Dio

"I am hoping that Kapitän Novaya is having a plan for us... I am merely pony with hammer, I am good at killing ponies and tearing flesh, not thinking about how and when to do so."

"Kapitan? Do not start saluting me yet, molot’chik! I work for a living!" Novaya snorted in mock contempt at the stallion’s remark. Hydration was helping her alertness, as was loads of home fries and bland but thick scrambled eggs. “And as much as you may enjoy the thrill of battle, we should not be so quick to apply lethal force.”

"Every effort not spent on killing blow to head of organization is wasted. There may be some way to save the townsfolk yet. Until we determine that for sure, we focus all efforts on breaking the cultists’ hold."

Novaya withdrew a small notebook and pencil from her combat webbing, quickly sketching out the larger forms on the map. Complementing the layout of the village itself were several jagged scribbles around the perimeter coinciding with rocky hills and large boulders formed of compacted glacial moraine. Small arrowhead shapes representing evergreens and a meandering path with water-squiggles denoting a stream rounded out the rough sketch.

“The roads to the west of Port Dawn should lead us to Lunae. If we leave within the next hour or so, we should arrive with enough light left to do bit of reconnaissance before we bunker down for the night. According to what I was able to scrounge from local guides before meeting with Tovarisch-Magya Valius, there should be covered areas for us to shelter for the night in the forest nearby.”

"This village. Is it quarantined? Ponies get in, but they don't come out?" asked Cutlass, careful to make sure to get another long chug of her water at the table. "Not to mention, are we striking at night or day? The old man didn't give us to go on." A pause. "I knew that he didn't give us much to begin with, but now that we're in it, it's becoming a bit more apparent."

“Any quarantine appears to have been word of mouth. If somepony spreads rumor of infected village and no missions from it return, who has need for decree of law or doctors? As for operations, we will decide whether we perform daylight raid or night infiltration after we perform reconnaissance. Magya Valius gave us objective; it is up to us to make a plan.”

“There are vantage points here, here, and here.” Novaya pointed to various points in the hills around the rough sketch of the village. “When we arrive, I want to make observations of the village, learn guard patrols and get a head count before we go in.”

“With some work and a bit of luck, we will be able to ignore the thralls and go straight for cultist leadership. They have the advantage of numbers and knowledge of the land, so our only options will be to close the knowledge gap and overwhelm them with speed, stealth, and momentum. Any questions?”

BS degree all the way. You can afford to hate math so long as you are capable of doing it. You cannot afford to hate the arts. Get the math and science out of the way, then when Valve or Nintendo or Bioware or whoever comes your way, tell them what you REALLY like doing.

There are quality threads running in FFA such as An Adventure of Unorthodox Proportions. For the sake of keeping them manageable most of them are closed and have a small group of players. Don't get discouraged, though, you'll still have opportunities to run your own or get involved with other people's RP threads. Like Scotchie said, YOU are the creative lifeblood of this place and it's your responsibility to tell great stories and have great fun. If you invest yourself into the RP, it will be a much better experience for all involved.

“That is quite all right,” Celestia said, nodding in acknowledgement at the curt bow. “This was, after all, on very short notice.”

"What did you wish to discuss with me, your highness?"

It was immediately apparent that Lanceguard was less than comfortable with the circumstances, though panicked would be far too strong of a word. Then again, the circumstances were ambiguous and when confronted with a royal summons, most ponies were wont to let their imaginations run rampant. Sipping gingerly at her tea, Celestia wasted little time.

"You see, a little bird told me that you needed assistance in promoting your sport. It seems that history has been lost upon the ponies of modern Equestria and I am all for the promotion of culture and history.”

As she spoke, the tea set glowed faint gold, rearranging itself to accommodate Lanceguard’s chosen seat. An ornate saucer inlaid with gold wisps and artistic representations of flying pegasi lifted off from a stack on the tea tray, touching down to Lanceguard’s left. The saucer was topped by a similarly-decorated teacup which was soon filled with piping hot tea smelling faintly of chrysanthemums.

