Marcus Evan Glimpses

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus had been so focused, he had completely lost track of time. Putting aside the book he had been reading, he looks into the darkness outside his window. Hard to keep track of time when it gets dark so damn early. Dark and depressing... Marcus hates Winter. It makes him feel cold and alone. His burning heart begins to beat faster within his metal chest. Getting up, the Metalflesh pockets a book of matches as he heads out to his backyard. Sitting on the cold earth, he lights a match and passes a finger through the flame as he concentrates on his connection with Fire. Flames erupt from his open palms, engulfing his hands in fiery sheaths. Spitting on the match, Marcus attempts to commune with Summer, imagining the heat of a hot, August afternoon. His concentration wavers for a moment, and Marcus strikes another match. Angry with himself, he watches the flame for a moment, truly feeling the connection to the Season before putting it out. Warmth suffuses him and the ground no longer holds him in a cold embrace. Marcus allows himself to simply relax and bask in the comforting heat of Summer and Fire.

It's getting late... close to midnight. Marcus thinks of what tomorrow has in store for him. Questions. Uncertainty. Confusion. More of the same... The Elemental liked things simple, but his life had been far from simple lately. There had been so much darkness and fear. I may have saved a scared girl just emerging from the Hedge, or I may have delivered a Loyalist into the bed of my King. Maybe that short Ogre was really trying to help us, or maybe he has his own agenda. King Crunk might pull through, or he might die. Either way, HAL and Harry had been nowhere to be seen, and Her Icy Bitchiness just stood there, doing nothing. Why? Marcus felt his anger and frustration welling up and released it into the earth by pounding it with his fiery fists. After his hands were sore enough to make him feel better, Marcus looked up into the sky. He just needs to chase the darkness away which seems to be blinding him from the truth. Summer answers his call. Afternoon sunlight floods his backyard, filling him with hope. Eyes wide, Marcus feels strong and confident, ready to face tomorrow's challenges. Hearing a confused sound from his neighbor's house, Marcus smiles as he douses his flames and heads inside his house before someone calls the Fire Department.

Rolls

Catch met for Armor of the Elements Fury
2010-01-17 07:25:18
Marcus Evan rolls 6 to DEX(3)+Wyrd(3) (10 Again)
10, 2, 4, 1, 6, 3, 8
2 successes

Catch met for Son of the Hearth
2010-01-17 07:26:00
Marcus Evan rolls 5 to Wyrd(3)+Survival(2) (10 Again)
2, 6, 6, 5, 4
failure

Catch met for Son of the Hearth
2010-01-17 07:26:49
Marcus Evan rolls 7 to Wyrd(3)+Survival(2)-1 (10 Again, WillPower)
8, 8, 3, 1, 8, 4, 8
4 successes

Catch met for Ulf's Heart
2010-01-17 07:08:12
Marcus Evan rolls 6 to STR(3)+Occult(1)+Mantle(2) (10 Again)
3, 9, 7, 2, 5, 6
1 success

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus reflects upon his time with HAL as he drives home from the library. His research under the Autumn King's guidance had awakened long-lost memories in the Metalflesh. Memories from a lifetime ago, when he had thought of himself as Liam, not Marcus. Back when he was enrolled at Sac State, he had not been as indifferent a student as most people(mostly his parents) had thought. Liam was simply a bit spoiled, and only had the drive and determination to study the subjects which he found of interest to him. While intelligent, he was a bit lazy as well, preferring to read what he wished rather than study his assigned reading. While HAL assisted Marcus in his search for answers, the Metalflesh slowly remembered how to use footnotes and bibliographies to look up related sources. Using the cited works, Marcus had found the crucial book which he had overlooked in his first search among the shelves. HAL had also provided quiet encouragement and allowed Marcus to come to his own conclusions, rather than simply giving him the answer. He had made Marcus work for it. I should have asked HAL about getting a library card...

