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Chapter 13
Chapter 13: Revere the Queen, Expel the Pirates
08.01.2023
Decked out in full combat regalia, with the feathers on her royal headdress quivering in the sea breeze, Queen Lyssa of the Amazons looks down at her forces on the shore. Assembled on the south-eastern end of Amazon Island, the army snakes along the narrow shoreline between the jungle and the sea in order to accommodate over a thousand warrior women. Amongst them, priestesses and acolytes hammer home the importance of the task ahead of them: No longer shall infidel Easterners roam free on Amazon land with impunity! The Triad Islands and their holy sites shall be cleansed and restored to the divinely ordained rule of the Amazon people!
Looking along the lines of jaguar warriors, huntresses and shieldmaidens, the queen pretends to count them all. In her mind she already knows how many they are, however: Not enough. Ideally she would have her vassals' warbands here as well: Quetzlpan's barracuda lancers. Mamazo's tree runners. Even the Miyan cannon fodd– auxiliaries. Unfortunately, there is no gathering all those forces in a place like this – especially considering how she had just been keeping her army waiting for a week.
The furtive approach of her spymaster intrudes on Lyssa's thoughts. Rubbing her temple, the queen motions for Cassiopeia to speak.
“We have spotted a small pirate ship just off the coast, Your Highness,” the spymaster says warily, her eyes darting around as if pirates are watching her right now.
The queen smiles to herself and ignores the puzzled look she gets from Cassiopeia in return: “Close enough to spot our preparations?”
Cassiopeia nods apprehensively.
“Get the boats ready.”
“We might be able to catch them with three or four of our fastest–” the spymaster opines before she is cut off.
“All of them,” Lyssa says firmly. “We are moving up the Amaxon.”
Cassiopeia blinks, her mouth open in surprise: “But... that's... Your Highness, that's in the opposite direction.”
An impatient glare from her mistress quickly shuts up any further protest.
Finding the spymaster suitably cowed, Lyssa waves her off: “Oh and be a dear and get me Feidlimid, will you? I need her to stay behind; she has work to do here.”
Decked out in full combat regalia, with the feathers on her royal headdress quivering in the sea breeze, Queen Lyssa of the Amazons looks down at her forces on the shore. Assembled on the south-eastern end of Amazon Island, the army snakes along the narrow shoreline between the jungle and the sea in order to accommodate over a thousand warrior women. Amongst them, priestesses and acolytes hammer home the importance of the task ahead of them: No longer shall infidel Easterners roam free on Amazon land with impunity! The Triad Islands and their holy sites shall be cleansed and restored to the divinely ordained rule of the Amazon people!
Looking along the lines of jaguar warriors, huntresses and shieldmaidens, the queen pretends to count them all. In her mind she already knows how many they are, however: Not enough. Ideally she would have her vassals' warbands here as well: Quetzlpan's barracuda lancers. Mamazo's tree runners. Even the Miyan cannon fodd– auxiliaries. Unfortunately, there is no gathering all those forces in a place like this – especially considering how she had just been keeping her army waiting for a week.
The furtive approach of her spymaster intrudes on Lyssa's thoughts. Rubbing her temple, the queen motions for Cassiopeia to speak.
“We have spotted a small pirate ship just off the coast, Your Highness,” the spymaster says warily, her eyes darting around as if pirates are watching her right now.
The queen smiles to herself and ignores the puzzled look she gets from Cassiopeia in return: “Close enough to spot our preparations?”
Cassiopeia nods apprehensively.
“Get the boats ready.”
“We might be able to catch them with three or four of our fastest–” the spymaster opines before she is cut off.
“All of them,” Lyssa says firmly. “We are moving up the Amaxon.”
Cassiopeia blinks, her mouth open in surprise: “But... that's... Your Highness, that's in the opposite direction.”
An impatient glare from her mistress quickly shuts up any further protest.
Finding the spymaster suitably cowed, Lyssa waves her off: “Oh and be a dear and get me Feidlimid, will you? I need her to stay behind; she has work to do here.”
* * *
27.01.2023
“Shut yer face and get up there, lest ye want me ta be slappin' yer ugly mug from here to Cathay,” Ivo growls at one of his fellow pirates. The young man mutters under his breath and disappears up a ladder. This leaves the surly pirate with two of his companions around a rickety table in the makeshift guardhouse. Mugs of grog, tattered playing cards and haphazard piles of coins and more esoteric valuables cover all of the splintered wooden surface.
“I be surprised ta see ye be havin' such concern fer security all of a sudden, Ivo,” one of the card players – a lanky, olive-skinned woman – observes with a sly smirk.
Ivo's weather-beaten face scrunches up worse than if he had been taking a sip of whatever passed for booze on this island. The northern-most of the Three Islands in Elena's little pirate realm, Isola Saccheggio was at the ass-end of the ass-end of nowhere.
“Still got yer chemise in a wad o'er getting' ta sail with the others, eh?” The last of the pirates, an ancient-looking man with a scar running down his face wheezes jeeringly.
“Play or piss off, old man,” Ivo shoots back, burying his attention in his cards.
The pirate woman chuckles tauntingly: “Sure ye not be sendin' the boy up top just 'cause he be winnin'?” When she doesn't get a reply beyond a murderous gaze, she turns her head up to the open hatch leading to the lookout post: “Ain't that right, boy?”
Her yelling is met with more silence and she furrows her brow in displeasure over being ignored like this. “Hey I said–”
She is cut off when grog and coins are sent flying every which way as the poor table collapses violently. Recovering from their surprise, the three pirates reflexively clutch what valuables they can grab to their chests and look down on the lifeless body of their fourth player. Out of his neck sticks a peacock-feathered arrow of Amazon make.
“Shut yer face and get up there, lest ye want me ta be slappin' yer ugly mug from here to Cathay,” Ivo growls at one of his fellow pirates. The young man mutters under his breath and disappears up a ladder. This leaves the surly pirate with two of his companions around a rickety table in the makeshift guardhouse. Mugs of grog, tattered playing cards and haphazard piles of coins and more esoteric valuables cover all of the splintered wooden surface.
“I be surprised ta see ye be havin' such concern fer security all of a sudden, Ivo,” one of the card players – a lanky, olive-skinned woman – observes with a sly smirk.
Ivo's weather-beaten face scrunches up worse than if he had been taking a sip of whatever passed for booze on this island. The northern-most of the Three Islands in Elena's little pirate realm, Isola Saccheggio was at the ass-end of the ass-end of nowhere.
“Still got yer chemise in a wad o'er getting' ta sail with the others, eh?” The last of the pirates, an ancient-looking man with a scar running down his face wheezes jeeringly.
“Play or piss off, old man,” Ivo shoots back, burying his attention in his cards.
The pirate woman chuckles tauntingly: “Sure ye not be sendin' the boy up top just 'cause he be winnin'?” When she doesn't get a reply beyond a murderous gaze, she turns her head up to the open hatch leading to the lookout post: “Ain't that right, boy?”
Her yelling is met with more silence and she furrows her brow in displeasure over being ignored like this. “Hey I said–”
She is cut off when grog and coins are sent flying every which way as the poor table collapses violently. Recovering from their surprise, the three pirates reflexively clutch what valuables they can grab to their chests and look down on the lifeless body of their fourth player. Out of his neck sticks a peacock-feathered arrow of Amazon make.
Seeing the Amazon queen's army sail up the Amaxon to fight against their ancient lizardman enemies or something, the pirates of the Three Islands take the opportunity to raid with impunity. Eager to make up for their embarrassing loss in Zarmuda two years prior, they gather their ramshackle fleet and sail in force under their pirate princess Elena.
However, even as the pirates are preparing to leave their stronghold on Île Mêlée, the largest of the islands under their control, Lyssa turns her force around. Before Elena can lay eyes on Amazonia, the queen leads a surprise landing on Amazoc – the island the pirates call “Isola Saccheggio”. The isolated outpost falls quickly; too quickly for word to spread before Lyssa has gotten complete control of the island. With a beachhead secured, the queen's forces is finally joined by the warbands of the Amazon domains. Conspicuously absent is Matriarch Calypso, whose army is second only to Lyssa's. There is no time to dwell on this, however.
In the meantime, the pirate fleet lands on Amazon Island itself. The shoreline is completely abandoned, making their shipboard cannons useless, but affording them the opportunity to land unopposed. With the Amazon army nowhere to be seen, the sea thieves eagerly venture into the deep jungles looking for the fabled Amazon capital.
This indignity does not go unnoticed, watched as they are by unseen huntresses. And there is someone at Ganaina ready to harness the resulting outrage: As ordered by her queen, Feidlimid spreads the word of the pirates' transgression. Soon hundreds of warrior women and devout priestesses, not just from Amazonia but from Amazon tribes all over Lustria, congregate on Ganaina to repel the invaders.
