“The same sun shines upon us all.”

Unlike most of the other gods and goddesses of Inspera, the Church of Sol is a single hierarchical, unified entity, spread across the continent and, in some places, an institution that rivals the power of the local government. Although the individual attitudes and duties of clerics of the church vary depending on the needs of their communities, all ordained members of the church report to a chain of command that goes all the way up, unbroken, to the Council of Exarchs, seven powerful seers who seek to interpret the will of the god through visions and steer society safely through troubled times. All members of the church who are able employ the scrying magic of the Sol affinity to maintain communication with their peers and superiors, even the most distant shrines, which is likely the reason Sol is able to present such a united front.

Those who worship the god Sol outside the bounds of the church are, for the past century or more, officially tolerated, although the church is known to go through more or less evangelical periods, and some beings with particularly long memories may still recall a time when toleration was not the policy.

Hospitality is one of the primary tenets of Sol, generally held sacred even by those outside the church; as the sun shelters travellers from the dangers of the dark and cold, so too should the virtuous person. Curiosity, communication, and protection, especially the sheltering of those weaker than yourself, are also valued. I imagine there to be, or to have once been, a paladin order in the Church of Sol charged to defend the faithful and protect those who cannot protect themselves. Use of trickery or dishonesty is universally condemned. Using strength of arms to enforce one’s will for the good of others is widely considered acceptable, although ethical arguments abound on what “the good of others” truly means and how much strength is too much.

Aesthetically, the Church has existed as an entity for long enough to accumulate wealth, art, and beauty, so there are some truly breathtaking shrines and temples to the faith. Glass and gold are the hallmarks of architecture dedicated to Sol, glittering gilded domes and vast transparent panels to let the light of the sun inside. Buildings are often made of pale stone with inlaid metal decorations, although this varies by local. Candles, lamps, and enchanted crystals keep any shrine to Sol lit throughout the night; some sects within the church extinguish the lights on nights of the new moon or full moon, to honor the love between Sol and Lune. Regardless of the splendour of the temple, however, all places sacred to sol have at least a few comfortable spaces for dining and sleeping. In honor of the tenet of hospitality, any being with nowhere to go may ask for Sol’s shelter in the night, and the clerics are duty-bound to grant it.

Festivals and celebrations in honor of Sol abound, and are both highly ritualized and remarkably uniform. Any worshipper who knows the songs of midsummer can arrive at a shrine to Sol anywhere on the continent on the longest day of the year and be assured that the hours of prayer and feasting will have the same words, timing, and even broadly speaking the same food on offer as they would find in their own home town.

There has not recently been much tension between the Church of Sol and the secular governments of the seasons, but historically, tensions have been known to arise both within and without. Like the sun, the strength of the church can warm and nurture, but brought to bear too powerfully, can drought and wither. Leading it wisely is a constant balancing act: extending protection without creating oppression; providing oversight without invading privacy; and enforcing principals without damaging individuality.

M'Riiel