(no subject)
Nov. 1st, 2013 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegunicentWinter winds swept down from the icy peaks of the Troll Frosts to chill the poor townsfolk beneath. Hardy people of few means, they met the wind with whatever layers of coverings they had, sound walls of hewn logs chalked in clay, and large mugs of piping hot cider.
ApplePress the township was named, if one could conceive a single tavern and thirty odd farm shares as a town. The local Lord of the Land, a 'Duke' by name of Forshire, rode through once a year with his tax man to collect half the years pressed cider in lieu of actual coin. Coin was not common enough commodity to be worth the effort of collecting from ApplePress, but the cider was exceptional, once taken back to the Duke's estate, mulled well and aged for about fifty years. By then it developed character and smoothness enough to be palatable, and profitable to sell to people for whom coin *was* common.
For the people of ApplePress, and the poor Wizard bought by said coin to service their wards and wellsprings, the cider was a necessary evil.
ApplePress the township was named, if one could conceive a single tavern and thirty odd farm shares as a town. The local Lord of the Land, a 'Duke' by name of Forshire, rode through once a year with his tax man to collect half the years pressed cider in lieu of actual coin. Coin was not common enough commodity to be worth the effort of collecting from ApplePress, but the cider was exceptional, once taken back to the Duke's estate, mulled well and aged for about fifty years. By then it developed character and smoothness enough to be palatable, and profitable to sell to people for whom coin *was* common.
For the people of ApplePress, and the poor Wizard bought by said coin to service their wards and wellsprings, the cider was a necessary evil.
