Welcome to Gaia! ::

Description: Each fighter will receive an unmarked package delivered to them either through standard postage or through courier late in the evening. Inside is a standard GPS device with a location preloaded. Those savvy with the local area will notice the indication located is a seedy part of Barton town. Known for it's projects, slums, and red light districts. Common establishments include brothels, clubs, greasy diners, tiny apartments, and pawn shops.

It'll be night time before anyone will be able to reach the indicated location. It appears awfully run down, with decaying buildings covered with graffiti and trash laying about. The complete lack of official personal or equipment might make one wonder if this was a set up, at least until their opponent arrives. A few low lifes linger around, with mixed reactions as the fights commence. Some will drunkenly cheer random fighters on, while others might threaten to call the cops. More still will opt to just ignore whats going on, as if it was just another day in the life. If one is observant, they might notice a particular silvery haired girl sitting near the entrance to a nightclub with a friend, both of whom seem to be paying close attention.

Sure hope you all can recognize each other!

Field Measurements: Roughly 40 foot square paved lot. This does overflow to some degree

Ten Count Boundary: Stepping into the street or any of the adjacent businesses will start the ten count. This, however, may be worth it due to the items listed below.

Bonus: Due to not being properly cleared before the matches, there are all sorts of impromptu items littering around. 2x4s with nails, broken bottles and shards of glass, lengths of metal piping all are options for the opportunist fighter. Who knows what else the nearby dumpster might hold. On top of that, an enterprising fighter might opt to risk the 10 count to grab a weapon from one of the nearby businesses. Chairs, pool cues, and even knives are options from the various places nearby...if they can get in and out again in time.

The tune was all wrong. A harsh, sad dissonance. This was supposed to be a place for glory; a chance to redeem herself of past mistakes and finally set herself on the real "right path", not remind her of the reality she was trying so desperately to escape. Yet... there could be a silver lining to everything. History was written by the victors. She could hear the bards even now... 'Bold and naive, our stout warrior descended from her frozen home in search of a song worthy of the Great Hearth. She traveled to the land of humankin, but soon learned that their rules were different. Glory alone could not keep her fed, and the strength of her back only attracted those of silver tongues and questionable motives. But even the mighty Norn cannot live off intentions alone, and eventually the silver tongue won out. It was only much later that she learned of a way out. A fighting tournament that promised riches and glory. The last thing she expected, was to come back right where she began.'

"You have arrived at your destination."

Fashionably late ...was how that human saying went, right? She could probably get away with blaming it on her equipment. Lugging around three heavy shields, a pair of javelins, an ax, and various other assorted combat devices was no small feat for extended travel. Except... for the muscle-weighted, 7-foot-tall half-giant a mere 100 pounds of extra weight was like nothing over any distance; nevermind the fact that she had taken a cab like any rational person. No, if she had to be honest her delay was due to disbelief. Firstly that this all-too-familiar place was a legitimate match location, and secondly that the name on the charts distinctly belonged to a... well, for all intents and purposes, child. Oh, she had watched the replay and could recognize a fierce fighter when she saw one, and with the level of healing this establishment had available it was impossible to believe that even death was a permanent condition. But still... surely there was a joke here she was not getting. The half-kin would be lucky to reach her waist, and even more lucky if she couldn't rag-doll him with a single arm. How could she possibly find glory in such a fight? Either she be seen beating up a child or, worse, get beaten by one. Really it was about as lose-lose as things went.

Cold silver eyes looked out upon the small plot the GPS had indicated, the skilled sight of a hunter piercing even the poorly-lit shadows hidden from otherwise hideous neon lights. Normally she would have been happy to see a crowd, shady and disinterested though they may be, but this time... well, she merely stepped into the center of the "arena" and waited, alert. At least it wouldn't be hard for either one of them to spot their opponent. One stood a few heads higher and the other a few heads lower than the rest. In fact, that diminutive figure up on one of the balconies looked rather suspicious already, though the annoying light made it hard to tell for sure.