The princess continued as tea was poured. “I was also informed of a foal's hospital that was sorely in need of donations earlier today. I am all for the support of worthy causes; and I can think of no worthier cause than providing affordable health care to sick children.”

Small dessert plates floated from another stack on the tea tray, floating patiently by the cheesecake as small slices liberated themselves from the cake body and deposited themselves neatly on the plates. Their task complete, the plates floated to set themselves before the princess and the athlete. Celestia thoughtfully took a bite of cheesecake before continuing.

“Finally, I am sure you are aware of a certain Duke of Canter who has taken it upon himself to become a jousting champion in less time than most athletes would spend on their daily warmups.” A wry smile crept across the princess’ face as she continued. “It appears we have a confluence of events that will be mutually beneficial. If you're half as clever as I trust you to be I suspect you'll have figured it out already.”

“So The foal’s hospital is in need of a fundraiser. You and your company are in need of some publicity. My dear duke is in need of a lesson. I have access to the resources necessary to make this happen. All I need is someone with the drive and the personal leverage to ensure that everything runs smoothly. I’m sure you’ll find the terms agreeable. How do they say it these days? ‘Are you in?’”

"Ok well, by the time the window frame was on fire I was awake, and rushing books out of the library. Like Spike said, the window fell and caught the grass on fire, which meant I had to move the books I was saving even further away. By the time that was done and I looked back things were WAYYY worse. Spike sure wasn't kidding about phoenix fire burning really hot. By the time I got back into the library I couldn't get to the second floor bedroom so I yelled to Spike to get, Peewee, get out, and maybe do what he could about some books. By the time I started pulling books out of the ground floor rooms we may have been getting some attention from the neighors"

Shining Armor sipped at his coffee as he observed with detached curiosity. Twi’s description wasn’t so much a recount as a rambling run-on story listing each individual occurrence. It wasn’t surprising, really. It was very much like Twilight to get caught up in the details and with the burns still fresh and the adrenaline just now starting to wear off, he couldn’t exactly fault her for reverting to what she knew best.

“I guess the important thing is that nopony got hurt,” he said as he set his mug back down on the table. “Books can be replaced. Ponies and baby dragons can’t. Nor can phoenixes.”

The captain’s administrator side wanted to know more specifics. How were they going to pay for this? Who could they contract to fix it? What would Celestia say about them keeping a phoenix without telling her? Was there even a proper manual for phoenix care? What would this look like on the local guard report? Shining Armor shook his head as he gulped down more coffee. Reports were reports and work could stay at work. This wasn’t about graceless guards and puckish Princesses, it was about family.

“I can put up some bedrolls in the hotel room. I don’t think Cadence will mind if you stay with us for a night or two while we’re in town. We’ll try and get some better arrangements for you and Spike sorted out tomorrow morning. Then maybe we can go visit our little troublemaker PeeWee. Sound good?”

The air was almost oppressively still; an earth pony would not have felt the currents of the aether and likewise would not have heard the aetheric static that pervaded the claustrophobia of the catacombs. But just the same, there was a palpable chill that lingered and a certain something that was likely to set anypony on edge. But to Celestia’s sixth sense, the environment was in constant motion. Ribbons of transparent lavender whipped past her head at lightning speed. Crackling arcs of purple electricity crawled along the walls. Static filled the air as if she were in the midst of a speaker malfunction. All threads and currents seemed to converge upon a single point just beyond the cistern wall, a singularity that was rapidly sucking down all ambient strands of magic.

The flow seemed to draw Celestia’s mane with it even though there was no wind in the catacombs; a clear marker of the disconnect between the physical and aetheric realms and Celestia’s precarious position between the two. The Doctor was speaking, but Celestia could hardly hear him over the white noise in her ears and the visual static from the rapid flow of aether around her.

Finally, the contingent arrived at the door to the cistern floor. Celestia had the mind to take a closer look inside, peering through the walls through the aether before acting. But before she could do so, the Doctor had already trotted to the door and with a mighty “Allon-SY!" had shouldered his way through. Gritting her teeth, Celestia quickly slipped in behind him, ducking under the frame that was obviously designed for smaller ponies.

