The whimpering pile of a stallion freezes his pitiful sounds upon the threat set before him and thus with tear-filled eyes, a wobbling mouth as well as a body trapped by grass he yields. "I'm..." he begins quietly, refusing to look any of the three demon mares or in their direction. "I...was born....an earth pony. Son of two earth ponies, in a big city full of unicorns and pegasi and everyone who could do anything except for the earth ponies...or mud ponies, as they call us. We don't fly, we can't do magic, we're not clever and we can't do anything except physical labor- we're pathetic."
There is a pause after that sentence into which the stallion pours a thick layer of hatred, maybe to give weight to the sentence, but that measure is not really working with how the stallion sniffs pathetically not to mention how to a demon there is no real hate to it but instead a palpable sense of self-delusion. "So I turned to the arts where no wings or horns are needed. And suddenly, nobody called me a mud pony anymore. Not when I could burn their house and curse their family. "
There is a pause after that sentence into which the stallion pours a thick layer of hatred, maybe to give weight to the sentence, but that measure is not really working with how the stallion sniffs pathetically not to mention how to a demon there is no real hate to it but instead a palpable sense of self-delusion. "So I turned to the arts where no wings or horns are needed. And suddenly, nobody called me a mud pony anymore. Not when I could burn their house and curse their family. "