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Dio last won the day on October 24 2016

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About Dio

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    The World
  • Birthday 08/11/1987

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    Computer stuff, political science, video games, table top games, good music, guns, airsoft.

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    Lev Nobleheart

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  1. Qing looked on quietly as the last of the dinner party filed in. Even the High Censor herself was among them, bearing a similar reaction that Qing had. She had yet to truly get to know most of them in her short time in Miss Yue’s employ. Between her organizational work and attempting to establish work relationships, Qing found herself overwhelmed at times. While she would have preferred to return to her quarters for a long soak in a hot bath with nary a soul to question her, Miss Yue’s dinner came first. She sighed. It was going to be a long night. But it was finally time to step out of the shadows for a moment. The head chef arrived with a massive assortment of foods, all of which made Qing’s mouth water in spite of her otherwise sated hunger. Miss Yue announced her selections, which were quickly brought to her by the servants. Qing glided silently to her side, leaning down and reaching with a wing for a pair of chopsticks with which to sample the Empress’ food. While taste-testing for poison was largely rendered obsolete by passive measures that did not result in the potential death or debilitation of palace staff, it was still tradition for the assistant to perform the taste test. Qing speculated that it was to keep the chefs on their hooves lest they displease the Empress. In any case, she was at little risk of harm; if anything she was in a happy position to taste the first fruits of the night’s cornucopia of plenty. It was all Qing could do to prevent her eyes from going wide at the first bite. Truly Chef Yanhua had been a grand hire for palace staff, as her stir fried noodles were simply divine. They got Qing’s immediate stamp of approval and seeing as there were no adverse reactions or strange aftertastes, Qing was certain there wasn’t anything in the way of poison. The next item was not quite so straightforward. It was a wonder why Qing had never before tasted shrimp. In spite of her education and worldliness, she had always passed on it. Something about consuming bug-like creatures harvested off shore didn't quite sit right with her. That said, in soup form it wasn't quite as unsettling; decoupling the strange crawling-swimming creatures from the peeled and cooked bits wrapped in dough and floating in soup made it much easier to… swallow. Or it should have, had Qing been able to do so for subsequent bites. A curious burning sensation followed immediately after ingestion. Qing turned her head away and quietly cleared her throat, at first thinking it a bit of ornery phlegm. But the burning persisted; in fact, it got worse. This was not the burning of a tongue that had tasted something too hot or too spicy. In her stomach, whatever vile thing she had just swallowed began to churn, making her grimace briefly in discomfort. Something was seriously wrong. All the prior thoughts of poison and taste-testing for the Empress raced through Qing’s mind again at light speed. Oh no. No no no no no. This couldn’t possibly be poison. There were wards. There were safeguards. There were staff -- her staff -- that were supposed to prevent this! What was she to do? If it were a plot against the Empress, she would surely need to know. But what if it weren’t and Qing was merely overreacting to too much spice for her to handle? Her wing trembled and she dropped the chopsticks, the silvered finish on them clattering as they struck the floor. “I-I am t-terribly sorry, Your M-Majesty.” Qing barely managed to rasp a hoarse whisper through the reaction. “I-I feel ill...” Looking closer, it would immediately become apparent that Qing’s throat and cheeks were beginning to swell...
  2. From the album Test

  3. Stay tuned for updates on IPS 4.2 and what you can expect from it!

  4. Not so much joining as contracting the services of to procure exotic goods and information. In exchange, laundered money and safehouses could be arranged. I give you: gold snek.
  5. FDYSz0O.png

    1. XanXeto


      I mean, I guess?

  6. Daedalus made a face of mock horrified surprise. “I didn’t realize you were into that sort of thing!” Of course, he could not keep the mask for long. It quickly degenerated into laughter. Twilight couldn’t be serious about eating him. Could she? Alicorn biology was indeed mysterious to him, but Daedalus preferred to think he knew enough about Twilight to know she wouldn’t make a meal of him even in desperation. Playful wink and banter was nothing new to Daedalus. Past clients had made plenty of such advances. It was novel, however, to have it come from Twilight, someone far more honest than any Kastroti Head Daedalus had ever spoken with. Even in his short time in her employ, she had demonstrated herself to be mostly business, albeit not without being amicable about it. More flirtatious banter was something novel, indeed. Curious. He shook his head as he chuckled and reached for the rest of the MRE package, fishing the wax-paper wrapped biscuits out. With a bit of light magic, he removed the macaroni tin from the fire, setting it upon a nearby rock to cool. Finally, he broke the first biscuit, handing half to Twilight. Flour, water, and salt made for biscuits that kept well but had little in the way of flavor. If this was what soldiers subsisted on in the field, then surely soldiering must have been the most joyless of professions. Yet another reason Daedalus could add to the list of reasons not to enlist. “A bit stale, even for hardtack,” he jokingly remarked as he downed his first bite. “We’re getting proper wine and olives after we get back to Equestria. My treat!”
  7. I guess I should have mentioned a pose. Daedalus is the smug type. So smug grin or silly eyebrow waggle would be wholly appropriate.
  8. Daedalus, please!
  9. I'm not going to argue with Yandere-chan if she wants to pay.
  10. Playing PVP be like:



