Young Writers Society

The bell rang shrill and sharp – a blade of sound that cut through the air. Malcolm stood like a pompous knight before them, the unpleasant noise his weapon. Worst of all, he wasn’t even aware of his affront, for the friends’ thoughts had naturally not been shared in his presence. To him, simply standing in their midst must have seemed offensive enough. Sadly, it was.

‘Ah, the Mandibuzzes have arrived!’ Mr Van der Brunnen called from the inside. ‘Enter and have at my tender existence.’

Even the Venipede was caught off-guard by the comment and did not enter the class so as to ponder its meaning. Minerva, who was behind Malcolm, was the first to recover and entered the class.

‘Sir, were you referring to us?’ she asked tentatively.

The Torkoal finished his entry before looking up. He stared at her for a few seconds, unblinking, before answering, ‘Oh, sorry; wrong class.’ He added another entry to his ledger. He then swept his head across his desk, searching for something in an exaggerated fashion. Evidently, he must have found it, for his head jerked to a stop and swayed back to the spot. It turned out to be his die, which he rolled twice.

‘Ah, how interesting – a nine, which means Leslie, versus a two, meaning Darren.’

‘It’s fate,’ Minerva whispered to him. ‘You know, that you should go first.’

‘Do you think it’s fate that I win too?’

‘Don’t underestimate Leslie. We’ll have to see.’

‘Are you two done whispering conspicuously?’ Mr Van der Brunnen asked in his customary monotonous voice.

‘Yes, sir,’ the canines replied in unison.

‘Good. Leslie, your avatar will be…’ – several die rolls later – ‘Idina the Chimecho. Darren, yours will be…’ – several more – ‘Jackson the Cloyster.’

‘Which tier, sir?’ Leslie asked.

‘Four. No, three. Actually, keep it four. Yes, four. Chimecho’s statistics are sixty-five per cent Health, fifty per cent Attack, seventy per cent Defence, ninety-five per cent Special Attack, eighty per cent Special Defence, and sixty-five per cent speed, with an average of sixty-point-seven per cent.

‘Cloyster’s ideal base statistics are fifty per cent Health, ninety-five per cent Attack, one-hundred-and-eighty per cent Defence, eighty-five per cent Special Attack, forty-five per cent Special Defence, and seventy per cent Speed, with an average of seventy-five per cent. Training and attacks?’

‘Err, I don’t really know what to choose…’ Leslie confessed. ‘Extrasensory, Yawn, Growl, and… meh. It doesn’t matter, since I’ll only use those three. The training is twenty per cent to Defence, and ten to Special Attack.’

Darren considered his situation. ‘Shell Smash, Icicle Spear, Rock Blast, and Ice Shard. Twenty per cent to Health, and ten to Attack.’

‘Very well, you may begin.’

Both opponents hesitated before responding.

‘Idina uses Yawn!’ Leslie called.

‘Jackson uses Shell Smash,’ Darren replied, more composed than his avian friend.

‘Jackson has become drowsy,’ Mr Van der Brunnen declared, ‘much like our resident sleeper. In addition, his Defence and Special Defence have been lowered by one stage, but his Attack, Special Attack, and Speed have been increased by two levels. I hope you are aware of the implications, Darren. Please, continue.’

Darren nodded. He was very much aware of how easily he could lose.

‘Idina uses Extrasensory!’

‘Jackson uses Icicle Spear.’

‘All right, let me see… Cloyster goes first, which means…’ Mr Van der Brunnen closed his eyes and murmured to himself for nearly two minutes before opening them again and rolling his five times. ‘I’m sorry, Darren, but Jackson uses Icicle Spear only twice, thereby doing only sixty-two-point-one per cent damage. He would have needed four to knock Idina out in one shot.

‘Since he will now fall asleep due to Yawn, Idina can fire off another Extrasensory, which will be sufficient to knock him out. Thus, I see no point in continuing the scenario, as there is no chance of Jackson waking up and attacking directly after the turn he fell asleep.’

‘Isn’t there a slim chance that he might?’ Darren asked. He knew what the answer was already, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

‘Sadly, I already calculated the odds and applied them. Jackson will be knocked out. Congratulations, Leslie. You will get to participate in the final scenario.’

‘I told you,’ Darren said, glancing at Minerva. ‘It was a fluke. A stroke of luck.’

‘While I don’t want to diminish Leslie’s victory,’ the Vulpix replied, ‘you could have won him, had you gone with two stronger attacks from the beginning, and not wasted time with Shell Smash. He needs to set up with that for it to be extremely effective. If you rush it, his low Health and Special Attack, coupled with the lowered statistics owing to the status move, will result in him being taken out very quickly.’

‘Huh. I’ll keep that in mind, next time.’

Minerva nodded. ‘I’m glad you’re listening to my advice, for once. To be honest, I was expecting some protest or sarcastic retort.’

Darren rolled his eyes. ‘I can be rational, you know.’