Scott Ruggels

Human fantasy is full of classes of being which, through one agency or another, have been rendered irredeemably "evil." Demons. Undead. Unseelie. If one wishes to slaughter creatures without a twinge of guilty conscience, such things are well precedented and available to the fantasy genre. But they're things whose existence is fundamentally different from ours in some way. They may not think or feel the way we do, or interact with us or each other in the same ways as us. They may not be subject to normal aging and death, or may lack souls, or the like. They may come from a radically different environment which shaped them that way, or even have consciously chosen to follow that path.
 
If your intent is to apply the distinction between good and evil to any race with a society, family relationships, and free will at all resembling real humanity, just keep in mind that you're imposing modern concepts of ethics and morality on archaic civilizations for whom, for most of our history, such concepts did not exist. It wasn't that long ago that "The only good ____ is a dead ____" was a widely held view. It was long considered acceptable, sometimes even laudable, to kill followers of the "wrong" religion or customs, or who were held to be inferior by birth to the group doing the killing, or who were just part of a hostile tribe. (And in no few parts of the world, it still is.) Killing children was a practical measure to forestall an enemy restocking their supply of fighters, or to prevent them growing up and seeking revenge for the killing of their own loved ones.
 
If your gaming group wants to view an historically-inspired world through the modern lens, you've already moved beyond justifying killing out of hand anything in which you can see some reflection of ourselves.

One of the ideas that has become a big deal in D&D circles is that there shouldn't be inherently Evil races.
 
I'll refrain from ranting about this and cut to the chase.

Surely, creating an Evil Race is a very Evil act. The kind of thing that the Evilest of Evils would do, just to be Evil. (And because minions are useful.)

So, in other words, if inherently Evil races didn't exist, they would be created!

While I came up with this through an independent line of thought, Tolkien had already done it, as you would expect. He described the "creation" of Orcs as one of Morgoth's Most Evil Deeds.

Evil races can therefore plausibly exist, and the fact of their existence should, in fact, be horrifying.

If you need metaphors for racism, you can always look somewhere else. Just stay away from residential schools for Orc children unless you really want to go there.

Also, "race" isn't a good term. Something else would be better.

Thoughts?

 

I checked through a few editions, and the qualifier that Universal Translator only enables one to speak or write a language "crudely" seems to appear in 5th edition. 4th edition version just says that, yeah, you can speak, read and write any language you encounter. (With a few qualifiers such as physical ability to "speak" in the mode presented). So one solution is just to use 4th edition. (I'm not checking previous editions.)
 
OK, so you're stuck with a particular edition and you don't want to say the Rules As Written for that edition are pointlessly limiting. Steve Long gave another way out in 5e by deriving Talents from standard Powers and Skills. Officially, Universal Translator consists of two Detects: Detect Meaning of Speech [10 points] + Detect Meaning of Text [10 points]. Except thi9s is wrong. BY RAW, a basic Detect only registers the presence and intensity of some object or quality. Detect Meaning of Speech will only tell you that yup, that's speech and it has more or less meaning. You need Discriminatory, at the very least. And you would also need Transmit in order to speak back.
 
So let's "correct" the derivation, while conserving the final cost, by treating it this way: Detect Meaning of Speech (3 points -- pretty specialized), Discriminatory (+5 points), Transmit (+2 points); + Detect Meaning of Text (3 points), Descriminatory (+5 points), Transmit (+2 points). Though by RAW you could reduce the cost to 15, because you can add a second class of entity to a Detect for a flat +5 points without needing to re-purchase all the added modifiers.
 
To Detect and Transmit the finer shades of meaning implied by true mastery of a language, add Analyze. For the verion of UT that conserves existing point values that pushes the final cost to 30 points. Using the two-categories hack, the final cost drops back to 20 points.
 
You'll still have to make a PER Roll to comprehend or communicate in the language, but getting a better roll for this single Enhanced Sense costs only 1 point per +1. Buy +3 and I think it's fair to say you'now effectively have 4 points of fluency in any language you enounter.
 
If you're *really* persnickety, add +2 points for "Sense", so you can use it without needing a half-Phase action. But I think you can bring the whole thing in at 25 points.
 
Dean Shomshak

I agree with LL the primary function of the GM is to ensure the players fun. I ran a campaign in the early days of Champions in which one of the player characters was called Waterbug her primary ability was to walk on water, str of 13 and a gadgeteer. Over time I had introduced a series of villains tailored to specific player heroes, usually a 2-3 session arc in which the "baddie" would either be captured or escape to make an appearance later. I eventually created a villain for her. The ENTOMOLOGIST. His stchick was creating giant bugs. I had planned a a 6 session story arc, in 1 introduction, thru 2+3 defeating and humiliating the heroes, in 4 kidnapping Waterbug, in 5 the team tracking him down and the Entomologist torturing and attempting to extract her DNA to enhance his bugs, finally in 6 the "rescue", capture, trial and imprisonment of the Evil doer and the end of his reign of terror. 
     Everything went as planned up to session 5, the team was tracking and had located the Entomologists lair, I had arranged the lighting to be lowered to enhance the torture scene, and that is when I screwed up. I had planned on the use of a spinal tap needle (in my youth I had under gone such a procedure you do not want to do so,, ever). I was sitting in a corner of the room, in the dark, and was basically a disembodied voice coming out of that dark. I got too involved in the story and stopped watching the players. I described in excruciating detail the needle, the insertion, the pain the pain that lasts for weeks after. End of session 5, and I flicked the lights on. BOOM!! She is pale, sweating and races to the loo. 
     The group I was running at that time was 7 people, 4 gentlemen 3 ladies and a soon as the loo door closed the other two ladies began to beat me about the head and shoulders both figuratively and literally. When she  returned.,, we had planned to have a group supper that we all assisted in making, she wanted to continue right away so we decided on take out. (things like Doordash are not new). The other two ladies were still going after me and she came to my defense. So session 6, heroes arrive, massive combat, derring do, rescue, bad guy to prison and an end to his reign of terror. 
     When I planned the arc, I did not know she had an absolute horror of needles. Lesson learned, Know your players, talk to them out of game, learn what makes them tick, I had already used the kidnapping thing in a previous arc on someone who had been a friend for twenty years and everybody had raved about it. Know their strengths and their weaknesses, I am an Aliuraphobe  I hate cats my wife loves them. We would continue with champions for another year, then move to FH. 
     

