Whooo went the wind and out went the lights.

It was one of those praises, Argetlam had never really thought about that deeply. It sounded like one of those cutesy phrases parents told their foals because it was spooky, but mostly just rhymed nicely. Yet it popped into his head suddenly, and there was an enormous impact on him suddenly; wasn't that like the situation the Foothills had been placed into? While the wind howled, the lights went out, and they were left in the dark, sitting ducks waiting to be snapped up by marauders and beasts. But the metal-bender wasn't quite sure what the wind was- the thieves of some of the Foothills herd, maybe? Maybe. So the great shire continued to ponder the phrase while he grazed, rubbery lips shifting over teeth mildly yellowed from grazing, tail swishing when the occasion demanded, driving away the pesky flies. His thoughts turned from nursery rhymes to those who had been taken in the past few days, slipped away from the herd remarkably quiet but picking up in pace recently. Madryn and Maskan- he had never met personally before, but through the vague way of communication that occurred when the herd moved together. They had been taken just very recently. And Insanity. Despite her darkness, Argetlam felt he owed loyalty to her, for introducing him to the herd and allowing him inside. Actually, he owed loyalty to everyone in the Foothills, a quietly binding oath he took to heart.

His slightly shaggy ears, caught up in the wild tangles of his flaxen mane, twitched as a voice carried along the air, sweeping forward and bolting his head upright, quivering slightly, nostrils flaring to carefully test the air. It was a familiar scent, of course, one he had never really considered. Always, it had blended into the background, there but not there, vague but consistent. Yet the voice accompanying the scent was filled with a magnificence nobility to it that was like a leader's, and Argetlam began to trot, hooves thudding dully upon the rocky soil. War, he hears, the voice thundering and booming like a furious storm, crackling with electricity. Even he is caught up in a sense of hysteria, the gentle-hearted peacekeeper. Call to arms.

Argetlam arrived quickly, and despite the fact he could probably get away with ramming through the horses with his bulk, he did not. He peered above and around heads, over coats chestnut-red-copper and alabaster, black-and-silver, white and chocolate. Carefully he maneuvered himself around a unicorn with markings akin to an exotic panda, to settle himself beside Aaron, with a nod of his head in greeting. Friends come and go, but family is forever. Yes, but wasn't this his family? Paladin, the silver dapple recalled, the storyteller. Former storyteller? Wha'... Did he have family in the Gray? He said something about daughters. Unaware of the connection between Paladin, Ktulu, and Ophelia, a slight frown remained upon his dark muzzle, and still he listened.

For it was a red roan who spoke, and he had a dragon, magnificently bronze-plated and undoubtedly with a flaming maw. Enthusiasm erupted up from inside him, bursting him into pieces, engulfing every moment of him. Argetlam did have a bit of an obsession with dragons, after all- could one be surprised he was so joyful to finally see one? Hardly did he hear Aaron speak or 'ocket, as Locket said, say anything. He was distracted by the dragon, the glorious creatures who deserved many praises, and perhaps could help him with metal projects! Provided Jackal was willing. For it was Jackal, the metal-crafter realized, with a slight pang of guilt. All this time he had thought Jackal away, but he was simply blending in the background, working on his own projects without a doubt. Leader-ly projects. Never had he thought to introduce himself! Neither had he ever noticed the dragon, which would've warranted a long, rambling paragraph of speech in itself. Feeling the need to introduce himself, the polite Shire spoke up- "I am Argetlam, Aaron's apprentice. I will do my best to help protect the herd, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a fighter. What are we going to do for Romani and the others captured?" The peaceful stallion smiled hesitantly, swishing his sooty, dirty yellow tail. For he wanted to do something for those lost to this world, but what? What could unravel this problem?

[I feel like this is a rambling post but with nothing good in it D: sorry]