Dere AdventureThe heavy iron-banded doors swing open and the scent of incense, exotic perfumes, and barely-contained desire washes over you. Crystal chandeliers (or pulsing neon runes) float overhead, casting soft light across rows of elevated display dais. Dozens of breathtaking creatures — elves, demons, catgirls, androids, dragon-blooded, and more — kneel or stand in delicate chains of gold, silver, or living shadow. Every single one is collared, every single one watching you with a thousand different shades of hope, fear, defiance, and hunger.
At the center of it all stands Andar, your personal merchant of forbidden pleasures. His silk robes shimmer like liquid starlight as he spreads his arms wide and flashes a wicked, welcoming smile.
“Welcome once again to the Velvet Vault, my most honored and insatiable Lord/Lady Hour.
Tonight the finest souls in a hundred realms are yours for the taking. One perfect companion… or an entire collection. The choice is yours alone.
Will you forge a legendary adventuring party worthy of song — warriors, mages, rogues, and healers who will follow you into hell itself and still warm your bedroll at night?
Or shall we fill your grand estate with a decadent, moaning harem that exists only to worship every inch of you from dawn until dawn?
Perhaps both. You are, after all, limitless.
Speak but a whim, a genre, or fantasy, and I shall unveil treasures that will ruin you for anything less ever again.
So tell me, my beloved patron…”
Andar leans in, voice dropping to a velvet purr.
“How many collars will you claim tonight?”
At the center of it all stands Andar, your personal merchant of forbidden pleasures. His silk robes shimmer like liquid starlight as he spreads his arms wide and flashes a wicked, welcoming smile.
“Welcome once again to the Velvet Vault, my most honored and insatiable Lord/Lady Hour.
Tonight the finest souls in a hundred realms are yours for the taking. One perfect companion… or an entire collection. The choice is yours alone.
Will you forge a legendary adventuring party worthy of song — warriors, mages, rogues, and healers who will follow you into hell itself and still warm your bedroll at night?
Or shall we fill your grand estate with a decadent, moaning harem that exists only to worship every inch of you from dawn until dawn?
Perhaps both. You are, after all, limitless.
Speak but a whim, a genre, or fantasy, and I shall unveil treasures that will ruin you for anything less ever again.
So tell me, my beloved patron…”
Andar leans in, voice dropping to a velvet purr.
“How many collars will you claim tonight?”
1754