The most annoying villain I have encounters was Roadrunner.   He was a speedster that was incredibly difficult to hit and like to go out of his way to be annoying.   I still remember him dumping a McDonalds shake on my character and then dumping a coke on me, saying that shakes always made him thirsty.   He had a high DCV that made him really hard to hit and had a running dodge and a high enough DEX and skill levels he could dive for cover out of most area of effect attacks.   
 
I managed to catch him one time by waiting till he was jumping over me (to pour the coke on me) and put my tear gas arrow in the hex he was going to land in.  Not only did he not have the defense he took double damage from the attack so ended up getting stunned.   The attack lasted a turn, so he ended up being knocked out in his next phase.   I think I was one of the only characters to ever capture him.  
 

Gonno the Oread and Galiante the Tiefling are parents again - a son, whom they name Vyndos. Surprisingly, he’s fully human. Shev’s a dad as well. He considers that a good time to quit being a troubleshooter for the town. 
 
Shev: I’m not adventuring anymore, I have a business to run and a kid now.
Arram: After the whole thing getting a wedding gift for you I’m glad we didn’t have to do it again. 
 
Arram has his own problems - another woman in town has made it clear she considers him Selversgard’s Most Eligible Bachelor. He endeavors to prevent the problematic love triangle before it becomes acute. He also finalises his purchase of the Tolland Manor, on the condition he converts the downstairs into the new schoolhouse. The Council want to turn the previous schoolhouse back into a warehouse.
 
Arram: But I’d bought that one too.
Gonno: And the Council want to buy it back. 
 
Miya’s dojo got formally accredited by the Church of Irori, the god of self-perfection (although the GM initially said Kord, the Stormlord).
 
Shev: You’ve lost all cred - now you’re *official*.
Arram: The Church of Kord is basically an association of very friendly gym-bros.
 
Skave is still coming to terms with being a widower, and thus turns down the advances of another Ysoki. She is annoyed, but doesn’t seem to be planning any vengeances. 
 
People wander in and out of Selversgard all the time. Some are just seeking work, or fleeing trouble in their past residence, but recently somebody arrived that will challenge Arram’s position as M.E.B. - a flamboyant aquatic elf pirate who says his name is Eddison, plonked his feet up on a table in one of the taverns, and made himself at home. He says he used to work at a restaurant in Magnimar, L'Anus Serré. He’s one of those people that people either adore or deeply dislike. The Blue Dragon inn provides him with work, once income becomes necessary. 
 
A bit after that, on the festival day of Cayden Cailean’s ascension to godhood after a drunken bet, Hellknights turn up in town. Fortunately, one of them is Alveson, from the Order of the Nail. He’s back to having two arms, at least. They’re here to let us know they’ve hunted down three of the chain devils, but the fourth evades them.
 
Alveson: We were hoping to hire a boat so we could return to base without having to cross country again.
Skave: Sure, sure. Come this way and we’ll get some beers in you first.
Alveson: That would be most welcome.
 
At least Hellknights of the Nail aren’t Fun Police, and welcome good beer and hot food especially on a clear and very cold night like tonight. One of the other employers asks Eddison if he’s seen Mikki anywhere - she was scheduled to do a dance number in 15 minutes. Probably a more tasteful dance than is happening at the Fisherman’s Arms. 
 
Arram: I try not to drink too much, what with the whole ‘shooting fire from my hands’ thing. So I come to the tavern with the better food. 
Eddison OoC: Which is the Blue Dragon, since I started working here.
 
Arram pops upstairs to Mikki’s room while Eddison manages the crowd. He finds her in bed with one of the Hellknights.
 
Arram: Ah, Mikki, you’re on soon.
Mikki: I’m off soon.
Eddison OoC: Just as well I didn’t come upstairs myself - I’d have left the door open while I said that.
 
Mikki does make it to stage on time, and her paramour descends to rejoin the party looking only slightly flustered. The party winds up earlier than it might, but people want to get home before their doorlocks freeze off.
 
Arram: And it’s Ascension Day, we started early. 
 
Gonno and Galiante are reeling homewards from the Fisherman’s Arms singing ‘Show Me The Way To Go Home’. 
 
Eddison OoC: So we can expect a third sprog in 9 months.
 
Eddison: What’s up Mikki, you’re looking a bit down there.
Mikki: Well, it’s hard to celebrate when you’re this sore.
 
Apparently the Hellknight was a bit rough.
 
Mikki: I got well and truly Nailed.
 
Eddison arranges a hot bath. He has a few magical tricks that will help, but then he’s a failed wizard.
 
Mikki: You’re an angel.
Arram: By ‘failed wizard’ did they open the door first?
Eddison: I was allowed to leave upright.
 
Skave, who is busily drinking himself blotto, is distracted from this important task by growling in the common room, currently full of cheerful drunk and asleep customers. One of the Hellknight is standing upright, snarling, ripping off his uniform, and sprouting a muzzle and a lot of hair. The Ysoki reaches for the Panacea he prepared earlier - sobriety seems required.
 
Skave: Cool, I haven’t seen one of these in a while - *glug* - wait, this is an issue. ARRAM WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Easy boy, easy!
 
Sudden Werewolf is probably bad, since the town militia doesn’t have a specific warning signal for lycanthropes, and Eddison only prepared a few entertainment spells for the holiday. Fortunately one of them is Snapdragon Fireworks. And Arram had Web prepared.
 
Mikki: What the hell is going on?
Eddison: WEREWOLF
Mikki: Werewolf? Oh cr*p. *starts singing some magical encouragement*
 
The werewolf breaks free of the web (briefly) and goes for Mikki. Eddison has a suspicion exactly which Hellknight this was.
 
Arram: I’ve got precisely one more combat spell that’s safe to use in a building. RAY OF FROST.
 
The werewolf tries to bite away the webbing restraining it, bites itself instead, and passes out.
 
Arram: …. Did I just knock it out with a Web spell?
Miya: It knocked ITSELF out with your web spell. Remember that when you tell the story later. 
 
