Magic by the Milithaum

Magic is a bit of a problem for me.

Not in that I struggle to personally cast spells and work enchantments myself: you misunderstand, I am in fact a very competent wizard. Probably one of the most competent wizards you know. No, magic is a problem for me in that when I sit down to play RPGs, or even just to daydream and plan for RPGs, I don't know where to put magic. I want magic that abides by laws, has its own internal physics. I also want magic that is fantastical, and holds a real sense of wonder.

I think that's what draws me again and again to games and stories that hop between worlds. In my headcanon for any fantasy that covers a multiverse, magic is a refraction of ones' will through the lens that is reality itself- it is the focusing of the otherdimensional potentials that exist all around us, invisibly. Sometimes, I want there to be an implication that other parallel worlds are touched by our actions. Other times I want to be able to hurl fireballs without constant angsting about other worlds.

At the moment, what I want more than anything is a system that supports the stories I've been daydreaming about for over a decade in one form or another. I want a system that lets me and my friends play in the universe I already know better than any campaign setting. I think I found that system in Troika!, and now I'm just tinkering to stretch it around every concept I want it to cuddle.

So magic, now, is something I want to be big and broad and paradoxical. I like the spells in Troika: I like that they drain stamina to cast. Magic should have a cost. But as pointed out on the G+ once, this narrative-honest magic is pretty harsh in combat situations. It has a steep cost and a pretty low chance to do much against, say, the more traditional method of hitting things.

My current tinkering is in the direction of YSMV: your Sphere may vary. The world you're on may have its own way of doing things. In Snowcastles by Duncan McGeary the magicians can only use their magic in service of another. They are given a token payment which they retain while in service, and they give that back later. They can use magic out of service, but its described as being hard to do without a force of will and spending of power. That sounds to me a lot like Troika's stamina-cost is the standard way, but in this world there exists a sort of pact ritual that gives reprieve.

Then there are magic items. I have a system for magic items at the moment in Troika. Each item has a pool of energy, replacement stamina points that the item draws on instead of your own. Each item also has a spell or two that it "knows", that it can cast. Different items will react differently to using up their energy- maybe a scroll crumbles, the ink fades. Maybe the clay rod collapses and dries out. The silver sword of smiting will recharge though, one point of stamina for every hour of meditation.

This system also allows for items that just store stamina. Maybe you have to sacrifice stamina today to fill it up for tomorrow. Maybe you need to feed it the stamina of innocent victims by night!

I don't know, these are just ideas. Let me know what you think!

Lost in a Shop

The Reliquary, Antiques and Rarities

This is a randomly generated dungeon-type shop to explore in Daniel Sell's Troika!, which I heartily recommend to anyone and everyone.

The Reliquary is a sprawling set of rooms in Irifice, hidden behind a relatively tidy shopfront off the marketplace which serves as its entrance. The full shop is vast, with many more floors and rooms than any customer is likely to see.


The owner is one Mister Tasmund, a dirty-looking old man with long and unkempt hair that matches his scraggly beard. Tasmund is a native of the sphere Daldria, and grew up on the bleak and muddy Coasts. Worlds away from there now, people say he's like a tiny piece of that provincial and crude lifestyle brought into the urbane streets of Irifice.


Tasmund is in an ongoing back-and-fro feud with the Irifician Constabulary, who suspect his shop is in breach of the City-Limits Interplanar Expansions Act, a law which forbids the use of extra-spacial spaces and large pocket dimensions within the bounds of Irifice. The truth is, he is very much in breach.



The Reliquary specialises in second hand rarities and lost objects. There is a chance players can find almost anything in the many storerooms and packed-full corridors, both good and bad.

Use the table below to generate the players route through The Reliquary. The place exists across several spheres using extradimensional magic and there may be numerous similar but slightly different rooms, so don't worry about duplicates or maps- just mark down a flowchart style list of where you've been already so that players can retrace their steps if they want to. The Reliquary makes a great place to explore for a specific item need, or to hide from people chasing them in the city outside.

There's a table at the bottom of the page with some plot hooks or missions.

Rooms in The Reliquary 
Roll 1d3 and 2d6 for the room, and 1d3 for the number of doors leading from it. For any dalliances, loud accidents or other mishaps roll the Monster table to see who is nearby.

The Players find...
111. ... a comfortable living room arrangement, safe to rest in.

112. ... a room full of fancy dress clothes.

113. ... a gang of Reliquary Goblins, arguing over a mannequin in a long bare corridor.

114. ... a ghastly looking set of mummies, all stripped of valuables.

115. ... a long chain of narrow passages, with occasional alcoves full of fancy candles.

116. ... a whole hall of damaged furniture.

121. ... a selection of tools, most useless but 1d6 masterwork.

122. ... a low ceiling room of alchemical goods, many filled with a thick brown tar.

123. ... a walk-in wardrobe, bigger on the inside and full of furs. 1 in 6 chance that a fur coat animates and attacks the party. 

124. ... a monstrous collection of coins from the multiverse over, stacked in chests over three small rooms. This room essentially functions as a bureau de change, albeit with ever-terrible exchanhe rates.

125. ... a range of pottery from one specific artist. 1 in 12 chance that his cursed magnum opus, a plate that shows his own death, is in the collection.

126. ... a room full of old mattresses. 1d6 sleeping undead accidentally brought in with them are lurking in the mattresses, ready to tear free and moan at anyone who disturbed their slumber.

131. ... a long, long staircase leading to a dead end. All sorts of poor quality local history books from throughout the multiverse stacked precariously on the stairs.

132. ... a room full of books, with an infestation of 2d6 library wyrms wriggling beneath the oldest, dustiest layer. 

