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The fact that you have this Great Book open before you
means that the High Priest of your island a divine
friend to your people has been captured in battle and
slaughtered by another tribe of Nimbus. Let your people
mourn and wail for him, as they surely will. For you,
however, the time of mourning must now be finished. For
you have been chosen to replace him, and there is much
that you must learn, and very little time.
The topics that follow will clarify your tasks and
duties in detail, but certain things must be explained
immediately. Let the details wait for a calmer time, if
ever it comes. You have been chosen from among your
people to serve them, even until your very death.
If you are reading this now, then you have come safely
through your initiation. Undoubtedly you are afraid and
confused, and your body is weak. Be assured that you
will recover that you will soon be even stronger than
before.
Now your training in the Priesthood of Nimbus begins.
Know that in a time before memory the floating islands
of Nimbus were one: one sphere of land, one tribe of
people, and that our hearts were free of hatred, as they
can never be again.
Know that under that one land, there grew an invisible
darkness and storm. The Furies whose brotherhood was
balanced and strong collapsed into ferocious jealousies
and rage. Thunder who is powerful and proud craved the
agility and speed of his brother Wind who longed, in
turn, for the rejuvenating powers of Rain. And the envy
spiraled. And the storm under the land rumbled and grew.
It was this battle, which rages still, that tattered our
land, tore it into bits, and hurled the pieces into the
sky: Nimbus as we know it now.
Know that the Furies have divided us. The wise ancients
say that the Furies will unite us again in the end times.
Until then, we must fight for the precious resources
that these islands supply us. We must descend from the
peaceful Serenisphere, down into the Pyrosphere where
these battles rage. If we do not fight, we do not survive.
But make no mistake: survival is secondary to glory. We
are fighting to rule these skies, to dominate our enemy
tribes, and to unite Nimbus again under one mighty hand.
Know that henceforward you are in mortal danger. Your
spilled blood is precious to other Priests, as theirs
will be precious to you. It is only by the release of
their blood that the Furies will grant you the Knowledge
of wondrous and powerful forms of warfare. Your people
will need them to dominate your ravenous foes. Let your
knife dig deep into the hearts of these men. Let your
Altar wrench from their souls the bloody destiny of your
people.
Know that this sacred Temple, these stately Workshops,
and all the parts of this miraculous machinery of war
are now parts of yourself. And these magical bridges
that weave it together are like the veins that run
between your own organs. When a Workshop is destroyed it
will seem that your arm is being hacked from your body.
When a bridge falls down through the clouds and into the
abyss, you will feel that you are falling with it. And
when your Whirligigs or your Thunder Cannons score
victories for your people, you will feel the glory of
that victory surging toward your heart like a heat.
Know that one day, you may meet your end on the Altar of
your foes. If that hour should come, another will be
chosen. He will suffer as you have suffered, and he will
carry on your work, just as you now take up the torch of
those who have come before you. Look to the vast tribute
people now pay to your slain predecessor. Someday that
tribute and glory will be yours.
Go forth, High Priest of Nimbus, into your destiny.
