The longer Panzram stood there looking through the blurring veil that somehow separated himself with his company, Hector, the more distant his fluorescent colored eyes traveled. If the strange thing hadn't up and mysteriously flown off, the ebony cloaked stallion probably wouldn't have been able to tear himself away out of his own will. Once he had given his cranium a quick shaking to draw out all of that weirdness from his facials, Panzram pried his ebony lips apart... but before he was able to ask questions about the presence of the ghostly figure, his for now companion commenced to talking about Dragons Throat, his home and herd. Hector's words were soothing, and for a reason that wasn't exactly known to Panzram, a certain part of him longed for those warm climates and bordering seas.    

Rounded, golden eyes softly meeting at a close only to reopen into an imaginary setting of a place rather similar with the environment just described by his hybrid friend. It was so familiar, yet so unfamiliarly loved. The terrain was for the most part barren and had nothing at all to look at with any sort of interest, but as the sun was falling behind it's flat grounds off in the distance, there was a moment of beauty that struck the dark stallion with a pure sensation of bliss. Panzram recalled this little slice of heaven as his birthplace, but at the mention of notorious armies from Hector, everything suddenly took a turn for the worse. There was so much blood, so many dead bodies just lying out there in the boiling heat of the desert.  The smell was almost unbearable, and the scene was just horrific. 

Panzram couldn't - no he wouldn't ever involve himself with such violence ever again! Even if it were possible...

With a gasp jumping free of his clutched lips, reality washed back over the brightly decorated Pegasus just as the sound of snow crunching below hoof came into range. Giving a quick, suspicious glance at Hector, as to take in his reaction to such a sudden outburst of panic, Panzram shakily turned to meet his second Helovian citizen. While hoping he hadn't embarrassed himself, Panzram fought down the nervousness that was quickly arising within his empty belly and traced his weary eyes over the new stranger. A black painted stallion with white splotches and a randomly colored horn protruding from just above a pair of orange eyes. He certainly didn't waste time with introductions and further detailing of his own place that he called home, Windtossed Foothills. It sounded like a lovely location with much promised vegetation to feed his rumbling belly with, but there were thoughts of worry that plagued his mind about it's frigid climates.

 Apollo, as he had named himself, along with the tagging of being an Earth Medic, put up a good enough argument... but Panzram was all to flustered about his fear of war to make any sort of decision at the moment, more questioning was required. "Ahh, why hello, Apollo." Before continuing, Panzram gave his newest acquaintance a friendly smile which was then following by a welcoming dip of his head. "Hmmm, mercenaries you say? I'm not quite sure I'd fit in with you in the Foothills, but then again, I'm not very sure I'll fit in anywhere with fighting." Panzram's body was screaming with protest, it thirsted for the thrill of battle once more, but the time of bloodshed has passed for him and his screeching body. "For what I can lastly remember, I've always been in situations where combat has been required for survival and extinction. Although I would love to give my life in the service of my rulers and fellow herd members, I'm not certain that I'll be able to withstand much more wear an tear." Slowly, the golden feathered brute passed his bright stare around, exchanging looks of understanding with both fellow studs. "I hope you both would still have a place for me within your ranks. If at all possible, I'd rather not be some commoner. I wish to be helpful in anyway that I may."