Difference between revisions of "Myrios LeJean"

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=• Special Notes  •=
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=• Story: Modern Troubles For the Modern Malak  •=
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Are they demon-possessed?  A skilled Elementalist?  Want to describe their awesome powers or trademark equipment they always carry?  This is the place to do it.
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It’s a phenomenon that’s been recorded across most species in Existence. It’s something that’s featured heavily into many works of fiction; movies, books, video games, comic books, etc. It’s a thing that’s become used with such regularity that it’s become a trope with many variations across various forms of media. It’s something that’s looked on with absurdity but, with so many instances in so many different places and variations, did anyone actually consider that there was ever a grain of truth to the trope? That perhaps if they looked hard enough that they might find something of it in ancient history.
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In every place there’s an urban legend of the mysterious store that everyone’s positive wasn’t there yesterday but somehow it’s in the collective consciousness that it’s always been there. This store seems to sell most everything from the apparently useless to the decidedly ridiculous. But somehow off to the side people can catch a glimpse of the one thing that they’ve always wanted. It may not be exactly what they need, or anything that they’re capable of handling, but they’ve always wanted it.
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This place is known as The Rift. It has doors and locations spread all throughout the universe and into other dimensions. Through the innumerable mysterious looking buildings and aged doors of the building as it exists in the number of places it can be found, every door leads to the same impossibly large store. Things can be found here that defy the imagination. Various species and races, various periods in time in various lands. The odd and mysterious place opens it’s doors and holds nearly everything inside of it’s extra-dimensional space. Though there are doors to innumerable places and times that lead there, one can only exit through the door in which they entered. There is no time or dimension hopping for the average customer.
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Much like every other store in the universe there has to be a curator. There is someone who has to maintain and occupy the space. A store like this, left to its own devices can become a very sinister place indeed. The lone permanent occupant of The Rift is a man. He wears the skin and appearance of a man at the least. He’s been there since the moment that the Rift was created and he’ll likely be there until the universe blinks out of creation. Most people assume that the proprietors of such shops are simply out after some diabolical goals. Evil plots that end in a supernatural treatise on why you shouldn’t trust strange shops who just so happen to sell the one item that you want for no apparent price. This would be incorrect.
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Myrios LeJean is the being who has been in charge of the shop since it’s moment of creation. While there have been rumors and legends throughout the ages no one truly knows if he’s an angel, or a demon, both, or something else entirely. Today Myrios LeJean is a nervous man desperately cleaning his impossible store. While there have been thousands, perhaps millions of visitors to his store over the passage of time, he’d never once actually invited someone to The Rift.
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The man that most people know as DJ Malak has been a solitary and quite often lonely observer of the world for many many years. Of course in such an impossible store Time has little meaning. That’s not to say that Time isn’t an incredibly nice Lady, but that her passage doesn’t hold much weight. It has been a long time since he’s taken an interest in the affairs of humanity. In fact it has almost certainly been close to an Age since he cared to see what the humans have been up to in their world. Never, in fact, has he cared for a lone human, until very recently.
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It’s been close to a week in fact and today he had decided that he would need to fill her in on the very weirdness of his existence. For much of everyone’s comfort he takes a very casual appearance. The rumors and the stories, god damn those stories, have left the proprietor of such stores in a very poor light. Of course that Gaunt Man that ran that one store up north somewhere didn’t do much to further the image. He wasn’t sure how someone would take the news of the impossible store or it’s impossible owner.
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So he cleaned and rearranged the store in an attempt to make it look much more ordinary than it was. He would go through spurts of frantic activity before standing back and admiring his handiwork before shaking his head and going through another frantic burst of activitiy. The problem with cleaning a store like this is that the store has a mind and a personality all of its own. The store will appear precisely the way it wishes to, despite his best efforts. It’s part of the magic of the store. Myrios is simply there to give it someone to talk to. A lonely store has a habit of turning its mind to more sinister things in its boredom, and then you end up with a store much like the Gaunt man’s store, and then intrepid young horror writers blow the WHOLE thing out of proportion and suddenly there’s rumors that he trades in souls and blood contracts for items.
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Myrios cleaned and adjusted the sign by the register that he’d made a few decades before to fight precisely that image. The sign said simply “No Weapons, No Tomes of Elritch Horrors, and No Legal Documents. Prices are CLEARLY marked on all items” He was rather proud of himself for the sign. It had perhaps been one of his strokes of minor genius. He looked around the place once again before checking the watch that he’d been given in order to keep track of time in his impossible store. Time really was a kind Lady, but he was certain he’d simply been given the watch so that she could have a bit of sway in the place. Like the girlfriend stealth moving the toothbrush in. One moment you find yourself with a toothbrush, only to come home and find frilly throw pillows and dust covers all over everything. This was Time’s “toothbrush” but it was an incredibly handy toothbrush when he needed it, much like for his shows or on this evening, a date with a beautiful young doctor who he hoped wouldn’t either run screaming in terror or fall over dead from shock.
