A lonely manor stands atop of a small hill. An assortment of hedges, cut to the shape of angel in battle, seems to watch you thought there hollow eyes. The gate is unlocked and slowly wings open silently. The gothic brick work gives off a feeling soft age yet the soft stone seems not to of corroded in the British rain. A dim light echoes out of the top window as a solemn winged figure move past it. The old oak door feels warm to the touch and sports flows growing out from fresh shoots still green and full of life. The door opens slightly, it seems the owner is careless, or expecting company