133. ... a rickety-looking wooden with a suspicious lack of clutter. Only one door on the far side of the room exists. Test Luck on any impact or collision or the floor will break through, landing you in any of the 14- rooms.

134. ... a  cramped corridor with windows looking out on an impossible vista.

135. ... rows and rows of bookshelves all containing nonsense notes. 1d6 chance of a spell scroll.

136. ... a long hall of culinary equipment laid out on banquet tables. At least 1d6 dried provisions still edible in the jars.

141. ... a cellar with many old barrels of paints and varnishes. There is a parchment witch perusing one barrel in particular.

142. ... a natural looking cave in which some industrious goblin has piled heaps and heaps of unsellable clothes. There is a flight of stairs leading out.

143. ... a repurposed tomb now full of tat from the tourist markets of many, many cities. 1 in 3 chance a ghost comes to moan at you.

144. ... a cellar full of torture devices. At least one still has a lootable corpse inside.

145. ... a rough-hewn stone room full of dwarven art objects, heaped together in a fashion that exhibits no understanding of their meaning or intent. 1 in 3 chance that one art object is animate and also deadly.

146.  ... a cellar room full of empy treasure chests. 1 in 6 chance that the one a player is checking is a mimic.

151. ... a wooden room of gardening equipment with two arguing Reliquary Goblins, disagreeing about the proper organisation of the shears.

152. ... a rooftop terrace that is definitely not in Irifice, full of dying exotic plants. 1 in 3 chance that one is sentient and asks for help.

153. ... an archive room full of old maps. Test Your Luck or search to find a map of the Reliquary. There can be 2d6 of these in the room, and for each roll d3 and d6- the map gives info of each room with those first two digits. If such a room is wanted, roll d6 to see how many rooms away it is and continue as normal.

154. ... a set of low corridors, crudely closed off with wooden planks and a sign warning that there's a goblin labyrinth incursion here. 2d6 gremlins in evidence, and any loud noises will summon forth 2d6 goblins from the closed off tunnel- and not the mild mannered Reliquary kind.

155. ... a conch shaped room with various battered musical instruments in it. 1 in 6 chance that a bard is in here, lost and afraid and seeking solace in a battered lute.

156. ... a room strongly resembling a toilet but too full of porcelain dolls for it to be truly ascertained. 1 in 6 chance that theres a talking doll in here, a weird construct that parrots phrases back at people.

161. ... a library room full of childrens picture books, which are excellent resources for myths and legends. A successful awareness test will reveal ladders hidden against the walls which provide access to a roof garden and possible exit onto another sphere.

162. ... a room with huge, broken windows which look out onto an unkempt garden.  There are no objects heaped in here, just a sense of dilapidation. Possible exit.

163. ... a tiny annex room of old magazines. 1 in 6 chance on any loud noises that a hatch in the ceiling will open and a bewildered old couple on a fairly backwards sphere are calling the local constabulary.

164. ... a run down old shack full of amulets and charms. The walls can be broken quite easily, and lead out to a strange little black sand beach.

165. ... an attic room full of wedding dresses. There is a hidden trap door leading down through a mansion in the sphere of Neverwood.

166. ... a draughty hallway leading to a heavy door chained and locked with three padlocks. The hallway is made narrow by tens on tens of strange mannequins, 1d6 of which are Figment apparitions from the Silken Realm, dormant only for a lack of psychic energy.

211. ... a vaulted room heaped with clutter, with wooden scaffolds erected to hold a huge taxidermied woodwyrm over the rest of the junk.

212. ... a musty room filled with precarious piles of books. The doorways from it are ornate, cathedral-styled and with gargoyles looking over them.

213. ... a round room full of empty cages, with a hanging chain in the centre holding all the keys.

214. ... a big room, bigger than any room has a right to be. It is lit by glowing panels in the tiled ceiling and is peppered with desks and stationary. Any doors are at the very far end of the room, where there are also a few heaps of garden gnome decorations.

215. ... a low room full of hanging drapes and folded sheets, like a dusty and musty version of a concubine harem.

216. ... a room with too many clocks. 1 in 6 chance that they begin chiming in sequence and attract an encounter.

221. ... a staircase down to a squat little room jam packed with empty bottles.

222. ... a strangely tidy room with a few drawers of fine clothes and a few cases of jewellry. There is an additional hidden door in here which leads to Tasmund's backroom, where a pipe and dirty mug rest stale on a battered table full of maps of the shop's various floors.

223. ... a grand staircase, with various bits of furniture pinned with price tags laid uneasily. Any mishap might cause a devastating furniture-slide.

224. ... a cold stone room full of scrap metal. There's probably a salvageable suit of armour in here for the desperate.

225. ... a room with a red lantern hanging. There are heaps of unfortunately stained sketches and lithographs of naked people in various poses, as well as a shelf full of smutty paperbacks.

226. ... a wine cellar full of antique and nonfunctional pistolets and fusils.

231. ... a narrow set of wooden stairs over a small space full of taxidermied animals. The landing above has an animal-gnawed skeleton laid out on it.

232. ... a cramped room where the Reliquary Goblins repair damaged goods. Currently a dusty purgatory for the piles of torn dresses, cracked bowls and headless dolls that surround the handful of sewing machines and messy piles of tools. Goblins hate repairing things.

233. ... a room full of crates, which when pried open contain empty plasmic cores. 1 in 6 chance of finding a full core in there.

234. ... a room full of boxes and boxes of pressed and preserved leaves. There is a weird smell in the place that will cause audiovisual hallucinations after too long is spent in here.

235. ... a staircase down into a pit or trench that has one or two sets of soiled clothes scattered around. There are stairs up and out to another room.

