Thread: Fun and flames in the phillipines ([Alyafae] and myself)

It was a matter of age, and training really. Lokas was youthful, fresh. Only twenty five years old and in perfect shape. He had come to the Philippines under his superior officer's orders to learn the native art of Eskrima. He'd been training every day since he hit the shore on the Philippines, and drilling to be combat ready every day before that. This old expat? He was forty-two. He was a marine only in name. He'd forsaken his training for liquor, and traded his youth for a steadily developing beer gut. Lokas had all the advantages in the world, and that young lady had just given him free reign to play as dirty as he liked. A crooked, sadistic smile panned across Lokas' facade. His lips turned up in a maniacal fashion, his teeth were stained with the blood oozing from his lip wound, and to put the cherry on his deranged visage, Lokas eyes were bloodshot to the point that his normally golden hues had taken on a sick tint of orange that made them look like smelting pots for brass. Glowing molten pits of fire and brass. Lokas feinted a jab with his right, blondie fell for it. He tried Lokas own tactic of putting his shoulder in the way of a punch that wasn't coming. Incidentally, he also turned his body so his face was right in the path of the powerful roundhouse kick that Lokas was about to deliver. In a lucid moment, the marine managed to raise both his fists boxer-style to protect his face but the impact of the kick knocked him back, causing him to stumble. Lokas capitalized on this moment. Throwing out more low, diagonal kicks to the man's knees. He was trying to knock the man to the ground to set him up for a finish move, but the not quite fat bastard was having none of it. He was hurting, that was obvious. The roundhouse had thrown him off balance and these kicks were doing nothing to help his wobbling back and forth. Finally, Blondie engaged in a last ditch move. He was the heavier man, so he lowered his head and tried to charge Lokas, wrestling style to bring him to the ground. It was a terrible, terrible error in judgment. Lokas had come to the Philippines to learn Eskrima, and now was the time to put it into practice. He used the technique known as Baliog Pomali. Lokas' left hand grabbed the wrist of Blondie's right arm, disallowing him from getting a grip on Lokas. His right arm went behind Blondie's head so that his elbow rested on the back of the Marine's neck. His hand went under the man's arm, essentially grabbing his armpit. Lokas brought the man to the mat with this technique, dropping to a kneel and bringing all of his weight and strength down with that elbow of his on the back of the man's neck. It wasn't particularly surprising with the suddenness of this drop and the force applied to the back of the man's neck that a loud crack silenced the cheering audience and left only one man living in the ring. It didn't take a genius to deduce that Lokas had accidently killed the man, and it didn't take an expert to tell you that Lokas didn't much care either. He dropped the corpse like a sack of meat and stood up to take a few deep breaths. Finally, he raised his right hand in victory and grinned sadistically at the female referee.