Hector the pure was a young paladin of great virtue and promise. He was very popular with the people of Talingarde, and
was well respected by the church. He was given the honorable and important duty an eight hour vigil over the royal
sepulchres, a very rare duty for a young paladin to draw. He was, needless to say, very proud to be serving his country in
such a regard.
Until he actually experienced his duty.
His first night on duty he was alone in the quiet and dark crypt, a creepifying enough prospect on its own. Near the end
of the first hour of his watch, he began to hear what may have been whispers, just quiet enough that they may have been the
wind. Near the end of the second hour, they coalesced into the first understandable call: "Come, join us." They said. He
tried to block it out of his mind, but by the end of the fourth hour they had risen almost to shouts "Come, Join us!" they
demanded. He could no longer ignore the call, and the constant demand of the whispering voices of the dead were beginning
to wear down his resolve. By the end of the fifth hour, the shouts had transformed to a litany coursing through his brain
and entering his very being. Near the end of his vigil, he had promised the dead his very soul, and was about to plunge
his sword into his own stomach.
"Wait!" they implored him
"We require your services..."
"I live to serve" He said, as his mind shattered
His relief, marched at the traditionally slow pace to the front of the sepulcher. As he turned the final corner, he saw a
flash as Hector slashed wildly at him, gibbering unintelligibly all the while. It was a simple feat for the experienced
paladin to subdue the almost feral Hector, disarming him and pinning him down to the ground.
"Hector, what are you doing? Have you gone mad?" the paladin demanded, unintentionally providing his new sobriquet.
Hector was quietly shuffled under the rug, and disappeared entirely from the public eye. Charged with attempted murder,
Hector was sentenced to death by beheading.
