ne t'en fais pas, mon chou.

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Agoge's second TDM! And welcome to Paris, everybody.
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

IT'LL BE FINE;

Paris, 1792: revolutionary france.

read the France setting infopages

arrival for veterans

For those who broke off from the army that fought at Valmy and returned to Paris, they come to a city bustling with life. Not only that, but they are greeted with nothing short of a hero's welcome. The tricolor is flown from every possible spot that can hold a flag, cockades are everywhere, and people cheer the names of the generals Dumouriez and Kellermann.

Simply saying you fought at Valmy is liable to get someone to buy you a drink, do you a favor, congradulate you, shake your hand. It's a great way to get shopkeepers to lower their prices, to get a low cost room, or just get someone to smile. Children will ask for stories of the fight. Grown men and women will ask to know what the generals were like.

Yes, you are undercover, yes, you are in the wrong time, and possibly the wrong universe, but for today? You are heroes.

arrival for new recruits

If you didn't fight at Valmy, it means you're new to COST. Maybe you agreed to work with them, maybe you don't remember. It doesn't matter. You wake up in a Parisian hotel room with a kind woman standing near the door, waiting for you to awaken.

You have none of your clothing, just black military-issued underwear, and none of your previous possessions beyond the one you chose (if you remember choosing) to bring with you.

The woman by the door speaks French, and if you didn't understand the language before, you do now. If you have questions as to what's going on, she'll answer: you are a member of COST, a paramilitary organization of time travelers fighting against the Regency, a tyrannous kingdom of the future who are trying to stamp out freedom and individuality in the name of peace.

She will provide you with the clothing necessary to fit in at this time, and show you how to use your BCE implant to look up information on this time period and its social and political mores. She won't let you leave until you're properly dressed to fit in, but once you are, she'll wish you luck.



MISSION OBJECTIVE

Unlike the last two missions you may have faced with COST, this one isn't as straight forward as a battle. This is about information-gathering, keeping your ear to the ground, and watching.

Paris during the revolution, even early days like this, is rife with paranoia. Though the heroes of Valmy are treated with huge respect and admiration, that is a huge exception to the rule, one that will fade with time.

As it stands, everyone expects counter-revolutionary spies sent from Prussia and the Holy Roman Empire, or simply French monarchists, to take what freedoms the people of Paris have wrested for themselves. Whispers abound. Suspicions mount.

It's in the midst of this that COST has received information that the Regency has placed its spies within Paris. Their aims are currently unknown, but it's suspected they have some sort of machinations for the King and Queen. Paris has declared itself a republic, free of monarchial control, but the Regency may have other aims. It's imperative that COST operatives keep an eye open for any and all signs of suspicion.

It's just difficult, because so is everyone else in Paris.



CELEBRATE

Paris is in an uproar, excited by the return of some of its great heroes, the fighters at Valmy. Even if you didn't actively participate in the battle, if you were there, if you contributed at all, someone will want to shake your hand.

Of course, there's always rumors, and there's little way to prove one was actually at Valmy in this premodern era. Accusing, or being accused, of lying about this tremendous day is an excellent way to get into a fight. Be careful.

coffee break

At this time, high spirits in Paris are a dangerous thing. So many people on the streets inevitably leads to trouble: a riot breaks out.

You see, the shipment of more coffee from San Domingo is late, and this increases the price of the coffee already on the market. This may not seem like much, but the average citizen in Paris is very poor, and works upwards of twelve hours daily, often doing back-breaking or repetitive labor. Coffee is an essential ingredient to get them through the day, a stimulant to keep them from dropping flat. Price increases are even worse, then, because of certain laws put in place to stop this from happening. In an attempt to aid the poor, the National Convention has put price laws in place, decreeing that goods such as food and coffee cannot rise above a certain price. In view of the shortages, merchants have ignored these laws.

So a riot breaks out. People break shop windows, attack businesses, and fights break out left and right. In the chaos, it's difficult to tell friend from foe, and you may be attacked by someone who, hours ago, was shaking your hand and congratulating you. You may get swept up in the riot without meaning to. Or, hell, maybe you want to cause a little chaos and break some windows yourself.