They are nowhere near numerous enough to defeat a pirate horde numbering in the thousands, but they don't have to. Using the thick jungles to their advantage, they harass the bumbling pirates, luring them into danger and ultimately keeping them away from the holy city.
The weeks and months the pirate invaders are kept busy give Lyssa enough time to reorganize her forces and link up with her vassals. With these reinforcements, she confidently marches on Xocibiki – “Île Mêlée” to the heathens – and lays siege to the pirate's capital just as they attempt to seize hers. Conserving her forces, the queen has her commanders patiently flush out the pirate warrens one by one. There will be no repeat of the nasty surprises on Zarmuda. Infiltrators silence the enemy's cannons before they can be brought to bear and war canoes patrol the harbour to prevent anyone from escaping. Only once the ramshackle port town is secure does Lyssa set up camp to besiege the fortress that is the Pirate Princess's mansion. Without outside help, the beleaguered defenders are eventually forced to surrender.
09.08.2023
Still in her warrior's garb, Queen Lyssa slumps back in the nicely upholstered chair. Her spear and headdress have been discarded, replaced with a clear glass goblet of strange design. Her other hand clutches the finely carved dragon's head on the cushioned armrest for support. Her grip loosens, her fingers absently feeling the ridges in the wood.
The queen lets out a loud sigh and slips down in her seat. Technically the Pirate Princess's seat. The Pirate Princess's seat in the Pirate Princess's palace – if it could be called that. Taking a sip of the wine in her glass, she considers this situation. Partway through she is distracted by the rich taste and starts considering how much she's missed Easterner wine instead.
Approaching footsteps causes her drink goes down the wrong pipe – as if her mind can be read she feels caught in the act of falling prey to the allure of foreign things. Quickly recovering her composure, she straightens her indolent posture to greet the three women intruding on her contemplation. Big and fierce, her daughter Inanna stomps into the solar as if she is still on the battlefield. She is flanked by the lanky red-head Kriemhild and spymaster Cassiopeia.
“When are we heading out?” Inanna demands impatiently.
“There are more pirate hideouts to strike,” Kriemhild elaborates helpfully. After years together in the field she is used to having to make up for the Amazon princess's lack of communication skills.
“But what about our defences?” Cassiopeia frets.
As if baffled just by the concept, rather than get angry at the spymaster's impertinence, Inanna gives her a puzzled look: “Uh?”
“Word of our arrival will surely reach the pirate leader soon. I doubt she will sit idly by with enemy forces holding her seat of power.”
Lyssa considers Cassiopeia for a moment: the observation hits a bit too close to home. The latest word from Amazon Island is that pirates had seized and looted one of the outlying shrines. Deciding there is no surreptitious comparison between the two situations, Lyssa nods: “We should expect the pirate's to return soon.”
“Let them come!” Inanna barks confidently, then glances over at Cassiopeia: “Defences are for cowards.”
“Well...” Lyssa pauses and fixes her daughter with a firm gaze. Having caught everyone's full attention she continues: “...have you made preparations to head out then?”
“Yeah, but...” all three blurt out.
“Then we sail as soon as possible,” Lyssa says happily, emptying her recently conquered glass in one big gulp. Not caring one bit about the others' confusion she slips back in the recently conquered chair and closes her eyes. “Let me know as soon as we are ready to leave.”
Still in her warrior's garb, Queen Lyssa slumps back in the nicely upholstered chair. Her spear and headdress have been discarded, replaced with a clear glass goblet of strange design. Her other hand clutches the finely carved dragon's head on the cushioned armrest for support. Her grip loosens, her fingers absently feeling the ridges in the wood.
The queen lets out a loud sigh and slips down in her seat. Technically the Pirate Princess's seat. The Pirate Princess's seat in the Pirate Princess's palace – if it could be called that. Taking a sip of the wine in her glass, she considers this situation. Partway through she is distracted by the rich taste and starts considering how much she's missed Easterner wine instead.
Approaching footsteps causes her drink goes down the wrong pipe – as if her mind can be read she feels caught in the act of falling prey to the allure of foreign things. Quickly recovering her composure, she straightens her indolent posture to greet the three women intruding on her contemplation. Big and fierce, her daughter Inanna stomps into the solar as if she is still on the battlefield. She is flanked by the lanky red-head Kriemhild and spymaster Cassiopeia.
“When are we heading out?” Inanna demands impatiently.
“There are more pirate hideouts to strike,” Kriemhild elaborates helpfully. After years together in the field she is used to having to make up for the Amazon princess's lack of communication skills.
“But what about our defences?” Cassiopeia frets.
As if baffled just by the concept, rather than get angry at the spymaster's impertinence, Inanna gives her a puzzled look: “Uh?”
“Word of our arrival will surely reach the pirate leader soon. I doubt she will sit idly by with enemy forces holding her seat of power.”
Lyssa considers Cassiopeia for a moment: the observation hits a bit too close to home. The latest word from Amazon Island is that pirates had seized and looted one of the outlying shrines. Deciding there is no surreptitious comparison between the two situations, Lyssa nods: “We should expect the pirate's to return soon.”
“Let them come!” Inanna barks confidently, then glances over at Cassiopeia: “Defences are for cowards.”
“Well...” Lyssa pauses and fixes her daughter with a firm gaze. Having caught everyone's full attention she continues: “...have you made preparations to head out then?”
“Yeah, but...” all three blurt out.
“Then we sail as soon as possible,” Lyssa says happily, emptying her recently conquered glass in one big gulp. Not caring one bit about the others' confusion she slips back in the recently conquered chair and closes her eyes. “Let me know as soon as we are ready to leave.”
Leaving a token garrison at the pirate mansion, the Amazons set sail from Xocibiki. The queen chooses to abandon her conquest of the Triad Islands for now, but even if she doesn't dig in she does heed Cassiopeia's warning. She knows the pirate army is larger than hers – Calypso and her army still has not joined her – and doesn't fancy being shelled by enemy stone thrower tubes on the coast of Xocibiki. Instead, the Amazon army sets its course back to Amazon Island. Lyssa has no intention of being the first queen to somehow lose Ganaina to foreign invaders.
Arriving in the dead of night, the nimble Amazon war canoes slip past the pirate ships anchored off the coast – the shallow, treacherous waters around Amazon Island stops all but the smallest vessel from coming close to shore. Scattered in their search for plunder, the pirates are caught by surprise – doubly so when Ganaina's zealous defenders join the fray, pressing them from all sides.
The battle is close in terms of casualties – fire rods act as a good equalizer against superior Amazon skill – but the pirates loose cohesion. Soon it's every scoundrel for him or herself. The retreat is chaotic and plagued with infighting. Nevertheless, Lyssa commands her warriors to not carry the pursuit too far. Not as long as pirate cannons remain trained on the Amazonian coast.
* * *
02.09.2023
Lyssa curls her lip and waves the messenger to leave her quarters. The last days have allowed her and her warriors to enjoy their victory and rest and recuperate – even if the war is far from over. How typical she must be bothered by bad news so soon after returning to Ganaina.
Following the battle of Amazon Island – if it could even be called a battle – the pirates seem to have split off into more than one fleet. Certainly, not everyone went back to the Triad Islands...
“Your Bigness know why this thing is happen to her,” Quihuatzin says, allowing a touch of accusation into her voice. Despite being here in a servant capacity now, the halfling still carries fierce battle headdress. A wooden mask, carved into a skull and painted bone white is tucked under her arm.
Lyssa sighs. Far from coming to join her in battle as ordered, Calypso had apparently remained on Quetzl all this time. This is made evident by the fact that she is now holed up there, under siege by a pirate splinter fleet.
“I should've known...” Lyssa grumbles. She might have refused to see it, but after the zombie-infested horror of Zarmuda the brave Jaguar of the Sea was a changed woman. Perhaps it was getting wounded, perhaps it was just an effect of being stuck in the cursed city for so long. It didn't really matter...
“It is not the good thing for Your Bigness to have the marshal who has not the braveness to come to you with the help,” Quihuatzin warns her queen.
“I can't just... I don't have anyone who can replace her,” Lyssa counters. She knows it is a bit of a lie: Her daughter Inanna might be a bit too... single-minded, but she is preferable to someone who won't do her job.
Seeing Lyssa battling with herself, her Miyan servant and commander steps forward: “If Calypso no can do the job, I promise to make it done much better!” she declares firmly, before hastily adding: “For good of realm and Your Bigness, of course.”
Lyssa curls her lip and waves the messenger to leave her quarters. The last days have allowed her and her warriors to enjoy their victory and rest and recuperate – even if the war is far from over. How typical she must be bothered by bad news so soon after returning to Ganaina.
Following the battle of Amazon Island – if it could even be called a battle – the pirates seem to have split off into more than one fleet. Certainly, not everyone went back to the Triad Islands...
