A Chronicle of Evil Land
The world of Evil Land groans beneath the weight of a war that has no beginning and promises no end. Out of the dunes, mountains, and fungus-choked ruins, four great powers clash in a storm of ambition, sorcery, and blood: the iron-hearted Qin Dynasty, the Dominion of Canada with its frost-born legions, the dream-haunted House Dagoth of ash and madness, and the soaring airship armadas of the Kingdom of Baron. Their struggle is not for mere survival—it is for dominion of destiny itself, and the ruin of all lesser peoples caught between their boots.
The Qin Dynasty marches across Evil Land as if the wasteland itself were clay awaiting imperial hands. Guided by Emperor Zhao Anxu, half-metal, half-divine, the Qin thunder forward with their doctrine of Unity through Subjugation.
The war drums echo from the Jade Bastion, summoning legions clad in black lamellar, obsidian-bladed scythes flashing in endless formations. They burn tribal camps, salt scavenger markets, and enslave whole populations to dig for fragments of the ancient Great Machine. To Qin eyes, the other powers are rivals for empire—pretenders who must either kneel or vanish.
Against Canada, Qin sneers at their “northern superstition,” deriding maple sigils and frost rites as laughable. Against Dagoth, Qin sees only delusion, ash-worshippers blinded by dreams. Against Baron, Qin finds its most dangerous rival: a kingdom of iron and sky daring to rival Qin order with its own.
Their strategy: overwhelm, assimilate, erase. In every conquered city, the banners of green and black rise, while envoys in jade masks offer only submission or obliteration.
From the frozen north marches the Dominion of Canada, clad in red-and-white, their sigil the eternal maple leaf. To the scavengers of Evil Land, their armies seem phantoms—furred coats bristling with rifles, snow shamans calling down blizzards in deserts, and cavalry mounted upon moose bred to withstand radiation.
The Dominion sees itself as a bulwark of civilization, maintaining order where others spread chaos. But beneath the veneer of politeness and diplomacy lies a ruthless machine of resource extraction, bent on making Evil Land a tributary to the frosted throne. They claim their purpose is to “protect the true North” by extending its reach over all latitudes.
The Qin Dynasty they despise as tyrants without honor. House Dagoth they regard as a corruption to be purged by fire and ice. Baron, however, they distrust most, for Baron's fleets raid Dominion caravans and clash with their snowy legions for control of the high-altitude passes.
The Dominion wages war with rifles, disciplined ranks, and frozen sorcery—ice storms conjured across burning salt plains, fortresses of frozen steel dropped like glaciers into enemy territory.
Wherever the ash winds howl, the banners of House Dagoth rise. Their war is not merely conquest—it is reclamation. To them, Evil Land is already theirs by divine right, a dream still unfolding.
Led by Dagoth Ur Reborn, an ancient sorcerer whose molten heart burns brighter than the sun, the House wages a holy war of smoke, dreams, and shadow. Their warriors—masked ash-ghouls and dreamers clad in corroded chitin—march in unison to psalms echoing from the Red Mountain. They wield spells of sleep and delirium, turning whole regiments of Qin or Canadian troops into frothing zealots of the Dreaming God.
To Qin, House Dagoth is blasphemy, a cult that dares to rival imperial truth. To Canada, they are vermin whose corruption must be frozen and crushed. To Baron, they are troublesome but potentially useful allies, for Baron respects any power that keeps enemies divided.
Dagoth’s strategy is insidious: infiltrate, corrupt, awaken. Already there are whispers that Dagoth’s dreams have infected Dominion generals, that Qin courtiers wake screaming with visions of ash, that even Baron’s airship captains feel an unseen hand upon their minds.
If the Qin rule the earth, and Canada claims the ice, and Dagoth claims the ash, then Baron rules the sky. The Kingdom of Baron is a militarist monarchy whose armadas of black airships blot out the horizon. Their king, Cecil IV the Black-Winged, rules with steel gauntlet and crystal blade, proclaiming that the heavens themselves answer to Baron’s banner.
Baron’s doctrine is simple: the skies are ours, and through the skies, the world. Their fleets strike deep into Evil Land, dropping fire from above onto Qin legions, freezing Dominion caravans mid-journey, and scattering Dagoth’s ashstorms with roaring engines. Their soldiers are elite—dragoons who leap from airships with spears that can pierce through tanks and titans alike.
Baron respects Qin’s order but sees it as an outdated machine of the earthbound. Canada they mock as lumber-clad colonials, unable to ascend. Dagoth they treat as pests to be burned. But in truth, Baron dreams not of alliance or enmity—they dream of absolute supremacy, where no rival dares to look skyward.
The war between these four powers is no single front—it is a thousand scattered hells across Evil Land:
Salt Flats of Bones. Here Qin and Canada clash endlessly, columns of jade-armored infantry against lines of maple-banner rifles, both sides leaving mountains of corpses beneath the merciless sun.
Ash Deserts of the South. Dagoth’s dreamstorms collide with Baron’s bombing runs, turning the dunes into molten glass where only madness survives.
The Sky War. Baron’s fleets duel Qin skyballistae and Canadian frost-zeppelin squadrons, filling the skies with fire, ice, and smoke.
The Hidden Dream. Dagoth infiltrators spread visions in the courts of all three foes, whispering that the war is meaningless, that all already belongs to Dagoth. Some Qin generals wake in ash-coated beds. Some Dominion colonels preach sermons that are not their own.
The Civilian Struggle. Tribes, scavengers, and survivors suffer most. The Qin enslave them, Canada drafts them, Dagoth converts them, Baron bombs them. Every commoner dreams of escape—but there is no escape when four crowns war for eternity.
No power can claim victory. Each is too vast, too fanatical, too unwilling to bend. And yet each suffers. Qin armies stretch thin. Canada bleeds resources across frozen supply lines. Dagoth consumes itself in its dreams. Baron risks rebellion in the skies as conscripts tire of endless war.
And beneath it all, Evil Land itself seems to laugh. Creatures from the depths emerge to feed on battlefields. Lost Anunnaki artifacts surface among the ruins, shifting power overnight. Secret societies maneuver in shadows, awaiting the moment to strike when all four crowns bleed dry.
The war is eternal, but the end of it—should one ever come—will not be decided by kings or emperors, but by the land itself, and the unknown horrors still lurking within its shattered heart.
Would you like me to expand this further into a multi-front campaign breakdown (each region of Evil Land and how the war manifests there), or into a cast of named generals/commanders from each faction who embody the conflict?