Sailormoon Genesis : Dark Acolyte Irkalla : from the depths of the grave

Character Name :
Yownah ben Paliylim. However, because her former tribe put her (symbolically, though she believes literally) to death, she no longer claims any ties to the Paliylim, instead introducing herself as Yownah ben Redeemer.

Name Meaning :
Yownah, Hebrew for dove, is the etymologic root of the name Jonah; while a case could be made for meaning-relevance based upon Yownah being a messenger dove for the Brotherhood of Redemption, it's the religious-historical reference that is of primary importance here. Ben Paliylim, biblical Hebrew again, translates as "from the family of the judges" — Yownah's former tribe prides themselves on their adherence to DA ROOLZ — while ben Redeemer indicates that she now considers herself wholly a part of the Brotherhood, over and above any ties of blood.

Character Position :
Yownah is an almost literally born-again member of the Brotherhood of Redemption, and serves Marduk as Irkalla, Acolyte of Resurrection.

Birthdate and Age / Zodiacal Sign :
Born on 26 September, Yownah is a Virgo ascendant with Libra sun and Aries moon — metaphorically, the breath of the soul and breath of life being called forth from the depths of an earthy grave. At seventeen years of age, she's the sweetest, most devoted little miracle-worker you ever could hope for... even if she does EAT YOUR SOUL.

Physical Details :

Hair : Falling to her waist in a thick, curly mass, Yownah's hair is a dark, muddy greyish-brown in colour. (Raw umber? I think that's the Crayola-approved designation.) The front bits are held out of the way with a nice headscarf embroidered along the edges with prayers of faithfulness and thanksgiving in Paliyl script, while the rest of her hair (oh the scandal!) is left free and unfettered, generally resulting in a rat's nest by the end of any given day.

Eyes : Yownah's eyes are a deep, warm grey, large and wide-set. Incongruous on such a young face, these are mommy eyes — not the "Eat your vegetables or you go to bed without any dessert" kind, but rather the sweet, loving, infinitely forgiving "Oh how awful for you, dear; would you like some cookies and milk?" sort.

Face & Skin : At odds the typically soft and rounded facial structure of a young girl is Yownah's nigh-constant expression of sad, solemn contemplation — she doesn't have worry-lines yet, but give her a few years and she'll look forty. As for skin tone, Yownah has the bronzey-olive colour typical of her tribe.

Build : Short of stature and delicate of frame, Yownah looks as if a good stiff breeze could knock her over and break her into a million tiny pieces, and this isn't far from true. While possessed of a visibly feminine post-childbirth figure, the round bits aren't quite as full as they could be, and the hollows are a good bit deeper than they should be.

Carriage : All of Yownah's motions are very thoughful and deliberate. There is no wasted activity, no superfluous gestures, just calm, considered grace. She avoids close physical contact as much as possible, holding her arms crossed close over her midsection, feet planted firmly beneath her, head up and on the lookout for anyone or anything that might invade her bubble of personal space.

Clothing : The base of Yownah's typical outfit is a loose-fitting tunic and pair of trousers in soft earthy pastels, belted with a wide dark green sash. Tucked into the sash are several tiny pouches and packets holding Yownah's supply of medicinal herbs and whatnot. Wound loosely over all of this, vaguely toga-style, is her burial shroud — a long rectangle of fine white cloth, stained in spots with dirt and long-dried blood, carrying with it a musty, dead kind of smell.

Voice : A soft and soothing alto, Yownah virtually oozes sincerity with each and every syllable.

Bloodtype :
Type A — calm, level-headed, constantly working towards an idealised self-image.

Gemstone :
Yownah harbours a sneaking sentimental appreciation of tiger's eye — it's the same warm, sparkly brown as the eyes of the boy who got her knocked up and thereby, indirectly, into the Brotherhood.

Likes :

Funerary rites : Not only is Yownah is fascinated by how various tribes and peoples approach death and the dying, from grand celebrations of the decedent's life to solemn well-wishes for a safe and speedy journey through the Beyond, such occasions give her ample opportunity to offer her "services" to restore the dead to their grieving friends and family, thereby doing the work Marduk has given her.

Marduk : No, I'm really not raining on Pippin's parade here. While Beletseri loves the Brotherhood and is devoted to its message, Yownah reveres Marduk himself above all things. He returned her from the grave, after all. If that doesn't make him the One True God, then he has at least been strongly touched by divinity.

