Dio

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Dio last won the day on October 24 2016

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About Dio

  • Rank
    The World
  • Birthday 08/11/1987

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Colt
  • Location
    USA
  • Interests
    Computer stuff, political science, video games, table top games, good music, guns, airsoft.

RP Characters

  • Main Character
    Daedalus
  • Character 2
    Arete
  • Character 3
    Castor
  • Character 4
    Lev Nobleheart

Role Play Information

  • RP Ready
    Ask Me

Contact Methods

  • Website URL
    http://www.fimfiction.net/user/JinShu

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  1. Years of service in protection gave Bucephalus a knack for reading others. The other pony was clearly nonplussed, though for what reason, Bucephalus could not discern. Wouldn’t everypony appreciate a full belly to starvation? Perhaps it bore further study. “Nor I, it seems,” he said, gesturing to his buzzed short mane. The new arrival trudged in, weighed down by her sodden coat and mane. While his counter companion offered a seat between them to his left, Bucephalus reached for the napkin of the empty seat to his right next to him. It would be woefully inadequate, but it was better than nothing. Except upon his hoof contacting it, he realized that it was a towel. Bucephalus did a double-take. How had he missed it? He was certain that it was a row of folded cloth napkins sitting upon the counter, none of which had included a towel. Cautiously, he ran a hoof over it. It certainly felt like a towel. It certainly looked like a towel. The only question was how it got there. Furrowing his brow, Bucephalus finally picked it up and passed it to the Kirin. “Indeed it appears rain is quite common in this region,” he finally said still distracted. “Here. This should help. It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold over a little rain.” Bucephalus’ ears twitched to face the new voice. It appeared the owner had finally returned in quite a state of distress. Bucephalus raised an eyebrow. She was young, barely out of school, it seemed. Perhaps her parents ran the shop and she was merely working there? He tilted his head ever so slightly to get a look around the young earth pony. No one else appeared to be in the kitchen. The only breaths and footsteps he could hear were all at the counter. “A strange land it seems,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Soba with whatever your house broth is.” Bucephalus placed his order. “Also, might I speak with you about helping out in the kitchen?”
  2. Hibana clopped her hooves in applause as Shiroi wrapped up her number. “Now that’s a Shiroi I never see! Maybe your office isn’t as much a dank dungeon as I thought!” She laughed. Riko beeped in protest as she was first hissed at, then had the bottle snatched out from under her. With head drooping, Riko warbled sadly and floated back to her owner and curled up between Hibana’s wings. Hibana chuckled, reaching a wingtip to stroke Riko’s head. “It’s okay, hon. They’re just excited and thirsty!” “See, Limi, Oyabun Ryuichi will take good care of you!” she teased, switching effortlessly back into Common Equestrian, “Relax! This is a party, not some secret mission!” “Unless, of course,” she said in a suddenly terse whisper, leaning in close with dead serious face in clear violation of Limi’s personal space until they were nearly muzzle to muzzle, “you’re a caribou secret agent.” She locked eyes with Limi for a moment before her pupils briefly darted to Ryuichi. A smile tugged on her lips and soon it became apparent she was barely holding herself together. Hibana burst out laughing, nearly falling upon her haunches and spilling her drink. Through some miraculous combination of dragon breath blown out in snorting laugh and a quick dive by Riko, her shot glass was saved from the floor. The dragon flames were enough to ignite the fumes around the rim of the shot glass, setting it ablaze. Hibana took the glass from Riko, raising an eyebrow at the flames before shrugging and downing the shot anyway. "Exactly how many golems do you have running around, Hibana?" “Just Riko for now,” she replied lightly booping Riko’s “snout” with her nose. “I’ve been mostly working on modular systems for both Riko and Raiju. No sense in replacing hardware if upgrades will make her do just as well!” “So who’s next to sing? If no one else is heading in, I’ve had my two-drink minimum entry fee already, so I can go!”
  3. The shop was a cozy affair. Its interior was lit by an old hearth at the far end of the dining area and the soft glow of faerie lanterns enchanted to shed light without heat. Small circular tables ringed with similar cushions offered seating away from the main counter. A small censer stood upon a corner table, its smoldering coals filling the room with a faint hint of incense. The area behind the counter was just as prosaic. A few posters with descriptions and sketched drawings of menu items and a chalkboard scrawled with the day’s specials stood behind the till. Quite conspicuously overlooking the counter sat an ornate carved statue of an okami yokai, another lit censer of incense at its feet. Bucephalus raised an eyebrow. While the carver had given the wolf a countenance of neutral, watchful tranquility, Bucephalus could not help but think its eyes were constantly upon him. From the kitchen came the quiet bubble of hot broth in pots, the crackle of grease in a fryer, and the clinks and clanks of dishes being washed by hoof. Bucephalus sighed. As hungry as he was, the shop was likely a one-pony operation. He couldn’t expect them to be at his every beck and call. Thus, Bucephalus waited. "Hello! Are you a hopeless fan of gourmet ramen and dumplings too?" There was a beat before Bucephalus was able to respond. So absorbed in scrutinizing the okami statue had he been that he’d hardly noticed the newcomer. A quick glance told him that there was no one else in the shop that she could have been talking to. “I rather fancy myself a hopeless fan of a full belly,” he smiled. “If that is to be accomplished by ramen and dumplings, I welcome it.” He glanced at the raindrops beading upon her hat. “Would that make you a hopeless fan of remaining warm and dry?”