“Your Bigness know why this thing is happen to her,” Quihuatzin says, allowing a touch of accusation into her voice. Despite being here in a servant capacity now, the halfling still carries fierce battle headdress. A wooden mask, carved into a skull and painted bone white is tucked under her arm.
Lyssa sighs. Far from coming to join her in battle as ordered, Calypso had apparently remained on Quetzl all this time. This is made evident by the fact that she is now holed up there, under siege by a pirate splinter fleet.
“I should've known...” Lyssa grumbles. She might have refused to see it, but after the zombie-infested horror of Zarmuda the brave Jaguar of the Sea was a changed woman. Perhaps it was getting wounded, perhaps it was just an effect of being stuck in the cursed city for so long. It didn't really matter...
“It is not the good thing for Your Bigness to have the marshal who has not the braveness to come to you with the help,” Quihuatzin warns her queen.
“I can't just... I don't have anyone who can replace her,” Lyssa counters. She knows it is a bit of a lie: Her daughter Inanna might be a bit too... single-minded, but she is preferable to someone who won't do her job.
Seeing Lyssa battling with herself, her Miyan servant and commander steps forward: “If Calypso no can do the job, I promise to make it done much better!” she declares firmly, before hastily adding: “For good of realm and Your Bigness, of course.”
TFW a halfling in a funny hat is a better general than your proud Amazon marshal
Turning around, Lyssa fixes the Miyan halfling with a furious look: “So you think you could do a better job than the Jaguar of the Sea?” she growls. Perhaps it is the way this half-person cockily assumes she can perform these duties better than a true Amazon. Perhaps she cannot bear the thought of stripping Calypso of her position. The thoughts intrude on her anger, annoying her even more. For a moment she even considers accepting Quihuatzin's suggestion. Still... if not that proposal, perhaps it is best to offer the position to Kriemhild... The queen shakes her head: On the other hand, can she afford to anger the most powerful Matriarch of her realm?
Eventually nodding to herself, Lyssa seems to have found an answer: “Get a bird ready,” she bids the halfling, the tone of her voice firmly burying the Miyan's request.
Quihuatzin meets her mistress's gaze before grudgingly averting her eyes. “As Your Bigness commands...” she mutters and shuffles out of the queen's quarters.
Eventually nodding to herself, Lyssa seems to have found an answer: “Get a bird ready,” she bids the halfling, the tone of her voice firmly burying the Miyan's request.
Quihuatzin meets her mistress's gaze before grudgingly averting her eyes. “As Your Bigness commands...” she mutters and shuffles out of the queen's quarters.
- 1
That halfling is a plucky one, no doubt.
The pirates seem to be like an itch that doesn't go away. Let's hope they can be dealt with swiftly...
The pirates seem to be like an itch that doesn't go away. Let's hope they can be dealt with swiftly...
She's got spunk. I'm not so sure if Lyssa likes spunk.
They will surely feel the Queen's wrath! ...as soon as she's done chilling in her palace for a bit. The cuisine on Pirate Island left something to be desired, in her opinion.
Chapter 14
Chapter 14: Closing the Circle
Calypso's capital of Quetzl under siege by pirates
06.09.2023
The small stone table is empty, save for a tiny scroll in the centre. Sitting beside it, the Matriarch Calypso seems to be leaning back as far away from it as possible – as if the message was a coiled viper. She eyes it with a look of weary concern she seems to have kept up for a while.
Uneasily she rubs her abdomen, exposed under her short breastplate: Despite her fidgeting she is dressed for war. For now the defences hold, but the enemy is still camped outside. With her warband battered and scattered there is no way to break out – certainly not past the enemy ships.
Furrowing her brow, Calypso addresses the inanimate message on the table: “There is no leaving now...”
There is regret in her voice – or is it embarrassment. Closing her eyes, the Matriarch opens them again with a sigh. Heaving herself forward she snatches up the scroll and unfurls it.
“I have been informed of your situation,” it reads. The script is not the carefully rendered characters of a scribe, but the scrawled symbols of a private letter. “It is much to my dismay that we have not been able to fight together in battle. Especially considering the position you have... ended up in.” The disapproving pause is evident from the break in the cursive even if not explicitly written out.
Calypso clenches her jaw, but cannot bring herself to protest the thinly veiled accusations. Not even to a piece of parchment. Guilty as charged.
“Still, that is not the reason I write to you,” the message continues. “Rather it is to tell you that I will not subject you to my intervention again. May Rigg steel your resolve against your besiegers, Callie. -Lyssa”
Looking up from the scribbled note, Calypso considers its words. Abandoned to her fate. The thought makes her smile widely: Abandoned and given a second chance to prove herself.
The small stone table is empty, save for a tiny scroll in the centre. Sitting beside it, the Matriarch Calypso seems to be leaning back as far away from it as possible – as if the message was a coiled viper. She eyes it with a look of weary concern she seems to have kept up for a while.
Uneasily she rubs her abdomen, exposed under her short breastplate: Despite her fidgeting she is dressed for war. For now the defences hold, but the enemy is still camped outside. With her warband battered and scattered there is no way to break out – certainly not past the enemy ships.
Furrowing her brow, Calypso addresses the inanimate message on the table: “There is no leaving now...”
There is regret in her voice – or is it embarrassment. Closing her eyes, the Matriarch opens them again with a sigh. Heaving herself forward she snatches up the scroll and unfurls it.
“I have been informed of your situation,” it reads. The script is not the carefully rendered characters of a scribe, but the scrawled symbols of a private letter. “It is much to my dismay that we have not been able to fight together in battle. Especially considering the position you have... ended up in.” The disapproving pause is evident from the break in the cursive even if not explicitly written out.
Calypso clenches her jaw, but cannot bring herself to protest the thinly veiled accusations. Not even to a piece of parchment. Guilty as charged.
“Still, that is not the reason I write to you,” the message continues. “Rather it is to tell you that I will not subject you to my intervention again. May Rigg steel your resolve against your besiegers, Callie. -Lyssa”
Looking up from the scribbled note, Calypso considers its words. Abandoned to her fate. The thought makes her smile widely: Abandoned and given a second chance to prove herself.
* * *
Even with pirates on Amazon soil, Lyssa takes her time reorganizing and resupplying her forces. Despite Calypso failing to come to her aid earlier, the queen seems to put a lot of faith in the Matriarch being able to hold out against her attackers – and keep them occupied.
As the Amazon army embarks their war canoes once more, this faith seems well-placed so far. The pirate band ravaging Quetzl fails to return to the Triad Islands to join forces with the remaining pirates. Nevertheless, even without a united enemy army to face her, Lyssa moves carefully. Rather than assault the enemy at every turn, she chooses to pick her battles. Keeping her army moving she only engages favourably, slowly whittling down the enemy defences. There is no great decisive battle that year. By the same token, there are no opportunities for a terrible upset like the humiliating defeat against the Xahutec lizardmen.
Rather than give the pirates a chance to swing the war in their favour, Lyssa commands her forces to whittle down their defences. The Amazons thoroughly flush them out of their holes and clear their presence from the Triad Islands. Captives are liberated and tiny groups of free Amazons still hidden deep in the central jungles of Xocibiki – the largest of the islands – are brought back into the fold.
Lyssa
Being forced on the defensive like this does not seem to sit well with the pirates at all. The less belligerent of them simply begin to give up and accept their new Amazon overlords. The saltier sea dogs start slipping away to greener tides...
Having subdued two out of the three islands of Kavana, at the end of 2024 Lyssa sets out to complete her conquest. Just as her forces land on the middle island a message arrives: The pirate princess Elena has fled the archipelago altogether! Tail between her legs she has accepted the writing on the wall and admitted defeat.
"I am rubber, you are glue."
The careful, year-long campaign waged by Lyssa might not be the stuff of legends, but the accomplishment certainly is: Finally the Amazons have some restitution for the horrors of the Great Raid. Finally the islands of Amaxon Bay are free. Not only free but united. The pirates have been beaten and their vaunted leader has fled to the nearby infamous hive of scum and villainy, Port Reaver.
The new borders of Amazonia, with the pirate haven of Port Reaver, top left
Now that the scoundrels are broken and leaderless, the next challenge is dealing with the survivors. Even with many of the most die-hard marauders leaving for Port Reaver and other places, many remain. Not to mention the adventurous civilians and inevitable hangers-on that have been flocking to the Triad Islands over the years. Fascinated by the Old Worlders' tall war canoes, Lyssa have had the remaining pirate ships confiscated – no one is leaving the islands now.
Certainly these filthy foreigners must be dealt with most harshly – if only to keep recently reconquered Kavana under control. Before the matter can even be brought up properly, news arrive that interrupt the queen where she basks in the glory of her achievement.
