Since the Age of Mists, the Toroi (tor-oy) has been the guide to the future for hundreds of Minarra’s most notable figures, and many thousands more whose names are now forgotten. The Toroi has the power to "predict" the future, to be sure—but only in the hands of those who possess the Gift.
The Toroi is a collection of 54 bronze "tiles", hammered to almost paper thinness and hardened by divine power. While the backs of the tiles are always featureless, the fired, enameled designs on the front bear a curious resemblance to Real World playing cards. The figures of swords, arrows, maces, and whips, numbering 2 to 10 on a tile, form the basis of the Toroi’s four suits.
"Jacks" appear as young noblemen of either dwarven or gnomish blood. "Queens" take the form of lovely elven courtiers, and "kings" are depicted as proud and somber human lords. (In all cases, these figures have the weapon of their respective suit in hand.) "Aces" are shown as glowing magical weapons of great power. The two "jokers" of the Toroi depict a single crystal fang—a reminder (as we shall see) of the deck’s ancient origins, and the acknowledgment that the Future is always uncertain.
As the Astarith tells us, the first Toroi decks were the twisted instruments of Daskaandolon, the Living Chaos. Seeking out the gullible, the Mad One’s servants used their warped imaginations to concoct bogus "fortunes", while the twisted power of the tiles guided their victims to their doom. Enraged by this affront, Chauqin the Seer commanded his worldly agents to seize—by force if necessary—all the decks they could find. Once done, the Lord of Time transformed the decks into genuine tools of divination.
True practitioners of the Toroi are rare. While most are priests of the Lord of Time, Chauquin sometimes blesses the servants of Arzamark, Cydot, Lazev, and the Draconihm with the Gift of interpretation. Those lay practitioners that do exist are figures of legend, almost impossible to find unless they wish to be found. Of all the True Gods, only Chauquin can give mortals mastery over the Toroi.
Genuine practitioners are easy to distinguish from the legion of frauds that frequent carnivals, salons, and the like. The tiles of a true deck will shuffle themselves upon the command of the dealer before beginning the spread. Once the spread is on the table, true dealers never issue their predictions right away—hours and even days of solitary meditation are required to interpret the spread. Lastly, the interpretation is never spoken aloud, but is carefully written upon vellum or the finest parchment.
The language of these documents is hardly straightforward. Most take the form of poetry devoid of rhyme or meter, sprinkled with allegory and steeped in symbolism. They are a narrative nonetheless, with a beginning, middle, and end.
If a dealer is willing to endure the stress, the future may be divined for small groups (of no more than 12 persons) rather than for a single client. Such groups must share a common bond: ties of blood, religious affiliation, military service, or intense personal loyalty will all suffice. Curiously, such readings usually take less time than those for an individual. (Note that some adventuring parties might actually fail this test…)
There are no guarantees with the Toroi. A reading can be readily nullified by the unforeseeable, the random or deliberate actions of others, or even by decisions made by the client. At best, the reading is that of the client’s most likely future, based upon all that has transpired up to the very moment of the draw.
The Spread (or "Deal")
A proper Toroi spread always assumes the pattern below, and are both laid and read in the order indicated:
[1] The Tile of Departure: This tile "sets the stage" for all that is to follow. On occasion, the client can discern some of this tile’s meaning from recent events.
[2] The Tile of Sojourn: This tile alludes to the direction the client should take. This "journey" can be physical, intellectual, spiritual, or any combination of the three.
[3] The Tile of Essence: Often the most cryptic of all the tiles (and the most difficult for the reader to interpret), this tile attempts to answer the question, "What is at the heart of the matter?"
[4] The Tile of Opposition: This tile identifies those forces that shall try to impede the client’s progress. The "opposition" can be other beings, social or political strictures, contrary philosophies, or even the client’s own self-doubt or lack of will.
[5] The Tile of Resistance: Here, the Toroi gives name to the powers that the client might be able to marshal. This tile can identify potential allies, vital information that must be gathered, or the client’s own personal strengths and resources.
[6] The Tile of Tears: This tile hints at the price that might be paid by the client in the course of the trial. The "tears" come in many forms, and need not strike at the client directly—as often as not, the tile refers to the suffering of others.
[7] The Tile of Resolution: Nearly as difficult to interpret as the Tile of Essence, the Tile of Resolution seeks to pin down just when and where the client must come to a crucial (and often irrevocable) decision.
