The Trading Post
As morning broke on a day with no name it brought with it a warm wind from the east, rattling the scrap-chimes and whistling through the cracks of Trading Post AB-468 Bravo or as everyone with a soul instead of a hard drive called it; Patterson's Provisions. The trading post was built into the ruin of a refueling station that held a long history of being renovated, fortified, garrisoned, blown up, infested, purified and repurposed into a humble oasis for weary travelers, merchants and mercenaries alike. Filled to the brim with old world oddities, terrible tech, and nourishing foodstuffs for the long road ahead of them to what passes for civilization in these parts.