Gaucho watched with a flat, dead stare as the white equine approached. It was possible that his coat was marred by some other colour, but given the de-saturated light, it was hard to tell. Besides, Gaucho's colour-vocabulary wasn't that extensive; he just looked white. He was clearly an arabian - his delicate and dished face giving away his lineage immediately, and he stood a few inches shorter than Gaucho. As he raced towards the brute, Gaucho momentarily considered charging towards him as well - in his minds-eye he pictured their bodies crashing together, his teeth tearing into that white flesh, and his dinner-plate sized hooves crunching down on those lovely slender bones. It was a tantalizing thought, one that made the bay's muscles tense, and his hooves dance on the spot as he anxiously waited for his opponent to near.

As the new-comer introduced himself, Gaucho merely grunted; he didn't care for names. If the stallion sparred with him well, perhaps then he would go through the trouble of remembering what he called himself. As he didn't smell of the Throat, Gaucho decided that there was little else of importance he needed to know about the white steed, before the spar began. Spreading his enormous black wings, Gaucho drew himself up to his full height, and snorted menacingly down at the arabian.

As Arrane reared, Gaucho pinned his ears back to his skull, flashing his teeth viciously as he opened his maw in a wide snarl. From within the very bowels of his soul, he could feel it. Azzuen's magic; or so he had come to think of it. It was the magic which was bestowed on the group of mourners who attended Azzuen's funeral, and it now stirred within his belly, furiously demanding to be let out. With a loud neigh, a wind seemed to erupt from nowhere, spinning into a tight windstorm. The gale moved directly towards Arrane, as the white stallion moved towards Gaucho's right flank. In a split second, his mind calculated where his best odds lay: Hopefully being disoriented by the windstorm plus the time it would take the stallion to rear, would given Gaucho time to either pivot to attack with his antlers, or turn the opposite direction and buck. Given the height differences between the two, instinctively Gaucho felt his considerable rump could take the beating better.

As Arrane reared, Gaucho let himself be pulled by the windstorm, spinning his hind end to the right, perpendicular to the rearing stallion. Bucking towards Arrane's exposed belly, Gaucho aimed squarely for his gut, firing both hind legs out simultaneously. With a grunt of pain, he felt Arrane's hooves drag down the back of his thighs as his legs snapped back to his body. As his back hooves hit the ground again, Gaucho bucked once more, aiming for Arrane's chest or his face of he was stupid enough to have lower it once he landed, assuming that he was still behind him.

[Summary: Gaucho calls forth a small wind storm as Arrane moves to his right flank and rears. Spinning his hind end towards the rearing stallion, Gaucho bucks at his stomach. Arrane's hooves scrape down Gaucho's thighs, and as Gaucho's hooves land on the ground, he bucks again towards Arrane's chest.

Attack: 1/2 Magic use 1/2: Sends a windstorm towards Arrane. Bucks x 2