1. New Student Orientation

"I've done it!" Marlena opens up a hatch on the top of the hand cannon and slots a small, round chunk of obsidian into it. As the cannon accepts the obsidian, the runes along the barrel gradually light up with an eerie dark purple, almost black, glow. She quickly rises to her feet and takes aim, trying to draw a bead on the mimic.

Steady... Steady... Now.

She pulls the trigger. A blindingly quick bolt of decaying magic blasts from the hand cannon.

Kiraen is in very close combat with the thing so she slices at another leg

Kiraen gritted her teeth as the mimic's jagged teeth clamped down on her shoulder. Pain flared through her, but she refused to let it slow her down. With a sharp breath, she twisted her wrist and slashed at another of its legs, aiming to cripple the thing and force it to release her.

But the mimic moved in ways no proper chair should. Its wooden limbs scuttled unnaturally, bending at sharp, unnatural angles. Kiraen’s blade cut through nothing but empty air. Off-balance from the failed strike and the weight of the mimic still latched onto her, she stumbled, her boots skidding against the floor as she fought to keep her footing.Marlena snapped the hatch shut on her hastily assembled hand cannon, the eerie black glow of its runes intensifying as it charged. She barely had time to aim—Kiraen was in too close, but the mimic was wide open.

Steady... Steady...

She pulled the trigger.

A bolt of raw decaying magic howled from the barrel, searing through the air. It struck the mimic’s warped wooden body dead center, burning into its structure. The creature let out an ear-piercing, unnatural shriek as the corrupting energy ripped through it.

The force of the impact sent the mimic skidding backward while cracks splintered across the force field protecting it and then ... Snap! The shimmering energy surrounding it was gone.

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Complications and injuries
Chair mimic: Severed leg (Major injury, D8), Burned (Minor Injury)
Nervous gnome: None
Room: Slippery floors (D6)
Kiraen: Bitten (Minor Injury), Unbalanced (D4, temporary, roll only once)

Assets and bonuses
Chair mimic: Force field (D6) None
Nervous gnome: Mirror images (D6)
Greta: Enhanced strength (D8)

Zix decides to not spread out the effort as much this time, and try again. Everyone except the gnome seems to be doing fine without further advice.

No, trying again is not an option with the gnome already on the ground.

And so Zix would try to manoeuvre through the room, avoid bumping into anyone or anything, and help the gnome get up and retreat.

Dorian tries illusion magic this time, setting the battlechair up against a great cat with huge, upholstery shredding claws that need oh so much sharpening.

Kiraen stabs again, but then retreats from the creature. She is not happy with the bite that she got

Dorian took a step back, adjusting his cuffs as if preparing for some grand performance. He swept a hand through the air, murmuring the arcane syllables of his spell. Shadows coiled at his fingertips before unraveling into the shape of a massive feline—a sleek, predatory beast with fur like shifting velvet and wickedly sharp claws that glinted in the library’s dim light. It stretched luxuriously, its tail flicking, its golden eyes locked onto the mimic with the kind of patient hunger only cats possessed.

The mimic looked at it and did not, in fact, react with terror.

It did not recoil.

It did not freeze in place.

It did not even hesitate.

Instead, it lunged—straight at the illusory cat—before promptly slamming right through it like a particularly aggressive ottoman.

Dorian’s confident smirk faltered. The illusion flickered and the cat, which had been poised to pounce, suddenly distorted, its elegant form warping like an ink stain soaked in water. Its once-imposing claws wavered, turning into oddly shaped blobs, and its golden eyes went comically cross-eyed before the entire illusion imploded into a mess of swirling, nonsensical colors.For a moment, the battle seemed to pause. Even the mimic hesitated—not because of fear, but because whatever Dorian had just conjured looked so absurd that even the chaotic monstrosity seemed confused.

A long, awkward beat passed.

"You and I have very different definitions of fun, dwarf." Marlena's heart is beating like a rabbit's. That whole ordeal was a lot to take in, but despite that, she felt proud. Her prototype ice grenade had at least functioned, even if her throw was off, and she'd built a hand cannon on the fly. She looked down at the gun in her hands. Dark purple vapors still drifted from the end of the now misshapen barrel. It surely needs more work, but for now, she's just happy it helped bring the mimic down.

She heads closer to Greta and Kiraen, weapon gripped tightly in case the mimic's just playing dead. However, she realizes it's definitely gone, so she relaxes her grip. Her eyes are drawn to Kiraen's injured shoulder. "That looks awful. Do you want me to patch you up? Find you a healer?" She offers quickly.

Is anyone else hurt? Kiraen climbs into a chair, an ordinary wooden chair and assesses her own injuries.
This was not fun, but I'll manage.
The shoulder needs some attention, yes, see what you can do Marlena. But first: Could you get me some of that ice from the floor? She points at a block of ice from a water pitcher that was shattered in the frost explosion. With some discomfort, she raises the knee on another chair and uses the ice to handle the swelling.

"Everyone's fine, thankfully. Strange how a mimic popped up out of nowhere. I suspect foul play."

She fetches the ice for Kiraen, then starts to dress the bite wounds with emergency supplies from her satchel. As she works, she calls over to Zix. "Zix? How's the gnome?"

Zix looks around just in case, and then turns and silently points towards the exit the gnome ran to, and finally turns again to face Marlena.

Dorian cringes at the lack of his magical ability. At least Greta seemed to benefit from it, but it was his strongest talent, apparently. "That cat was beautiful, for a moment." His cheeks burn red with embarrassment, but he follows the pointing finger of Zix with his eyes.

"A hearty battle, my friends, well done. I wager it was a test by some mishief-making, um, upholsterer."

Only now did Zix realise that both of them made fools of themselves a bit. And yet both did make themselves useful. Zix turned to the companion.

"Oh. Dorian. Yeah, sure was. Also, thanks for replacing my enchantment with yours when mine faltered. I . . . I think I may have overextended myself when I saw that the initial chaos didn't subside and decided to do something about it. Thankfully seconds later everyone managed to do the right thing anyway. It was unwise of me to step into the spotlight at a moment like that."

Dorian looks at the others appraisingly. "I'm sure I have no shortage of enemies if this was a targeted attack. Although, it did not seem to be interested in me at all."

He thinks of his nemeses who employed the dark arts in his presence, but this doesn't seem their style.