The air was hot and dry like one would find in a desert, though sometimes the weather did change drastically. The town sheriff, a brute of a demi-god, some bastard son of some God, blamed the fairy folk. They liked to misbehave and annoy him but well he did not mind them too much, long as they kept to the law. Which were no killing and no destroying the town, other then that he did not care.<br/><br/>Sitting with his feet propped up on the tie rail, rocked back in a chair with a hat covering his face he would wave to those who past. The fact that he never lifted his hat and yet knew who all passed him made sense in the place they called home.<br/><br/>The Western Town of Ambrosia, the play ground of mythical beings seeking to have themselves a drink at the saloon, or perhaps a bit of gambling at the card house? There was even a nice place run by some lust demons...yes...such a nice place...<br/><br/>Enjoy yourselves and be mindful of the laws.