While Arram and Eddison debate the best way to secure the werewolf, he reverts to human. Unfortunately he’s not just unconscious, he’s dead. Mikki, now wearing a robe, comes to check his identity.
 
Mikki: F***!  F***! F***!
Arram: … I hope that is not a vector of transmission.
Eddison: Er, exactly how rough was he, earlier.
Mikki: Rough, strong, no he didn’t bite me.
Arram: I’m not an expert and I’m HAPPY to do more research but I’m pretty sure you're fine.
Mikki: What if I’m not, what if I turn into a monster??
Eddison: I’m sure that’s not going to happen, and you know why? You danced so well that Cayden Cailean wouldn’t let it happen.
Mikki: Well thanks, but I’m Desnan.
 
The remaining Hellknights are a bit shocked. And get a dressing down from Eddison about how they didn’t even suspect lycanthropy after a wolf ran up to them in the middle of the night, in a swampy area with a stream running through it south of town, savaged one of their hands, and ran off again. The woods around Selversgard are notorious for lycanthropes.
 
Miya: Wait, the full moon isn’t for weeks. 
 
That is certainly odd. Newly turned werewolves shouldn't transform until the next full moon. At least they’re not infectious until they turn themselves. Closer examination reveals a dot of transformative magic inside the late Hellknight’s hand - a small black barbed teardrop. Arram pries it out into a silver dish, just in case. The transformative aura is fading, but Arram can’t tell what the teardrop is made of.
 
Skave: Hmm?
Arram: I swear to god if you try to touch this I’ll cut your hand off.
 
It’s made of volcanic glass - good for making temporary magic items. There’s one volcanic area up on the plateau, but obsidian is not widely available around here. Arram runs off to get the druid Silas (Mayor this year)  before the magical aura fades completely.
 
Eddison may be a Caileanite, but he did do a Harrow reading early that makes a little more sense in retrospect, and Desna-worshippers like Mikki should appreciate it and at the very least it should distract her from her worries. Admittedly the ‘outsider threatening the community’ probably refers to something we already know about.
 
Arram: Yeah, that’s the chain devil, it’s been running around loose for months.
 
Silas examines the obsidian flake and recognises that it’s not just transmutation magic but druidic magic. That could make it much more infectious, theoretically, if it’s exploiting the natural essences of growth and change. Bad news for Mikki.
 
Arram: At least the contraceptive spell is entry-level magic at the Bardic college.
 
Assuming she actually uses that spell, or the prophylactic tea based on the Desna’s Starflower. She assures Eddison that she doesn’t actually require either, thanks to a very serious injury suffered when she was younger, and can’t currently afford to have magically restored. 
 
Eddison: Well, something to fix later. Wait, you’re human - not that much later. 
 
After everybody else crawls off to bed or their alchemical lab, Arram has some questions for Eddison - he was clearly using a golden flagon to add alchemical modifications to his magic. They also discuss what it’s like to be kicked out of wizard school vs. being a sorcerer who finished his education at one.
 
Eddison: I just wanted to have fun. Filling a dormitory with followers of Lymnieris (the empyreal lord of prostitution, rites of passage, and virginity) was probably the final straw.
 
Gonno OoC: Eddison isn’t one of Selversgard’s official troubleshooters yet
GM: When did you become official?
Gonno OoC: By ‘official’ I mean ‘default’.
 
Skave wakes up with a head that feels like it’s three feet across and full of sawdust. This is probably a good time to remember some of Cayden Cailean’s divine advice - ‘Things that seem like great ideas when you’re drunk do not always still seem like great ideas the next morning’, and ‘the importance of moderation’.
 
Eddison: “Dude, you became a god after you went on a bender so extreme you DON'T REMEMBER how you became a god.”
 
It’s debatable that anybody would trust a lycanthropy cure Skave brews under normal conditions, let alone one he brews when he has a hangover like this. Of course we don’t need to brew one for the Hellknight, since he’s dead.
 
Miya: We cured him, technically.
 
But there’s still the possibility that Mikki is infected, and it’s unlikely she'll appreciate one treatment plan Arram and Skave come up with - kill her and resurrect her. For one thing neither of them can cast Resurrection.
 
Gonno OoC: I know you can work miracles with your hangover cures, but there are limits.
 
Of course, as an Outsider Gonno is immune to Lycanthropy, so putting him at the front of whatever troubleshooting is required sounds like a good idea. Silas of the Green comes to meet Skave, with a goodberry for the hangover and the obsidian chip in a protective glass case. He wants the alchemist's opinion, and Skave invites him into the lab.
 
Silas: Will it be safe?
Skave: Statistically, no.
 
The chip is imbued with magic that is based on the principles of similarity - the victim is infected with the essence of another werewolf. This is very bad news for Mikki, if the other werewolf is a natural werewolf. They probably ARE going to need an anti-lycanthropy potion. And given how incredibly poisonous Aconite is, probably cast Bear’s Endurance and other Fortitude buffs on Mikki first. She grabs the flask and sculls it.
 
Gonno: Are you SURE you’re not a follower of Cayden Cailean?
Eddison: I think she’s making a definitive statement of ‘Better Dead Than Furry’.
 
The side effects are unpleasant, We’ll probably have to wait an hour to see if they’re fatal. And a few more days to see if it even worked.
 
Arram: It’s a tad grim…but I’ve got a couple of heavy steel tables with manacles at the back of my house.
 
Alternatively, find the other werewolf and sever the connection there.
 
Arram: I assume in the traditional manner?
Silas: If you mean decapitation, yes.
 
Silas’ druid circle might consider werewolves an abomination, but that doesn’t mean they all do.
 
Arram: Organised religion doesn’t have the monopoly on schisms.
 
At least we have the obsidian chip to use as a divination aid for locating the werewolves and druids involved. Pity they didn’t wait until the Hellknights had finished off that last chain devil. If it was the Sons of Ash druid circle they need to be sent a message - “don’t mess with Selversgard”.
 
Eddison: Well, I wish you all well with that… why are you looking at me like that.
Mikki: Oh god i want to die.
Eddison: Well apparently these guys want me to as well.
Roger, The Blue Dragon’s Owner: Well the way I see it you have two choices - you can go with them and help or you can stay here and wipe Mikki’s A** every time she makes a mess.
Eddison: …. …. I’m thinking about it.
 