236. ... a circular room with a domed ceiling covered in grand murals depicting the gods of Irifice seeing off the demons of Before. The room is filled with artworks, mostly cheap replicas and damaged knockoffs.

241. ... a squat room filled with various ceremonial items. Many usable knives, many decent maces. 1 in 6 chance of there being a magic sceptre to find.

242. ... a long hall divided into narrow passages by many bookshelves. Some have tomes filling the shelves, but one or two are stocked with animal skulls.

243. ... a room filled with ornate decorative weapons to be hung on a wall. All -1 to use, but they look pretty.

244. ... a grim little space full of sad looking toys.

245. ... a room whose doors are all locked, except for the one you came in though, which is broken. It looks to have served as Tasmund's office once, and has a shrine to his god Taldun the Ringbear, patron of lost fashions, collections and antiquities.

246. ... a room filled with statuettes and full statues. One has eyes that move, and is clearly a petrified person.

251. ... a room full of benches, so many that they are not comfortable to sit on.

252. ... a room of scientific equipment such as astrological devices and multi-lens lorgnettes. Most are cheap or damaged, but some could be good.

253. ... a room like a boarded up shopfront, packed with old smoking pipes and pocket knives, and jars and jars of stale tea leaves and tobacco. Cabinets have been squeezed into the walkways and overfilled, making it difficult to navigate in a hurry.

254. ... another furniture room, this time with more cots than beds and more prams than chairs.

255. ... a room of wooden carvings from various artists and cultures. Spellcraft checks will show that one is a mutilated dryad, crafted into a most wicked staff for black magics.

256. ... a room full of lamps, lanterns and candles. There are a handful of mirrors against one wall, which anyone acquainted with magic may check to recognise as being an arrangment often used for mirror-travelling between spheres.

261. ... a room with an intermittent drip and serious damp problem. There were once heaps of books but now they are ruined. 1 in 6 chance of an Ooze crawling from beneath a table and attacking the interlopers.

262. ... a corridor only sparsely scattered with cabinets of tat, with one additional door off of it- it is heavily fortified and locked. If it is pried open, it reveals a long chamber of safeboxes, each locked and full of silver pennies and gold pieces. Tasmund has magical alarms in the room- if any gold is taken he will catch up to the players in 2d3 rooms.

263. ... a room full of unfinished things and offcuts of fine wood. Legless chairs, frames for little structures, heaps of parts.

264. ... a hallway with a full wall of shelving on one side, full of tea sets. If something is knocked off there's a 1 in 6 chance it contained an angry wyrd or spirit, trapped by the teapots last owner.

265. ... a small room with a table and chairs. The table is full of fake house plants. There is a 1 in 6 chance that there's a mobile baby treant in among them.

266. ... a room full of inert golems and constructs, now sold for scrap and parts. 1 in 6 chance of one animating again. 1 in 3 chance of that happening when someone uses magic.

311. ... a high ceilinged room full of hymnbooks and religions icons. A successful search check will turn up useful symbols for all but the most shaded and secretive faiths.

312. ... a room full of glass bottles: wine bottles, alchemist's bottles, potion bottles and oil bottles. Bottles of every shape and size, for all your bottle needs. They are stacked rather precariously, on very tall and wobbly shelves.

313. ... a small cluster of what appear to be repurposed jail cells, with bunks and clutter. It may look like a storage space but it's actually where some of the Reliquary Goblins sleep. 1 in 3 chance you disturb one of them.

314. ... a marble-floored room showcasing a collection of rugs.

315. ... an octagonal room that seems to contain the contents of several wizards' towers. Most of the useful stuff has been rooted out but a successful check might turn up something. For anyone really delving into the pile there's a 1 in 6 chance that some magical defence has been left armed.

316. ... a room full of old chinaware from the very collectable Tamsa Forrage studio. Garish and tatty, but shatters wonderfully to deal damage as a +1 thrown dagger.

321. ... a wooden panelled room of hunting memorabilia. There are many, many cloaks and sashes that are in the high fashion of Feeble Ezra's court.

322. ... a tight room with many little desks and drawers. For the most part it is full of artists' assitants' copywork materials, but there is a stash of very fancy papers and inks which give a bonus to attempts to forge with them.

323. ... a room that is tangled with ropes. 1 in 6 chance a Reliquary Goblin is trying to sort them out. There are some really fancy ropes in here- witch-hair ropes, ropes designed to animate with only a whisper of magic... lots of good rope.

324. ... a dead-end room full of full-sized plaster soldiers, taken somehow from the Ghost Empire's inert army. There are many nooks and crannies to hide in, but you have to leave the way you came.

325. ... a room barely bigger than a cupboard with various magical items locked in trapped cases. A small sign on each glass case suggests asking Tasmund for access to look at any item.

326. ... a huge room full of heaps and heaps of clothes. A successful search check would take a long time, but will put together almost any costume, adding a bonus to checks to disguise.

331. ... a vast hall full of furniture and cabinets. There is a desk at one end manned by a Reliquary Goblin. Throughout the hall are dotted all sorts of items- umbrella stands of fancy duelling rapiers, printing trays of magical rings, magical masks from exotic spheres- that lie around next to used sofas and tables. The Reliquary Goblin, if he suspects thievery, will activate several combat-ready fetches and golems to restrain the players.

332. ... a room that has been rendered labyrinthine by stacked rows of crates. If players break open a crate roll again on this table and the contents of the crate are the sort of thing that would be displayed in that room. This is the inbound warehouse, where recent bulk purchases are stored.