  4. If the sergeant saw him now, he would surely think that Daedalus had gone mad. To the outsider he would have been shouting at empty air, but to Daedalus he was shouting over the screaming, yelling, and moans of pain coming from the transparent facsimile of Twilight floating just feet from him. It was clear she was in pain. Daedalus had seen pain plenty in his lifetime, but Twilight’s pain hurt him far more than he had expected. His eyes rapidly darted between the projection and the now glowing artifacts in his saddlebags. They were thrumming quite strongly now, glowing ever brighter and shaking as if they would surely burst their bonds. It took a moment, but Daedalus finally made the connection in his head. The artifact capsules were part of the anchor. They were reacting to the ley flow because they were part of the anchor mechanism. Or rather what was inside the capsules. Each one rattled against the others, the metal barely containing the energies resonating within. Daedalus’ thoughts raced. They capsules would explode. There would be shrapnel. Shrapnel at this range meant certain death to fleshy targets such as himself. When he tried to pick one up with his magic the feedback shot an electric jolt back through the aether stream that struck him struck him in the horn like a lightning bolt. Daedalus dropped the capsule like a heated kettle. Normal magic was going haywire. He had to try something else. Daedalus took a deep breath, centering himself and reaching into the Void to pluck a strand of ley undisturbed by the turbulence around him. With another flick of his horn a blade-shaped ridge of black crystals shot out of the ground. Daedalus checked his footing to make sure he was secure. If he fell upon it, the monomolecular edge would slice him in half. He reached down to the ground where the blue capsule lay vibrating madly. It was difficult to hold between his front hooves and even more difficult to rear up and slam the capsule into the crystalline blade. Thankfully, the split was clean. The halves of the metal cracked and fell away from the crystal within, allowing it to freely levitate upwards, accelerating toward where Twilight had plunged into the Anchor. Seeing the desperate plan work, Daedalus got to work on splitting the rest of the capsules. As the last crystal broke free and ascended, Daedalus flicked his horn again, dispelling the crystalline blade so that it did not leave a hazard. Even in the chill of the northern spring, sweat had begun to bead on Daedalus’ forehead and dampen his mane. The effort of pulling from non-local aether and the physical exertion of manually cracking the capsules was finally starting to show. Even so, however, Daedalus remained wary. “Come on, Twilight. Did that do it? Help me help you!”
  5. Music wafted through the streets and alleys of Downtown Long Kong, the raucous blaring of club speakers and the excited chatter of patrons carrying even into the quieter portions of town. As the distance from the riverfront increased, the architecture morphed from the sleek, modern design of Long skyscrapers and entertainment venues into more traditional stylings of Long Kong suburbia. The last rumble of distant thunder gently shook windows and sent ripples through the water pooling in the cobbles. In spite of the passing of the storm, a humid haze lingered at street level, its sticky miasma clinging to the coats of goers-about like hitchhiker seeds. Bucephalus shook the last of the rain out of his mane. Or rather, the mane he had assumed. This form was of a well-built pegasus stallion, his coat the white of freshly cleaned bone with mane and fetlocks the hue of rusted iron. His heavy footfalls reflected martial discipline, but the measured rhythm of his steps reflected high-born pedigree. Thankfully, he had managed to shelter in the metro station before the worst of the storm had struck. Water beaded off his coat and clung to the strands of his mane, but he was otherwise none the worse for wear. But now another problem presented itself. A low growl shook his stomach and put a cringe to his face. It was a long walk to get to the main street Downtown. His dwindling bits meant an unnecessary train ride was out of the question. As if granted by providence, a ramen shop was just around the next block. Bucephalus took one whiff of the delicious scent of soba and broth and began salivating. Love and friendship fed changeling magical reserves, but food was what filled a hungry belly. Furthermore, staying to do dishes or assist with cooking meant a few more bits to pay for lodging for the night and food the next day. With nothing left to lose, Bucephalus hoofed open the door and stepped inside, taking a seat upon one of the cushions by the low counter.
  6. They are so cute and squeezable!
  7. Yin