Why does it always have to be rebels?
An almost panicked message arrives from the tiny garrison at Zarmuda: Surviving bands of pirates have descended on the island. More outlandishly they evidently have not coalesced around the most conventional leader: According to the curt warning the one leading this rebellion is nothing less than a pirate necromancer.
The pirates may have been defeated in the Triad Islands, but now they stir up trouble in Zarmuda... and the dead stir with them!
- 1
Pirate necromancer? Pirates are troublesome enough when they aren't metaphorically(?) cannibalizing their own dead to fill out the ranks...
Pirates are troublesome enough when they aren't metaphorically(?) cannibalizing their own dead to fill out the ranks...
A constant source of renewable target practice for untested shieldmaidens
It really is quite unsporting. These guys need to learn when they've been beat!Pirate necromancer?
Chapter 15
Chapter 15: Root and Branch
04.01.2025
What a way to start the new year!
Standing on a balcony on the recently seized governor's mansion, Queen Lyssa of Amazonia looks down at the harbour below. No longer the pirate haven of Île Mêlée, the island is now once again Xocibiki, the largest of the three islands of Kavana.
Adventurers and would-be conquerors have had their way with these islands for decades. For one, some group or another built the elegant manor from which the queen now surveys her expanded domain. The subsequent pirate occupation has been surprisingly kind to the small palace: despite her rogue affiliations, its former owner seems to have appreciated living in civilized conditions.
Now the question becomes, what is Lyssa to do with the place – and the rest of Kavana. Inside, her advisers await her decision. However a more pressing issue has presented itself. In Kavana, the pirates have been defeated and imprisoned, only for others to rise up in Zarmuda to the north.
Lyssa sighs and her eyes roam the polished wood railing, landing on the goblet standing beside her. After all this hard work she has not even been afforded the opportunity to kick back and enjoy the mansion's well-stocked wine cellar. Still, there is no helping it now. The queen pushes back, snatches up her cup of wine and returns to her council.
“The Zarmudan threat has to be dealt with as soon as possible,” she announces as she steps inside. She empties her cup and nods towards Kriemhild, acknowledging her second-in-command's earlier concerns: “That means returning to replenish our forces.”
“But...” As usual, Cassiopeia's eyes dart around the room before continuing. Presumably finding no hidden assassins or spies, she elaborates: “...is it wise to leave these islands to their own devices?”
Lyssa shakes her head. Not only are the islands full of captured pirates, but there are also numerous non-combatant Old Worlders left over from myriads of expeditions and failed colonies. A small smile creeps onto her lips as she replies: “Azu tells me work on the fortifications at Zalli has been slowing down... I think bringing over a few pirates as slaves will help speed things up. As for the rest... I don't have time to deal with the other foreigners right now. Just make sure they understand they'd better not cause any trouble and let the native tribes can handle them.”
“The Amazons here have good reason to seek revenge...” Kriemhild observes, clenching her fist.
“Exactly,” Lyssa smirks. “The foreigners would do well to avoid inviting it upon themselves.”
Cassiopeia taps her lip: “We might be able to convince some of them to operate the large pirate war canoes. We won't be able to fit all those prisoners on ours.” She presents the idea with due reluctance, uncertain if allowing this constitutes heresy.
For her part, Lyssa receives the suggestion with more enthusiasm: “Good thinking. Round up some of the less unsavoury women and put them to work. And make sure a few bright shieldmaidens watch them closely.” The queen winks at her spymaster: “Who knows, they might learn a thing or two...”
“As you command, Your Highness.” If Cassiopeia harbours any doubts about this, she does not show them.
“Excellent. Start loading up the slaves as soon as possible.” Lyssa's eyes flit down to her empty goblet: “Oh... and do make sure there is room to bring the mansion's... provisions.”
What a way to start the new year!
Standing on a balcony on the recently seized governor's mansion, Queen Lyssa of Amazonia looks down at the harbour below. No longer the pirate haven of Île Mêlée, the island is now once again Xocibiki, the largest of the three islands of Kavana.
Adventurers and would-be conquerors have had their way with these islands for decades. For one, some group or another built the elegant manor from which the queen now surveys her expanded domain. The subsequent pirate occupation has been surprisingly kind to the small palace: despite her rogue affiliations, its former owner seems to have appreciated living in civilized conditions.
Now the question becomes, what is Lyssa to do with the place – and the rest of Kavana. Inside, her advisers await her decision. However a more pressing issue has presented itself. In Kavana, the pirates have been defeated and imprisoned, only for others to rise up in Zarmuda to the north.
Lyssa sighs and her eyes roam the polished wood railing, landing on the goblet standing beside her. After all this hard work she has not even been afforded the opportunity to kick back and enjoy the mansion's well-stocked wine cellar. Still, there is no helping it now. The queen pushes back, snatches up her cup of wine and returns to her council.
“The Zarmudan threat has to be dealt with as soon as possible,” she announces as she steps inside. She empties her cup and nods towards Kriemhild, acknowledging her second-in-command's earlier concerns: “That means returning to replenish our forces.”
“But...” As usual, Cassiopeia's eyes dart around the room before continuing. Presumably finding no hidden assassins or spies, she elaborates: “...is it wise to leave these islands to their own devices?”
Lyssa shakes her head. Not only are the islands full of captured pirates, but there are also numerous non-combatant Old Worlders left over from myriads of expeditions and failed colonies. A small smile creeps onto her lips as she replies: “Azu tells me work on the fortifications at Zalli has been slowing down... I think bringing over a few pirates as slaves will help speed things up. As for the rest... I don't have time to deal with the other foreigners right now. Just make sure they understand they'd better not cause any trouble and let the native tribes can handle them.”
“The Amazons here have good reason to seek revenge...” Kriemhild observes, clenching her fist.
“Exactly,” Lyssa smirks. “The foreigners would do well to avoid inviting it upon themselves.”
Cassiopeia taps her lip: “We might be able to convince some of them to operate the large pirate war canoes. We won't be able to fit all those prisoners on ours.” She presents the idea with due reluctance, uncertain if allowing this constitutes heresy.
For her part, Lyssa receives the suggestion with more enthusiasm: “Good thinking. Round up some of the less unsavoury women and put them to work. And make sure a few bright shieldmaidens watch them closely.” The queen winks at her spymaster: “Who knows, they might learn a thing or two...”
“As you command, Your Highness.” If Cassiopeia harbours any doubts about this, she does not show them.
“Excellent. Start loading up the slaves as soon as possible.” Lyssa's eyes flit down to her empty goblet: “Oh... and do make sure there is room to bring the mansion's... provisions.”
* * *
11.02.2025
Back in her plush throne in Ganaina, there is no time for Queen Lyssa to simply enjoy the spoils of her conquest while her army recovers and rebuilds. Indeed she still finds herself harried by councillors and advisers. Even now, a handful stand before her, seemingly awaiting a solution for all the world's ills from her mouth.
Instead the queen tosses a sparkling biscuit into said mouth. “Liberated” from the pirate princess's mansion, the finger-sized treat is almost sickeningly sweet, but after a few dozen she has decided that they go quite well with a particularly potent wine also rescued from the same place.
Tapping the now-empty platter – a delicate silver creation of Old World make – Lyssa speaks at last to the assembled onlookers: “Are there any more?”
Kriemhild blinks. Cassiopeia bites her lip. Feidlimid the priestess sighs. Inanna looks clueless as usual. Only Azu maintains a neutral expression: “I am afraid not.” A hope that the meeting will now move forward colours her voice.
“I bet Maya ate 'em,” Inanna shrugs, not unreasonably putting the blame with her hedonistic older sister.
“So... about the governance of Kavana...” Azu ventures, trying to steer the conversation back to the recently liberated islands.
The queen nods firmly: “Indeed. We can't let the foreigners there remain unchecked, even if they are no real threat.” She taps her lip and muses: “Maybe we could bring over someone who knows how to make these pastries...”
Paying the queen's idle thoughts no heed, Kriemhild speaks up: “We can't spare the warriors to watch that many slaves.” The fierce redhead lets it remain unspoken, but her aggressive tone makes it clear: She wants to use those warriors to crush the insurrection in Zarmuda.
“Then we need to control the islands some other way...” Cassiopeia frets.
“Quite the quandary...” Azu agrees.
“Exactly,” Lyssa grumbles and starts looking around for something: “Surely your queen cannot be expected to solve this on an empty stomach. Ah there you are, Quihuatzin. Where's that sweet fruit paste we brought from Xocibiki?”
The halfling curtsies hurriedly as she enters the throne hall: “Have the apologies, Your Bigness. I did the search over all, but the fruit is been going to the room of your daughter.”
Lyssa's face hardens, firm but for a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. The congregation watches with bated breath. Eventually, the queen presses her hand against her forehead and groans. Exasperation reverberates throughout the chamber.