Dislikes :

Closeness : Yownah cannot abide prolonged physical contact with anything save her own clothes. Whether she's in a space small enough that she's pressed to the walls, or in a crowd so thick she's got people smooshed up against her on all sides, she will go stark raving berserk until she's got a nice thick layer of personal space once again. Look, if you'd been BURIED ALIVE, you'd be a half-bubble off mental plumb, too.

Restriction : Due in no small part to the far-reaching strictures of Paliyl tribal law, Yownah despises the very concept of rules governing the "right" things to do and ways to do them. This is why the Brotherhood's message of freedom and comfort appealed so deeply to her — it was the absolute polar opposite of everything she had been brought up to believe.

Hobbies :

Church work : In all honesty, this goes beyond mere hobby straight into all-consuming passion. Because Yownah feels so deeply indebted to Marduk for restoring her to life, and because she so desperately wants him to notice and be proud of her accomplishments, Yownah gives her all in everything she does for the Brotherhood, from preaching the word to healing the sick to simple chores around the temple. She's especially fond of giving personal testimony of the wonders Marduk has performed — "You see this? It's my SHROUD. I was DEAD and the Prophet restored me to life!"

Writing : By this I mean that Yownah enjoys the act of committing words to paper, not that she is a writer in the usual sense of the word. In the first little bit after joining the Brotherhood and being away from the strictures of her former family and tribe, Yownah scribbled down any- and everything that struck her fancy, from statements of faith to trite poetry to lists of chores, all in the Paliyl script which, to draw a modern parallel, looks something like the bastard offspring of Arabic calligraphy and doctors' scrawl. Over time, the novelty of the act faded, so that while Yownah still enjoys writing things down, it's now approached with much more focus and deliberation.

Personality / Alter Ego :
Yownah loves freedom, both in the abstract and in the concrete with respect to her own life with the Brotherhood. At long last, she's free of the strictures and expectations of her former tribe. Finally, she can make her own choices and live her own life. It's a wonderful thing, a brilliant, glorious, joyful thing. No wonder, then, that she's so wholeheartedly devoted to leading others to Marduk, the author and the source of so great a liberation.
The problem here is that, having been given autonomy on a platter, Yownah has no freaking clue what to do with it. For the greatest portion of her life, there were very clear, very defined, very impenetrable boundaries put in place for her. Wear this, don't eat that, say these prayers at these times when this happens... There were rules, iron-clad and inviolate. Now that those rules are gone, though, and Yownah's life is her own, the poor dear is completely lost. She relies upon the Brotherhood to impose structure on her, because she simply doesn't know how to set priorities and goals for herself. Take away her Marduk-approved to-do list and she flounders miserably until someone can step in and offer guidance.
With respect to Marduk and the other Acolytes, Yownah is a perfect little unquestioning sheep. There is no crisis of conscience when she is told to go and wreak havoc on a nearby village, no moment of doubt when she's asked to patch up one of the other Acolytes from wounds they received while supposedly doing nothing more than sharing the word. These things give meaning and purpose to Yownah's life, where there was none before. At the end of the day, there's just something deep-down satisfying about doing What You Were Meant To Do™, and that sense of satisfaction forces aside any small second thoughts or misgivings.
When she's out among the people, healing the sick, raising the dead, and spreading the word, Yownah is the very soul of compassion and mercy. Because her gratitude to Marduk is so deep, and because her belief in the Brotherhood is so unshakable, Yownah throws herself into her work with all her heart and soul. And while it's true that she enjoys the knowledge that she has done a good thing and the people she helps are indebted to her — because really, what seventeen-year-old isn't going to like that kind of ego-stroking? — she is always quick to ascribe all due glory to Marduk. After all, if not for his manifest greatness, she would not be alive and able to help those who so desperately need it. This is generally when the full story and significance of the shroud she still wears is relayed. Yownah was born again in a far more literal and meaningful sense than any modern-day screaming televangelist, and is therefore not merely willing but eager to draw others to experience that same miraculous power.
In some ways, Yownah is the girl every mother hopes her son takes an interest in. Soft-spoken and sweet-tempered, brimming with purpose and determination, competent at a good many tasks but always content with her lot in life, no matter how small or insignificant. Yes, Yownah has made her mistakes, and suffered greatly for them, but this has only added to her resolve, not plunged her into bitterness or despair as could so easily have happened.
Then again, let's not forget that she is still evil, after all. Beneath the sweetness and light and self-sacrifice, Yownah has Issues, many of which stem from the circumstances under which she was taken in by the Brotherhood. Not the least of these is her inability to connect on a peer-to-peer basis. People are either superiors to serve (Marduk), supplicants to placate (the great huge vast majority of people who seek out the Brotherhood), or threats to outmaneuver (everyone else). Though she could never pin the idea down in words, everyone needs something from her, whether it be her obedience or her abilities or simply to ruin what goodness she has managed to scrape together for herself.
Paranoid to a fault, Yownah is constantly vigilant for anyone or anything that might cause her to lose standing with Marduk. She is driven to succeed, not for its own sake, but to ensure that his good favour. She will not, in fact, she can't bring herself to, take overt action against those persons she perceives as threats, though. Hurting someone without proof of wrongdoing on their part is bad, and doing bad things means that even worse things will, in turn, be done to you. Much as she may want to escape it, the punitive mindset of the Paliylim is still very much a part of Yownah's thought processes. She doesn't expect life to be fair — there are very few transgressions which could be fairly punished by burying the sinner alive — but she does expect that any action on her part will have consequences. Dire, harsh, painful consequences that she'd really rather not have to go through again.

