Mortals and Gods of Sapience,

I am one who was a priest training towards ordination within the
Empyreal Assembly. I served the Church with all my soul, and believed
firmly in its essential goodness, and the validity of the teachings of
the Codex.

A primary focus of the Holy Church is the elimination of evil. Thus we,
as young Churchmembers, were permitted, and even encouraged to destroy
denizens of an evil alignment. My brother and I grew up hunting Cultists
and Gnolls.

Some days ago, though it seems like an eternity now, I was was hunting
in the Manara burrows. Like so many times before, I came upon a gnoll
sentry guarding his portion of the hallway, and I laid into him without
mercy. My mace crushed his skull, I listened to his dying screams, and I
gloated as my soul rose to new heights from the power of the killing.

And then I saw myself. Standing there, blood on my hands, bodies
scattered around me. What had I become? By the standards of the Church,
I was a very good priest. I destroyed evil, protected good, and my soul
shone with a seraphic white light.

But by my own standards, I had become a monster. Life is the gift of the
Logos to all mortal things, our most sacred and holy possession. Who am
I to deprieve another mortal of the gift bestowed upon him by the Logos?

The guilt and shame weighed me down like heavy stones as I returned to
Shallam, too sick at hurt to continue with my hunting. For hours I knelt
in the apse of the Basilica, imploring the heavens for forgiveness. The
violence and the death were a stain upon my soul. How could I atone for
my crimes? How could I make up, in some small part, for the suffering I
had brought upon mortals?

With a bitter heart, I bade farewell to my brothers and sisters within
the Empyreal Assembly, the Church, and the City of Shallam. I set out in
search of Oneiros, God of Peace.

I visited every city, save for Mhaldor, in my hunt for someone who might
know something of the Lord of the White Feather. In Cyrene, I was told
to seek out a woman named Bambi in Hashan, but I was unable to find her
there when I searched. I will keep searching.

None I spoke to could even tell me the location of His temple. Only by
studying His posts, from centuries ago, was I able to determine its
location.

Shaking off my priestly misgivings in my desperation to find answers, I
consulted an Occultist, hoping against hope that those who knew
forbidden things might know something of this thing. She was kinder to
me than I would have thought, from what I was taught of their hatred of
us, but she was unable to tell me anything of the Lord or His Order.

I even dared to reach out telepathically to two of the Divine. The first
advised me in vague and cryptic language that amounted to an attempt to
sound wise without really revealing anything, while the second refused
to speak on the province of another God.

So I am appealing to you, people of Sapience. Do any of you know of Lord
Oneiros? A fool stood within His temple, before His master shrine, and
denied His existance, threatening to murder me in the very sanctum of
Peace. Is Peace truely departed from the land?

I abide within the caves of Shastaan, meditating in that holy place, and
seeking to find a balm for my soul. My soul roils with grief and turmoil
and guilt, my soul longs for forgiveness and absolution and redemption.
My soul longs for Peace.

Only my angel remains with me now, of all I had. I have forsaken the
mace, and offer my meager services as a healer to any who might need
them. Perhaps in this way I can, by restoring the ill and afflicted,
atone for the evil I have done.

In Search of Peace,
Primus Rumnaheim

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Phaestian, in the year 409 AF.