[8] The Tile of Closure: This tile has the maddening habit of revealing several outcomes for the client to ponder. These futures are rarely "all good" or "all bad", but they often remind the client that victory and defeat can be very relative terms.
The Suits
Over the millennia, practitioners of the Toroi have found that the four suits possess oft-repeating themes and concepts. Knowing these patterns can greatly enhance the dealer’s ability to provide a cohesive and thorough reading. The suits have other meanings, to be sure, but those listed below have long since proven their utility.
The suit in brackets are for DM and player reference. DMs are free to add to these lists as they see fit:
| Swords [Hearts]: | good, water, north, tranquillity, integrity, beauty, compassion, virtue, selflessness, courage, healing, warmth, birth |
| Arrows [Clubs]: | chaos, air, east, independence, willfulness, whimsy, apathy, indecision, selfishness, rebellion, lawlessness |
| Maces [Diamonds]: | law, earth, west, solemnity, efficiency, obedience, loyalty, discipline, stubbornness, inflexibility, solidarity |
| Whips [Spades]: | evil, fire, south, cruelty, deceit, criminality, decay, domination, despair, hopelessness, oppression, disease, betrayal, cold, death |
Note that in some readings, the references reflect the absence or flouting of the above characteristics. Dealers refer to this phenomenon as a tile being "inverted" or "opposed".
The "Face Cards"
Like the suits, the twelve "face cards" of the Toroi have a body of time-tested interpretations. These tiles need not represent any specific individual; they can also represent the leadership of an organization or the organization itself. When the tile does represent a "person", it need not be human or demi-human…the being could be a humanoid, monster, undead, or even extra-planar.
Squire or Steward [Jack]: youth, inexperience, innovation, experimentation, fragility, transition, upheaval, the future
Consort [Queen]: femininity, compromise, fertility, introspection, quietude, intuition, gracefulness, charm, the present
Lord [King]: masculinity, authority, tradition, maturity, continuity, solidity, futility, the past
The "Numbered" Tiles
As with Real World playing cards, the tiles bearing the symbols of a suit are called the [Two to Ten] of [Swords/Arrows/Maces/Whips]. The number of icons can reflect actual numbers (either in absolute or relative terms), but doesn’t stop there. Low numbers can represent rarity, shortages, selectivity, poverty, or preciousness. High values, conversely, can refer to abundance, excess, wealth, or the mundane.
"Aces" and "Jokers"
The proper names for the "aces" of the Toroi are The [Sword /Arrow/Mace/Whip] of [Might or Power]. These tiles are often interpreted as a "pure" embodiment of whatever is otherwise represented by the tile. For example, The Whip of Power could refer to anything from an epidemic to the burning of an entire city to a trip to the antarctic ice cap!
The two Fangs are the "jokers" of the Toroi. They are the bane of dealers and clients alike, for whenever they are drawn, the narrative of the reading is splintered from that point forward. In the worst cases, a Fang can render the whole reading virtually useless.
A Sample Spread
Let’s say the DM comes up with a scenario where the PCs both desire and can actually obtain a group reading. The dealer, a wizened priestess of the Seer, carefully places the following spread upon a table of polished oak:
After prayers, meditation, and a fitful night’s sleep, the priestess presents the PCs with a vellum scroll as they sit down for the midday meal. Upon the scroll is written the following:
[1] Sheathe the blade, my friends! Swallow the bilious draught and partake of its sweetness, and thy grace shall open the Petals of the Rose.
The adventure begins with the PCs enduring some provocative or humiliating public scene. If they keep their composure, they will attract the interest of a revered religious figure, whose only passion beside her faith is a magnificent rose garden she has tended all her life.
[2] Follow! Become as one with the mortal tide, as the humble seek their pride and the proud their humility. The visage of the dawn shall be thy beacon, the rapture of the Gods thy mantle. Follow!
After learning of an ancient and mysterious cache of magical weapons from the priestess, the PCs depart for a scarred and oppressed nation to the east, one not at all hospitable to outsiders. But if they take the time to find out, they will learn that once every ten years, this nation’s borders are grudgingly opened to a swarm of religious pilgrims. If the PCs can play the part of faith-driven zealots, they can gain entry with minimal risk.
