Editing In Exilium (section)

==Marama of The Meadowlark breed.==
"Marama"

===Refresh=== 
* 3

===Aspects:===
* (My Name) - Moonlight shimmers in her hair and voice.
* (My Culture) - Legends and Myths are our bows and arrows
* (Purpose Bread) - We are players in other’s scrips.  
* (Love/Hate) - I fear so much for my children.


* (Other) - Grandmother Storyteller
* (Purpose Bread 2) - Inbred ‘beauty’

* (Workspace) - Abysmal Den.

===Skills===
* Great (+4): Aesthetics
* Good (+3): Knowledge, Deceit
* Fair (+2): Empathy, Connections, Rapport
* Average (+1): Leadership, Intimidation, Stealth, Lore

===Stunts===
Silvery Voice: +2 to Aesthetics having to do with Singing.
Trained Sex-worker: +1 to attempts to seduce or satisfy sexually.
Subtle Courtesan: May use Aesthetics as Rapport when acting as an entertainer.
Actor: +1 to Deceit for 'playing a role' (as opposed to hiding a fact)

===Background ===
The legends say that once the Entertainers were spirits, beings of pure story, that knew time only in the way the ocean knows of the moon. That they fought among each other not for the Takers, but for their pride, for their love, for their hate. It is said that they had great Queens who fought with the sway of time and march of bodies. That they lived in tunnels far from the sun, and went out only in night, the sun a strange and distant foe. That once they ruled over slaves of their own, feeding off their terrors and their dreams of freedom. Instead of living off the often noxious scraps of dream they were given.

But they do not know, their sages died long ago. They have long been forced to work in the hated sun, and their skin only whitens instead of burning. Their bodies have changed, no longer are they the fiery serpents that they once were, but instead they ape their masters' and their servants' forms. They sing songs not their own, and are used as toys and guard dogs. Their nests harvested to make curios and decorations. There talents chained to other's will.

The Entertainers now days look like humans with skin that tans pale, and are often beautiful but in a some what hackneyed way. They look more like stereotypes then like real humans. Almost like dolls or drawings. They once had grand kingdoms, but under the Takers were mostly kept in small incestuous groups, bred for strange and often painful or dangerous traits.

They still have a connection to dreams and stories, able to weave the senses together they were used as actors and prostitutes, and tools for certain magics, even by the unwary as personal servants and nanny's. (though the Takers considered this bad parenting, much as we might consider letting a child use a computer or a TV unsupervised bad). It is said that they used to use this as a weapon, but those skills are lost.

They still make there old nesting material, used as a sort of stiff but soft fabric, it responds to the magic of the worlds changing colors and warming slightly.

They need dreams, like a human needs vitamin c, but those dreams can also change them.

Marama is one of only older females of this race to survive, as she has her children to draw on for loyalty she is their de-facto ruler, but her second eldest eyes her position, and the unrelated ones question weather she chooses for her race, or her family.  Even all together they are the smallest group among the Exiles, as few had the chance to hear of Maas, and most died in the immediate aftermath of the Doom.

Marama's home was like pretty much another breeding center for her people. Better then many, worse then others. She trained for her role, and watched her children, teaching them what she could, knowing that most of them would be bought while still young. A few, only the best, though were kept to use as breed stock, as she had been. Singing and 'making love' for clients and her breeders, raising her children, being mated, dealing with pregnancy. Her life passed by each year much like the last, if with different faces.  And then her masters started hearing strange rumors, about a trouble maker among the slaves, called Maas.  They laughed at his words and stories. But Marama heard the tone of true Myth, and secretly, subtlety pulled everything about him she could from those she met, and just before the Doom she gambled it all, convincing the rest to try and escape as the were being transported, she lost children and lovers that day, but in her heart she thinks it worth it.  The quick death of most of her people during the Doom supports her reflected vision.  She has used those days, and the long loyalty between mother and child to build up some clout, but even for her, the urge to be a mirror, to show people what they want to see, and not what she wants to show them is *painful* to resist.