“Yes...” she finally manages to hiss through clenched teeth. “It is high time we got things in order.” Folding her hands in her lap, the queen reaffirms her royal mien. “I have decided that my daughter Maya will go to Xocibiki to manage the town there.”
“But Your Highness...” Feidlimid blurts out, “...your daughter is...” She dares not elaborate on the queen's eldest daughter's disgraced status.
“Yes, yes,” Lyssa dismisses the concerns of her court priestess with a wave. “I know, only a true Amazon may lead an Amazon or hold position in a tribe and all that. The Easterners are hardly Amazons, nor a tribe now are they?”
“Well, that is true, but...”
Leaning back, smugness over having resolved the pressing problem radiating off her face, Lyssa would content herself to having settled things once and for all. However, she quickly has another stroke of genius: “Ah yes, there's the matter of the pirate fort on Tabazco. For her loyalty and skill I shall allow Feidlimid and the Sisterhood to oversee it.”
“Oh! Th-thank you, Your Highness?” The priestess bows her head, uncertain if this is an honour or not. She leans towards it indeed being one.
Feeling no need to follow up on that declaration, Lyssa moves on: “Azu, go tell that greedy brat of a princess to get ready to leave as soon as possible. Oh, and you should probably go with her. I hear you've done well in Catlmox. I would like to see you have as much success in making Kavana proper Amazon land once more as well.”
Back in her plush throne in Ganaina, there is no time for Queen Lyssa to simply enjoy the spoils of her conquest while her army recovers and rebuilds. Indeed she still finds herself harried by councillors and advisers. Even now, a handful stand before her, seemingly awaiting a solution for all the world's ills from her mouth.
Instead the queen tosses a sparkling biscuit into said mouth. “Liberated” from the pirate princess's mansion, the finger-sized treat is almost sickeningly sweet, but after a few dozen she has decided that they go quite well with a particularly potent wine also rescued from the same place.
Tapping the now-empty platter – a delicate silver creation of Old World make – Lyssa speaks at last to the assembled onlookers: “Are there any more?”
Kriemhild blinks. Cassiopeia bites her lip. Feidlimid the priestess sighs. Inanna looks clueless as usual. Only Azu maintains a neutral expression: “I am afraid not.” A hope that the meeting will now move forward colours her voice.
“I bet Maya ate 'em,” Inanna shrugs, not unreasonably putting the blame with her hedonistic older sister.
“So... about the governance of Kavana...” Azu ventures, trying to steer the conversation back to the recently liberated islands.
The queen nods firmly: “Indeed. We can't let the foreigners there remain unchecked, even if they are no real threat.” She taps her lip and muses: “Maybe we could bring over someone who knows how to make these pastries...”
Paying the queen's idle thoughts no heed, Kriemhild speaks up: “We can't spare the warriors to watch that many slaves.” The fierce redhead lets it remain unspoken, but her aggressive tone makes it clear: She wants to use those warriors to crush the insurrection in Zarmuda.
“Then we need to control the islands some other way...” Cassiopeia frets.
“Quite the quandary...” Azu agrees.
“Exactly,” Lyssa grumbles and starts looking around for something: “Surely your queen cannot be expected to solve this on an empty stomach. Ah there you are, Quihuatzin. Where's that sweet fruit paste we brought from Xocibiki?”
The halfling curtsies hurriedly as she enters the throne hall: “Have the apologies, Your Bigness. I did the search over all, but the fruit is been going to the room of your daughter.”
Lyssa's face hardens, firm but for a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. The congregation watches with bated breath. Eventually, the queen presses her hand against her forehead and groans. Exasperation reverberates throughout the chamber.
“Yes...” she finally manages to hiss through clenched teeth. “It is high time we got things in order.” Folding her hands in her lap, the queen reaffirms her royal mien. “I have decided that my daughter Maya will go to Xocibiki to manage the town there.”
“But Your Highness...” Feidlimid blurts out, “...your daughter is...” She dares not elaborate on the queen's eldest daughter's disgraced status.
“Yes, yes,” Lyssa dismisses the concerns of her court priestess with a wave. “I know, only a true Amazon may lead an Amazon or hold position in a tribe and all that. The Easterners are hardly Amazons, nor a tribe now are they?”
“Well, that is true, but...”
Leaning back, smugness over having resolved the pressing problem radiating off her face, Lyssa would content herself to having settled things once and for all. However, she quickly has another stroke of genius: “Ah yes, there's the matter of the pirate fort on Tabazco. For her loyalty and skill I shall allow Feidlimid and the Sisterhood to oversee it.”
“Oh! Th-thank you, Your Highness?” The priestess bows her head, uncertain if this is an honour or not. She leans towards it indeed being one.
Feeling no need to follow up on that declaration, Lyssa moves on: “Azu, go tell that greedy brat of a princess to get ready to leave as soon as possible. Oh, and you should probably go with her. I hear you've done well in Catlmox. I would like to see you have as much success in making Kavana proper Amazon land once more as well.”
With trustworthy, competent people – and also Maya – in the Triad Islands of Kavana, the queen can focus on ending the insurrection in Zarmuda. However, with foul magic afoot and an army – living and dead – numbering in the thousands, the pirate grave defilers are not to be trifled with.
After the years of campaigning against pirate princess Elena, the Amazon army needs time to recover – and increase its numbers if a sea landing can hope to be successful.
Then there is the matter of moving such a force. The number of war canoes needed would be staggering. Under Cassiopeia's watchful gaze, a number of Amazon sailors study the workings of the much larger Old World canoes. If made to serve Rigg's will, each of these big-bellied boats could ferry as many warriors as ten Amazon canoes or more.
Over the following months, an impressive invasion force numbering nearly four thousand is prepared. Pirate ships are crewed by Amazons and impressed foreigners under strict supervision. Chief Priestess Harmothoe of Rigg's Shrine in Ganaina grumbles that it is tantamount to sending slaves into war, but the Sisterhood does not stop the practice.
Finally the day comes that the Amazons may sail to war once more. Although quite happy to stay at her palace now that the “competition” there has been evicted, Lyssa calls up her warriors to ride the waves with her – after the year's Serena ritual.
08.07.2025
Sinking low in her seat, Lyssa swirls the contents of her goblet. As the whirlpool of wine subsides, she glances around the roughly hewn cabin. The captured ship she is aboard is but a humble merchant barge, sloppily maintained by pirates for years. Still, there is no denying it is a much more comfortable way to travel than an open war canoe.
Just in case, the queen empties her cup to steel herself against the unfamiliar rolling of the ship. Before she can more than consider getting a refill, however, the door to the small cabin opens brusquely.
“My queen, we have spotted Zarmuda!”
Lyssa scurries up in her seat trying to get into a slightly more dignified position. “Ah, of course. I'll be right with you...”
Stepping out on the deck, the queen wraps her royal robe tightly around herself against the cold – perhaps even a bit too tightly when she thinks about it.
“There are dead things everywhere,” one of the huntresses on deck exclaims. “Dead things that move.”
“Ugh...” Lyssa groans. She never thought she'd have to go back to this accursed place. Dumping it on Calypso had obviously not worked out.
“They're coming this way... down the broken walls. Wait... what's that?”
Following the other Amazon's gaze, Lyssa squints into the distance. Now she can see that there are someone ahead of the shambling horde, running across the broken ground of the sunken city as fast they can.
“Amazons!” Lyssa exclaims.
“Get a canoe over there!”
Sinking low in her seat, Lyssa swirls the contents of her goblet. As the whirlpool of wine subsides, she glances around the roughly hewn cabin. The captured ship she is aboard is but a humble merchant barge, sloppily maintained by pirates for years. Still, there is no denying it is a much more comfortable way to travel than an open war canoe.
Just in case, the queen empties her cup to steel herself against the unfamiliar rolling of the ship. Before she can more than consider getting a refill, however, the door to the small cabin opens brusquely.
“My queen, we have spotted Zarmuda!”
Lyssa scurries up in her seat trying to get into a slightly more dignified position. “Ah, of course. I'll be right with you...”
Stepping out on the deck, the queen wraps her royal robe tightly around herself against the cold – perhaps even a bit too tightly when she thinks about it.
“There are dead things everywhere,” one of the huntresses on deck exclaims. “Dead things that move.”
“Ugh...” Lyssa groans. She never thought she'd have to go back to this accursed place. Dumping it on Calypso had obviously not worked out.
“They're coming this way... down the broken walls. Wait... what's that?”
Following the other Amazon's gaze, Lyssa squints into the distance. Now she can see that there are someone ahead of the shambling horde, running across the broken ground of the sunken city as fast they can.
“Amazons!” Lyssa exclaims.
“Get a canoe over there!”
