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Demon Steed

September 24, 2014

The massive, seven-foot tall stallion’s ebony hide had not a single white hair upon it. His eyes burned with a fierce red glare filled with a baleful, cunning intelligence. His steel-hard hooves shot sparks off the cobbled road as he stomped down it, his every stride shouting resentment. He carried his head and tail high with defiant pride. He snorted jets of fire with each breath. He wore a leather muzzle fastened tight over his mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. His reins were metal chains clipped to a silver ring in his nose.

The on looking crowd regarded him and his rider with a combination of terror and extreme caution. Queen Margalitte Flournoy sat erect in the gem-studded saddle. Her short, lush figure strained the seams of her royal-purple silks. She had milk-white skin, crimson-red hair, and sapphire-blue eyes. Her beautiful features were cold and hard.

A six-year old boy darted into the street before his distracted mother could stop him. Without changing her expression Queen Margalitte turned the stallion in the boy’s direction, stabbed her mount’s sides with her barbed spurs and prepared to ride the boy under. Goaded by pain the stallion charged forward. “Ethelbert, get out of the way now!” His distraught mother screamed.

Ethelbert crouched down in fear as the huge beast thundered towards him. Two strides from the boy the stallion gathered himself and leapt over the boy.

“Damn you!” Queen Margalitte cursed the stallion in her sensual voice, wrenching the stallion’s head around. “My will will not be denied!” But it was too late, the fortunate Ethelbert had scrambled to safety. The Queen raised her gleaming golden sharp-edged scepter and thumped it hard between the stallion’s ears. He snorted in anger and strutted on.

The Queen was in a rage when she dismounted in the courtyard. “No food for that creature today.” She snapped to the horsemaster and stormed into the palace.

“You heard ‘er boys.” The horsemaster said to the four burly stablemen wearing chain mail over their sturdy leather garments and carried heavy crops who gripped the stallion’s reins. “Strip ‘is tack and water ‘im but no feed.”

“We better watch ourselves boys, ‘e ain’t gonna be happy.” Macon muttered to the others.

“Yep, ‘e’ll be in a fouler mood than usual.” Feodin agreed in a dour tone.

Moving with care they dragged the recalcitrant stallion into his stall. Clipping his reins to a pair of sturdy bolts set deep in the stone they began the slow process of removing the bridle, saddle, and muzzle and then wiping the stallion down. Two of them held pitchforks pressed against the stallion the entire time. The incensed animal snapped his teeth with vicious intent at them. One of the men raised his steel-cored crop and slashed at the stallion’s nose. The stallion bugled in fury.

“Ye don’t wanna do that Rogeir.” Macon warned, knocking the blow aside. “The cunning beast ne’er forgets a slight and always get ‘is revenge, no matter ‘ow long ‘e has to wait. The last lad what ‘it ‘is evilness got stomped to a gory paste.”

The other two nodded their agreement.

“Aye, bbbbest to le’ the bbbbeast alone.” Wiltmar stuttered.

Macon grabbed a bucketful of water and eased it in front of the stallion , keeping a wary eye on the animal the whole time. Finished the men slid out of the stall, barring the door behind them. Seething the stallion kicked the stall with all his force, adding to the deep dents scarring the wood.


In response to Writing 101: Death to Adverbs
Today’s twist: write an adverb-free post. If you’d rather not write a new post, revisit and edit a previous one: excise your adverbs and replace them with strong, precise verbs.

This post was very difficult for me to write, I hadn’t realized how much I relied on adverbs until I had to edit the post three times to remove all of the adverbs.

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