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The last was a real possibility. He wished himself luck and left the store, locking it for one of the few times in history. That was one of the fundamental rules of the strange store that happens to have everything; It’s always open at all hours for the desperate souls to trade something he needs for something he wants.
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=• SECTION TITLE GOES HERE •=
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=• A Day Off For Malak •=
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If you want to add more sections, just copy this block and change the title/text to whatever you want! But please don't edit below this line!
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Malak scratched his head as he looked down at the empty crate. He frowned and circled the crate another time or two. He even nudged it with his foot to confirm that the crate was possibly an illusion. He left the store room at the back of his shop and returned momentarily with a broom and began to poke at the crate, poke by poke sliding the crate across the floor. Dropping the broom he squatted down next to it, peering down closer at the emptiness that the crate embodied. Giving a final scoff at the sheer laziness of the crate he stood and walked into the store room itself and looked around.
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The process and the system was simple. It had stood a solid policy for Ages. Malak, always one to argue with a good policy, and perhaps even yell in the general direction of a bad one, had made his peace with this policy a long time ago. He walks down the crowded shelves, stretching up, dozens of feet into the air. Ages of various items, lost to history but not forgotten, stood on those shelves as he walked down the aisles between them. He found an old ball sticking out conspicuously from a shelf and immediately picked it up and started bouncing it in time with each footstep. “This doesn’t make up for THAT” he says, gesturing in the direction of the empty crate. Plog, Plog, Plog follows the sound of each footstep and the accompanying echo as the sound of the ball comes back to greet him.
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He walks further. He know exactly where he’s going and he scans the shelves as he makes his way to the marvelous miracle at the center of the store room. He pauses at an intersection between sections of shelves and he hangs his head and shakes it. He throws the ball at the end of a shelf at a poster seemingly taped in place. The ball whips back on the rebound, catching him in the head and knocking him off his feet onto the floor, a small bit of dust kicked up in his landing. “You really think that’s funny?” He calls out to seemingly no one in particular. The Poster depicted a harried cartoon cat hanging onto a bookshelf, surrounded by the words ‘Hang in there! There’s always tomorrow!’ in a fanciful comic font. He stood up and dusted himself off. He casually scanned around for where the ball had disappeared to. He had words for his small rubber attacker and they weren’t kind. Giving up on his search he decided to turn a corner and try down another aisle.
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The crate couldn’t be empty. It had never been empty before in all the time he’d been the shopkeeper. That was the rule. He goes to the stockroom and items would be there to stock for the day. He stocks those items and then people buy them. “That’s the way this works!”, he calls out again. He finds an old rapier and doing his best Edmond Dantes thrusts and ripostes, tossing out a hearty “HA!” every now and then. He grins and sets the sword back onto another shelf knowing that it’d be in it’s proper place most likely before he made his way back to the front. He resumes his stalking towards the end.
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What could have been minutes or hours pass as he continues walking. Time doesn’t have much to say about this part of the store room and the path has slowly become darkened. The physical shelves start to fade from view, replaced by the darkness that creeps in. It’s partially for effect but mostly to keep people from wandering further who shouldn’t be here. Several more steps, or dozens more and it comes into view. The heart of the store room, the densely contained Singularity at the heart of the store. He smiles at the bright white light that radiates only a few inches from the containment field. Wonderful technology from the cradle of creation housing the universe’s largest collection of items in one place.
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He circles the sphere, leaning in to inspect the surface. He flicks it with his finger and turns his head to hear the sound better. It makes absolutely no sound and he seems entirely satisfied with the results. He begins the walk back, finding the ball in his travels as his foot nudges it. He bends to pick it up and continue. Plog, plog, plog goes the ball as he walks back. Somewhere in the distance the sound of Concorde, Lancelot’s squire from Monty Python and the Holy Grail declare, “Message for you Sir!” moments before a paper airplane comes sailing into view. He snatches it out of the air, crushing it in his fist. “What cute bit of nonsense is this? I’m still mad at you! You know what you did!” He grudgingly un-crumples the airplane and finds a note written in incredibly flowery script inside.
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“Dear Myrios,
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I’ve taken the liberty of putting the stock out for today. I know you don’t sleep but I thought you could go out and do something. See some things for me. Bring me back some candy floss. I’ll watch the shop today. Have a day off,
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Amanda.”
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His irritation deflated almost instantly and he grinned a little bit down at the note, feeling bad for having handled it so roughly. He turns back around in the direction of the Singularity and says begrudgingly, “You’re off the hook this time, but I’m keeping my eye on you!” The rest of the day was his.
  
