The Duel of Lord Midnight and Sir Cerulean (Nebby)

(Just a bit of fun for the contest. I don’t think it came out that great but fuck it. *COMPETITION* Gentlemen fluffies, the tiger, and other peculiarities of high fluffy society.)

Sir Cerulean and Lord Midnight were both known for their impeccable fashion sense and their love of fine hats. Lord Midnight was a dapper fluffy, with a sleek black coat and a tall top hat perched atop his glossy black mane. Sir Cerulean, on the other hand, was a portly fluffy with a dark blue coat and a bowler hat that he wore at a jaunty angle. His light blue mane was powdered white and styled into neat curls.

One day, while attending a garden party hosted by the esteemed Lady Butterscotch, the two fluffies found themselves in yet another heated argument over whose hat was superior.

“Midnight, dat bowler hat am simpweh ghastweh. Yu hat am nothin’ compawed tu Cewuwean’s top hat,” Sir Cerulean sneered, adjusting his own hat with a smug look on his face.

“Top hat? Pwease, top hat am su wast season. Midnight’s bowwew am da epitome of so…sophis… sophistee… Midnight’s hat am fanciew,” Lord Midnight retorted, puffing out his chest.

The argument escalated quickly, with the two fluffies shouting and gesturing wildly. The other fluffies at the party watched in amusement, sipping their tea and nibbling on cucumber sandwiches.

Finally, Sir Cerulean had had enough. “Enuff! Fwuffy chawwenge yu to duew! We settwe dis once an’ fo’ aww,” he declared, pawing at the floor like a bull about to charge.

Lord Midnight nodded. “Bewy weww, Cewuwean. May da bestes’ fwuffie win.”

The two fluffies faced off in the center of the garden, surrounded by a circle of onlookers. They reared up on their hind legs, eyes locked on each other with intense focus, and began to paw at each other with their hooves. The dull thud of hooves clashing against hooves filled the air as they grunted and snorted with exertion.

The duel was intense, with both fluffies landing brutal blows and narrowly dodging attacks. Lord Midnight attacked fast and brutally, but Sir Cerulean was surprisingly agile despite his extra weight, darting and weaving around Lord Midnight’s attacks. The two fluffies battled back and forth, neither one gaining the upper hand.

With a fierce battle cry, Lord Midnight lunged at Sir Cerulean, hooves flashing as he delivered a series of quick, powerful kicks. Sir Cerulean managed to block most of the attacks, but one managed to land, sending him stumbling backwards. Lord Midnight pressed his advantage, raining down blow after blow on the smaller fluffy. Blood began to seep from Sir Cerulean’s wounds, staining his artificially white mane a dark crimson.

But Sir Cerulean refused to back down.

“Am dat aww yu got, Midnight?” Sir Cerulean spat, despite the pain he was in. He gritted his teeth and fought back with all his might, landing a few solid hits of his own. The onlookers watched in shock and awe, some even placing bets on who would emerge victorious. The grass beneath them was now slick with blood, the air filled with the coppery scent of it.

“Midnight just getting stawted!” Lord Midnight sneered, launching himself at the smaller fluffy once again.

Sir Cerulean braced himself and met the attack head-on, the two fluffies colliding with a loud crash. They rolled around on the ground, limbs flailing as they tried to gain the upper hand. Lord Midnight’s hooves found purchase on Sir Cerulean’s stomach, and he began to viciously kick and stomp on the smaller fluffy. Sir Cerulean let out a series of pained yelps, but still he refused to give in.

The two fluffies continued to fight, their movements growing more and more desperate as they struggled for dominance. The sound of hooves against flesh filled the air, along with the wet, sickening sound of bones breaking. Blood sprayed from their wounds, painting the grass and onlookers a deep red.

Finally, Lord Midnight managed to pin Sir Cerulean to the ground, hooves pressed against the smaller fluffy’s throat. Sir Cerulean struggled and gasped for air, his eyes bulging as he tried to break free. But Lord Midnight’s grip was too strong. With a triumphant snarl, Lord Midnight delivered a powerful kick to Sir Cerulean’s head. Sir Cerulean let out a pained yelp and lay there, unmoving. Blood pooled around his head, staining the grass a deep red.

Lord Midnight stood over him, panting and triumphant, as the onlookers cheered and applauded. “Midnight towd yu top hat am bettah,” he gloated, feeling a sense of triumph and pride wash over him.

The garden was now a gruesome scene of blood and violence, but to the fluffy ladies and gentlemen gathered, it was simply a matter of honor and pride.