An art-deco hotel at night in the rain. A gold neon sign reading Continental Den runs down the facade above a revolving door, where a wolf doorman in a long coat holds an umbrella.
Domus Lupi · Anno Lupae I

Pax Pawmana. Kept nightly.

The Continental Den is a hotel for furries of a certain profession, which is being a furry. On these grounds there is no drama, no callouts and no forty-post threads. Check in, settle your purrei at the desk, and leave your grievances with the coat check, where they will be folded neatly and lost.
Salvete, viatores furrei

Awoo, traveller. Awoo atque vale.

The Den was founded by Lupa, the she-wolf who raised the founders of Rome and wanted somewhere quiet afterwards. She built a lobby, hung a bell, and wrote one rule over the door: no drama on Den grounds. Two thousand years later the rule is still there, and so is the bell, which has been rung for every guest who broke it.

Guests come for the Pax Pawmana. They stay for the blankets, the concierge who never asks why you need a dinner for twelve at four in the morning, and the quiet certainty that whoever is in the next room will not start a thread about you before breakfast.

The front desk of the Den: a brass bell on a marble counter, a wall of numbered pigeonholes with brass keys, and behind the desk a red panda manager in a waistcoat, his ringed tail curled around the stool.
The front desk, where Signor Ailurus Rufus has never once been surprised.
CCXL Cubicula, all with blankets
I Rule that really matters
0 Callouts on the grounds since Anno Lupae
XII Chairs at the Mensa Alta
Regulae Domus

The house rules, in brief.

Regula I

Nulla drama in fundo

No drama on Den grounds. No callouts, no subtweets, no arguing about which avatar base is objectively correct. Leave it at the coat check.

All eight rules
Regula II

Quid pro boop

Every service is paid in purrei. Every boop is asked for first. The two are not interchangeable, whatever the guest in 1108 says.

Coin of the Den
Regula III

Pawgnus servandum est

A pawgnus, once pressed, must be honoured. Even if the favour is listening to the entire backstory of their fursona, with slides.

About the pawgnus
Lupus in fabula

Speak of the wolf, and he checks in.

The night staff say a certain guest has taken a room on the eleventh floor. Tall. Quiet. Black suit. Brought a small human on a very short walk around the lobby and tipped the bellhop four purrei. Nobody has said his name out loud. Everybody knows it.

Overheard · the bar

“He's back.”

Said by the bartender, to nobody, while polishing a glass that was already clean.

Overheard · the lift

“Someone deleted his upload.”

Said by two guests from the Mensa Alta, who then went very quiet and got off at the wrong floor.

Overheard · the desk

“Room service for one wolf, one human.”

Steak, rare. A bowl of cereal, eaten standing over the sink. A pencil.

Carpe noctem

Carpe noctem. Carpe boopem.

Your room is ready. It always was. The Den keeps one free for every guest who might need it, which is why there are two hundred and forty and the lift takes so long.