  

Revision as of 00:33, 16 September 2018

'Malak'
Played by: DJ Malak
DJMalak.PNG
INFORMATION

Shopkeeper/Construct, Male, Ageless

Aliases: DJ Malak
Nationality: None
Residence: The Rift
Employer: Radio Free Gaia
Function: Shopkeeper, DJ
Twitter: @RFG_Malak


It’s a phenomenon that’s been recorded across most species in Existence. It’s something that’s featured heavily into many works of fiction; movies, books, video games, comic books, etc. It’s a thing that’s become used with such regularity that it’s become a trope with many variations across various forms of media. It’s something that’s looked on with absurdity but, with so many instances in so many different places and variations, did anyone actually consider that there was ever a grain of truth to the trope? That perhaps if they looked hard enough that they might find something of it in ancient history.

In every place there’s an urban legend of the mysterious store that everyone’s positive wasn’t there yesterday but somehow it’s in the collective consciousness that it’s always been there. This store seems to sell most everything from the apparently useless to the decidedly ridiculous. But somehow off to the side people can catch a glimpse of the one thing that they’ve always wanted. It may not be exactly what they need, or anything that they’re capable of handling, but they’ve always wanted it.

This place is known as The Rift. It has doors and locations spread all throughout the universe and into other dimensions. Through the innumerable mysterious looking buildings and aged doors of the building as it exists in the number of places it can be found, every door leads to the same impossibly large store. Things can be found here that defy the imagination. Various species and races, various periods in time in various lands. The odd and mysterious place opens it’s doors and holds nearly everything inside of it’s extra-dimensional space. Though there are doors to innumerable places and times that lead there, one can only exit through the door in which they entered. There is no time or dimension hopping for the average customer.

Much like every other store in the universe there has to be a curator. There is someone who has to maintain and occupy the space. A store like this, left to its own devices can become a very sinister place indeed. The lone permanent occupant of The Rift is a man. He wears the skin and appearance of a man at the least. He’s been there since the moment that the Rift was created and he’ll likely be there until the universe blinks out of creation. Most people assume that the proprietors of such shops are simply out after some diabolical goals. Evil plots that end in a supernatural treatise on why you shouldn’t trust strange shops who just so happen to sell the one item that you want for no apparent price. This would be incorrect.

Myrios LeJean is the being who has been in charge of the shop since it’s moment of creation. While there have been rumors and legends throughout the ages no one truly knows if he’s an angel, or a demon, both, or something else entirely. He doesn’t seem to have any discernible goal other than to sell and receive goods. Unlike in the tropes, the store does accept money and you’ll find Myrios incredibly aghast when the mention of trading souls is mentioned.


Physical Description of The Rift

The outside of the shop resembles the epitome of an old-time antique shop. Dark wood borders the outside. The old-timey cubic window panes frame the well worn and loved door with the open and closed sign hanging in it. Walking inside of the shop the feeling puts people at ease with how much it resembles a shop. it's the most shop-iest shop someone's ever been in. The floorboards resemble a dark wood, well worn and spotless. Looking straight to the counter it's made of a similar dark wood and extends roughly half the length of the floorspace. There's an old timey, 40s or 50s vintage cash register on the counter, just like people would expect from a shop like this. There is also a sign placed on a stand made of aged and somewhat roughed up cardstock that reads “No Weapons, No Tomes of Elritch Horrors, and No Legal Documents. Prices are CLEARLY marked on all items”.

About half the counter space is clear until racks start to appear along with larger items placed on the counter itself. To the right of the entrance the shelves and tables start about five feet away. again filled with all sorts of things that would appear to be junk to most people. There are large, again the old wood framed cubic paned windows higher up the wall casting a pale white-blue light over the entire shop. Those windows, of course are whitish like most people would expect. You can see motes of dust floating in the god rays that shine down from the windows. There is a corner with a very comfortable looking leather chair with a side table and a table lamp on top. There's several modestly size shelves of books surrounding it. Behind the counter on a side wall is an old brown lacquered door that looks like it's been kicked or at least opened and closed with someone's foot repeatedly. it's scuffed and the finish has faded around elbow height and down around shin height. This door leads to the back room and the apartments. All of the items do, in fact have prices on the bottom of them written out in a very steady and reliable hand-writing on a small circular sticker. The prices will be more than the customer is willing to pay for them, so to further direct the customer to the item that they should be buying that day.



How did your character become part of the Secret World, and what have they been up to since then?


OOC Notes

  • No one knows really what Malak is. He's not an angel or a devil. Perhaps something entirely different or something much older.
  • No one would really know what he is as he wouldn't tell anyone.
  • He has spent much of his incredibly long life tending to the shop, only recently coming out once people have started tracking the Filth into his shop. It's hell to get out of the carpet.
  • The Shop has many storefronts in many different times and locations, but they all lead to the same location. People who enter the shop will leave the shop and return to the same location and timeframe that they entered from. No time/space traveling using the store.
  • All of this was set up to excuse the monolithic collection of music he possesses. There isn't any attempts at powergaming or RP abuse. It's just a humorous angle for the character.

