Six years ago, an unimaginable horror known as Tirek came to Equestria. His power was nigh impossible, requiring the Elements, the Lovers and the Alicorns all to pour their very souls into holding him. In their absence, Prince Blueblood took the crown. But, Blueblood's reign is simply a mask for the Guard's dictatorship, while rebels cling to the idea of a free republic and strange cults tout the value of freedom from any governance. With all this, why would anypony spare a thought for the comet that filled the night sky for weeks before falling?
Weather: Cloudy Season: Spring Who's in power right now? Traditionalists Meteor Collected: 0%
Clever Clover Adult Mare Zebra Clover keeps her own company. Professor
Image, if available. Coat:
Palest green, with stripes of dark, almost black green
Long and slightly wavy, the result of many growing and relaxing potions. Dark grey and white.
Very long, slightly wavy. Dark grey and white.
Bright, yellowish green
A branch of curare with two leaves and one flower
Of average build and size, Clever could probably pass herself off as an earth mare if it weren't for the stripes and the slight stub of her tail before the hair spools out.
Her garden is elegant and showered in care, being a repository of plants quite rare. So it can safely be said and held as true, that a gift of a new plant will put her favor on you.
The foods of Zebrica, though spicy and complex, are rarely put beside new dishes to test. And with a love of the novel so bright as hers, the many cuisines of Equestria are a gift not a curse.
Blandness of food or, for that matter, of mood.
Some questions are stupid, and that is the truth. Ask them if you must, but you may lose a tooth.
Some beings it's said are truly divine, but she has no tolerance for those who can only whine.
Snow. There is no monstrosity worse, in her eyes, than fluffy white flakes make of stinging, wet ice.
Is it too much to ask to return to old ways? Ah but there is no divine grace these days. For each morning the foal pretends to raise the sun, she will plot and plan to end his run.
Clever Clover fears no one thing, save perhaps traitors , who'd her secrets sing. The law is unkindly to a foreign born thing, particularly one with designs on their king.
Beyond that her greatest concern is quite shallow, fearing only that her reputation most hallowed would come in to question and be put to the test, for she can't stand the idea of not being the best.
Clover is a mage of some renown Though her skills differ from any unicorn we've found: The herbs and grasses that she breeds Can heal many wounds and fulfill many needs. She speaks in rhyme with ease and skill Although it bothers many of her students still. She strives each day and many a night To instill in her pupils her sense of wrong and right. Of course it differs vastly from the laws of the land Which is why she speaks at the Scholomance, And not the Celestial School as she had ever planned. She makes no great effort to take in the regulations and rules, Convinced that they exist only to control true fools. She will do as she likes, and you'd be hard pressed to stop her, Lest you find yourself on the wrong end of a potion's stopper. Anger comes fast to her, whiplike and stinging, And yet her face remains smiling, her words remain singing. But there is a danger that lurks behind pretty white teeth In the poisonous blood that flows underneath.
Born with a name like poison on the tongue Sumu Kwenye Damu was every the lucky one. Her youth was joy and wealth and pleasure, And she was the cheift's heir, in comfort without measure.
Curious and hungry for something unknown Kwenye began experimenting with the seeds she had sewn. She coaxed life from dry dirt, as any farmer should, But the crops that she grew were not so good. They were strong, to be certain Grew hardy and fast But they were never food, Or if they were it would never last, Only the medicines, poisions, and portents Grew in the soil where she laid her experience. So she learned them by name, and by feel, and by sight, And she learned the much more, in day and through night. Until one day her mark appeared on her side, On the day that her first accuser had died.
Though proof could not be found or had When she was banished 'unjustly' she was rather glad Zebrica was dry, and hot, and cruel, And her precious herbs could not grow in dirt rich as gruel. Her intent was to seek lodging and lecturer's rights, And that most famous of schools in Canterlot's heights. But fate was not quite so kind, or perhaps far more, And when she was denied for the lack of a horn, She found herself at the Scholomance door. They took her in, gave her food, and purpose, and more. In time her name altered to suit her new home, And Clever Clover became the title by which she was known. By the luck of her school's isolation, she escaped the brunt of the war, For weeks she knew only that unicorns were called away, and nothing more. When the explanation finally came, she still knew only one thing: There could be only disaster in crowning Blueblood king.