Dushpyt—Demvora’s Soul-Drinking Dagger

“Chaotic evil. Surprisingly chatty. Will absolutely eat the last cookie (and your soul) if unattended.”

Artifact At-A-Glance

Type: Sentient dagger (thirsty)
Alignment: Chaotic Evil (with panache)
Parentage: Forged for Demvora, the Savior with a flair for catastrophe
Favorite Hobby: Demanding carnage at inopportune times
Least Favorite Hobby: Sitting quietly in a display case

Meet Dushpyt (It Will Introduce Itself Anyway)

Dushpyt is the only dagger that will neg you, narrate your mistakes, and then beg for “just one teeny-tiny sip of mortal essence, pretty please?” It’s equal parts heirloom and hostage situation. It never quite gets its way… but not for lack of screaming into your palm guard about it.

“Unsheathe me. I’m bored. Let me taste the choir.” — Dushpyt, during a funeral, probably

Features That Nobody Asked For (But You’re Getting)

Soul Siphon™: Converts arrogance, hubris, and 17% of a foe’s soul into a fizzy black mist. (Do not inhale unless you enjoy becoming your own cautionary tale.)
Drama Sense: Vibrates when anyone nearby monologues. Doubles vibration for exes.
Backseat Butchery: Real-time combat advice, mostly insults. “Parry left, you soft pear!”
Ethical Mode: Permanently disabled. The toggle is decorative.
FOMO Ward: Refuses to be left behind. Teleports into group photos.

Will It Take Over My Mind?

Only on days ending in y. Side effects include:

Compulsions to over-commit to bad plans
A sudden urge to name your wounds
“Just one more duel” at 3:07 a.m.

Pro tip: Dushpyt can’t possess you while it’s laughing. Keep it busy with slapstick and doors that say PUSH when you PULL.

Operating Instructions

Draw blade. Dushpyt will gasp, “Finally.” Ignore it.
Issue boundary: “No souls without my say-so.” It will pout. Good.
Stab problem. (Legal calls this “application of the pointy end.”)
Count to three. At “two,” Dushpyt will ask for “just a nibble.” At “three,” it will ask for Venmo. Decline.
Sheath promptly. Compliment its sheen. It thrives on validation more than vitae.

Care & Feeding

Polish: Ash + oil + one (1) empty promise. Buff counter-clockwise while humming something menacing.
Storage: Cannot be “stored,” only appeased. Place on velvet, sprinkle with theatrics.
Diet: Souls, drama, and the occasional blueberry scone (crumbs only; whole scones lead to prophecies).

Common Use-Cases

Dungeon Diplomacy: “Agree to our terms or the knife with opinions stabs next.”
Exorcism Adjacent: Sucks out the part of a ghost that’s still mad about prom.
Team Morale: Nothing unites a party like collectively telling a dagger “no.”

Frequently Screeched Questions

Q: Can Dushpyt drink my soul by accident?
A: “Accident” is doing a lot of work there. Wear gloves. Preferably blessed, bloody, or both.

Q: Does it shut up?
A: Briefly, if you let it “taste your drink.” (This is a trap. The drink is your blood.)

Q: Will it get along with my cursed sword?
A: Yes! They’ll start a podcast and forget you exist until the ad reads. Or snuggle into the hilt.

Q: Warranty?
A: 0 days, parts and labor excluded. Any attempt to return Dushpyt results in Dushpyt returning you.

Patch Notes (Dushpyt v∞.chaos)

Removed: “Mercy.” (Caused crashes.)
Added: Glittering blood overlay. (Festive but stains reality.)
Known Bug: Occasionally insists you are the sheath. Do not comply.

User Reviews

⭐☆☆☆☆ “Tried to devour the choir.”
— Sister Kalyna, choir director

“On the bright side, perfect pitch now. On the dark side, the pitch screams.”

★★★☆☆ “Good edge, terrible boundaries.”
— Anonymous Warlord

“Sturdy spine. Would not stop critiquing my grief.”

★★★★★ “Chatty, needy, iconic.”
— A certain long-haired trickster

“Asked for ‘just a sip’; got a sonnet about my eyes. Kept it.”

Legal & Ritual Disclaimers

Dushpyt is not responsible for escalated duels, summoned exes, or rampaging choirs.
By grasping the hilt, you agree to the Terms of Immediate Regret.
Do not place near mirrors; it will unionize with its reflection.

Final Notes for the Brave (or Bored)

Dushpyt demands carnage and mayhem the way a toddler demands cake: loudly, constantly, and with genuine creativity. You will almost never give it what it wants. That’s the dance. It wails. You refuse. It sulks. You live.

Carry it anyway. The world behaves when it knows the dagger is listening.