The Heavenly Host

Talarius woke to darkness. He hurt all over. Every joint, every muscle, every pore seemed to ooze pain. However, none of it hurt as much as the pain in his heart, in his soul. He had failed. As his mind cleared, the events of the day before came rushing back in. He had failed Tiernon. He had failed the Rod. He had failed himself. His hubris had been his downfall.

He should have been more thorough in dispatching the damn demon and its minions. He should not have been so lenient. The damned monster had turned the tables. It had stolen mana from his god; it had possessed priests and the members of the Rod. It had used the Holy Church of Tiernon against him, and then it had survived an impossible death stroke and destroyed a Holy Artifact of Tiernon. It had then abducted him to the Abyss.

He was now here and damned for... well, a very long time. He was not quite sure. All he knew was that his immortal soul was possibly lost. That damned clothed demon had been right. If he died here, his soul would die here. He would never...

“Stop,” the knight ordered himself aloud. He did not have time for this line of thought. He was in enemy territory. Deeper enemy territory than he had ever been in before. Furthermore, he was unarmed, or mostly unarmed. A few small blades inset into his armor, a couple of flash bombs, a Rod of Smiting along with a Rod of Holy Lightning, both also part of his armor. Like the blades, they were designed into the armor to appear as part of it. He also had a garroting wire, lock picks, two vials of healing, and three vials of holy water. But other than that, and his impenetrable armor, he was completely defenseless!

He did have his Sash of Heavenly Flight as well, under his armor, so he could fly away if he needed. He had been in too much shock to use it when he fell through the hole. That multi-limbed nightmare had grabbed him before he had invoked it. The problem, of course, was where would he fly? He had absolutely no means of extradimensional travel. No way to get home.

However, if he was going to count the sash as part of his defense, then he’d have to also count his Grefalgar’s Girdle of Grace for the agility and dexterity it provided him, as well as his Gauntlets of Grappling, and his Undergarments of Cleansing. While all useful on a crusade and okay in combat, they were not particularly offensive or defensive devices.

Of course, the Ring of Invisibility on his left hand was theoretically defensive, but hiding was always a last resort. A coward’s resort. And the pendant he wore with its mana pool did nothing in and of itself; it was just reserve mana for any of the holy rituals he might need to cast. Certainly, his Flask of Holy Refreshment with its unending supply of icy cold water could not be counted as offensive or defensive. Unless he needed to put out a fire — there seemed to be a fair amount of fire around this place.

And since demons were not undead, his bracelets were useless and thus not to be counted. He supposed the Ring of Blessing on his right hand was equally useless. Normally he used it to bless his allies. He had never tried it on himself, but it seemed just a bit self-serving to bless oneself. A Blessing of Tiernon might, however, have some negative effects on a demon. He just was not sure. It did cause problems for undead; skeletons and zombies in particular.

He shook his head and sat up. It was no use lying on the ground wallowing in his weakened state and the minimal resources he currently had at his command. He had not planned on coming, so he really had not packed. The floor of this cave was miserable for sleeping, particularly while in full plate armor, but he had been so exhausted that it had not mattered. He did have to admit that, aside from the initial discomfort, he did feel better now, after his nap. How long had he slept? Three, four hours at least.

There was a scratching noise from across the room, the sound of demon hooves on the stone. Someone was approaching. He needed to adjust his helm’s visor to see in the dark. “So, finally awake?” The Rupert demon said.

“Yes, fiend.”

The Rupert demon sighed. “I’m not a fiend. Tizzy and Boggy are fiends. I’m at least a third order, maybe a greater demon.” He actually sounded a bit whiny and defensive, almost like the young boy he had pretended to be. These demons took their deceptions to ridiculous levels, Talarius sighed to himself. Why they were continuing such nonsense when he was clearly at their mercy was a mystery.

“As you will,” Talarius acknowledged. No need to pick a fight at this point.

“I was beginning to think you’d gotten a concussion and weren’t going to ever wake up!”

Talarius frowned in the dark. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you’ve been out cold for almost a solid day. Or something like that; there’s no Fierd in the Abyss. But I’m pretty sure it’s been a full day since you fell asleep.”

A day? He had been out for twenty hours? He shook his head. Argh, headache. “You cannot be serious, demon!”