[15] I Liek Squirtles vs Wargle (ref: Meursault)

1 vs 1
DQ: 5 days
Damage Cap: 35%
Banned/Restricted Moves: OHKOs, Pain Split, moves that KO the user; direct recovery is restricted to 1 use in the match, and Chills are restricted to 5 uses
Arena: Santalune City

Like an emerald in the rough, this town in the center-south of Kalos glows verdant with lush grass and forest green roofs mottled with rustic pavement and ancient stone walls. The battle begins in the circular fountain plaza at the very center of the city, from which most else can be seen, including the majestic Trainer's School right across, the great Bug-Type Gym in the distance, and the tables of several small cafés and restaurants in the fountain area, although most seem dwarfed by comparison to the notable establishment atop a hill nearby.

For this round of the tournament, each trainer's Pokémon will be wearing a specified hat from the Santalune Boutique. Each hat grants its wearer the ability to use certain moves (usually three), and often adds an Ability to the wearer's current Abilities as well. After five rounds, the currently worn hats will be replaced by another set of two hats, again chosen at random. The hats' descriptions and effects are as follows:

• Bamboo Sprig Hat: A round cap that closely resembles Pangoro, bringing about an aloof sense of menace for the hat seeker that's not to be messed with. Grants the moves Sky Uppercut, Crunch, and Parting Shot, along with the Scrappy ability.
• Boater: A nifty straw hat that keeps the head cool in sunshine and protected in the storm, perfect for weathering a long voyage. Grants the moves Rain Dance, Hurricane, and Tailwind, along with the Swift Swim ability.
• Camo Cap: A beanie that blends right into the wilderness with its military-grade motif, complete with grenades and reinforcements, enabling its wearer to move in and out of cover -- or maybe their opponent just doesn't want to be seen with someone who actually wears camo. Grants the moves Egg Bomb, Night Slash, and Attack Order, along with the Sniper ability.
• Exotic Cap: A repurposed casquette with bold patterns, for those who aim to make an unusual fashion statement and also don't mind looking like they have a toadstool for a head. Grants the moves Hex, Venom Drench, and Infestation, along with the ability Effect Spore.
• Fedora: A distinctive kind of hat that has been through many associations in pop culture, and we're pretending for our own sake that the most recent one is Indiana Jones. Grants the moves Rock Slide, Bulldoze, and Power Whip, along with the ability Sand Rush.
• Felt Hat: A porkpie hat famously worn by a trainer that Professor Sycamore placed all of his faith in. Grants the moves Spiky Shield, Mystical Fire, and Water Shuriken.
• Knit Cap: A woolly, tight-fitting beanie with which one can not only keep warm, but thrive in the cold. Grants the moves Blaze Kick, Frost Breath, and Hail, along with the ability Ice Body.
• Logo Cap: A snapback with a readily recognizable sigil that's associated with the Kalos Pokémon League. Grants the moves Gyro Ball, Dragon Tail, Flame Charge, and Clamp.
• Sports Cap: A polyester cap for athletic types who want to sprint and make sparks fly when the sun is out. Grants the moves Quick Attack, Acrobatics, and Electro Ball, along with the ability Unburden.

I liek Squirtles's active squad
Assigned hat: Exotic Cap

Mr. Turtle the male Wartortle <Torrent> @ Wacan Berry
Cuckoo the male Hoothoot <Insomnia>
Roosevelt the male Ursaring <Quick Feet>
Fisticuffs the male Mienfoo <Regenerator>
Gobi the male Cacnea <Sand Veil> @ Lucky Egg
Blue Mage the male Shinx <Intimidate>
Luke Skywalker the male Elgyem <Synchronize>
Le Fantôme de l'Opéra the male Gastly <Levitate>
Von Chosais the male Chespin <Bulletproof>
Nyoom the female Yanma <Speed Boost>

Wargle's active squad
Assigned hat: Sports Cap

Ferno the male Charmander <Blaze> @ Fire Stone
Sleezy the male Slakoth <Truant> @ Amulet Coin
Washibon the male Rufflet <Keen Eye> @ Eviolite
Caimanly the male Sandile <Intimidate>
Martimur the male Cubchoo <Snow Cloak>
Scraggy the male Scraggy <Moxie>
Zona the female Solosis <Magic Guard> @ Life Orb
Androgynous Porygon the genderless Porygon <Download> @ Up-Grade
Andro the female Timburr <Sheer Force> @ Black Belt
Glauert the male Skrelp <Adaptability> @ Lucky Egg

Up next:
1.I Liek Squirtles sends out
2.Wargle sends out and issues commands
3.I Liek Squirtles issues commands

Time for Mr. Turtle!

