This video (*Click*) shows the reverse cresent technique. Only what he calls an “Inside-outside cresent” is what I call a Reverse Cresent (and what he calls a “Reverse Crescent” I call a Spinning Reverse Crescent.”) Then instead of putting the foot down, add a side kick at the end.
WC: 614
Before the dark female could escape, the enemy’s teeth found purchase in her flesh. The sensation of pain was dulled within her mind by the adrenalin and sanguine darkness coursing strongly through her blood. But she knew that the pain must be there. The exotic beauty of the enslaved one grew distorted as her maw grew terrible with a snarl of utter blackness. The way in which he had bit her did not allow for safe movement of her neck if she wished to minimize damage—and the fighter did wish for such a thing: she was a fighter, her weapon was her body. And the Korean woman’s body grew still for that brief moment. And yet, the enemy did not stay to truly destroy the flesh there. His attention was averted by something else—by his comrade, perhaps. It was for the benefit of the Salsolan slave. It was that 운—luck—was good for her. Her enemy’s concern with things not immediate to their battle had given her the upper hand this time. Through that terrible snarl, the Jindo-wolf’s black lips curled in a mirthless sneer.
He was close enough.
Her own jaws leapt forth like the jaws of some black snake, seeking to sink those strong, white teeth into her flesh. She caught him not upon his throat, nor his shoulder, for those places had grown far as he had lifted his body to observe his comrade. Those teeth found him on his chest, below his collar bone. Her teeth sought to tear into the pectoral muscles, to tear into the anterior axilla. Perhaps there would be some nerve damage. In the least, his muscles’ actions would be compromised, and bleeding profuse. She would be able to taste his blood and savor in it. The sensation that the enemy’s blood brought to her caused her body to shudder, as if in delight. The black head shook violently twice before she pushed her body away for her own escape, throwing away the disadvantage of being supine upon the earth. Once again, she would regain her ground.
Her escape, however, gave him enough time to draw his bow. He pointed it at her, and the black fae paused. Her facial features, still distorted in that terrible, smiling snarl, seemed unphased. Blood throbbed from the wound upon her neck—thankfully superficial. It grew swollen, and when the fight was done, it would become tight and painful. But for now, it was nothing but a damp, hot reminder of a wound within the back of her mind. The shattered mind seemed to calculate her situation. It seemed there was no escape. There was nothing left to do but attack.
The arrow was released and shot through the thin air. With amazing speed she twisted her body to the side in an attempt to avoid it. The attempt was only partially successful, as it graced the skin beneath the jugular notch of her sternum. It burned her like the sting of an angry wasp. She snarled, growling as the arrow flew by. But the arrow was dangerously close to Salvia—the white orbs made the calculation in her periphery. As Salvia’s personal slave, the Korean fighter could not allow such a thing. A frown crossed her dark lips as she straightened her body once more. The obsidian female threw a reverse crescent kick block aimed at the bow with power enough to shatter the weapon in two. As the kick passed through, without placing the foot upon the ground, she would aim a front leg side kick to his solar plexus before throwing her body back into a hand spring and dashing toward her master’s side.
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