RP Hooks

  • Malak's shop, The Rift, is open to anyone. The store will inevitably have what the character needs but not necessarily what they want.
  • Malak does a weekly show on Radio Free Gaia every Friday night at 6:30pm EST. He'll be there for the 3 hour show in the NYC park. It's a great time to set things up or to just come by and RP.


The following is something of a lore sheet that I've created to keep the details consistent. All of this is OOC information that would not be shared to anyone but his most trusted friends.

Lore of the Shop

THE SHOPS

The shops have existed since there was something large enough to open a storefront on and there was a need for things to buy and sell. The first things that were lost would wind up in the shops. The shops themselves are sentient beings, capable of a small range of emotions. Malak will often refer to the store in terms of "the store's having a bit of a tantrum today" or "the store's sulking". Shops can go bad. You get things like the shop from Needful Things. The store often directs the personality of the Shopkeeper and not the other way around. Things like Needful Things happen when the shopkeeper ignores the shop or leaves it to its own devices for too long. Over time the store becomes more sinister which is felt more in the general ambiance of the shop rather than appearance. The shopkeeper can certainly change the appearance of the shop to a degree which would only enhance the feeling of trepidation or in the case of Malak's shop, a sense of calm ease with things.


THE STOREROOM

The shops accumulate all of the items in the universe that have been lost. This doesn't pertain to destroyed items. The back room could be considered the universe's largest hard drive. The core of the storeroom is a well-contained Singularity. There's no way the physical three dimensional universe could hold the collected items in the shop so things are compressed nearly infinitely and stored inside of the singularity. The items suffer no damage and are perfectly retrievable using technology pre-dating the first age. This same technology allows for interesting features of storage. Items are sorted in the Singularity by short descriptors and can be called into the physical space of the shop by query. Saying things like 'Music' will replace the items in the physical space to include all of recorded music, both written and recorded. No one is capable of walking into the Singularity as it's firmly and totally contained. The physical space extends roughly a quarter mile until things become darker, the lights dimmer and eventual total darkness save for the bright glow of the Singularity. It's an unnerving light as it doesn't flow out into the surrounding space but stops at the containment field. The "backroom" of the shop is an extra-dimensional space. 5th dimensional in order to contain the singularity.

People will often experience a rough couple of minutes or hours as the body's "morphic field" comes to grips with, and adjusts to the extra dimensions of the storeroom. It's much worse for normal humans as they're not as anima infused as the Bees are. Symptoms normally include nausea, dizziness and in some cases blacking out. It's not entirely impossible that some Bees won't experience this sickness. Normal Humans always will and it will normally be much worse.


THE STOREFRONTS

The Rift, as with all of the other shops, has many storefronts through out time and many locations in space. It's a simple matter to open a new storefront as it seems to happen all the time in all the stories and movies. There's no real rules aside from there needs to be physical, empty space for it to occupy and have enough time without constant eyes on the space to "slide on in there" overnight as many of the storied shops seem to do. All of these storefronts lead to the same physical space. many doors leading to the same room. People from many different time periods may end up in the store at once but when they leave they return only to the point in history and physical space that they'd entered. There's no time traveling or teleporting in The Rift. Amanda is a perfect example. She is from roughly 1866, Victorian London. If she leaves the store she will return to Victorian London. Malak is the only exception to this. He can step out into whichever storefront in whichever time or place that he wishes. It's possible for him to bring others with him through physical contact and an extreme force of will. Short jaunts are recommended as Time will get very cross after a while and there will be periods of the "storeroom sickness" that will come after a while. The further away from their native "time zone" the worse this will become until they return home. This is why He doesn't simply take Amanda out of the shop into present day and live her life, aging and experiencing modern life. There is even a Storefront in Hell but he doesn't get many customers.


THE EXTRA SPACES(THE APARTMENTS)

The back room contains not just a storeroom but a formatively blank slate that can be guided by the whims of the Shopkeeper. As the shopkeeper doesn't have a physical need for sleep, food or many of the things that Humans would need space for, a lot of these spaces would remain blank. Malak's shop as he's taken to trying out the more Human aspects of life has decided to use this space for such endeavors. The 'apartments' as I call them contain a kitchen, a dining room, a sitting room, an extra room for Amanda, a few guest rooms, a full library and a pool. At one time it also housed an entire office space as Knightsbridge Consulting once had their offices in there when they first started. The rooms are decorated very plainly as Malak doesn't have a great sense of decor. It's not something that's really occured to him so they tend to be plain but well furnished. The spaces are very similar to the description of the Tardis, being able to grow new rooms or deleting them as the Shopkeeper demands.


PROPERTIES OF THE SHOP ITSELF

The storefronts are nigh invulnerable and will only temporarily accept graffiti. Though this will certainly depend on the mentality of the store. A store that's been ignored will most likely leave the graffiti there, the outer appearance beginning to mimic the madness that is slowly taking over the shop. The inside of the shop tends to mimic the same effect as the storefronts. A well-adjusted and content store will respond more to the ideas that the shopkeeper has. The Rift exemplifies what most people expect from a shop. The Rift and Malak have a wonderful relationship and so the store will respond more to his thoughts on interior decoration. So the shop resembles the most "shop" looking shop one can imagine, because that's the concept he has in his mind.