Scraggy, let's go!

We've got a nice speed advantage thanks to Unburden, so let's get our attack good and ready to go. Work Up so you can hit nice and hard. Then go straight for power with Electro Ball. After that, Snarl his offense down. If you're taunted action one, use Snarl. If you can't hit for any reason other than a substitute, Work Up. If you're taunted and he's unhittable, idk dig down then stay under and keep working up I guess, but I really don't want to.


Work Up/Snarl/Dig ~ Electro Ball/Work Up/Dig ~ Snarl/Work Up/Dig

Alright, Mr. Turtle, here's the lowdown.

Start off with a Yawn, then Protect against that Electro Ball. Follow up with a nice little Water Spout. If the Yawn didn't go through for some reason, try Waterfall.

Yawn~Protect~Water Spout/Waterfall

Santalune city had faced its greatest threat yet: a planeful of Asberians. The locals assumed it was a planeful- they hoped it was a planeful; the invaders were strange and mystical beings capable of nothing but sheer madness. They had politely (disgusting) asked to borrow a selection of fine headwear from their local boutique, even offering to pay for the damages. The nerve!

It all got worse when they erected completely safe and collapsible stages on which to hold or view some sort of ceremony. Last a resident dared to check near the ascending stacks of stands, they were greeted with a toothy grin (the blasted cannibals!) and a welcome to view the recreational events that would transpire. Apparently the dastards had the gall to invite Santalune’s resident gym leader to spectate and even record the battles. And Viola disrespected everyone in a shocking turn of events by showing up! They had to flock to the stands with her, to sit there and watch the battles and simmer there next to her. Yeah, that would show her! Oh look a match is starting.



The aptly named Mr. Turtle plopped out of his Pokeball, a partner of the more aptly named I Liek Squirtles. The smack of his feet on the ground made the mycellic cap he was wearing droop over his eye, and an irritated claw clicked as it nudged the brim up again. Their names were very odd for the Kalos’ residents, but they chalked it up to damn foreigners. To everyone’s amazement, the Wartortle lifted a claw to his face and did not exact a rude gesture on his lizardlike foe, opting to emit a fine cloudy mist from his mouth. The crowd oohed and aahed and yawned in return because that cloud had some extreme dispersal. Scraggy, who won the award for most aptly named, looked around at the spectators with a cocked head. Why was everyone so lethargic? It was a great day to get a battle roaring and his opponent was outright insulting the league with his misplaced fatigue! Some of the locals’ good “humour” had seemed to rub off on him, and he stomped forward with a glare in his eye. He picked up his pants as he walked, then lifted them higher, brought them to his waist, then lifted them to his neck again. All while wearing the most determined expression he could muster. He stopped just a ways away from Mr. Turtle, flinging out an arm. It shook as he panted, and the sweat shook off the brim of his cap when he called the water type out.

The Wartortle’s eyes rolled across the sky, landing momentarily to notice a cool looking cloud. He pointed up, and Scraggy’s vision followed but for a moment. The lizard growled and shot his glare back down, only to blink wildly and avert his gaze. A bright green shell of what looked like glass encircled a grinning Wartortle.

Scraggy groaned and placed his hands on his hips, palms open. A crackle ran down from his sweat-soaked cap, just a hint of electricity pulsing downwards. He wondered if his ablusive ritual had helped in this endeavour, but it really wasn’t the time for that, and he knew it. He narrowed his eyes, trying to find any cracks in the nigh-impentrable defense. There were simply bold lines of dark green on the rim of every hexagonal plate, nary a fracture between them. He sighed and decided to use the movement he’d already performed. Supercharged this time, he thrust his grip upon the sides of his pants and pulled up I defiance, then down again, then up. This was a work out for the ages, he thought! All while staring menacingly at his opponent’s safety bubble. The crowd booed in agreement, what kind of an alien hides behind a shield! They don’t need shields, they’re super powerful aliens and stuff!

