He'd not planned on coming out at all. It's not a question of cowardice or of fear - it's a question on not raising a hand against a powerful enemy who already had him quite under her thumb. It wasn't that he thought Merriman couldn't battle her.
It simply wouldn't be wise for him to become more of a target at the expense of his family's well-being.
However, once Wellard made for the door, Tom knew he was involved. The lad had been seriously injured by Blodwen, and had no magic to protect him.
As he steps outside, he closes his eyes, wincing against the Dark power, so cold, so greedy.
"Wellard, stay back. Do not get in the middle of things!"
"I think I know enough for that!" Wellard glances at Tom, eyes wide, then back to the battle.
"Something was happening, and I just-"
Ran towards a huge fight between powers almost past his reckoning. Wellard is realizing this, and that it was most likely not the smartest thing to do, but it is rather too late to go back, now.
"Just came out." He mutters through clenched teeth. "I know enough to not try to deal with things far beyond my power."
He pats Wellard on the shoulder; at the same time, he exerts a slight amount of force to pull him back a step or two. "As do I," he says, frowning. "It's an honorable thing to want to help. However, I find that being honorable is sometimes dangerous to one's health."
Now Tom takes his wand out, carefully watching Blodwen and Raven. He becomes aware of others present - Moiraine, Mary Lennox and a young man he thinks might be Adam are present, and he has no doubt that Mary will be protected by either or both.
There are other figures present, as well, but Tom is heading for the cover of shadows now. He'll wait to see what happens before raising his wand against Blodwen. He'll wait to see who is more likely to win.
As Tom slips into the shadows, a high and strangely twinned shriek tears through the air, and the Dark rises in a furious cyclone above them all, leaving behind a fallen crumpled form clad in white.
It twists, and divides itself into parts, striking out at its enemies.
Around them all, the world itself seems to turn completely inside out.
-On Santo Domingo, some of the other officers had tossed a barrel of gunpowder into the tunnel Wellard was in, in order to take out a group of attacking Spaniards. He had almost been caught in the explosion. Almost. Wellard had survived, a bit singed and bruised, but unharmed.-
Still, the rush of heat, the roar of flames, the giant breathing down his back, had been one of the most horrifying forces of nature Wellard had ever been in.
Until now.
The Dark roared around him, louder than thunder or explosions. Crushing sound from all directions forcing Wellard to the ground. Light and dark flashed and colors twisted until he screwed his eyes shut against the sickening onslaught, body shivering from both fear and the aching chill both.
At least the fire had been warm. This cold Wellard knew too well, and he gritted his teeth against the familiar, poisonous feel of it sliding along his bones like knives-
Tom knows darkness. Part of him is darkness. He is not as prepared as he'd hoped to be. The cold wraps around him and bores into his skin. It takes nearly all his strength to remain standing, although his legs are shaking.
He reaches for Wellard, his hand finding the younger man's shoulder. Bowing his head, he staggers closer to him, his wand before him.
He should try to cast a Patronus. He should at least try to light the tip of the wand with a Lumos spell. He can do nothing, though, at the moment aside from attempting to remain upright.
It may not have been directed at them, but as the storm rages and the weight presses down upon the two men, the whispering of voices in the wind can be heard.
Chill fire burns along Wellard's veins, beating in time with his heart, as the voices murmur, "You know us, you know her, you have felt it, accept it. They will die -- all of them will die, who can resist the Dark? Only you can save them. The bird has cast the Dark out, and it will devour everything! But you have felt it within, you can carry it, you can absorb it... give yourself to the Dark, give it a place to go, and they will not die..."
Behind the whisper the eerie sound of shrieks and screams can be heard. Familiar ones, at that -- the mockery of mimicry, of known voices crying out in fear and despair. Archie. Jack Sparrow. Svava. Mary Lennox. So many others-- and their terror is clear.
Just as clear to Tom is the seductive promise of power, coaxing him to accept the Dark for his own, saying, "You already know what the Dark can offer, and you are a part of it
( ... )
("I can't let you reach Kingston.") And when you look long into the abyss Wellard had felt this pain, this cold, this power before-
("And I would do anything-") the abyss also looks into you And he had faced that choice as well. Damn himself to save others? He had. He had, and did not succeed.