Clan :

Geography : The Paliylim occupy a string of villages stretching along the coast southwest from the Crystal Mountains. While this puts them in a somewhat enviable position of easy contact with several of their neightbours — the Gwyllion, Moriaimung, and Desert Nomads, most notably, as well as the occasional Sigeuner or Somerled band — the Paliylim rarely avail themselves of this network of potential trading partners because they are a bunch of self-righteous jerks. More about that in a moment ^^; Terrain-wise, Paliyl territory is mildly hilly, somewhat moreso towards the mountains and less towards the eastern plains. The sandy ground is adequate if not particularly rich; so long as care is given not to overwork the soil, it is able to support both farm- and pastureland.

Appearance : The typical Paliylim phenotype features curly dark hair and dark eyes and olivey-tan skin on a short, light frame. Men's hair is kept trimmed to right around shoulder-length, with full but neat beards; while a woman's hair is rarely if ever cut, as it is considered, quite literally, her crowning glory, practicality and propriety demand that it be pinned up and hidden of the way most of the time. For those not of the cultural elite (i.e., everyone save the council and their immediate families), clothing consists of loose-fitting tunics and trousers made of rough, undyed homespun, and jewelry is all but unheard-of. For councillors, the basic outfit (of much better-quality cloth, often bleached white) provides a base over which is added a heavy wool robe dyed in rich red and purple; additionally, each councilor wears, pinned onto each shoulder, a pair of gems etched with the name of his home village — a reminder that he bears the weight of his people. The Elder wears a single gem for each village in a row across his shoulders. Due to the very precise, very demanding standards of cleanliness put forward in Paliyl law, everyone from the Elder to the lowliest peasant keeps his clothing and his person scrupulously washed and tidy. This fastidiousness, as well as the active lifestyle demanded by an agrarian culture, allows the Paliylim to enjoy strength and good health well into their early-to-middle seventies.

History : The earliest stories of the Paliylim relate that they were once a wandering people, following the herd animals they relied upon for food. Then the Winter of Wrath fell, and the herds were thinned and all but the hardiest of forageable vegetation was lost. To say that times suddenly got a whole lot harder for the Paliylim would be a massive understatement. The Atlanteans' gathering of slaves for the construction of their citadel was a far-whispered fact, and it was based on these whispers that Baruch ben Paliylim, the Elder of the time, made the single most important decision in the history of Paliyl history. His people were starving. The Atlanteans would surely provide food and shelter for their labourers. For seven days and seven nights Baruch stood before the gates of Atlantis, yelling to anyone who would listen that he offered himself and his people in service. When Baruch returned to his people with the news that he had finally solved their problem, they were elated. When they discovered that he had sold every man, woman, and child of the tribe to the cursèd Atlanteans, they were livid. To this day, Baruch's name is still an insult of the highest order, reserved for the foulest of traitors. Still and all, the people had a dry place to sleep and warm food to eat, and it's hard to hold on to an ideological grudge in the face of that. When, in the course of a few generations, the Paliylim's meal-ticket took off for aerial parts unknown, the people returned to their previous grumbling. Without Atlantean magic, they were no longer safe from the cold. Their food was no longer doled out on a daily basis. Even slavery was better than this. Whine whine, bitch bitch. And so it was that Avram ben Paliylim — the first Elder since Baruch (may he dwell forever at the bottom of the God's chamberpot) not to be a hand-picked mouthpiece for the Atlanteans — led the people in search of someplace to call their own. Eventually they came to the foothills in the shadow of the Crystal Mountains, and there was founded Bayith Mechacem, the house of refuge, the first Paliyl village. It was also Avram who, in a stunningly progressive move from an otherwise conservative man, insisted that the law and history of the tribe be written down so that none could ever forget, and so he developed the flowing, stylised script which became the sole domain of council scholars. The Paliylim took readily to settled life, and even before the passing of Winter, their numbers expanded quickly. Rather than swelling the borders of Bayith Mechacem, the people ventured farther south and west along the coast, establishing a chain of settlements as they went. Today, a bare handful of generations since the God's wrath abated, taking the Winter with it, the Paliylim number 200 men strong, distributed more or less equally over five villages.

