PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Jun 4, 2013 10:49:31 GMT -5
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Paul-François [style=text-align: right]DARKNESS, DARKNESS LONG AND LONESOME, IS THE DAY THAT BRINGS ME HERE I HAVE FELT THE EDGE OF SADNESS I HAVE KNOWN THE DEPTHS OF FEAR DARKNESS, DARKNESS BE MY BLANKET, COVER ME WITH ENDLESS NIGHT TAKE AWAY THIS PAIN OF KNOWING FILL THIS EMPTINESS WITH LIGHT |
[/font][/size][/style] chauvelin 
Chauvelin's alert gaze spotted the distinctive figure of Sir Percy across the camp-turned-battlefield, and he regarded his nemesis with surprise and some annoyance. What the hell was he doing here, of all places? he thought, momentarily distracted. Granted, the Englishman was perennially poking his nose into French business, but always driven by his blind allegiance to his fellow aristos.
That thought brought his mind back to the girl ... Helene ... his daughter. The concept was still new and strange to him, but he pushed his discomfort with it to the side. Despite her mother's low social status and the stigma of her illegitimate birth, she'd clearly been raised to at least the bourgeoisie, or even the nobility. He was simultaneously grateful to whatever unknown man had done that and resentful at his place as her father being usurped. He knew the latter emotion was stupid and unjust, but it ate at him anyway.
Percy was mounting up and coming his way -- of course, the old spymaster thought sarcastically, because the day had been going so splendidly already. And Helene was shouting at him, demanding that he tell her where the Henri was, doubtless so she could go charging blindly off to join him. Because 'God was on their side. And 'she wasn't afraid to die.' Which was exactly what would happen if she knew where to find the reckless jackass she was so enamored of.
Chauvelin was a fairly even-tempered man, almost impossible to truly enrage. Had he been otherwise, he would have died of apoplexy long since from the Pimpernel's antics alone. That wasn't to say he didn't feel things strongly, including anger such as he was experiencing at that moment, but he wasn't given to ranting and raving.
His fury was fueled by fear and he knew it, but he kept both emotions veiled behind his urbane mask. Only a certain edge to his voice and the flintiness of his blue-green eyes hinted at his exasperation as he spoke. "Did you think this would be easy, child? That you could simply wave your high ideals about like banners and usher in a glorious new day? You mount an armed rebellion and are surprised when armed men fight back, when not only your enemies bleed and die?"
Chauvelin had survived forty years of brutal and treacherous French politics and his eloquent snort summed up every minute of them. "Welcome to the revolution."
[/left] TAG -- Helene
NOTES – If someone mentions gunpowder, I expect Percy can figure it outlyrics from DARKNESS, DARKNESS by ROBERT PLANTmade by ANYA of caution 2.0 [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY
The League Of The Pimpernel
The Scarlet Pimpernel
Posts: 101
Joined: Dec 27, 2012 15:18:00 GMT -5
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Post by SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY on Jun 9, 2013 7:52:10 GMT -5
 [style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 406 WORDS FOR EVERYONE I not sure percy would have said that, but its the only way i can think to get helene marching off soon xD PERCY [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]
The camp was in utter chaos, it was clear the rebels had not been prepared for such an invasion. Percy’s goal was set purely on reaching Chauvelin and hopefully putting a fox in his henhouse. His wife’s voice followed him on the wind that blew through the camp, disturbing the leaves someone had painstakingly swept into a tall pile. Percy was in his element as he passed several rebels, gathering to shoot any of the attackers they could. His thoroughbred bay horse - a particular favourite of his- did not scare easily and reacted to the slightest instruction Percy gave with the heel of his boot, as he passed the group of men, his sharp ears picked up the some of the fragmented phrases they were shouting at each other.
‘Gunpowder!...Can’t be far!...Essonne!..’
Percy frowned wondering how exactly gunpowder at Essonne could help the men now; Percy knew he had to be extremely careful he was trifling with two enemies. But he wagered if he could find the girl in all the chaos, he could easily spirit her away and have her safely on the Daydream by tomorrow’s nightfall. ‘Well, well, well’ Percy said jovially as he dismounted his bay holding it at an angle that shielded him from one half of the camp. His blue eyes fell on the girl who was stood by Chauvelin, looking exactly how Percy felt when he was observing the state of Chauvelin’s cravat – disgusted and angry, with a small touch of disappointment.
‘Visiting with the pigs are we Shuffle-On? I must say that’s uncanny hard on the pigs but you look right at home’ Percy said brightly, stifling a smile as looked down on the captive joyfully. This was too perfect!