333. ... a room full of equipment and decorations related to Golden Barges- thaumaturgical compasses, plasmic cores of ancient models, steering columns wall mounted... everything. Including a very chatty bronze head that is worth an awful lot, and served as the automated crash log for a famous colonist's ship.

334. ... a sweaty-smelling room full of sports equipment and memorabilia.

335. ... a room that once housed tools, but has been slowly overtaken by a recent influx of building supplies. Bricks, wooden floorboards and heaps of roofslate are piled around. Investigation into the back of the room reveals that something has been organising them into warrenlike structures- 3d6 goblins have breached this room from the labyrinth.

336. ... another library, only half stocked but also home to an impressive safebox labelled "contents unknown, enquire for price". If anyone gets it open there is a sentient automaton child inside.

341. ... a dingy little space with a dirty hearth and lots of cast iron tools nearby. The room looks like it was meant to be a showroom for home goods but neglect has left it looking like a transient's hovel.

342. ... a pristine corridor full of interesting little statuettes that serve as pocket gods. Half of them are very cursed, and instead cause the next luck test to be a fail.

343. ... a very well maintained room, long and clean and lined with presentation cases of different old fashions of Irifice. Anyone initiated in the codes of Irifice's priesthood will recognise that this room serves as a shrine of sorts to Taldun, god of collection and relics. Loitering here for too long has Tasmund as a random encounter- he has a 1 in 6 chance of passing through here.

344. ... a room filled with artefacts that are claimed to be related to the old Pale Elf empire. Mostly wooden weapons claiming (falsely) to be as hard as steel.

345. ... a room over two floors, with stairs and a balcony. This is the curiousity room, as Tasmund does not know what the contents are. Naturally this means he wants an outrageous price for them. These items could include modern electronics, artefacts from a very alien culture, or even campaign-specific things the party need to find.

346. ... a long room with glasspanelled doors to safeboxes on either side. The room is stocked with automata of varying sizes and shapes. Simple animate spiders, clockwork birds; there is a whole host of weird constructs in here. 1 in 6 chance that one is a thinking machine.

351. ... a warren of winding corridors connecting tiny little rooms, each stocked with a variety of glassware, ceramics or silverware. There are plenty of nooks and crannies.

352. ... a big, barnlike room arranged with racks of weapons, from daggers and knives right up to enormous seige weapons. It's a bit of a mystery as to how the larger units get in or out.

353. ... a room filled with miscellaneous junk, with a beautiful tree made from silver and crystalware at its heart. It even has false roots spreading down into the flags. The tree is actually living- when cultivated properly it can grow the crystals needed for advanced astrological equipment and so is very expensive. Someone with the proper skill could take a cutting.

354. ... a perfectly cubic room, with baskets and baskets of what is essentially scrap metal heaped about. Most of it consists of machine parts, so scavenging for repair parts has a 1 in 3 chance of success on a proper check.

355. ... a stoop-ceilinged room full of hanging devices. Dream catchers, windchimes and mobiles all make visibilty terrible.

356. ... a squat and chilly room full of various roadsigns and boards, stacked neatly but so tightly it is nigh impossible to peruse them.

361. ... a small domed room stocked up with fireworks and bags of sand.

362. ... a narrow room that resembles the shop front, full of cabinets displaying profession specific items ie medical equipment, jewellry-making tools or alchemy flasks.

363. ... an old wine cellar full of draughtsmens work and architectural drawings of various cities and structures.

364. ... a strange little cave of a room stacked with bags. Backpacks, suitcases, handbags, sacks... all heaped, all empty.

365. ... a grand-looking hall displaying a huge number and range of tapestries and hangings. At least one of them (the most hideously garish) hides a door which leads out into the servants quarters of an abandoned manor house on a smoggy sphere.

366. ... a vault with a barred door, where Tasmund keeps his serious possessions, the things he would never consider selling.

Monsters
Other entities wandering the Reliquary:

11. ... a lone Reliquary Goblin, statted identically to your standard, non shopkeeping goblin except for a bonus to appraisals and bartering from Tasmund's rigorous training.
Mien: 1. Lost something 2. Found something good 3. Smug 4. Upset 5. Combatative 6. Conniving

12. ... a band of Reliquary Goblins, 2d6 of them. All are bickering and squabbling over something incomprehensible.

13. ... a Reliquary Aid, one if Tasmund's trained assistants. Skill 8, Stamina 12, Initiative 2 and Armour 0. They know one random spell.
Mien: 1. Looking for something 2. Feeling harrassed 3. Rushing 4. Irritable 5. Upset 6. Tired

14. ... another human shopper, with poor combat skills but a pistolet to back them up in case of a black friday style showdown. Skill 5 Stamina 8 Initiative 2 and Armour 0.
Mien: 1. Satisfied with their purchase. 2. Bored 3. Lost 4. Riled up 5. Lonely 6. Wants something the party have found.

15. ... a Tower Wizard, looking for some arcane component. As per the Troika core book.

16. ... a band of 2d6 standard goblins, rummaging around the Reliquary after spilling in from their Labyrinth. They could be here accidentally or they might be part of a taskforce trying to liberate the Reliquary Goblins or regain what bits of the Labyrinth Tasmund is using.

21. ... an undead manservant carrying bags and bags of goods for their absent master. Uses the Living Dead stats in the Troika core book.

22. ... 1d3 Irifician Nobles, wandering into the shop to while away an afternoon. They are now lost. Skill 9 Stamina 9 Init 2 and Armour 1; each carries a fancy rapier and pistolet, but is only confident with one of the two weapons.

23. ... a member of the Irifician Constabulary, who entered covertly to investigate the place and is now furious and lost. Skill 8 Stamina 13 Init 3 and Armour 2; he carries a studded club.

