"A Zealot." Upbeat quickly jumped in. "Not a pony, a Zealot. Corrupted worshippers of the false goddess. They're not really ponies, not anymore, they're more like... like walking-dead ponies. It's not their fault; the corruption spreads like a disease, and once it gets inside it twists your mind until all that matters to you is spreading the infection further. Don't worry. Don't think about it. They're not ponies, not anymore.  As for what I was doing: I was collecting clean bits. We fled the city in an awful hurry, and I hoped there was still some left over that hadn't gotten corrupted yet. Turned out to be right too, shame I wasn't paying enough attention to notice the Zealots had spotted me. That's where you came in. So.. what mission has had you living under a rock so long that you don't know what Zealots are?"