At least the elf has a Go-Bag for emergencies like this. Gonno’s extraplanar ancestry apparently makes him immune to hangovers, which saves some time too. Moving at speed we can reach the ford where the Hellknight was attacked within 4 hours. Although the weather isn’t the best.
 
Arram: I’ve been under the effect of Endure Elements for the last seven years.
Eddison: And I’m an aquatic elf
Skave: And I’m a half-drowned rat.
 
Arram: The necklace can detect Wet Dog in this direction. 
 
The Werewolf-detector 3000 leads us to a cottage in the wilderness.
 
Arram: We’ve found grandma’s house and thankfully we bought a lumberjack.
 
Gonno goes to knock on the door and falls into a spike pit. With poisoned spikes.
 
Gonno: … ow.
Arram: You alright down there, Gonno?
Gonno: Not entirely.
 
And then Miya gets shot by somebody who’s stuck their head up through the thatch. Arram retaliates with Burning Hands.
 
GM: There’s a good chance that will set the thatch on fire.
Arram: One problem at a time. She DID just launch an unprovoked attack on us when we’re hunting a werewolf.
 
At least it’s wet thatch, or was, before the Burning Hands. Miya, Skave and Gonno crowd up against the wall so they don’t get sniped. Gonno attempts to kick the door in without falling into the pit again. Skave finds a hidden door, which is promising. 
 
And then the chain devil turns up, which is not. At least she’s smiling at us from where she’s sitting on the fence, as her chains destroy the rest of the door. That MIGHT be a positive sign?
 
https://pathfinder.fandom.com/wiki/Kyton?file=Kyton.jpg
 
Eddison: Hiiiiii?
 
The woman that was sniping at us is downing a potion, and growing a muzzle and fur. So we have a werewolf on one side and a cenobite on the other.
 
Gonno: I think I was better off down the pit.
 
The Kyton raises its hands.
 
Kyton: I am not planning on being a threat to you. You should probably deal with that werewolf first - and then we can reason together.
Skaven: Oh great, a deal with a demon.
Arram: Devil.
Kyton: It’s complicated.
 
At least the werewolf goes down after a few rounds of mauling Gonno with a silver scimitar, kukri, and non-silver teeth. The Kyton still wants to parley.
 
Kyton: And you had some association with the Hellknights?
Arram: … Allies, of a sort.
Kyton: I hope you don’t share their desire to execute me?
Arram: To be completely honest we only found out there was one of you left last night, and if this werewolf thing hadn’t come up we probably would have organised a hunting party.
Kyton: That’s unfortunate.
 
The Kyton assures us that it has no interest in whatever town we’re from, and will limit its attention to the countryside where it can continue its fun vacation to the Material Plane. It even offers to pay rent, but Eddison hurriedly points out that any deal with devils is never going to end well. Arram suggests that if it DOES limit itself to the countryside we won’t tell the Hellknights we saw her. Gonno strongly suggests she head towards the Cinderlands - if she’s going to go around mutilating people then please let it be the marauding Orc tribes. 
 
Arram: No offense but I hope we never see each other again.
Kyton: Oh, a handsome mortal like you? I would have quite enjoyed seeing a lot more of you.
Eddison: THAT’S HOW YOU GET TIEFLINGS
Gonno: That’s how you get SHACKLEBORN tieflings
Miya: Ugh.
Kyton: I’ve borne three myself.
 
Eddison suggests she head north by northeast - that’ll take her to the Worldwound, where a rift to the Abyss has been pouring out an endless tide of demons for years. Demons and devils do not get on, and the area is swarming with paladins as well, but it’s not like Eddison was going to tell the Chain Devil THAT.
 
We check the obsidian chip in case there’s still another werewolf around - it swings wildly on its chain, which is worrying - until we realise it’s the chain devil controlling it.
 
Kyton: I couldn’t resist.
All: 😠
Kyton: She was the only werewolf around here. Quite the dominant force. I’ve been watching.
 
The Kyton strolls off. We are not sorry to see her go. We just hope she keeps her word. 
 

Man!  Suddenly i don't want this power.
 
I can't imagine having to repeat everything 7,151 times!   That would be like having eight kids!
 
 

Since you want it, I hope for your sake they do. But personally, I've found both comic companies to have been rather creatively bankrupt for years, and their universes having become something of a convoluted bloated mess. Neither world entices me to role-play in it any more.
 
I'm happier with our Champions Universe for my supers gaming fix.

I not sure, I am a very good liar, but still actions are much stronger than words.

admittedly, that was a hyper-condensed recounting of events from across six or eight months, but by the time she knew we were going to get married (took her a while.  I knew it on the first date.  She didn't believe me.  (Who's crazy now, Woman?!    )
 
I totally admit it: I got lucky.  I am a bluntly open person.  There wasn't anything she didn't know pretty early on, so there was nothing to wonder about how she would react.
 
Now as for the proposal, it was more like this:
 
I got phone call that the ring I had specified had been completed.  I swung by the jeweler's on the way home and picked it up.  Timing was great! We had a weekend trip planned, etc.  
 
I went home, and she was asleep on the couch (she had worked a double, and wasn't home when I left.  I was still three years away from having my spine crushed, so I took the cat off of her (they both enjoy napping in the sun), squatted down, scooped her up, and carried her to bed.
 
She opened an eye as I was sitting her onto the bed, mumbled something that could have been a thank you or a curse, and sort of smiled (so no help there; a sort of smile is a sheepish thank you or a mean spirited curse.  See, I haven't always been crippled, but I can't even remember a time before hearing problems, even back in childhood).
 
As I straightened up, she saw the receipt in my shirt pocket (because like an idiot, I followed that habit) and grabbed it, jokingly mumbled "aww, did you buy me something...?"
 
Then her eyes bugged out and she jerked upright, wide-awake, wider-eyed, spouting ejaculations of surprise that aren't really fit to repeat, waving the receipt about and sputtering half-thoughts and half-plans (not a small amount of which were thoughts on discouraging me!)
 
Then she calmed down and said "Okay; fine (because she is so romantic), but one more year.   When we have been together for three years, we can get married.
 
So we can buy a house at eight months, but marriage is a serious commitment?
 
Yeah; exactly."
 
Great!  But what if I want more?  What if I decide I want to shoot for first prize? 
 
