PandaNES II - Les Fleurs du Mal
- Thread starter Insane_Panda
- Start date
das
Regeneration In Process
Ah, no, if you read carefully (and if I didn't accidentally forget that part...) that was only one part of the invasion. The other part we still could've launched. Ah well, no real harm done.
I don't have a real border with Portugal, and there aren't any Austrians in the Atlantic Ocean, so you can feel safe.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
So why did Qing China not get any negative results? I mean, whenever I'm Qing China and try to do the same thing bad things happen... 
Insane_Panda
Deity
It shall happen sometime. Right now, the Qing are merely recieving knowledge from foriegn advisors.
Grandmaster
Deity
Prussia reiterates its previous declarations of war against the French rebels. Prettier words and more eloquent statements relating to the execution of Louis XVI to follow tomorrow.
das
Regeneration In Process
"The blood of criminals fertilises the soil of liberty and establishes power on sure foundations."
Thus wrote the man reffered to by the superstitious (and who of those who survived in Ville affranchie wasn't?) simply as "Citoyen F.", from the city that was once called Lyon.
Only a few months before he wrote that in his usual rhetorical manner, Lyon was still a city. Nay, it was more than just a city - it was the second greatest city of France. It was not a political capital; but it was the capital of France's commerce, banking and industry. And when the National Convention was assembled in Paris, and set about to unite the country around itself, and when the province begun to resist and rise up - it was only natural that Lyons was to become also the capital of the resistance to the young Republic. And when reports begun to arrive about the king's execution and the agitators begun calling for all power and wealth to go to the poor, and for the fat bourgoise and aristocracy to be slaughtered... the reponse was predictable. Instead of slaughtering the city's elite, no matter how hated, by the orders of Paris, the Lyonese masses did rise up - and did slaughter all the Jacobin agitators, and threw the arch-Jacobin priest Chalieux into prison. They raised the fleurs-de-lys, set up the barricades, levied the militias, burned effigies of Robespierre and as for all the letters he sent ordering them to release Chalieux and surrender... well, the crude, but innovative Occitan middle class found a use for these letters as well.
And already, Alexis de la Argent rushed with his forces to meet up with Lyonese rebels; and already, volunteers from the countryside rushed to form their batallions as well. When the Bastille fell, Paris was filled with revolutionary fervour; now, Lyon was full of reactionary fervour, and loudly, the masses cheered when the unskilled executor rolled out the guillotine sent to Lyon just after the revolution, half-rusted though it was, and cut, and cut, and cut at the neck of the insane fanatic, martyr number one of the Revolution, the priest Chalieux. At last, the mangled remnants of his head were severed from his body by a good old cut with the sword. And the public cheered again, rushing to dip blankets in the rabble-rouser's blood, and no longer being intimidated by his accusing, demented eyes. Lyon fit la guerre à la République.
Only all this was too late. Even before accounts of Chalieux' brutal death reached Paris, the armies of the Republic already were on the march. For far from all disobeyed it. The citizens of Marseilles, for instance, were only glad to lead their inter-urban feud with Lyons to a final conclusion. Seized by a revolutionary fervour, the soldiers and the proletarians there burned effigies of the king, and raised the tricolour, formed their battalions, and marched to water the fields in Rhone's valley with the impure blood of de la Argent.
Two powerful forces of spirit clashed; passions of reaction and revolution converged on Brotto Field outside of the city, and two armies clashed. Only, the revolutionaries had better organization; they had more weapons and more ammunition; and there were just too many of them, coming from all directions, as not only Marseilles was overcome with Jacobinism and simple, basic hatred and envy for the rich, arrogant bourgoise capital of Occitania, the dark portal from which all the evil came into the world. So de la Argent was cut into pieces, his corpse and the corpses of all the Lyonese defenders who didn't flee fast enough were thrown into the Rhone, and the torn and worn fleur-de-lyses were all burned. Then the soldiers charged into Lyon, shouting the rage-filled words of the Marseillaise, torching buildings and raping women at random, and celebrating the victory of freedom and of the Republic.
Lyon fit la guerre à la République, Lyon n'est plus.
---
And yet... even then Lyon survived. The defeat of the insurrection, the victory of the revolution and the military reprisals... it was all like a flood. Devastating, disastrous, terrible - but nothing that a big city and its people can't recover from. A random, blind force - indeed, just like a flood - it had naturally destroyed only the most vulnerable buildings and customs. Chaos is eternal and powerful - but its very chaotic nature is a weakness, and blind fury is not enough to trully destroy anything that had been built up over centuries.
Yet the Convention's orders were quite clear. Lugdunum Delenda Est. And so just as Lyon was beginning to recover, a new storm broke out over the city all of the sudden. Only this one was ruthlessly controlled, and used methodically to crush all resistance. Blind fury is a powerful force, just like fire. But how much more powerful and potent is fire in human hands when compared to its free state! Blind fury is good; controlled rage is far better.
