The Story

I knew Imberia once. Large guilded towers rose from the ocean like royal beacons of prosperity. Ceilings as tall as forty elephants loomed gracefully overhead. She was the gem of the ocean. It was a place of refuge for the Cygnar who had become ill with the presence of war in their nation. Imberia was the land of new hope and the symbol of the ocean herself. The people worked alongside nature to maintain a perfect equilibrium. The fish provided food and the people provided to the sea. They worshiped her beauty and feared her awesome wrath. Because of their peaceful and loyal devotion to the ocean, they were gifted the ability to control its storms. Tiny rain clouds were used to irrigate the crops, providing valuable grain for the people. Lightning shows were common to impress the citizens and remind them of natures power. Even hurricanes and dreadful tsunami's could be powerfully diverted around the island, ensuring its protection. In this way, It would not be nature that the people of Imberia had to fear.

It began when the island was discovered by a fleet of travelling Cygnarian Warships. While reluctant at first, Imberia opened its arms to accept the newcomers. The Cygnarian Captain ensured the people that he had no intentions of disturbing them and understood their desire to remain clear of war. A barrel of gunpowder was offered as a sign of trust and in return, they provided shelter for the Cygnar crew until they left the following day. Word travels quickly through the ranks of the Cygnar army and within hours, a separate larger fleet of Warships rode through the midnight fog seeking shelter on the island. This continued for several weeks until a temporary base had unknowingly been constructed on the far side of the island. Cygnarian troops had begun settling on the shores and building a safe house for supplies. The people of Imberia had grown increasingly aware of this bunker but opted to turn a blind eye due to the kindness of the troops. After all, they were still safely away from the war they sought so deeply to avoid.

Reports of nearby Khadoran battleships became increasingly common from returning scout parties. To be safe, the Cygnarian forces requested a City guard be hired to maintain security, an odd request for a peaceful nation. The island had slowly become a warehouse for Cygnar Warjacks. Metal behemoths lumbered through the Imberian streets, their bodies clad in the colors of war. The people of Imberia looked at these monsters in horror. Imberia knew nothing of war. By request, the colors of the warjacks were painted to represent the peaceful ocean tides with shades of blues and greens, covering the bloodstained metals beneath. With their new colors, the reserve Cygnar Warjacks were accepted by the people of Imberia. With the increasing tensions of security, many townspeople grew concerned, trading in their fishing nets for pistols in defense. A shifting paranoia swept the city until finally the nerve was struck and the time had  come.

In the early hours after a gentle rainfall had cleansed the island in a misty haze, a Cygnarian guard stood watch in a high shore tower. He gazed out at the mist through the morning darkness when  a flash pierced the sky. This was not the typical flash of a lightning cloud. It started from below and rose to the sky in an arcing screech that lit the town like a flare. In its wake came the rumbling blast of cannon fire as a fleet of Khadoran Warships emerged from the fog. The town was alive with fire as the warjacks sprung to their feet, blasting through walls to get to the shoreline. Bullets ricocheted off incoming cannonballs as the troops fought to push back the Warships. Stockpiles of black powder erupted in great infernos, ripping apart the island trees and throwing massive debris into the shallow reef.

War had entered the last peaceful place in all the Iron Kingdoms. The waves began growing as sunken ships struck the ocean floor, spewing oils and supplies over the coral beds. In the madness, rain began to fall as shots rang out in blasts of hot white smoke. The waves grew towering over the ships until all went silent and every man stopped and looked towards the tallest tower in Imberia. With a deep groan that shook the rails of every ship, The tower began to buckle and fall. The ocean bed cracked violently spouting walls of water hundreds of feet in the air. Crashing waves pulverized ships into crumpled heaps and tossed them to shore like pebbles crushing men beneath the iron hulls. The shore began to drop. Men scrambled desperately to climb the sands only to be sucked under by a vicious current, drowning the screams from their mouths. The Island wasn't sinking, but rather being swallowed. In a bubbling fit, every last man, tower, and ship was eaten by the cold jaws of the ocean.  After all the gifts the ocean had given, It was man who ruined the Utopian dreams of Imberia.

Yet, all was not lost. The people of Imberia were given a second chance. It was not their fault that this fate should fall upon them. Their only mistake was being too trusting. The ocean spared the air in their lungs and filled them with a rage to mirror the storms themselves, A relentless desire to eradicate those who had wronged them, to ultimately end this war by way of force. The people of Imberia had been given the wrath of the ocean. They call upon the sunken hulls of the Warjacks that had fallen in the madness. They call upon the power of the storm to sweep away all who oppose them. They call upon revenge against all other factions. Imberia will live again, once all who threaten their livelihood have been swallowed by the tide.