If there was one thing Percy did not do, it was assume anything, his right hand was ready to reach for his sword or the gun fixed onto his belt at any moment. ‘Tell me Chauvelin, why are the men mentioning Gunpowder and Esonne? How many camp members are likely to have gone there?’ Percy had a talent for reading people, and there were two reasons for him asking such a question. He was curious as to the girl stood talking to Chauvelin, while her camp was facing the gunfire of Chauvelins men, and he found Chauvelin an interesting character to read, his reaction may or may not help Percy decide how to find the correct girl quickly.
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Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: Nov 22, 2024 19:18:54 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 10, 2013 17:11:05 GMT -5
Marguerite had had quite enough of standing around. She knew that it was dangerous, but she was in just as much danger standing around here as she was over there. Someone could spot them in either place. And anyway, she hadn't come here just so she could sit around while Percy did everything. She had wanted to be of use to him. Saving his life might be a good way to make herself useful. Ignoring Andrew's shouts telling her to stop, she had mounted her horse and taken off across the field, seeing as how the man had dispatched the soldiers who had been shooting. In all odds, some of the men might have just been hiding in wait, but she did not feel any bullets pierce her, so she assumed she was safe enough.
She knew she could not assume anything else about this rendezvous, especially when Chauvelin was involved; he was always a wild card. She was safe enough from the soldiers, but she could never quite tell if she was safe around him. True, he had saved her perhaps that night at the ball from Sylvie St-Cyr. For all Marguerite knew, however, he had nefarious purposes in doing that, too. Once, the danger and mystery around Chauvelin had been alluring; now, it only frightened her a little.
Not so much as it would have, of course, if Percy hadn't been there. She caught up to them and heard her husband begin to question her former lover about gunpowder and Esonne. There was so much that she did not know... so much that she was sure Chauvelin had stored away. Getting the information out of him would be the trick. She looked at her husband – who would be mollified if he knew that his cravat had gotten slightly askew during the dramatic ride – and then back to Chauvelin. “Please, you must tell us,” she said urgently. She hoped she did not sound as desperate as she did demanding, even though that was how she felt. “There is a girl we are trying to rescue. This isn't about politics, it's a matter of life and death.”
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Post by HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU on Jun 11, 2013 10:47:22 GMT -5
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Helene glared at Chauvelin with hatred; he was deliberately not answering her question and infuriating her beyond belief. If she had had more violent tendencies, Chauvelin would certainly be close to pushing her to harm him. Before she had a chance to respond, a gentleman dismounted from a large bay horse. It was obvious before he even spoke he was English, his attire screamed English Aristocrat, which was confirmed the moment he opened his mouth and a southen drawl fell from his lips.
She looked from the gentleman to Chauvelin curiously, it was clear they had met before, but from the look on Chauvelin’s face, Helene guessed they were not the best of friends. Her mind was reeling over everything she knew up to this moment, trying to piece together all the possibilities of where Henri could have gone to. Her only plan, if she couldn’t find out where he was, would be to hide near one of the main roads and watch and wait for his return, but that wasn’t the best idea. He could easily return by a smaller road, and she could simply be discovered by Chauvelins men.
It was at that crucial thought the Englishman’s words worked their way into her consciousness. Gunpowder…Essonne…of course! Henri would have taken some of the men to try to acquire supplies! For a brief moment she was hurt he would leave for such a risky mission and not tell her, but she understood why he would refrain. She was renowned for her impulsive actions. ‘Henri…’ the words fell from her lips before she had realised she had spoken out loud. It was a long ride to Essonne, but Helene was a fast rider and she knew she had to warn him before he was captured. His capture would mean his execution.
Not pausing to take notice or hear the woman that arrived only moments after the gentleman, Helene turned on her heels and was racing for the nearest horse. It was unsaddled, but its bridle was still in place. It would be enough to get her there. Dodging bullets she pulled herself awkwardly onto the already spooked horse, one leg either side of the horse, not worrying if a little bit of her leg was exposed above her boots. With her head low fearing being shot at, she galloped from the camp towards the road that lead to Essonne. She clung awkwardly to the horse. It was sheer determination and a little skill in horse riding, that stopped her from being thrust from the horse onto floor.
