“ The Pcs discover an ancient, dusty oil lamp, somewhere in the bowels of a dungeon. Naturally they 'rub it', and out pops a wizened, old djinn. So far so good. Then it speaks...
'Ah at last, at last I am free! Now grant me my wish!'
When the PCs explain that they are the ones that should be granted a wish, the malignant djinn explains to them that his particular oil-lamp has a curse placed upon it. Whomsoever releases the entity inside shall be geased to grant the djinn's wish to the best of their ability.
Groans ensue from the party. The djinn rubs his wrinkled hands, grins, and proceeds to name his wish. What could it be?”
“ Little halflings are told that if they don't behave, a demon called Santa Claus from a hell of ice will kidnap them and force them to toil making toys.”
“ Mazetown stands right around the entrance to the Maze, and its whole economy depends on the people coming to visit the ever-changing and apparently sentient dungeon. They don't get all that many visitors, but the ones that do come tend to be rather generous in their spending; after all, if anything you take inside vanishes as soon as you go in, and everyone who manages to come out usually does so with fabulous treasures in tow, why not spend your coin on R&R before getting started?”