Regardless, a riot is a calamitous thing; be careful. While it doesn't cease all of Paris-- Paris is a big place, after all-- it certainly takes a fair percentage of the streets, especially near markets.

One thing, though. It's very odd. Often, when these shops are broken into and goods are stolen, money is left behind. Generally, it's not the amount the shopkeeper was asking-- often, it's exactly the lower amount decreed by the National Convention's ignored law.

WITNESS A BEHEADING

But neither the riot nor the celebration overtakes all of Paris. There are other things going on. Like a beheading.

Jacques Cazotte is one of the first victims of the Terror that will sweep France in a couple months, though he didn't know it at the time. He is a monarchist, though, the very definition of the feared 'counter-revolutionaries' everyone believes live in secret throughout France, seeking to undermine the Revolution at any cost. (Convenient, considering the definition of what precisely a 'counter-revolutionary' is constantly shifting).

Many gather to watch his death, and cheer when the guillotine falls. The executioner holds up his head for all to see when the act is completed, and some may notice the eyes still blink and roll in their sockets. The crowd gasps and jostles closer to see more, but after that, there isn't much fanfare. The body and its head are shoved into a cart and taken away to be buried. The event is over.

Still, the people discuss with great excitement, happy the filthy monarchist, the counter-revolutionary, is dead and gone, and France is that much safer.

PLANT A LIBERTY TREE

Liberty trees are popping up all over Paris, and everyone wants to plant one (if only to say they have). They're any kind of tree, and people are plopping them down in any bit of soil they can find. It's a symbol of the revolution, of patriotism, of loyalty, of whatever the planter wants it to be. Join in, or you'll inevitably be invited to the activity. It's a great way to get an ear to the ground for gossip, or just an idea of how things are going in the city.

LISTEN TO A SPEECH

France was just recently declared a republic after literally hundreds of years of unbroken absolutist monarchism. People are a little excited. Attend political clubs to listen to the speeches on the subject, all with their own perspective (but nearly all very much in favor of the republic). Or maybe you'll see someone speechifying on a street corner, throwing their ideas out to the masses. People are forthright about their political opinions, because they feel like, for the first time in history, their political opinions actually matter. It's pretty exciting, if you're into that sort of thing.

If not, feel free to let people know. Giving public speeches is an active process, and the speech makers are expected to be able to keep up with the crowd. Heckle, argue back, debate, start a fight, whatever.

The major things being debated are what, exactly, to do with the king and queen now that France is a republic. Should they be executed? Should they be brought down to normal citizenship? Should they serve as figureheads, like in England, making France a constitutional monarchy? Is that a step backward or forward? Everyone has an opinion, and everyone wants to hear it.

However, if you're lucky, you might catch the rare debate on other subjects: women's suffrage (still unheard of), the correct price for bread and coffee, what to do about the slaves in San Domingo, and which countries to invade in the upcoming war. It's all on the table.

read the France setting infopages

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

jotaro kujo / stardust crusaders / newb

[abstersive]

I. RIOT.

[ the problem with riots is that sometimes people who didn't want to get involved in them in the first place get dragged to it anyway, which means that jotaro is now doing crowd control so that kids and old ladies pass by through the busy streets unharmed. this was all going so well - he's tall and intimidating enough, after all - until one of the old ladies whacks him with an umbrella for not showing enough moral fibre. so jotaro just snarls. ]

Fuck's sake. I'm going to beat you up if you don't stop that, then you'll know where my moral fibre is.


II. BEHEADING.

[ he'd heard about this event, read enough history books and comic books to actually grasp it, hell, seen enough cartoons every sunday to know what it is. it's very different to watch it, however, and jotaro glances at the podium with the brim of his cap pulled near half-way down his face because he's terrified of what he's seeing, although he's not one to voice out exactly how that feels. his face is pale and grim.

the blade of the guillotine falls, and jotaro flinches as he watches the man, unable to tear his eyes from the spectacle; he hears a loud noise that grinds through skin and bone that was eventually drowned by the excitement of the crowd, but it sticks into his head. it's one thing to get into a fight. it's another to witness something like this, and try as he might, he can't forget it at all. can't put it behind his thoughts.

he staggers out of the crowd, as if in a dream, nauseous, angry that he couldn't do anything. right, or wrong, he only ever believed that true evil was the one deserving of death and what he just saw was a man like anybody else, only at the wrong side of the political spectrum. was that true evil? was that just?

when he thinks he's alone and there's nobody around him, he makes a swift turn to an alley to lean against the grimy wall. if he doesn't do anything he's going to puke his guts out. he takes out a cigarette and lights it and settles for smoking one after the other, a burning, sullen smokestack despising the crowd. ]


III. WILDCARD.

[ throw me anything. ]

riot.