And so on a dark and sullen day, a huddled, shame-faced, terrified crowd was gathered to greet a chariot freshly arrived from Paris, on the great central square of Lyon, Place Bellecour. Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois emerged from the chariot, a slender, aristocratic man. In his perfect, theatric voice (after all, one of the reasons he was sent here was a personal one - before the Revolution he was the director and sometime actor of a rich, prestigious playhouse in Lyon, and as such came under much criticism from the city's noveau-riche elite), he announced that Challieux shall be avenged, that all the wrongdoers shall be punished severely. At first stunned by this surprising, most unwanted guest, the crowd soon recovered, and many sighed in relief; this man was full of zeal and determination, but he was not all that frightening at all. Sure, Lyon will be his theatre for a few years, but that was survivable; already under the temporary military government, the people of Lyon learned to be good actors and play the parts of loyal, newly-liberated masses despite in truth holding the values of the Revolution in deep contempt. Then another man emerged from the chariot, and the people gasped.
A very thin, tall, sickly pale man emerged from the chariot. He seemed bloodless, and definitely was cold-blooded even if he had any blood in him. He was ugly - he had thin, dry colourless lips, a sharply-pointed nose, bored fish-like eyes, scarce hair. His face was a mask of rage and perhaps even insanity - but the most observant quickly realized that behind this mask... there was nothing, only an eternal, all-consuming calmness, a cold, superior intellect and a single, but dominating desire, which, however, none would guess for centuries and think it was a desire for power, or for human blood, or perhaps that there was no desire at all, that it was only attributed to him by them due to their lack of ability to comprehend a desire-less being.
The crowd was silent as Citoyen F. emerged from the chariot. Collot d'Herbois' speech stopped, as Citoyen F. took his place near him. Citoyen F. walked through the crowd - and all that he approached were first paralyzed by primal fear, and then only came to life when he neared, at which point they jumped back in fear, ran, only to avoid meeting his gaze and feeling his cold touch. Slowly, steadily, Citoyen F. approached the makeshift altar in the middle of the square. There, a newly-made bust of Challieux was made. It was clearly far more alive and human than the man looking at it. Citoyen F. did not turn around when he begun HIS speech.
"Chalieux, Chalieux, you are no longer with us! Criminals sacrificed you, o martyr of freedom, and may the blood of those criminals be the sacrifice of redemption that will calm your enraged shadow. Chalieux! Chalieux!" - there seemed to be much feeling in his voice, an overcoming stream of rage and hatred, but in truth... in truth there was nothing - "Before your image we swear to avenge the torture, and may the smouldering blood of the aristocrats be thy frankincense."
The same oath was delivered by Collot d'Herbois, and all the others; but they were all ignored. The people were looking in terror at Citoyen F., for he turned around once more, and gazed at them impassionately - and yet, promisingly, promising with his eyes a reign of terror like none before, and at the moment, the not at all numerous survivors would swear, they saw it all - they saw the never-ending work of the guillotines, they saw the Mitrailledes at Brotto Field, where all those who survived the artillery barrage were cut into pieces by the swords of the cavalrymen, they saw mines being put under all the rich buildings, under the palaces and the banks, under the theatres and the salons - and they saw these buildings fly up to the sky, they saw not the river Rhone, for it was clogged with corpses. They saw everything, and that one moment was already enough to kill Lyon, break its entire population and create Ville affranchie. Citoyen F. knew that it enough, but turned it all into reality in any case, as he knew that his superiors will not understand this quite as well.
Blind fury is good; controlled rage is far better. But pure inhumanity, ruthlessness without emotion... yes, that was priceless.
Thus wrote the man reffered to by the superstitious (and who of those who survived in Ville affranchie wasn't?) simply as "Citoyen F.", from the city that was once called Lyon.
Only a few months before he wrote that in his usual rhetorical manner, Lyon was still a city. Nay, it was more than just a city - it was the second greatest city of France. It was not a political capital; but it was the capital of France's commerce, banking and industry. And when the National Convention was assembled in Paris, and set about to unite the country around itself, and when the province begun to resist and rise up - it was only natural that Lyons was to become also the capital of the resistance to the young Republic. And when reports begun to arrive about the king's execution and the agitators begun calling for all power and wealth to go to the poor, and for the fat bourgoise and aristocracy to be slaughtered... the reponse was predictable. Instead of slaughtering the city's elite, no matter how hated, by the orders of Paris, the Lyonese masses did rise up - and did slaughter all the Jacobin agitators, and threw the arch-Jacobin priest Chalieux into prison. They raised the fleurs-de-lys, set up the barricades, levied the militias, burned effigies of Robespierre and as for all the letters he sent ordering them to release Chalieux and surrender... well, the crude, but innovative Occitan middle class found a use for these letters as well.