Hubris was an interesting thing. Njora's suspicions were confirmed when she heard the half-kin call out, feeling fortunate that this one did not have the same aspirations as the last, considering this was a much more appropriate arena for such strategies. No, and in fact not only was he direct, he seemed bold as well; leaping up atop the railing and hoisting his weapon with clear intent. She had to give him this much, he had the right kind of spirit. Yet if he expected her to get hit by such an obvious attack... well, if only she had known.

As it was she merely stepped back with her right foot, putting her in a side stance and thus a relatively smaller target, and traced the spear's path. The lights were abrasive, but not enough to completely interfere with her racial low-light vision. It was an easy task to raise her right hand and bat the spear the rest of the way away. She was... a little foggy on what happened next. There was a scream? Or perhaps that was just the growing ring in her ears. There was definitely a flash of light and the smell of burning leather, but beyond that it was hard to feel much of anything except an occasional twitch. She knew one thing for sure. Magic was involved.

The Shield Maiden stood still with a look of irritated confusion frozen on her face and charred, smoking hand still slightly extended long after the spear had passed her by. Centered stance and pure instinct kept the large woman on her feet, but not much else. Her previous counter-attack plan was left to fall as harshly as the large bronze aspis currently clattering against the ground behind her, unlatched by her errant left hand just before the stormcaller's strike gave her a bit of a challenge to basic motor controls.

Oh, so that's where the pain was hiding. Blood ran lazily from her hand as she clenched it, opening up various wounds as burnt dry skin stretched beyond its new limits. Still, despite that she couldn't see or hear she could tell that the burns and seizures were the only bits of pain coursing through her in the wake of numbing shock wearing off; which meant that her opponent had not followed up with another attack. Of course, that didn't mean he still wouldn't, so as soon as she could move again her left hand slipped the next few inches it needed to unlatch the second shield, a relatively larger but lighter 5' x 2.5' tower shield that plopped against the ground with a clang before she caught its side and pulled it frontways across her body to let it rest against the ground and her right arm even as she switched to a right-front stance. (In other words, 'Hide behind the shield!')

"I am impressed. Where I come from shamans of your caliber are venerated and rarely see battle. What song do you wish to build in a place such as this?"

From there she could only hope that he waited long enough for her to strap the shield to her arm and blink away the spots in her eyes, because she sure as hell wouldn't be able to hold it with that hand alone.

Ah, a familiar response. Honestly if she hadn't known any better she probably could have been convinced that a vow of silence was required for this tournament, and she just hadn't been told. Or it could still be the case, and 'Hey' was just a rare exception. Either way, he had been kind enough to allow her ample time to recover from his magical greeting. It would be very rude of her to keep him waiting any longer. Besides, she owed him a spear (albeit with a little less lightning).

Reaching behind her, the Shield Maiden pulled out one of the javelins from beneath the last shield still mounted to her back. The heavy-looking 4' implement was tipped with a slim steel head, clearly designed for armor piercing and little else, but despite its equal size to the half-kin's discarded weapon, it still managed to look a bit small in the large woman's grasp.

Normally a quick, decisive confrontation was ideal for her, but the boy had revealed the nature of his chord a bit early. If the rumbling ground was any indication, she was about to be dealing with yet another invocation. Which meant that, sadly, this time it was worth being cautious. Njora hefted her shield, keeping it low to the ground considering their height difference and taking a more centered stance. Starting things off nice and simple, she closed the last short bit of distance between them, gripped her javelin low on its shaft for the extra reach, and thrust it out around her shield at the boy's left shoulder.

Fully expecting the readied sword to parry, she was already pulling her testing strike back before it even had a chance to hit. If he did indeed take a swing at it (or her), the next stab was aimed directly at his sword arm. Small a target as it may be, she hoped to at least land a solid enough blow to open a painful gash in his forearm, or catch on a tendon or two in his elbow if she was really lucky. If he didn't swing, well... she could still get a good read on his movements and her javelin would still be chambered and ready for that second strike later.

A clang, a swish, and a slice. From over her shield she could see his face as he reacted to her attack. Everything was playing out exactly as expected, yet she couldn't help but fee a tinge of regret. It wasn't in her to show such a pathetically weak sentiment as mercy, but it was starting to bring out a bit of motherly instinct.

