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A roll, skip, and a jump later and the little stormcaller was away. Cumbersome and encumbered as she was, the large woman didn't even try to pursue. She even took an extra moment to pause, changing her mind about the javelin as she saw her hand-sized opponent bob off into the distance, and instead reaching for her belt. A short tug later and what had first appeared to be a simple braided-leather fastening with tribal-looking spheres for decoration was actually a fully functional 3-cord bola.

It was starting to dawn on her how unfortunate these sorts of fight scenarios were for her image. Those hooligans who would normally have been frightened of her were now witnessing her struggle against someone half her size. The leering, jests, and boos that followed in the wake of this brief lull grated on her more than she thought possible. Oh, sure, she could put them all back in their place easily enough, but that was the life she wanted to escape. To build a tale so grand that she would never have to return to a place like this again.

Njora's expression remained passive, but the icy look in her eyes was fast returning. She settled the long cord against her shield and began slowly twirling the other two with her left hand, building some steady momentum as she slowly advanced on the boy. Or rather, his general direction. Her actual path seemed suspiciously directed towards the shield that had fallen to the ground at the start of the fight.

The steady hum of the weighted balls slowed and finally stopped as she reached her destination. A quizzical look spread across her face, starting with an eyebrow and growing from there. The strategy itself was straightforward enough. Staying against a larger surface would make the bolas ineffective, and taking the high ground would more than likely allow him to use that accursed lightning magic again. She could still feel the sting in her hand and soreness through her limb from the first one. Definitely seemed worth going out of her way to avoid those.

Oh but if he wanted a ranged match she was more than happy to grant his wish. Folding the bola together and fastening it to the latch on her hip, she bent down and picked up her shield. By the way she flourished and deftly caught the large, heavy object, it would soon be made clear that this was her primary weapon of choice. By the way she held it and prepared her stance as if she were holding an olympic discus, it would soon be clear that the bronze implement was far more versatile than it first appeared. So very soon, for only a moment later she twisted forward, let out a grunt and a heavy heave, and threw the 30lb hoplon spinning straight at the climbing child, aiming slightly higher to compensate for his movement. It was times like these where her superior strength truly shone. At her best she could toss the tool well over 100 feet. A mere 20 was like nothing. A small gamble, for sure... if the half-kin did nothing the sheer blunt-force trauma of the blow could easily break his back. Certainly far more deadly than anything she'd done to him so far... but much like his previous sword strike at her, it was easy to expect an opponent at this level to avert the "fatal" aspects of these attacks.

Ah, but if he thought she was finished there, he would be sadly mistaken. Upon a simple mental command as the shield left her arm, the boomerang enchantment upon it activated. No matter what it hit at its final destination, the icy tundra winds of home would carry it back to her waiting hands.

In the middle of a heated battle there were many equations a warrior had to calculate all at once. A true "warrior's instinct" was one who could make all those calculations without having to pause and think about them. For the young (at least by her race's standards) Shield Maiden, this was a thoroughly ingrained part of daily life. Yet... well, there were somethings a warrior's instinct simply could not calculate.

She saw the boy leap off his bizarre perch, but she also saw the shield connect with a discomforting crack. Considering his size, trajectory, and the jarring distance he had to fall, that deceptive little "warrior's instinct" voice in her head told her the fight was over. Imagine her surprise when she found that dreaded spear still flying right towards her. Due to the stormcaller's fancy acrobatics, it was even closer this time. Dodging was suddenly out of the question. It was all she could do to pull her shield in front of her, set at a sharp angle so the spear could bounce off instead of pierce through. Naturally, that was when she heard the terrible ringing again.

For those random strays with eyes glued to the confrontation in the empty lot, not a one would ever again say that lightning never strikes the same place twice. For those unfamiliar with the particular limitations on this competition, not a one would look in jest upon the large woman who remained standing after practically eating both. Well... remained standing for a moment, anyway. There was one final piece to the miscalculation puzzle that she was missing. While the simple fact that her shield was structured with wood and only plated in steel might make one think of it as a poor conductor (and one might be right if it was an issue of a run-of-the-mill taser), but when dealing with something as large and powerful as a bolt of pure supernatural electric force, even wood was bound to produce some measure of conductivity. If only for the sheer amount of energy being shoved into such a small space at once.

Ah yes, the puzzle piece. Well as it happened boomerang enchantments were exactly the complicated sort that could be stopped mid-rang. The large woman's shield was still returning to her, whether she caught it or not. Which, dazed, deafened, and blinded as she was, happened to be the latter in this case. Her choice of defenses was the only thing that kept her from taking considerably more damage, but a deft clash of metal on metal still rang out in echoed call to the thunder's wake. The heavy hoplon bounded off to clatter against the ground a short distance away while the heavy Norn was knocked firmly upon her back, more wounds opening up in her burnt hand as the tower shield was twisted at an awkward angle in her fall.

Oh mighty turtle, so this was your plight. She could feel the ground shaking beneath her, and quite safely assumed that it was a very bad sign. But with two tower shields obstructing her from both angles she was a bit short on "standing up" power. There was nothing for it... she could already feel her arm cramping after taking two bolts of lightning. It would be useless for shield wielding anyway. With as much urgency as she could muster while she blinked away the daze and bright spots, her free hand quickly got to work on unstrapping her arm from the shield.

Once freed, she dumped her shield to the side and rolled the other way to regain her footing from the front. By the time she managed to stand and twist to face her foe, she found something quite different than what the last light of memory had left behind. In her homelands the shamans were venerated and cloistered for a reason. The spiritual wrath they could rain down upon a foe was nothing short of terrifying. When battle was fierce, casualties high, and hope slim, they were the trump cards pulled out to turn the tide. She may not have understood the ominous words ringing out across the battlefield, but the disembodied voice spoke volumes to her regardless. Brows furrowed with concern and a stern frown echoed her response. She had angered a vessel of the spirits. This fight would not end well for her.

The half-kin's approach was slow, giving her enough time to hop to the side and retrieve her favored shield, that large, round aspis that had caused all this trouble to begin with. Once again she held it by its edge like a disc and centered herself as if to throw it. Coiled and ready to spring into action at any moment, she watched the boy carefully and waited.