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus pushes back from the table slightly, his stomach full almost to the point of bursting. "No more, please. That was quite good, thank you." His landlady almost never actually takes no for an answer, but thankfully, this time she relents. Bustling about, she shoos Marcus back into his chair when he attempts to help with the clearing up. The waterheater had given him some trouble, but it had agreed to work again after he asked really nicely... until the next day, that is. His Brief Glamour of Repair had fixed the old thing long enough to provide a single day of hot water, then it had crapped out again. This time, he had also called in a Favour of Fate and he hopes his repairs will be a bit more lasting. He didn't actually mind coming over to help the old girl. Marcus liked his landlady, and repaired the waterheater, the gutters, a bit of cracked plaster, and even mowed her lawn in the Summer. In return, she always fixed him dinner, and Marcus appreciated her cooking. After a few visits he even managed to turn their agreement into a Reaper's Pledge, gaining some tasty Glamour along with the free meal. Patting his stomach, he sighs contentedly and nods as she asks if he would like to play a few hands of Gin. Watching her shuffle the cards, he idly wonders if she even suspects that he knows she cheats.

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus strokes the coarse metal.

Where have you come from... where have you been...

He feels nothing from the cold shape in his hands. Is it worthy to be the crown of a King? Probably not, but it is all he has. Cast iron, yes, but Iron, none the less. Setting to work, Marcus forms the metal into the desired shape: a sunburst crown. Using his skill, he carves intricate flames into the circlet of iron, wondering at the ease with which he works the normally unyeilding metal. Anathema to his kind, it resists his fae magic, yet yields to the primitive power of muscle and bone.

"I think I can... I think I can..."

Hammering the metal, Marcus thinks about how just like most people, iron can be unyielding and stubborn. But with the right pressure, it will do whatever you want. There is a breaking point, but you can shape it in many ways as long as you keep the heat and pressure constant.

"Hmm..."

Marcus pauses in his work. He realizes a Truth. Metal. Fire. People. They are all the same. Strong, weak, warm, cold, ductile... well, mostly the same... He reflects upon how he has treated those around him. His Court. His Team. His Tools. Picking up his trusty sledgehammer, he strokes the head.

"You know what this means to me, right?"

Unexpectantly, the answer resounds in his head.

"Of course I do... we've been working on this for two days straight..."

"Let's make this our best... okay?"

"Marcus... its done."

Looking at the iron circlet, he realizes that indeed, it is done. Flames wreath the iron points of the crown, dancing an eternal Tango of fire and wrath amidst the symbols of War and Summer. It is truly fit for a King. Nodding, Marcus thanks his crafting partner.

"So, what should I call you?"

The sledgehammer is silent for a moment, before speaking to Marcus in a tone usually reserved for children with 'special needs'.

"Marcus... it's me, Murray."

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus pulls into the parking lot of the American Red Cross at 1565 Exposition Blvd. He's finally making good on an overdue promise... to a dead man. Harry had told him to learn First Aid back when he had found Emma, but the Metalflesh had been too busy to find the time. Harry's death and getting shot by that tosser of a Loyalist, Shellmane, had changed Marcus' priorities. He made time for the class.

The instructor, Kathleen is a pretty, if slightly plain-looking, thirty-something. She is friendly, and has an easy laugh, making everyone feel relaxed and at ease, despite the seriousness of the subject. She shows them basic First Aid, and observes them practicing what they are learning, including treatment of cuts, burns, punture wounds, and animal bites. However, she is silent for a moment, then gives Marcus a funny look when he asks about the proper treatment of gunshot wounds. She informs him that such an injury would definitely require a trip to the emergency room, and is beyond the scope of First Aid, but finally relents and admits that it should be treated as a puncture wound. Nodding Marcus pays special attention for the rest of the class to all references to "puncture wounds" as Kathleen continues to the section on CPR.

On the way home, Marcus feels much better about himself. The class was actually pretty interesting and unfortunately, he is quite sure that his new knowledge will be coming in handy fairly soon. In fact, he makes a mental note to speak to Sam Barkley about getting the rest of the Court trained. It was kind of nice to be in a class setting again. Just like in the old days... Most importantly, however, he feels that he finally kept his promise to Harry. And promises are not something that Marcus can afford to take lightly.