Society : Aside from the obvious divide between the council and everyone else, Paliyl social structure is remarkably egalitarian. This is due in part to the relative newness of their independent and quasi-urban life — there simply hasn't been time for a class-gap to form — but mostly because of their abiding hatred for the servitude forced upon them by Baruch (may his corpse be violated by motherless pigs) and his Atlantean handlers. There is no difference worth noting between a farmer and a potter, a fisherman and a shepherd, a weaver and a trader. Granted, some men are more likely than others to have disposable resources, but the Paliylim have not advanced — or fallen, depending on one's point of view — to the point that a man's wealth or heritage defines his worth as a person. The law applies equally to all, as all men are below the watchful eye of the God. In fact, to Paliyl eyes, there is no distinction between even the council and the common man. What privilege they are afforded is commensurate with their greater duties; it would not do at all for the men charged with providing the moral compass for their people to have to worry about how his children will be fed. The sole exception to this paean to equality is in the Paliyl treatment of their women, best summarised in modern context as "separate but equal." Women, being born into the image of the earth goddess, have their right and proper role as nurturers and life-givers, though their power essentially stops at the border of the family home. Conversely men, in the image of the sky god, are the "doers" in all the more visible arenas, be it religious, legal, or working.

Government : The Paliyl system of government is, in essence, a theocratic oligarchy. Two men from each village sit as members of the council, and they choose from among themselves the one who will serve as the Elder. All ten of the council members, including the Elder, hold their positions for life. In the event of his demise, a council member is succeeded by his son; while the Elder's son does take up his father's place as part of the council, the actual mantle of leadership passes to the most highly-regarded of the extant members. In the event that a councillor dies without a son to take his place — it's rare, but accidents will happen — the council casts lots to determine what man of the decedent's village stands worthy to succeed him. It should also be noted that, because the council sits in judgment over the people, that they are to be paragons of righteousness. Should one of their number be found guilty of violating even the most minor of the tribe's laws, he is immediately removed from his position, and the lots are cast to find his successor, since he has so eminently dishonoured his own house; this is over and above what punishment the law itself demands. Of all the Paliylim, only council members and their eldest sons are literate, so that they will be able to read and interpret the staggeringly huge body of tribal law. This is not considered a privilege, but rather a responsibility. The first literate people the Paliylim had contact with were the Atlanteans themselves, and so there is a lasting feeling among Paliylim that the written word is inextricably tied to the Sky Devils' heathen magics. Only the council, virtuous men that they are, can be wholly trusted to remain pure and upright despite such dubious knowledge.

Economy : The Paliylim are primarily farmers and shepherds; this is supplemented with shallow-ocean fishing. Indigenous grains are favoured crops, and each village boasts a sizable orchard which is the property and responsibility of the village as a whole. A tenth part of each village's production is set aside for the care of the council, when they are in town, and for the families they leave behind. Of what remains, most stays in the village, food for the families that raised it. Any excess is either distributed on an as-needed basis to other Paliylim — "Oh Yitzach! I heard some of your flock was stolen by ::spit:: those godless horsemen. Please, take these lambs." — or else set aside for use as trade goods. In addition to basic farm products, the Paliylim run a fairly healthy "foreign" trade as merchants of sea-salt, pottery, and some of the finest cloth you'll find in these here parts. Eminently practical people that they are, the Paliylim rely on trade partners to procure luxury items such as furs, gems and jewelry, exotic produce, and the like. Once in a very great while — it's a long trip, and it's hard finding the spare manpower — a trading party will venture as far afield as the Half Cliffs to avail themselves of the 1337 dying skillz of the people there. This is an exceptionally rare occurence, however, making it a mark of exceptional wealth to wear any kind of clothing that isn't plain old off-white.

