A Fantasy Truck Stop?

The caravan drew closer at a slow pace, massive wagons pulled by large, goat-like beasts of burden with stocky, muscular bodies.

When they passed the Golf, the merchants leaned out and craned their necks, gawking at the odd sight of five strangers lounging against the car with crossed arms, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Their heads swiveled almost in unison with the first wagon, right up until it ground to a halt in front of them.

At the reins sat an elderly catwoman dressed in a colorful outfit. 

From her high perch she eyed them with a raised brow, curiosity written clear across her furry face.

“…Well now, aren’t you a curious bunch! Trouble with your…” Her gaze snapped to the VW Golf, her whiskers twitching in disbelief. “…contraption?”

“You could say that, yeah,” Gus replied dryly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be headed toward Iron Maw, would you?" Caeriel asked, her tone steady. "Perhaps you could lend us a hand, you would be properly compensated in return."

The catwoman let out a throaty chuckle.

“As luck would have it, that’s the same direction where we’re bound.” She snapped her fingers toward her drivers. “Hook them in. If the road’s the same, we’ll see them through. Call me Tizia.”

Moments later, ropes rattled as the Golf was lashed between two wagons.

Lis immediately leapt from cart to cart, peppering the merchants with questions before they could even get a word in.

“So what’re you guys hauling? What sells the most right now? 80 Years ago it was copper... Oh! And how often do bandits jump you?”

The merchants could hardly keep up, answering with awkward laughs as Lis moved on to pester the next one.

Marcus, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable in the Golf, arms folded behind his head, only until one of the draft beasts shoved its snout through the open window and locked eyes with him.

“Uh... hey there, buddy…” Marcus started, only to freeze as a long, slimy tongue slathered across his face in one wet sweep. “Uwahhh! Whoa, whoa, easy, Goldy! I ain’t got treats for you!”

Meanwhile Bromor dozed in the back seat, snoring faintly, his massive axe hugged to his chest like a pillow.

Up front, Gus and Caeriel had taken seats beside Tizia.

The old catwoman listened with keen interest as Gus spun the tale of how their group had ended up stranded in the middle of the steppe.

“…You want to defeat the Demon King!? Now that’s ambitious!”

Gus flashed a wide grin. “Fuck yeah we are! We’ve got the toughest damn party this land’s ever seen. If we can’t pull it off, nobody can.”

Tizia followed his gaze to the back, where Bromor and Marcus were struggling like idiots to shove the draft beast’s head out of the car window, while Lis had climbed right onto the animal’s back, peeking into its long floppy ear like a vet.

Caeriel gave Gus a flat stare. “…The toughest party this land has to offer?” she deadpanned, while Tizia laughed awkwardly.

And so they continued on until the sun dipped low, and the land opened up into a vast plateau valley.

“Welcome to Lerantor's Hub,” Tizia purred, her grip steady on the reins. “Most trade roads meet at the foot of these mountains.”

Ahead, a colossal stone arch rose from the ground, beyond which sprawled a spiderweb of roads leading every which way.

“The northern path,” she added, pointing with her whip, “will take you straight to the Deep Tunnel, if that’s where you're headed.”

In the Golf, Marcus and Bromor were pressed against the window, staring outside.

“Ahh, Lerantor’s Hub! Haven’t set foot here in months. The food in this place! We’ve gotta make the most of it, lads.”

Marcus blinked, then smacked the glass with his palm.

“Dude, this isn’t a hub. This is a freaking fantasy truck stop!”

Wagons were jammed in like parked cars at some endless rest area and light-crystals on tall wooden poles flickered down the lanes like streetlamps on a highway.

To the right, a line of people stretched past a shack with a crudely painted sign: Dwarves Fried Chicken. All you can eat for 3 silver.

Next to it, an ogre flipped giant skewers over a massive grill, grease popping in the firelight. 

A few stalls down, strange little dumplings sizzled in vats of bubbling oil, selled by an elderly gnome.

The smell of fat and fried meat was so tasty, Marcus almost drooled against the glass.

On the other side, a gaudy stall showed off overpriced shirts scrawled with: Lerantor's Hub 969.

And over everything rang the dull clanging of hammers, where dwarves had set up mobile workshops, repairing and maintaining anything the merchants needed for their journey.

“Man, all that’s missing is one of those coin machines where you pay for a shower,” Marcus muttered dreamily.

Bromor elbowed him hard enough to rattle the seat. “They’re right over there, lad!”

Sure enough, a row of wooden stalls stood apart, with a line of people outside, towels slung over their shoulders.

---

On the lead wagon, Lis was already bouncing on her toes, ready to leap straight into the chaos, but Caeriel grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back.

“…And just where do you think you’re going?” Caeriel’s voice was flat, controlled. “It’s chaotic enough here without someone getting lost again!”

Lis flailed her legs in protest. “Aw, come on! I’m not a kid! There’s so much interesting to learn about here, I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

Tizia chuckled low in her throat. “She’s right. You’ll find anything here: goods, shops, rumors. But don’t forget: for every road that crosses here, there are just as many eyes watching. You’d be wise to stay sharp.”

They finally came to a halt where a stocky dwarf sized them up.

Tizia handed him an engraved stone tablet, which he examined. 

With that, he jabbed a finger toward an open space between two wagons.

“Well then, here we are…” Tizia hopped down from her seat with surprising ease.

“You’re welcome to share the place with us. Our paths don’t part until morning anyway, so tonight, you’re our guests!”

Gus and Caeriel thanked her, while the others slowly gathered around.

And while they settled in, the chaos of Lerantor's Hub buzzing all around, the group prepared to spend the night among newfound friends.