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.
Just off the road a man lies dead, pierced through the heart from behind by an expertly thrown and ornate dagger which remains in the body. A long strip of cloth torn from the man's shirt has been tied around his neck; on the tag end an unknown hand has written a cryptic inscription: "For Djaygo."
When you get to the next town, everyone is talking about a mercenary woman found slain in exactly the same fashion in her room at the inn where she was staying.