On a midsummer's evening, it is in the time of the 1800s.  The time of steam locomotives, cowboys, what we know of as Native Americans, and horses and buggies.  Most of the town has shut down for the night.  The main thing about this place was that it had a wooden wall of sharpened tree trunks set all about the borders.  There were only two gates: one on the eastern end of town and one on the western, both of equal size and same number of guards.  The town seemed more like a prison, than a actual Midwestern town.  All about it was wilds.  On one side were thick forests with tall wide trees and thick brush all about, and on the other side was the wild and whooly prairie.

Because this particular town was literally on the verge of both wilds, it was called Edgewood and was a hub of sorts between the east and west, set upon one particular highway.  It wasn't on a major road, but a moderate one.  Normally a carriage would run once a month from one direction or the other, bringing in supplies and news and bringing or taking people with it.  There were also the occasional settlers looking for their fortune, or death as it may be, in the West.  Because it was somewhat out of the way, it was obscure to most Easterners' knowledge.  Basically, other than being on this highway, this town was just a mediocre place with the usual shops and the populace you would expect of such a place in this time and area.

In this town there are a couple saloons.  One in particular was larger than the rest and people from most walks of life came to this one more than the others, mainly because it was near the town square.  This particular saloon was called the Dusty Mare and the other was the Sullied Pig.  Both were just as typical as any other town having a nice collection of liquors and beer as well as having the usual Ladies of the Evening flitting about like colorful butterflies amongst the rough and rugged men.  The air hung with the smoke of cigars and pipe smoke and the room lit with hanging lanterns dangling from the ceiling.