The Hollow Table: A Quiet Place for Unrepeatable Things
"It is not a window. It is not a list. The Table makes the thing — and then dares you to touch it."
— Archivist Renwell
I’ve laid hands on swords that whisper, fungi that sing, and once, a goat that remembered my birthday. But nothing has unnerved me like the Hollow Table.
It doesn’t glow. It doesn’t speak. It simply is. A wide disc of boneglass and moss-bound metal, embedded in the stone floor of a crypt deep beneath the Lamentwood basin. Some come seeking power. Some stumble in by accident. And every few years, someone walks away with an object they never asked for—but somehow already needed.
Not always useful. Rarely harmful. Always peculiar.
What Is the Hollow Table?
The Table is a stationary summoning altar, silent and perfectly still. It doesn’t respond to prayer or ritual the same way twice. When it chooses to work, it creates a single Mundane Oddity—a subtle magical object bound to the summoner for the rest of their life. The item is never catalogued. It cannot be summoned again.
They do not return.
They do not fade.
They do not make sense.
And they are never quite where you left them.
How Do You Make It Work?
Methods vary. Here are a few that have reportedly worked:
- The Regret Offering: Something sentimental, broken, or once sacred.
- The Triad of Gesture: A gift, a truth, and a silence.
- The Dream Method: Sleep near it. Let it decide.
- The Honest Mistake: Sit on it by accident. Works more often than you'd think.
There is no confirmed rule. The Table appears to respond best to those who are unraveling slightly—the curious, the grieving, the mildly embarrassed.
The only known cost? Whatever it gives becomes yours... permanently.
What Kind of Objects?
Each is:
- Single-use (once per person, not per campaign)
- Permanent (remains with the summoner forever in some form)
- Unique (no duplicates)
- Quietly magical (often odd, sometimes moving, rarely dangerous)
Only one object in history has reportedly caused harm—a velvet pouch that screamed for hours when opened. The man who summoned it aged four decades overnight and crumbled by morning. Most avoid shouting in the chamber now.
Who Guards the Table?
A passive cult known as the Cradle-Kin lives near the Table. They are quiet, strange, and vaguely kind. Visitors are not forbidden, but tea is always offered. It is never the same twice. Refusal is not dangerous—just... disappointing to them.
No one knows what the Cradle-Kin believe. But they seem to think the Table is dreaming, and we are part of its sleep.
Rumors and Hooks
- A child was born with part of a summoned object inside their chest. It pulses when they lie.
- The Table has a twin—inverted, cracked, and forgotten beneath a swamp monastery.
- One item (a teacup) is said to have shown up in multiple hands. But everyone insists it was theirs first.
- The Cradle-Kin are carving a second table. They will not say why.
Try It Yourself
Do not speak. Do not expect. Do not wish.
The Table gives what it will.
Roll on this table until I finish making the generators! :)