  11. To say that the day had been eventful would have been the understatement of the century, nay the millenium. Qing had already taken over the Chamberlain’s duties for the evening in addition to her own and the early arrival of the prince and his spontaneity had all but shattered any semblance of structure she had arranged in the week prior. Perhaps it would have been better for her to outright throw planning to the wind and just allow the royal family to run amok as they pleased; not that they didn’t seem to do that already with Lian returned. Indeed, Lian seemed hellbent on dashing any planned event schedule to pieces. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he delighted in her suffering. But he was his sister’s brother and surely there couldn’t be such cruelty in the bloodline of Miss Yue? Qing chose to believe there was not, as the alternative was much more than she could bear at the moment. Having taken temporary leave to escort Miss Yun He to the academy stacks, Qing had returned to find that arrangements were in need of making. The chefs were hastily contacted and told to prepare their best for the newly returned prince and their guest of honor… Discord. Lian’s orneriness, Qing could handle, but Discord… Discord was something else. “It was no act of aggression that sent your guards into a flurry. Nor was it my decision to arrive precisely when I did -- For that was Feng’s selfish wishing! Nor did I know your compatriot here would arrive without your knowledge or -- Or that she would respond to his arrival. And yet -- all these things are occurring without me using any of my influence. After all a quiet, quaint and peaceful countryside -- you should always be prepared for the odd visitor… I dare say tis not I encouraging these events. But you.” However brief the encounter, his words had cut deep. His monologue -- the monologue burned into her mind -- may well have been one of a villain, a bully, one who took pleasure in embarrassing others and derailing things and inflicting such suffering upon her. Reformed? Hardly. Her Equestrian history may not have been that of a native, but she remembered enough to know the trouble Discord had caused in the past. And yet any action taken by Discord was Qing’s responsibility. Any word spoken meant the blame fell upon her. No matter how guilty Discord was, it would always be Qing’s fault. So fell the Lord of Chaos’ words. Qing fumed in private, nearly shattering her quarters’ mirror when she had returned briefly to touch up her mane and don a more appropriate collar and jacket for the dinner. But laced in with the frustration was fear. What if Discord was right? What if his appearance was merely a catalyst for a disaster waiting to happen -- a disaster that her lack of foresight and inflexibility had been setting up to happen all along? The thoughts milled about in her head even as Qing trotted alongside the Empress to the Hall of Plenty. Royal finery glittered and flowed next to the dull tones of Qing’s slate grey attire, enabling her to hide both her golden scales and her towering height over the Empress so long as she stood correctly. With the amount of thinking she was doing, it was a wonder she didn’t trip over her own hooves on her way in. Somehow, their entrance occurred without incident, but only just. What on earth was Lian wearing? What on earth was Si Jin wearing? Oh no, had she forgotten to arrange laundry? Lian would have sent word, wouldn’t he? Qing stiffened when she realized the answer. No, no he wouldn’t. Si Jin’s state of dress was proof enough of that. This afternoon was proof enough of that. Qing bit her tongue and surreptitiously dug her hoof into the carpet. A sidelong glance at the Empress showed that Qing did not seem like the only one disturbed by the sudden developments. Still, in her infinite patience, Miss Yue presented herself with poise and grace in spite of the farce preparing to blow up in front of them. Qing could only hope she could cobble together a plan quickly since the evening already seemed fit to explode at the seams. She whispered in the Empress’ ear, “If you require, Miss Yue, I can quietly make other arrangements. Just say the word.” Qing took a deep breath and did her best to shrink into the background as the Empress took her seat. A snack earlier would tide her over until this function was finished, after which she could order a proper meal from the kitchen. For now, she would have to play the role of wallflower and if need be, attendant.