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Jun 30, 2013 23:24:27 GMT -5
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Paul-François [style=text-align: right]DARKNESS, DARKNESS LONG AND LONESOME, IS THE DAY THAT BRINGS ME HERE I HAVE FELT THE EDGE OF SADNESS I HAVE KNOWN THE DEPTHS OF FEAR DARKNESS, DARKNESS BE MY BLANKET, COVER ME WITH ENDLESS NIGHT TAKE AWAY THIS PAIN OF KNOWING FILL THIS EMPTINESS WITH LIGHT |
[/font][/size][/style] chauvelin
Chauvelin rolled his eyes, sighing at Percy's usual schoolyard taunts. Did the man really think that some Englishman mispronouncing a French name was the height of devastating wit? Especially when it was for the dozenth time? His manner already in full sardonic flower from dealing with the aggravation of Helene, the old spymaster shook his head in amusement, arching an eyebrow at the question that accompanied Blakeney's comments. "And you ask me because I'm so clearly in their very deepest confidence," he replied, mockery in every syllable.
The Pimpernel's presence was unexpected, but fortuitous in a way. In the current political climate, moving directly against an aristocrat -- even an English one -- would have been problematic at best. But a foreign lord who got hurt, or even killed, in the course of choosing assist avowed rebels against French troops? Well, that was another matter entirely, and a quick glance around showed those troops closing in on every side, save for a small gap where the Sacred Heart had been concentrating its fire.
Margo's arrival at Percy's side was briefly even more surprising -- Blakeney wasn't the brainless fop he appeared, he had more sense than to bring her into a war zone. But then his former lover's stubborn willfulness came to mind and, had it not been for the way protecting both her and Helene complicated an already-difficult operation, he would have laughed aloud.
As it was, Paul let a nearly-beatific smile appear on his face. Eyes crinkling at the corners, he said, "A girl, is it? Well, she must be an aristocrat, as your fine husband here would never stir himself from his estate to help some mere peasant -- unless, of course, he got a pretty ornament for his arm out of it." It was a stab at both of them, as well as serving to emphasize to Helene the hated social class of the new arrivals.
In truth, he was curious whom they were seeking, since it was possibly the same child marquesse he'd come here for, but he couldn't ask outright. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't come at it sideways. "I'd be delighted to help, of course," he said, "but I'll need more information. Tell me all about this girl. Have a seat. Take your time."
Then Helene suddenly up and kicked over the proverbial applecart by bolting, and only Chauvelin's tight control over his temper kept him from swearing aloud. As it was, his expression darkened for a fleeting moment before the mask of insouciance slipped seamlessly back into place. Improvising a new plan on the spot, he tsked with feigned nonchalance, and said, "Her, perhaps? Lack of fashion" (or any other, he amended mentally) "sense aside, she's certainly gently born."
He didn't know whether she was the girl the Blakeneys were seeking or not, but he didn't much care. Wild-eyed republican though she might be, she would be safe enough with the Pimpernel regardless -- and there was a certain deliciously bitter irony to it.
[/left] TAG -- Percy
NOTES – bwahahahalyrics from DARKNESS, DARKNESS by ROBERT PLANTmade by ANYA of caution 2.0 [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY
The League Of The Pimpernel
The Scarlet Pimpernel
Posts: 101
Joined: Dec 27, 2012 15:18:00 GMT -5
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Post by SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY on Jul 6, 2013 14:24:58 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 417 WORDS FOR EVERYONE  Moving forward! Woo! PERCY [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]
Percy should have known his wife would not be able to sit back and watch for more than a moment. He could see her in his mind’s eye, fretting from the side-lines, thinking she was able to assist in some way. Now wasn’t exactly her time, not with the danger or sensitivity of the mission, but these things were sometimes hard for Margot, especially if she thought he was in any kind of danger. His eye’s widened for a second as he saw the figure of his wife crossing the felid her head low as she ventured towards them. His dark eyes scanned the meadow for any sign of attack, his hand twitching towards the gun, but she was safe the guards were preoccupied with the men that were rallying against them.
His eyes swept back to Chauvelin as he studied his face, his wife’s words washing over him. Zounds! He really must speak to her about secrecy; she might as well just tell Chauvelin every little plan. This was mighty intolerable! His frustration showed for only brief moment before his eyes darted to the young girl who suddenly upped and raced to the nearest horse. She mounted the animal and rode from the camp…on his words…Essonne. His hands moved quickly to his pistol, covering the child as she raced from the camp. He did not like to see lives wasted, but he couldn’t allow for someone to shoot her dead for betraying the crown, despite his personal thoughts.
Chauvelins words barely made a mark upon Percy’s mind, which was savaged by every gunshot, every moment that could put his wife, Andrew or the girl he was seeking in danger. He couldn’t bear to think what would happen to the people rounded up by Chauvelins men; he had to keep his mind on the mission. Small steps.