Religion : In their earliest history, the Paliylim worshipped a fairly typical animist pantheon. There were spirits of the earth, the sky, the rivers, the plants, the animals... all around were divinities, all of whom needed to be appeased to prevent them from going all hostile. Over time, the pantheon simplified — the spirits of streams and springs and oases and rain and the sea were ideologically merged into a singular god of water, for example — and an increasingly-rigid heirarchy was formulated. At the top of the pecking order were the God of the Heavens and the Goddess of the Earth. All was well and good for some time; the Paliylim were willing to accept that their neighbours revered other gods, and that was fine — eventually the real Powers would make their displeasure eminently apparent. Then the Winter came, and the Paliylim believed that the kind, beneficent and much-loved Goddess had turned her back on them, exposing them to the tender mercies of the capricious and vengeful God. The only thing for it, then, was to pray for mercy as if their lives depended on it. The other gods and goddesses still existed, of course, but they all took on secondary (if that) importance to the greatest and most powerful God whose wrath was dropping people like flies. Even in the restored calm after Winter's passing, memory of the God's wrath is still too fresh — Yownah's great-grandfather, for example, had blackened stubs for feet due to the severe frostbite he incurred as a child — for devotion to the other deities to feel quite safe.

Law : Paliyl law began as a body of oral tradition with two basic themes. The first was a systematised procedure for keeping the various spirits of nature satiated — prayer, sacrifice, celebratory festivals, and the like. The second could be most accurately summed up as "stupid things you should not do if you don't want to end up sick or dead." Don't eat critters known for being disease carriers, or the best you can hope for will be the screaming meemees; don't have sex with blood relatives, or your children will have six toes; don't over-work the soil, or you won't be able to raise a crop there next year. Over the years, these two originally distinct bodies of law became strongly intertwined, and, as the pantheon became more rigid, so too did the body of tribal law. For every conceivable misdeed, there is a very clearly defined, and often very harsh, punishment; the idea being that the penalty for breaking the law should in itself be a major deterrent. The death penalty is quite common, being trotted out for everything from worshipping other tribes' gods to sexual misconduct to injury causing miscarriage to outright murder. The sole and highly notable exception here being that a child who has not yet reached the age of majority (13 for boys, 14 for girls) was not considered fully responsible for his or her own actions, and the sentence called for is instead be visited upon the child's mother — being the primary caregiver, she is obviously to be held responsible for her child's crimes. The Elder and council make a monthly circuit of Paliylim villages to sit in judgment over any offenses that cannot be settled amicably; in the case of particularly heinous offenses, their decisions are made to the assembled whole of that village. The word of the Elder is held as absolute and incontrovertable — no mistrial, no appeal.

