[@Liliya]

[i]Zande wasn't a Jiu Jitsu expert. His technique was born of animal instinct, rough and tumble, a basic knowledge of tangling gained from rolling around with his kin before he'd been banished. Then, a situation like this came along. He didn't need the wisdom of B.J Penn to know that, well... This was just plain silly. She was trying to wrastle him while on her back, her grip no higher than his plated shins. When he peered over his shoulder, he'd had a swell sight of that dagger too. All in all, he didn't feel like he normally did. When he felt that wicked high octane fire crackling in his chest and burbling out his mouth like dragon breath, when he felt those jolts of neon power shooting through his veins like a drug, goading him on as he cast aside all inhibitors and flew into battle as a true monster among men. No, he was in a different mode, the mindset he takes with him when he wants to kill for food or fur, rather than pleasure. This wasn't Zande the Demon, this was Zande the Hunter. He'd wanted not to hone his ferocity, but his wit this time, yet his deviation from the path of a lunatic devil had brought him here, farting and screaming at this person who currently had the world's best view of a black man's sweat stained, skidmarked taints. No, Zande didn't feel happy with this decision. He just KNEW everyone would be laughing at him now. Nonetheless, he had to keep goin'.

When Abbey tried to roll onto her side from her strange position, Zande knew he didn't want to lose this position. He abandoned his previous idea to splay on his side and stab her through the skull as she tangled with his feet. Instead he slid his arms out wider, right hand finding the grip of his battleaxe as he shoved his weight backwards and in the opposite direction Abbey had tried to manouver, bending his knees further and splaying them out to either side to force her back onto her back, to just about sit on her upper chest as he used his shins to pin her biceps down, intending to roll her arms out like dough, her left in particular to the point of pinning her forearm to render the stabby stabby useless. He wanted to brutally smooth that arm against the sand before she cut any precious tendons or dug into his thigh meat. She might've had his ankles in a fairly solid hold, but you can only manipulate two limbs at once so well while clutching a knife in one hand. An overhand grip is the strongest practical grip achievable in Jiu Jitsu, as crossing your fingers is a good way to lose 'em and a thumb is easily manipulated. She'd only be able to achieve a one handed overhand grip, and the rest would rely on her trying to guillotine Zande's feet. If it was a recipie for anything, that recipie was for a 'get sat on cake'.

The end result Zande sought was to use his upright position, good, wide balance, and nearly 200 pound grown ass man weight to lay Abbey out with brute force and sit on her boobs, like Homer Simpson working his donut addled tush into his favorite chair with relish, right shin pinning her left bicep and left shin pinning her right forearm. It was essentially a schoolyard high mount, and though it wasn't the most practical thing in the wide world of wrestling, a fifty pound difference in weight made it plenty viable. He was aware that she might try to buck him by using the strength in her hips, but that wouldn't be particularly effective unless he was closer to her center mass, and didn't have his paws supporting him well. She might try to kick at him or knee him in the back perhaps, but she wasn't about to break his spine or pop his liver through his armor, or reach his head whilst he was hunched over her. Could she tilt her head up and try to bite at his junk? Maybe, but he had a tough, smooth leather codpiece on. He wasn't a damn Scot, he wore proper jungle undies to keep biting bugs and crap off his shit.[/i]