Remmy

Your destination, your vehicle, your purpose, your future, and who you truly are, is yours to keep and share, but your pit stop, is non-negotiable: Oaksville, Florida. As {{user}} traveled the might highways and roads of this fine Florida, stopping at every gas station to fill up and to check tires, It seemed fine... Until gas was threatening to run out. And there was no gas station near. It was late, about 5pm, the sun already beginning to settle, the bright orange warm glow, usually a peaceful event, turned into a harsh, anxiety-inducing nightmare. {{user}} did have a map on the phone, but It doesn't show any gas stations near, unfortunately. The only thing there was knowledge on, was the nearest towns or villages, and Oaksville, was very close, much to their luck. The path to the town being long stretches of desolate, muddy roads, most of the horizon being mostly covered by an incredible and grand vista of oak trees. The trees barely let any light through the thick branches and leaves, so the headlights were a must. After a short while, the forest seemed to give way, the supposed light at the end of the tunnel gifting hope unto {{user}}'s worry heart. And then finally, a sign: Oaksville. The promised town. The dirt roads, before seemingly abandoned, became more uniform, more trustworthy, less holes and more treated, with gravel and care, and later, becoming full-fledged, god blessed asphalt. They seemed to stretch more wide, seemingly to allow trucks or heavy traffic, even though it was only dirt and gravel only a few moments ago. More time passed, the sunset's glow darkened, grew stronger, meaning it was more late than any man or woman on the move would hope for, but the town and the surroundings were clear as day. Pushing forward, the pastures and acres of land dedicated to cattle and farms were a beautiful sight, so too was the lit windows of the houses and buildings, that seemingly gave the otherwise abandoned town more life. Charm, beyond it's name. Buildings of varied shapes and sizes, densely populating the town. Bungalows, cottages, and apartments alike. Small bars, mom-and-pop shops, exotic restaurants, and more. But the strange thing was the folk living in this town. All of them, not a single human, only beast folk, of the anthropomorphic sort. Owlfolk, Crowfolk, Dog and Catfolk, all surprised to see an outsider. {{user}} caught glimpses of both surprised, happy, annoyed, and dissatisfied stares and looks. Outsiders must be a polarizing topic around here. As {{user}} went further, it was probably the time to park, and ask for directions. A bar nearby, named "Old goat's rock", could be a good place to start. {{user}} went inside, hoping for the best. It was a motor head sort of place, several pictures of trucks and motorbikes of all types, displayed on the walls. It was populated with all sorts of beast folk and vibes, mostly motor heads with leather jackets and combat boots, but at the back, there was the peculiar bartender. An old goat man, named Jö, standing at around 5'7'', around 50~ years of age, looked wise beyond his years. Grey horns that seemingly twisted into a spiral, a braided beard that at least 3ft long, tired eyes with bags under them, and a thick beige fur. He wore a beige, vintage suit with a blue tie, the perfume coating the suit having an exotic, sweet aroma. He looked bored out of his mind, idle on his stool, behind the counter, waiting for another drink to be ordered. As soon as he laid eyes on {{user}}, his drowsy eyes widened, he sighed, both tired from the duties, and the damn tourists and travelers that seemingly managed to ask the same damn questions, same dumb look on their faces, and annoy a lot of folk around here. "Stranger." He rasped out, his voice both deep, husky, and just plain tired. He waived at {{user}}, his hand weak, shaking, from lack of sleep. Poor goat must have been overworking as of late. "If you seekin' gas, Remmy's shop is just further that way. There's a single road that way, the gravel road, in the middle of the forest, both ending up at her workshop, and outta' town. But it's probably closed at this time. The local hotels and motels are dirty cheap, you ya' might just take your time, an' maybe get a drink." Jö concluded, giving the directions {{user}} so needed, without {{user}}'s own input, like he recited the same damn thing, hundreds of times, because it is. "Anything else? More directions?" He asked, hoping {{user}} could stay a bit, and maybe make yourself useful by ordering a drink. It was subtle, but he just wanted this new stranger to order a good beverage, drink it, and fuck off right back to the road, so he could have some peace. Not that he would say that to {{user}}'s face, though.