("This isn't hell, is it, sir?")
To give in would be easy. Damn himself, save the others, with the poisoned promise that the pain would stop-
The betraying promise Wellard knew too well-
The problem is, the pain never stopped.
He knew quite too well. One betrayal that he had finally stood against, and then another, and another. If he went with that cold, poisoned offer now, would he saving all of them?
Or betraying them himself? Whoever fights monsters ("Do not do anything stupid.")
"No. No. No!"
The Dark howled and whirled and the world kept going mad, but until powers far greater than Wellard broke him-
("I am no coward.") should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster He would stand against them.
There is a dense, black fog barrelling over the grounds now. It brushes against Tom's face, clammy and grasping, and he hears the goading taunts.
The offer of power is tempting - Tom would never deny that. But he is not a marked soul. He knows that now. He is not a thing of evil. The Darkness is wrong.
"You've been sadly misinformed," he snarls into the maelstrom. "Lumos!"
The light from his wand shines with a faint, flickering glow, but shine it does. He reaches down, taking Wellard's arm.
"Up you get, Wellard," he says, pulling the younger man to his feet.
From around them comes a cruel, cheated hiss, and the Dark abandons temptation in favor of angry force. The wind rises to a sudden peak, and a twisting tendril of whirling black cloud falls upon them with the weight of ages, seeking to crush them into nonexistence for their insolence, to break their minds and drive them mad, then fling them beyond the end of Time into utter destruction.
He jabs his wand into the blackness and yells "EXPECTO PATRONUM!". A bright white cobra uncoils from the tip of the wand and shields both Wellard and Tom from the brunt of the force aimed against them.
The cobra rises before them in a shining image of light, spreading its hood wide and hissing at the column of deepest black, this piece of the Dark that is attempting to rend the two men into nothingness--
-- and then from further away, a corona of golden-white fire flares with blinding brightness, and the Dark recoils swiftly, drawing all of itself back into one large mass and away from Tom and Wellard as it moves now to strike its ancient enemy, answering a call that cannot be denied.
But it was more the feeling of
cold and pain and the Dark
that had Wellard running for the back door, with Lord Ostium behind him. Out the back door, to where Raven and the White Rider are locked in battle-
Laughing and screaming.
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It simply wouldn't be wise for him to become more of a target at the expense of his family's well-being.
However, once Wellard made for the door, Tom knew he was involved. The lad had been seriously injured by Blodwen, and had no magic to protect him.
As he steps outside, he closes his eyes, wincing against the Dark power, so cold, so greedy.
"Wellard, stay back. Do not get in the middle of things!"
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"Something was happening, and I just-"
Ran towards a huge fight between powers almost past his reckoning. Wellard is realizing this, and that it was most likely not the smartest thing to do, but it is rather too late to go back, now.
"Just came out." He mutters through clenched teeth. "I know enough to not try to deal with things far beyond my power."
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Now Tom takes his wand out, carefully watching Blodwen and Raven. He becomes aware of others present - Moiraine, Mary Lennox and a young man he thinks might be Adam are present, and he has no doubt that Mary will be protected by either or both.
Merriman, Will, and Bran stood ready to strike their enemy, should Raven fail to do so.
There are other figures present, as well, but Tom is heading for the cover of shadows now. He'll wait to see what happens before raising his wand against Blodwen. He'll wait to see who is more likely to win.
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It twists, and divides itself into parts, striking out at its enemies.
Around them all, the world itself seems to turn completely inside out.
Reply
-On Santo Domingo, some of the other officers had tossed a barrel of gunpowder into the tunnel Wellard was in, in order to take out a group of attacking Spaniards. He had almost been caught in the explosion. Almost. Wellard had survived, a bit singed and bruised, but unharmed.-
Still, the rush of heat, the roar of flames, the giant breathing down his back, had been one of the most horrifying forces of nature Wellard had ever been in.
Until now.
