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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sagiro" data-source="post: 358953" data-attributes="member: 726">Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 145 Morningstar is swiftly granted an audience.  She and Dranko are escorted through the darkened halls of the temple to the office of the High Priestess.  Dranko is asked politely by a neophyte to wait outside; Rhiavonne wishes to speak with Morningstar in private.  The half-orc gives his betrothed a reassuring squeeze on the arm, and in she goes.High Priestess Rhiavonne, most holy of Ell in all Charagan, has her back to the door.  She looks out a window onto the eternally-twilit rooftops of Kallor.   Without turning, she says:  “Ah, Morningstar, please come in.  Come stand by me.”Morningstar walks quietly to the window.  Rhiavonne is small, old, and radiates a great power as she gazes upon her city.“Morningstar, look outside, and tell me what you see.”“I see the holy city, blessed by the Goddess,” Morningstar says.“I see a philosophy,” says Rhiavonne.  “I see a truth.  I see a choice that the Goddess made, that the land on which her foot first fell should forever be in darkness. “I have spent many years with my head in books, reading the wisdom of sisters who have gone before us. I have read accounts of people who think as you do; of women determined that our immersion in the night is a weakness. I have seen prophecies warning about the consequences of staying our current course. I have read the histories that Swan made sure I saw: that once Ell was a Goddess of dreams, and all her children Dreamwalkers. I have read them. I have pondered them. “And for every one of those voices of dissent, I have read a dozen that confirm that our current philosophy is the right one. That our commitment to the night must be absolute and that to divide our efforts will lead to ruin. That our shift from the world of dreams to the world of reality was caused and confirmed by Ell herself, realizing that in dreams we could not affect the world as we can otherwise. “And if there is one message that permeates Ell's teachings and those of her prophets throughout the ages, it is this: that she leaves it to her mortal children how to interpret her will. She does not dictate to us. Rather she presents a divine truth so expansive that none can see it whole. It is for us to make of it what we will.”Morningstar takes a deep breath.  “That is what I am doing, in the best way I know how.  I am also charged with interpreting Ell’s will.”“Yes.  Yes you are.” Rhiavonne says.  She sits behind her table, and motions toward a chair opposite.  “Morningstar, sit down.  If you’ll indulge an old woman, I wish to tell you a parable.  “‘Once there was an apothecary who lived in a small town. There were others of his profession there, but this one prepared only one potion. It was a cure for a rare but deadly disease that struck maybe only one person in a whole year. The cure itself was difficult to prepare, and the ingredients were rare and expensive, but he devoted 10 months out of every year to its brewing, and every year, if a child was stricken with the sickness, he would be ready with his potion, and he would administer the cure. His wife earned enough money for them both to live, by weaving cloth. One day his wife said to him, ‘what you do is commendable, and you save a life in many years, but there is more that you can do. The other leeches and alchemists in town make a good living selling cures for the flux, and for the rash, and for expelling ticks and lice. You could do the same, but still have time to keep brewing your special cure, and we would be even better loved. Also, we are vulnerable. What if a year comes when no one has the sickness, and there is no demand for my cloth? We would starve!’That following year the apothecary made his cure, but also mixed many other potions and powders to help the people of the town. People started to buy from them who once bought from others, and their business thrived. And while no one came down with the singular disease for which he usually prepared, they ate well that winter and had means to give to charity as well. In the six years that followed, the apothecary spent more and more time branching his business, and less and less time gathering the ingredients and mixing his special cure. At first he still found the time to mix it, and managed to prepare a fresh dose each fall, but it became more and more difficult to spend time on it when there was so much else to do. And after six years had passed, during which time no one contracted the deadly illness, he decided that for one year at least he might forego his usual specialty, and spend more time helping the people of the town in more practical and numerous ways. In the seventh year the apothecary's own granddaughter fell ill, and died within a day, for no cure was ready.’”Rhiavonne sits up straighter and looks directly into Morningstar’s eyes, a sad but stern expression on her wrinkled face.“I listen to Amber, and to Swan, and to you, and I hear the first whispers of the wife. We would not set out to abandon our mission. But in ten years, or a hundred...  It is my place to speak to the future, and hearing you, I know more than ever what I must say. “Ell leaves it to each of us to further the church's ends in the ways that seem most right. I will not seek to do harm upon Amber and her followers, nor claim any reparations from her. But I must issue this edict: that the Illuminated Sisterhood is a heretical organization, and has no place within the Church of Ell. Its followers must either renounce in total their adherence to its tenets, or consider themselves Excommunicated from the Church, divided entirely from its holdings, its temples and services, and its support. They shall not pray or perform Miracles within Ellish temples, nor make claims to have done so. And I will start with you, Morningstar, though I think I already know your answer. But here is the choice: will you renounce the Illuminated Sisterhood and rejoin the Mother Church, or will you face Excommunication?”…to be continued…</blockquote>

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