After millennia of slumber, the ponies of Tambelon have awoken. For good or ill, they set their sights on the surface.
After hours of work, copious hoof pointing, and what amounted to a lifetime of frustration, the herd created a rough pidgin to communicate with the outsiders. While fewer than ten ponies in the herd spoke it, quite a bit had been communicated.
The white one, for example, had conveyed the lack of any need for battle.
Other things proved far harder to communicate.
A small team of ponies eventually arrived, carrying no weaponry but intent upon approaching injured herd members with small and unidentified tools. Thankfully, Thunderstruck recognized a few of those tools as medical equipment and diffused the situation.
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