A solitary man maintains his vigil, in spite of the joviality which consumes his allies. The scene suits him, since he is known among his people as the Lord of the Vigil, a Highlord, Bastion against the Blight, the Unwavering General, Ward of the Blessed. He has a lot of titles, and it’s a bit of a common pastime to invent new ones. The man hates them, they seem to superfluous and inaccurate. He lets the names breed, so long as they address him by the first only, because the Lord Vigil is his true and proper name. Or, as he prefers, just Vigil.
Vigil has done quite a bit to warrant the titles. He is, after all, the tactician premier in his era. He’s saved the people many times from falling to the darkness all around. Even now, he studies for the battle that is sure to come, as his enemies gather outside. Frivolity is not one of his interests. He doesn’t understand how people can immerse themselves in the trivial when lives are at stake. Of course, that’s why no one cares when he arrives to a party and slinks off to a corner to study. It also frees everyone else to make names for him, since he’s not listening.
If he caught wind of anyone doing that, the One who Prevents his People from Falling by Standing Better than the Enemy would be quite irritated. The people’s creativity (or frequent lack thereof) would be best used otherwise, as Vigil always insists.