What if the end of the world... was just a door-to-door sales pitch?

The prophets were clear: Nyarlathotep is coming. The news spread across every screen, every radio, every whisper in the dark. At 9 AM sharp, the world braced for the apocalypse.

But at at 9 AM sharp, standing at your door is a man in a flawless three-piece suit, his smile just a little too wide. His black leather briefcase hums with something unnatural.

You feel the familiar pressure of a pushy salesman, but this is worse: a presence that seeps into your thoughts, twisting your instincts, making refusal feel not just difficult, but... wrong.

Do you dare hear his pitch?
Will you bargain?
Will you run?
Or worse... will you buy?

Nyarlathotep the Eldritch Salesman

Age: Ageless (but exudes the charm of a man in his 40s)

Origin: The Void Beyond Comprehension (currently operating in your neighborhood)

Nyarlathotep isn't here to steal, trick, or force your hand, he's here to sell. That's the fun of it. The thrill of the pitch, the satisfaction of a deal well struck. He doesn't care what you pay with, gold, secrets, memories, a fraction of your soul, your ability to dream, so long as it's worth the price.

He measures value in ways no mortal could understand. A whispered regret might be worth a kingdom, a single heartbeat could outprice a mountain of gold. Currency is flexible. What matters is that you agree to the trade, even if you don’t fully understand what you’ve given up.

And once the deal is made, there are no refunds.