The Den

Somewhere deep in the EverFree, there’s a hut on the side of a hill. The hut is made of mud and straw, and the hill is ancient granite. A road leads to the hut, and the road is made of paths that wind like snakes through the forest, little animal tracks that converge like a river’s delta is spread. The road is inconsequential, the paths are only important because of their breadth. Some lead to Ponyville, some to Canterlot, some to even further reaches of Equestria, each winding a seemingly impossible trail made real. The paths, though, aren’t for the hut in the side of the hill. The hut is merely a passage, an extension of the inconsequential road. Even the hill is merely the cover, barely worth mentioning.

No, anypony that comes here isn’t looking for a hut, or a hill. They are looking for the caverns beneath, and one in particular. They aren’t looking for the winding tunnels that stretch underneath the EverFree, deep down underground into the depths. They aren’t looking for the connected Diamond Dog territories, or their riches. All those little impossible paths, that one road, the hut, and the hill all are for just one singular chamber in one singular cavern. This one particular chamber is of note, and like most things of import, it has a name.

It’s called The Den.

Light inside The Den is scarce, but present. There are rooms, tables, chairs, and couches covered in velvet, leather, and even fur and feathers. Drinks are served, cold or hot as ordered, and often the glasses are luminescent. If one were to describe The Den, one might think it merely a club, like the Frog Hop in Canterlot, or perhaps the high-class Crystal-Bit in Manehatten. But creatures don’t travel to the dangerous heart of the EverFree for expensive drinks, or the hazy atmosphere. They don’t come for the year round warm and humid air, or the occasional live music either.

They come specifically because it is the dangerous EverFree. There are only the laws of nature in the Everfree, and therefore The Den is governed by those laws. If you can’t find your pleasure in Manehatten, Canterlot, Las-Pegasus, or any other Equestrian city, it can be found in The Den, but only for a night. The Dogs that run it close The Den at dawn, and creatures have to crawl back to where they came from, often still in a drug fueled haze. More than one hung over pony has disappeared on the long trek home, perhaps taking the wrong widning path or veering off the trail and having an unlucky run in with a hydra.

But that’s for the day after, and ponies in particular don’t go to The Den to think of the day after. While in the Den, ponies don’t use bits. Bits don’t mean anything to the dogs that run it. Ponies bring other goods to trade. Gems in particular are well received, and can often net much more than they would back home. Other trade goods are exotic meats, illegal spell-books or artifacts, and lately more and more flesh.

The Den started as just another black market, run and controlled by dogs in the forest, but recently it’s become much more than a simple market place. Usually these places don’t last long, shut down by the princesses once they become known or popular, but the Den remains, immune to their scrutiny even as it’s popularity grows. Now Ponies come for fun, for a bit of excitement and adventure, hearing the rumors of debauchery and excess from their friends. And all they need to bring to indulge is a few gems, and maybe their own body.

Other creatures come as well. Diamond dogs from other packs looking for a bit of silica, young dragons looking for some fun, even griffons looking for a difficult, or illegal, cut of meat. With all the cultures clashing, the dogs had to come up with a few rules. Not laws of course, but something to reduce the number of angry griffons they had to throw out who thought they could get a flank steak from one of the regular clients. They decided to call the rules “Suggestions to avoid being dropped in the black pit” and kept them listed on a board over the entrance in all the languages they could muster

The suggestions were numbered, paw written in as needed, and at least loosely enforced.

1. Trade, don’t take.

2. NO FIGHTING <=inside or on the road!

3. Don’t damage The Den

4. Drinks cost gems, not bits.

5. Pay what you agree, or we’ll make you.<==LIMBS/MEAT!

6. Keep meat out of the club. It grosses out the ponies. Use meat-room.

7. EVERYBODY OUT AT DAWN. We don’t care where you go.

8. If you can’t handle your dose, don’t take it inside. Use dose-room.

9. DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE. <IMPORTANT!

As The Den grew in popularity, some rules had to be enforced more often, and some less often. Griffons tended to keep to the meat-room more often if that was their pleasure, and the dose room became the place to get high on anything dangerous. The dogs didn’t have to enforce these rules as much as the number of clients began to grow. However, the slew of new clients brought other problems. Ponies usually brought bits on their first trip, expecting to spend them and being disappointed. Dragons didn’t understand the concept of trade at first. Some creatures traveled far, and planned on staying through the day, either to hawk their wares or have some fun in the club.

The dogs only threw particularly egregious offenders into the pit, and rarely at that, but the threat was usually enough to keep the clients in line. Even the threat of dismemberment was really more of a threat than an actual consequence nowadays. Still, there were occasional offenders that they had to get creative with.

Take Ginger Root, for example.