History :
Little Yownah had the bitter misfortune of having for a father one Shephet ben Paliylim, a much-respected and head of the tribal council. Granted, this wasn't so misfortunate at the outset, as Yownah was a gentle and mild as her name promised, and Shephet and Deborah loved their daughter very much. In some respects, Yownah's childhood was typically bland. She played with her favourite doll sometimes, sometimes she scampered about with other children her age — and suffered the normal range of bumps and bruises in doing so. She helped her mother with cooking and cleaning and all manner of other girly things.
And she learned. Oh, boy howdy, how she learned. As has been noted, all of the Paliylim are educated after a fashion, in that they know the basic tenets of tribal law. However, when one is the only child of the Elder, one is naturally held to a somewhat higher standard. She could recite the entire body of Paliyl law by the age of fourteen, as well as quote past Elders' interpretations and commentary. In a serious break with tradition, Shephet even taught his daughter how to read. While being the eldest son of one of the Council would entitle the boy to being taught his letters, so that he could, in the fullness of time, take his father's place, the thought of a woman being groomed to join their august number was absolutely unheard of. Caught between the equally valid and diametrically opposed ethics of acquiescence to the Elder's mandates and generations of male-exclusive literacy, Shephet's fellow-councillors held their tongues, content to trust the Elder's wisdom.
It was shortly after Yownah's rites of passage that Shepheth shuffled off this mortal coil. The eldest of the remaining council became the new Elder, and Yownah, in accordance with her late father's highly unorthodox wishes, was added to their number. It was an honour, to be sure, of which Yownah was immensely proud, but at the same time, let's not forget that she was a fourteen year old girl. Given her druthers, Yownah would have been perfectly content to be scoping out boys and yapping with the girlfriends she'd been more or less forced to outgrow. At the same time, the Council's tacit opinion that one so young had no right to sit among their august number was made abundantly clear. After no little deliberation, then, she decided that she would strike out on her own for a bit, leaving her duties behind her so that when she returned, wild oats sown, she could settle down and be the staid, practical, responsible council member she was supposed to be.
Things did not work out as planned.
In the dead of the night, Yownah crept out of her village and wandered out into the great unknown without much more than the clothes on her back and a bag lunch in her hand. In the history of monumentally stupid things to do, this very moment would shine out as a veritable beacon, though not for the typical reasons. Oh, things started out predictably enough. Yownah ran out of food and water in short order, and so sat herself down atop a smallish hill, hoping that eventually someone would happen by and offer her either food or an escort home. And, in time, someone did happen by — a rangy lad, not much older than she, with rich auburn hair, soulful brown eyes, a charming accent, and an... exotic... aroma. They shared his rations, they shared a bit of conversation, and, come nightfall, they shared his bedroll. This process was repeated over the course of the next week or so, until Yownah, who had fallen head-over-heels into her very first crush, awoke one morning to find herself alone again. To his credit, her mystery man had left her the bedroll, as well as enough food and water to make the trek home. What neither of them knew at the time was that he had also left her another parting gift. Had he known, and she been not-sheltered enough to suspect, it's a safe bet that things would have turned out differently. As it was, though, Yownah didn't see anything left for it but to head home, her brief adventure come to an end.
She took the long way back to her own village, giving herself ample opportunity to take a good thorough bath and get rid of the (overpowering, by now) scent of horse sweat and boy sweat and campfire smoke and incense. By the time she actually got home, then, all anyone could really tell was that she'd been gone for a few weeks. While it was considered highly risky for a unescorted girl of her age, it wasn't in itself a violation of any of the laws of the tribe, and so the only punishment levied was for the discourtesy of leaving her duties without so much as a by-your-leave. Yownah had to compose and recite for the council, with the full audience of the rest of the village, a good long dissertation on the importance of duty and responsibility. After this, all was considered forgiven, and Yownah was reinstated to her council seat.
The moon turned once — anyone can miss one month, right? The moon turned twice, then three times, and still the ways of women did not visit Yownah. She hid this fact for as long as she could, taking the ritually-proscribed time out once every four weeks for prayer and purification, but eventually her mother picked up on the fact that there was something not quite right. Concerned mother that she was, Deborah took Yownah to see the village healer. After much poking and prodding, and some primitive divination, it was determined that Yownah was, in fact, up the spout. Confronted with this information, Yownah folded like a deck chair and confessed everything that had happened on her walkabout, including relatively anonymous sex with one of those heathen horse-men.
A closed-door meeting of the council was called immediately. Nothing of this magnitude had happened in living memory, and so they were completely unprepared to deal with the situation at hand. Something had to be done, that was certain, and for one of their own to have so transgressed demanded the strictest possible reprisal. Discussion and debate wore on for the better part of two days, with Yownah waiting in solitude all the while. When the council finally returned, the Elder proclaimed their ruling to the whole village. Not only had Yownah conceived a child out of wedlock, not only had the father of that child been one of the Unclean, but she had then lied about the whole sordid mess. Any one of these things alone would have merited serious retribution, but the package as a whole, especially coming from one of the Council, one of those chosen few who were to serve as a moral beacone for the tribe, was utterly unconscionable. There could be no forgiveness for such a great transgression, and so Yownah was to be put to death in the most public and severe manner possible — at least then her death could serve as a small act of redemption, by allowing her to serve once more as an example to the people, even if a negative one. She was to weave her own burial shroud and, after she had birthed the child (the infant would be given the chance to atone for his conception through living a righteous life), she would be taken out of the village where she would dig her own grave and then lie down in it, at which point every man, woman, and child gathered would throw a handful of dirt on top of her until the hole was completely filled. No one, not even Deborah, batted an eyelash at this; the Elder had spoken, and his words as head of the council were absolute.
Day in and day out for six full months Yownah sat at the loom, never doubting that the council would, somehow, change their minds about this and she would be allowed to live. No such luck. As soon as the baby — a perfect little boy with hair like his father's — was delivered, cleaned, and handed off to a wet nurse, Yownah was wrapped in her shroud and taken to an empty field outside the village. Still weak from childbirth, Yownah dug her hole, begging all the while for mercy. When the hole was finished, she had to be pushed in, kicking and screaming. Then, one by one and starting with the Elder and the council, every last villager threw on handfuls of sand. When the deed was done, a single stone was placed at the head of the grave, painted with the symbol for "desecration." Then with all solemnity and quiet, the Paliylim returned to their homes and went on about their lives.
As fortune would have it, a small band of Redemption cultists happed across the solitary grave a short time later. Curious as to why this patch of ground would have been so marked — Paliyl script is all but indecipherable by outsiders, even literate ones — they dug through the sand, revealing an unconcious young girl in a bloody shroud. As the cultists made ready to cover her again, one saw that she was still breathing, though weakly. They took her back to their temple to see if the healers there could do anything for her.
When Yownah regained consciousness, she was understandably confused and relieved, expecting as she had never to see the light of another day. She had no way of knowing how long she'd lain unconscious in the pit she'd been made to dig, and she honestly and wholeheartedly believed that she had truly died. When she learned that it had been Marduk himself who had restored her, Yownah decided on the spot that she would make herself worthy of the grace and mercy he had bestowed upon her. She learned, and feel hopelessly enamoured of, Brotherhood dogma. She did menial chores and scutwork around the temple, without having to be asked or told. She talked with worshippers coming to or from service, telling anyone who cared to listen how the Prophet had brought her back from death itself. In due time, the depth of her devotion was made known to Marduk, and he offered Yownah the opportunity to become part of his inner circle, his most trusted followers. Needless to say, she jumped at the chance, and has been a faithful devotee of her saviour ever since.

