With each buck, Gaucho began to grunt as the strain began to creep up on him. Aryel had landed multiple kicks to his chest, and although he was in physically good shape, and used to enduring pain, the strain of maintaining his backward bucking-momentum in the mud was starting to take effect. His back ached with each buck, and he noticed that he had been holding his breath, only taking in quick sips of air when his muscles briefly relaxed. They were oxygen deprived, and if he didn't hit his target soon, he would have to come up with a different strategy. He hardly even registered Aryel's squeal of pain as the mud hit her in the face, unable to discern the sound from the pounding rain, and his own lathered breathing. He had moved back about 7 feet now, and as he had anticipated, she had indeed moved, for he continued to strike only air and mud. Expectantly, he waited for her lithe blue form to appear next to him, jutting in for a strike to his shoulder, but none came.

Where is sar-gent Aryel? His mind wondered, even his thoughts primitive and his wording poorly phrased. Has she been injured? Had there perhaps been a rock in the mud, which had hit her in the eye? Although Gaucho often played rough, feeling as though his superiors ought to be able to take a punch or two, he never intended any serious harm to come to the finely built blue girl. Just as he was about to steady himself and turn around, he felt the sensation of air being pushed down around him. Cautiously raising his gaze, he watched her soft underbelly clearing his height. Had the rain not been a factor, he might have heard her lack of foot-falls on the ground, indicating that she had taken flight. If so, she was in a precarious position, as well timed buck, or even a rear leading with his shoulder, could injure her organs from this angle. But that had not happened - Aryel was too finely built - her bones seemingly much more hollow than his, to allow for such immediate flight, and the rain had masked her ascent over his large bay form. Good…Sar-gent He thought approvingly, deciding that for all her bitching about sparring in the rain, that perhaps she did have what it took to be a warrior, despite her size and sex.


As she landed before him, flicking her tail in his face, a squeal of desire escaped his lips, as his flaring nostrils took in her scent. Standing tall, Gaucho quite elegantly pranced forward towards her, ears pricked forward and a bright light in his steely blue eyes. Sparring with a worthy female adversary always put him in the mood. His mane and forelock were matted against his deep bay hide; the odd sun-like marking over his left eye standing out brightly, seemingly unaffected by the rain. With a grunt, and an attempt at humour, Gaucho said, "Urgh say thank-you to sar-gent Ar-yel" Lowering his nose to his chest, until the bone which pierced the cartilage there, touched his soon-to-be-bruished shoulder, he bowed respectfully. "I am Gaucho."

[Summary: Bucks until he see's her flying over head. Prances to meet her once she lands and actually introduces himself.

Attack: None.
Defence: None.]