I played in a 2 year long campaign 6-12 hours every saturday.
Mysteries of Mu, sent in a seven deserts (ie seven sea's) there were sand pirates, the egyptian esque aristocracy led by the mighty and traditional pharaoh whose sole city survived atop an ancient dwarven steppe city.
My necromancer, [Quintin Laramoore[(marikbentusi.deviantart.com/art/Request-Defectio-Solis-320457666) who went slowly mad as my depression spiraled out of control. It was apparently fucking amazing to watch according to my DM.
He started out with the best of intentions. His house got burned down by adventurers.
He lost the family fortune and had to reestablish it, so he went looking for a home/adventuring.
He was a merchant, and a scholar. Not an adventurer, It showed in his habits. The typical aristocratic over spending on luxuries. He'd buy rooms for his friends, and their supplies. He always made sure he had plums. Plums in the middle of the desert no less! In the intro session the DM made passing mention of how expensive they were. From then on, my character always had one in his breast pocket or hip pouch.
He just wanted to do right by his family and friends, but his friends kept getting him in trouble.
Murdering important politicians, charming people for little reason, and otherwise disturbing the pharoahs peace.
Eventually he meets his match in the lich Brassus, who we released from his desert tomb city.
You know what, I can't. I cant tell a good story about this. I loved that character and the DM fucking killed the ending. He let another player ruin 1 1/2 years of careful diplomacy, gathering allies and blackmail by having magical schizophrenia and not letting us get sense motive checks against him. The guy worked in and out of game to blind side us.
He turned every NPC against us, soured every relation and I never got a chance to fix it. The final encounter was every NPC jacked to lv 20 with +5 weapons in a low magic setting. We were lv 12. FUCK.