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With fire to keep us warm, and tools we made from rocks and bones
Reverence was never something Gaucho wanted, especially on the battle field. He didn't want to be revered, he wanted to be tested. Since his ascension it was as if those around him were even more afraid of his bulk and his flames than ever they were before. It made little sense to the dun. Growing up, all the colts in his herd always eyed their Khal with a youthful jealousy. A yearning deep within their tiny bodies to overtake he who was strongest. Perhaps it was fueled by their bubbling testosterone as it filled the nooks and crannies of their growing bodies, but never once did any of the youths of his previous herd ever shy away from a fight. Especially not with the male who stood at the top of the totem pole. Here however, things were so much different. His warriors occasionally were up for a spar, but most of his herd shied away from any sort of physical confrontation with their Khal. While certainly the dun could understand their hesitancy - he was the most battle-trained out of all of them - he could not understand their fear.
Fear of injury was one thing. Fear of losing was another. Calm seas do not make for accomplished sailors. So why did no one dare to step into the ring with him?
With all the recent chaos of magical bridges, Confutatis and invasions, the day-to-day attention of his warriors had been left in Ampere's capable hands. So it had pleased him greatly when the young warrior had, almost as soon as he had joined the ranks, asked for a spar. As far as first impressions went, Cathun was making a good one.
The salty scent of the breeze buffeted towards Gaucho, pulling back his oddly luxurious mane and streaming it behind his skull. His steely gaze was fixated upon the young warrior, his attention given solely to the equine. It was easy to block out the cries of the gulls overhead and the crashing waves - such were the sounds of his home. The wind however was already causing his eyes to water, though the sensation pleased Gaucho: Cathun was already using the landscape to his advantage. Good.
Gaucho's pierced nose dipped downwards as he returned the grullo's bow. As his antlered skull returned to its original position, the Wildfire stood completely calmly - his wings folded easily against his sides, his head held high, and his breathing normal and relaxed. Even as a war cry left the leaner stallion's lips and his body hurtled forward, Gaucho remained stationary. If the boy wanted to tire himself out by running across the sands, that was his business. However Gaucho was sure that even with whatever arab-heritage the warrior possessed, he would still have rather conserved his energy rather than expelling it immediately.
Once Cathun was a few strides out, Gaucho allowed his well-muscled body to engage. Lifting his right foreleg, Gaucho struck the bloody sands sending a tremor outwards. War stomp was a gift he had received from Kri when he first entered her ranks as a warrior, and it was a magic that he always found useful. Hoping to knock the youngster off balance, Gaucho lunged forward and into Cathun's attack. If he wanted to feel Gaucho up close, then the dun would happily oblige. As his larger frame rocketed forwards, the dun thought he saw the glimpse of teeth out of the corner of his eye. Was the boy trying to bite him? A wry grin parted Gaucho's lips at the thought. The price of Gaucho's flesh was a bloody nose.
Without a horn to protect Cathun's face, Gaucho was free to throw his body around without fear of puncturing himself. It was a lesson in strategy he hoped Cathun would learn quickly. Gaucho's plan was to use his bulk to shove the lighter stallion back. The boy had more speed coming in, but Gaucho was larger, more experienced, and more thickly built. The Wildfire felt the sharp pain of teeth on the left side of his neck but it quickly faded: the ashen warrior had barely even left a mark.
Hoping to have shoved Cathun backwards, or at least completely halted his forward momentum, Gaucho lowered his antlered crown, hoping to use his antlers to simultaneously scrape down the left side of Cathun's neck and shoulder, and force him further backwards. The Wildfire's ever-burning wings flared from his sides and pushed forwards, hoping to create the illusion that Cathun had no where to go but backwards. Even if the boy knew that the current flames on Gaucho's wings were harmless, he had to know that Gaucho did not get the name Wildfire from illusory fire.
Attack:1/3
WC: 784
Gaucho uses war stomp to knock Cathun off of balance, and then lunges forward, basically throwing his whole weight into Cathun's attack, hopefully hurting his nose/neck. He takes a small bite to his neck, and then lowers his antlers to try and scrape down Cathun's left neck/shoulder and force him backwards.
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Stoke the fire, let it burn [Cathun vs Gaucho]
