A fist-sized clot of shadows with strange visual properties.
Dorlyanic Crystal is a substance from which the ancient Dorlyans, godling-race of a distant planet, forged their mighty weapons. Weapons made from it cleave the flesh of the supernatural and the extraterrestrial like a hot knife through butter.
This thick sauce, usually a condiment on the platters of the rich, has found a niche in the equipment of thieves.
“First, I nibbled on his earlobe. Then, I bit into it, letting the red, red blood roll down his neck. Then, when he screamed and started tearing at me, I ripped the flesh from his hand. Ah, it tasted so good! Yes, yes! Then, I ripped through his jugular, and bit through his spine! Yessss…..”
An Elven artifact with no other purpose but to spread hatred and mayhem.
And Cain said “Blood of my Blood, Soul of my Soul, partaketh of the Blood of the mortals, who art like the swine and chattel of the earth.”
Long lost beneath the raging seas, the Sword holds the pure power that nobody could ever contain.
A cult's theology is binding on the god involved: it is possible for that god to believe (and see, just like Winston Smith in 1984) that other gods are mythical, or jumped-up demons, or failing older spirits, even while those gods actually exist and thrive and act in the cosmos, even while working against him.