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 France Score: 1815 Moves: 1815

> Let us march on Waterloo, old chap, and give those Frenchies a bloody run for their capital!

You march on Waterloo, mon ami.

> WAIT! what about Duke Wellington?

You never specified which side to fight for, so I assumed you meant the losing one. By the way, you do know what happens next, eh?

> Uh....

Let's just say Nappy needed reluctant, grudging, conscripts like you for his cannon fodder.

> No, wait! I like Paris!

Should have mentioned that to His Imperial Majesty before they charged.

It appears that the last blow was too much for you. I'm afraid that you are dead.

As you take your last breath, you feel relieved of your burdens. The feeling passes as you find yourself before the gates of Hell, where the spirits jeer at you and deny you entry. Your senses are disturbed. The objects in the dungeon appear indistinct, bleached of color, even unreal.

> examine me

You appear to be made of a translucent floating white substance. There seems to be a golden halo hovering above your head.