  12. “To be fair to Spike, it’s not like he’s bad company,” Daedalus chuckled. “Early on I was concerned he would be grumpy or even feral. But he’s quite personable in actuality. Glad that worked out!” While Daedalus would hardly consider Spike anything more than an acquaintance, they were at the very least on amicable terms. “Office culture” among the castle staff seemed to cultivate this. Barring Discord, of course, but Daedalus would hardly consider Discord among the regular staff. Or regular anything for that matter. “I suppose it is a new serenity. When I was a colt, my tutor always chided me for spending excessive time in her libraries or the royal archives while father was in Canterlot. Though I suppose most of that chiding was the result of experiments gone awry after escapades in said archives! Not having been enrolled in a local school while father was on business limited my contact with Equestrians. This is certainly a change from the impressions I got while home in Kastrot when I was younger.” Daedalus raised an eyebrow. “Shall I fetch another? I know this stuff is calorie dense, but I don’t think it’s that calorie dense! Even doing research that required expending of vitae I don’t think I ever breached three thousand. I’m not particularly picky about counting calories, but an order of magnitude change in consumption is something else.” By now, the tin had begun steaming. A quick tap of his tongue on the sauce on the fork told Daedalus it was done. “That looks done. I’ll put another one on and you can have that one. Have to maintain your svelte alicorn figure somehow, eh?”
  13. brb dying of cute
  14. Daedalus chuckled at the eyeroll. Twilight was nothing if not unflappable. Most of the time. While he had yet to see her at her worst, it was clear that she felt the weight of her responsibilities from time to time; some days worse than others. This would probably class as one of the rougher days. He idly stirred the ration tin’s contents with a mess kit spoon as he tried to get a read on Twilight. Her mind seemed to wander, her eyes glossing over a bit as she looked out over the waves. She was obviously thinking, but of what, exactly? It finally occurred to Daedalus that he had never really thought to ask. Perhaps it was the Kastroti upbringing talking, but asking was the sign of a fool. Courtesans were expected to know if they could and read if they couldn’t. Everypony wore their masks and donned their regalia and played their parts like neat little school colts and fillies in a play. Even life on the road had some element of that; most of Daedalus’ past clients had both professional and non-professional job components that he was hired to perform. Each of the parts was expected to be kept separate. But now, Daedalus found himself in a more or less permanent position, a first for him in a very long time. He wondered to himself what Mama Belle would say after she found out where he was now. He pursed his lips and gazed into the fire, still stirring. Twilight’s words jolted him back into awareness. “Should be just a few more minutes. With void exposure and the dip it took, this stuff may as well have been frozen.” Removing the fork for a moment, he tested the sauce’s temperature with his tongue. Finding it unsatisfactory, he put it back down and slid back in under Twilight’s wing. He continued to stare into the flame as he spoke. “Ponyville downtown would be buzzing with activity right now; same with Canterlot and Kastrot. Even in the Keep, there’s always something going on in the labs, the archives, the common room.” he turned to look at Twilight. “This quiet feels so strange, like my brain doesn’t know what to do when it gets a minute by itself…”
  15. Hibana waved agreement to Shiroi as she passed on her way to the couch, stopping momentarily to give Hoshi a wink. “Maybe I should have started a band instead of signing on with Raku-san, eh?” Flopping down on the couch again, she sighed and smiled as she drank in not only her alcohol but the atmosphere. Limi’s pronouncements momentarily drew her attention. “Not a problem, Limi my friend!” Hibana said in perfect Equestrian Common. “The system can display in multiple languages. It should be easy to find something you’re comfortable with!” Hibana was sure to give the most obnoxious of wolf whistles from the couch as Ryuichi took the stage. She nursed her drink slowly now, having downed enough to prime herself for the evening and just on the cusp of a nice buzz. Her head bobbed along to the swells and breaks of the melody and her hooves tapped in time to the beat. When he was finished, Hibana drummed her hooves on the floor in applause. “I would have given you more adulation in the middle,” she laughed, “But I’d hate to have given you more to struggle with!” The jeer was done in jest, of course. Not everypony was as gifted in linguistics as Hibana, not even the Shogun, though she legitimately applauded the try at a non-native tongue. Besides, Ryuichi and she went back far enough to know what was joke and what was deliberate criticism. Familiarity was the reason she had been comparatively light on Limi’s reluctance to join in on the festivities. With much of his drink now gone, however, he would hopefully be more amenable to such pursuits. While waiting on Limi to decide, the bodyguard’s stiff demeanor caught Hibana’s eye. She gave Sanda a sidelong glance, “Surely you aren’t still thinking business, Sanda?”