The simmering heat left his hands smoking, and the strenuous movement didn’t help for the rubber burns, not enough to singe, but definitely enough to make him open and close his palms. It was funny how the hats did that, he thought, staring at his knuckles. The tingling seemed to numb as he did so, almost imperceptible now. But his hand was growing bigger, more flat against his gaze. Why was it blurring…

Scraggy plopped onto the ground in front of Mr. Turtle. The water type took two furtive glances to each side, a dramatic gesture more for himself the crowd in front of him, and snickered. He rubbed his hands together and craned his neck forward. Inside his shell he set off a deep rumbling, a chain of chemical reactions that cranked and churned the organ that produced his watery blasts. He had set it to fire, but wasn’t letting it out. His mouth gushed as droplets tried to seep between his lips, but he kept snapped shut as the force dared to tear apart his jaw. He threw his arms back to brace himself and swung his head downwards, straight at the Scraggy’s face.

The crowd was mystified, locked in place by the rushing cylinder of water that stormed out of the Wartortle. It bored into the Scraggy, for a moment battering against his limp form then picking him up with its force and thrusting him far across the battlefield. The spout kept going, the downward angle curving it into the dark type and sliding him across the cobbles. He smacked his head into the fountain, a funny place to stop, thought the spectators. Mr. Turtle gasped, as if he’d nearly drowned. A man in the crowd adjusted his spectacles and commented on whether or not gushing water would be drowning for a water type. Some of the spectators nodded in approval and one of them thwacked him over the head and told him to pass the popcorn.



Calculations:
Scraggy’s Health:
100 – 18 (Water Spout) = 82%

Scraggy’s Energy:
100 – 2 (Work Up) – 2 (Work Up) = 96%

Mr. Turtle’s Health:
100%

Mr. Turtle’s Energy:
100 – 4 (Yawn) – 2 (Protect) – 9 (Water Spout) = 85%


Notes:
-Mr. Turtle did in fact move slower on every action. I just described Yawn going first to fit it in better.
-Water Spout’s gushing force knocked the sleep timer down a bit.
-Pants are the greatest thing you could put on a Pokemon.
-I kind of despise the XY "sprites", so I hope you're fine with me using the BW ones. Scraggy looks disturbing in his XY shot, while BW has him as a lovable pantscamp.

-I Liek Squirtles is up to command.

I actually prefer the animated BW sprites, so it's totally fine. ^^

Great job out there, Mr. Turtle. Let's see how this plays out, hmm?

Start this off with a Haze. After that, two Aura Spheres are in order.

If Scraggy is off digging (or otherwise unhittable, bar Substitute), use Mud Sport. If you've already used Mud Sport, Withdraw.

Haze~Aura Sphere/Mud Sport~Aura Sphere/Mud Sport/Withdraw

Hmm ok. That didn't go as I hoped.


Snore while you're asleep. Hopefully he flinches and that Haze fails. When you're awake Torment him, unless somehow you wake up on the first action then Taunt. If you're used Torment already, use Feint Attack

[/b]Snore/Taunt ~ Snore/Torment ~ Snore/Torment/Feint Attack[/b]

Mr. Turtle had one claw on the fountain’s basin, and one clutched onto the front of his shell. The incessant hurling of water had made the rest of his insides want to lurch out of his mouth, if only because they were following the leader. At least, it felt that way. He really couldn’t take much mo- ZzZZZZZZzzzz. Mr. Turtle threw his arms to his ears and gripped them tightly with his claws. He fell forward onto the ground, he wasn’t holding himself up anymore. The thundercrack of noise continued, it only seemed like guttural lightning had struck at first, but now it was just someone hammering each atom in the air really quickly.

