Nimbus again purrs quietly, especially near the campfires in Stonard. He's got his Tauren back, chaotic as he has become. Nimbus isn't sure what to make of him; his mind has become crowded, with moments of total lucidity. He's never felt so much a part of his Tauren.
It's been a number of weeks since their return, Nimbus can't remember exactly how many. His Tauren is recovered from his wounds, and has finally begun to learn from the Ghost Saber.
The Ghost Saber stands, yawns and stretches, realizing his Tauren had wandered off. He's been doing that a lot more, lately. Nimbus finds him hovering over a cauldron of stew, stopping his stirring occasionally to stare at the maelstrom inside. Nimbus brushes against his leg, and the Tauren tosses a piece of meat from the stew to the ground. Nimbus digs in as the Tauren turns to serve one of the Orcs standing nearby.
"It's okay," says his Tauren. "Might need a little more Northern Spice. Southern's too..." he slurps from his spoon, "too loud." The Orc takes a bowl and a Blood Elf steps forward. Nimbus' Tauren continues his work, but a voice from him becomes clear to the Ghost Saber. There are images of fiery skies and ashen mountain ranges.
A question: "Why the Grin?"
An image of Thandol Span flashes into the Ghost Saber's mind, a young Tauren surrounded by Humans, Dwarves and Gnomes.
"Silence..."
The man is Virroth. There is a challenger to his message. A shaman.
Images of the Altar of Storms pass through Nimbus' mind. Present are members of Blacktooth Grin, a dead human and hovering nearby is an image of his Tauren's Orc friend--another lost to Deathwing's breach.
His Tauren looks weak, pale, and shivers slightly. Nimbus strains on the image of the bear spirit that accompanies his Tauren there. The Ghost Saber shivers. His mind plays a few more images out of order. He watches his Tauren drink from a concoction of the human's remains and pass it along. His Tauren is of the beasts on this altar.
The Ghost Saber stands, yawns and stretches. The cauldron has become cold, and the Grin have mostly gone to their beds. Nimbus' Tauren is still nearby, gazing into a dying campfire.
"You're looking rested." The Tauren stands and turns to Nimbus. The Tauren nods. "Good."
The Tauren's mind speaks through the Ghost Saber. "Not all is clear yet, Tauren. Clarity doesn't reside alone on that altar, remember that. Learn to quiet your mind. Assimilate that which has been revealed to you. Only then can you hope to rise to the challenge of that night. Only then can you hope to aid the Mok'gun in guiding the feral spirits of the Blacktooth Grin."
The Tauren finishes his stew and retires to his tent. Nimbus settles outside near the fire, which has only a short time left.