[Marcus Evan]

In the background, when he isn't paying any attention to it, it's there. Then, as soon as he concentrates and actually tries to listen, it's gone. He worries that it should bother him more than it does. Maybe he should be afraid that he might be going crazy. Marcus has heard the roar since Harry's funeral. Actually, he'd first begun hearing it before the funeral. It had started as a low hum as his metallic hand had rested upon his dead monarch's chest. The Metalflesh had thought that it was a reverberation from the pledge he had just made with his Summer Brothers to hunt down Harry's murderer. Mason Bloodnose. Loyalist scumbag. Everything had been so chaotic afterwards that he hadn't paid any mind to the faint sound. Then later, he had blamed it on the gunshots that the other Loyalist had discharged at point blank range. Shellmane. Ponce. Marcus figured that such a loud noise so close had to have screwed with his hearing. But it was still there, and had grown not louder, but stronger.

It was almost a vibration more than a sound. After Marcus tries to actively listen to it, he realizes that he hadn't actually heard anything... he had felt it. The roar of a crowd. He can't tell what the crowd is yelling, or even whether it is the sound of outrage or celebration, but he can feel the roar in his chest, burning for release. His shining, metal skin burns as well. His flesh is now always warm to the touch. He notices that the Summer heat which has always surrounded him has turned up its thermostat a notch or two. It is as if the waning of the last days of Winter has stoked the flames of his Summer Mantle. Another thought occurs to the Metalflesh. It was almost as if that crazy bastard of a King had left a vacuum that needed to be filled and Marcus' Mantle has grown to accomodate. Some part of Summer that was also a part of Harry had clung to Marcus as Wrath and Fate had bound him to his Pledge of vengeance. The thought was comforting, and Marcus felt stronger and a bit safer knowing that a piece of Harry had stuck around to look after him. Or possibly kick his ass if he did anything incredibly stupid. Also a comfort.

[Marcus Evan]

Marcus listens for any cry of alarm as they exit the burning house and make their way back to his Jeep. When he is sitting once more in the driver's seat, he allows himself to relax a bit. His wounded leg and shoulder are throbbing. The Metalflesh sends Sam Barkley a text, informing him of their success and his own poor condition. Pulling out at a normal speed, he smiles despite his pain as he glances repeatedly at the reunited father and son in the back seat. While feeling a slight pang, he is mostly filled with a sense of pride at what he has accomplished. But, knows he hadn't done it alone. His Brother, Fu, sits next to Duncan, a warm glow barely concealed beneath the stony facade he presents to the world. He notices John Gears fidget in the passenger seat next to him, trying to find a comfortable position for his long legs. He, too, shines with the knowledge that they have done a good thing... the right thing. Pulling up in front of Duncan and Lyle's home, he lets them out, taking one last, long look at the boy who had cheated Fate. Slightly embarrassed by the Snowskin's gratitude, Marcus accepts Duncan's thanks with a simple smile and nod, promising to check in on them soon. His companions notice that he does not drive off until the two are safely inside their home.

After dropping off John and Fu, Marcus heads to his own home, and takes a look at his brand new gunshot wounds. They look a lot worse than he had originally thought. He knows that this is not good. He realizes that he can't go to the hospital. He's fairly certain that they report bullet wounds to the police... He had seen something about it on the telly. What he needs is is to get his hands on some Goblin Fruit. The tone of Sam Barkley's reply to his text is surprisingly unconcerned, causing Marcus to wonder if he had been too vague with the details. The Metalflesh considers how Harry would have responded, and decides that the crazy bastard would have made him drive his sorry ass to that damn Days Inn. Then, Harry would have pulled up in that obnoxious yellow Hummer of his, and yelled at Marcus for getting shot. Turkleton would have poked and prodded, then teased and belittled Marcus the entire time. But, he also would have fixed the Elemental up the best he could. Harry would have come to Marcus' aid. He would have helped him. But Harry's dead now. After a moment of solemn reflection, Marcus decides that it is about time he started taking care of himself for a change.

