No man holds dominion over the amazons, and should he try he would quickly find himself skinned alive and boiled in oil. The bows and javelins of these warrior women have spelled the doom of more than one war party arrogant enough to underestimate their prowess in battle, and their savage hatred of men has been the end of more than one poor fool who thought he could surrender and submit himself to amazonian mercy.
The Amazons have long suffered from the sexism and chauvinism of males of various species. Consequently, they've taken a fairly violent stance against anyone threatening their way of life. There seems to be nothing more disturbing to a bunch of war-like males, than a bunch of war-like females. Especially ones that can kick male ass.
All this has left most other races wondering why the Amazons always seem to be in such a bad mood. The tradition of female warriors is looked upon as more of an ideal than a reality in most kingdoms. However, there are many warriors who would beg to differ, having faced the deadly tactics and fighting abilities of the Amazons, first hand.
Among the few races that these women warriors tolerate trade with are the Elves of the Forest of the Ancient Heart, and the Dwarves of the Hulestiathah Hills. The Elves tend to be more open minded than other races, while the Dwarves are more interested in trading for raw materials (and tend to find Human women a bit too tall, anyway).
Centuries ago, the Amazons claimed their namesake land in a effort to escape their persecution by the Knights, who didn't think women had any place on the battlefield. They chose Amazonia, not only because it was distant, but because it was surrounded on three sides by mortal enemies.
Constantly tested by the Undead, Ork, and Goblin forces, the Amazons became peerless fighters out of necessity. The life of an Amazon warrior is not one of idyllic, pastoral sisterhood, but one of bloodshed and contested strength. Weakness spells death and only the strongest gain the respect of leadership.
The Amazons have adopted a nomadic tribal system out of necessity, as well. Frequently on the move, the roving tribes make for harder targets of green skin and Undead raids.
On the whole, most Amazons worship the goddess Railia who embodies the feminization of bravery, strength, and valor in battle. The main temple resides in Shaytria, but all tribes tend to carry portable shrines and boast at least one priestess in their number.
Shaytria could be declared as the Amazonian capitol. It's more of a central city where the Amazon tribes stop at some point in their wanderings to resupply, trade, and offer prayers and gifts. When necessary, Shaytria is also where the Amazons go to breed.
The slave pens of Shaytria are legendary even outside the Amazon lands. Often the focus of salacious tales, the truth is much grimmer. The slave pens are no schoolboy fantasy, but rather a brutal flesh market where prisoners of war and male offspring are bought and sold. Lives end on a whim in violent blood sports, and only the most docile of male slaves are treated with anything approaching compassion.
Here, the Amazon Queen Kiantha holds a war court. Guided by her council of moon-sisters, she is kept busy by the frequent incursions of the surrounding enemy territories. For now, the Amazon nation stands strong, but only time will tell.
"What is it?" Shaya asked as the the three Amazon huntresses surveyed the brush-covered ridge above them. Something was up there, mumbling to itself and peering down at the spot where they had just brought down a bull stag. Flashes of light reflected off of some kind of spy glass.
The dry wind blew Shaya's blood-red hair as she slowly drew an arrow from her quiver. "I think I can hit it from here."
"It's some kind of...male," Danara spit out in disgust. The raven-haired leader cocked her head and listened to the creature's giggles.
"Does it think it's being clever?" Hayath leaned on her spear.
"Of course it does," Danara said. "I told you: it's a male."
"I can definitely hit it." Shaya drew her bow and took aim.
"Hold." Danara laid her hand on Shaya's arm. "Go up there and scout about. Make sure there aren't any more. We'll draw the bugger's attention." She nodded to Hayath and the two leaned over the stag, their hunting leathers riding up their legs.
Shaya broke away, hearing the joyous yelp of the intruder on the ridge.
Creeping up the hill, she caught the familiar scent of unwashed...green. As she parted the foliage, she saw a single Goblin peering through a bent spy glass.
"Lords of Nothing, would ya' look at that!" He mused to himself. "An' at redhead...say, where'd she go?"
Shaya took aim and let the arrow fly. The shaft pierced the shoulder of the Goblin's leather armor, barely scraping his flesh, and pinning him to a nearby tree.
"Whazza?" the green skin yelped. Shaya stepped into the clearing. "Uh oh...."
"I could have killed you, male-thing," she rasped. Danara and Hayath joined them on the ridge.
"It's a Goblin," Danara said wearily.
"Again?" asked Hayath. "That's the fifth time this month!"
"Rax has a serious problem," Danara sighed. "Well, what do we do with him?"
"Lemme go?" the Goblin grinned sheepishly.
"Flay him," said Shaya.
"Ey! That's not--"
"Castrate him, then flay him," Danara replied.
"Oi! I'm just doin' me job!" The Goblin shielded his crotch.
"Castrate him, flay him, then drop him in the Red Desert. Let the Undead have him," added Hayath.
"But...but..that's downright uncalled for!" The Goblin shook as he tried to free himself from the arrow.
Danara stepped forward and put her sword to the green skin's throat. "Then, I want you to take a message to your master, Rax." She reached up to a pouch, withdrew two walnuts, and pushed them into the Goblin's hands.
"Don't lose those," she laughed. "They're yours now. Go home to your master, tell him what happened. When you're done with your story, be sure to hand him your nuts."
The three warrior women broke into a scornful laughter. The Goblin raised an eyebrow.
"I don't get it."
"Oh, don't worry. Rax will, I'm sure. Just make sure you don't lose the real ones!"