Perhaps that what the child he was looking for…he thought as he watched her speed way. Putting his gun back he turned to take him his nemesis. ‘Rochambeau?’ he asked quickly ignoring sarcastic French tosh that spilled from Chauvelins lips. ‘Damn that girl!’ he added with frustration, if he was correct then the girl could quite possibly be racing to her death. He could not fail this mission.
Beckoning to Margot, he mounted his horse, signalling to Andrew to join him on the other side of the camp, ensuring Margot was covered he followed the girls path to Essonne. The Pimpernel rides again…he thought not sparing a thought for Chauvelin. No doubt he'd be hot on his heels, but Chauvelin was nothing but a weed trying to suffercate him...with great care he would be nothing but a mere bump in the road for the Pimpernel.
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Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: Nov 22, 2024 19:18:54 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2013 18:26:45 GMT -5
Margo had spoken without thinking. She just wanted to save the girl, that was all. But she hadn't realized that she might be putting the girl or Percy into danger. If he didn't know where she was, then he wouldn't know what girl she was talking about, and if he did know where she was, then perhaps he would tell them. Perhaps he would want to save her too. There were many instances in her life when she had thought that she no longer knew Paul as long as she had once thought that she did, but if there was one thing that was still the same about him, he wanted to save her life. He loved her. Perhaps he still had some good left in him. That did not mean that she should underestimate him, of course; that was a very dangerous thing to do.
But speaking of dangerous, she had other things to worry about. Alreay Percy was racing off. “Percy is an honorable man who does not allow any innocents to die – unlike you!” she spat in return. So much for expecting help. The girl was running. Take your time, Chauv had said. They didn't have any more time! She groaned in exasperation. It was never easy to go from a standstill in a large and constricting dress into a run, even though she had chosen to wear a dress that was somewhat more suitable for travel than her usual ones might be. It was all the more difficult now that she was pregnant, and if she wasn't wearing this loose dress, it would be evident to someone who looked closely.
Still, she had to. She was looking for the horse, trying to scramble aboard, but it was a struggle. The horse was already anxious and wasn't standing still the same way that he would like her to. For another thing, it was hard to get up into the saddle. Impatiently, she looked around for a log or something to use for a mounting block. Finally she dragged the horse over to a rock, trying to get into the saddle and go after Percy.
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Jul 24, 2013 12:16:29 GMT -5
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Paul-François [style=text-align: right]DARKNESS, DARKNESS LONG AND LONESOME, IS THE DAY THAT BRINGS ME HERE I HAVE FELT THE EDGE OF SADNESS I HAVE KNOWN THE DEPTHS OF FEAR DARKNESS, DARKNESS BE MY BLANKET, COVER ME WITH ENDLESS NIGHT TAKE AWAY THIS PAIN OF KNOWING FILL THIS EMPTINESS WITH LIGHT |
[/font][/size][/style] chauvelin
Rochambeau Chauvelin thought, filing the name away. Lisette's village would have been part of that marquisate. The Marquis de Rochambeau preferred to keep to his lands, so the old spymaster didn't know much about him, but the little he did conformed to the sort of freethinking iconoclast who would take a peasant girl to wife. Well, the Marquis de Chauvelin thought, smiling a little, at least she'd been raised to the proper station.
Then the smile disappeared as Margo gathered up her skirts and ran after Percy. The accusation that she flung at him stung a little, but it was nothing compared to his aggravation and anguish with the whole situation. Despite knowing it was useless, he strained at the leather strips binding his wrists as he twisted around, scanning the situation. Helene was already out of sight. Percy was mounted and headed in the same direction the girl had gone. Even as he watched, Margo dragged a horse over to a boulder, the Englishman named Andrew trotting rapidly over to help her mount.
Muttering a combination of prayers and imprecations under his breath, the devout atheist looked around for his own mount. Abraxas was there, and even saddled, not far away, but the Lipizzaner might as well have been on the moon as long as he was tethered to this wretched post. Teeth gritted, he was forced to stand still and watch helplessly as the woman he still loved scrambled to escape the incoming tide of soldiers. His own soldiers.
It was only when she was at a full gallop and safely out of range that he realized he'd been holding his breath. Letting it out in a sigh of relief, he drew in another slowly, struggling to force himself back toward calm. Still, his gaze remained fixed on the now empty path her -- and Helene's -- flight had taken.
Then, as if summoned, by his desperate thoughts, Fumier appeared at his side, small knife already in hand.
[/left] TAG -- Percy
NOTES – et finis?lyrics from DARKNESS, DARKNESS by ROBERT PLANTmade by ANYA of caution 2.0 [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Moving forward! Woo!