Marcus puts the kettle on, then drops a couple of slices of bread into the broken toaster. Sweet talking it into working, like most of his appliances, it operates only when he asks it to... nicely. While the water boils and the bread is toasting, he changes out of his ruined clothes, donning a pair of workout shorts. Retrieving his First Aid kit and a clean towel from the bathroom, he walks back into his kitchen. Once the toast pops up, he places the slices on a plate and fixes himself a nice cup of tea. Grabbing a knife and the almost forgotten jar of blushberry preserves he had brought back from the Goblin Market, Marcus lays everything out on his kitchen table. He then takes a sip of tea, before spreading a generous amount of the restorative jam on each piece of toast. Taking another sip, Marcus steels himself, then concentrates on the metal slug in his leg, beckoning to it. Almost teasingly, it wiggles at first, then gradually works its way out of the Elemental's flesh. The pain is indescribable. He repeats the same procedure on his shoulder, then nearly collapses in a spent, sweating heap. Stuffing the bread and jam into his mouth, he washes it down with the now lukewarm tea. Lying forward on the table, Marcus feels the wounds begin to itch and tingle as the Goblin Fruit in the preserves works its magic.

After cleaning up, Marcus picks up his phone and sends a response to Sam Barkley's text. His wounds mostly healed, he had showered and was now getting dressed again. Still thinking of Harry, he examines the contents of his closet. He will need to buy a suit for the funeral. Heading out to his Jeep, Marcus realizes that they were lucky. Not, Harry, but the rest of them. They had caught Mason and found and eliminated Shellmane. Lyle had been rescued and was back with his father, safe and sound... at least for the time being. Marcus had faced the Ear twice... one of Them, and had emerged relatively unscathed. A couple of scars maybe, but even those would fade with time. Yes, he had been lucky, but he can't shake the sinking feeling that it had all been a bit too easy. Perhaps everything had been part of a greater overall plan... Or maybe he had been spending a little too much time around Sam, and the Woodblood's paranoia was beginning to rub off on him. Regardless, the gears in the Metalflesh's head keep turning and he gets the definite feeling that this is far from over. He plans to be prepared for next time, but right now, he needs to make it to the mall before Men's Wearhouse closes. Pulling out of his driveway, the road before Marcus is dark and forbidding, his way obscure and fraught with hidden dangers. Turning his headlights on, he illuminates the path he must take on his journey. Hesitating for just an instant, Marcus drives forward and enters the gloom, a source of light in the growing darkness.

[CyledyrWyllt]

After his afternoon session of research with HAL, Marcus had started coming to the public library fairly regularly. In addition to the practical, hands-on information which he found in the DIY and Home Repair sections, he had begun following the clues he had been glimpsing in the arcane symbols engraved in his shining flesh. Every so often, one of their meanings stood out to him as plainly as if he had engraved it himself... and perhaps he had. Using the same methods as when he and the Autumn King had researched the Ear's runes, the Metalflesh had begun researching his own glyphs, but they seemed to either be an amalgamation of different scripts, or to belong to a completely original, Arcadian language. Following the few similarities he had found, he is led to many different esoteric fields, the most frequent of which turn out to be different cultural interpretations of alchemy. Depending on the source, alchemy seems to include the secret of transforming lead into gold, the creation of a solvent capable of disolving anything, and even the quest for immortality. At first, Marcus is confident that his background in science will help him with the subject, but he soon finds that alchemy aligns with modern scientific thought in some ways, yet flies in the face of it in others. Adding to the confusion, some of the texts suggest that these are actually all just metaphors for an internal, or spiritual process, not a chemical one at all. Many of the books cite connections to Taoist, Masonic, Gnostic, and even Zen Buddhist thought. Marcus soon finds himself drowning in a sea of knowledge as the books pile up on his table.

So, I'm either the Count of St. Germain, the next Buddha, or... a complete nutter.

