It is the Age of the Amazons.

In this most distant land the Amazons thrive as masters of war and pleasure, gods over all Creation. The kingdoms of humankind pale in comparison to their immeasurable wealth and indomitable power.

But this is no paradise. The woman warriors are blessed beyond compare with godlike intellect, wisdom, and amity. And they are equally blessed with all-consuming passion, lust, and fury. They are not a peaceful people. No... they are children of warlust.

* * *

Off the coast of the citystate of Coryphra, there is a lonely, austere shrine dedicated to Phoedra, goddess of the gentle tide. It is a small shrine, and not quite a popular site of worship. Nor is the god to which it is erected well-known. Still, the place is quiet. Calm. Peaceful, one dare may say.

Five young shrinemaidens maintain the place of worship, whiling the hours away sweeping the grounds, swimming, sunbathing, chatting, and––of course––making love. For the Amazons, lovemaking at a shrine is the truest form of worship. Phoedra smiles upon her few, beloved followers as the summers pass by.

But peace... peace can never last. It is not the Amazon way.

It is a day like any other, except this day a boat rows up to the shrine not from the coast from the eastern horizon. The boat is small, bearing only three Amazons decked in the gear of war. The shrinemaidens find it puzzling––for these are clearly warriors, and Phoedra is a god of leisure and coastal pleasure. Perhaps they have come to worship with the young maidens. Indeed, the warriors are handsome and lusty. The women giggle with anticipation.

The Amazons moor their boat. And disembark.

And draw their swords.