Mr. Turtle rolled over on his shell and emitted a fine mist from his maw. He only dared to slightly open his mouth, for the fear of the sound coming crashing into him with its buzz and its pressure. A faint hiss escaped his lips, followed by a trail of smoke turning like a cloth. While the spectators could definitely guess it was smoke from the way it spread into the air, they were still gripping the edges of their seats. It was like watching fabric unravel to the greatest extent, spraying out across the battlefield. The serene mist spread across the town square like a weightless blanket. Implied currents of air twirled through the haze, leaving waves of bouncing mist in their wake. There were only guesses as to where the gusts went, but the upturned tufts of haze they left were enough, some flung outwards in great big spikes before falling back into the tumbling ocean of calm.

Scraggy snored again. A ring of emptiness expanded in the mist around the dark type, when he’d stopped it tried to crawl back in. Another pulse, another thunder of breath. Mr. Turtle scrunched his eyes shut, it didn’t sting like before, and the air didn’t shake and quiver around him and beat him with its violent movements. He sighed inwardly, mouth still cautiously clamped, at least the haze had done its job. Somehow, he’d avoided the blast of noise. Somehow. He spun around his shell and used the momentum to kick back into a standing position, unsettling the fading mist. It was spreading further and further into the town now, and one fruitless cabbage seller was fearful for the life of his produce, not that anything would actually happen to it. Mr. Turtle pushed a palm outwards and a crackle of blue light wound around his fingers like they were lightningrods. A sphere of blue simmered into existence around his palm, and he thrust it outwards with a breath. It sped into the Scraggy, striking him right in the forehead. His crinkly skin was somewhat crushed by the blow, and his eyes snapped open. His vision was...heavy? It felt clouded, it looked clouded, like his eyes were suddenly made of water...

He huffed from where he was. No longer was he drenched in his own worked up sweat, but the soothing, minty dampness of the long-gone mist. The ground beneath him was also wet. He hurried up out of the puddle, and wiped his brow in relief when he saw it was just water. Wiping his brow was the indicator he needed, his rough fingers rubbing against his temple noted the bruised, crushed quality of his skin. He glared right at Mr. Turtle, whose other palm was extended now, and pointed at his forehead. The hell was this? What did you do to my head while I was sleeping? Would you like it if someone did that to you? Hmm? Would you now? I think you’d like it very much if someone took your hard-earned shell of skin and just ripped it to pieces, right? It took me weeks to finally settle into this, and now you’ve torn a hole in it. A hole. In my head. You’ve made a hole in my head, how happy do you think that makes me?

Scraggy continued ranting about his messed up head, but the point had gotten across. Mr. Turtle’s arm sagged, and the crackles faded away. He couldn’t do that again, not while Scraggy was talking about it, that was just…wrong. But his trainer ordered him to, it was a battle, why did it matter what the opponent thought. A claw tapped against his shell, he didn’t even notice it was his. He drew circles with it on the soft underbelly, thinking how he’d feel if someone cracked shelly open. He averted his gaze to the shiny cobbles between them, but he could only see his murky reflection staring back at him from the puddles trapped between the stones. He gulped.


Other:
-Haze is in effect for the next three actions.


Calculations:
Scraggy’s Health:
82 – 12 (Aura Sphere) = 70%

Scraggy’s Energy:
96 – 3 (Snore) – 3 (Snore) – 4 (Torment) = 86%

Mr. Turtle’s Health:
100 – 5 (Snore) = 95%

Mr. Turtle’s Energy:
85 – 3 (Haze) – 4 (Aura Sphere) = 78%


Notes:
-The first Aura sphere jerked Scraggy awake prematurely. Though I’m not sure he would’ve liked waking up to worse…
-Torment made Aura Sphere fail on action three, no alternative orders were specified for such a situation.
-Yay for BW sprites!
-Three more rounds before the hats gain a life of their own and send others to do the slavework.

-Wargle’s turn to command.

Hmm, ok then. Let's get this done right Scraggy.

Feint attack. Make sure to scare the PANTS off him hahaha *shot*

Ahem. Sorry. Once you're nice and close, hammer in an Electro Ball while the sun shines. Then get a nice Acrobatics in.

