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Dr Archeville

[Time Warp] Viva La Revolution! (Rene de Saens)

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“Oh no…not again!†mumbled Rene to himself. Around him, a horde of armed Frenchman were assailing a grand Chateux. Musketfire, shouting, and the smell of burning buildings (lit by the horde’s flaming torches) assailed his senses.

 

The day had started off so pleasantly. Rene had been taking a stroll in the park, the weather was good, the birds had been singing, and even the city air had seemed cleaner and fresher than was its normal, acceptable but flawed, nature.

 

And then, wham! He didn’t even know what had hit him. Nothing that his extraordinary visions detected anyway. The next thing he knew, he was stumbling across a pebbled pavement to the tune of an enraged rabble.

 

It was all so familiar. The French Revolution. He had fought in it himself, as a young man. And now he had been catapaulted through time to relive the horror.

 

With a cold feeling, Rene looked down at his clothes. 21st century, flecked with some antiquarian taste, and all good quality. He looked up, into the eyes of an angry mob, armed with pitchforks, flintlocks, and torches. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t technically dressed as an aristocrat. But his clothes were odd and well made. That was probably good enough for a rabble with blood on their minds – and on their hands too, he suspected.

 

“Good friends†he started. “I can explain everything!†he started. Could he? Could he?.

 

No. But he could try. “Long live the revolution!†he continued, waving his fist in the air. “Long live France!â€

 

Forcing his beating heart to slow down, he started his gambit. Perhaps too fast, and perhaps too gabbled. “I have come here today, dear friends, to fight the glorious fight. All day yesterday, I have spied on the vile aristocrats, hiding in their midst! And now I come to you, the brave people of France, to lead you to the final victory against the…errr…â€

 

He stumbled. The crowd glared back at him.

 

“…the Baron…the Baron Le *cough cough splutter* he finished, forcing a series of coughs and gasped breathing.

 

He raised one eye. The crowd glared back at him.

 

“Non?†he asked rhetrorically.

 

His answer was a surge of people, waving makeshift weapons and screaming for revenge and blood.

 

“Non†he conceded to himself, bringing out his magic paintbrush. He had better not screw this one up. The adrenaline both helped and hindered. With a magnificent sweep of his arm, ending with a flourish of his fingers, the brush erupted with invisible magic and a wave of complete darkness washed over both the Crowd and the Magician, enveloping them.

 

Darkness was no problem for Rene. His eyes weren’t much good these days anyway, and he relied more and more on his mystic senses. Scuttling away, he sidestepped the mob and darted into a ramshackle burnt out building. At some point it had been a stable, and some agitated horses still loitered in confusion inside it.

 

"Horses heh?" Said Rene, stroking his beard. “Its been quite a while…†he muttered to himself as he approached what looked like the most virile specimen. “But I think I can remember…â€

 

He groaned as he mounted the steed. It would play havoc with his back and rear (he remembered) but it felt rather exciting to ride again. As the darkness ebbed away, Rene pointed his horse to the hills, and recalled the old lessons he had had, and the times he had ridden. It was a bit foggy, but he thought he could say the art of Equestrianism had returned.

 

With a gallop and a shout of exhilaration, Rene sped off to the hills, as far away, and as fast away, as possible from the mindless Rabble who had threatened him.

 

“Magnificent†he yelled to himself, oblivious to his aching muscles. Despite the danger, he was enjoying himself.

 

As he rode, he spied another shimmering in the distance. A rip in the landscape that could not be natural. Shaking his head, the memory came back. That rip had thrown him back to this time – and now, he swore, it would return him.

 

“Stay there!†he yelled at the time tunnel. “I have a bone to pick with you!†he swore, as the horse charged at full pace towards the anomaly. It surely did not hear or understand Rene – and surely was no more sentient than the rocks it floated over, but it seemed to obey the venerable mystics command, for it remained quite still as Rene rode straight into it...

 

...and into modern day Freedom City. The birds still sang, the sun still shone, and the air was still clean. But, to make a picture even more dramatic, Rene was now trotting across the Park on top of a magnificent stallion.

 

“Good day†said Rene to an amazed couple he passed, doffing his beret at them.

 

Good day indeed.

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