1v1 Single
Style: Set
DQ: 7 days
Damage Cap: 50%
Banned moves: Anything goes baby!
Arena: Some dive in lower Manhattan
Just some indeterminate bar in the city, this place smells heavily of alcohol, BO and piss. (Don't even -try- the bathrooms.) The patrons are at best drunkard bums and better described as imbibed apes, and the liquor they serve will set off radiological alarms. So what kind of battlefield is this?
Well, apparently when two trainers get drunk they find it to be a good idea to get their Pokémon drunk, as well. Noone really knows why, but it's probably in a similar vein to beer goggles. Of course, neither trainer is in much of a state to issue commands, and their Pokémon will soon be in no state to listen.
Upon being chosen each Pokémon is served gratuitous amounts of alcohol and set off on their way to have a go at each other.. if they can stay on their feet. The barkeep is about as apathetic to this, it seems, as to any other bar fight; and trust they're common.
Moves are selected completely random, similar to Metronome, from the Pokémon's available move pool. Any move may be used, included OHKO's, however should they hit they cannot break the damage cap and will deal an instant 50% tops.
Both Pokémon being lit off their arses will have an inflated ego and a boosted pain tolerance; essentially giving them both 150% HP and letting them go longer.
The bar is full of rickety and amusingly destructible objects, as well; and arena damage will become apparent. Apparently, the barkeep doesn't take into consideration supernatural powers. Hopefully soon he will~
Now, bar patrons will probably crowd around and chant a drunken Fight! chant; they may also throw things or get aggressive. Every action there is a 1% chance of a miffed patron trying to start a bar fight with one of the Pokémon, in which case they will lose their action that turn and take 5% untyped damage to knock the sucker out.
Bottles may also find themselves flying at either competitor, and each action there is also a 1% chance of an errant flying object hurling into the ring. Of course, aim is questionable, as is the actual contents of the bottles. There is a 15% chance of is containing more drink that will restore 5% HP to the Pokémon who catches it (Whether with their hand or their face), a 15% chance of it restoring 5% Energy, and a 20% chance of it dealing 3% untyped damage. Finally, at a 50% chance it will miss outright.
And finally, in this state the competitors will be less than capable of holding a steady battle. Every action there is a 5% chance of either Pokémon falling victim to temporary negative effects. There is an equal chance of one of four actions happened:
Falling asleep: The Pokémon will completely nod out, lowering both its defences by 3 stages until awoken and waking up after either 3 actions or after being struck by an offensive move.
Vomiting: The Pokémon will empty its stomach.. all over their opponent's face. This will totally gross their opponent out, and lower their defences by 3 stages for 3 actions.
Falling over: The Pokémon will completely lose its balance and fall right on its arse, causing them to lose that action and be inflicted with mild confusion.
Punchdrunk Swing: The Pokémon will forgo its supernatural powers in favour of slugging their opponent in the face. This will deal 5% untyped damage at 70% accuracy.
“Welcooome! I’ve… been waitin’ for ya, trainerzz… ugh.” As soon as L’il Dwagie and Zora of Termina opened the modest double doors of the bar, they were nearly blasted off their feet by the horrific (meaning intoxicating) smell of the arena and by the loud, slurred voice of the obviously-drunken referee. Said person was now stumbling towards the two newcomers, nearly tripping over her feet several times and crashing into five other crazy drunkards along the way, all the while gripping tightly at her head and seemingly on the verge of ripping her hair out. Clearly she had been there for a while, and had already drunk her heart out.
“Welcome, welc’m… Yeah, s’really good to see ya…
Have some booze!” The referee pulled two jugs of beer out of nowhere, the glass containers filled to the brim with the foamy liquid. She shoved them into the faces of the trainers, causing a good amount of the stuff to spill out. “No need teh be stingy, ya know?” Grinning widely, Dwagie and Zora snatched up their respective jugs and began to drink the contents at an astounding rate. No, drink wasn’t the right word – they literally drained the jugs as if their mouths were vacuums and their stomachs were insatiable black holes. Within moments all the beer was gone.