    The Long with the dragon tattoos?
  8. Warm spring air ruffled through Daedalus’ mane, a far cry from the dry, cold void from whence they came. The portal popped closed behind them and Daedalus was suddenly overwhelmed with the myriad singing of evening birds and the chirping and buzzing of insects. Persisting between worlds, even within the soundless void, was the name, “Kyanaster.” “Star of Blue,” he silently mouthed while gazing into the glowing white-blue pebble that now floated before him. Whether Discord was being figurative or literal in his assessment of the star’s desires, Daedalus did not know. Discord spoke in riddles, constantly misdirecting and redirecting, his inflection belying sincerity but his words equivocating far beyond their colloquial bounds. Daedalus was a skeptic. Stars did not live as ponies did, did they? With feelings and dreams and desires? Or perhaps it was the inhabitants -- either potential or past, it seemed Discord made no differentiation between the two -- of the worlds that circled the star before its collapse? While standing upon the barren asteroid, Daedalus had caught glimpse of a cold, rocky ball transiting the pulsar’s glow. Had there been ponies on that planet, too? Had they met with an untimely end when their star ultimately died? What luxury it truly was to be able to think of these things in leisure. This Kyanaster, her power was strong; even a miniscule fraction of her was sufficient to allow for teleport sigil calculation and rendering at orders of magnitude faster than what he could do in his head. Whatever it -- she, even -- was bore further study. The fading of Kyanaster from the sky went unnoticed by Daedalus, as he focused solely on the soft glow emitted from the tiny star floating beside him, a glow that seemed to flare brightly for a moment before dimming to quiescence once again. “Alicorn princess I am not,” he echoed his earlier reply, his gaze still fixed upon Kyanaster. “Though I suppose more alicorn and less princess now that I think of it. Twilight and I have yet to speak of any long term career development goals; for all I know, I could be back on the road when she returns. My individual skills are considerable, but building a proper network in Equestria of those in the know per se, is a journey unto itself. I’m sure you understand the feeling.” But even as Daedalus prattled on, he knew that all gifts came at a price. There was no way Discord would simply give him Kyanaster without some sort of compensation. No Kastroti patron would ever do so wasteful a thing. Reformed as Discord was, Daedalus was still certain he would ask for reparation or at the very least make a game of it. “So you’ve successfully flung me to the far reaches of space, hooked me up with your star friend, and complimented my potential. What do you get out of it?”
  9. Such a pretty princess!
  10.  

    Put it on. Do awesome things.

    1. SymphonicFire

      SymphonicFire

      Yes, yeeeees!

    2. Rosewind

      Rosewind

      I should play this music when shopping on bad-dragon.

