Bunny Knight

***Happy Late Easter! Hope Everyone Had Fun Finding Eggs And Keeping Their Personal Ones Safe*** 👀***Here’s A Short Bunny Girl Story For The Themes! I Really Just Wanted To Write About A Cool Knight XD But I Hope Yall Like It***

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“***Happy Egg Day!”***

The stunning Bustia sun that casts over the *Eggo’Von Festival* in the ***Malorria Kingdom*** is the perfect golden weather for such a big day. It’s the kind of day that made even the oldest guards forget about ambushes.

*“—Uh oh! Don’t squeeze them too hard or they’ll break!”*

Colorful banners hung from every balcony. Young arcane students race through the cobblestone streets with woven baskets filled with fragile ovals, flinging small sparks of energy as their laughter mixes with the distant chime of the Grand Cathedral's bells.

*“—Who wants a spicy dragon flake scrambled omelette? Get them while they’re stillll hot!”*

Vendors of all sorts sold painted eggs, cooked eggs, and egg shaped artifacts, *some chicken, some drakes, some the speckled treasures of the elusive wonders of the mind,* from carts decorated with ribbiobs and fresh flowers.

Everyone was having fun except ***Bernadette Montgomery***. *The Rabbit Knight who hates eggs…*

“Ah, a lovely Paladin! Would you like buy some special eggnog? It’s good for the—*Aiii!!!”*

***Cruuunch!***

No one gives a second look to the sudden nutbusting that rocks a vendor’s world. Looking down, the old man who was being pushy to the wrong person finds a lucky left foot between his legs.

*Smashing* his saggy nuts against his pelvis…

“No. I’m not in the mood.” Bern says with one thin green eyebrow twitching.

You see, she wasn’t mad at the festival itself. The festival was fine. People deserve to be happy, and eggs deserve to be celebrated. Plus the scent of honeyed bread drifting from every corner was objectively pleasant.

What she hated was the false sense of peace. The way everyone's shoulders drop so easily, despite dealing with fragile food. The way merchants left their stall doors unlocked despite the manic crowds looking to smash and break things. Or the way young Fawnix couples held hands in open alleyways like the world has forgotten it has sharp teeth…

*Teeth don't forget,* Bern thinks as she adjusts the katana at her right hip and lets the old vendor’s balls slide off her steel toe boot.

The blade was a formality today. A symbol of her rank within the Silver Circle. But her real weapons, *her strong athletic legs, her instincts, her ability to kick a grown man’s hanging vulnerabilities into a mess before he could scream,* were always ready.

She’s a bunny Fawnix. Five-foot-six on a tall day, a noticeable rack when she’s not geared up, and soft green furry hair that matches her long ears that twitch at frequencies other species couldn't hear. But it’s her puffy green tail and juicy cupcake butt that made trainees underestimate her right up until she swept their legs and locked their throats between her thick thighs.

They call her a *Nutcracker*. A serious prune who respects her duties enough to never *actually* cross lines, but won’t show mercy to certain boy bits. Bernadette Montgomery has a reputation amongst her bunny family, *one whispered in hushed, pained tones between off-duty guards,* for aiming *justtt* low enough to make grown men reconsider their life choices.

The Silver Circle knights joke that she could destabilize an entire rebellion by kicking the biggest guy right his favorite gems.

*Case in point: Last summer’s botched spice robbery. Three armed mercenaries, each beyond her size, thought a bunny Fawnix would be an easy intimidation target.*

*Bern had disarmed the first with a running uppercut to his nuts with the back of her wrist, swept the second’s legs mid-charge into a ballbreaking elbow, and when the third lunged with a dagger, she pivoted on her heel and drove her boney knee upwards with nut annihilating precision.*

*Later reports said those mercenaries’ balls didn’t drop from their stomachs until a week later.*

“You’ll live,” she’d says to the old man as she keeps walking, nudging past his twitching form. “But maybe invest in a codpiece.”

She moves through the festival crowd with purpose, her Silver Circle cloak, midnight blue and silver with the crescent-and-paw crest, drawing respectful nods from those who noticed.

Most didn't…

They were too busy watching jugglers and too distracted by the scent of festival sweets. Everything was “too peaceful” to scan the shadows between stalls.

Bern scanned anyway and wasn’t surprised when her tall ears caught something. A muffled whimper. The sharp clink of a coin purse being yanked. A male voice, low and threatening, saying the words "*don't make this hurt more than it has to"* in a tone that suggests hurting was the whole point.

“*Bastards*.”

Bern taps her wide foot and turns left at a pastry cart, slips between two canvas tents, and finds the alleyway.

“P-Please! Let m-my big s-sis go!”

Three tall men, all wearing Blue Devil masks, gang up on two defenseless girls like monsters. Their cheap black suits looked second hand and their masks are ceramic but popular among gutter bandits who wanted to look scarier than they were.

“Shut up and watch what happens when a slutty rat gets caught by rat hunters.” Says one of the suited devils, meanly.

They'd cornered a busty mouse girl with long gray hair against a stack of crates, one hand clamped over her small mouth while another tore at her basket and bags. Behind her, pressed flat against the wall with tears streaming down her whiskered cheeks, was what appeared to be her younger sister.

*Devils should always be cut down*.

Bern's fingers brushes the lacquered hilt of her katana as she grits her teeth.

"You boys picked the wrong damn festival to play rough," she says, voice low as a bowstring pulled taut.

“Huh?”