If you can't hit for anything besides a sub, taunt him. If you can't hit and have successfully used taunt, chill.

Feint Attack/Taunt/Chill ~ Electro Ball/Taunt/Chill ~ Acrobatics/Taunt/Chill

10% sub first action, followed up by charging and releasing a Focus Punch. End this with Icy Wind. If your Sub was broken by the Electro Ball, Aura Sphere and Counter instead.

10% Substitute~Focus Punch/Aura Sphere~Icy Wind/Counter

Scraggy hissed at Mr. Turtle, lifting his pants high above his head. The Wartortle was amused at how dexterous his foe happened to be, easily lifting the mass of outer-skin above him. Scraggy was now a yellow cylinder with legs. But he was a determined yellow cylinder, under the cover of darkness itself. You see, he believed he was truly invisible, that nothing could see him. And this belief was his unquestionable genius. He ran over to Mr. Turtle and smacked his head into the water type’s underbelly. Mr. Turtle was surprised that this was an attack, and he really didn’t see it coming. The pants migrated back to their homeland, the waist. Scraggy popped out and did some celebratory jazz hands. Didn’t see that, didja?

Mr. Turtle sauntered over to the fountain and kicked at the crumbling basin. A chunk fell off and onto his foot, causing him to grab it and wince. Was that the sacrifice he had to make? He groaned. Still clutching his foot, he carefully wiggled his bottom onto the rock and sat down. He made sure his tail wasn’t in the way, giving it a few cursory wags to make sure nothing had fallen on that.

Scraggy was growing impatient, impatient enough that his fingers were crackling with electricity. He perched them right above his pantspockets, lurching forward to look like a gunslinger ready to fire. Mr. Turtle met his gaze halfway, and looked up, defiantly sat upon the stone. Scraggy pulled an arm forward, swinging his palm out and stretching his index finger, a small sphere of electricity shot from it. More attentive audience members would have heard the lizard go pew pew. Now, lizards aren’t prone to having the best accuracy, and the ball curved as it approached Mr. Turtle, choosing to droop down into the stone he was sitting on. The shock ran across the rock, leaving smoking cracks dragging across it. Mr. Turtle’s seat sank a little when the heated chunks fell into a pile.

This had stirred him somewhat, and had alerted him to the enemy. His focused meditation upon the stone was complete, and he bounded forward with his face still turned up at the sky. His eyes were closed, but he did not need them. His feet were wobbly, but he did not need them. All that drove him was the contemplative chi of the universe he had gathered in his focused mind. He felt much smoother now, not him, but his mind. The concentration sailed from his head down into his fist, he could feel his nerves tingle as it passed. With a final smashing footstep he found himself in front of Scraggy. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel the world through the shifted focus. His fist barreled into the dark type, sending him screeching into the bleachers.

A child who had been headfirst in a bucket of popcorn tapped the top of Scraggy’s head. He moaned, saying something about ten more minutes. The child grumbled and slapped him on the forehead like he was the alarm clock. Scraggy jolted to attention, eyes widened, pupils miniscule. His arm bent at a right angle, palm facing the sky, his other arm did the same. He twisted his waist as he walked forward, limbering up. As he approached the halfway point to Mr. Turtle he was gone. A blur. There was the fading image of a Scraggy where he stood. Then another appeared at the fountain, gripping the stone wall sideways. Then another above Mr. Turtle, but he didn’t notice this one. Scraggy couldn’t feel the air rushing up to meet him, and he didn’t feel his foot connecting with Mr. Turtle’s head. But once his claws had dug in through the Wartortle’s hat his feeling returned and everything zoomed through him at once. He blinked.

Mr. Turtle cried out, being forced down by the sudden reptile on his head. He flung his head backward, and Scraggy reflexively kicked off in time. Some of the martial prowess was still in him. But not even that could save him from the cone of chilled air emerging from Mr. Turtle’s mouth. The pale mist that had been fogging the area was being sucked into the Wartortle’s mouth; a vacuum of mist around a singular screeching hole. It stopped, and not a moment later a blast of concentrated chill engulfed Scraggy. He was caught in the air, and the cold formed across his skin, digging in between the scales. Every seam they could find, they raided. The icy wisps were searching for a way into his body, he knew it, and it had to be. But they relented in the end, and decided to rest on his skin instead. He dropped to the ground, and stiffened his feet. His toes curled inwards in apprehension, and they smacked into the ground, some off the chunks of ice breaking off. He tried moving his toes again, but they were numbed.