  11. The reformed spirit of chaos and disharmony? That seemed to be an oxymoron of titanic proportions! Qing respected Mister Silverheart as both an instructor and a favored stallion vetted by Miss Yue, but she had to question his judgment on such things. Thankfully, Discord seemed to be willing to be diplomatic, his smugness belying neither malice nor hostility. Furthermore, Miss Yue seemed to be firmly in control. It was then that Qing realized that the Chamberlain’s sudden absence. Or more precisely, his sudden departure, much to the chagrin of her eardrums. Aiya! With the Chamberlain gone that meant… gulp. She was in charge. Her ears drooped as she realized the sudden responsibility that she had suddenly been saddled with. She could only hope this would be resolved quickly and a simple dismissal of the staff would be sufficient. But without Miss Yue’s command, the best she could do was remain on standby and keep the staff there as well. There was also the more pressing issue of Yun He. Qing could immediately tell she was uncomfortable. The lack of eye contact, the dazed expression, the awkward ticks from both her hooves and wings. In a moment, the skittishness from assuming command departed and her heart swelled as she recognized the classic signs of anxiety. Oh the poor dear. Qing empathized, she truly did. She had to do something to assist her! “[Miss Yun, I am Dong Qing, Her Majesty’s attendant. I am here to ensure matters go smoothly, which also means ensuring that matters concerning her fair citizens are attended to.]” Qing’s tone softened considerably, a slight smile appearing on her face. “[As an academy alum, you are free to enter and leave the academy as you please. Even with Her Majesty present, I would not expel you under these circumstances. If you require escort to your destination, however, I can quickly make arrangements so that you arrive unmolested.]” She gestured with a wingtip toward the retinue of staff that remained on standby. "Always a pleasure to see you, Silverheart, I trust you've been well since we last spoke? Perhaps after all is said and done we can take some time to catch up?" Qing recognized that voice. She recognized it all too well. Oh no, how could she have missed it? She had been so concerned with the Chamberlain and Yun that she had entirely missed Prince Lian’s arrival. Unforgivable! “[Prince Lian!]” Qing’s conditioned response was to whirl around instantly bow, nearly dropping her glasses and narrowly missing Yun’s face with her tail. “[My humblest apologies for not even acknowledging your arrival. Please forgive me!]”
  12. Daedalus felt the aether shift before he saw it. The apparition caught the corner of his eye as he was already turning to face it. At first it seemed to be a ley resonance ghost, but as he slipped back into realspace and the mirage remained, he settled sight upon it as a purposeful projection. Twilight addressed him in brief by proxy. “I’ve recovered all of the loose artifact capsules,” he replied. “No sign of the last survivors yet, but we’re still looking. Wait, are you seriously going to--” She was. Daedalus cringed as a scream that only he could hear split his eardrums and seemed to vibrate the aether around him. The projection mirrored Twilight’s actions in the aether, horn aglow, wings and limbs spreadeagle as she touched the vein of the world. If anypony else could hear it, they would have every right to have been alarmed. For a moment, Daedalus cursed Twilight’s decision to dive right in. It was a filly’s means of working something out, diving straight in instead of detaching the Anchor from outside using surgically precise spellcraft. “You’re expecting me not to be alarmed by that?” Daedalus growled through gritted teeth, his ears still throbbing from the audio assault. “Projection or not, there’s void magic in there! Watch for it so you can compensate!” Again, the doubts surfaced, not for Twilight’s competence, but for her safety. Much like litigation, diving face and aura first into a raging aetherstorm was horribly unpredictable and nearly always costly. Princess or not, it was still threatening to life, limb, and possibly soul. A few seconds in and the hum of the anchor was already beginning to subsume the air around him. It took a moment for Daedalus to realize the strange hum was not coming from the Anchor above but from his own saddlebags. He quickly dropped the saddle and opened up the packs. The magical capsules he had collected glowed much more strongly through their quartz windows. Each one thrummed with barely contained energy; energy that seemed to be growing with every passing second. Whatever those artifacts were, they were reacting to the Anchor’s activity. “That can’t be good,” he muttered. Turning to Twilight’s projection, he shouted to be heard over the drone of magic and the screams of aural agony. “Whatever you’re doing you need to hurry it up. I’ve got what looks like a positive aether-reactive feedback loop going here in these artifact capsules!”
  13. Mama Belle!