And already, Alexis de la Argent rushed with his forces to meet up with Lyonese rebels; and already, volunteers from the countryside rushed to form their batallions as well. When the Bastille fell, Paris was filled with revolutionary fervour; now, Lyon was full of reactionary fervour, and loudly, the masses cheered when the unskilled executor rolled out the guillotine sent to Lyon just after the revolution, half-rusted though it was, and cut, and cut, and cut at the neck of the insane fanatic, martyr number one of the Revolution, the priest Chalieux. At last, the mangled remnants of his head were severed from his body by a good old cut with the sword. And the public cheered again, rushing to dip blankets in the rabble-rouser's blood, and no longer being intimidated by his accusing, demented eyes. Lyon fit la guerre à la République.
Only all this was too late. Even before accounts of Chalieux' brutal death reached Paris, the armies of the Republic already were on the march. For far from all disobeyed it. The citizens of Marseilles, for instance, were only glad to lead their inter-urban feud with Lyons to a final conclusion. Seized by a revolutionary fervour, the soldiers and the proletarians there burned effigies of the king, and raised the tricolour, formed their battalions, and marched to water the fields in Rhone's valley with the impure blood of de la Argent.
Two powerful forces of spirit clashed; passions of reaction and revolution converged on Brotto Field outside of the city, and two armies clashed. Only, the revolutionaries had better organization; they had more weapons and more ammunition; and there were just too many of them, coming from all directions, as not only Marseilles was overcome with Jacobinism and simple, basic hatred and envy for the rich, arrogant bourgoise capital of Occitania, the dark portal from which all the evil came into the world. So de la Argent was cut into pieces, his corpse and the corpses of all the Lyonese defenders who didn't flee fast enough were thrown into the Rhone, and the torn and worn fleur-de-lyses were all burned. Then the soldiers charged into Lyon, shouting the rage-filled words of the Marseillaise, torching buildings and raping women at random, and celebrating the victory of freedom and of the Republic.
Lyon fit la guerre à la République, Lyon n'est plus.
---
And yet... even then Lyon survived. The defeat of the insurrection, the victory of the revolution and the military reprisals... it was all like a flood. Devastating, disastrous, terrible - but nothing that a big city and its people can't recover from. A random, blind force - indeed, just like a flood - it had naturally destroyed only the most vulnerable buildings and customs. Chaos is eternal and powerful - but its very chaotic nature is a weakness, and blind fury is not enough to trully destroy anything that had been built up over centuries.
Yet the Convention's orders were quite clear. Lugdunum Delenda Est. And so just as Lyon was beginning to recover, a new storm broke out over the city all of the sudden. Only this one was ruthlessly controlled, and used methodically to crush all resistance. Blind fury is a powerful force, just like fire. But how much more powerful and potent is fire in human hands when compared to its free state! Blind fury is good; controlled rage is far better.
And so on a dark and sullen day, a huddled, shame-faced, terrified crowd was gathered to greet a chariot freshly arrived from Paris, on the great central square of Lyon, Place Bellecour. Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois emerged from the chariot, a slender, aristocratic man. In his perfect, theatric voice (after all, one of the reasons he was sent here was a personal one - before the Revolution he was the director and sometime actor of a rich, prestigious playhouse in Lyon, and as such came under much criticism from the city's noveau-riche elite), he announced that Challieux shall be avenged, that all the wrongdoers shall be punished severely. At first stunned by this surprising, most unwanted guest, the crowd soon recovered, and many sighed in relief; this man was full of zeal and determination, but he was not all that frightening at all. Sure, Lyon will be his theatre for a few years, but that was survivable; already under the temporary military government, the people of Lyon learned to be good actors and play the parts of loyal, newly-liberated masses despite in truth holding the values of the Revolution in deep contempt. Then another man emerged from the chariot, and the people gasped.
A very thin, tall, sickly pale man emerged from the chariot. He seemed bloodless, and definitely was cold-blooded even if he had any blood in him. He was ugly - he had thin, dry colourless lips, a sharply-pointed nose, bored fish-like eyes, scarce hair. His face was a mask of rage and perhaps even insanity - but the most observant quickly realized that behind this mask... there was nothing, only an eternal, all-consuming calmness, a cold, superior intellect and a single, but dominating desire, which, however, none would guess for centuries and think it was a desire for power, or for human blood, or perhaps that there was no desire at all, that it was only attributed to him by them due to their lack of ability to comprehend a desire-less being.