Time doesn't pass properly in the shop either. Time doesn't pass in the shop at all. So when you leave the shop it will be an appropriate amount of time later, but inside the shop mechanical, non-magical watches will stop. This is why the shopkeepers don't simply go mad over the millenia and Ages and Malak sometimes doesn't realize how long he's actually been away. Time doesn't pass for them. Time, the personified abstract concept, while a very fine lady and has had several wonderful tea times in the shop, isn't very fond of this fact. She's tried in very small ways to insinuate the passage of time into the shop. The latest attempt was gifting Malak a watch. He keeps it in his bedroom inside of a first age display case made of 'Harmonious Crystal'. While it doesn't affect the passage of time in the shop due to the containment, a fact which further irritates Time, it does have the effect of nullifying other time altering effects while its out of containment. He finds it hilarious.


MERCHANDISE

The merchandise will differ depending on the store. The Rift offers up what the customers NEED versus what they WANT. While they may wander in wanting fame, fortune, love, resurrection of loved ones, or something similar, what they need is an entirely different thing entirely. The needs are often sometimes items like sentimental items like their grandmother's rosary that she prayed to daily and reminding someone of a happier time, an old teddy bear from their youth, and sometimes even something more esoteric like friendship or someone to talk to or things of the like. One of humanity's problems with life is thinking 'want' and 'need' are often the same thing. So while you may not walk out of the shop with the cool million that you want, you will leave better for the experience with an item cherished and needed for that moment in their lives.

Some stores, like in Needful Things will have what the customers want. This is a slippery slope that often leads to worse and worse behavior. People, if given what they want, will often care less and less. This of course has nothing to do with the prices that these sketchy shopkeepers charge. From things such as souls down to more esoteric prices like devils bargains of giving up something they love for something they want. Prized skills, first born, singing voices, and similar items are often the prices of these shopkeepers.

Shopkeepers and stories of those shopkeepers are why Malak has had to construct a sign for the Rift that says “No Weapons, No Tomes of Elritch Horrors, and No Legal Documents. Prices are CLEARLY marked on all items” And the prices are clearly marked. The prices will always be something that the person can afford.

The shop selects items to be stocked that day, knowing which customers will be coming in. Items appear in a crate near in the back, near the exit back out to the store itself. The shopkeep will stock items for the day and return others to the storeroom. There will always be something that someone needs when they enter. The beauty of extra-dimensional quasi-sentient stores with singularity driven storage rooms is that they know what's coming.


The Shopkeeper Lore

THE SHOPKEEPERS

The shopkeepers were created in the beginning. Possibly predating even angels and the other supernatural denizens. They're not really anything that fits into classification. At various stages they were most likely likened to Genies and the like. in TSW, Djinn are well represented so that wouldn't be accurate, though possibly from around the same 'before times'. The shopkeepers are most accurately referred to as Daemons, using the original term meaning pretty much any supernatural creature, be it demonic or celestial or somewhere in-between. The Shopkeepers are directly linked to their stores. They're, in reality closer to constructs than supernatural beings. They were created to tend to the shop. The shopkeepers are nigh invulnerable and effectively immortal. Not in the same way that a Bee is immortal. There's no Anima form. They're formed from the raw stuff of creation. Their body doesn't reform after a short while, it just patches up and keeps on ticking. This makes it possible to detain the shopkeep given some suitably built and most likely ancient technology. They very closely resemble the customers that they'll be dealing with. Currently they resemble humans, with all of the equivalent bits and bobs. They don't need to eat or drink but can if they choose to. They don't need to excrete as everything is broken down entirely with no waste. They are fully able of defending themselves and most seem attuned to an element. Malak is attuned to the 'Honored Flame', the fires of creation. He has impressive control over it, making containing him or any of the other Shopkeeps a difficult task.

The Shopkeepers are directly linked to the shops. The more time that the shopkeep stays away from the shop, the worse its temperment gets. The worse its temperment gets the more the shopkeep starts to fall in line with that temperment. And eventually you'll end up with something like Leland Gauntt and Needful Things. Also given this deterioration the Shopkeep can eventually be killed. Several shopkeepers were destroyed in Ages past by their negligence of their shops and the celestial might of several bands of Angels. Given the circumstances at the moment it was a necessary deed to commit.

Each shopkeep has their own personalities as they're mostly shaped by their customers, as well as the temperment of the shop. They were created without knowing much about anything else in the universe so their personalities are shaped one customer at a time. They experience emotions based on interactions and are quite unfamiliar with some of the workings of humanity. Malak seems oblivous a lot of the time but it's mostly a lack of context on his part. He learns about human interaction and society in snapshots. Person comes in, they chat for a bit, purchase something and then they leave. Malak gets a bit of information but there's not much of the context information surrounding that information. He's not stupid just lacking a lot of the social context surrounding such things. He's one of the few that have ventured out into Humanity and learned a few things.