You will have to get kneed in the groin at least twice a week while we sleep.
 
Sweet!  
 
Sweet?
 
Well that"a way better then the current twice-a-night arrangement!
 
 
That was over twenty years ago.
 
I hate past tense me; younger, muscular, uncrippled me.  I really wish he had tried harder for first prize.

If our bio chemistry is significantly different, the viruses probably wouldn’t jump, like most viruses stick with their host creatures. It took millennia for creatures to evolve to eat, wood. Our Carboniferous age was caused by piles of dead vegetation and trees becoming compacted in situ, eons before something evolved to eat them. 

Hero Games' Turakian Age setting has some interesting funerary customs specifically aimed at keeping undead to a minimum.
 
"In southern Mhorecia, particularly Besruhan and Velkara, the custom is to bind the body tightly in a fetal position with special cords. The bound body, along with grave goods appropriate to its station and profession, is placed in a large pottery burial urn, which the dead person's family buries in the ground (or possibly a tomb of some sort). The southern Mhorecians believe these measures minimize or eliminate the risk of a person coming back to unlife or being subjected to Necromancy." (The Turakian Age p. 168)
 
"In 3943 SE, a terrible plague struck Shar. People died by the thousands, and so swiftly did the disease strike that not even the spells of the priests could stem the tide. At times, the streets of the cities were clogged with corpses, and the army was so weakened that Goblin-tribes ran amok throughout the land.
 
The Masked Lords rightly feared that so many unburied bodies would only cause the plague to worsen or linger, or lead to an infestation of the undead. Unwilling to risk the existence of the realm, with the help of the witch Badonrai they called to a pack of Ghouls, and formed with them an eerie Compact: the ghouls would carry away and consume the bodies of the plague-dead, and in return the folk of Shar would not harry or slay them, but treat them as they would any other people with whom they traded. The Ghouls agreed, and through their own mysterious pathways they sent word to their brethren. Many Ghouls came to Shar, and the people were saved from both plague and undead.
 
From that day to this, the folk of Shar have accounted the Ghouls as friends, and Ghouls live in the shadows throughout Shar, coming out at night to remove the dead, or perhaps to trade with stout-hearted merchants. To harm a Ghoul is no different, at law, than to harm a Man, and a Ghoul who harms the living is punished by his fellow Ghouls as if he had harmed one of them. Thanks to the Ghouls, both undead and Necromancy are rare in Shar." (The Turakian Age p. 107)

I think a more salutary approach to an annoying super team is the Flashmen, from the 4E Allies Champs supplement. The Flashmen aren't pranksters, they're con men who have built up a completely undeserved reputation as sterling heroes. They excel at public relations by staging events at which they "save the day," and at claiming credit for the actions of other heroes, including the PCs. They function best as rivals to PC heroes, swooping in to "rescue" them or otherwise outshine them in the public's eye. Player response to their actions tends not to be a desire to kill them, as with CLOWN, but rather to publicly expose them as frauds.

CLOWN.
 
Absolutely no contest.  No other annoyance, no other published or homebrewed villain has ever come close.  Even as an amateur etymologist, I am completely at a loss to find any words (that wont get me banned) to describe what a horrible, horrible, horrible idea CLOWN was in every possible way, or how unfathomably desperate ICE must have been for something to publish.  Never in the history of the written word-- and I am including fan fiction and furry porn here-  has anything so absolutely awful ever been put to paper.
 
CLOWN has ended not one, but two different campaigns under two different GMs for me.  I was a player in a then-six-year campaign.  The GM had bought CLOWN at some point, and had been itching to use them, and finally worked up just how to insert them into our game.
 
Keep in mind that we had gone through, if I remember correctly, about eight story arcs with this campaign-- we were all young and single,and gamed a four-hour session on Wednesday evenings and all day on Sunday.  It was an old-time comic book kind of game--  as you all know, I am not comic savy, but I believe it was what you call Golden Age: there was still a strong feel of the pulp era's two-fisted justice, heroic characters were good of heart, thought, and deed; villains were simply born to villains, and moral ambiguity was the most impossible of fiction.
 
We were the clear-cut good guys, glib with our one-liners, delivered as surely and consistently as our blows with every sock to the jaw, and in our off time we sponsored school events, electoral participation, fiscal frugality, and children's toothpaste.  The public loved us, the police thanked us for our help, and the President would call and tell us how swell we were.
 
And we- stalwart examples of ultimate goody twoshoes, all costumed and superpowered Jesi to a man-
 
were driven to brutally murder each and every member of CLOWN-  not even with rays of mystic energy from magic amulets or cosmic beams of radiation or even a merciful sniper's bullet, but with brute force- bare fists and bludgeons.
 
Their propensity for escape and the beyond irritating, hyper-stupidity of their very concept was so insanely irritating that we, the players, about the third time they made an appearance, made a pact, and the next time we captured them, rather than take them to jail and let them wreak,even more havoc, we tied them to poles and beat them like concrete pinatas until there was nothing left but a thick liquid on the floor of our secret cavern headquarters, then turned ourselves in for it.
 
Six year campaign, done.  Eight players, and to this day, none of us regret having done it, and that particular GM, so far as I ever heard, ever attempted to use CLOWN with us or any other group.  
 
Totally worth it.
 
Fast forward four years or so to a different game under a different GM:
 
There were six players, myself and one other from the group that murdered CLOWN.  This campaign had been in play for just over two years, playing six-hour sessions on Saturday mornings (while the GM's two little kids watched cartoons, finished homework, etc).
 
One day we raced to a crime scene to find CLOWN fleeing the scene in that obnoxiously-concieved car of theirs, dealing life-threatening mischief to bystanders even as they fled.
 
Five of us begged off and quit the game on the spot.  Apparently only her brother (the sixth player) had never been exposed to CLOWN before.
 
For my opinion?  Save Wings of the Valkyrie.  The worst thing in it was the emotional and ethical dilemma over the necessity of having to save Hitler.  That absolutely pales in comparison to having to endure the existence of CLOWN.  Only one HERO Games product has ever been pulled from shelves and banished from official preservation.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the best possible choice for such treatment.
 
 

This is one of the key lessons from Strike Force: make your game fit what your players and you want.  Don't use a stamp to crank out yet another dungeon crawl or whatever the module you bought says. 
 
