The General was dead.

The thought weighed heavily on Gaucho's mind, even though he had never met the Ardent. He had seen the look on the faces of those who arrived at his grave, as they mourned his spirit; watched as the God's of the Heavens seemed to part the clouds just to welcome his essence into the Great Fields of the Sky. He had stayed, only to ensure that they would be allowed to grieve in privacy, but now it was his turn to grieve. Gaucho was not a rank-climber; the fact that the General was gone, did not immediately cause his mind to pause, and consider the open-spot. Instead, it made him think of My-dus, and the extra weight upon his painted shoulders - of the herd in general, both of their grief, and their need to remain protected. Gaucho was not the most poetic of creatures - not even close. He could hardly even be called articulate, yet as he watched the tears spill from their eyes, and the goodbye’s whispered from the mouths of his leaders, he too wished to commemorate the fallen General, in some small meaningful way. But the only way that the primitive creature knew how to express himself, was through battle.

Gaucho had only ever been the the Heavenly Fields once, when he heard a strange tribal singing. Following the sound, he found a set of antlers, which, upon further inspection, magically affixed themselves to his brow. The wonders did not cease there though, as the brute quickly found out; the antlers were infused with magic. The spirits of the dead could pour through the dream-catcher interwoven between the tines, aiding him in battle. Although Gaucho was sure that Azzuen himself would not pour from Gaucho’s antlers, the bay would be proud to spill blood for the fallen General, and call forth a spirit in his honor.

As lightning flashed in the dewy morning sky, Gaucho’s steely grey-blue eyes were diverted to the heaven’s, wherein a dusty pegasus was descending. Snorting, the bone which pierced his nose moving slightly, Gaucho moved his large self swiftly forward, eyes intent on the form of the newcomer. His trot towards him was fairly aggressive: Gaucho carried his tail quite high, and his head carriage was high as well, ears forward and nostrils flaring. As he came closer to Note, he was able to distinguish the dusty smell of the Throat, even amongst the scent of dawn and lightening which clung to him. His gaze washed over the stallion, as always sizing him up for a spar. He noted that the stallion had a more slender build than he did, and was several inches smaller. Still, after sparring with Aryel who was decidedly more delicate than He, as well as with the wolf Ayaka, Gaucho knew that size didn’t always need to play a substantial role.

Two things happened to Gaucho, almost simultaneously. The first, was the automatic understanding that this Throat-Brother, was looking for a spar. Maybe it was instinctual, or perhaps it was simply the fighting spirit within Gaucho, recognizing its counterpart in another; regardless, it was known without doubt. The second, was an odd feeling of propulsion; of wind. The magic of the winds that he had been briefly blessed with at Azzuen’s funeral reception billowed forth from what felt like Gaucho’s very soul. His core seemed to be buffeted by the winds themselves, as a small windstorm erupted around himself, and moved swiftly towards Note. Following directly behind the whirl of chaotic winds, the bay grunted as his long legs swiftly covered the ground beneath him, bringing him closer to Note. Keeping his gaze fixed on the stallion’s left shoulder to ensure that he was aware of any changes in position that he might attempt to make, Gaucho lowered his antlered-brow as soon as he was a mere stride away. He aimed his antlers at Note’s left flank, towards where his rib cage ended, so that as he passed, he could also attempt to thrust his left shoulder into Note’s. As he passed parallel to the stallion, Gaucho turned his chin in to the right, to protect his thick skull should Note’s hooves dance outward to meet him. As he did this, with a grunt of effort, he kicked his hind legs out, hoping to kick into Note’s left hip.

Gaucho could feel his lusciously long tail flying about as he moved - the feathers in his dream catcher as well - as they were buffeted by the windstorm. Gaucho had never used such magic before, and felt exhilarated by the thrill.

[Gaucho will be using the Battle Buff Endure
WC: 793
Summary: Gaucho sees Note and trots forward, identifying him by scent as from the Throat. Understanding he wants to spar (as per our OOC conversation), Gaucho runs towards him, unleashing a whirlwind as per the magic bestowed upon him at Azzuen's funeral. He runs at Note head on, passing him on Note's left. He aims his antlers to graze Note's left flank, and tries to knock into his shoulder as he passes. He bucks as he charges by, aiming for Note's left thigh, and tucks his nose to the right.

Attack: 1/2 Wind Storm at Note, Antlers to Note's left Flank. Shoulder-check to left shoulder, buck towards left hip.
Defense: Tucks his nose in to the right should Note try to kick out at him to protect head head.]