The Hundredth Side
So i came up with an idea inspired by the this is sparta contest and the idea that a side with brutal condition and initiations for new units could be made stronger despite losing most of each new popping.
The original 99 Kings and Queens were created to spread the will of the Titans across the Erf. They are the examples of nobility in how worthy rulers treat units they command. They inspire us with tales of cunning plans and heroic charges. With Titanic Scripture in your heart and the deeds 99 in mind the Shared Fate of Croaking is nothing when these examples will lead any unit to the City of Heroes. However, not all the stories of the early times and rulers are inspiring. One ruler provides a more cautionary tale of greed and arrogance; of fighting fate and finding that the only thing one can “win” is an eternal Hellabad on Erf.
The twisted remains of a once lush jungle is the home of the oldest ruler on Erf. He commands one city which can only be found wandering through the haze of smokey forest hexes filled with living traps. False embers, Fireflies, perpetually drift through the heat. Their light dims as they land on a branch or leaf and flares up again as they lift off burning small smokey ruins into branch and leaf. The burning leaves fall and occasionally ignite the iridescent slicks of what passes for water in this dense and choking forest.
At the broken gate to a spiked city of steel stands a truly enormous figure seemingly built of rust and gold. Behind the purple lenses of his fully enclosed golden helmet, wild eyes can still be seen staring blankly ahead or darting madly around his fixed field of vision. This massive figure of rust and gold still holds a defiant pose offering challenge to some long gone foe. If one listens closely the Overlord still attempts to communicate at times, though his mumbles are mostly incomprehensible to the Titans forsaken units under his eternal command.
All this stems from his own arrogance his attempts to directly control his casters rather than allowing them the discretion scripture dictates. Casters know their powers and influence better than any without juice, so he demanded a way to have juice of his own. He managed this feat with the help of Croakaine crafted by forcing a shockamancer linked with a hippiemancer to take the raw power of juice and direct it straight into the mind. He hired from the magic kingdom casters of all disciplines, linking them and making change after change to his domain. He transformed his forest from a vibrant green thing of beauty to the twisted landscape of rust and blades that now stands, to better defend itself from invaders and test the mettle of his soldiers. Not only were weirdomancer and hippiemancer lashed together to dangerously alter the existing ferals but even plants were weaponized. The woods are now home to Reaping Brillows with barbed branches snapping up those jumping back from rusty patches of Sawgrasses. Life is made even worse by the roaming Lake Twolls and the Gourdians of the woods; diminutive and carnivorous vegetable men that delight in misleading units into ambushes to be carved up for decoration around their small villages.
He linked carnymancer and predictamancer twist his fate so that he could never be croaked while still armed and armored for battle. To further stack his odds in the quest to reach the fabled Level Cap a set of armor was commissioned from a linked dollamancer and changeamancer. As his demands grew ever more outrageous and intricate it eventually drew upkeep of it's own and his raiment was transformed into a golem in it's own right. To ensure his prophecy the right hand of this suit was fused to a blade so he could never possibly be disarmed.
These and many other abuses of magic led to his side being the first declared Bad by the Magic Kingdom. Their entrance was sealed off and the stone pillar still stands in portal park. This seal is why no first hand accounts of the sides ruin exist, no casters escaped to tell the tale and since the side never truly ended no tomes in any library mark it's existence.
In the end his attempts to become invincible worked and Ozzy “Iron Man” Dios the 100th ruler, first to be nonroyal has gotten what he desired. He will live on uncroakable and incapacitated, entombed within the rusted shell of his long deceased golem. Deep within the Eisenwald units still pop according to his last production orders from when he had a mind. Spikers and Slashers, units Changed for his rosters, still march through the jungle hunting captives to bring back and toss onto his blade. With his carnied fate he cannot fall, his city cannot be claimed. His upkeep will continue to be met and his XP will slowly build until Erfs final turn.
Edited for grammar issues
Okay, "Croakaine" made me lol.
It's a really interesting premise, and I like the visuals of a constantly burning rainforest. The only recommendations I can give are that maybe, like in the Pierce Byshe Shelley poem you're drawing inspiration from, you could frame the story as a tale shared between two other characters (especially given there's a part 2).
And on that note, it's a big help to add URL links between the parts of your story. Even a simple "Previous Part <> Next Part" is a big help to readers.