24. ... a mimic (reroll if no appropriate hiding place), which will make sounds or similar to attract attention. Skill 9 Stamina 16 Init 3 Armour 1. Always hungry.

25. ... 2d6 gremlins, scuttling from the walls. As found in the Troika core book.

26. ... an entropic imp, a small creature drawn to or spontaneously generated by areas of high magic / chaos. Skill 4 Stamina 4 Initiative 2  and Armour 0, damage as small beast. An entropic imp can sacrifice itself to roll up a random spell. One entropic imp will often mean more- it may sacrifice an initiative die to quiver and summon another of itself, at the cost of a roll on the oops table.

31. ... 2d3 Library Wyrms, small drakes with Skill 4 Stamina 8 Initiative 2 Armour 0, about the size of a ferret and with a bite that can cause an irritating dust-rash that reduces 1 skill point per hour for the afflicted until treated.

32. ... 1d3 Dust Bunnies, large malshaped constructs that hoard detritus. Skill 6 Stamina 16 Initiative 1 Armour 1 and damage as large beast. Dust Bunnies can heal 1d3 stamina by stuffing dirt in their wounds.
Mien: 1. Slothful 2. Disturbed 3. Ill-tempered 4. Mournful 5. Seeking something particular 6. Hungry

33. ... 1d6 Reliquary Goblins and a Reliquary Aid, the Aid looking harrassed as he bosses the goblins around.
Mien: 1. Suspicious of thieves 2. Transporting new stock 3. Rushing 4. All weary 5. Afraid 6. Argumentative

34. ... a broken automaton, Skill 8 Stamina 14 Initiative 1 and Armour 2, damage as moderate beast. The automaton is lost for purpose, wandering aimlessly. He is certainly confused, and his mien dictates what form that may take.
Mien: 1. Violent 2. Subservient 3. Rude 4.
Chaperoning players 5. "Helpful" 6. Incoherent.

35. ... a Reliquary Aid with wizard training- as above but with 3 spells and a bad attitude.
Mien: 1. Suspicious 2. Aggressive 3. Accusatory 4. Busy 5. Mildly irritated 6. Glad of the distraction.
36. ... a dreaded clockwork dragon, a panther-sized metallic monster with damaged ornamental wings and a maliciously-oriented malfunction. Skill 12 Stamina 20 Init 4 Armour 3 and damage as Large Beast.
Mien 1. Malicious 2. "Hungry" 3. Playful in a sadistic way 4. Ennervated 5. Winding down 6. Stalking

41-46. ... nothing happens.

51-53. ... 1d3 Reliquary Goblins

54-56. ... 1d3 Goblins

61-66. ... roll again until you get a result between 11-56. You can hear them entering the room you just came from.

Tasmund himself is Skill 10, Stamina 16, Init 3 and Armour 1- he knows the spells Animate, Sentry, Assume Shape, Find and Jolt. He carries with him a robust-looking cudgel of black-oak. 

Plot Hooks

1. You are entering to get Tasmund's appraisal of a rare magical item. On each random enounter roll, if you encounter Reliquary goblins or a Reliquary aid roll a d6. On a 6 for goblins or a 5 or 6 for aids, the encountered can direct you to Tasmund. Roll 2d6 to see how many rooms away his offices are.
2. You have been offered a substantial amount to find Tasmund's secret room of unsaleable items and steal a rare magical sword from it. His safe is in room 366 though they will have to bribe or otherwise coerce the directions from a Reliquary goblin or aid as above.
3. An Irifician Constable has gone missing in the shop after going in vigilante style, and his wife has offered a substantial sum for his return. On each room roll a d6- an even number indicates that some physical clue or clue with the creatures encountered exists.
4. You've been invited by a reliquary aid to help the shop catch a clockwork dragon on the loose that keeps mauling customers. The random encounter table is adjusted so that results 51-66 involve the clockwork dragon. The party's reward is any one item from the shop each.
5. You have insider information that one of the items in Tasmund's curiosity room (345) is worth a lot. If they can find it and get out they could get very rich. Again, finding the room will involve much cajoling for directions.
6. You've been chased in, either by the law or unsavoury elements. Lose them, trick them- get back out. Rooms 161 to 166 are all rooms with exits to other spheres.

Three new tables, or "Oh shit, I didn't plan for this"

I read too much of Daniel Sell's Blog on the buses, and then write down too many ideas for Troika! games I want to run. Organising players can be like herding cats.
While I wonder where my next fix of weird fantasy tabletop mania will come from, here are three silly tables for strange happenings.
If there are things on here that seem unexplained, that is usually by intention- Troika! is a game of weird things. Most of the names of places or people or things I'm dropping into lists are places or people or things that I want to play with or develop later. These things are, naturally, best saved as entries on a random table. Logic.

Agents of Balance you must deal with...

11. The Holy Hermaphrodite, ready to birth the components of a next world.
12. A knight with a twin bladed sword and no horse.
13. A two headed dragon, cursed with ever-tearing indecision.
14. An immortal wanderer, watching the world decay around her.
15. One of Bast's wise cats, who walk between worlds on unknowable whims.
16. A priest undergoing a terrible crisis of faith.
21. A weary Moonwarden, who believes himself corrupted.
22. A failed messiah, left mourning his people.
23. A professional Broker Envoy, in well over their head.
24. An intelligent golem, made from the Origin Clay itself.
25. Representatives of Law and Chaos, bound together as one (roll next table)
26. The captain of a ghost ship which sails the waves between worlds.
31. A powerful sorceror, plagued by a lack of confidence and believing himself a charlatan.
32. The preserved head of an ancient prophet.
33. The patriarch and matriach of the local pantheon of gods.
34. The Prince from a story you read as a child.
35. An angel, midway through the dlow process of Falling.
36. An enlightened holy man, travelling the world to spread his Word.

