Gaucho might not have had a Ma to teach him manners, but what he did have, was a father to teach him tactics. Here's an easy one - a freebie: don't just run at mother fuckers who are bigger than you. Gaucho wasn't by any stretch of the imagination, a deceptively strong opponent. He had the hair and chest muscles to rival any romance-novel stud, and had a venomous snake just chillin' in his antlers. Yes, antlers. Sure they were all the rage now, but Gaucho had his before the bandwagon took off. Not only that, but his were glowing, thanks to the Sun God. Oh, do you need a few more warning signs? Sure. How about the COLLAR OF BONE SPIKES ON HIS CHEST (here's a fun little morsel for you to chew on: where do you think he got those bones?). Okay, okay, last one and then i'll be done: You know how poisonous things are usually brightly coloured, to tell other critters "HAY. YOU WILL DIE IF YOU EAT ME SO DON'T" ? Well, Gaucho has a few splashes of colour himself.
tl;dr summary: dumb choice kid.
Gaucho's antlered skull rose slowly as words slowly wafted his way. He didn't understand them, though was vaguely aware that they were directed his way. This assumption was based 100% on the fact that he was now being charged at. Others might have questioned this: Do I know you? Did I do something to you? Are you running away from something? Should I run too? Luckily Gaucho was not burdened by any of these thoughts, instead his mind was calculating the trajectory, and taking into consideration the bloody rays of the sun.
Snorting, the dun advanced towards the stocky youth. His strides were long and confident; if the child wanted to feel their flesh slam into his, he would be more than happy to oblige. But youth or not, he would not go easy. This was their doing, and he would let them experience the mistake of it in time.
His wings opened slightly as he ran, and then slightly more. When he gauged he was roughly 15 feet away, his wings beat towards his flanks sending a wave of fire towards the oddly patterned mini-God. Of course Gaucho didn't know about this lineage, though the knowledge would not have changed his decision. He would never turn away from one who wanted to test their might and merit against his.
Grunting, the WildFire tried to position himself on the unicorn's left side. Roskuld - who Gaucho took to be a boy (because really, who wouldn't), was a few hands shorter than he, which made his normal tackle-style attack rather difficult. He hadn't fought an opponent this small since...Aryel? And how many seasons ago was that? Perhaps it was good that the black-stamped boy-child had initiated this little dance. He obviously needed the practice. Following in the wake of his flames, he attempted to drop his left shoulder and slam his left side into Ros's own - if his spikes should tear into flesh, all the better.
As his shoulder lowered and his body leaned to the left, Gaucho felt an uncomfortable twinge thrum through the area. It literally felt as if a string had been plucked, and was now vibrating waves of discomfort through his shoulder, and down to his hoof. He couldn't tell if it had been the work of the boy (/girl), or if he had simply over-exerted himself. Either way, his balance was suddenly off, and he felt his normal sure-footed strides careening off to the right to try and compensate for the discomfort in his left shoulder. This move to the right was aided by the impact of his (/her) body against his - shoving him farther over to the right rather ungracefully.
As he passed and his lungs sucked in oxygen, he realized with an astonished snort that the boy was a she. Or at the very least, it tasted and smelled like a she - both senses that Gaucho was very familiar with. Although the dun was not a creature who placed particular emphasis on what society deemed socially acceptable appearance-wise, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for the boy girl.
Then again, maybe that was just his shoulder.
WC: 732
Attack: 1/3
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[JUDGED] No One Talks About Fight-Club
