House Lamia is a house of horrors. Though their Lord isn’t nearly the most depraved one on the Sphere, his children bear the marks of a deep corruption in their blood curse. It twists their bodies, making them monstrous and half-formed creatures from a nightmare. Their House caters to appetites, often literally, providing food, drink, and other tools of debauchery across the Sphere.
Lamia’s children are creatures filled with an endless hunger for everything. Unlike Azul’s children, sating their desires only creates more of a void, and unlike Crnobog’s children, just having isn’t enough. They pile on to their needs like flies on a corpse, leaving it picked clean when they’re done with their meals. They’re a difficult to predict, insular house, who find dealing with other Houses difficult. Often because other Houses find them physically repulsive.
The bodies of Lamia’s children vary, but almost always carry some sign of being malformed. Some get away with looking mostly human, with maybe disfigurements easily hidden underneath clothing. Others have incomplete bodies, longer, or multiple sectioned or jointed limbs. Their only consistent features are a trail of horns along the top of their skull to match their father’s, and a tail with odd-patterened spikes that ends in a sharp spade.
Derogatory terms for them are bogeymen, nightmares, freaks, and untouchables.
House Lamia controls food and drink primarily. They order the most goods from the Rifts, and they have several chains that insidiously make their way into other holdings. Liquor is a business they control, and though brands exist made and marketted by other Houses, they still end up getting sold primarily through Lamia stores. Ones that take a cut of the profits, of course. Popular sugary drinks and even water also get passed through their hands.
House Lamia’s primogenitor is a man who does nothing by small measures. If he has a guest, he hosts a banquet. If he has a border dispute, he sends an army. He has a passion for all things hedonistic, like most of his brethren, and enjoys chatting with influential people around the city in intimate settings. Through his numerous contacts, he keeps tabs on what’s happening in the city, and where he should look for his next slice of the planet’s pie.
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He stands about 7’2”. His skin is a mottled dark purple, making the bright purple of his irises stand out startly in his face. He’s build large and tough, though his physique isn’t quite as sculpted as most of the other Lords. He’s bald out of necessity, a large row of horns, starting with the largest at his forehead and getting smaller as they curve back towards his spine, making any hair he tries to grow look unnatural. He compensates by cultivating an impressive set of mutton chops, as well as a chin beard. His tail is thicker with larger scales than most other Lords, save Teivel, with a heavy spade that looks suited for bludgeoning. His wings look like a shiny oil slick that’s constantly dripping. The droplets fade into smoke the moment they hit any surface.
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His opinions on the other factions:
Azul: Pretty little creatures, though their father thinks rather highly of himself.
Abaddon: A dangerous variable. I would be happier if he was the simpleton he appears to be.
Lamia: This endless war is irritating. I am glad at least my soldiers fight in my stead so I have time to focus on other pursuits.
Crnobog: That man wouldn’t know how to have fun if it killed him. Which, one day, it shall.
Seth: My dear sister, so hungry for attention. We must not have held her enough.
Samael: A soft, beautiful deciever. I live too close to her to be fooled by the dreamer act.
Teivel: Such a proud visage, so unwilling to bend. I look forward to the day when I see it happen.
Humans: Interesting little baubles that I like to collect.
Lamia’s home incorporates visuals from Chinese architecture, though the actual shape is foreign to any known styles of construction. The multi-inclined roofs seem to begin as points, increasing slowly in size and height as they travel up tendril-like outcroppings of home until they begin to gather and pile on one another at the center. The walls are a smooth stone outside, black with cracks that look like silver veins in rock. A small gap in the odd shape at the front shows off his large front double doors, made of a dark wood.
The interior is, by contrast, a gothic castle. Everything is spiked and threatening looking, candelabras with trident points holding waxy candles that burn endlessly, always stylishly half-melted. Deep purple draperies are hung everywhere, gauzy and translucent, giving everything the feeling of being inside an eccentric mystic’s house. The entryway leads into a well-appointed library, off from which is a dining room with a gigantic U-shaped dining table, easily meant to host parties of 100 people and upwards. People rarely see beyond these two rooms, but there are whispers of dungeons further into the Lotus.