Le Grenadiers de la Liberté are called into action.

Horrors of the Day

The unspeakable horror unfolds in this astounding tale of the last stand of the Grenadiers of the Guard de la Libertié.

1783 -During the time of The Reconciliation during the latter half of the 18th Century, trouble brews in the streets of Paris. The crops have been failing, and the farmers resort to superstition to explain their plight.

Amongst their blasphemous utterances, some claim that diseased plants have been growing in the darkest forests .... and spreading out towards the farmlands .. leaching poisonous filth and corruption into the very soil of France. Bespoiling the crops, and providing nesting havens for unwholesome blackbirds.

In the darkest shadows of the night, some townsfolk can be heard to utter the unmentionable name of the infamous Marquis de Chenoncoix ......

A Portrait of the infamous Marquis de Chenoncoix ... a man who is best forgotten for the sake of all that is decent.

It has been over 60 years now since his ghastly demise, and his name has been struck from memory.  All those who fell under his power all those years ago were burnt at the stake during The Change.

Why then does his name emerge once more, like bloated carrion that floats to the surface of an unhealthy pond ?




Such rumours of unwholesome botanical outgrowths from the darkest corners of the forests are met with swift punishment on the direct order of the Comte de la Bouvoir.

Le Comte de la Bouvoir - Civil governor of metropolitan Paris during the latter 18th Century. Known for his sound judgement, and swift sureness of action, he was a well respected figure in the intrigues of the Court.

It seems that not a day passes in Paris without some farmer or two meeting with Madame Guillotine to answer for his blasphemies and disturbing agitations regarding these so call 'out-growths'.

Too soon does the day arrive however, when one morning the town guard report that a new copse of trees has appeared, as if in the shadows of night .. and can be clearly seen from the town walls across the river Seine. A distinctly unwholesome copse of trees they appear to be .. certainly not of any known genus of botanical specimen comprehended by the creme of the scientific community.

The unusual botanical aberration that appeared outside of Paris on that fateful day.

As the day unfolds, and the sight of the copse is clear for all to see ... screams can be heard echoing through the less composed quarters of Paris.

The cursed name of the Marquis de Chenoncoix can be heard mentioned in the streets - and in plain daylight none the less ! Could it be that the forgotten horrors of the past are returning to stain the present ?

Desperately wanting to put an end to the growth of these festering rumours amongst the alarmed townsfolk, the Comte de la Bouviour orders a company of the famed Grenadiers de la Liberté to investigate this unusual copse of foliage.

A company of the Grenadiers de la Liberté approach the copse of woods.

Bravely facing the unknown, the Maj. in command of the company orders a full advance with the drums playing 'Sombre et Meuse'.

Using his field telescope, the commander boldly espies the nature of the aberration. It appears to be a cluster of trees of some kind. Nothing the Grenadiers cannot handle.

There appears to be some form of ropey substance hanging from the branches of the trees. This is most irregular indeed ! Possibly a type of vine imported from the hideous jungles of the Indies, or  from the dark recesses of the Congo.

Somewhat disturbed by the ropey substance hanging from the twisted branches, the commander orders fixed bayonets ... a torch to be lit. 'just in case'

Examination of the woods from all angles, one feels a deepening sense of dread, revulsion and despair. The geometry of the whole sends one to question their sanity. The dank smell of decay emanating from the woods invokes in one's mind those distant but suppressed memories of aeons past ... long before mankind or the earth upon which he stands was first created ...

... and in those moments of creation, where all tangible matter was first spewed forth into the vastness of the cosmos - like the regurgitations of a pale and sickly dog that lay dying in the shadowy corner of a nameless and forgotten charnal house. Inconsequential against the dank emptiness of the place, one only feels a hopeless sense of detachment ..

 .... to be continued.

PS:  The actual 18th C figures are on their way soon, another couple of weeks to go before be really get into this.