The Nightmare Never Ends Part 9

What joyful carnage, what spectacular destruction. What sorrowful cries echo across the desert. Of all the people's cries, the ones you expect least to be full of sorrow are those of the Veldrani. Giant men and women filled with purpose and cold stoicism, their despair was palpable. I have witnessed their acts of suicide in the past, yet this was somehow different. This was pure, uncontrolled, despair. The necromancer would soon follow, yet this display of mass murder was a thing to admire, a strong effort made possible through proper planning and overwhelming power. The undead was always destined to fall, yet it was still a faraway dream to most.
 
What was real in this case? Was this all a disaster meant to teach the people of the Pal'tanir that their ignorance lead to their suffering? Was this a harsh lesson learned for the Veldrani, clinging to their ways of old even when destiny demands they change lest they perish? Was this punishment for the hubris of this necromancer, his lack of foresight leading him to perish even after he had all that was required for him to succeed? The undead did make for good company after all. They appreciate the fact you give them life by killing those that do not deserve it. The smell is awful though. I am not going to go into the specifics of the destruction of the necromancer. No, I think what is meant to be remembered is his work and what lead to his downfall, not the details of it. I lack the answer to my question, but I at least answer questions I have yet to come up with. I am not yet mad. No, not yet.
 
I was in pain during this entire ordeal, but I felt alive in my boots, strong in my purpose, hard in my armor... I think it brought me joy to know that I felt pain while the dead could only dream of the sensation, for how can you enjoy inflicting pain if the feeling of it eludes your very being? There was one thing, however, that the dead could feel which I understood clearly. One feeling which gave me great pleasure in sensing behind their soulless carcasses. A simple, primal thought that dwells deep inside every being, dead, living or immortal. Divine or Profane, strong or weak, all feel it at least once in their lives, bringing joy to my heart. So thank you, necromancer, for you and your minions fed my addiction to this one, basic feeling.
 
Fear