Flushed with excitement she kicked open the door of RhyDin's infamous Red Dragon Inn and strode inside. Her chin held high and her eyes alit with mischievous thrill.
A hitch, a pause, a startled look around. The place was empty' Man, she just couldn't figure this realm out. The cocky walk didn't subside just because there was no one around to witness it. In fact, it might have actually upped the strut capacity to that of a pimp walk. Oh yea, oh yea, oh yea oh yea oh yea.
She was It. She had done it! Sold her first house! And not just any old hovel, but that stupidly huge monstrosity that set on the outskirts of RhyDin proper. A total weight around her neck, she couldn't believe she had done it. And not only done it, but had a second customer lined up.
A furrow of her brow as she considered the man who spoke like a heavenly choir of angels and harps. Yea, communicating was a tad difficult, but she was determined to get past the language barrier and help the glowingly winged fellow to find his home. It was her newfound mission in life!
Hopping the bar she poured herself a good old tankard of ale. A hefty drink leaving her with a foam mustache. That couple would probably name their first child after her! She was a hero!
The estate had been perfect for them even after she had told them about the few odd little quirks that made it damn near un-sale-able in RhyDin. That odd curse that stopped all infernal and undead creatures from entering had been a helluva a pesky problem. The first time she had shown it she hadn't a clue that the curse was in effect and the smoldering smell of burnt undead had been a gruesome reminder to pay attention to those things. But, hell, that wasn't her fault, dude was walking around in broad daylight.
Dhampier or whatever my ass, she snorted. Try, toasted undead.
She'd feel a little more sympathy if the bastage hadn't decided to reveal that he had meant to eat her in one of those long-winded villainous monologues as he smoked and smoldered right outside the estate.
And the other idiosyncrasy had made the place virtually impossible to get rid of as the Estate was invisible from the air: some kind of optical illusion that made all avians think it was just another part of the landscape.
The absolutely lick-able fellow that had purchased the place had tried to explain the defense capabilities of such a place but as she had tried to explain to him, This was RhyDin. The blended blood of the general populace was as fruity and nutty as a bag of trail mix. Tipping back that tankard she offered herself a grin of epic proportions. She had done it. She was a Realtor Defined.
A hitch, a pause, a startled look around. The place was empty' Man, she just couldn't figure this realm out. The cocky walk didn't subside just because there was no one around to witness it. In fact, it might have actually upped the strut capacity to that of a pimp walk. Oh yea, oh yea, oh yea oh yea oh yea.
She was It. She had done it! Sold her first house! And not just any old hovel, but that stupidly huge monstrosity that set on the outskirts of RhyDin proper. A total weight around her neck, she couldn't believe she had done it. And not only done it, but had a second customer lined up.
A furrow of her brow as she considered the man who spoke like a heavenly choir of angels and harps. Yea, communicating was a tad difficult, but she was determined to get past the language barrier and help the glowingly winged fellow to find his home. It was her newfound mission in life!
Hopping the bar she poured herself a good old tankard of ale. A hefty drink leaving her with a foam mustache. That couple would probably name their first child after her! She was a hero!
The estate had been perfect for them even after she had told them about the few odd little quirks that made it damn near un-sale-able in RhyDin. That odd curse that stopped all infernal and undead creatures from entering had been a helluva a pesky problem. The first time she had shown it she hadn't a clue that the curse was in effect and the smoldering smell of burnt undead had been a gruesome reminder to pay attention to those things. But, hell, that wasn't her fault, dude was walking around in broad daylight.
Dhampier or whatever my ass, she snorted. Try, toasted undead.
She'd feel a little more sympathy if the bastage hadn't decided to reveal that he had meant to eat her in one of those long-winded villainous monologues as he smoked and smoldered right outside the estate.
And the other idiosyncrasy had made the place virtually impossible to get rid of as the Estate was invisible from the air: some kind of optical illusion that made all avians think it was just another part of the landscape.
The absolutely lick-able fellow that had purchased the place had tried to explain the defense capabilities of such a place but as she had tried to explain to him, This was RhyDin. The blended blood of the general populace was as fruity and nutty as a bag of trail mix. Tipping back that tankard she offered herself a grin of epic proportions. She had done it. She was a Realtor Defined.