[ WP ] You 're at a funeral . The deceased was an evil and terrible person but his last act was one of pure selflessness and good . You are to give his eulogy .

“ We ’ re gathered here today to, uh, commemorate and - *hack* - happily remember the passing of… Trevor? ” 
 
 I stared incredulously at the prompt, sitting truthfully in front of me. His name was *Trevor*?! I ’ d been fighting the Arch-Necromancer of Lorthalias for 27 years and *his name was Trevor*! I looked around the sordid assembly in front of me: 273 necromancers, ranging from teenagers to the straight up dead, each one taught and raised by the Unholy, Evil abomination known as the Arch-Necro- I mean *Trevor*. 
 
 As it turns out, they were all orphans, the result of a brutal and bloody civil conflict, that started 28 years ago. Unfortunately, the carnage left by said conflict had attracted a young, spirited necromancer. From the view of the holy paladin order, an ancient evil had awoken, imbuing a worthy host with the power to conquer the known world, utilising the disgusting yet infinite strength of necromancy. However, having gone through his detailed journals after his death, his story was much different. 
 
 A young, intelligent and compassionate mage had been living in the woods, quietly studying forbidden magics with no ill-intent, simply seeking to learn the knowledge and wisdom of old arcana. One day, he heard the clashing of swords, the pungent smell of blood and the fires of destruction. He rushed to investigate, only to find thousands dead, broken, mangled and burnt, bodies left to the uncaring crows. Probing deeper into this, he learnt of a proud king and the jealous nobles who had manufactured this conflict for personal gain, none of them remotely fit to rule anything. In a rage, he made a rash decision: if the world would not know peace he would show it to them. He raised an army of the dead, using the war to amass larger and larger numbers in secret, until he marched on the capital, where the king was executed. Then he moved onto removing the nobles, then their supporters. And, after a seven-year conquest, he proceeded to rule the lands himself for another twenty. That is, until the paladin order, an order devoted to the destruction of necromancy, finally got to him. 
 
 When we burst the door into the throne room, we knew he hadn ’ t harmed the land, its people, its towns and its cities in his rule. But necromancy was necromancy. It stemmed from the anger and anguish of the soul, and had to be destroyed. 
 
 We expected a fight. We expected to lose. We expected him to laugh as he raised our bodies as rotting mimics of life. Instead, he set down his staff, knelt before us, and bared his neck. He told us how necromancy was wrong, how he should have never abused its power, and finally asked us, as a boon for his surrender, to finish him quickly. 
 
 So now, as the one who disobeyed my superiors and acquiesced to his last words, I had been asked to give his eulogy. The situation was fucked up, I mean, my training – my *instincts* - were telling me to smite every one the mourners, right here and now. Besides, what was I meant to say? He was a good man? He worked tirelessly for peace? First and foremost, the man was evil. Some could argue that his intentions justified his actions, but my own philosophy was clear: actions, not thoughts, are the judge of your soul. In the end even he couldn ’ t justify his own actions – of course! The inspiration came thick and fast, as I cleared my throat to speak. 
 
 “ I would ask everyone here to remain silent as I speak, and do not react prematurely to some of the things I am about to say. 
 
 Trevor was not a good man. He used powers that relied on the evils in the soul, powers that tore apart children from their parents, powers that delved a kingdom into unholy war. There can be no vindication for his actions. 
 
 But. He knew this. When he spoke his last words, I didn ’ t see evil. I saw remorse. I saw all the pain he had caused lingering in his conscious. He wanted release. Just as he ’ d delivered justice to the unworthy rulers before him, he hoped that someone else, someone righteous would deliver upon him, the same justice. 
 
 As I may have mentioned, in this life, we will not see him forgiven. Maybe not in the next, nor in the life after that. This will not stop his spirit. His spirit will work tirelessly, for all of eternity, to find our forgiveness. While actions may be the judge of the soul, it is the intentions of man that can redeem it. 
 
 Thank you. ” 
 
 It was slow at first, but one by one, each of them raised a closed fist in the air. It was the traditional symbol of respect. Soon, the whole room was filled with raised hands, and Trevor the Lich, seizing the opportunity, leapt up and blew the paladin to pieces. 
 
 THE END 