Finding too many answers to be even more frustrating than no answers, Marcus is about to give up when he spots a table of alchemical symbols in one of the first books he had found on Medieval European Alchemy. After originally giving it only a cursory look, he had abandoned it in favor of an older volume listed in its footnotes. However, as he turns the page to examine the rest of the markings, he pauses when he notices that the text divides the symbols into three categories of markings used to denote the Three Primes, the Four Elements, and the Seven Metals. Marcus' breath quickens as he recognizes the glyphs. They are not exact, but they are similar enough to be more than mere coincidence. The names are different, but the associations for Marcus are the same as the ones he had learned in Arcadia... in Her realm. Fire and Metal had taught him the secrets of the Three Primes... not sulfur, mercury, and salt... Brimstone, Bloodstone, and Ash. Brimstone served as a connection between the High and the Low, Bloodstone symbolized the omnipresent energy, or spirit, of Life, and Ash was used as the basest form of fundamental Matter. They were all used to bind less solid agents into physical form. Marcus, himself, had used them to bind a Strangled Scream into a knife or a Mother's Hate into an ornate comb. The Metalflesh had also used each of the Four Elements at his forge. Air cooled and stoked the hearth, while Earth contained the heat and provided a hard surface on which to work. Marcus had used Fire to heat the metal on which he worked, and Water to quench the glowing form and cement its shape, He was familiar with all of these concepts, he had used them for years, toiling for the Shining Lady.

I used them to create wonders... Just as she must have used them to recreate me...

He thinks back to what She had called him... Her Great Work. He smiles slightly, despite himself, but soon focuses back on his research. As he scans the list of Metals, he recognizes the alchemical descriptions given for Gold. He had learned them for a similar metal, Chrysium, which was indeed beautiful and shining, even though Marcus can no longer associate any particular color with his memories of it. Continuing down the list, Lunargent and Electrum correspond exactly with silver and copper, even though the Metalflesh seems to remember them both possessing an internal luminescence, unseen in their earthly counterparts. Mithril, Bloodstone, and Jade not only functioned as extreme equivalents of tin, mercury, and lead, but also only differed somewhat in their appearance. Mithril was lustrous and always appeared to be reflecting starlight, even under an afternoon sun or beneath a clouded night sky. Bloodstone was a viscous blackish-red liquid with all of the otherwise normal properties of a metal, however, it did have a rather unsettling tendency to whisper when it was moved about. Jade had the appearance of dull and cloudy green glass, but was still quite heavy and durable, able to be cast just like lead. The only comparison that puzzles the Metalflesh is iron. He realizes that the Others would never use something anathema to them in their own realms, but there must be a connection. Then it hits him... Adamant. Having worked innumerable weapons out of it, Marcus knew that it was more similar to a form of light-devouring steel than iron, but had all of the associations listed for iron. Most importantly, She had always seemed to treat Adamant as a distasteful necessity. Almost as if it were an unpleasant reminder of... something. Marcus ponders this as he searches his memories of the Lady.

Could it have been an unpleasant reminder of Death... or Failure?

[CyledyrWyllt]

Marcus is exhausted. He had spent the entire day doing yard work at each of his landlady's properties. He still doesn't understand how grass can grow so damn fast. After what seemed an eternity of mowing... and trimming... and watering, he had been quite pleased to find that the old girl had not only made him dinner, but had even picked up a six-pack of his favorite lager. He really didn't know what he would do without her, sometimes. He washes up and gives the obligatory compliments to the chef, before tucking into the stuffed chicken pesto with roasted potatoes. Soon enough, Marcus is on his second beer and his landlady has run out of anything concerning her neighbors worth gossiping about. After a moment of silence, he looks up to find her looking at him in her funny little way that he had come to learn means "I've got something on my mind and no one's getting any rest until I get to the bottom of it". He simply raises his eyebrows at her, feigning ignorance.

"So, Marcus... is there anyone special in you life, lately?"

Marcus is immediately suspicious. He'd recently begun to recognize when her voice became all honey and velvet... and denture cream. It meant she was up to something.

"Not really, I mean, there was someone, but..."

He just shrugs, not finishing. The wrinkled face across from him tightens for a moment before spreading into a smile. Reaching across the table, she pats his hand affectionately.

"Well, you're a good boy. Don't make that face... you are! It's just... you'd make someone really happy. I hate to see you alone."

She pauses for a moment before continuing.

"You just need to get out more, that's what... Stop spending so much of your time jabbering on with old ladies and meet more people your own age. Get out and have some fun. Go dancing. Who knows? Maybe then you'd meet some nice gal..."

As she pauses she raises an eyebrow and looks at him pointedly.

"...or some nice fella."