Rescued from the azure waters in the nick of time, the Amazons turn out to be fourteen survivors from a scouting mission sent from Quetzlpan. However, before Lyssa can appreciate Matriarch Calypso's proactiveness, the lead scout gasps a warning: The enemy has been diligently raising their own dead, the fallen of the Battle of Zarmuda... and even plundered the deeper catacombs for skeletal remains. Their numbers have swelled to at least twice their anticipated number. And now they stand ready to throw the badly outnumbered Amazons back into the sea...
- 1
Fighting the dead is always so troublesome and tricksy.
Rather nice way of divvying up the island - killing several birds with one stone it sounds like.
Rather nice way of divvying up the island - killing several birds with one stone it sounds like.
Lyssa might have found an appealing way to deal with her problems. Delegate and dispatch.
Too bad these zombies don't seem too willing to be dispatched to their final rest...
Chapter 16
Chapter 16: The Circle of Death
08.07.2025
From the top of the tallest of Zarmuda's crumbling pyramids, a hard-faced man watches the Amazon ships turn around. Not one to allow himself even a small smile, instead he nods slightly.
“The heathens flee at the sight of our righteous might.”
A slender woman steps towards him as he speaks. Her dress is one that can be seen in many a seedy Sartosian tavern, but with its hemline moved significantly upwards for extra mobility – and better access to the sturdy pistols strapped to her thighs.
“So... we be goin' after them, aye?”
The man sighs. “We only follow the memory of the great King Charles and the will of Monkeigh Island,” he admonishes her.
“I don't be seein' yer dead master fillin' the pockets of me boys and girls,” the pirate captain complains. “I've had it up to here with dank labyrinths and walkin' corpses.”
“Don't insult the master's creations.”
A soft chuckle, like crumbling parchment, interrupts them.
“Ah would not dream zat you would accord moi such respect, Gaspare.” Dressed in rotting clothes that may once have been the height of fashion at Old World courts, a sallow-skinned man shuffles onto the ruined platform. Under his arm, a huge tome inlaid with eerie gems that pulse with a sickening green light. In his other hand, a grisly sceptre of bones.
“Mind your place, necromancer,” Gaspare shoots back. “And don't forget it was I who provided you King Charles' grimoire.”
“Quite so.” A thin smile spreads on the newcomer's cracked lips. “And yet, Ah am ze one you need to, 'ow you say... utilize it.”
Gaspare turns away, teeth clenched.
“Oh...” The necromancer seems to glide over, putting a gnarled hand on the sullen man's shoulder. “...and don't you forget your true benefactor.” Gaspare can hear bones creak as his creepy associate leans in close enough to whisper in his ear: “Ah would not recommend upsetting my master. Remember: ze Amazons... zey must be destroyed.”
Gaspare, a gentleman and a scholar. Well, scholar and fanatical believer in Vampiric superiority
Throwing themselves against the abominations of Zarmuda would no doubt have brought the Amazons glorious battle, but also glorious death. Or perhaps not so glorious... After all, should they die within those accursed ruins, would they not find their bodies desecrated just like the walking corpses they set out to fight?
This is the rhetorical question with which Lyssa pre-empts any protests to her decision. She is to be the one to reunite the Amazon tribes, not splinter her people against the crumbling walls of a sunken city.
However, she still has an army numbering in the thousands expecting to see battle, crammed onto ships and war canoes. Instead of sailing straight back to Ganaina with all that pent-up aggression, Lyssa turns her fleet east. Hugging the Tarantula Coast, the Amazons arrive at the mouth of the Lambada river that drains the Mosquito Swamps. Here, the river and surrounded bogs create a small strip of coastline where the Lizardmen are loathe to thread. For the Amazons, this wedge between the temple cities of Xahutec and Tlax holds easier prey: Miyan halflings to plunder and enslave.
The Lambada river, between the Lizardman temple cities of Tlax and Xahutec – with Amazonia to the nort-west.
The Miyan domain of Lambada musters its armies to repel the invaders, but against a force of this size they have no chance to throw the Amazons off their beachhead. From there, the swampy ground and treacherous river makes for slow going. Eager to get into the fight, the Amazons persevere, raiding Miyan villages hidden in the swamp.
* * *
12.11.2025
Harmothoe, chief priestess of Rigg's shrine in the Amazon capital of Ganaina, grumbles unintelligibly to herself. She has made no secret of her dislike of the queen's ways, but this particular slight feels more personal. Rather than accompany the others raiding the Lambada basin, she had been dropped off with a few hundred warriors – purportedly because the queen would not dare offend Rigg by keeping Harmothoe away from her religious duties.
With the queen taking all the boats and ships, the last few months for Harmothoe have been spent trudging through the jungle towards Ganaina. Now finally Amazon Island is within sight as they break through the thick vegetation and onto the shores of Zinmayaotl. Though, the island is not the only thing in sight...
The priestess's lips curls as she looks down from the outcropping above the rocky beach. Off the shore are half a dozen rickety ships flying the skull and crossbones. Below, pirates are rowing towards them. Some have already made landfall.
"Weapons at the ready," she hisses, gesturing to point out the enemy to the warriors. "Even if our... queen will not deign to defend our sacred homeland, we will do what is needed. Let us throw them back into the sea!"
"Uhm, priestess... what is that?"
One of Harmothoe's bodyguards points to the pirates unhooking large nets that have been trailing behind their boats. Their catch splashes wildly in the shallows as it is freed. Harmothoe's brow furrows as the sea starts settle once more. Then the heads start appearing.
Shuffling with their unnatural gait, the floating corpses find their bearings and march onto the land. Waterlogged but otherwise no worse for wear after their unconventional transportation, the living dead swarm to outnumber the actually living several times over. Thousands, crawling all over the shoreline.
Harmothoe closes her eyes, touching her forehead with a groan. "Fine... someone send out a call to Her Highness..."
"Yo ho and a bottle of braaains..."
* * *
03.12.2025
Lifting his hand-and-half sword, Gaspare takes stock of the situation. Ahead, the vegetation opens slightly. Trees give way to ferns and shrubs on the uneven ground, leaving no refuge in the branches from which the Amazons can harry his troops. No large roots for clumsy corpses to stumble over.
Pointing his blade towards the large, semi-circular bowl in the hillside before them, Gaspare yells for his underlings to charge. Immediately he follows his own order, leading the pursuit from the front.
On the run for weeks, the hopelessly outnumbered Amazons falter in their desperate retreat. With no vantage point from which to harass the enemy, any attempt at a rearguard action to slow the implacable horde is futile: Anyone who fall behind simply vanish among the dead, the shambling monstrosities not missing a step in their single-minded determination.
Ahead of the undead legion, the remaining Amazons are all but climbing now as their only escape route grows ever steeper. Gritting her teeth, Harmothoe grabs a stray root for leverage. She does not waste a second looking behind herself: There is nothing to be done for whoever lag behind. Better to leave them to their fate so that the rest may live.
Nor does she need eyes to know that the enemy is coming closer. The uncanny moans and unnatural growls behind her grow ever closer. She needs to go faster. Mustering the last of her reserves she breaks into something of a molasses jog. Her eyes crest the steep hill at last and then... in one split second of distraction one sandaled foot gives way under her. Tumbling forward, Harmothoe throws her hands forward, desperate to grab onto anything lest she slide back down to the hungry maws of the dead.
Out of nowhere, a hand grabs the priestess's outstretched arm, keeping her from falling flat on her face. "Well done," a jovial voice calls out.
Harmothoe's gaze drifts upward. It lands on the face of the Queen kneeling above her and the priestess dies a little inside.
"You bought us enough time to march out of sight of the pirate fleet," Lyssa explains as she pulls Harmothoe to her feet. "Now... we'll do our part."
Upon the queen's command, the wooded crescent overlooking the undead pirates erupt in a storm of missile fire. Using javelins rather than bows and slings, the sheer weight of the onslaught tears chunks of dead flesh. Spears embed themselves in rotting bodies, hindering the already clumsy zombies further.
The relentless advance breaks down into disorder and confusion – if such a mental state can be attributed to walking corpses. With Harmothoe now at her side, the queen gives the next order: "Fire!"
Rather than javelins, this time the Amazons throw literal fire. Hundreds of incendiary pots rain down on the milling horde below. Clothes and hair quickly catch fire, but rot-bloated bodies explosively so. Hemmed in by hills and attacks from three sides, the burning dead stumble into each other, spreading the fire and erupting in clouds of flaming miasma.
Only when the carnage is complete do the Amazons break from their defensive position. On the flanks, princess Inanna and the up-and-coming Kriemhild lead the charge, crashing into the broken enemy ranks.
Even after crashing, burning, against the well-placed Amazon lines the pirate army still numbers in the thousands – living and dead. The battle swings decisively in the Amazons' favour, but the undead do not break ranks even as they are effortlessly cut down.
