Finally reaching the crumbling wall surrounding Draigkyn Manor, Beorn kicked open the rusty gate. It gave way with a creak and a moan. Not bothering to close it, he walked in. After all, no one would be stupid enough to think of looting here of all places.

Except for the Fangs.

Passing the gate, he had noticed tracks in the freshly fallen snow heading towards the main door of the Manor.

Looks like there are three of them.

Although confident he could take them in his sleep, it would be better if he didn't have to fight in a cramped place or be ambushed while walking in. Stopping a distance away, Beorn shouted, "I know you're inside. Get the fuck down here."

Beorn put down his pack and stretched his limbs. Satisfied he waited for a while until he saw the main doors open and the Fangs walk out with weapons in their hands.

They were an odd trio, dressed in a mismatch of leather armour and furs. The giant on the left wielded an axe bigger than Beorn's head. He was bald and his face was an ugly mash of features. He did not look particularly intelligent but more than made up for it with his enormous size and musculature that towered over Beorn's own height. He was clothed lightly despite the cold with a half-sleeve shirt stretched to near bursting and girded crosswise with leather belts studded with metal rivets. He wore spiked pads on his shoulders and leather gloves. On his lower body he was dressed in woolen breeches with leather pads protecting the knees. The skinny one on the right wielded a sword that looked at least a century old. He had mousy features, with buck teeth protruding from his upper lip. He wore a ragged cloak with many patches and a fur lining that covered his entire body. Their leader Roderik, who stood in the center, was the only one attired in proper armour. He wore a boiled leather cuirass over a long-sleeved woolen shirt dyed in black. His hands and forearms were protected with leather gauntlets that went up to his elbow. His lower body was clad in close-fitting leather trousers and knee-high leather boots. Standing a bit shorter than Beorn, Roderik held a throwing axe in each hand. The only thing their appearance shared in common was the tattoo of an inverted triangle below their left eye.

They approached Beorn stopping at a distance they thought was safe. Seeing their caution Beorn smirked.

Roderik spoke first, "We were waiting for you Beorn, we froze our asses off for weeks in that place. You're invited..."

Interrupting him Beorn laughed, "Oh, I'm invited in your mummers' show? No thank you."

"Look we're being polite here. Come along with us, it won't take much time."

"What part of no thank you don't you get?" Aleady irritated by the headache and in dire need of sleep, Beorn interrupted him, "Now I'm going to give you two choices, get out or be kicked out."

Roderik looked around and grinned, "With only you? Now be a good boy and... "

Not in the mood to listen further, he closed the distance in an instant and interrupted him with a punch to the throat. Roderick dropped his throwing-axes as he grabbed at his throat, choking. The remaining two hesitated for a moment giving Beorn enough time to kick away the throwing-axes and knee him hard in the gut. Roderik hit the ground hard.

Finally coming to their senses, they both swung at Beorn. He dodged left, looping his arm around the giant's wrist, and hooked his leg. A gentle shove with his shoulder was all it took to send the big bastard tumbling down. Still holding onto his wrist, Beorn twisted it until a sharp *crack* resounded. Picking up the dropped axe, he turned to the right.

Skinny Fang was frozen in mid-swing. Beorn started tapping the axe on his palm, unnerved he dropped his sorry excuse for a sword into the snow and raised his hands. Turning his attention back to the giant Beorn knocked him out with a swift punch to the temple.

Beorn tossed the axe away he noticed Roderik trying to drag himself to his fallen weapon. Walking towards him he asked the cowering Fang, "Why are you lot even here?"

"W-W-We were supposed to bring you somewhere...," he stammered.

Reaching Roderik, Beorn stepped on his hand as he reached for the throwing-axe and frowned at the hoarse screaming coming from near his feet. Beorn kicked Roderik in the head to shut him up and stalked towards the skinny Fang before holding him by the collars of his ratty coat and pulling him up onto his toes.

The ranger looked right into his eyes and growled, "Who's looking for me? I thought you sorry lot took orders from," he jabbed towards the unconscious Roderik with his free hand, "him."

He winced back from the horrible smell when the Fang opened his mouth, "T-T-There's this rich guy who came to us day before." He licked his lips and dodged Beorn's intense stare as he continued, "H-He said he wanted to talk to you."

'A rich guy? Who? Why'd he go to these clowns...' A hot throbbing pain interrupted his thoughts; his body reminding him about his lack of sleep. Shaking his head he set his priorities straight, 'Sleep first, check mystery man out tomorrow.'

He released Skinny Fang, the sop nearly tumbled to the ground. Looking at his sorry state, Beorn spat, "I'll come visit you lot tomorrow. Now get these idiots out of here."

The Fang stood frozen, Beorn grew even more irritated at him, "Well, what are you waiting for? Do you want me to help you?"

Noticing the look Beorn was giving him, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "N-N-No need master Beorn, I'll get out of your way as quick as possible," giving Beorn a nervous grin he approached the fallen giant before struggling under the weight of his leg. Finally managing to get under it, he pulled the giant to his unconscious leader.

Not bothering to watch any further, Beorn picked up his stuff and entered the Manor.

***

Draigkyn Manor was as big and disturbing as always. Time away from it had not increased Beorn's fondness for it and he was sure the Manor felt the same way about him.

Tall shadows were created by the light filtering through the broken windows. The grand entrance with the magnificent staircase at its was now covered with a thick layer of dust. The wind groaned through the openings with an eerie sound; setting the sheets of cloth that covered the furniture aflutter. With it came the cold and not for the first time since he started towards the Manor, Beorn wished he was back at the Hog with its warm fire and warmer company. Feeling more alone than ever he noticed a huge number of footprints imprinted in the thick dust. They seemed to cover the entire floor.

There were a lot more than just those three. What were they doing here?

A lot of the footprints were concentrated along the path heading towards the Dungeon. He tried to remember if anything valuable was stored down there, before shaking his head. The Draigkyn family had been in decline long before Arwen had taken the last of the family’s gold and the family sword along with him to Atilan.

Still, he was tempted to figure out what exactly had the Fangs interested in this abandoned place. Beorn started following the tracks before the pounding in his head reminded him of why he had bothered to climb the bloody hill all the way to the Manor in the first place. Rubbing his forehead, he headed up the staircase he sighed.

I'm sure it can wait.

The wooden staircase creaked and groaned as he made his way up the spiral. Reaching the second floor he made an effort to ignore the other doors as he made his way to the end of it. There were too many painful memories in this place, Beorn would be glad to be out as soon as possible. Reaching the end, he opened the door to his left to reveal his bedroom. A musty smell filled the place; he hadn’t been back here in ages.

The ranger didn't bother locking the door behind him, confident in the ability to wake up at the slightest disturbance. He set down his pack on a nearby chair, took off his cloak and placed it on the back of a nearby chair. He unhooked his weapons belt and slung it over the cloak before taking off his shirt as well. Looking at the fireplace he spotted a pile of extra firewood he'd kept the last time he was here. Praising his own foresight, he stuck some of the stored wood into the fireplace and set about trying to get a fire going.

Finally managing to light it, he opened a window before making his way to the huge bed that took up a quarter of the room. He pulled off the dust cover and felt the inviting softness.

Finally, a proper bed.

Ducking under the warm covers he fell asleep immediately.