Of course, she was getting lost in her own thoughts again, which made an already difficult to catch attack even harder. Silver eyes narrowed and raven locks lashed harshly as she threw up her arm and staggered backwards in the wake of the sudden concrete spike. She could feel the lacing burn and running blood from the pretty little gash low on her tricep, but despite her cumbersome speed she was still able to escape a full skewering with only a small puncture in her armor. Fortunately for her four feet was not as high as for most. Unfortunately for him, motherly instincts for a "barbaric" warrior race would never include sympathy.

"Clever. You have good instincts, but your form needs work."

She returned to her centered stance and advanced upon the grounded child, stopping only barely outside his reach when she noticed the look in his masked eyes... "Does it hurt? Good. Anger can be a useful tool on the battlefield. But you must make it work for you. Let your emotions control you and you invite your enemy to control the flow."

The Shield Maiden emphasized her point with a small step forward, gritting her teeth against the pain of the burns as she lifted her shield and aimed to slam the bottom edge harshly into his legs. Anticipating his response, if he moved anywhere but away from her he would find she had already flipped the javelin in her hand and was aiming a solid jab with the blunt end into his chest.

Through it all this little one never ceased to surprise. The shield clanged hard against the ground as expected, but her lecture was indeed for naught as the boy was still composed enough to stay on the defensive. When she rounded her shield to intercept his counter or escape, she was instead met with a deft and well-prepared parry, turning her 4' javelin into a 2.5' arrow with a resounding crack.

"Just so." For the first time in the fight that telltale grin finally crept upon her lips. Even if she could not earn glory from the encounter it was marginally comforting to see that it could at least be fun. So far the pint-sized stormcaller had not only managed to deal more damage to her than the duskling hunter from last round, but was also beating her for damage in this round. Ah magic. The great equalizer.

Despite his desperate composure he still looked rather upset, which meant that her lesson would mean very little if she relented now. As he rolled back to gain some distance and breath she flipped the broken javelin back around to sharp-end-forward and advanced, stopping only when he regained his footing to send another dangerous-looking jab at his center of mass. Much like the first, however, she would pull back before the attack could hit (probably a lot sooner if she saw him swinging for her arm due to the suddenly shorter reach). Her real attack came with another long step forward as she aimed to elbow-check the entire mass of her shield into him. Not tremendously powerful when compared to her other signature shield bashes, but with her considerable strength behind it, it would still feel a lot like running casually into a wall.

*Edited to include the quote*

Njora Brynjolf was no fool. She may not have had the opportunity to fight many Shamans in her time, but she knew of their penchant for stoneskin-like spells, and she had fought more than enough frost trolls to get a good idea of what that felt like. Which, as it happened, was very much like the sudden jarring cut in momentum and loud metallic clang that rang out across the tension-stricken lot. Even locals who didn't seem all that interested were given momentary pause, but the scene was common enough that they could go back to their own business before too long.

For the Shield Maiden, however, there was still a very pressing matter. If the camera caught it, the bards would certainly have something to sing about as the very first half-kin brought a look of concern to the mighty Norn's face. Adrenaline indeed while she glared wide-eyed at the sword snaking around her shield, aimed to put a very deadly end to their short bout. Yet even in knee-jerk reactions she had a warrior's control. And knee-jerk it was, thrusting her left leg back and slightly right to get a little farther away from the sword while she shifted her shield and pulled in back to the new angle, making sure the hilt guard never made it past the edge of her shield so that simple leverage kept the blade away from her body. At least long enough for her to take another few steps back.

It was rare for anyone to straight up stop a forward assault from the likes of her, much less push her all the way back. She could definitely respect the half-kin for that. Fortunately he had already used quite a bit of magic, and she was only just getting started. There was plenty of fight left in them both.

Not wanting to get caught with a broken weapon with the action picking up, Njora elected to flip her half-javelin and chuck it near point-blank at the stormcaller's stoney left shoulder. Broken as it was, he'd have to remain pretty still for the slim steel tip to actually pierce as intended, but it could still hit with enough force to provide the distraction she needed to reach back and pull out the second javelin.