<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span style="font-size: 15px">Rain pattered upon the wooden roof of the Lying Nymph, the tavern that centered the small town of The Middle, as the ginger-haired proprietress, Rhoslyn Cadogan,  sat on a stool in her stool, a steaming cup of dark liquid in her hand. It'd been a quiet day, as many others in the past. The hunters reported their catches, and the farmers had given her their morning report on crop status, as per normal, so now she was left to entertain herself in a form of solitude. She'd first come to The Middle near a decade ago, and set up tent in the little pasture.. that led to her meeting another traveler, and another.. until she'd had a small handful of folks, who aspired to build the small encampment into something of a town.. which grew stagnant since. Only recently, had travelers begun to pass through, while they were far and few in between.  The result was a rather dull day to day of the same old handle reports and sustain the life of the village. <br/>
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A soft sigh left her lips as she shifted on the wooden stool, her ginger hair falling down her shoulder in a loose braid as the fading fire in the pit cast dancing lights on the walls around her.. why she'd chosen this life, in the end, was lost to her. However, it had it's ups. Peace and quiet.. as well as hearty meals and healthy life... though boring. She took a sip of the bitter-sweet liquid, as she entertained herself in her own mind. </span></span>​</div>