Korog Zordaal
Character
Name -- Korog Zordaal
Aliases -- Zyor Blacksky
Age -- 49
Height -- 2.2m
Weight -- 86kg
Eyes -- Black
Species -- Muun
Homeworld -- Mygeeto
Birth Place -- Jygat
Voice Sample -- Click
Affiliation
Title -- None
Force-User -- Yes
Force Rank -- Adept
Education -- Lorrd University, University of Pangalactic Cultural Studies, I'Ozos Center for Higher Learning
Secret Society -- Disciples of the Scarlet Tome
Status -- Graduated, Not Attending
Academic Qualifications --
B.Sc Applied Mathematics (Lorrd University)
Ph.D Xeno-Psychodynamics (University of Pangalactic Cultural Studies)
Ph.D Core-to-Outer Rim Galactic History (University of Pangalactic Cultural Studies)
Ph.D Occult Historiography and Ancient Force Religions (I'Ozos Center for Higher Learning)
History --
Obsession, a propulsive force that drives the aberrant mind to untold intensity and measure. Take for instance, this Muun, Korog Zordaal. By all accounts prior he was a mentally gifted individual set forward on an avenue of wealth and plenty. Rich, Cultured, Educated. Everything one would expect from a Species that prided itself on Knowledge, Cunning and Credits.
Only by chance indoctrination to a Secret Society on the world of Ord Radama did Zordaal's life forever apperceive this fever of shade and obscure mystery.
But not all was as it seemed, you see. The Disciples of the Scarlet Tome were but deceptive caricature. Infinitesimal blights on the oath and words that were to bind them to lurid realm of esoteric rite and ceremony. Naught but flair and pomp for the glitterati to taste the scourge of darkness that swept the Galaxy with doom and ruination.
Korog did not want to play, One Sith.
He did not want to masquerade as Primeval.
This infestation of decay and canker became as retch in his mouth, a vile pool of chunder that he must heave from mouth and mind.
The Liturgy of the Third Moon came upon them, impudent children took to robe and false grandeur. Another opportunity to parade their infernal fixations safely at arms reach from the true tenebrosity.
But not Zordaal, not the lofty Muun of skeletal frame, and wiry characteristic.
The words of the great Scarlet Tome began to bud the shrine of worship. Pretenders took to heaving convulsion as mockery, for they were stirred by the pagentry, frenzied with morose fantasy. Korog, it's said, simply took to unhinged laughter. Hands brought to life with banging clap.
His mind had finally broke, his manic infatuation so gluttonous it's said the very milieu became his arbalest of enmity. His scorn so appalling that the entirety of I'Ozos Center for Higher Learning became his marionette, animus and rancor plucking strings with cruel resolve. As if mere wafer, did the school crumble, a tasty treat for his poison palette to gnaw upon, as all walls, all buildings, eroded to stone and dust.
A first act of carnage and death, not fully understood, but wholly hungered for.
Now the gaunt Muun has become but wraith and shadow, seeking to devour all lore and wisdom, all ability and enlightenment. A delusional infatuation that will push him to the very brink of existence, if it means he but learns one more scrap of knowledge.