Representatives of Law and Chaos who are summoned to debate...

11. Punch and Judy.
12. A jester and an austere judge- the judge talks nonsense and the jester is measured and wise.
13. A white dwarf and sprawling nebula, both pulsing in binary.
14. An aged tree and a lit lamp. Both are silent and incommunicable.
15. A nun and a prostitute.
16. A burning bush and the sprouting flame, both only communicating in memories and physical sensations transmitted psychically.
21. A wise lammasu and cruel chimera.
22. An inhalation and exhalation, each experienced as a stretched out moment of revelations
23. Two wyrms, red and white and fighting one another.
24. Two knights, identical but furious at any suggestion of that.
25. A figure of molten metal and another of crystalline glass.
26. Two madmen- one expressionless and muttering monotone binary. One babbling glossolalia animatedly.
31. A box and its contents. The box is carved with questions, the contents broadly represent answers.
32. Sleep and the dreams inside it.
33. The wild night and your warm home.
34. The summer day and your cold, hard grave.
35. A coiled serpent and authorative, disembodied voice.
36. A black haired woman and gold-skinned man.

Envoys that might be sent to fetch your aid...

11. A squire, harrassed and flustered and very afraid.
12. A trained raven, sassy and barely comprehensible.
13. A very smart monkey, relative to other monkeys.
14. A wise dog, who can only whine imploringly and look where they want you to go.
15. A spirit of air and fire, enslaved by a wizard many years prior.
16. A wicked imp in an enchanted collar.
21. A small cat who is more than he seems.
22. An animated man made from twigs, barely still held together when he reaches you.
23. A wire fetch, sturdy but not able to communicate accurately.
24. An object nearby which spontaneously animates into sentiency.
25. A tattered corpse, unusually spry and talkative.
26. A skeleton that has been travelling to you long enough for the flesh to fall from his bones.
31. A mysterious knight, all clad in jet and gold.
32. A hungry child, promised food if she delivers the message to you.
33. The ghost of an orphan, afraid of the living.
34. A beautiful courtesan, sent under duress.
35. A dryad, sickening to be so far from her tree.
36. A gold shower. Dramatic, but a terrible communicator.

The Salt-demons of the Yammerstills

"Ol' fort Yama? Somewhere under yer feet, I dareseh. It's a tragic tale, crumbled under a giant's club. Yama himself'd offended the giant's wife, see?"

"Yama's Keep? Oh, long time gone. Stolen brick by brick, taken by merfolk. I mean it! They crawled out of the sea, and their briny footprints made all the bogs here now."

"No, no- the knights descended into anarchy. Fort Yama was too small for all the mouths to feed. They probably stole everything worth a damn and left the stones to fall into the swamps."

"You want to go where? Oh, you won't find that easy. Go to the salt caves, have a look down there. Billson from the inn does a fine tour of the salt caves."

Fort Yama fell hundreds of years ago, sinking into the marshy ground of what is now the Yammerstills, on the sphere of Daldria. The knights there were champions of civilisation, bringing order to a whole barbaric continent and helping found many of the towns still standing today. There are many legends about its fall- many stories, and many untruths. The popular one this year is that old Yama himself went mad, and gifted the fort to a foreign princess who had it towed away. Last year they said a dragon ate all the knights and shit out the hills that must now cover the old fort. The opinion over in nearby Ristallin is that the fort was never in the Yammerstills, that the grand arches and towers of their own fair town proves it was once known as Fort Yama.

The truth is not something the marsh-farmers of the Yammerstills could wrap their boggy heads around. Old Yama, founder of the order, discovered the truth that his sphere was one of many- a wiseman with a crooked staff showed him the great sky, swirling with worlds and weirdnesses. Yama had brought order to his world- now it was these others he must reach. He had his court magician working day and night to open a breach to such a world, and kept his knights in close reach so that they may rally and march into the unknown at a moments notice.

Things went wrong. Perhaps the magician didn't perform the spell properly. Perhaps the gateway he opened led to a sphere already fully descended into chaos. Perhaps some malign entity influenced happenings. Reality in the fort began to erode, with space itself loosening like molten wax from the aether. The knights battled strange alien creatures and vivid hallucinations as the fort's foundations crumbled as though a millenia had slipped by. The court magician knew little of the forces of chaos, but what he knew was enough for him to realise what this foothold might mean for the rest of the sphere. He advised Yama; Yama gave the order.

The spell he cast cost him his life. It covered everything in the fort in sea salt, briefly purifying the water in the bay nearby. The salt grounded the interdimensional energies so that Yama, choking on the salt as he did, had chance to close the portal. The fort sank into the swampy marshland.

Today, the Yammerstills are a poor trader's outpost, built on the hillsides in the bay. They are a simple people, providing necessities for sailors heading north and farming their sweet marsh-potatoes, for the most part unaware of the salt-crystal caverns underfoot. Until recently...

Strange white figures have risen from the hills. Perhaps roused by the outbreak of another interplanar working of magic, the old magical servitors of Fort Yama were warped by the portal, and fused with the salt by its closing. They toil away in the corridors and halls below, ordering the items left in the fort in order of their magical "radiation", continually cleaning the strange halls. These Salt-Demons, as the locals are calling them, can dessicate a man with their sharp embrace. They can lift huge weights with no sign of fatigue. And they are coming to quietly dry out and organise anything that smells of another sphere...

