The Lament of Farmhand Geist: The great escape


The screams of the dying vanguard was still ringing in our ears. I remember this: We clamored for a foothold, all of us. Struggling up across a muddy slope, one by one reaching the ridge. Then Shuanna fell back, slipping on mud and loose rocks. She struggled for foothold on that slippery slope when a green hand shot out from the mist and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t have time to protest. One second her feet was slipping on raw, red Draenor mud. The next second she flew upwards as an orc grunted deeply. Then she landed on her knees in front of him. He let go of her wrist and took a step back, looking down on her with a faint smile.

“Almost lost you there, friend,” he said, his eyes still glowing with embers of elemental fire. She looked into his eyes as she stood up. She didn’t sheathe her mace. It was quite a tense moment, you know. Then she said:

“I will never be your friend, orc!”

It is rare to see such hatred in draenei eyes … and that’s when I said (in my hoarse voice; I truly think I saved an orc that day): “Archenon poros, shaman.”

I wonder why some of the freed slaves started to laugh. Well, giggle. You see, all of the above – that’s how I remember it all. They laughed. Even Shuanna laughed, though she didn’t take her burning, angry eyes off Thrall.

Then we were off. She told Vassie later on – who told Master – that she cared not to remember what happened next. I understand. I’m immune to panic, it’s not a thing with us redeemed Scourge. Not much anyway. For the living, well …

The frantic flight through the scattered lines of the Iron Horde, in disarray as their portal fell, was a smattering of screams and explosions. I leaped on the back of an orc with a maddening laugh and tore his face to shreds with sharpened saronite. I saved a woman, I think. She scurried off, badly beaten but still alive.

Master slammed someone out of the way of a wagon full of explosives. Kitty crushed the head of a female orc moments before she broke the jaw on another, furious that they had deprived her of her elemental connections; in that moment Kitty the Shaman became Kitty the Warrior, a terrible storm of steel and rage. Or so she said anyway. Before it happened.

I saw Shuanna call down judgement in brilliant light on one monster after another and yet her brilliance was nothing compared to that of the other draenei hero, Maraad (that the name I’m thinking off? Why … yes … it is …).

I saw Vassie – oh, I never grow tired of watching her (don’t tell!). Back to back with Sharenne, the adopted human, the demon tamer. They were hurting orcs with words of shadow and chaos bolts. I saw our shaman, Savenna, throw the very elemental force that Kitty had lost. Strange that. I don’t know how. Nobody does, I think.

Somewhere in that chaos I even caught a glimpse of the Black Sheep (Master calls Rave that when Master’s angry). Ravennah – dancing around with daggers. It looked terribly dangerous. No one had time to ask her why she was, well, sort of elf like.

Yet … Yet! Death comes in many shapes. Yet, when I watched Master walk, almost casually, through trongs of Iron Horde, they all fell.

They all fell!

For every life taken, Master smiled. For every scream, for every festering wound, I heard her breath deeper, and deeper, and deeper. As she cut down an orc, gutting him from the waist to the chin in a single backhand swing, she moaned. I do believe that killing orcs by the bundle is as close to an orgasm a death knight will ever get. But what do I know? I’m just a geist. I look at the naked pictures in that book that Vassie carries around and all I can think of is … well … what body parts would be useful should I ever dare to use the knowledge I … but never mind.

I have never seen Master so calm, so alive, so happy. She smiled. She grinned. Eventually she killed while laughing, panting, moaning. She went out of her way killing things, backtracking through the throng of fleeing slaves. Not until the wizard, Kadghar, yelled “Get back here, you!”, she came to her senses and made a ‘tactical withdrawal’. I dare say, without Master and me by her side many draenei would have died that day. But we saved them – we saved them all!

Ah yes, we saved them … and you know what? On that forsaken morn’ by the iron docks of Tanaan on an alien yet familiar world, we were vengeance. We were retribution. We were justice. We were Death.

The Exodar Sisters were death. They scared me more than even dread Arthas could ever scare. These … peaceful beings, these happy believers. But then they were remorseless. This was the moment of retribution! Of vengance! They sped through the battlefield and they were covered in orc blood! I had never seen draenei like that … never.


“REMEMBER KARABOR!!!” Vasannah shrieked. It was beyond a battle cry. It was as close to a banshee any living can ever get. I know now what Karabor is – what it means. But then I didn’t, and the rage in her eyes… the glee, as a fat orc exploded like a bomb from a single word of death. Such power!

Draenei. Are. Death! How glorious they are! How glorious WE are!

Yes … Much later a very nice girl, her name is Ariannah, told me I was just as much draenei as anyone. Of course, she had a bird on her head so maybe she was crazy.

This I remember:

As Master raced towards the hijacked Iron Horde warship someone grabbed her hand. A child we thought (but I knew better; but who listens to a geist, eh?). I imagine the touch was soft but firm from fear. Master glanced sideways, as I did because what Maste does I do. We saw not a child. We saw the terrified face of a young woman (she might have been scared of me but I think she was more scared of the orcs). Moments later we were aboard the hijacked ship and that’s when Master realised who the woman was.

As did I. But I didn’t tell. Geist know how to keep a secret. We take our secrets to the grave …

“Help me, friend,” the woman said. “Please don¨t let me die. Not here. Please?”
“You’re already dead,” Master said, yanked her younger self onboard and then let go of herself. “You just don’t know it yet.” She gave the woman a long, hard look. “You don’t know me, you never will. Go, sing praise. Forget about me. Trust me, you’ll be happier that way.”
“You … so cold?”
“I’m dead.” Master sighed. I could tell she really didn’t want to do it but there was no other way to shake this newfound friend off her back. “Geist! Over here! Stat!”

Ah … yess …. Yes! Of course I came. I came. Because I am free. Master has set me free (let me tell you that story). I laughed as I skittered across the deck going “Mmmaaah Aaah raaahaaa!“. I do believe I thought it prudent to be as scary as I could. I’m not to bad at being scary, you know.

I scared Master, such as she once were. Master, such as she once were, scurried off with a terrified look on her face, covering in fear close to Maraad. You know what?

Master was rather cute when she was full of life.


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