Much like in Doctor Who there are likely legends and myths passed through the ages that Malak was involved in. For example, in the Aladdin story it wasn't a cave that Aladdin found full of wonders, it wasn't an evil sorcerer but Malak. There were no motives or even actions so much involved with Malak's involvement. The plucky young thief stole into the back room while Malak was occupied, most likely something shiny on the ground. The young thief stole into the store room and stole a first age relic from the shelves and fled. The tale turned into the current form as the young thief couldn't simply tell people that he stole an ancient artifact from some guy's store. As a sidenote, the store let him steal the item. The boy was starving, and quite frankly was not the best thief. The boy needed the item. The item wasn't a genie in a ring but simply a second age artifact that supplied basic needs for the wearer. Food, clothing. Nothing fancy, but to a boy who was starving on the streets and stole to survive it might as well have been.


THE OTHER SHOPKEEPERS

There were a total of 12 shopkeepers when everything was created. Several of them are deceased. Only a few have been revealed either through conversations or stories. The ones we have so far are:

Myrios LeJean: We all know and love Malak. His store is 'The Rift', The storefront in-game is where the House of Chalk is. Myrios is elementally linked to Fire.

Sebastian Blacke: Proprietor of The Sunken City. His first shop was in Atlantis. He's more of the dark shopkeeper, closer to Leland Gauntt. He's been described as looking "more stork than funeral director." He has a grudge with Myrios, blaming him for doing nothing when Atlantis sunk amidst the war of hubris between the other shopkeepers. He named his shop 'The Sunken City' as a dagger to stick in Myrios' side every time he sees it, to remind him of his alleged cowardice. He is elementally linked to the Void, his store reflects this in the feeling of nothingness and the dead feeling that permaeates his store.

Azina Callas (Deceased): Azina is one of the shopkeepers that were killed by daemonic hordes that were sent by one of the other shopkeepers. She was kind, and loving, and taught Myrios a lot of things about the humans. She was killed for unknown reasons, but Myrios believes it was because she was too involved with the humans. She possibly was the basis for Athena in mythology. She was wise, kind, and above all else, fearless. She died when her storefront in Carthage was sacked along with the rest of the city. He gave her bracelet to Sulwen to help keep her safe. After 'Visiting Family' it was made clear to him that at the end of the Age, this all goes away. He decides not to hoard some of his things, her bracelet being the object in question so far, to someone he wants to have it, and benefit from it. She was elementally linked to Light

Phaethon LeGrande - Proprietor of 'The Storied Altar', a lot of his details were revealed and described in 'Visiting Family' Though he's more of a creepy shopkeeper than an evil one, his Elemental link is to Darkness.

Cruxia - She's been mentioned in 'Visiting Family' but I have no details about her yet other than she was one of the first aggressors in the battle between the shopkeepers in Atlantis. She was one of them that reveled in the worship and adoration from the humans. Her elemental link is to Lightning

Mnema Mousai- She was recently revealed in 'The Present'. She looks like a 17 year old girl with a sad expression and untameable red hair. She is ultimately kind, but she chose not to interact with the humans outside of shop transactions. She doesn't understand why Myrios is getting so involved with humanity. She accepts what she is, an unknowable entity that only exists for the shop. She secretly admires Myrios for his curiosity and compassion, but is more confused, and more than a little bit concerned. She's elementally connected to Life


Miscellaneous Lore

SOMA

Soma is a Hindu ritual drink made from honey, berries and several other ingredients that are currently unknown. Soma's effects are described as

"We have drunk soma and become immortal; we have attained the light, the Gods discovered. Now what may foeman's malice do to harm us? What, O Immortal, mortal man's deception?" The drink is, by this time, distilled belief. The drink is quite rare now, fetching quite the price on the markets. It is also the only thing currently that can give Malak a buzz. The drink is intended for Gods, or to transform humans into Gods. Malak is no god and so it overcharges his system, resulting in intoxication. The drink makes his eyes glow and he exhibits all the other symptoms of alcohol intoxication. Since he doesn't sleep he doesn't pass out, per se. He will crash for anywhere from 8 to 24 hours depending on how much he's drank. Malak, himself, only has a handful of bottles of the stuff that he saves for very special occasions.


THE ESOTERICS

In the lore that I've built there are personifications of esoteric concepts in the universe. People tend to put faces to broad concepts and in a world where everything's true why shouldn't this be true as well.

Time - is a perfectly fine lady, normally adorned in a cerulean blue gown that swirls of it's own accord around her body. She will come into the shop from time to time for tea and try to enforce the passage of time on the shop. This has yet to succeed but you can't fault a girl for trying.

