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Post by Conner Kirkland-O'Connor on Jun 20, 2011 0:44:29 GMT -8
Once a bohemian paradise, Asheville of the present isn’t the ideal place your parents and grandparents probably remember. No longer do the bohemians of yester-year reside here, driven out by the War and needs to escape from the returning infrastructure not even your grandparents remember. While the railroads don’t run anymore, the mills work just fine running off of waterpower and manpower, offering a place to “work” in exchange for clothing and at least one meal a day.
If you don’t work in the mills, chances are you’re fighting the land as a farmer, making your way through life with maybe a thread-bare shirt and some farm equipment that you barely know how to use. We’re not talking the modern tractors and seeders, but a hoe and your hands. Another growing market in this small economy is the trick of brewing your own home-brew. If you make it decent enough, someone might be willing to trade a couple of spare items for a jug or two of moonshine.
Asheville’s location in the Appalachian Mountains in Western North Carolina makes it a prime spot for isolation and thieves who would love nothing more than to get their hands on goods without having to do a day’s work for them. The woods that cover the mountains add to the possible dangers of mutated animals attacking traders and caravans on their way to the city proper.
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