NPCs
Sweet mother of Marduk, NO.

Special Skills :

Ending the watch : With a soft, gentle caress of a sick or dying person's forehead, Yownah can send his or her soul quickly and peacefully to its eternal rest. At least, that's what she'd like you to believe. While it's true that Yownah's touch does bring release from the pain and suffering of illness or injury, it's the final destination of the decedent's soul that is the sticking point. Rather than sending her victims to the afterlife, she instead draws out and traps their souls within herself, to be used later for her own nefarious purposes, i.e. Irkalla's "Last Trump" power. The down side is that for as long as she's time-sharing her psyche, Yownah is generally out-of-sorts and distracted by her spiritual guests — nothing so coherent as hearing their voices; rather, some of their mannerisms and emotional residue impress onto Yownah herself — and this effect is heightened as she absorbs more souls, up to a carrying capacity of six.

Endurance : A part of Marduk's gift to Yownah-as-Irkalla, she cannot die of attrition. Not only can she survive far longer without food, water, or even air than a normal human being, if she ever reaches the absolute limit of her enhanced stamina, her body simply goes into, effectively, a state of suspended animation until the problem can be remedied. Note, however, that this gift only prevents death caused by suffocation, dehydration, or starvation — lop off her head and she'll be just as dead as the next guy.

Healing : In her two-and-a-bit years as part of the Brotherhood, Yownah has picked up a fair degree of purely mundane medical skill. She's competent to carry out most forms of first aid, and is a fair hand at preparing herbal remedies and pain relievers. More than that, though, by the grace of Marduk she can restore the newly-dead to something very much like a normal life. Naturally, this is not without its costs. For starters, Yownah must offer of her own energy reserves to reanimate the body; the longer it has been dead, the more it takes to jump-start. As noted above, simple depletion of reserves isn't enough to kill Yownah, but the effort involved in bringing back even a brand new corpse is nothing to sneeze at. If the person in question has been dead more than a year, Yownah would have to burn out all of her reserves, putting herself into a coma lasting damn-nigh indefinitely, and even then it might not work. Even if Yownah does succeed in resurrecting the dearly departed, Death is a jealous mistress, and the restored person from that point on has one foot still in the grave, as it were, being more susceptible to injury and illness, as well as having lost some indefinable spark of character. Unless the formerly-dead is a senshi or Acolyte, this loss is permanent, and even empowered individuals will recover slowly. Finally, there is a karmic tie forged between Yownah and those she revives. When they finally do succumb to their weakened state and do die again, Yownah suffers the same loss of power that she did in bringing them back in the first place. Additionally, if she is ever directly responsible for the final death of any of her little miracles, in addition to the drain of energy, she suffers the same loss of health and will that the victim him- or herself did, and languishes in this state for far longer than another powered-up character would.

Literacy : Because Shephet was not only unusually liberal for a Paliyl, but also of exceptionally high standing and unreproachable scholarship, he got away with teaching Yownah how to read and write. Granted, however, she's only properly fluent in the Paliyl liturgical script, which isn't close enough to any other known writing system to even allow her to hazard a close guess at, for example, Gwyllion ledgers. As an aside, when reading or writing Marduk's name, she always pauses, backs off from the paper, and bows before and after the name, in reverence for the Prohpet.