Death - is another fine anthropomorphic personification of the ultimate end who holds no sway inside of the shop. She's been embodied through the Ages as a woman to care for the dead in their time of transcendence. She's often seen wearing a simple black gown adorned with silver clasps and buckles. She comes by to have coffee and has some choice words to say to him from time to time on the subject of Amanda. She's tried all sorts of honeyed words to get him to give her over and accept her send but Malak just has a knack for poking things that he really rather shouldn't.

Luck - is a sassy little redhead that is probably responsible for most of the stupid things Malak has done over the years. She loves a good wager and can turn in an instant from frighteningly sweet to cruel. The two of them have made several bets over the Ages. Oddly enough she seems to favor summery attire and hats.

there are others out there but i haven't written them into anything yet. added when i make up some bullshit story about them via Malak.


It’s a phenomenon that’s been recorded across most species in Existence. It’s something that’s featured heavily into many works of fiction; movies, books, video games, comic books, etc. It’s a thing that’s become used with such regularity that it’s become a trope with many variations across various forms of media. It’s something that’s looked on with absurdity but, with so many instances in so many different places and variations, did anyone actually consider that there was ever a grain of truth to the trope? That perhaps if they looked hard enough that they might find something of it in ancient history.

In every place there’s an urban legend of the mysterious store that everyone’s positive wasn’t there yesterday but somehow it’s in the collective consciousness that it’s always been there. This store seems to sell most everything from the apparently useless to the decidedly ridiculous. But somehow off to the side people can catch a glimpse of the one thing that they’ve always wanted. It may not be exactly what they need, or anything that they’re capable of handling, but they’ve always wanted it.

This place is known as The Rift. It has doors and locations spread all throughout the universe and into other dimensions. Through the innumerable mysterious looking buildings and aged doors of the building as it exists in the number of places it can be found, every door leads to the same impossibly large store. Things can be found here that defy the imagination. Various species and races, various periods in time in various lands. The odd and mysterious place opens it’s doors and holds nearly everything inside of it’s extra-dimensional space. Though there are doors to innumerable places and times that lead there, one can only exit through the door in which they entered. There is no time or dimension hopping for the average customer.

Much like every other store in the universe there has to be a curator. There is someone who has to maintain and occupy the space. A store like this, left to its own devices can become a very sinister place indeed. The lone permanent occupant of The Rift is a man. He wears the skin and appearance of a man at the least. He’s been there since the moment that the Rift was created and he’ll likely be there until the universe blinks out of creation. Most people assume that the proprietors of such shops are simply out after some diabolical goals. Evil plots that end in a supernatural treatise on why you shouldn’t trust strange shops who just so happen to sell the one item that you want for no apparent price. This would be incorrect.

Myrios LeJean is the being who has been in charge of the shop since it’s moment of creation. While there have been rumors and legends throughout the ages no one truly knows if he’s an angel, or a demon, both, or something else entirely. Today Myrios LeJean is a nervous man desperately cleaning his impossible store. While there have been thousands, perhaps millions of visitors to his store over the passage of time, he’d never once actually invited someone to The Rift.

The man that most people know as DJ Malak has been a solitary and quite often lonely observer of the world for many many years. Of course in such an impossible store Time has little meaning. That’s not to say that Time isn’t an incredibly nice Lady, but that her passage doesn’t hold much weight. It has been a long time since he’s taken an interest in the affairs of humanity. In fact it has almost certainly been close to an Age since he cared to see what the humans have been up to in their world. Never, in fact, has he cared for a lone human, until very recently.

It’s been close to a week in fact and today he had decided that he would need to fill her in on the very weirdness of his existence. For much of everyone’s comfort he takes a very casual appearance. The rumors and the stories, god damn those stories, have left the proprietor of such stores in a very poor light. Of course that Gaunt Man that ran that one store up north somewhere didn’t do much to further the image. He wasn’t sure how someone would take the news of the impossible store or it’s impossible owner.

So he cleaned and rearranged the store in an attempt to make it look much more ordinary than it was. He would go through spurts of frantic activity before standing back and admiring his handiwork before shaking his head and going through another frantic burst of activitiy. The problem with cleaning a store like this is that the store has a mind and a personality all of its own. The store will appear precisely the way it wishes to, despite his best efforts. It’s part of the magic of the store. Myrios is simply there to give it someone to talk to. A lonely store has a habit of turning its mind to more sinister things in its boredom, and then you end up with a store much like the Gaunt man’s store, and then intrepid young horror writers blow the WHOLE thing out of proportion and suddenly there’s rumors that he trades in souls and blood contracts for items.