Marcus opens his mouth to respond, but just stops, his jaw slack. He dumbly stares at the smug, knowing look on his landlady's face as he processes what she had just said...

"Er, I'm not gay."

"It's okay, dear..."

"No, it's not..."

"Don't you listen to anyone who says that. It's perfectly alright, and I bet you there's some young fella out there just waiting to meet you."

"No, er, it's alright... but, it's just..."

She simply gives Marcus a look full of compassion and acceptance. Her emotions are so strong that he can literally taste them as he belatedly harvests the Glamour.

"... I'm not. Gay, I mean. I'm not gay."

Her face now wavers between pity and sorrow. The Metalflesh doesn't even try to gain anything from the weak emotions as he finally finds his tongue. He lets out a sigh as he begins to speak. The words come out of his mouth reluctantly, as if they are unwilling to leave their cage.

"There was someone special. Her name was Brianne. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She was smart and strong. She was perfect. But she's gone now. She left."

His landlady's face still shows some scepticism.

"Did you go after her?"

Marcus' voice begins to well up in his chest.

"No..."

"Well, why the hell not?"

Surprising even him, it explodes from his throat.

"BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T WANT ME TO, DID SHE?!"

While they are both taken aback by the heat and violence in his voice, even more shocking is the raw, naked pain that can be heard underneath.

"Sorry... I'm sorry. She didn't... want me to go after her. She didn't... want me."

He sighs again as his face loses its flush and starts to regain its normal color.

"I fancied her... quite a lot. But, at the end of the day, she really didn't give a toss about me."

Getting up, Marcus walks over to the fridge for another beer. Opening the bottle, he knocks back half of it before slumping back in his chair. As he lifts his eyes back up to his landlady's face, he suddenly wishes that she still thought he was gay... instead of a loser.

"So, no... there's no one special in my life, lately."

"Well, that's okay, too. I was just kinda hoping you might be gay. All of the other girls in my Bridge Club have a gay son, or nephew, or whatnot, and they just go on, and on, about 'All the fun they have...', and 'You won't believe what he said...', and 'I got to ride with him in their parade...'. Next thing you know, they're all talking about going out to brunch, and how it's just like 'Sex and the City'... and I just thought... I mean, I was just hoping... well, nevermind."

Although her disappointment is great, she puts on a cheerful face as she gets dessert and sets it on the table. Marcus can't help but allow the hint of a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I mean, we could still go to... er, brunch sometime, if you like."

She smiles with genuine affection as she reaches across to pat his hand once again.

"Thank you, Marcus... that's sweet. But, it just wouldn't be the same."

She cuts two generous slices of peach pie and heaps a large scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of each. As she hands one to Marcus, she catches his eye, with that funny look on her face once more.

"And, for the record... This 'Bree-Ann'... she doesn't sound all that smart to me."

[Marcus Evan]

Sweat drips off of his brow and chin as Marcus stands perched above the open bonnet of his Jeep. He chews the Big Red in his mouth so violently that a casual observer might actually think the Metalflesh holds a personal grudge against the cinnamon-flavored gum. However, the target of his frustration is, in fact, the cylinder block he is leaning over. That same casual observer might eventually come to the conclusion that Marcus is actually angry at the long crack along one side of said block. The casual observer would be wrong. The crafty Elemental knows how to repair the crack good as new. Even without fae gifts, he could simply join and weld it with his own two hands. That is not the cause of his anger. The Summer Courtier's Wrath is specifically directed at the cast iron parts used in just enough of the engine block for it to ignore his Contract with Metal. After numerous attempts with the Control clause to lift it out of the Jeep in order to repair the crack, Marcus finally admits defeat. Now he was going to need a chain and pulley... and the arms and back of a really strong friend or two wouldn't hurt either. Shaking his head, the Elemental realizes that it has turned into a bigger job than he can handle on his own. Giving it one last, long look, he observes that the offending crack is actually in the aluminum part of the cylinder block, and the mental gears in his head begin to turn. Spitting his gum into his hand, Marcus smears it over the crack as he calls upon the basic clause of his Contract of Artifice.

"Sod it. It always worked for MacGuyver..."