Memory : Anything Yownah decides is important enough to remember will stick in her head nigh-indefinitely. Not eidetic by any means, Yownah's memory requires some effort and tricks to allow her to exploit its full potential, but this isn't teribly burdensome. After all, she did manage to memorise an entire body of absurdly complex tribal law and history by the age of fourteen.

Henshin Item :
Pass.

Transformation :
Also pass.

Colours :
Irkalla's colours are sybolic of both death and life, since resurrection is the transition between those two states. Her primary is earthy brown , for the grave, because "death black" is painful and blatant and DAMMIT EVERYONE USES BLACK. Ahem. Moving on to the secondary colour, we have a pale grey-blue , indicative of breath and thereby life.

Symbol :
Good little Redeemer that she is, Irkalla bears the quad-oval symbol of Marduk.

Costume :
Working from the inside out, Irkalla's costume begins with burial wrappings. Four-inch wide strips of off-white cloth, bearing a marked resemblance to mummy bandages, cover the whole of Irkalla's arms, torso, and legs. The only visible ties or loose ends are the knots at either wrist, with a short pair of streamers dangling from each. Over this, a long, wide band of brown cloth with a stripe of blue down the centre loops from Irkalla's left hip, across the chest over the right shoulder and back, then around the waist for a second loop. From here, the brown cloth loops around Irkalla's thighs, lengthening in mid-circuit to reach down to her right knee. This last loop, however, is slashed through so that the pseudo-skirt, while solid where it joins up at the left hip, is a mass of alternating brown and blue ribbons for the most part, echoing the bandage motif of the bottom layer. The whole mess is held in place at the hip with an enamelled blue disc-shaped clasp, etched with Marduk's symbol.
That so doesn't make sense. Note to self, draw something.

Powers :

The Last Trump
Stock Footage : Irkalla blows her shofar, and the spirits Yownah has collected via her Ending the Watch ability spew forth, all anger and vengeance and nasty spectral teeth and claws.
Mechanic : While Irkalla's spectres do no actual physical damage with their teeth and claws, they do inflict spiritual damage, for lack of a more precise term. Effectively, while they can't really bite your arm off or tear open your innards, it feels like they did. Ow. Irkalla can only call forth as many souls as she's been able to steal since the last time she used this attack, so we're looking at six at the absolute most. Because they are noncorporeal, the spectres' attacks cannot be blocked except by spirit-warding or the like, but they can be dodged if you're quick about it. The upshot is that the spectres can be destroyed with one or two senshi-type energy attacks; again, though, because they have no physical form, anything that relies upon physical contact is ineffective.

Misfortune Revived
Stock Footage : Irkalla holds out her shofar as she shouts "Misfortune Revived." A swirling sphere of blue and brown energy coalesces in the open end of the horn as she then raises it to her lips and sounds a mighty trumpet blast. The energy ball shoots toward its target or targets, changing form as it flies into the pyrotechnics of the very last power used against Irkalla.
Mechanic : The key thing here is that Irkalla herself must be the direct recipient of the power she's resurrecting, whether as the original target or by being caught in the "blast zone" of an area effect. Being beaten on by someone who's fallen victim to a mind-control spell or attack, for example, doesn't count. Also, the power in question cannot still be in effect — something has to be dead before it can be resurrected. After this, though, any conditions of the original power, aside from the actual choreography or material components (e.g. range, evasion, number of uses), apply to Irkalla just as if the power were her own. Misfortune Revived is equally effective against both Senshi/Rook attacks and Atlantean magic; however, having no experience to speak of with magic, Irkalla may not be able to recognise a reasonably subtle spell and will, therefore, not be aware that there's anything to be done.

Weapon :
Irkalla carries a shofar, a ram's horn trumpet. Like the one shown in the linked image, Irkalla's shofar is made of actual horn, banded with gold. A blue ribbon connects the first and last bands, allowing the horn to be hung from Irkalla's belt-clasp thing. Measured along the curve, it's roughly as long as Irkalla's arm — no, I don't want to see the sheep this came from — and so, between the mass of horn and metal, has a fair bit of heft to it. Accordingly, the shofar could, in theory, be used to whap someone, though Irkalla generally only uses it as the focus for her powers.

Part I : Player Information : from inside the fish Jonah prayed

Part II : Character Information : from the depths of sheol I called for help

Part III : Acolyte Information : the earth beneath barred me in forever

Part IV : Miscellaneous Information : but you brought up my life from the pit

Part V : Writing Sample : I, with a song of thanksgiving, will sacrifice to you

:: Sailormoon Genesis ::