The mist receded, perhaps complaining that it had been used enough. It fell away from the city like a retreating tide, some tendrils reaching into the air and fading away, some going in search of other places.



Calculations:
Scraggy’s Health:
70 – 22 (Focus Punch) – 5 (Icy Wind) = 43%

Scraggy’s Energy:
86 – 2 (Feint Attack) – 3 (Electro Ball) – 7 (Acrobatics) = 74%

Mr. Turtle’s Health:
95 – 7 (Feint Attack) – 10 (Small Substitute) = 78%

Mr. Turtle’s Substitute:
10 – 9 (Electro Ball) – 11 (Acrobatics) = chunked.

Mr. Turtle’s Energy:
78 – 5 (Small Substitute) – 9 (Focus Punch) – 4 (Icy Wind) = 60%

Notes:
-Electro Ball had a base power of 60.
-Super-Effective damage reducing berries do not activate if the attack hits a Substitute. Tested in the games (poor Garchompy got hit by his own FOR SCIENCE).
-I ref speed stages as a ±10 to the base stat (at least as an ongoing test). So Scraggy’s speed is now at 86, while Mr. Turtle is at 58.
-I’m not sure about the whole e-reffing, but I’ll cover this round to keep the battle moving.

-ILS called up to clean the fountain’s remains.

Not again...
(by the way, I think you switched Scraggy's postround stats around.)

Start this off with Brine, followed up with Aura Sphere, then another Brine.
If he has clones, sub any command with Aura Sphere. If he's Protecting, Withdraw.

Brine/Aura Sphere/Withdraw~Aura Sphere/Withdraw~Brine/Aura Sphere/Withdraw

fake out, then Drain punch health, then get rid of that berry


Fake Out ~ Drain Punch ~ Knock Off

Scraggy wouldn’t let the ice in his veins slow him down, he leapt forward, foot struck out in front of him. Mr. Turtle noticed the aerial projectile of the reptilian kind and shielded his face with his arms. Scraggy’s arc through the air brought him down right in front of the water type, his foot hitting the ground right by the Wartortle. With all the grace of a bow, Scraggy followed, staying motionless for a moment. Mr. Turtle could’ve sworn the attack would’ve hit by now, and his arms fell away from his face. He turned ar- Scraggy planted a fist into Mr. Turtle’s underbelly, squishing some of the soft shell. The Wartortle keeled over, gripping his stomach. Some wayward spores fell off his hat and coated Scraggy’s arm in a bright purple; he paid the strange itching no heed. The Wartortle fell onto his tail with a plop, and the outside of his shell rattled on the ground as he rolled about clutching his guts. Scraggy wouldn’t let the opportunity past, especially when he was feeling warmed up already. His raised his hand adjacent to his mouth and blew away imaginary smoke. He turned and winked at the audience, following it with the sound of a gun being cocked. He was startled at how he’d done it, but puffing out a cheek and smacking your tongue around got to the point eventually. He swung back to Mr. Turtle, using the twist to smash another fist into the Wartortle’s shell. This time right below where his gut was. Scraggy twisted his arm around, and the familiar green goo poured over the bruise, soaking it in its soupy mass. Scraggy’s fist, entrenched in the slime, pulsed green, and he untensed his shoulders.

Mr. Turtle’s face heaved out a burst of air, supposedly the last remaining bits of it in him. He oustretched his paws and shuffled them about in the air, trying to scoop in more of that delicious oxygen. He decided it would be faster if he paddled with his feet too, but when he pumped his legs forwards and backwards there was a scaly obstactle pushing back. Scraggy threatened a glare from his position over the water type, and nudged his head towards the arm still draining Mr. Turtle’s energy. The Wartortle gasped and kicked out, pushing off the dark type, plopping him onto the ground. Mr. Turtle slid across the wet pavement on the back of his shell, twisting occasionally. Crackles of red netted his arm in infrequent bursts, but slowly they grew and glew in intensity. Mr. Turtle eyed the Scraggy calmly at the end of every rotation, and while still spinning he threw the ball of red energy at him.

