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

[trample]

That's good. A fair way of looking at it, if I must say. [ Not something he could personally get behind, but an understandable position all the same. He rubs his chin as he thinks. ] It's easy to disconnect yourself from matters like these when you're so removed from home, after all.

This is all quite dated, to me. And, like you, I don't have much stock in anything going on here, besides the mission. Even that's pretty flaky given the state I'm in. [ He leans down to adjust his peg leg. If you could even call it that. He had, on a whim, snapped his crutch in half and tied the remains around his stump. It worked, but...it sure looked ghetto. ] What about you? Are you ready to fight wherever, whenever? Answering the call of duty at any opportunity?

[bloodings]

[ Mordred snorts. ] Don't make it sound so dramatic. Fighting is fun for me, that's all.

[ This is no Holy Grail War — the prize, if you can call it that, won't let her change the thing she wants, won't give her the wish she needs. But if the alternative is humanity's destruction, she has no choice. She can't be a king of nothing.

After a few seconds staring at his peg leg, she asks, incredulously: ]

Can you even fight like that? One push and you'll fall right over. [ And like the incredibly rude asshole she is, she goes to push his shoulder to demonstrate. ]

[trample]

[ Eren poses no threat, so obviously that's the first thing Mordred would do. All right. Okay. He's definitely not the slightest bit bitter she immediately jumps to that conclusion. Showing no resistance, he does at least one 360 before wobbling a bit and actually managing to stick the landing just about perfectly.

Though, there was exactly one problem, and that was at the foot end of his peg leg. Since they had been talking so long, the blood that flowed in between the cobblestones had already reached as far as the two of them. Eren was unfortunate enough to stick his support in there and promptly fell on his ass. ]

You must be thinking this is just hilarious. [ He grimaces as he forces himself to his feet, this time avoiding any slippages. ] I'd call you rude, but I'd probably be doing the same to you if you were in my shoes. [ Shoe? ] Albeit a little less...pushy.

[bloodings]

Really? You don't look like the type.

[ Read: he looks like less of a prick than she does. She smirks, but she at least has the decency to not laugh outright, subtly making sure nobody bumps into him while he regains his footing. ]

But you didn't answer my question. Can you fight? [ There's... not concern, exactly, but something approaching it in her voice. If he can't fight, then she won't tolerate him wandering into the front lines of a battle. ]

[trample]

Well, with someone shoving you, it's a lot harder for me to answer. And a lot less willing.

[ If he ever got a fancy new leg, the kind that doesn't slip on blood, he would be sure the first thing he'd do is pay her back. That aside, he takes a more serious tone, the inflection in her voice not passing him by. ]

It's never a matter of whether or not someone can or can't. Putting ability aside, it's whether or not they're willing to go headlong into hell for what they believe in.

[ His expression, if it's even possible, manages to grow glummer. ]

Most don't. Most simply want to survive. And if the only way to survive is by winning, they must fight. There isn't a 'can' anywhere in there.

[bloodings]

[ Eren why are you so miserable... oh wait. ]

So you can. [ Yes, she boiled down his entire speech into that. ] Good. It's a waste of my time worrying about people who can't fend for themselves.

[ If she doesn't care, then why would it be an issue at all... whatever. ]

Though, your appearance has its own advantages. Nobody would pay you any mind if you sat down to listen somewhere. [ At least in her experience. The rich might be disdainful of an injured beggar, but they wouldn't suspect him in the slightest. ]

[trample]

[ Listen. He's got his reasons to be miserable. Many reasons, actually. The same way Mordred has hers. Not that either of them know that much.

Somehow, her simple behavior manages to charm him. It's like if he were talking to a kid, except the kid is closer to his own age than he'd like to admit. As far as he knew, at least. ]

That's what I was going for, yeah. [ Thinking back on it, there was really no need to keep up appearances like this. He simply couldn't be bothered changing it anymore. Personal upkeep wasn't nearly as important to him as it used to be. ] Now that you mention it, I think I'll go and do just that, actually. The show's over.

[ He attempts a kind smile but it ends up looking...peculiar. So too does his wave. He's bad at sendoffs. Either way, before he starts walking, he leaves her with this: ]

It was nice talking. Do take care not to out yourself as royalty in times like these. You might end up as a spectacle all on your own.

[bloodings]

[ Mordred fights the urge to say something rude, or at least something about how she doesn't need a warning. But it's rare enough for people to look out for her in any way, and that cools her grumpiness somewhat. Congrats, Eren, she's at least marginally endeared. ]

Yeah, yeah. Take care not to trip and crack your skull open, old man.

[ She waves, but it's after she's already turned her back on him. Good thing she'll never see that guy again! ]