Brinley Beasley, King of the Mountain

Unfortunately for the good people of Yargsbrorough, the old gods of the mountain have accepted the madman Beasley's claim to the throne of the old kingdom, six-thousand years dormant. Fortunately for him it means whatever he says is law for the domain of the mountain gods, an area about 32 miles square. Reality within this zone is his plaything. A lot of people would be very greatful to anyone who might go ahead and kill Beasley. Beasley would probably be ecstatic to have friends, or at least sycophants.

Have fun.

The Editor

Ezkriel Mosier has the ability to rewrite the history of anything or anyone he chooses by uppercutting it in its fucking face. The Retcon Uppercut is a mystical force known only by a select group of monks in he Himalayan mountains, which they mostly use to make goat meat more delicious by retroactively giving the goats better feed. The Editor uses it to fight crime, or get himself free stuff. He has never employed the Retcon Upper on himself; the monk who taught him the technique, Ubiquitous Mu, warned that to do so could unravel the fabric of reality in unforseen and disastrous ways. Or just make him forget how to Retcon Uppercut. Either way, bad ju-ju.

Fincher Gojek

Back in the dawn of the AI controlled Technocrocy of Allied Planets, there were revolutionaries, mostly organics with a few synthetics in the mix, who felt that the AIs could not be trusted with actual power. Their terrorist war lasted over six thousand years before it was finally quelled, and the most dangerous of the warriors who fought was known only as The Monster. He was a simple human, a man from one of the undersea ghettos of Nulantis, who became legendary for his kill-count, conservative estimates at the time numbering in the tens of billions, and his viciousness, having once destroyed a nursery with over ten million nascent AI. He was eventually captured and sentenced to eternity in digital prison, his body destroyed and his mind converted into simple data.

Fast-forward to today: the TAP hasn't existed for over a million years, and a dozen other governments have risen and fallen in just the last six thousand. One of those, the Holy Order of Sentience, has finally reached The Monster's cell in their re-evaluation of the freedom fighters against the Robot Menace. However, they fear his retribution, the stories of him still lingering in the histories, and so they agree to a compromise: they offer him two options, a quick death, or he agrees to never speak of his history again and be provided with as much wealth as he desires so long as he never harms another sentient life again. He quickly agrees, takes the offered unlimited-credit card handed to him, and disappears.

The HOS feel they did the right thing. The rumors of a shadow that murders by night are just rumors. The Monster is certainly not Fincher Gojek, security guard at Halposs Research. He did not help the Rogue, who murdered a thousand in his search for his lost memories, to be reunited with the Rampant AI Mad-Assa-Badger-Inna-Sack and escape the justice of two dimensions and a thousand governments. Nor did he slaughter the Masked Jailer in a mighty battle that leveled four buildings and caused a still-rising number of known casualties.

These events are fiction.

The Fifty-Five Districts of the Grey Man

Great stretches of nothing, dotted by the occasional primitive village living off the scraps of the megalopolises. In the long-run the world is identical to our own, but things are a bit weirder; mutants are as common as pure-blood humans, the Grey Man's lieutenants constantly perform experiments, men in bio-mechanical armor ride android horses to battle. Shit like that.

Probably gonna be a hex-crawl, with the eventual goal of reaching Saucer City and piercing the throne room of the Grey Man itself.

Rules for Wayfinders, part 1 of whatever

Every time a Wayfinder ship comes across a new island and is part of the formation of a new colony, another fish is added to its sail: sailing aboard a ship with many fish is considered an immense honor. For every fish on your ship, you get that many bonus dice to every roll made aboard it.