[trample]

[ That very same old lady then receives a nudge to the small of her back with the far end of a crutch. ]

It's right here.

[ Surprisingly nimble for someone so aged, she manages to collapse in a fantastic display without heading into the ground face first. Eren might have clapped if his hand wasn't predisposed with holding something. Doing a quick few hops to regain his balance before swiftly bringing his support back, he shot Jotaro a dull glare that quickly turned into an even duller look of amusement as the hag started running away, screeching in angry French. ]

She did have a point, though. You should respect your elders. Just...not if they're breaking into your personal space.

[abstersive]

I'll have more respect for her if she didn't make my life difficult.

[ he's done helping people now, period. he glances at him. ] You doing okay, though? This place is a damn mess.

[ it's a riot, more or less, so maybe that's to be expected, but then again cairo was like this. hell, india was like this, too, although that one brings familiar aches and pains. ] Let's get out of here.

[trample]

Plenty okay. And this isn't where I got all my wounds from, don't worry. A riot's nothing compared to the trenches.

[ Eren would give his arm and his last leg to avoid going back there. Either way, with Jotaro guiding the way, he follows...wherever. Who knows where they go. France has got everything anyone from this era can wish for. Eren's still not satisfied, so he makes smalltalk along the way. ]

I'm surprised they let you out into the streets. You sure as hell don't look the part of a French guy. [ Eren does this awful gesture that exaggerates his awful stubble. Please shave him ] You're missing the 'stache.

assuming he's not her dad france au since. she's older than him.

[papilionoidea]

[it was kind of weird making the conscious choice to watch a man die and do nothing.

jolyne's not stupid, despite how she'd act to get out of trouble on occasion, she knows well enough that there wasn't anything she could do to stop the guillotine. even if she made a scene, attempted a daring escape, did something even more monumentally stupid than she could pretend to act it wouldn't have made a difference, it'd just be one more head on the chopping block.

still, the reason she didn't wasn't because it was impossible, she chose not to because she needed to keep her head down. breaking out of jail, on the run from some asshole agent of the church, all that dramatic nonsense- yeah, she chose to watch a man die because she valued her anonymity more than his life.

that was pretty fucked up, right?

she rubs her eyes as she escapes through the crowd, the perfect chance to steal a wallet or something so she could bring home something to her friends. might as well embrace being a criminal, right? she eyed her mark, some kid way too big to get away with chasing her down if she pulled a hysterical woman act should he catch her, and moved.

but then he headed away in a hurry, almost like he knew what she was up to. she frowned and followed.

by the time he darted into the alley she knew there was no point in trying to steal from him, but whatever, she was kind of curious about what spooked this big, scary guy enough to retreat. she's not entirely sure why she walks into the alley, slumping against the opposite wall and holding out a hand.]

Hey buddy, gotta spare there? Charity's good for the soul, you know.

[maybe she was just bored.]

[abstersive]

[ jotaro glances at down at this young rapscallion who apparently followed him out of the crowd. he then looks at his cigarette, and back to her, as if trying to decide how charitable he thinks he should be today, and then decides that he's going to walk away from this brat like the way he sort of did decades later with more stress and less excuses to begin with. ]

Guy breaks out a cigarette and people think he's a fun dispenser. Good grief.

Go find your parents and leave me alone. [ ah. ]

[papilionoidea]

[ah, some things never changed. jolyne was expecting as much, and not even because of future jotaro fathering skill. it a lot more had to do with how people generally were, and how big guys who thought they were tough were.]

I'm pretty sure I'm older than you, though it's hard to tell given you could be one of those attractions at the circus. You know, the strong man? [she smiles, just sweetly enough to be completely bullshit looking.] Try a moustache and the look's complete.

Look guy, think of it this way, one cigarette and I'll have something to do to shut me up.