Agrias

Aetheric Control (Morning Star of Fracasse) - Agrias has the ability to manipulate the aether, amplifying and dampening the energies around her seemingly at will and even allowing her to pull a weapon from thin air should the need arise. While the effect of these manipulations are by no means permanent, they can be a valuable asset in the heat of battle. - Agrias strikes with +2 Strength in the first round of combat. For every hit scored in close combat roll a D6, on a 4+ the opponent's magic weapon is broken.

Blade of Office (Virtue of the Ideal, Barded Warhorse) - Clotho... a basket-hilted white rapier whose blade is lined with soft golden runes in an unknown language. A powerful artefact in its own right, this Blade augments the skills of its bearer, and is well suited to both offense and defense. - Clotho bestows upon her +2 Weapon Skill, +1 Initiative, +1 Attack (all included) and +2 to her Armour Save.

Runic Shirt (Heavy Armour, Enchanted Shield, Lady's Blessing) - A parting gift from Flint Ironblood, this chainmail shirt has a small plate woven into it. On that piece of gromril is inscribed a rune that makes this light armour almost impossible to pierce. - 3+ Armour Save and a 6+ Ward that increases to 5+ against S5 or better.

All Fun and Games (Questing Vow, Insignia of the Quest) - She takes few things in her life seriously, and battle is not usually one of them. As long as she is still having fun, she'll treat it as a game, leaving the full measure of her power in reserve. - Agrias can re-roll failed Psychology tests. When reduced to 1 Wound remaining, Agrias gains a 3+ Ward Save. In the case of Killing Blow or Multiple Wound attacks that have already passed by her weaker Ward Save and thus would have killed her without activating the better save, she is reduced to 1 Wound remaining and may then take the save to keep herself alive.

Description: Agrias's current host is a young woman of average build with short golden hair and soft green eyes. A red leather shirt with black sleeves hides the light chain that protects the host body, and a pair of dark pants and shoes finish the practical ensemble. The spirit creature possesses a somewhat childish nature and has no reason to fear anything, treating every battle as if it were a game. Though unsure of where the knowledge comes from, Agrias is also well versed in fighting styles from every corner of the world. True to her nature, she will switch between them at random, leaving the opponent guessing as to her next move (with little hope for success).

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Many thanks to Luc for the amount of material he generated for me to draw on when writing Agrias' fights. I probably spent the longest re-writing her matches out of any of the combatants, just to try and get the feel right... cute and scary at the same time is quite hard to do.

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THE FINAL: Agrias vs. Hanzin Lorrdhe

The crowd fell silent as Hanzin stepped out onto the sand, surveying the pit with an almost proprietorial air: the elf’s armour had been buffed to a steely shine, Treachery’s edge honed on the whetstone until it could cleanly cut a blade of grass in two. This was the final, and he intended to win.

Opposite, the gates to the pit began to rumble outwards, bronze bearings groaning as they yawned open. Agrias stepped through, Clotho already in her hand: there was a menacing chime of sliding steel as Hanzin’s own blade slithered from its scabbard, the Dark Elf holding his weapon warily between him and his opponent.

High overhead, the skink herald stepped up to the edge of the balcony, his throat inflating like a frog’s as he put the conch-shell trumpet to his lips: the signal boomed out, rebounding around the towering cylinder of stone in a chorus of eerie, fading calls. Welling up over the dying echoes, the crowd’s roar rose like a thunderclap, building into a deafening crescendo of cheers. Hanzin smiled to himself – Agrias’ eyes sparkled with excitement.

Looping Treachery expertly in one hand, Lorrdhe stepped forwards, taking up a fighting stance – seeing Agrias begin to circle to the left, he began to advance, striding warily towards the centre ground. Agrias slowed to a halt, meeting the Druchii’s eyes – looking down at her sword, she seemed to think for a moment, a peculiar stillness falling over her.

“I believe the good people in the stands came to see a fight, girl,” called Hanzin, his voice ringing out over the pit. “I’d rather not disappoint them, if it’s all the same to you.”
Agrias said nothing, her eyes moving to Hanzin’s feet – uncoiling in a sudden blur of motion, she leapt into the charge, the crowd rising to their feet to cheer her on. Pitching himself forwards, Lorrdhe met her head-on, Treachery flashing round in an arc of dark steel.

Rapier met draich in a singing peal of meeting metal: the two warriors span apart like dancers, their weapons shrieking as their edges grated against one another. Turning nimbly on her heel, Agrias lunged at Hanzin’s left, the elf striking her blow sharply aside – a high kick planted itself in her stomach, forcing her back with a winded gasp. Following through, Lorrdhe swung his blade out low, using his superior reach to full effect as he scythed at the girl’s gut – Agrias was forced back step over dodging step as the Druchii pressed forwards, keeping her at arm’s length. A strange smile crossed Hanzin’s face as she darted back again, making Agrias frown in confusion – her eyes widened in realisation as she felt her back touch the rough stone of the arena wall.

Instinct took over from method, the girl throwing herself flat as Treachery slammed round at shoulder height: the hooked blade hit the wall hard enough to bite into the limestone block behind where her throat had been, masonry dust drizzling from the shallow scar in the stone as Lorrdhe wrenched his weapon free. Spinning round, he scowled as he saw Agrias rising behind him, rolling to her feet with acrobatic agility: before he could bring his blade to bear, Clotho lanced into his side, piercing the mail beneath his cuirass and pulling out red with blood. The crowd roared, Hanzin stumbling back – Agrias lunged again, her rapier-tip aimed for the Druchii’s throat.

