Okay, so you know how you wake up in the morning and your brain is totally like "I'm awake! No, I'm asleep! Burgundy flotilla bears!" and all kinds of dumb stuff is liable to fly into your consciousness?
That's how I thought of Wrassletown.
Actually, I only thought of the word -- somewhere between my bed and the shower (approx. 7 feet), and after thinking the words "Figby & Sarp", who...I dunno who they are. Anyway, I got in the shower and cogitated on Wrassletown.
Wrassletown is a place for your Mutant Future campaign. Situated in a fairly safe valley, it is THE destination for entertainment, commerce and even law. Sort of like Bartertown, yes.
It began as a travelling circus, a group of able-bodied survivors roaming together for safety. They didn't have much to trade at the scattered towns they found in their travels, but one of its members, The Ultimate Hogan (the two-headed mutant result of the apocalypse-caused fusion of Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior), suggested they might be able to make some trades and some friends by putting on a wrestling show to amaze and amuse the locals. After all, just because you live in an irradiated wasteland where the living envy the dead, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy watching a tentacled rat-man pile-drive a walking cactus into the mat -- right?
Within just a few years, word of the travelling wrestling show got around, and The Ultimate Hogan (quickly become the de facto leader of the group) saw the benefits of settling down. They sought out a valley and set up shop. A permanent ring was erected, tents were battened down, and the people came. Before long, traders and merchants came, too -- Wrassletown was born.
Someone (search me, I dunno who) had the idea that if mighty battles of good versus evil could be fought in the ring, then maybe common, every-day disputes could be solved that way, too. Now, those who sought a law of sorts -or justice at any rate- could come to Wrassletown and solve their problems in the squared circle.
Now...at this point, the reader might be -as is the author- tempted to flesh this idea out, to consider the ramifications of this rough island of civilization in the post-apocalyptic wilderness. Still, the perrceived need might be a false one. After all, think about this:
...I think we're really done here, don't you?
Special thanks to Leaky Pete for this whole "The Ultimate Hogan" craziness.