and his naturally thin face had turned almost skeletal as dark circles formed under his eyes as a result of weeks of constant fighting. He navigated his way through the mass of tents, attempting to ignore the screams of those which lay on the innumerable stretchers and the lethargic, melancholic looks of the soldiers which stood and sat around those tents. At the entrance of Bingo, as it had been nicknamed, he was met by two Gendarmes sitting on an old bench. They looked at him, as if to see if he was worth getting up for, and then simply let him pass. As he entered the tavern, he was immediately taken aback by the smoke. His eyes began to water and he, having never smoked before, begin coughing loudly. Percival, noticing him, got up and asked him who he was.
"Who might you be?" He simply stated.
He stood there for a second, nervously looking for his envelope in the messenger bag which he carried accross his chest, stammered a bit, then spoke up.
"I am Manech Boulanger, M-Monsieur, Chasseur of the Imperial Postal Service. I have a message for the Marechal, a message of dire importance." He said, handing the creased, dirty envelope to Percival.
Percival noticed the Imperial seal, and ripped it open.
"Message from Dijon, sir. The Provisional government." He said to MacMahon, who had, along with Louis and all the other officers, stood up at the announcement of this.
Percival began to read -
This message, once read, elicited outrage from the men, whom before had seemed to care about nothing. Do not tell drunkards that they have fought for nothing, Percival thought to himself, and folded the letter, handing it to MacMahon. The men began to actively protest the letter. Murmurs filled the once silent Tavern and MacMahon, who had finished re reading the letter for himself, waved his hand and spoke up to silence them.
"Silence. There will be no surrender. Not today, not tomorrow, nor in the future after that. You," he paused, gesturing towards Manech the Messenger, "write this down. Tell the Provisional government that while we have heard their request, we will deny it, and that we will continue the fight for France. Furthermore, relay that I no longer shall listen to their authority, for the Imperial family is dead, and therefore they hold no legitimacy. The Garde and the Grande Armée will continue to fight, and we shall perservere."
The men, hearing this, began to appluad, and Louis, still sitting, began to hum an old war song, La Marseillaise, a song which had been banned under the Monarchy, yet revived by the Empire.
"Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé,
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Égorger nos fils et vos compagnes !"
Arise children of our fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us, tyranny,
Has raised its bloody flag,
Do you hear in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers?
They are coming into your midst
To slit the throats of your sons and wives!
Slowly, others began to sing, and soon after the tavern began immured with the thunderous boom of the soldier's voices.
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions!
Let us march, let us march!
Let impure blood,
Soak the furrows of our fields!
~~~
The Empire was dead, yet France, dear France, was still very much alive.
The Fight for France by Jean-Louis Ernest Meissonier
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
- Chorus of La Marseillaise
~~~
"The year of 1866 was a dark year for France. Never in it's history had it witnessed defeat on such a grand scale. Never since the hundred years war did France witness so much of itself under invasion since a foriegn power and now, in 1866, it seemed that that same conflict was repeating itself, albiet through different circumstances. Yet the goals, for both sides of the conflict, were strikingly similar to that medieval conflict. For one side, it was the subjugation of France, and for another, it was the liberation of France. However, this war was not simply fought between the French and the English - it was fought all over the world. It would be a conflict unlike the world had ever seen. It would be a world conflict, a world war. "
-Adolphe Theirs, A History of Empire
~~~
MacMahon lit his cigarrette, and the flame illuminated his now gaunt face in the darkness of a Breton tavern called Bingo Crepescule, now renamed "Headquarters of the Armée pour la Defense Nationale". The war had made him tired, it had changed him, even. He was once a stalwart supporter of Imperial Conservatism, yet now, in the face of all this it had turned him not liberal, not even more conservative, it had simply made him French. The Empire was dead, that much he realised, and he no longer cared for it. What was left was simply France, and he had decided that he would do whatever in his power to save it.