"Now, where's that ..." the Doctor paused, and his eyes widened, raising his head to look up at the five-foot-tall fluffy green ball with far, far too many legs squatting in the center of the stone room. "... queen ..."

The cavernous walls of the cistern stretched above, a seemingly infinite expanse dimly lit by everburning torches and shrouded in the sounds of thousands of skittering legs. The sound of static was nigh unbearable now, but Celestia shut out the noise and stepped forward. The walls and floor were covered in webbing, wholly organic in nature, but laced with something that glittered to the senses, something distinctly magical. Embedded within the webbing, immobilized but still alive, were the horns of unicorn guards. Breaking them out would be simple... once the queen was dealt with.

In the center of the stone cistern sat a large caterpillar-like mass, covered in bright green fuzz and sporting more legs than any creature had any right to have. The creature sat squarely at Celestia’s eye level, but was many times more massive; by comparison, it dwarfed the Doctor. Reacting to the sounds of the company’s entrance and surely to the sudden presence of such a substantial source of magic, the queen slowly slithered into position, turning her red eyes first upon Celestia, then the Doctor, then back to Celestia.

"Well ... um ... can't just step on that, then ..." the Doctor muttered.

Seeing the aether side by side with the material world, it was immediately apparent that the creature’s physical manifestation was only loosely based on its manifestation in the aether. While the creature’s eyes belied quiet curiosity, its aetheric manifestation stood upon spindly legs, its mandibles practically dripping with saliva as it hungrily eyed the new food source that had blundered into its lair.

The princess’ mane and tail whipped about her in multicolored strands as they were drawn towards the magical singularity at the core of the queen. How could one of the most magical creatures in Equestria fight something that consumed magic? The creatures fed on magic, so spells to shield or harm them through evocation would be worthless!

“We’ll need a bigger horseshoe to stamp this out,” Celestia said flatly, belying the frustration within.

As if on cue, an enormous BANG echoed from above, followed by the shrieking and skittering of myriad spiderlike creatures. A low rumble shook the entire cistern, quickly escalating into a roaring cacophony. Large chunks of hewn stone began falling around Celestia, Doctor Whooves, and the remaining guards, each impact sounding like a sledgehammer against the floor of the cavernous structure.

“Not what I expected, but that will do,” the princess said before springing into action.

Even before the the shadow had been cast upon her, Celestia could feel its bow wave in the aether. The Princess shoved Doctor Whooves back towards the guards as she dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding a giant chunk of fallen ceiling that landed between herself and the manasprite queen. She whirled back around, her hoof guards sparking on stone as she threw her barriers up around the company.

A gleaming sphere of violet sprang into existence, just quickly enough to stop the gigantic fragment from falling over and crushing them. As other fragments of the ceiling continued to fall, Celestia stepped up to the stone fragment, calling upon the strength to move mountains that ran in the veins of earth ponies. Folding her wings leaning into the rock in a decidedly unprincesslike manner, Celestia threw the weight of the earth against the stone.

The stone stack creaked and groaned against the floor as it slowly but surely reversed direction. With one final shove from Celestia, the fragment toppled, landing squarely atop the queen. The creature shrieked in both the physical realm and the aether, its incorporeal form immobilized as its corporeal anchor was pinned beneath the stone. Celestia cringed as the high-pitched keening filled her ears, but stamped her hooves and reinforced the barrier in spite of it. The flow of aether suddenly reversed direction, making her mane and tail stream out behind her as the manasprite queen began to “bleed” magic.

Another gigantic chunk of rock crashed down atop the first, thoroughly smashing the queen with the force of a thousand hammers. Celestia reflexively raised a wing to shield her eyes as the keening reached a fever pitch; the other wing shielding the guards on her side and Doctor Whooves behind. There was a tremendous explosion that shook the very foundations of the mountain. Dust and glitter was everywhere, making it impossible to see. Where there had been an empty chamber, now there was just rubble.