Marrandale Birthdays

It's been a long walk over the dry and chalky plains of Marran, but just as the turf starts to soften a touch underfoot you see it ahead- Marrandale, with its quaint thatched rooves and picturesque poofs of smoke curling from the chimneys. Looking forward to a night spent anywhere but on ground as hard as stone you press on.
As you reach the town gate, however, you see trouble. A small boy of no more than five, armed with a flint knife and facing down three great dogs that snarl and slobber. You draw your sword and race to intervene before the babe is shredded by the great beasts, only to feel a sharp sting on your forehead as you get near.
"Piss off!"
The cry comes from a set of men and women in the traditional and puritanical dress of the Marran plain settlements, who you now spy crouched behind a bush by the walls.
"What the damned devils are you doing watching this happen?" You cry to the villagers who just cast a stone at you.
"It"s the boy's bloody birthday!"

Long ago, Marrandale was dreadfully poor. The dry plains had spread over farmland, causing a long and hard famine to settle over the land. The coyote from the hills hassled their flocks, and any travellers in small number. It was a hard place, as hard as the ground outside. It did not reward sentiment.
Elsewhere in the world, elsewhere in thr multiverse, birthdays developed as a celebration. "Congratulations!", as though a reward for surviving another year. But in Marrandale where the children were too many and the food too few, they became a trial.
What began as an act of desperation became a proud and noble tradition, weeding out the weak and unlucky. Even to this day Marrandale residents of all ages arm themselves and hole up on their birthday, ready for all manner of challenges both physical and abstract- ready to prove they are worth feeding for another year.

Improper Prophecies

Mud squelches underfoot, the audible unease of the swamp itself at the direction you have chosen to take. The low, dripping passageway is coming to an end and the wan light of the pale sun is visible. As you step out, parting the sickly-looking hanging plants over the exit, your foot sinks inches into another puddle- but before you can struggle to suck it back out you freeze, eyes locked on the warped mockery of a bird's shape ahead of you…

There are ways, of course, to sample one’s future safely- mediums, seers, psychics and all manner of other arcane matters market themselves just so. Many of these art forms may be choked near to death by the many inaccuracies and charlatans within them, but still one may be given a relative notion of what the future holds at a reasonably small risk to oneself. But for a truly, startlingly accurate glimpse into the future? Why, one must invariably work for such an insight, and pay quite the cost…

The silks and hangings around you seem to swirl; the thick incense-smoke is beginning to choke you. You focus blearily on the squat figure before you, whose toad-like complexion seems to grow greener every minute… the room is spinning, though you can hardly tell… and in that strange whirl of invisible motion you see it like a pinprick that fills your horizon. You struggle to focus on it for a moment, until suddenly you are in it, and you see…

There are the prophets, the real prophets, whose gifts are almost always really curses. There are the interstices between temporal frequencies, those freak occurrences that split the unwary mind in twain but provide insight to those prepared to stare them down. There are the patterns and forms that ripple back through time from future happenings all the time, that with long and maddening research one may grasp the true import of. And there is the counsel of alien beings whose concepts of existence does not include such strange distinctions as ‘now’ and ‘then’, whose weird worldview threatens to unseat one’s very Self from the throne of free agency.

Finally it is in your grasp, and you grip it, shake it and stare at it. The smoke that moves listlessly beneath the glassy surface seems almost to stir- but no forms yet take shape. You curse and swear, and shake the thing again. This time there is no mistaking it- the figure of a man appears in the smoke within. Success! You peer a little closer into the object, finding yourself drawn closer and closer until the smoke-shapes are as reality, and you are but a wisp of yourself…

To toy with causality is no small thing, and the many checks and balances of the multiverse can tend to snap rather brutally back into place when dragged out of kilter. Still though- perhaps this is your last recourse. Perhaps you simply must know what is in store for you. Perhaps the fate of existence itself depends on your preparedness. Or perhaps you really just can’t wait so long.