At some point between draining her jugs of beer, Dwagie managed to grip her Venonat’s Pokeball (albeit knocking three others off her belt in the process) and send out the purple bug. Likewise, Zora miraculously called out her choice, a Cyndaquil, on her first try. Both Pokemon were at first overwhelmed by the uncouth atmosphere of the bar, but after a fair amount of coaxing – that is, getting their snouts forcibly shoved into intoxicating liquids – they soon reached the same divine psychological state as their trainers. Five new imbibed chimps had joined the crowd. Pre-battle preparations completed, the referee whipped a microphone out of her pocket and yelled into it, “Battle… zzs
start!”
After that, she promptly passed out in a dead faint.
Round One
L’il Dwagie (O)
Evil Mothra (F) <Tinted Lens>
Health: 150%
Energy: 100%
Status: Soaked to the core by alcohol. Utterly under the influence.
Commands: You’re Drunk ~ You Fruit ~ Flail Around!
Zora of Termina (O)
Cyndra (F) <Blaze>
Health: 150%
Energy: 100%
Status: Snout is completely wet with beer. Nauseous, but giddy all the same.
Commands: Isn’t This A Twist, Cynd? ~ You’re The Drunk One For Once ~ Go Squish The Mothball Or Something
With the referee down for the count, things were definitely going to become… interesting, to say the least. At least she had the decency to fall onto a couch, lest she be trampled within a few minutes. But who cared about the referee? Certainly not the trainers, who seemed too preoccupied with their alcohol to worry about anything else.
Unlike their trainers, however, the Pokemon actually seemed to be doing something productive: namely, beating each other up with whatever came to mind. Cyndra took a deep breath, plucking a small mote of a particularly hot, dense flame as she did so, and exhaled. The Will-o-Wisp drifted forth, along with a disgusting wave of stinky breath. Much like its creator, the flame seemed inebriated: it swayed and wavered, carving out an erratic path in the air that was probably three times as long as the shortest route to its target. Mothra’s facial features twitched – man, Cyndra needed a breath mint! – but she was nonetheless unaware of her small, fiery assailant before it was too late. The Will-o-Wisp struck Mothra in the backside, leaving behind an ugly scorch mark and the smell of something burning.
The Venonat reeled indignantly and strained to rub at the burn, but due to insanely stubby arms she was doomed to fail. In her distress, Mothra lost her balance and fell flat on her face with an unhappy cry.
So tat’s how it iss, eh…? Positively seething now, she willed the wellsprings of her supernatural powers forth, commanding them to consume, smolder,
destroy! A small white light began to grow in front of the felled bug, growing larger and larger until it was nearly as large as Mothra herself. With a quiver, it shot off, making a beeline for Cyndra. Despite her best attempts to sidestep (lurch) out of the way, the orb of pure energy followed unerringly to slam into the fire mouse’s side. The Cyndaquil squeaked as she toppled over into the leg of a chair. Meanwhile, Mothra had finally struggled back onto her feet. She frowned. No broken furniture, no shattered glass, no screaming people… the magnitude of her attack was less than she’d have liked.
Cyndra didn’t even bother trying to stand up again. Even though the wooden leg pressed against her spine in a rather painful fashion, her head was spinning so much she was afraid she’d vomit if she made any sudden movements. Thus, the fire mouse settled on a technique that required only fierce concentration. A faint rumble was heard, accompanied by a slight quiver. The bartender frowned. Puzzled, he glanced up, a half-polished glass still in his hand. It seemed like that glass was destined never to be fully polished, though, because at that moment the shaking of the ground grew much more pronounced. The glass fell out of the bartender’s hand. Meanwhile, people yelled, holding onto tables, poles, even each other, in an effort to stay on their feet. Goblets, which were once neatly stacked on shelves, fell to the ground, producing shower after shower of broken glass. Mothra gave a panicked squeak and looked around, trying to find the source of the earthquake. So occupied was she that she didn’t notice the ground underneath her rapidly grow hotter.