The girl seemed to freeze for the briefest of moments before the Arhagast’s retaliation slammed into her, throwing her back like a ballista-bolt. Tumbling over and over as she skidded in the sand, she slowed to a halt around twelve feet from the elf, Clotho skittering past her hand as it hit the ground: behind her, Hanzin was straightening up, his eyes blazing fiercely as they fixed on his opponent.

Head spinning, Agrias sat up with a grimace, blinking to clear her vision – the first thing she saw was Hanzin breaking into a charge, Treachery swinging up over his shoulder. Screwing her eyes shut, she threw herself sideways, hearing the draich chop into the boards beneath the sand where she had lain – reaching out, she felt Clotho’s hilt beneath her hand, scrambling to her feet as fast as she could and stumbling back out of the arc of the draich’s return swing. Regaining her balance, she blocked the next stroke, turning on the point of contact to sweep her rapier across the Dark Elf’s breastplate in a caterwaul of straining steel. Lorrdhe snarled, stepping back and batting the next blow aside with his heavier weapon – muscles uncoiling like a striking snake, he slammed forwards again, driving through Agrias’ guard in a battering storm of blows until the two weapons locked inches from the girl’s face.

“This probably isn’t a good time…” Agrias said, breathlessly, “…but could I get your autograph?”
Hanzin blinked.
“It’s just that you’re sort of… you know, a really big arena champion, and I was wondering – after the fight, I mean,”
“There isn’t going to be an ‘after the fight’,” snarled Hanzin, wrenching his sword to one side and sending Agrias stumbling away. The wound in his side throbbed angrily – the girl’s rapier had cut deep. “Not for you, anyway.”
“But, um, I mean, maybe some other time then?”
The blades rattled and clashed, blurred bars of silver whirling almost too fast to follow.
“Where did you learn to fight like this?”
“I watch the arenas!” said Agrias, happily. “All the time! They’re so much fun. But this one’s the best. Or the biggest, anyway.”
Treachery flicked round towards her throat – she ducked back, the point flashing past her face.
“See, I saw you do that one when you were fighting that lady! In the twenty-second arena, in the first round. It was so cool, ‘cos when you cut her head off everyone was all thinking that she was dead, but she wasn’t, and she sort of punched you in the chest, but then the mask-y thing got her.”
She frowned, darting out of the path of another blow.
“What happened to that?”
A deranged groupie, thought Hanzin, following through with another fruitless blow as Clotho blocked his weapon’s path. Rapier and draich slid apart, whirling round to strike again. Brilliant.
“And then the time before that, when you fought Kalerin, that was when you still had the mask, and it was all BAM when he tried to stab you. And then in the next round, when you killed that beastman, just chop. and then you beat Gruchul, but that was the mask again, and then the elf who was really a werewolf in the final, that was so exciting because you were fighting just like normal I mean not like normal because it’s really exciting anyway but then he changed and everyone thought you were dead but then the mask got him too and you won.”
The girl’s eyes were sparkling rather disturbingly at her accounts of past carnage.
“You need to find yourself a boy, dear,” sneered Hanzin, lashing out again. “Someone to look out for your mental health.”
Agrias scowled.
“Yeah, well, I remember when Hexie beat you in the first round, once. Maybe you’re not that great.”
The weapons clashed again.
“I think Kalerin’s better than you, anyway. He doesn’t need a stupid mask.”
This time, Treachery’s blow smashed the rapier clean out of her hand. Agrias barely had time to register that she was no longer holding a weapon before the hooked blade arced back, its cruel barb ripping up beneath her ribs and dropping her to the sand in a spray of blood.

“So much for that,” said Lorrdhe, walking slowly forwards to where the girl lay. Blood was pooling under her, the damage the blade must have wrought concealed from view by her back. “Maybe your precious Kalerin would have seen that coming. Then again, I did kill him that time, so probably not.”
His mocking tone faded away.
“The Arhagast chose me. You think it’s a toy? You have no idea.”
Checking himself, he regained a little of his composure, straightening up and pushing some loose hair out of his eyes.
“And you never will,” he said, more calmly. Touching Treachery’s edge against the back of the girl’s neck, he drew the sword up…

…and crumpled back as Agrias’ kick took his right foot from under him, the crowd pausing for a moment before erupting in cheers. Regaining his balance, he stared in disbelief as the girl pulled herself upright, one hand clutched over the bloody wound in her abdomen.
“What are you?” he asked, the guarding draich lowering a fraction – Agrias gave no reply, picking up her rapier and glaring sullenly at the Dark Elf’s feet.

Making up his mind, Hanzin sprang, a Druch-Eltharin warcry echoing round the pit as Treachery swept round – when the blade came down, Agrias was gone, Clotho’s point scoring down across the Druchii’s arm. Howling in pain, Hanzin span round, lashing wildly out, but the girl was a tumbling shadow, rising behind him to slam her blade against the small of his back, his armour ringing from the impact. Stumbling forwards, he lifted an arm to protect himself, only to reel back in mute shock as he saw three of his fingers tumble onto the sand. A searing pain lanced into his ribcage, and he toppled back, something soft catching his fall. A bloody-handed arm held his neck in the crook of its elbow, the girl seeming to have no difficulty in holding the armoured elf upright.

The rapier gleamed in his peripheral vision, and a voice spoke in his ear.

“I don’t think you’re that good at all, actually.”

Clotho’s edge dragged across his throat, leaving a pulsing red smile behind it. Letting the Dark Elf’s body slide through her arms, Agrias looked up at the crowd with a faint smile on her face before toppling backwards, unconsciousness overwhelming her.


“Victory to Agrias! Agrias is our Arena Champion!”

FIGHT RECORD:
H0 A2 (DoDP destroyed) BA1 H1 A0 H0 A2