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There was a song to be heard here, she knew. More than just the tune that was already playing, drowning out the northerner's thoughts; more than just the cacophony of chatter and catcalls (hey, some people liked their women big). Or perhaps it was the combination of it all. An atmosphere that was a roaring melody of itself, telling the tale of those who had made it this far and the glory of battles yet to come. Ah yes, there it was... she could hear the bards even now... 'Who could ever forget the scene etched before our eyes, when the young warrior of stone stood atop the waterfalls and shouted triumphantly over her fallen elder. We can, that's who! The ale was strong that night and not a one of us can remember past the first few moments of that fated battle. Nevertheless! Here she stood, the glint of Raven in her cold silver eyes and massive seven-foot frame drifting mere inches from the lowest decorative hangings, making the entire establishment look as if it were built for dwarves. Excitement was in the air as the crowd cheered, for who could not place their bets upon such a glorious battle? The tale of two souls who had made it this far could only end with epic proportions.'

Njora Brynjolf did not bother to prepare. With the defeat of the venerated kinsman her song had grown enough that even her clan could no longer deny her skill. This was a time to be savored. With sure steps she approached the band, their own tune slowing with the presence of such an intimidating figure. An awkward note put a stop to the guitarrista as he gazed up, dumbfounded, while the large woman plucked the instrument from his unsteady grasp. As if nothing was wrong with this, she made her way back to the center of the ring and struck up a chord while she waited.

She didn't have much playtime before her opponent arrived, though much to her surprise she felt the vixen before that iconic stetson appeared from within the crowd.



And what an especially curious feeling it was. A rather small woman who seemed to enjoy the spotlight a bit (after making it this far, that was hardly surprising), but beneath the delicate facade a wild bloodlust the likes of which she had not seen since leaving her homelands. The shield maiden's stance remained casual as she stopped playing, silver eyes glimmering over a knowing grin. Her own eager anticipation reached out to the mixblood girl even as the bizarre hat bowed low, showing a great deal of restraint for the kind of feelings she was sensing.

"Robyn Isedan. I have heard your song; brave and fierce among your peers. A Dancer who turns combat to art." she responded with a nod to acknowledge the bow, "I am Njora Brynjolf, Warrior Herald of my people, the indomitable Norn. May the bards sing fondly of this battle and grant all glory to the victor."

With that she hefted the instrument single-handedly over her shoulder (or at least as far over as it could go before coming to rest upon a shield), stepped back with her right to take a sidelong stance, and unlatched the first shield, a 3-foot bronze hoplon. Her left hand reached out and rested atop it as the heavy implement clanged loudly against the ground and rolled to a stop at her side. Outwardly casual but inwardly tending a growing blaze, she stood and waited, watching to see how her new dance partner would react.

Keen eyes watched closely. Curious indeed. Outwardly there were many reasons why she was able to sense this wildkin's emotions. Fangs, claws, tail... she was a step removed from the standard half-kin the Shield Maiden had faced thus far. But those eyes... there was more to this creature than outward appearances. Magic, for sure, to have made it this far in such a frail-looking form, but still something else.

Well! Many wisdoms revealed themselves in combat. The little wildkin was clearly taking an extremely cautious approach, so it was up to Njora to get things started. She flashed a half grin, "I am pleased you agree." and sprung into motion.

With a hard flick the shield was airborne, spinning like saw while the large warrior's left leg burst forward to close whatever gap remained. In the same motion she caught the shield by its edge and thrust it (vertical, small diagonal angle) at the vixen's center of mass like some exotic war disk. For someone her size, speed and power were certainly not lacking; if it connected, however unlikely, loss of breath was perhaps the least of worries (the same attack in round one had broken her opponent's arm, though in some part due to the man's curious blocking technique). However, where it truly shined was reach. After stepping forward as she did any dodge that did not involve a hard sideways motion would likely still be well within the 6+ft. range of the attack.

The bronze implement hummed expectantly as it found the end of its reach with no solid purchase. Standard, as far as first exchanges went. It was only natural to take proper measure of one's foe before committing to any significant attacks. Small details were important to figure out exploitable points in technique. Of course, that didn't mean early opportunities of exploitation should be ignored, however. Like the Dancer's roll, for example. Njora was quite surprised to see her dodge to the inside. It was only polite to "explain" why that had been a bad idea.

Still held in her left hand but otherwise forgotten, the shield barely even had time to clang unceremoniously against the ground before the shield maiden was in motion once more. A quick step forward with her right foot and a simple downward chop brought mournful winces to the band's faces as she slammed the guitar down hard upon Robyn's head.

Of course, it was about that time that a point of her own style would be revealed. From weapons to magic to combat techniques, everything Norn was big. Among her own people her style was nearly impenetrable. Those with superior strength could still overwhelm her, but with so little exposed anyone who focused on "technique" could never find a hole in her defenses. But then... none of them ever thought to use tiny shards of mosquito steel. Committed to her attack as she was, it was all she could do to jerk her head to the side and watch as the shuriken dug deep into her skin and bounced delicately off her cheek bone. Blood would soon begin to run freely down her jaw, but the durable northerner didn't even seem to acknowledge the catscratch with anything more than an annoyed squint. Her eager grin remained.