With a magnificent groan, the earth buckled and split, creating spidery cracks along the tiles of the bar. And with a final heave, a great fissure opened in the floor, bringing with it a great geyser of molten rock. It shot skywards, scorching and breaking chunks of plaster off the ceiling. The inhabitants of the bar raised their voice in a single, piercing scream as they dashed towards the door, knocking over several of their fellows in their haste. The slower, unluckier ones were either hit by particularly large lumps of plaster or outright struck by globs of lava, and a few people just fainted from sheer horror. Miraculously, the drunk trainers remained unharmed throughout the entire attack.
This couldn’t be said for Mothra. She had to bear the greatest agony of all, as she was the only living being to actually be engulfed by the Lava Plume. The superheated rock seared through her fur and exoskeleton and proceeded to scorch her delicate flesh. When she opened her mouth to screech in pain, lava dribbled down her throat. There she stood, burning inside and out, her only solace being that the attack couldn’t last forever. And indeed it couldn’t; Cyndra, exhausted from holding open the fissure, let her focus slip, and the crack in the earth all but closed. Its fury quelled, the lava stopped gushing forth, leaving behind several cooling pools of melted material and a severely-damaged bar.
It was several moments before Mothra recuperated enough to stand up. Her mandibles twitched nervously; no matter what she did, she wouldn’t be able to match
that. Her trainer would be so disappointed with her – actually, on second thought, she was probably too stoned to care. Nevertheless, the Venonat had to vent her frustration somehow. She took in a deep breath, then belted out several incredibly high-pitched shrieks that made even the unconscious referee wince. Zora of Termina groaned and rubbed at her temples. Somehow, though, the full effects of the sound waves were lost on the actual target, as Cyndra merely tilted her head back and watched the world spin around her with mild amusement.
After several minutes, during which Cyndra stared into space, drooling, and Mothra kicked at the ruined floor of the bar, the former let out a rather loud snort. The Venonat looked up with a raised eyebrow. Cyndra continued to snort, the sounds gradually getting quieter, and though the first few were rather startling, they failed to have any real lasting effect on her opponent.
Coming to the conclusion that her foe wasn’t going to make an (effective) attack, Mothra chittered and began to work the venom sacs situated in the roof of her mouth. Deadly poison began to dribble around her fangs – in her drunken delirium, the Venonat nearly swallowed it herself – and when the amount was deemed sufficient, Mothra tottered forward, stubby hands flailing about in front of her, and sank her teeth into Cyndra’s shoulder. The Cyndaquil squealed and rolled over, dislodging her purple attacker in the process. Two small holes were now visible in the Pokemon’s skin, one of them oozing a curious yellowish liquid. Disgusted, Cyndra wiped it off her short fur. Faintly she realized that she couldn’t feel the sting of toxins in her system, despite the peculiar colour of one of her wounds – she must’ve just barely avoided getting poisoned.
L’il Dwagie (O)
Evil Mothra (F) <Tinted Lens>
Health: 133%
Energy: 87%
Status: Intimidated and quite miserable. Completely dry now, but also completely scorched. Burned (3% per round).
Zora of Termina (O)
Cyndra (F) <Blaze>
Health: 139%
Energy: 86%
Status: In some pain, but not nearly as much as Mothra. Half zoned-out.
Terrain notes
The bar is completely deserted now, save for the trainers, Pokemon, and referee, of course (and a few unconscious bystanders, but really, who cares about them?). There is the reminder of a fissure in the ground, complete with cracked and shattered tiles. A few half-hardened pools of lava are spattered here and there. The ceiling above the closed crack is badly burned and crumbling, and pieces of plaster, their sizes ranging from small to quite large, are scattered on the area below. Behind the counter, the ground is littered with shattered glass.
Final notes
Zora attacks first next round.
You guys have no idea how much fun this was to write. Dwagie, you’re super-awesome for making this challenge. x3
Cyndra’s attacks: Will-o-Wisp, Lava Plume, and Snore (which failed).
Mothra’s attacks: Natural Gift, Supersonic (which missed), and Poison Fang.
I couldn’t help but exaggerate the Lava Plume. Come on, it’s a geyser of lava from the ground, and it only has a BP of 80. It’s begging to be exaggerated. xD;
I may have missed something – this is a lot more than I normally write, so I’m too lazy to look through it again. Point out any errors, please and thanks~
