Gaucho needed to fight, the way a drunkard needed a drink, or a lover needed a soft caress. Likely, Gaucho needed the sensation of flesh pounding against his own, in the same way Sohalia needed him to be a father. The brute might have been able to piece together what it was she expected of him, on his own, had the lights not gone out. However, as the skies suddenly blackened and the sun failed to rise, all of Gaucho's mental capacities turned to the protection of his herd.

After notifying My-dus of what he had witnessed and felt (the loss of his magic), while on patrol, the brute had departed from the Dragon's Throat, to see if the blackness extended all the way across Helovia, or only in certain parts. As he ventured away from the Flames that burned brightly in his home, he was shocked to find trees alight with an eerie glow, every where he turned. The world was cast in a monochromatic haze all around him. It was only as he made his way into the Heavenly Fields - landing with a forceful impact upon the hardened and dying grasses, that the urge to spar burned brightly in his veins. This - everything around him - it was all too much for his simplistic mind to understand. He needed to vent this frustration somehow, and as fighting was his most instinctive reflex and source of enjoyment, his mind naturally found its way there.

Confidently, if not a little haphazardly, Gaucho pranced around the centre of the meadow, where the light of a few lamp-trees created a circular aura on the grasses, causing them to appear blue-green. Tossing his antlered brow several times, in an indicative portrayal of come fight me, the large bay danced about, carelessly bucking into the non-existant breeze. Finally, halting this display, Gaucho flared his pierced nostrils - his stormy gaze surveying the dimly lit field. Some one come! he silently pleaded, as a dizzying feeling of claustrophobia gripped his mind. It was ideas that were causing this feeling of closing-in, rather than any physical sensation. Never before this moment, had the warrior's mind been so overloaded with thought and responsibility. Gaucho Warrior! he thought, shaking his head and snorting.

Spreading his massive black wings, Gaucho reared towards the sky, biting where the moon should have been, and tearing at the dark heavens with his hooves.

[Setting: Heavenly Fields - Time of day - hard to say. In a flat spot, where the tree-lamps are casting reasonable light.

WC: 401
MC___ * Shall we say none, since magic is gone?
Attack: 0/3
Closing Defence: 0/1]