Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

“For every spell there is an equal and opposite reaction. We call it recoil. There’s even a spell to find recoils.” said the old wizard. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Even the healing spells? The resurrection spells??” said the cleric. “I’m afraid so.”

Your multi species adventuring party walks into a tavern and orders drinks. The bartender sighs and asks "Species, age and identification?" while pulling out a register of every species that can order alcohol, their legal age of drinking, and the most commonly used types of IDs for each.

"So how did you, a healer of all things, become the most feared archmage in the continent?" "I have a medical degree, and do you know what's cancer in essence? That's right, I cast 9th level regeneration."

"You pissed off Hypnos?! The GOD OF SLEEP?!" "Please. What's he gonna do? Make me take a nap? Give me a couple nightmares?" "Are you familiar with the concept of death by exhaustion?! No? How about Rip Van fucking WINKLE?!"

The mark on one's forehead at birth identifies the god they must pray to in order to stay alive, usually by joining their local church or temple. Your mark is deemed unknown, meaning an old forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must find the old god, and restart their prayers.

A magic sword you inherited, a noble lineage you come from, and an evil king that you can fight. What's the problem? The goddess explicitly told you "You aren't my chosen one."

The king isn't mad the princess is gay, magic makes it easy for two women to produce an heir, he's mad at her choice of lover. She could have had another princess, a noble lady, a knight, heck, he'd take an adventurer or even a dragon. But her of all people? What is his daughter thinking?

When the deity offered you to be reborn into another world, you jumped on it. A new life away from the daily grind. And when it mentioned Magic, you swear your Eyes began to sparkle. Now you are a sentient Tree! Sure, you have a system and associated skills. But you are still a fucking Tree.

Dragons self domesticated a few centuries ago and you come home to find one of these scaly firespitters on your bed. But you don't own a dragon or atleast you didn't own one until now. Congratulations you have been selected by the dragon distribution system!

Math is a cognitohazard, and physics is an anomaly. We're fortunate enough that their own fake rules keep them contained within their universe, but some humans are creeping toward breaking out using "quantum mechanics" and "wormholes", overcomplicated concepts that should never have existed.