The crowd was silent as Citoyen F. emerged from the chariot. Collot d'Herbois' speech stopped, as Citoyen F. took his place near him. Citoyen F. walked through the crowd - and all that he approached were first paralyzed by primal fear, and then only came to life when he neared, at which point they jumped back in fear, ran, only to avoid meeting his gaze and feeling his cold touch. Slowly, steadily, Citoyen F. approached the makeshift altar in the middle of the square. There, a newly-made bust of Challieux was made. It was clearly far more alive and human than the man looking at it. Citoyen F. did not turn around when he begun HIS speech.
"Chalieux, Chalieux, you are no longer with us! Criminals sacrificed you, o martyr of freedom, and may the blood of those criminals be the sacrifice of redemption that will calm your enraged shadow. Chalieux! Chalieux!" - there seemed to be much feeling in his voice, an overcoming stream of rage and hatred, but in truth... in truth there was nothing - "Before your image we swear to avenge the torture, and may the smouldering blood of the aristocrats be thy frankincense."
The same oath was delivered by Collot d'Herbois, and all the others; but they were all ignored. The people were looking in terror at Citoyen F., for he turned around once more, and gazed at them impassionately - and yet, promisingly, promising with his eyes a reign of terror like none before, and at the moment, the not at all numerous survivors would swear, they saw it all - they saw the never-ending work of the guillotines, they saw the Mitrailledes at Brotto Field, where all those who survived the artillery barrage were cut into pieces by the swords of the cavalrymen, they saw mines being put under all the rich buildings, under the palaces and the banks, under the theatres and the salons - and they saw these buildings fly up to the sky, they saw not the river Rhone, for it was clogged with corpses. They saw everything, and that one moment was already enough to kill Lyon, break its entire population and create Ville affranchie. Citoyen F. knew that it enough, but turned it all into reality in any case, as he knew that his superiors will not understand this quite as well.
Blind fury is good; controlled rage is far better. But pure inhumanity, ruthlessness without emotion... yes, that was priceless.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: Out of curiosity, what has happened to Marquis de Lafeytte? Can't spell his name sorry das.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Wonderful story, das 
EDIT: It is The Marquis de Lafayette.
EDIT: It is The Marquis de Lafayette.
das
Regeneration In Process
As in OTL, brave sir Gilbert (yes, one of his many names IS Gilbert; the full name, according to Britannica, is: Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier, marquis de la Fayette) ran away and is presently in Austrian custody hiding from the evil revolutionaries, whom he tried to stop from actually overthrowing the monarchy, being himself a supporter of a parliamentary, "Orleanist" monarchy instead of a radical Jacobin republic.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
To Ottoman Empire
From Qajar Persia
We offer you a 5 turn NAP. (Did you ever accept this before
)
From Qajar Persia
We offer you a 5 turn NAP. (Did you ever accept this before
)
das
Regeneration In Process
Btw, only now noticed:
Actually, you were the one who rejected our generous, magnaminous peace offer that really didn't involve you losing several rich provinces and becoming a puppet at all.
Capulet said:
Actually, you were the one who rejected our generous, magnaminous peace offer that really didn't involve you losing several rich provinces and becoming a puppet at all.
Insane_Panda
Deity
TO: The Ottoman Empire
FROM: The Empire of Fez and Morocco, The Funj Sultanate of Sennar
We shall agree.
FROM: The Empire of Fez and Morocco, The Funj Sultanate of Sennar
We shall agree.
Insane_Panda
Deity
The vile Feuillant!
*strikes him down*
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: panda, you didn't list the UK and Oman NAP with Persia I listed it in my orders too!
@cuiv, okay, thanks
I listed it in my orders too!@cuiv, okay, thanks
das
Regeneration In Process
That's the spirit. A shame North King is hiding him... but Austrians aren't forever.
tommy_toon
Emperor
From King Christian VII of Denmark-Norway
To King Gustav IV Adolf of Sweden, King George III of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, King Charles IV of Spain, Queen Maria I of Portugal, and the pink and green nations to my south
These are perilous times in Europe, and as such we request a five year NAP so that we may maintain peaceful relations.
OOC: Just out of curiosity IP, do you prefer detailed or simple military orders?
To King Gustav IV Adolf of Sweden, King George III of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, King Charles IV of Spain, Queen Maria I of Portugal, and the pink and green nations to my south
These are perilous times in Europe, and as such we request a five year NAP so that we may maintain peaceful relations.
OOC: Just out of curiosity IP, do you prefer detailed or simple military orders?
Insane_Panda
Deity
detailed, preferably. Though not obsessively so.
Harleqin
Hippo Power
North King said:To: Bavaria
From: Austria
In light of your support for the revolutionaries in France, we declare war upon Bavaria.
OOC: Or kills your nation for you?
To: Austria
From: Bavaria
How rude. Here I invite you on a hunting trip and all. I am very disappointed.
OOC: No, just the leader thanks
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