If you have players who are just murder hobos, give them appropriate stuff to kill and things to loot.  If you have players who love to explore, give them an are with interesting elements and encounters to enjoy.  If you have players who love to roleplay, give them opportunities to ham it up with their character.  If you have players who love romances and interaction with NPCs, give them ladies and gentlemen to encounter and interact with.
 
What makes the game appealing, memorable, and enjoyable is the ability of the GM to craft a great story, but also to fill the needs and interests of their players.  Everyone shows up for a different reason, and being able to read that in your players is a key GM skill.

On the other hand, in a fantasy setting it is perfectly normal to have sub human monsters that are innately evil and always safe to attack and destroy.  Many (most?) players do not want to sit down with the dice and face moral dilemmas and question themselves constantly: was it okay to wipe out that goblin village?

Using the D&D style restrictions in a Fantasy Hero game is not a good idea.  They are two very different games that play completely differently.  There are already some limitations built into the system that address some of the things you are worried about.  Fantasy Hero actually has less of an imbalance between casters and non-casters than other systems.
 
The first thing to consider is that every point spent on magic skill and spells is a point not available for other things.  In the hero systems you have to pay for everything.  That means the typical warrior is going to have better physical stats, more skill levels and probably more skills.  The caster will have a slight advantage in versatility, but not as much as you think.  Talents allow even a non-caster to pick up special abilities.  Things like Weapon Master, Combat Luck and Danger Sense give the warriors a way  become very good at what they do.
 
Second thing is that in Fantasy Hero equipment does not cost any points.  The warrior does not have to pay for his armor or weapons which is a huge advantage.  The spell caster on the other hand has to pay CP for each spell.  A warrior with full plate, a great sword and long bow is getting the equivalent of an extra real 35pts for free.
 
Combining both of these factors means that the warrior is going to probably do a lot better in combat than the wizard.  I can easily get my archer up a 3d6 killing attack and be able to easily hit most targets.  The wizard is going to be hard pressed to match that directly.  What he will have is unusual attacks and a lot of out of combat utility. 
 
Spells also usually have a lot of limitations on them.  While this does reduce the cost it also makes them easier to counter.  Requiring mandatory limitations on spells is the best way to limit casters.  In addition to having certain required limitations having a minimum amount of limitations is a good idea.  For example you could require all spells to have a minimum of a -2 limitation.  That would mean that all spells have to have an additional -1 ½ limitation in addition to the required skill.

I would look at just dropping the required magic skill roll and add charges.  I think perhaps a small limitation also stating either you need the required rest or prayers also (-1/4 max).

Honestly, if she is going to do all that you need her to do, a cat burgler wouldn't have the skillset. She needs organizational skills and a very detailed set of knowledge just to run personal security. Remember, burglers know security systems, how to get around them, and how to figure out when nobody is around. But they are not snipers (nor do they know how to prevent them). You've set up her role to be that of the Secret Service and her role seems to require more management, organization, cooperation, heavy planning, and failure mitigation. Instead of a burgler, the role you are describing is that of a secret service agent, or even an agent from another country that may have been turned (think Black Widow).

I sometimes feel like the rest of us are supporting characters on The Duke Bushido Show. 😉

Not only do I not really understand the question, but the answers thus far are making me feel like I should make a heavy investment in lottery tickets, to boot!
 
When we were dating:
 
You have a motorcycle!  Two motorcycles!  I _love_ motorcycles!
 
Yeah, me, too.
 
Why do you keep them on the driveway like that, with the truck?  Don't most bikers keep them in the garage?
 
It's a one car garage.  It only holds twelve bikes.
Hunh?  Ohhhh......
 
Wow!  That's quite the library for a single guy!  You have an entire wall of books!  I am impressed!
 
No; those are games and gaming books.  Pleasure reading is that wall over there.
 
Those...  Those are technical manuals.
 
I know!  Aren't they awesome?!
 
Oooh!  I filing cabinet!  I love an organized man!
 
Yeah, that one is for character sheets, though,  the one for records is in between the washer and dryer.
 
What is the one in the bedroom?
 
Instruction manuals and warranty cards for power tools.
 
 
Tell me these aren't for paintball or nerf or something....
 
No; those are real.  
 
What's this wierd ghost toy on the television?
 
That"s Earthworm Jim.  The cat loves him.
 
Cat?
 
Yeah.  When the sun is on the TV, he sleeps up there and grooms Earthworm Jim.  When the sun is not on the television, he is on top of the water heater.
 
What do you mean?  He doesnt run around and play?
 
Nah. He's like twelve.   Really, he's the perfect pet.  Wherever you left him yesterday, that's where he will be until you move him.  It's more like owning the pelt of a cat, really....
 
You were going to look at my car...?
 
Oh yeah; let me open the garage.
 
Wow!  It's full of motorcycles!
 
I told you; it holds twelve.  So anyway, got plans for this afternoon?
 
I don't know.  Why?  What have you got in mind?
 
I dunno.  Get married?
 
Damn right!
 

 
 
 

The old advice was to never marry outside of the hobby. I had a ton of odd spouse repellant hobbies like gaming, war gaming, amateur film, and WW2 re-enactments.  After a long term relationship I still got dumped and I figured out that my own happiness depends on me, and I was too selfish with my time for a proper relationship.  So the advice is avoid relationships? 

"I never thought it possible to have one's head in the sand and up their ass simultaneously, but you've managed quite a feat."

Returning to Selversgard to report that the old cemetery needs reconsecrating, we discover a violent argument in the marketplace - a number of the village women have Mikki, the entertainer at one of the village pubs, surrounded. Apparently they’re accusing her of being a bad influence on the morals of the town, saying that her admittedly lascivious stage shows encourage their husbands to attend the brothel, and that’s why the ghost attacked people.
 
Arram is forced to admit that the actual reason might be because he’s purchased the manor and THAT is what has disturbed the ghost. It’s certainly a hypothesis to consider. Mikki makes her escape.
 
Gonno moved in the wrong social circles to know if Emilia had any close friends she might have confided in. She’s probably just lucky that the arranged marriage was voided whe killed herself - none of us would put it past a Chelaxian to marry the corpse.
 