Satisfied that the rust bucket would at least be running for another day, Marcus exits his garage and pulls the heavy overhead door down into place. He is about to turn back toward his house for a cold beer when he notices something queer. In the fading sunlight, the door seems to ripple slightly, almost as if it were made of liquid. Reaching out a hand, the Metalflesh feels that it is indeed reassuringly solid, yet does seem to pulse slightly at his touch. Narrowing his eyes, Marcus takes a deep breath and calls upon his connection to the Wyrd. He has to know if there is an active gate right there in his own back yard. Gripping the handle, he exhales as he pulls the door back up, unsure of what he will see. The Elemental is immediately knocked off of his feet. Engulfed in an avalanche of junk, it takes Marcus a moment to extract himself from the refuse and get his feet under him once more. A huge pile of odds and ends has spilled out of his garage. Amidst the mountain of junk, the Metalflesh thinks he sees soggy, yellowed newspapers falling on top of rotting stacks of magazines, and broken patio furniture that has toppled against twisted lengths of rubber hoses which have themselves been wrapped around an old, rusted swingset. But most of what he sees, he can't even recognize... or perhaps, doesn't really want to. After simply staring at the mess for a moment, Marcus realizes that it certainly isn't going to clean itself up, so he lets out a sigh and gets to work.

"So much for watching "True Blood" tonight..."

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when Marcus finishes cleaning out his garage... or at least the space on the other side of his garage door. It had certainly housed an impressive amount of useless junk. The Metalflesh feels like he had just lived through an entire season of "Hoarders" in the last nine hours. Some of the more interesting items he found in the mountain of garbage included thirteen incomplete and mis-matched chess sets; twenty-four car batteries filled with(what looked and smelled to Marcus like) orange soda; nine doors, each a different size and color than its fellows; a truckload of scrap metal(which he intends to keep for himself, thank you very much); one hundred eleven vintage Cracker Jack prizes kept in individual boxes; twelve empty cages(which appeared to Marcus to have been torn open from the inside); an antiquated wheelbarrow filled with discarded gardening tools of both primitive and modern manufacture; three hundred sixty-five glass Coca-Cola bottles(each filled with a different type of dead insect); the single largest comic book collection he had ever seen(but unfortunately, the old, sodden pages always torn when actually touched); and thirty-two purple Crown Royal bags filled with nickles and pennies(most of which looked fake to Marcus, with their strange pictures of wheat, buffalo, and American Indian heads). Once the main room is cleared out, he leaves the other doors closed, fearing more avalanches of useless junk. However, he does find a small hatch which leads him outside, into the Hedge.

"Might as well meet the new neighbors..."

As the hatch closes seamlessly behind him, Marcus realizes that the room he has just cleaned up appears to be on the inside of a large Eucalyptus tree. Although hollow, it is still very much alive and has hard, dull grey bark with deep furrows along its trunk. Marcus recognizes it as quite similar to the Ironbark trees back in the mortal world. In addition to the rather succulent-looking goblin fruit hanging from the nearby trees, he notices that the dark, blood-red sap dripping from the tree, not only gives it a forbidding appearance, but also seems to repel many of the strange insects in this area of the Hedge. Those that do venture to taste it either get stuck in the sticky stuff, or simply drop dead as if from deadly poison. Looking around the massive trunk, Marcus calculates that the room he had just cleared out must take up most of the ground floor. Marcus' gaze starts to travel up to the high crown of the tall tree. He realizes that the other doors must lead to closets... or upstairs. Clearly impressed, Marcus is still mostly just plain exhausted. Finding the hidden latch, he opens the hatch and climbs back into the Hollow. Looking around, he realizes that it suits him just fine. He might even move his forge in here so that the neighbors stop complaining about the noise at night. Tired, but happy, he walks over to the section of wall with the archway built into it that leads to nowhere. Grasping onto the Wyrd-ness within himself once again, he opens the gate back to the normal world. Stepping through, he takes one final glance at Ironbark Hollow before pulling the door closed and locking it. Walking back inside his house, Marcus collapses onto his bed. He has a single nagging thought before sleep claims him.

I wonder whose stuff that was, anyway...

IronbarkHollow.jpg