Scraggy flexed his fingers and ran at the orb, charging headfirst into it. His skull throbbed as it impacted with the front of his head, sending a shock of pain racing down his spine. But the adrenaline he’d built up was enough, and he ran away from the pain, as if leaving it to trail behind him. He flung out an arm as he approached and slapped the perpetual merry-go-round that was Mr. Turtle. His palm hit the side of the water type’s face, and offset his spinning. The shell tumbled and gyrated at odd angles, sending its occupant on a bouncing ride. It almost leapt onto one side, having acquired the necessary momentum, but stopped just short of the fountain’s edge. A part of the shell was perched on stone brim, leaving Mr. Turtle’s dazed head to pop out the bottom. As he kicked his feet out of the more elevated holes, a yellow berry rimmed with bright green foliage plopped into the splashing water.

Mr. Turtle felt the emptiness in his shell; his mid-battle snack wasn’t rolling around anymore. He hooked his legs onto inner wall of the fountain and pushed off the ground, right into the water. He righted himself in the ensuing splash of water, and immediately set to work searching for the berry. His gaze flitted across the shifting pool, looking for anything bright green and rubbery. His eyes almost betrayed him, but at the far edge by a drainage hole was perched the berry. He gasped as it shook against the current. A careful step forward sent a ripple of water onwards, and caused the Wartortle’s next step to seize in midair. The tiny front of a wave spread outwards, and gently nudged the berry into the drainage system. Mr. Turtle was still frozen.

Scraggy chuckled, whispering fatty just loud enough for Mr. Turtle to hear. The chelonian‘s neck twisted around, and his head followed suit, cocked to the side at an obscene angle. He raised a paw, and flicked a claw like he was gesturing to the water. A careless wave rose from the stilled water of the fountain, Mr. Turtle opened his mouth and chomped on the liquid. He gurgled and burbled, occasionally letting off puffs of steam and bubbles that were too quick to pop. A torrent of boiling water gushed towards the Scraggy, who held up his arms to stymie the blast. The heated substance seeped into his skin, tearing through the insides of his arms and wrapping the bone in pure heat. He shrieked and clutched at his right arm, leaving the flow to continue unobstructed into his face. He couldn’t shout for fear of swallowing the burning water, but his skin steamed and screamed for him, covered in water so hot that he was sending off smoke circles.



Calculations:
Scraggy’s Health:
43 + 4 (Drain Punch Self-Heal) – 12 (Aura Sphere) – 16 (Brine) - 3 (Poison) = 16%

Scraggy’s Energy:
74 – 4 (Fake Out) - 3 (Drain Punch) – 4 (Knock Off) = 64%

Mr. Turtle’s Health:
78 – 5 (Fake Out) – 8 (Drain Punch) – 11 (Knock Off) = 54%

Mr. Turtle’s Energy:
60 – 4 (Aura Sphere) - 7 (Brine) = 49%

Notes:
-Hats will be changed at the end of next round!
-Effect Spore managed to poison Scraggy on the first action, and his Shed Skin didn’t kick in at the end of the round.

-Wargle commands.

Go for broke! If you can't... then uh... Go for... broker?

Rest ~ Snore ~Snore/Facadex3

Alright. Let's finish this.

First turn, Fake Out. That should help. Then Focus Punch to seal the deal. If Scraggy's still standing, Aqua Jet.

Fake Out~Focus Punch~Aqua Jet

Scraggy’s eyelids drooped and a yawn lazed out of his mouth. The battle had gone on long enough, and it was more or less his naptime. Scraggy held himself to be a commendable example of a child, focused, determined, strong-minded, resolute- yawn- determined. But sleep knocked on his door, he couldn’t help but give in, it wasn’t even locked.