Darkness. A shroud of artificial night was cast across the bottom of the cistern as the everburning torches were torn from their walls and the air choked with dust from pulverized stone. An eerie silence had descended upon the base of the structure. There was no chittering of manasprites, no clip-clop of hooves on stone, no speech to suggest that anypony was even alive. The cistern may very well have become a tomb.

But there was always hope. A single pebble rolled down a slab of rock that had buried itself in the dust and debris. Then another. Then another. The slab itself began to shake as if some plow horse had secured chains to it and begun to rend it from the earth. Little by little the slab and those around it worked themselves loose until finally they shot away from the ground in a burst of purple light and blue sparks, clattering against the cistern walls before thudding unceremoniously to the floor.

Celestia gasped for breath as she breached the surface of the sea of broken rock. A choking miasma of dust lingered in the air around them, forcing her to maintain her barriers if she wished to breath. The princess scrambled over the artificial scree, extending her barriers to clear the air around her and lighting her horn in an effort to see through the gloom. She was dirty, sweaty, battered, and bruised, but she would live.

It was Luna that she was far more concerned about. Dread was an uncommon feeling for Celestia, a pony who always had things under control. But as she frantically swept her search spell around the cavern, the feeling crept along her belly on icy claws.

“LUNA!”

That's exactly what we need. An episode centered around regime change and political intervention :I

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Application reactivated at user request.

"Oh I wouldn't know, you'll need to show me," the alicorn taunted Shining Armor. "Talking and dancing are two very different things, but you knew that."

Shining Armor’s would-be retort was cut short by a tap on the flank from his wife; to which he only responded with a bemused smirk and a light flick of his tail against her flank. Of course, Cadence could hardly be bothered to notice, she seemed so enraptured by her drink. I may have to forgo the usual pint to try some of that, he mused. The playful teasing was a staple of their relationship, a constant game that kept them on their hooves and solidified the bond they had built, even in spite of... the last crisis.

As Cadence sipped, Shining Armor felt eyes upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the barmare looking him up and down, eliciting a quiet chuckle from the captain. It wasn’t the first time he’d been checked out and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Admittedly, it was flattering, but Shining Armor did his best not to let it get to his head. Like he needed anything else to be viciously teased about by his wife; that one series of REA recruiting posters was bad enough!

"You really know your wines!" Cadence exclaimed. "I don't know many ponies who can pick out a good vintage for the rarer mixes. I'm Cadence, may I ask the name of our talented server?"

“Why thank you so much, your high- I mean, thanks! My name is Martini, Martini Paradise, at your service!”

“Glad to meet you, Martini!” Shining Armor said, introducing himself with a nod and a smile. “Echoing what my wife had to say, good customer service goes a long way. I’m glad this place had the mind to hire help as good as it was during my ROTC days!”

“Would you like another?” the barmare said, directed more to Cadence. “Or perhaps something else for the handsome soldier? We have it all here, so feel free to get off all four and relax a spell!”

“Actually, I change my mind about the ale,” the captain said. “I’ll have what she’s having. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good vintage and I’d love to see what’s got her heart all aflutter!”

“On hoof, I can be right quick. But I’m thinking you need to be a good bit faster than that, if what the dear Miasma says is true. The rumors in Manehattan always pegged me as having wings and really it’s a bloody shame I don’t. But I make do with it when we’re out and about.”

“Of course,” the pony paused to take a long draught of his ale. He chuckled as he put the tankard back down. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a ride.”

“You needn’t worry about weight; I’m just a wee little pony, unlike featherfluff over there,” he said, motioning towards Gilda with his head, “and I can assure you I’ll be invaluable on the ground.”

"A retriever, huh? I thought only diamond dogs were those.”

White Feather smirked at the remark. He could work with the dragon. She had a sense of humor it seemed! “In a manner of speaking, though i’m neither so smelly nor so doltish.”

“...the way you describe it sounds kinda like a thief. Stealing is bad."

