Post by Deleted on Feb 18, 2015 3:53:58 GMT -6
||| ZECORA |||
Credit to Rariedash for Current Avatar, Parclytaxel for Profile Pic Vector, and MLP Wiki for Color Names
Name: Zecora
Age Group: Adult
Orientation: Demi-Pansexual
Gender: Female
Species: Zebra
Occupation: Herbalist
Powers and Abilities: A lifelong herbalist, she is very skilled at making mixtures and performing alchemy specifically for curing ailments, both physical and magical. Additionally, as her pursuits have overlapped with shamanism, her creations and compounds are also able to produce magical illusions and even allow limited forms of divination.
Physique: Zecora stands at the height of an average Earth Pony mare, but her muzzle is squared, her ears are slightly longer, and her tail is solid for most of its length. She is also very fit about her legs, suggesting a lifestyle of frequent or prolonged trekking.
Mane and Fur Color and Style: Mane is naturally styled into a Mohawk and is striped light gray and dark Persian bluish gray, while her coat is striped light heliotropeish gray and dark bluish gray.
Eye Color: Strong cyan
Other Appearance Details: Usually wears a set of brass rings around her left foreleg and her neck, as well a pair of brass earrings. In some occasions, such as Nightmare Night, she will relax her mane, which looks wavy when she does.
PersonalityZecora walks with a steady, calm gait, and her eyes look around as carefully but also as kindly as a courteous guest might. In her dealings, she is polite to others, but since ponies sometimes treat her as highly unusual, even threatening, she seldom stays to talk with them once business is done. When ponies around are not suspicious of her, she lets herself be openly comfortable and socializes warmly. She is very much known for her unique way of talking in couplets, though she has not yet explained this. However mysterious Zecora can be at times, she reliably is there for the citizens of Ponyville, using the unique ingredients of the Everfree Forest to compose potions that combat a variety of maladies. Additionally, she has never refused a guest, and in good company, will offer advice and conversation. Much about her still seems mysterious to Ponyville, though she has shown herself to be fun as well as kind with the school-age ponies of the town no matter their misadventures or questions.
HistoryA few years ago, Zecora stepped off the gangway of a ship at the Port of Manehattan with two saddlebags on her back with her cloak, watching the ponies around her with curiosity as they in turn watched her with the same. Over the course of weeks, she traded some of her brass rings for bits that she then traded any information about the country around her in addition to the necessities. True to what she had heard about Equestria from her home country, the maps and information she obtained revealed a vast, peaceful state with thousands of miles of open land crossed by giant caravans of steam-bellowing iron, and led from a Palace atop the highest mountain in the center of the realm like a crown.
Knowing immediately that loud, urban Manehattan was not the place she sought, she boarded one of the trains and silently toured Equestria, initially finding it very difficult to sleep on the rumbling machine. By day, she watched seas of plains and oceans of trees roll past, and then snowcapped mountain ranges floating by out in the distance. She saw cities and small towns, fertile soil and sunbaked earth, neighborly ponies and suspicious ponies, and while she watched Equestria from behind the glass of the passenger car day after day, she realized that she was not sure what to do or where to begin. On one return trip to Manehattan, she looked at the dark, dense forest in the distance with clouds looming overhead, and then her look took on the sharpness of a good idea.
Zecora got off the train at Ponyville, and asked a pony – one that did not evade her, at least – what the forest was and why it looked so different than any other forest than she had seen in Equestria. The pony cautioned her that it was the Everfree Forest, that wild creatures and viciously-poisonous plants lived there, and that ponies that went in sometimes never came out. She smiled calmly, and later that day she walked into the Everfree. There, during many careful days and nights of observing the forest and evading its dangers, she spotted flora that had things in common with flora from her homeland. The Everfree was clearly dangerous, but if she could make a home there, she could use the ingredients of the forest to create many helpful things. Feeling that her journey was at an end, she made her home in the trunk of an old, strong tree.The Roleplayer's Corner
Nickname: Ink Script / Inky
Cbox Icon: ♓
Age: 28
Gender/Preferred Pronouns: Female, She/Her
How did you find us?: Equestria Daily
Sample RP:As Zecora did everyday, the moment she was aware of her eyes opening, she kept them shut and remained still. Leap from your bed too soon, then for the whole morning you'll be a buffoon. The shadows of her dreams beckoned with the pinchy scent of hagenia flowers carried on misty morning air. She took a deep breath, and did not let a single sensation of the act excape her. Her nostrils flared and the woodsweet scent of her home flowed down, stretching her ribs and filling her lungs until the dream and the memory were gone and she somehow felt mighty. She let the breath go and then let her body take over the effort of breath while her attention traveled elsewhere.
Her pillow was cool against her cheek, the feathers inside a bit lumpy, but just right that they supported the weight of her jaw. Her right shoulder was tense and its foreleg was under her chin. Sleep too heavily on one shoulder, you'll be uneven as you grow older. Her attention continued to travel down the length of her body. Her blanket was warm around her sides, a simple covering of three sewn-together layers of unbleached linen. However, she felt the slightest chill about her tail and lower hind legs where it seemed she kicked the blanket up a bit, as if her coat had been caressed by the breeze in the sunset of a long Summer day. Her straw mattress had been kind to her body, below the shoulders, so at least she would not ache throughout the day.
Lastly, she pivoted her ears and listened. The rhinofrogs were wide awake, their long, deep croaks so numerous that the window by her bed lightly vibrated against its frame. Their calls, Zecora found, were many things. Sharp is the verse made shrill and terse. The short calls were threats to the dens of other predators -- in the Everfree, even the hares were dangerous, antlered jackalopes -- while the moderate calls were beacons; one of rhinofrogs had downed something with its poisonous forehead barb and was telling others of its meal. The longest calls, lasting several seconds, were flourishes, telling the forest that it wanted the forest to know where it was. It was the mating call.
The beat of the calls, however, was the rain, pattering heavily all around, pooling in the wide leaves of the tree above in small ponds that poured down onto the walls of roots outside. Female starspiders, larger and more adventurous that the darkness-dwelling males, put nets of webs above the leaf pools. Hasty tree-dwelling critters might try to venture out of their homes for a quick drink and instead become a meal. The female spiders were large and venomous, but hated the taste of simple camphor in the air. Zecora breathed deeply and caught the faint scent of her current pouch hanging among the many tinctures and potions of the hut. She opened her eyes at last. Today I must distill a common fixture, as the honeydews are ripe to be made into a tincture!
She rose and sat onto her haunches, her brass rings clinking as they fell on each other, the blanket bunching around her hooves. Morning rays only reached her hut in the forest in the faintest, deep-green glow, and with neither a fire or lantern lit, the hut was the dim of a memory given as if from a spirit. As she closed her eyes, she saw another glimpse of pink, wrinkled petals breezing about endless green, and she gave her head a shake and slid out onto the floor on her hooves. Ghosts of the past do indeed remain, but a pony is ill, and there's work to be done in the rain.