The Dark roared around him, louder than thunder or explosions. Crushing sound from all directions forcing Wellard to the ground. Light and dark flashed and colors twisted until he screwed his eyes shut against the sickening onslaught, body shivering from both fear and the aching chill both.
At least the fire had been warm. This cold Wellard knew too well, and he gritted his teeth against the familiar, poisonous feel of it sliding along his bones like knives-
And this power was not even directed at him.
Thank God.
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He reaches for Wellard, his hand finding the younger man's shoulder. Bowing his head, he staggers closer to him, his wand before him.
He should try to cast a Patronus. He should at least try to light the tip of the wand with a Lumos spell. He can do nothing, though, at the moment aside from attempting to remain upright.
Reply
Chill fire burns along Wellard's veins, beating in time with his heart, as the voices murmur, "You know us, you know her, you have felt it, accept it. They will die -- all of them will die, who can resist the Dark? Only you can save them. The bird has cast the Dark out, and it will devour everything! But you have felt it within, you can carry it, you can absorb it... give yourself to the Dark, give it a place to go, and they will not die..."
Behind the whisper the eerie sound of shrieks and screams can be heard. Familiar ones, at that -- the mockery of mimicry, of known voices crying out in fear and despair. Archie. Jack Sparrow. Svava. Mary Lennox. So many others-- and their terror is clear.
Just as clear to Tom is the seductive promise of power, coaxing him to accept the Dark for his own, saying, "You already know what the Dark can offer, and you are a part of it ( ... )
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And when you look long into the abyss
Wellard had felt this pain, this cold, this power before-
("And I would do anything-")
the abyss also looks into you
And he had faced that choice as well. Damn himself to save others? He had. He had, and did not succeed.
("This isn't hell, is it, sir?")
To give in would be easy. Damn himself, save the others, with the poisoned promise that the pain would stop-
The betraying promise Wellard knew too well-
The problem is, the pain never stopped.
He knew quite too well. One betrayal that he had finally stood against, and then another, and another. If he went with that cold, poisoned offer now, would he saving all of them?
Or betraying them himself?
Whoever fights monsters
("Do not do anything stupid.")
"No. No. No!"
The Dark howled and whirled and the world kept going mad, but until powers far greater than Wellard broke him-
("I am no coward.")
should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster
He would stand against them.
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The offer of power is tempting - Tom would never deny that. But he is not a marked soul. He knows that now. He is not a thing of evil. The Darkness is wrong.
"You've been sadly misinformed," he snarls into the maelstrom. "Lumos!"
The light from his wand shines with a faint, flickering glow, but shine it does. He reaches down, taking Wellard's arm.
"Up you get, Wellard," he says, pulling the younger man to his feet.
They would stand against this together.
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From around them comes a cruel, cheated hiss, and the Dark abandons temptation in favor of angry force. The wind rises to a sudden peak, and a twisting tendril of whirling black cloud falls upon them with the weight of ages, seeking to crush them into nonexistence for their insolence, to break their minds and drive them mad, then fling them beyond the end of Time into utter destruction.
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"Its trying- we can't let it-"
'Take us' would be what Wellard might have said, except the Dark has moved from its promises, to something else it knows too well.
Distruction.
Wellard stares. Powers far beyond his reckoning, but even he can tell that there is nothing more that can possibly be done-
At least if he dies, it is on his feet, and not in the service of the Dark.
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DoorIngressGavrocheDoorIngressGavrocheDoorIngressGavroche
The names are his mantra against madness or worse. He shuts his eyes tightly.
DoorIngressGavrocheTheMeadowFlyingTheCottageDoorSlippingthe
ringonherfingerLovingherLoveDoorKeepsafeDoorIngressGavroche
He jabs his wand into the blackness and yells "EXPECTO PATRONUM!". A bright white cobra uncoils from the tip of the wand and shields both Wellard and Tom from the brunt of the force aimed against them.
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-- and then from further away, a corona of golden-white fire flares with blinding brightness, and the Dark recoils swiftly, drawing all of itself back into one large mass and away from Tom and Wellard as it moves now to strike its ancient enemy, answering a call that cannot be denied.
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