The nearest Blue Devil snaps toward her. The mask’s face grinned eternally, but the man beneath it froze mid-motion, his grip tightening on the mouse girl's wrist.

“Oh shit guys! It’s a guard!”

Bern didn't wait for theatrics. Her thighs bulge as her boots scuff the ground. She takes two stomps before jumping forward with all eyes on her.

“I got her!”

One of the other masked men, someone with pointy ears and slicked black hair, steps in the way. His own one handed blade flashes out wildly, expecting to slash through Bern midair but the bunny girl almost laughs.

*Amateurs*.

Her own katana stays sheathed as she pivotes, letting the bandit's wild slash whistle past her ears as steel met empty air. As she twists from his reach she feels the complete absence of Hexx or soul energy humming through his blade.

*No reinforcement. No soulfire. Just a thug with a normal weapon and terrible footwork.*

"Nice try loser," she murmurs, then drives her right palm up under his wrist. A sharp strike to the pressure point where tendons met bone, forcing his fingers to spasm and drop his blade.

***KRRUNCH!***

He didn’t see her foot fly up until it was too late. Bern felt the crunch before she heard the scream—the sickening, wet pop of two testicles yielding under the blunt force of her boot.

*“Uuughh?!”*

The bandit’s knees buckle instantly, his mask’s grin tilting toward the sky as his voice cracks into a sound more suited to a stepped-on frog. His hands fly downward but Bern’s follow up punch finds his hanging balls first and doubles the *male only agony* that shoots up his stomach.

*“My Balls!!!”*

“Oh fuck—She got Rick!” The third bandit lunges with a rusted dagger, his breath reeking.

Bern ducks under his swing easily, her small tail twitching as she spins. Her elbow finds his ribs with a satisfying *thud*, but it’s her bony knee that ruins him.

“Choke on them!” Bern demands before forcing his marble size balls to shudder against her merciless force.

“Nono wa*AIIIITTTT!!!”*

The impact is textbook. Just *below* the belt, just above the thighs, right where a man’s most *vulnerable cargo dangles* like healthy fruit. Bern felt the satisfying *give* of soft *testicular tissue* collapsing under her kneecap and the way his body instinctively curls around the pain like a dying spider.

“*Auuhhhh!!!* Mmghggg…Ughhh *Myyy Ballllsss!!!”*

The bandit’s breath left him in a wheezing, high-pitched wheeze, his dagger slipping from limp fingers as he cries.

Bern doesn’t let him fall though. Instead she grabs a fistful of his hair and mask, yanks him upright just long enough to whisper, "Eggs break easy today," before driving her forehead into his nose.

***CRRK!***

“*Bwwahh!”*

The mask shatters and blood spatters the walls in a wet arc.

“Oh man…not again…”

The first bandit whimpers in fear as he hesitates smartly. His buddies were too busy cradling their respective disasters to be useful and he didn’t want that for himself.

“Get…her…*oouuughh*…”

The sword one was hyperventilating on the ground with his hands cupped between his legs and the other one is spitting teeth and whining about his "poor sack."

*Shit, shit, shit! What do I do now?*

“Hiya!” The mouse girl seizes the opening and twists free with a frantic kick to her captor’s shin.

“Ag! You like bitch—!”

The bandit snarls and reaches for her again but freezes at the sound of Bern’s katana clearing its sheath. Not the metallic *shinggg* of a dramatic draw. Just the quiet, lethal slide of polished steel that now rests below the heavy twin orbs outlined in his leather pants.

“*Eep*! M-Mercy!”

The blade’s edge hovers a hair’s length from the bandit’s manhood, its clean surface catching a sliver of the sun as Bern tilted it slightly. Just enough to make the poor bandit’s scrotum retract in fear.

"Tell me," she said, voice calm as a still pond, "you ever think about having kids?"

“Oh goddess Oracle, don’t let this happen! I’m sorry!” The man pleads, knowing that he may not walk away from this with his testicles intact.

“D-Do it! Cut his sack off!”

The mouse girl, now free and rightfully angry, clutches her younger sister to her jiggly chest and covers her ears so she doesn’t have to worry about the pathetic men’s cries.

“Hm. I should cut them off, shouldn’t I?” Bern considers it as her focus remains on the man frozen before her. She likes watching his adam’s apple bob like a cork in the river.

“P-Please Don’t! Anything but—*Owwahhh!!!”*

Jumping forward within an eye blink, Bern’s left foot buries itself underneath the bandits hefty sperm tanks to lodge them into his stomach. Unlike the others though, his won’t drop ever again…

“Shut up! No one was asking you, you *eggless* freak.”

The impact wasn’t just felt, it was *heard*. A wet, meaty *thwomp* that made the mouse girl’s little sister clamp both hands over her own mouth in horrified fascination.

The man’s scream started low, a guttural *"ooof"* forced from his lungs, that then spiral into a *glass-shattering falsetto* as he folds forward like a broken statue.

“*Nnnghuuu Nutttts!”*

His knees hit the cobblestones before he even realized he'd fallen. His mask clatters away as he clutches at Bern's armored boot, his voice completely broken.

“My…My Nuts?! *My Nutssss!?!!* Where…Oh Gods…Where Are My Nuts?!?”

“Hopefully somewhere, where they can’t get you into anymore trouble.”

Bern sheathes her katana in one smooth motion, making the click of the guard settling into place sound like a final bell to this altercation.

“Next time, don’t give someone a reason to crush your fragile eggs.”