An acoustic crash resounded hard throughout the room, sending the crowd into a momentary silence as the guitarrista mourned the loss of his instrument. There was always something strangely satisfying about attacking with musical implements. Even in death they still sounded rather elegant. What's more, she was rather impressed to see the dancer still standing amidst the shower of splinters. It seemed her opponent was far sturdier than she looked. Or at least willful. Doubly so, for it was hardly a moment later before she stepped even closer to the larger woman, reaching out greedily for Njora's arm like it was some coveted sweets. Of course, between the shield maiden's own reaction and the fact that her arm was still in motion, swinging all the way down in follow-up to the attack, the exotic little shard of a weapon would only have time to puncture her vambrace before the vixen's acute senses of "the first sign of trouble" triggered.

Just in time, too, for if she had stayed even a moment longer she would have had a much more solid bronze shield slammed sidelong into her. Instead the northerner shifted her feet and curled her arm to sap the momentum from the missed swing. Which, quite conveniently, left her in the perfect stance for a follow-up attack.

"Not so fast." she declared even as she triggered a simple mental command and uncoiled like a spring, sending the shield hurtling towards her backward-springing dance partner like the frisbee it had been so aptly compared to. A rather solid 30-pound frisbee with enough power to knock a grown man off his feet (or break a child's arm, as was seen in round two), but a frisbee nonetheless. The position of her hand made the throw a bit awkward, but she didn't need to worry about strength over distance with the target so close. Whether it hit the girl or the floor the boomerang enchantment would activate and send it bounding back to her waiting arms.

At long last her grin faded. Once again she had no choice but to twist her head around so that the pesky little shard didn't have a flat surface to dig in and stick. It cut a sweet gash through her beloved bandanna, sliced open what little skin was on the forehead, and bounced off her thick skull with a rather painful hairline fracture. Still not enough to stop her throw, however, and the bandanna was able to soak up the fresh stream of blood so that she could still watch in amazement as the dancer followed through with her title. The large woman didn't even know it was possible to move like that. It was rather fascinating to watch, even if she'd never dream of trying it herself.

Even more impressive was the vixen's reaction to the shield's return trip. Not only was she sharp enough to recognize that something was up, but whether through expert reflexes or pique processing she was even able to dodge it in the extremely short amount of time it took to bounce back at such a short distance. Not so fast indeed... if this was her strength the shield maiden was in quite a bit of trouble. Even 30 years of battle instincts would not bridge the gap here. She could endure all the mosquito shards in the world, but if she couldn't land a meaningful blow... well... it was little wonder the wildling dancer had made it this far.

The dangling remains of the guitar clattered to the ground as Njora reached out to catch her shield with both hands, deftly spinning it and gripping the inside handle with her left. Without wasting a moment she sprung back into action. If there was anything those battle instincts told her, it was that when faced against a superior foe moments of weakness could not be passed upon. She covered the distance in a single leaping stride and ended with a rather dangerous punch, slamming her shield towards the ground (and Robyn's back/shoulders) like some makeshift guillotine. But she didn't stop there; oh no. She was fully expecting the agile little fighter to roll away, and so her momentum continued, ready at a moment's notice to chase after the wildling's escape and meet her with a firm sweeping shield bash as soon as her head popped back up off the ground. Funny enough, the worst case scenario was actually if the first attack hit. The guillotine slam still had enough power to deal some rather unfriendly damage, but committed to her follow-up as she was she would end up tripping over her opponent's body if it didn't move.

CLANG~

She felt the shield connect and her opponent reel. Now that was more like it! Cautious eyes watched as the little vixen scrambled and scampered away, but she couldn't help but wonder at the odd blurring. Surely two mosquito shards hadn't drained her of that much blood... but then it started getting worse. A bit of haze soon became full-scale double image. An image that got right up and walked away. Magic.

Njora was at least vaguely familiar with magic. She used it, but to a very limited degree, and she heard many a legend of its innumerous applications. Her people's own shamans were venerated for their history-changing power. It was a vast field to which she had very little defense beyond pure grit. Even her own "sixth sense" wasn't much use here. She could feel that the wildling was excited and eager. A desire to be free and in control... strange... but it would not help her discern between the two dancers beginning their circle.

Still, all that really meant was she would have to figure this illusion out the hard way. A loud metallic clang rang out above the crowd's hushed chatter as she unlatched the second shield, a larger but lighter 5' x 2.5' steel tower shield. Leaning against her side as she carefully watched the pair, she slipped her right hand into the strap and hefted it properly in preparation for the coming attack. The dreaded three-shield stance was complete, leaving virtually no holes in her defenses that could not quickly be covered by very small movements. Perhaps not an "ultimate" defense, but certainly close enough.

"I am pleased you managed to avoid such a fate. Come, then, Dancer. Show me your art. Listen to your heart and let free that hunger, that we might cross arms in glorious battle." she responded with a smirk. If she was given any length of time she would begin to move in a half-circle of her own, keeping both images in sight while she made her way in the general (indirect) direction of the band.