Session 16: Mascot Stacking

Standing at just under five feet tall, Professor Ironquill cut an unassuming figure beneath the vaulted arches of Lorablue College’s grand hallway. Yet despite his modest stature, the professor carried himself with surprising authority, leaning over a scuffed walnut desk crowded by scrolls, quills, and half-filled inkwells. A hush settled over the group as he sifted through the cryptic notes they’d brought—jagged lines of arcane shorthand scrawled in a dialect few could translate.

“This appears to be an unfinished incantation,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “A wizard’s shorthand, likely. Each word might look like nonsense, but in the heat of spellcraft, intent overrides literal meaning.” He paused to tap a finger against a symbol that resembled crooked antennae. “See here—whoever’s written this is experimenting with animating magic. Potentially something designed to enliven ordinary beasts…perhaps violently.”

A hush fell. The parchment in his hands represented more than just academic curiosity; it was a grim puzzle piece tied to the recent surge of strange occurrences around Strixhaven. Mutated creatures, unexpected aggression in local wildlife—each new development pointed back to a shadowy figure testing half-finished spells in secret.

One of the group ventured to ask whether the parchment might belong to some ancient wizard or someone dabbling in forbidden research. Ironquill only shrugged, quill pen perched behind one ear: “Powerful mages can appear from nowhere and vanish the same way. But from what you’ve described, I suspect someone’s perfecting a new trick, very recently.” He cast them a grave look. “Your next best clue lies in the meaning behind these incomplete words. If the incantation truly causes creatures to stir into unnatural life, that spells trouble for us all.”

They spoke briefly of bomb-like substances found in the swamp—a bizarre black sludge that might be key to delivering this twisted spell. The professor grimaced at that. “It’s all speculation,” he concluded quietly. “Still, if you discover more signs of this meddling, bring them to me. Or, if you suspect foul wizardry in the university’s past, consult the historian, Professor Thaddeus Luminary. But be on your guard.”

The group departed Ironquill’s office with minds abuzz. Though they felt marginally closer to unraveling the tangled curse creeping across Strixhaven, the professor’s theories left them uneasy. Stepping out into the courtyard, they exchanged wary glances, the winter sun washing pale light on ancient mosaic tiles. Each wondered privately if some brilliant but twisted mind was still out there, refining a spell that might shake the campus to its foundations.

Their brooding ended abruptly when, rounding a corner, they heard laughter and raucous cheers. Following the echo of exhilarated voices, they arrived at the Rose Stage, where dozens of onlookers stood in a loose circle. The scene was half carnival, half chaos: small, cat-sized mascots, known on campus as “pests,” scurried and jostled around the raised dais, lured by sticky handfuls of sweet bait.

A makeshift competition had broken out—students stacking these squealing, bug-eyed creatures atop one another to see who could build the tallest living tower. The group paused at the edge of the stage, enthralled by the ridiculous spectacle. For one fragile instant, the tension they carried from the professor’s dire words was broken by the sheer absurdity of the event.

Although their minds still lingered on that incomplete spell, the promise of friendly rivalry proved irresistible. They were soon juggling frantic pests, coaxing them with drizzles of sweet concoction, and using clever illusions to keep their growing critter-pile from collapsing into a frenzy of claws and limbs. Two tower-building duos toiled around them, faces streaked with honey, breath puffing in the chilled air from frenzied laughter and frantic shouting. Every time a single pest shifted, entire stacks threatened to tip over in a scuttling avalanche.

Yet despite the chaos, the group’s combination of cunning magic, careful hands, and quick reflexes yielded an impressive formation. Their tower grew taller than any rival’s—a jittering column of scaly bodies, pinned by the promise of more delicious bait. Onlookers cheered and teased them for their outlandish resourcefulness, joking that it was a wonder no one had tried such feats before.

The cheering abruptly died. Suddenly, their triumph turned cold. From the center of the stacked creatures came a spine-tingling sound—a low, rumbling groan that felt terribly wrong. The pests’ bodies quivered and seemed to bleed into one another, limbs fusing in a grotesque contortion. Three heads sprouted, twisting outward with unnatural motion.

Students shrank back, stunned. Whatever harmless competition they had been enjoying only moments before was instantly forgotten. Their newly formed champion, now transformed into a nightmarish fusion of writhing scales and snapping jaws, stumbled forward with unnatural size and hissed at the shrinking circle of onlookers.

Something sickly and dark pulsed through the creature’s veins, reminiscent of the arcane meddling they had been investigating all along. They exchanged quick, alarmed looks; Ironquill’s solemn words returned to mind with sudden clarity. This was more than a friendly fiasco. This freakish transformation reeked of the same twisted magic etched on the parchment.

In the hush that followed, every person on the Rose Stage seemed to hold their breath. The monstrous amalgam snarled, claws scraping across the wooden floor. As students shuffled away in alarm, the group swallowed back rising panic. Their victory overshadowed by an unknown threat, they prepared themselves for another confrontation with this corrupt magic—one whose real menace was only now revealing itself.

Below the hush of the campus sky, where the wind carried rumors of sinister illusions and spells still incomplete, they took a step forward. If the creature was any indication, the relentless puzzle they had encountered in that swamp was no mere academic curiosity. Dark incantations had found their way into Strixhaven’s very heart, and it was now up to them to discover who—or what—lurked behind this surge of malevolent power.