House Myrr

​

House Myrr is a spire-born dynasty famed for its obscene wealth, poisonous politics, and appetite for cruelty as entertainment. To the Myrrs, the underhive is not a place of danger — it is an arena.

This hunting season, the family has dispensed with the usual hired cutthroats and mercenary stand-ins. Instead, four of the House’s own heirs have descended into the depths. With an ego sharpened like a monofilament blade, and clad in the most advanced hunting rigs cred's can buy, they stalk their prey while their suits’ optics and auspex's transmit every moment to audiences either sipping amasec in the spire’s pleasure domes or swilling Second Best in the Hive's depths. Every kill, every gory trophy, is the subject of wagers on who will triumph — and who will be reduced to a smear on some forgotten sump-walk.

Beneath the gleaming carapace of their rigs lies the arrogance of heirs who have never been told “no.” The Myrr scions were raised in vaulted spire manors, fattened on influence, flattery, and the knowledge that lesser people exist to be used. To them, the underhive is not just a proving ground, but a stage upon which they can indulge their whims without consequence. Their duels, hunts, and executions are equal parts entertainment and performance — acts designed to impress unseen patrons in the spire above, and to remind the rabble below of exactly who holds the knife.

But the Myrrs have more in mind than mere sport. Whispers in the spire speak of a “grand finale,” a moment when the true predators of the family will join the hunt. Should the heirs make enough of an impact, the matriarch, Lady Ursa — a calculating huntress with decades of blood on her hands — will enter the fray. And if the spectacle truly reaches its peak, even Lord Darius himself may descend, a living legend whose name is spoken with awe and dread in equal measure.