Troffs are a mycological construct made from the magical interaction of mushrooms and decaying willowtree bark at the hands of a very depressed Faermage (pronounced ffaermage, with a double f).
Troffs always mutter about how everything is leading to the Great Catastrophe, but what exactly that great catastrophe is, is still unclear. They usually like to gorge on thunder-truffles and have a sickly mauve aura about them.
Most other fungi-beasts avoid them due to the their melancholic outlook on life, knowing full well that to disseminate superstitions, such as the Troff’s coming Great Catastrophe, gives them a lot of bad indigestion.
Further historical studies in Fae Magic suggest that prolonged interaction with Troffs gives rise to regular aromatic pathogenic syndrome (RAPS). A paradoxical sweet smelling, but horrid virus, that causes one to wander about society muttering about the coming Great Catastrophe, but with a breath that smells a lot like roses or lavender.