Here's an idea, capitalizing on Alric's hatred of the undead:
Make almost all the GOOD guys undead.
Hear me out! In our world, one of the major aims of technological research has been increased longevity, whether through improved diet, resistance to disease, or surgical innovations. Isn't it reasonable that, if some enterprising wizard devised a way whereby the average peasant could have his body preserved indefinitely, like a Myrmidon's, everyone would jump at the chance? I'm not saying you'd do it as soon as you heard about it, but when you're pushing sixty and your body's going downhill and pretty soon you're going to look even worse than a Myrmidon, why not go for it?
Say a relatively pleasant type of undeath was invented and mass-marketed about 400 years before the scenario, and since then most of the Province's citizens have been mummifying themselves before they reach old age. By the time of the scenario, the undead would be far more numerous than the living, who might be tempted to emigrate (the smell, you know.) And a society of undead might be even more devoted to the Light than a society of living humans; lacking the needs for food, sleep, etc., all a well- educated zombie has to do all day is create art and practice science (and figure out how to provide sufficient food, clothing and health care for the more vulnerable living folks). Meanwhile, the Trow have been brought into the fold of the Light; they were already headed that way during Myth II, anyway. Alric managed to open a gate to the Fetch world back when he was still good, and now there's a thriving program of cultural exchange between the two worlds; Fetch are really quite pleasant when (a) they don't have to rip off your skin just to stay alive and (b) a mad demigod isn't demanding that they kill everyone in sight in order to avoid exile and eventual destruction.
So you've got this beautiful Trow/Fetch/Undead society, like Athens without the slaves, supported on the four pillars of Art, Science, Magic and Religion, without many living organic citizens but at peace with its organic neighbors--the Mauls, who have settled down and taken up macrame; the humanoid races, whose way of life is more physically burdensome than that of the undead but is still quiet and peaceful; the Ghols, who have very recently invented reggae and now carry nothing in their sacks but the finest primo ganja; and the Skrael, who in this time of peace are having to die in battle with squirrels, rocks and trees in order to assure their reincarnation.
And now here comes Caliban, the Leveler-possessed Alric, frothing at the mouth with hatred of all things undead (and the Fetch, too), leading an army of Myrkridia and assorted strange beasties (including all those ones whose skulls were found in the Tain). The living, carbon-based inhabitants of the West have barely a chance to fight back before Alric robs them of their wills and adds them to his forces. It's up to the more exotic champions of the Light--the Trow and the Fetch and the undead--to fight off their possessed former allies, discover what became of the Deceiver (who became known as a great public benefactor in the undead society before departing for parts unknown), crush Alric's armies and destroy him in an appropriately spectacular and poetic manner.
A hearty handshake for anyone who can figure out how to get the Mahir on the side of the Light as well.
C'mon, *someone's* got to make a scenario where you're rooting for the decaying travesties of humanity!
--SiliconDream