Myrios cleaned and adjusted the sign by the register that he’d made a few decades before to fight precisely that image. The sign said simply “No Weapons, No Tomes of Elritch Horrors, and No Legal Documents. Prices are CLEARLY marked on all items” He was rather proud of himself for the sign. It had perhaps been one of his strokes of minor genius. He looked around the place once again before checking the watch that he’d been given in order to keep track of time in his impossible store. Time really was a kind Lady, but he was certain he’d simply been given the watch so that she could have a bit of sway in the place. Like the girlfriend stealth moving the toothbrush in. One moment you find yourself with a toothbrush, only to come home and find frilly throw pillows and dust covers all over everything. This was Time’s “toothbrush” but it was an incredibly handy toothbrush when he needed it, much like for his shows or on this evening, a date with a beautiful young doctor who he hoped wouldn’t either run screaming in terror or fall over dead from shock.

The last was a real possibility. He wished himself luck and left the store, locking it for one of the few times in history. That was one of the fundamental rules of the strange store that happens to have everything; It’s always open at all hours for the desperate souls to trade something he needs for something he wants.



Malak scratched his head as he looked down at the empty crate. He frowned and circled the crate another time or two. He even nudged it with his foot to confirm that the crate was possibly an illusion. He left the store room at the back of his shop and returned momentarily with a broom and began to poke at the crate, poke by poke sliding the crate across the floor. Dropping the broom he squatted down next to it, peering down closer at the emptiness that the crate embodied. Giving a final scoff at the sheer laziness of the crate he stood and walked into the store room itself and looked around.

The process and the system was simple. It had stood a solid policy for Ages. Malak, always one to argue with a good policy, and perhaps even yell in the general direction of a bad one, had made his peace with this policy a long time ago. He walks down the crowded shelves, stretching up, dozens of feet into the air. Ages of various items, lost to history but not forgotten, stood on those shelves as he walked down the aisles between them. He found an old ball sticking out conspicuously from a shelf and immediately picked it up and started bouncing it in time with each footstep. “This doesn’t make up for THAT” he says, gesturing in the direction of the empty crate. Plog, Plog, Plog follows the sound of each footstep and the accompanying echo as the sound of the ball comes back to greet him.

He walks further. He know exactly where he’s going and he scans the shelves as he makes his way to the marvelous miracle at the center of the store room. He pauses at an intersection between sections of shelves and he hangs his head and shakes it. He throws the ball at the end of a shelf at a poster seemingly taped in place. The ball whips back on the rebound, catching him in the head and knocking him off his feet onto the floor, a small bit of dust kicked up in his landing. “You really think that’s funny?” He calls out to seemingly no one in particular. The Poster depicted a harried cartoon cat hanging onto a bookshelf, surrounded by the words ‘Hang in there! There’s always tomorrow!’ in a fanciful comic font. He stood up and dusted himself off. He casually scanned around for where the ball had disappeared to. He had words for his small rubber attacker and they weren’t kind. Giving up on his search he decided to turn a corner and try down another aisle.

The crate couldn’t be empty. It had never been empty before in all the time he’d been the shopkeeper. That was the rule. He goes to the stockroom and items would be there to stock for the day. He stocks those items and then people buy them. “That’s the way this works!”, he calls out again. He finds an old rapier and doing his best Edmond Dantes thrusts and ripostes, tossing out a hearty “HA!” every now and then. He grins and sets the sword back onto another shelf knowing that it’d be in it’s proper place most likely before he made his way back to the front. He resumes his stalking towards the end.

What could have been minutes or hours pass as he continues walking. Time doesn’t have much to say about this part of the store room and the path has slowly become darkened. The physical shelves start to fade from view, replaced by the darkness that creeps in. It’s partially for effect but mostly to keep people from wandering further who shouldn’t be here. Several more steps, or dozens more and it comes into view. The heart of the store room, the densely contained Singularity at the heart of the store. He smiles at the bright white light that radiates only a few inches from the containment field. Wonderful technology from the cradle of creation housing the universe’s largest collection of items in one place.

He circles the sphere, leaning in to inspect the surface. He flicks it with his finger and turns his head to hear the sound better. It makes absolutely no sound and he seems entirely satisfied with the results. He begins the walk back, finding the ball in his travels as his foot nudges it. He bends to pick it up and continue. Plog, plog, plog goes the ball as he walks back. Somewhere in the distance the sound of Concorde, Lancelot’s squire from Monty Python and the Holy Grail declare, “Message for you Sir!” moments before a paper airplane comes sailing into view. He snatches it out of the air, crushing it in his fist. “What cute bit of nonsense is this? I’m still mad at you! You know what you did!” He grudgingly un-crumples the airplane and finds a note written in incredibly flowery script inside.

“Dear Myrios, I’ve taken the liberty of putting the stock out for today. I know you don’t sleep but I thought you could go out and do something. See some things for me. Bring me back some candy floss. I’ll watch the shop today. Have a day off, Amanda.”

His irritation deflated almost instantly and he grinned a little bit down at the note, feeling bad for having handled it so roughly. He turns back around in the direction of the Singularity and says begrudgingly, “You’re off the hook this time, but I’m keeping my eye on you!” The rest of the day was his.



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