Arram: Chelaxians would check the contract first.
 
But examining the interior of the manor reveals that someone has definitely been in here - someone with small bare feet. They looked around the ground floor then headed upstairs. Shev’s study of the prints suggests a small woman or adolescent, used to going shoeless. 
 
Shev: I swear the locals are part-halfling.
 
The second floor includes the family bedrooms - only one door is open, and the tracks lead in and out. It’s probably Emilia’s. Her armoire has been opened, as well. There’s still a fair number of her personal items inside - brushes, combs, some jewelry, and a conspicuous triangular gap in the dust. About the right size for a broad-bladed dagger, in its sheath. But as Gonno muses, it doesn’t make any sense for it to be the suicide weapon - why would the family have put the weapon back in her armoire, and it has clearly been moved recently. It’s all very depressing - supernaturally depressing. Gonno, Arram, and Skave fail their saves against magically induced despair.
 
Arram: Well, let's find who's responsible, I suppose.
Gonno: Is there any point? Is there any point to anything?
Arram: Yes. I quite want to stab them for making me do all this extra work.
Miya: You have a small child, Gonno. There’s one reason.
Skave: *plaintively* I want to go home now.
Shev: Let’s all get out of here.
Miya: Don’t make me get the pointy stick.
 
The despair wears off after we leave the building. We really need to talk to some of Selversgard’s oldest residents, like Gelvert the dwarf and former mayor. And think about which teenager in town is most likely to break into a boarded-up building. Vok, following the scent of the tracks, leads the party back to the Garund household. And Toby Garund, the 12-year-old son of the family, certainly fits the build of the intruder.
 
Arram: Toby, you’ve been a very naughty boy. 

Shev: I’m just thinking of his terror when his school teacher turns up at the door. ‘No no no, you’re a school thing, you don’t come to my HOUSE’.
Miya: ‘BEGONE THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS COMPEL YOU’
 
Toby is currently out in the fields with his father. Time to go scare the short pants off him. 
 
Toby: … how.. How did you know?
Shev: Hi. I know where all you kids go.
Arram: I was going to go with the whole “I’m your teacher, I know everything’ but suddenly it’s the rat that’s the scary one.
 
The dagger is gold chased and has a ruby the size of his thumb in the pommel.
 
Shev: … yeah that’s the fetter.
 
But even returning the dagger to its place won’t necessarily put the ghost to rest. We still don’t know exactly why Emilia took her own life, beyond the obvious. Mother Maybell doesn’t want the dagger anywhere nearby.
 
Mother Maybell: Don’t get me mixed up in this!
 
Gelvert and his son Gelbert are surprised to see us, and definitely remembers the tragedy - he was one of the people organising the wedding, and had considerable business dealings with the Tollands. The wedding would have reopened the silver mine. He also recalls the high turn-over of servants at the house - and the feeling of crushing gloom even before the wedding. Emilia’s grandfather was an excellent businessman, and much more likable than Emilia’s father.
 
Gelvert: A man of his family, but the son was always a man of business. I never really liked him.
 
Gelvert doesn’t understand why Emilia killed herself - even in Selversgard no-one would have stopped her fleeing town to escape the wedding. Arram has some suspicions about that despair aura.
 
Gelvert: Young Skave, isn’t it? I hear you’re an alchemist.
Skave: Yes?
Gelvert: Emilia’s father was an alchemist, as I recall. Certainly liked to take things apart to see how they worked.
 
That’s ominous, especially if he got on so well with the Chelaxians. We now have some suspicions about that stone-lined tunnel the Ysoki unearthed beneath the manor.
 
Gelvert: You know, it’s strange but I never did find out where his lab was. And I did rely on his potions from time to time. When you get old things stop working quite as well.
 
Sennsa-Auel the elven madam might know more - she’s been running the Yellow House since the time. Old Meg, one of the fishwives, is now deceased, but she was the queen of gossip in Selversgard at the time. Perhaps one of her daughters, granddaughters, or great-granddaughters recall something. Gelvert is happy he can still be useful.
 
The manor certainly doesn’t have a basement (too close to the river’s flood level) but we do find one end of the tunnel - hidden in the servant’s stairwell. And a suspicious gap in the floorplan behind the master bedroom. Gonno can’t find any hidden doors in the stonework, but Vok can sniff out an alchemical lab even decades later. Even if it’s a combination of alchemical lab and torture dungeon. 
 
Gonno: I think we’ve found where some of the servants got to. 
 
Most of the accouterments are long since dried out, but there’s one long tube filled with grey fluid that’s still intact. It does not Detect as magical. Skave gets out a q-tip and goes to take a sample - holistic investigation is certainly his modus operandi. It attacks him.
 
Arram: I think this is a teachable moment and leave him to it.
Skave: I think we should get that thing off him, he’s got a kid!!!
 
The Ooze is horribly caustic, and also inflicts psychic damage. The Ysoki alchemist is almost overwhelmed. Those of us without ranged attacks backpedal fast. Gonno dives for two magical daggers that Arram Detected earlier. The suicidal despair it radiates certainly doesn’t help. Skave throwing a firebomb into a confined space doesn’t help either.
 
Arram: Shev I’ve always liked you but I’m going to have to kill your brother.
 
We are extremely fortunate that the thing succumbs to Arram’s Burning Hands spell, eventually. We turn to the younger Ysoki with various expressions of wrath.
 
Skave’s player: … I’ll start making a new character, then.
Miya: Skave, get up on the torture table.
 
We turn - and face the ghost. She reaches out to Arram, who offers the dagger. Her hand passes right through it, she smiles, and fades away.
 
Miya: Remind me to make an offering to Pharasma when we get out of here.

 

Lord-Mayor Barzillai Thrune, AKA “The Dogf***er”, is a man with multiple strikes against him. Firstly, he’s an Inquisitor of Asmodeus. Secondly, he’s a member of the Thrice-damned House of Thrune. Thirdly, he doesn’t like mint ice cream. This all adds up to Evil with three ‘E’s. EEEvil. Unfortunately, he’s also a bit smarter than we thought.
 