He took a long drag on his cigarette while musing about such things, sitting under the dim candles of the tavern and watching his officers. Percival, the once sarcastic and witty Imperial official, had been reduced to a man of depression after witnessing first hand the slaughters in Paris and Normandy. However, Percival still retained his sharp political insticts. The same, sadly, could not be said of Louis-Phillipe or, as his friends knew him, Louis. He was prominent a captain of the Garde and a hero of the Italian campaigns, but had lost much of his arrogant swagger in this final fight, and now between battles, spent most of his time downing bottles of wine and cursing the english. His family, rich courtiers in the Imperial Court, had been butchered, and now, with nothing left to live for, he let himself slowly waste away - fighting as hard as he could by day, and drinking as hard as he could by night.
Lesser officers lingered in the taverns aswell, drinking as much wine as they could, to help make them forget what they had seen during the past few weeks. MacMahon, who had, in the beginning of the war, been promoted to the rank of Marechal, heard the thunderous, yet dull sound of artillery guns in the distance. The wine glasses which lined the tables gently shook. A soldier walked himself into a restroom with his pistol in his hand. He closed the door. MacMahon heard a shot, then a thud. No one bothered to move, they simply looked up, then at eachother with their dull, tired eyes, and went back to their drink and smoke.
Outside the tavern, on the streets of Caen and amidst the bloodsoaked tents filled with hundreds of wounded, a young man, rather boy, of about 16 years of age carried an envelope in his hand, sealed with the Imperial crest. Though he was so young, he too, was stained in dust and blood, and his naturally thin face had turned almost skeletal as dark circles formed under his eyes as a result of weeks of constant fighting. He navigated his way through the mass of tents, attempting to ignore the screams of those which lay on the innumerable stretchers and the lethargic, melancholic looks of the soldiers which stood and sat around those tents. At the entrance of Bingo, as it had been nicknamed, he was met by two Gendarmes sitting on an old bench. They looked at him, as if to see if he was worth getting up for, and then simply let him pass. As he entered the tavern, he was immediately taken aback by the smoke. His eyes began to water and he, having never smoked before, begin coughing loudly. Percival, noticing him, got up and asked him who he was.
"Who might you be?" He simply stated.
He stood there for a second, nervously looking for his envelope in the messenger bag which he carried accross his chest, stammered a bit, then spoke up.
"I am Manech Boulanger, M-Monsieur, Chasseur of the Imperial Postal Service. I have a message for the Marechal, a message of dire importance." He said, handing the creased, dirty envelope to Percival.
Percival noticed the Imperial seal, and ripped it open.
"Message from Dijon, sir. The Provisional government." He said to MacMahon, who had, along with Louis and all the other officers, stood up at the announcement of this.
Percival began to read -
"We regret to inform you, Marechal MacMahon, Commander of the Garde Imperiale, that two days ago, in Versaille, l'Empereur and his family were brutally murdered by Federate assasins. With his royal Majesty dead, and with no clear heir to the throne, we believe the time for fighting is over, and that we must now negociate with the Federate Kingdoms.
We ask that you surrender your army and the Garde to the English, and report immediately to Dijon. May God bless you and may god bless the Empire.
- The Council of the Provisional Government"
We ask that you surrender your army and the Garde to the English, and report immediately to Dijon. May God bless you and may god bless the Empire.
- The Council of the Provisional Government"
This message, once read, elicited outrage from the men, whom before had seemed to care about nothing. Do not tell drunkards that they have fought for nothing, Percival thought to himself, and folded the letter, handing it to MacMahon. The men began to actively protest the letter. Murmurs filled the once silent Tavern and MacMahon, who had finished re reading the letter for himself, waved his hand and spoke up to silence them.
"Silence. There will be no surrender. Not today, not tomorrow, nor in the future after that. You," he paused, gesturing towards Manech the Messenger, "write this down. Tell the Provisional government that while we have heard their request, we will deny it, and that we will continue the fight for France. Furthermore, relay that I no longer shall listen to their authority, for the Imperial family is dead, and therefore they hold no legitimacy. The Garde and the Grande Armée will continue to fight, and we shall perservere."
The men, hearing this, began to appluad, and Louis, still sitting, began to hum an old war song, La Marseillaise, a song which had been banned under the Monarchy, yet revived by the Empire.
"Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé,
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Égorger nos fils et vos compagnes !"
Arise children of our fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us, tyranny,
Has raised its bloody flag,
Do you hear in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers?
They are coming into your midst
To slit the throats of your sons and wives!
Slowly, others began to sing, and soon after the tavern began immured with the thunderous boom of the soldier's voices.