2d6	For the Truest Prophecies you must seek out…
11	The dread Herrongeist, a six-legged monster of a bird who dwells in the darkest swamp with one foot in the present and another in the future. The only thing the Herrongeist enjoys more than providing prophecy is the taste of fresh eyes from an intelligent skull. Approach with caution.
12	Sweet old Mother Marrana, who is cursed by apparitions of the future dead who beg their fates be averted.
13	The great Library of Geft, in which all the histories of all men may eventually be found written. To find one set of records may take a lifetime’s searching.
14	The Blacksphere, an orb of captured nebula-gas. The malign intelligence within will answer any question with a smoke-vision, but attempts to trap the asker’s mind inside…
15	The Chimera-on-the-Fence, a composite creature of split loyalties to Law and Chaos. Her maelstrom of a mind sees all things at once, a madness with occasional spurts of prescient lucidity.
16	Lady Geraldina of House Matherrin, the young would-be-heiress whose various social slipups have forced her parents to exile her to the attic, where she has grown terribly bored and fond of embroidering her relatives death-scenes as morbid tapestries.
21	The forest-dwelling Skank of the Greater Ridge, a madman and prophet who blurts facts only true in parallel worlds. Prophecy is a process of deduction with the Skank.
22	The mummified head of Simon the Wretch, an immortal who was captured by a cruel sheikh and tortured for years. His mind went so far in fleeing the horrors of the present that it reached the future, where it now dispassionately relays information back to the present.
23	The Sinking Window, a glass pane in the tallest room of a long dead sorcerer’s tower which can be focussed like a lens through history.
24	The Black Deck, a set of common looking oracle cards with a history of accuracy. They were last seen heading to an inquisitor’s hearth, though rumour has it they didn’t make it to the flames.
25	Mistress Lucille, a patient and saintly woman whose dedication and focus one day paid off. She requires absolute concentration and a good deal of time to make a true prophecy, and has been known to fudge details if she gets bored.
26	The Madwoman of Marrendale, who reads the future in the webs and legs of her pet spiders.
31	The Guild of Weavers, where all who spin the yarn of fate meet. The Guild can be petitioned for a sneak peek at the future, but the paperwork they require is mountainous.
32	Funnyman Dannel Casserin, a bard-comedian from the courts whose jokes are noted for their increasingly portentous nature. Anything he says that gets a laugh will very quickly come to pass.
33	Templeton-Jones Eleven, a living fragment of the Cosmic Engine of Daldria. T-J11 doesn’t properly prophesise, but rather generates probability. He’s very good at it, too, but intensely melancholic down to being the last part of a machine that could have answered The Question.
34	Armoria, a warrior-princess of the Icy Wastes whose people would revolt if they knew she whispered with the Fractal Angels in her sleep. The Angels’ knowledge has saved them many times from war and famine, but their full motivation is not yet known.
35	Old Ned, a horse who can communicate with hoof-clops and is owned by a farmer who still hasn’t noticed the desperate chained intellect in those deep, mysterious horsy eyes.
36	The Tappletura-Bush, a plant whose powerful hallucinogenic berries grant brief omniscience for 1d3 hours. Focusing too long on any one thing has the risk of teleporting you into the scene.
41	Trickmaw, a grey parrot with an excellent memory. Used to be owned by a powerful psychic who talked to herself incessantly.
42	The Fractal Angels, weird creatures who can only be contained in our reality for moments at a time. Communication must be made in such a way as to be comprehensible to a being from the 6th or 7th dimension, but if you can manage it they will tell you anything. Talking to them has been known to drive people insane.
43	The Fissure under the Sun, a great crack beneath an old temple. The fumes from the ground are said to allow one to remember in both directions for 1d6 hours. It can be very unsettling, and makes normal conversation difficult for the duration.
44	Samaul the Weary, a man so old he has seen this universe end once already and lived through most of this second iteration again. He claims it usually diverges at some point, but until then his memories of how it played out the first time are pretty accurate. Does tend to exaggerate.
45	Cristan Crossing, a remote crossroads where travellers meet their future selves of misty nights.
46	Ash the Dawdler, notorious opium-fiend of the shanty town. He isn’t credited as genuine by many who know him, but there are many regulars in the taverns and alleys who’ve been left pale and shaken by his words.
51	Ewwyrd the Distraction, a minor god from a distant sphere. He will happily jaunt backwards and forwards through time- but only to gleefully deliver bad news.
52	A Manual of Motions, a tome by the late and lunatic astrologer Stefen Dower. The Manual has instructions for scrying with total accuracy using the motions of the moon and stars. Only one copy remains, locked securely in the Church of Our Lady in the Moon.
53	Dalia Moongazer, a dreamy young girl who can see the future in the moon’s reflection on water. She will be really, really upset if asked to look at anything violent, sexual, or otherwise inappropriate.
54	Frank Downing, a charlatan who makes only makes one true prediction every year.
55	Ser Michael Morestone, senior lecturer in the Tower Libray. Morestone’s life’s work is a mathematical formula which can answer any question. He’s currently depressed and despondent because he used it to discover he’ll never make tenure.
56	The Eyes of Gammorh, perfect marble spheres which must be planted in one’s eyesockets. Once used to stare unflinchingly into the future they blink and are gone.
61	Urbania’s Compass, which points in the direction one must travel in. While following the compass through a crowded place the fragments of conversation overheard will constitute an unexpectedly straightforward prophecy. Overuse will invoke the displeasure of the patron goddess of metropolises.
62	The Blind Tutor, who cannot see anything in the past, present or future, but can talk someone through the process of seeing it themselves- it will take 1d3 weeks to attempt a prophecy.
63	The Witching Pool of Warrenwren, a muddy puddle in the centre of an abandoned but strangely preserved village. When stirred clockwise its reflection shows the future, and counter-clockwise will reveal the past. If the surface is disturbed too much, of course, the bloated corpses at its bottom will animate and seek to add you to their number…
64	The Ravensingers of Weald, a coven of witches whose most powerful magic is an ongoing song that a listener can get lost in, experiencing visions of the future as part of the ebb and flow of the music. At any given time three Ravensingers must be singing their song, and the coven takes this duty in shifts. Should the song end their very direst prediction will come to pass...
65	Farly the Tumultuous, who stared into the unformed Chaos beneath the world and saw in it the shape of all things to come. That image is burned in his brain, impossibly and irreversibly, and Farly may be compelled to draw a portion of it as a crude prophecy.
66	The Heavens, a set of grand halls where the record keepers of Law abide. By finding their personal record-keeper and their extra-temporal records, one may glimpse their actions and experiences still to come.

Prophecies in-game

It isn't easy giving a glimpse of the future in an RPG. In works of fiction and the preconceived structure of a computer game flashes forward are much easier to manage- prophecies in a collaborative story are naturally harder to pull off. I like playable prophecies- scenes that are set ahead of your current narrative position, but that the players can get involved with and have some agency in. They are, admittedly, a total pain to plan and pull off. Your player might know she attacks with her silvered +1 longsword in three months time, only to have the longsword stolen in the next session. Causality is a cruel mistress like that.
You can get around it by having all components featured in the prophecy as prerequisites for it to come to pass, or by only showing things in the prophecy that players will not be involved in. Show them the king being crowned- hell, show them their characters arriving in a new place- but don't show them anything specific that their double-dratted and thrice-damned free will might mess around with.
Prophecies are great until they're 100% railroad.