[3] That is their hope and their doom, to be smothered in a mockery of sleep. In coffins of wyrms lie the Myrmidions, their winding sheets spun from the sinews of the Burrower’s spawn. Rise they shall and serve they shall—yet who shall be their Marshal?
The weapons that the PCs seek are six swords of rare magical power. Each rests in a scabbard of dragon hide, and the blades themselves were forged by the greatest dwarven masters of their age. The "Burrower" is Goldaugh, God of the Earth, father of the dwarven race.
They are also prisons for the souls of six proud warriors, each whom bore some character flaw that kept them from achieving true greatness in life. With each foray into the world of the living, the souls gain in wisdom and nobility, until one last task is all that is needed to gain their freedom. That time has come—if their wielders can show them the way. Thus the interpretation of the sword suit: the struggle towards goodness and virtue.
[4] Beware the Deed Unhallowed! Salvation flows from the soul that stays the hand of folly. Or wilt thou tempt the wrath of the Crystal Throne—or, mayhap, the Foxhunt of the Damned?
When the PCs finally find the swords, they find that retrieving them will be problematic at best: the weapons have been entombed with the dwarven heroes that last wielded them! If the PCs display any scruples before breaking into the crypts, they will merely have every dwarf in the land looking for their heads on a pike. If the PCs decide to smash and grab, however, the unquiet spirits of all the fools who came before them will make the PCs the foxes in the hunt! The "Crystal Throne" is that of the dwarven Thane of Thanes. Note that the interpretation of the mace suit is that of [moral] law "opposed"; that is, the penalty for its transgression.
[5] Nurture the Rose in the soil of honor, and thou shalt have its thorns to speak for thee. Seven blooms in seven beds beneath a sky of stone—these shall grant thee leave to sin without stain.
If the PCs restrain themselves at the tomb, they will find that their priestly benefactor will appear to speak on their behalf. After a lot of bickering and posturing, a deal will eventually be brokered. If the PCs can complete a quest that will prove their mettle to the seven Thanes of the High Council, the dwarven clerics will conduct the rituals to secure the weapons without giving offense to the dead.
[6] Weep for the Fledglings of the Eagle by the Crimson Serpent slain! Coiled about the aerie of wretched green dost the Serpent lie, loathe to spew its venom upon the sick and starving Raptors.
Once the weapons have been recovered, the need for them becomes all too clear. The PCs catch wind of a dying freedom movement over in the next kingdom. The current ruler, a first-rate tyrant, has managed to slay the leader of the resistance and bottle up the remainder in a marsh-ridden forest. Without a massive infusion of hope, this rebellion will soon perish. Note that the weapons' primarily loyalty is to the PCs and not the rebels, though it is far from absolute.
[7] Which be the greater danger…the Serpent or its charméd prey? Thou must know before the Lanterns of Twilight summon the cavalry of foam. Hast thee the valor to join the charge across the azure meadows and dancing forests?
Assuming the PCs and their "gifts" can free the rebels from their trap, the resistance movement will quickly grow. The final assault upon the tyrant's seaside keep will come from the sea, with the rebels astride a herd of hippocampi! But the question remains: will it be worth it to risk rousing the cowed and terrified populace, or will trying (and failing) bring down the rebellion?
[8] What hideous sight shall the leaden dawn reveal? Could it be the Serpent Triumphant, gorged upon a feast of shattered dreams and splintered talons? Or shall the Raptors, drunk with tainted blood, take flight with leathen wings to claim the Serpent’s den as its aerie? Yet the dawn might still preserve its beauty—should the Myrmidions be reborn in the cradle of a noble Lord.
There are three possible outcomes to this tale:
Note that the whip suit casts a long and awful shadow across these futures, leaving little hope aside from the PC's intervention!
The Toroi in the Campaign
The Toroi can be a powerful tool for the DM, but the key to its effectiveness lies in its very rarity. Readings should be restricted to perhaps two or three over the course of the entire campaign, and each PC should have but a single reading on their behalf. To prevent overuse or abuse, it is highly recommended that practitioners be restricted to carefully selected NPCs.
In game terms, the purpose of the delay between the reading and the interpretation is clear: the DM needs some time to decide for himself just what kind of future is "in the tiles". If the DM prefers, the deck can be "rigged" ahead of time, with a polished interpretation already prepared.
Just for fun, DMs might wish to lay out a spread or two on their own time. A good deal could actually suggest a new adventure, or help bring into focus some ideas the DM might already have.
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