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions!
Let us march, let us march!
Let impure blood,
Soak the furrows of our fields!
~~~
The Empire was dead, yet France, dear France, was still very much alive.
MjM
Deity
See, if only you helped when I was still an Empire. 
Insane_Panda
Deity
Edict of the Civil Defense No. 1
Issued by Le Maréchal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta
It is, with much trepidation, that following the incompetancy and inactivity of the Provisional Government of France against the Federate Invasion of the former French Empire, Marechal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta shall take command of the Defense Nationale aswell as the Garde Imperiale and the Grande Armée, in an effort to rid France and Spain of the Federate presence. France cannot surrender to our enemy unless we wish to see our fields ravished and our property taken away from us. Marechal MacMahon and the Army will not allow this to happen, and therefore order the formation of a new Provisional Government - Le conseil pour la Défense Nationale, to be lead by the Marechal and leading members of the Grande Armée. Furthermore, we announce that the Empire, until this war for France is resolved, is hereby disbanded and that the CDN shall act as the governing body for France and the French colonies abroad.
Edict of the Civil Defense No. 2
Issued by Le Maréchal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta
Le conseil pour la Défense Nationale, under the authority of Marechal MacMahon, hereby issues warrants for the arrest of all members of the Provisional Government of Dijon, for attempting to aid the enemy by surrendering and for crimes against the French people. Le Conseil will not allow Dijon to hand over France on a silver platter to the Federated Kingdoms and will continue the fight against such tyrants.
Issued by Le Maréchal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta
It is, with much trepidation, that following the incompetancy and inactivity of the Provisional Government of France against the Federate Invasion of the former French Empire, Marechal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta shall take command of the Defense Nationale aswell as the Garde Imperiale and the Grande Armée, in an effort to rid France and Spain of the Federate presence. France cannot surrender to our enemy unless we wish to see our fields ravished and our property taken away from us. Marechal MacMahon and the Army will not allow this to happen, and therefore order the formation of a new Provisional Government - Le conseil pour la Défense Nationale, to be lead by the Marechal and leading members of the Grande Armée. Furthermore, we announce that the Empire, until this war for France is resolved, is hereby disbanded and that the CDN shall act as the governing body for France and the French colonies abroad.
Edict of the Civil Defense No. 2
Issued by Le Maréchal Patrice Maurice de MacMahon, duc de Magenta
Le conseil pour la Défense Nationale, under the authority of Marechal MacMahon, hereby issues warrants for the arrest of all members of the Provisional Government of Dijon, for attempting to aid the enemy by surrendering and for crimes against the French people. Le Conseil will not allow Dijon to hand over France on a silver platter to the Federated Kingdoms and will continue the fight against such tyrants.
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
I like Panda's way of thinking:
Oh sh*t, France is in trouble! What do we do? Start a Civil War there!
Oh sh*t, France is in trouble! What do we do? Start a Civil War there!
MjM
Deity
wtfpwned.
Orders today hopefully.
Orders today hopefully.
das
Regeneration In Process
My idea I'm afraid - I was the one who compared MacMahon with Ataturk...
Insane_Panda
Deity
I doubt the Provisional government has much support Stormy, especially since MacMahon commands the Garde 
Insane_Panda
Deity
Message to General Eduard Lavoisier
Issued by the Conseil pour la Défense Nationale
We applaud your efforts against the Federate menace and ask that you support us in our same fight. We cannot allow France to surrender in these dark times, and we ask that you continue your fight in the colonies for France.
Message to the Colonies of Algiers and Nouvelle Gaulle
Issued by the Conseil pour la Défense Nationale
France must continue the fight against the Federate Menace, united under one banner. We ask that you continue to support the war, and continue to remain loyal to the French people.
Issued by the Conseil pour la Défense Nationale
We applaud your efforts against the Federate menace and ask that you support us in our same fight. We cannot allow France to surrender in these dark times, and we ask that you continue your fight in the colonies for France.
Message to the Colonies of Algiers and Nouvelle Gaulle
Issued by the Conseil pour la Défense Nationale
France must continue the fight against the Federate Menace, united under one banner. We ask that you continue to support the war, and continue to remain loyal to the French people.
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