- 1
I always like the idea of undead pirates for some reason, and when I saw them in the chapter I had the biggest grin on my face.
There are few advantages in war greater than those that come with engaging the enemy on ground of one's own choosing -- a fact Lyssa demonstrates all too well here.
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Thanks! It took a bit of planning to get enough info across, but not go overboard. Though I'm sure some people wouldn't mind a few more paragraphs on the living dead
*looks below*Fingers crossed they won't be defeated any time soon, so that you may keep that grin...?
I'm happy to have scratched that particular itch!An ambush might not be as honourable as open battle, but nothing brings more honour than victory (in the name of Rigg!)
Chapter 17
Chapter 17: One's Due
A converted merchant ship leads the Amazon fleet as it once more comes within sight of Zarmuda. Despite the captured pirate ships among its number, a battle against the cannons of the pirate fleet would be hard and bloody. Yet the Amazons are allowed to anchor up close to the sunken city without challenge.In fact, many of the pirates have abandoned the revolt after the disastrous battle of Tetla. Disillusioned by the lack of plunder and fed up with the mad undead-worship of the rebel leader Gaspare, crews have been taking their ships and leaving. The desertions have only further exacerbated the tension. In this way, by spending almost two months allowing her forces to recover, Queen Lyssa of the Amazons has also given the alliance between her enemies time to sour. In the end, there is no united fleet which can meet her own this Jahrdrung day.
Who is horribly outnumbered now, you bastards?
In no way does this mean that the Amazons land on Zarmuda unopposed. Jumping off their canoes, they smash against the walking corpses assembled on the artificial shores of the sunken city. Slowly but surely it becomes clear that they are carrying the day, pushing deeper into the canals and causeways. And then the dead suddenly falter. An unnatural confusion spreads through the once single-minded horde. Stumbling around without purpose, the undead abominations are now cut down like maize before the sickle.
The remaining pirates now surrender en masse, even as the rebel leader is cornered in the crumbling Sun Temple. Daubed in ochre war paint, the young Kriemhild easily cuts down the fanatical Gaspare in single combat. While his unfortunately mortal body bleeds out on the temple floor, a figure in rotting clothes sneaks a small sailing boat out of Zarmuda's canals. Resting beside him is an ancient tome, his pale hand gripping a grisly sceptre.
Enemy "survivors" – or as we prefer to call them in Amazonia: "potential forced labour"
24.03.2026
Lounging in her seat at the head of the table, Queen Lyssa idly flips an elegantly carved bone comb between her fingers. It is not the most exciting of the loot from Lambada, but the sweet tubers and pearl-like grains they brought back require proper preparation to be eaten, apparently.
"I hope it was worth it," Tisiphone of Tetla says acerbically. She has just had to admit to the council she has made no progress in her mission. The rest of the Tarantula Coast Amazons remain unwilling to submit to Lyssa's rule. Unsurprisingly, the chancellor is not in a good mood.
Glancing up from the comb, the queen gives her a puzzled look.
"Your escapades in the Miyan swamps left Amazonia wide open to attack," Tisiphone reminds her.
Lyssa taps the bone comb against her chin: "I think it all turned out rather well," she counters. Tossing the utensil aside, the queen grins: "And it was so easy, too! If only we had time to crack that big town in the trees, we would have gotten even more stuff..."
The arrival of the exotic meal brings the discussion to a halt. Perking up at the sight, Lyssa nevertheless remains uncharacteristically silent as they eat. Assuming the queen is deep in thought evaluating the merits of these foreign vegetables, Azu the steward asks her what she thinks of the meal.
"Oh, delicious!" Lyssa says off-handedly, before turning to her advisor and licking her lips.
"I think my daughters are old enough to command domains of their own," she declares, obviously following an unspoken deliberation none of the others were privy to.
"They did prove themselves against the pirates," Azu agrees, quite nonplussed but not so much that she cannot instinctively act the yes-woman.
"The only domain missing a matriarch is Cuauhlotl," Tisiphone reminds her queen hurriedly. Surely even Lyssa would not be bold enough to replace a matriarch just to give her spawn fancy titles. "And even that is not yours to simply give away."
"Ah, but you forget one thing..." Lyssa smiles. "The domain of Nalixo is."
Tisiphone's lips curl as if served capybara dung and not capybara stew. Just as the queen says, Nalixo on the south shore of Amaxon Bay was Lyssa's domain before she became queen. This is also the reason why the two have been saddled with each other for so long: Tisiphone's Tetla lies within the borders of the larger Nalixo domain.
"Inanna, as the oldest I grant our ancestral domain to you," Lyssa proclaims. Not quite sure what she's talking about, Inanna just half-smiles uncertainly and nods. "As for Phaedra... I do believe the silly Miyan chief of Amocan got himself eaten by lizardmen or somesuch. It is in dire need of a good ruler."
"I will go and inform her at once," Azu curtsies and leaves the table.
"Y-you cannot just... make up domains like that..." Tisiphone protests.
Raising an eyebrow, Lyssa just gives her a bemused look: "Excuse me? If you have concerns you really should take it up with your Matriarch." For clarification the queen helpfully points at Inanna sitting further down the table. Seeing her new chief very intently failing to skewer some seeds with her knife, Tisiphone groans and covers her face in her hands.
"You gonna eat that?" Lyssa asks flippantly and steals a slice of meat from her former vassal. Chewing on the treat, she turns away from the distraught woman and muses: "I suppose that means I am short one chancellor... ah! Calypso, perhaps you would know a suitable candidate?"
Lounging in her seat at the head of the table, Queen Lyssa idly flips an elegantly carved bone comb between her fingers. It is not the most exciting of the loot from Lambada, but the sweet tubers and pearl-like grains they brought back require proper preparation to be eaten, apparently.
"I hope it was worth it," Tisiphone of Tetla says acerbically. She has just had to admit to the council she has made no progress in her mission. The rest of the Tarantula Coast Amazons remain unwilling to submit to Lyssa's rule. Unsurprisingly, the chancellor is not in a good mood.
Glancing up from the comb, the queen gives her a puzzled look.
"Your escapades in the Miyan swamps left Amazonia wide open to attack," Tisiphone reminds her.
Lyssa taps the bone comb against her chin: "I think it all turned out rather well," she counters. Tossing the utensil aside, the queen grins: "And it was so easy, too! If only we had time to crack that big town in the trees, we would have gotten even more stuff..."
The arrival of the exotic meal brings the discussion to a halt. Perking up at the sight, Lyssa nevertheless remains uncharacteristically silent as they eat. Assuming the queen is deep in thought evaluating the merits of these foreign vegetables, Azu the steward asks her what she thinks of the meal.
"Oh, delicious!" Lyssa says off-handedly, before turning to her advisor and licking her lips.
"I think my daughters are old enough to command domains of their own," she declares, obviously following an unspoken deliberation none of the others were privy to.
"They did prove themselves against the pirates," Azu agrees, quite nonplussed but not so much that she cannot instinctively act the yes-woman.
"The only domain missing a matriarch is Cuauhlotl," Tisiphone reminds her queen hurriedly. Surely even Lyssa would not be bold enough to replace a matriarch just to give her spawn fancy titles. "And even that is not yours to simply give away."
"Ah, but you forget one thing..." Lyssa smiles. "The domain of Nalixo is."
Tisiphone's lips curl as if served capybara dung and not capybara stew. Just as the queen says, Nalixo on the south shore of Amaxon Bay was Lyssa's domain before she became queen. This is also the reason why the two have been saddled with each other for so long: Tisiphone's Tetla lies within the borders of the larger Nalixo domain.
"Inanna, as the oldest I grant our ancestral domain to you," Lyssa proclaims. Not quite sure what she's talking about, Inanna just half-smiles uncertainly and nods. "As for Phaedra... I do believe the silly Miyan chief of Amocan got himself eaten by lizardmen or somesuch. It is in dire need of a good ruler."
"I will go and inform her at once," Azu curtsies and leaves the table.
"Y-you cannot just... make up domains like that..." Tisiphone protests.
Raising an eyebrow, Lyssa just gives her a bemused look: "Excuse me? If you have concerns you really should take it up with your Matriarch." For clarification the queen helpfully points at Inanna sitting further down the table. Seeing her new chief very intently failing to skewer some seeds with her knife, Tisiphone groans and covers her face in her hands.
"You gonna eat that?" Lyssa asks flippantly and steals a slice of meat from her former vassal. Chewing on the treat, she turns away from the distraught woman and muses: "I suppose that means I am short one chancellor... ah! Calypso, perhaps you would know a suitable candidate?"
With the quarrelsome Tisiphone effectively sidelined and two important domains in the hands of her daughters, Lyssa offers a conciliatory gesture towards the other powerful woman in her realm: Forgiving her initial inaction in the war against the Triad Island pirates, the queen offers to take on one of Matriarch Calypso's inner circle as her new chancellor.