Mr. Turtle was not the nicest sandman, however. He would be the thug of slumberland, the brutish, menacing bouncer that kept you out of the sheep counting pen . Some called him homework, some called him deprivation, some called him a turtle. His tail swished once, and then he was gone. Off in a blue blur, feet cycling almost above the ground. His arms were outstretched, looking like he was coming in for a hug. The wet thump of feet, while growing alarmingly close, only managed to convince one of his lids to lift. Mr. Turtle brought his hands together in a clap, Scraggy’s head just happened to be there. There was suddenly a great weight pushing down on his ears, squeezing his head. His normally flat cheeks puffed up, with folds of skin crinkly across them. He moaned, trying to draw back the drowsiness. Scraggy now knew what it was like to be a lemon. He did not like being a lemon.

The citrus’ grip on him would not leave, as that’s what he thought the feeling of poison inside him was. Nothing but nutritious juice, just swashing about like he was a lemon waiting to be squeezed. He would be squeezed no longer. The Wartortle’s proud smile elongated and a sneer of teeth gleamed from under it. Scraggy noticed him balling up his fist. While his mind was shaking off sleep, he was functioning at an acceptable capacity. He opened his mouth, and faked a yawn. Mr. Turtle’s focusing stuttered for but a moment, a lapse in concentration only milliseconds wide. Scraggy’s still open mouth chomped down hard on Mr. Turtle’s knuckles. The blue skin grazed under his bite as the Wartortle pulled out his palm. Scraggy wore the sneer now, and he leapt upon the water type, pushing them both onto the ground. His fist balled up, quivering with rage. That damn turtle didn’t let him sleep. He smashed Mr. Turtle’s cheek. That damn turtle kept this lemony liquid feeling inside of him. He stamped on the soft undershell. That damn turtle thought he could charge up one of his moves right in front of him without even noticing. He turned around on top of Mr. Turtle’s shell and swiped his leg across, spinning about until he had gathered enough momentum to raise it above high. Like it was a top fumbling as it spun, he brought the spiraling foot down on Mr. Turtle’s nose. That did not fumble.

The Wartortle gripped at his crushed nostril, wailing tears out of his eyes. What was this? Why had his immaculate plan failed. The tears rolled further and faster, leaving trails of damp across his skin. His anguish continued boiling in him, until his weeping turned into snarls between damp coughs. He arched his head forward as best he could, enough that the blue ball of his head shone in the lingering sunlight. A spiral of water surrounded it and he gushed forward, thundering into the prone Scraggy. They both shot across the battlefield, and only for a moment was Scraggy surprised. Even though the aquatic headbutt still going strong into his stomach, he managed to claw at the exposed bits of skin under Mr. Turtle’s coat of water. They both rammed into the side of a stand, Scraggy splayed against an advertisement for the nearby café, and slid down a cup of coffee.



Calculations:
Scraggy’s Health:
16 – 4 (Fake Out) – 5 (Aqua Jet) - 3 (Poison) = 4%

Scraggy’s Energy:
64 – 8 (Facade) – 8 (Facade) = 48%

Mr. Turtle’s Health:
54 -14 (Facade) – 14 (Facade) = 26%

Mr. Turtle’s Energy:
49 – 4 (Fake Out) – 2 (Focus Punch -) 2 (Aqua Jet) = 41%

Notes:
-Scraggy wasn’t asleep on Action 2, so he defaulted to Façade.
-Docking 2% energy for the focusing part of the focus punch. A lot of energy is needed to charge it up, even if it was only partway.
-Effect Spore did not activate this round.

-Aaaaand since we’ve hit the end of the fifth round, you guys get new hats! They’ll be in effect at the beginning of next round, and I’ll write them in then as well:
Scraggy gets the:
Mr. Turtle gets the:

-I Liek Squirtles commands.

DQ Warning for I Liek Squirtles. The usual 48 hours to post your commands.

Well, this is it. Great job out there!

Start off with Aqua Jet, and then Water Pledge because why not? And finish with Bubblebeam because bubbles!!

Aqua Jet~Water Pledge~Bubblebeam

Fake out if you haven't used it, then Sucker Punch. If you have used fake out just sucker punch.


Fake Out/Sucker Punch ~ Sucker Punch x2