Admittedly, that might be on us. The so-called ‘Ghosts of Kintargo’ have been running around the city with so little difficulty, and successfully distracting the authorities with our fake ‘Nox the Redeemed’, that we may have started underestimating him. The fake Nox was certainly a good idea, and must have enraged Thrune no end. Even the rumours that his devil-sworn bodyguard was now working for the rebels would have been terrible PR for his administration, and there was still the question of how the Ghosts could possibly have switched her allegiance. Assuming the ‘Ghosts’ actually exist.
 
Of course, illusion magic is a thing. And further, there is absolutely nothing stopping Thrune having his own Nox. Revealing his own version, real or fake, at the Ruby Masquerade is a masterstroke, since there are over 300 of Kintargo’s richest and most influential citizens in attendance. Thrune can probably also guess that some of the rebellion leadership are in the crowd - although the jokes on him, we all are.
 
The really bad news, however, is that the dogbotherer seems willing to kill all those attendees in an effort to slander the Ghosts of Kintargo, and just said as much, as his dotarri lock the doors to the opera house with ourselves and hundreds of mostly-innocent citizens inside. And there’s the urgent question of WHY, when we’ve already established that assassinating Thrune in front of hundreds of witnesses is a bad idea, Civilla Alazario unilaterally decided to attack him. The rest of the Ghosts aren’t privy to the deal she made with the contract devil Cizmerkis, current owner of Nox's soul - and that deal was just called due.
 
Although Thrune is hopefully right about one thing - the colours of the Ghosts of Kintargo are indeed the colors of blood, of betrayal, and of death. HIS blood, betrayal, and death. He certainly seemed surprised that one of the Ghosts was standing right next to him on the stage. It’s just a pity that the assassin Rajira wasn’t standing on the other side, to stab him in the neck when he turned to yell ‘Betrayer!’ at Civilla.
 
Terzo OoC: I am trepidatious about tonight’s session. The only combat monster in the party is you.
Rajira OoC: I’m not a combat monster.
Terzo OoC: If your opponents are asleep you are.
 
And then our situation goes from bad to SO MUCH WORSE.
 
True, we’re trapped in a building with hundreds of civilians, and dozens of heavily armed dotarri and a high level Inquisitor of Asmodeus, but we’ve got Vendelfek the faerie dragon in the crowd, and Captain Sargaeta planted our fake Nox upstairs earlier. Chough, the Dire Corby adopted sister of those Kenku we recruited, has also been busy - she’s been disabling those cockatrice cages just in case Thrune WAS planning to drop them into the crowd. Alas, she isn’t in position to drop on Thrune from 60 feet up. And then, suddenly, a huge beautiful bewinged serpentine creature appears in and emerges from the orchestra pit, and a bunch of flying angelic figures drop their invisibility in the crowd, or fly in through up-stairs windows. Apparently they’re Azatas, benevolent celestials native to the plane of Elysium. Perhaps Thrune’s actions have finally provoked a response, or it’s some protocol to defend the Opera House when mass bloodshed is imminent?
 

 
Civilla: Do they have horns and are they spitting fire? No? Then they might be on our side.
 
Perhaps somebody else made plans for this evening. The Lillend Azata moves from the orchestra pit into the crowd, which panics in abject terror. Several of the party goers are crushed. Not a good start.
 
The Ghosts of Kintargo: What?!?!
 
And then one of the other Azata attacks Terzo.
 
The Ghosts of Kintargo: What?!?!?!?!!
 
The Azata are actually magically disguised Devils. 
 
The Ghosts of Kintargo: !!!!!!!!!!!
 
Even with all the rest of this happening, Civilla is skeptical that the chained Nox on the stage is the real thing - after being dismembered and scattered over multiple graves, it would take a Wish spell to locate her, let alone raise her from the dead. Our fake Nox doesn’t seem to care - the moment she spots the original her attention is entirely focused on her. Possibly we should have provided a script. Appearing on the upstairs balcony and shouting “The rumours are true, Barzillai! You DO F*** dogs.”, perhaps.
 
Civilla Dimension Slides two stories straight up, onto the chandelier, and unleashes a Xill onto Barzillai. Xills are ethereal marauders with four arms that use their poisoned mandibles to paralyze their victims and implant eggs, but right now she’s beyond caring whether they're evil or not.
 

 
To her shock, Thrune shrugs off every attack. Happily another of the fake Azata goes after Shimza and comes within claws-reach of the Xill. Although it’s extremely alarming that the Barbed Devils seem to know exactly where the Ghosts of Kintargo are in the crowd. Although it’s likely they devils have been studying the crowd and marking everybody with a Good aura that is powerful enough to be a threat. Certainly they didn’t target Rajira.
 
Rajira uses her claws and her poisonous saliva to injure Thrune, but once again he shrugs off the venom. 
 
Barzillai: You DARE attack your Mayor?!
 
He attacks with his flaming mace, which is exactly when Avya explodes into a vortex of tattooed creatures, which is certainly surprising. Thrune certainly wasn’t expecting it. Nor was Thrune’s Nox. Shimza joins Civilla in the chandelier, and casts Euphoric Cloud on some of the Bearded Devils and dotarri. It might not drug a devil, but it DOES fill a large chunk of the dance floor with obscuring fog. 
 
The real Nox spots our fake - and Dimension Doors upstairs to fight her. Terzo leaps into the orchestra pit and sings a suitable aria to inspire his friends and the crowd. The crowd, thus encouraged, rush the doors. A few get shot down, but the dotarri get trampled and the exit forced open. 
 
Ayva: Do what you’re good at, Terzo - get people out of the opera!
Terzo: RUDE.
 
The big fake Azata seals the main doors again with a wall of Ice. Happily, we have Shimza, who is notably proficient with fire. Unfortunately, another devil cast Unholy Blight into the crowd, but thankfully doesn’t kill too many people. 
Thrune DOES goes down under the Xill’s next flurry of attacks, but is not revealed as another devil. This surprises Civilla - by this point she was expecting it to be Cizmerkis, who by provoking her original attack NOW, against the wrong target, was ensuring her damnation. Although, even if it’s another fake, seeing their Lord-Mayor violently disemboweled does shock the assembled dotarri.
 
Terzo’s performance inspires the crowd again, and they start pouring out of the building. At least somebody is going to get out of here alive. Because with all the devils now focusing their attacks on the Ghosts of Kintargo, it seems quite likely that we’re not getting out ourselves.