She is about as competent as Tisiphone but has the added qualification of not hating Lyssa's guts
Although by now Amazons make up a majority of the population in eastern Amocan, in the rest of the former Miyan domain halflings still hold sway. Fortunately, not too long ago the popular peasant leader of Tlachcoatl, in western Amocan, died. Having lost the unifying force that had led them in revolt against their cruel ruler years ago, there is no concerted protest from the locals to the queen's actions.
Still, in the inland jungles the Miyan retain their independence. Ever since Amocan splintered in rebellion, Xoitia has been an autonomous realm of scattered tribes. Unlike the lush fields to its north, this large area wedged between the Amaxon and Scorpion coasts is wild jungle. Despite this, it is technically part of Amocan – and Amocan is Amazon now.
Inanna's domain of Nalixo in the south-east and Phaedra's new domain of Amocan in the north-west – with poor Xoitia in between
Before much thought can be paid to such savages, the year's Serena Ritual takes on greater proportions than in recent memory. Commemorating the liberation of Kavana, the Triad Islands, the ritual's feast lasts for two weeks – bolstered by impressive amounts of looted food and drink. Once the festivities are done and a new generation of Amazon warriors have been anointed, however...
02.06.2026
Arms outstretched, Lyssa waits impatiently while Quihuatzin helps put on the queen's resplendent battle regalia. The halfling patiently climbs up and down, moving around the stool necessary for her to reach without complaining – at least not audibly.
"Oufh... Careful there!" Lyssa chides her martial servant as one of the straps is tightened. Before the Miyan can retort or the queen continue, it is announced that Her Highness has visitors.
In marches Kriemhild, battle headdress covering her vividly red hair, followed by a fretting Cassiopeia and attentive Azu.
"Where's Calypso?" Lyssa wonders immediately. After having spent most of the pirate war back on Quetzl, the Jaguar of the Seas has been tasked by her liege to make the novice warriors ready to march. With Inanna and Phaedra busy applying their not-exactly-towering intellects to running domains of their own, Calypso will once more help lead the queen's forces.
"I, ah, believe she is still... sleeping off the effects of last night's feast," Azu says, as evenly as possible.
Cassiopeia wrings her hands: "It is all a bit sudden."
"You worry about your own business and let Calypso and Kriemhild worry about the fighting," Lyssa tells her spymaster, gesturing towards the red-haired warrior before her.
Both Kriemhild and Cassiopeia bow, poised to leave unless commanded otherwise.
"I'll go wake the marshal before we reconvene..." Azu says softly and slips out of the room.
Confidently, Queen Lyssa walks down the steps to the ancient mustering ground near the palace. About a hundred young shieldmaidens stand in neat ranks to greet her. She almost breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Calypso finally arrive in a hurry, huffing and puffing as she takes up position at the head of the formation. Still...
"So few..." Lyssa remarks with poorly disguised disappointment as she comes up to the marshal while she is catching her breath. Raising an eyebrow she gives Calypso a pointed look: "I hope you at least spent the feast with a couple of men or a dozen in your bed. Getting yourself some exercise."
"Ah... no..." the marshal says evasively.
Lyssa groans. She has heard rumours. That the Matriarch of Quetzlpan has stopped bedding males; whether as some sort of misguided penance or from an unknown defect, the queen has no idea. Just like that stuck-up Concordia – and look where that got her! Lyssa almost brings it up as a cautionary tale, but instead just gives Calypso a look of silent displeasure.
Before the awkwardness can escalate further, the sound of marching feet commands everyone's attention. Appearing from between the venerable temples and palaces of Ganaina, a column of fresh-faced Amazon youths moves eagerly. At its head: Fiery Kriemhild.
"Those girls are not ready!" Calypso protests once the redhead comes up to her and the queen, softly so only the three of them may hear.
Kriemhild does not retort, instead looking to her queen to gauge her reaction.
For her part, Lyssa's eyes are fully on the contingent brought in by the taciturn commander. Appreciating the fact that it more than doubles the number of new recruits available to her.
"Well, now that they're here... it would be outright cruel not to let them fight," Lyssa grins.
Arms outstretched, Lyssa waits impatiently while Quihuatzin helps put on the queen's resplendent battle regalia. The halfling patiently climbs up and down, moving around the stool necessary for her to reach without complaining – at least not audibly.
"Oufh... Careful there!" Lyssa chides her martial servant as one of the straps is tightened. Before the Miyan can retort or the queen continue, it is announced that Her Highness has visitors.
In marches Kriemhild, battle headdress covering her vividly red hair, followed by a fretting Cassiopeia and attentive Azu.
"Where's Calypso?" Lyssa wonders immediately. After having spent most of the pirate war back on Quetzl, the Jaguar of the Seas has been tasked by her liege to make the novice warriors ready to march. With Inanna and Phaedra busy applying their not-exactly-towering intellects to running domains of their own, Calypso will once more help lead the queen's forces.
"I, ah, believe she is still... sleeping off the effects of last night's feast," Azu says, as evenly as possible.
Cassiopeia wrings her hands: "It is all a bit sudden."
"You worry about your own business and let Calypso and Kriemhild worry about the fighting," Lyssa tells her spymaster, gesturing towards the red-haired warrior before her.
Both Kriemhild and Cassiopeia bow, poised to leave unless commanded otherwise.
"I'll go wake the marshal before we reconvene..." Azu says softly and slips out of the room.
* * *
Confidently, Queen Lyssa walks down the steps to the ancient mustering ground near the palace. About a hundred young shieldmaidens stand in neat ranks to greet her. She almost breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Calypso finally arrive in a hurry, huffing and puffing as she takes up position at the head of the formation. Still...
"So few..." Lyssa remarks with poorly disguised disappointment as she comes up to the marshal while she is catching her breath. Raising an eyebrow she gives Calypso a pointed look: "I hope you at least spent the feast with a couple of men or a dozen in your bed. Getting yourself some exercise."
"Ah... no..." the marshal says evasively.
Lyssa groans. She has heard rumours. That the Matriarch of Quetzlpan has stopped bedding males; whether as some sort of misguided penance or from an unknown defect, the queen has no idea. Just like that stuck-up Concordia – and look where that got her! Lyssa almost brings it up as a cautionary tale, but instead just gives Calypso a look of silent displeasure.
Before the awkwardness can escalate further, the sound of marching feet commands everyone's attention. Appearing from between the venerable temples and palaces of Ganaina, a column of fresh-faced Amazon youths moves eagerly. At its head: Fiery Kriemhild.
"Those girls are not ready!" Calypso protests once the redhead comes up to her and the queen, softly so only the three of them may hear.
Kriemhild does not retort, instead looking to her queen to gauge her reaction.
For her part, Lyssa's eyes are fully on the contingent brought in by the taciturn commander. Appreciating the fact that it more than doubles the number of new recruits available to her.
"Well, now that they're here... it would be outright cruel not to let them fight," Lyssa grins.
There's a new Jaguar in town!
Bolstered by several untested young warriors, an Amazon army in the thousands pour into the last independent vestige of Miyan Amocan. Almost anti-climactic after the three-year struggle against pirates and undead, the sheer size of the army means the underprepared recruits are not pushed too hard.
The Miyan try to resist with guerilla tactics, but word has already spread about the gracious treatment of the halflings of Tlachoatl to the north. It is not long before villages start surrendering rather than take to the treetops to defend themselves. Finally, the foremost Miyan commander comes before Lyssa with his grizzled freedom fighters. There they submit to the queen who broke the tyrannical rule of Ikengrim the Cruel over the Amocan tribes. In time these halflings will prove to become some of Lyssa's most dedicated warriors.
27.06.2026
Spirits are buoyed by an overwhelming victory against an opponent that – while merely halflings – have been much more satisfying for the shieldmaidens to fight than the endless hordes of the dead. Nevertheless, there has been a feeling that throughout the campaign, the Amazon left flank always seemed to push a little harder, a little faster, than the right... Now that feeling has manifested itself in the uneasy atmosphere of the queen's tent.
The fluttering tent flap announces the reluctant visitor's arrival. Lyssa looks up: "Callie... we need to talk..."
Spirits are buoyed by an overwhelming victory against an opponent that – while merely halflings – have been much more satisfying for the shieldmaidens to fight than the endless hordes of the dead. Nevertheless, there has been a feeling that throughout the campaign, the Amazon left flank always seemed to push a little harder, a little faster, than the right... Now that feeling has manifested itself in the uneasy atmosphere of the queen's tent.
The fluttering tent flap announces the reluctant visitor's arrival. Lyssa looks up: "Callie... we need to talk..."
- 1
When you get a chance can you show the world map?
I'd like to see how much the world changed.
I'd like to see how much the world changed.