And that was the kicker. What could have passed as wry humor was buried by an avalanche of moralizing and White Feather raised an eyebrow at the otherwise well-meaning dragon. She had heart, he could admire that, but what else was she expecting coming into a job like this? Thankfully, Miasma decided to nip the problem in the bud.

"Ah ah ah, if anyone has a problem with anyone else, feel free to whup each others tails after this is over. Your mission, should you choose to take it, requires cooperation. Period.”

“Aye, you’ll have mine for certain, Miasma.”

The griffon continued. "If you don't want in, out, now. Simple as that. If you've any more questions, I'll answer them. But we'll need to proceed to the planning stage. That convoy is set to leave an hour from now. And our first objective is to stick to the convoy like glue. After that, we can decide whether or not to capture Fang or wait to see what she comes up with after raiding Gil Dorado."

“If I can walk away with a cut of the reward for bringin’ your buffalo friend his map, that’ll be enough of a job for me this day. If it actually does lead to a legendary city of gold... well, let’s take it one step at a time,” White Feather chuckled. “The convoy. What are we expecting and when do we leave?”

The application still suggests mind control to me. I was looking for the keyword "suggestion." Some people like going along with things and will thus go along with ridiculous things when prompted to do so. Others do not. You can do smooth talking, show boating, and add all sorts of cosmetic razzle dazzle to the performance to suggest things but you can't force or trick people into liking the show if they don't like it. He's not the Pied Piper of Ponyville with his flute or Harbinger with indoctrination.

I'm asking for a rewording and clarification of what he does. If you feel that sort of change warrants a complete withdrawal of the application, that's your prerogative. Let me know what you intend to do.

Would you like the riesling or the chardonnay with dinner tonight? I can pick up a bottle on my way home from work.

The primary issue I have with this is that it suggests Decibel Disc’s special talent is essentially mind control. The quality of music is fairly subjective. Declaring that Decibel Disc’s magic can make his music seem objectively better subverts this axiom. Dazzling an audience with showmanship and overwhelming them with senses is one thing, altering their fundamental understanding of the music is something else entirely.

Might I suggest (forgive the pun) that he utilize showmanship and the power of suggestion to accomplish his aims? Some flashing lights, a lot of grandstanding, a bit of hypnosis, and he’s able to take those who are susceptible to such things into his thrall to sell out his shows. But as soon as they realize what’s going on, they no longer hear what they want to hear and can react appropriately.

This creates some new themes for the character: he’s great at showmanship, but terrible at creating music, but doesn’t want to fully acknowledge that. Will he continue pursuing his dream of becoming a star DJ or will he finally acknowledge that he’s much better at creating a show than he is at playing one?

Physical violence in RP is highly discouraged, though not absolutely prohibited if both parties agree to the scenario and it does not venture into grimdark territory. Of course the moderating team reserves the right to shut down a thread if we feel it is going too far. I trust that you will not require us to do so.

One final thing. There are no firearms in Equestria so it would be appreciated if you could remove it from the application under the "likes" field. Other than that, looks good.

Incorporated Brian's tweaks into personality. Shall we give it another go?

Shining Armor scrunched his nose, nonplussed at the sudden intrusion. Who had the audacity to barge into the dungeon yelling and screaming? Who would even come DOWN to the dungeon without a set of cuffs on them or a military uniform? The captain whirled around, expecting brass or some self-righteous adjutant. Obviously, this was not what he got.

“Princess Luna!” Shining Armor blurted, hastily snapping off a salute before he realized what was happening.

To say that Luna was in an awkward position would have been an understatement. Her jaw slack, her mane droopy and unkempt, and her pupils pinpoints in shock, she was the very image of something decidedly unprincesslike. She was not taking to the dampening field well at all. The boisterous cadet in Shining Armor would have been rolling on the floor laughing, but the army officer in him reined in the potential faux pas. This was the princess!

“Are you all right, your majesty?” the captain said, cautiously trotting up to her.

Hey I know you! Welcome to Canterlot!

I've already decided that Virtue's theme is God's Gonna Cut You Down by Johnny Cash. I've quoted it in RP and I address similar themes in Virtue's actions.

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