Mordathaiodar tu Unkaiselar, otherwise simply referred to as Mordathai and the Umbrage Cleric, is a member of the Hseraelna civilization and one of the servants of Shu'wokerama, a god of the Corruptus. A highly intellectual and archaic creature, Mordathai is an adept practitioner of dark, occult arts and functions as one of the most innovative members of the selection of individuals that the gods of the Corruptus had deemed worthy to serve them. Mordathai finds himself driven within a pursuit of forbidden, complex knowledge and strives to unfold the forgotten secrets of the universe he resides within and beyond, with a calm and orderly manner lending itself towards an almost seductive and persuasive, yet undoubtedly deadly, swagger that Mordathai retains at almost all times, no matter the situation at hand.

A manipulative and deceptive yet bizarrely loyal individual, Mordathai is commended for his mastery over the arcane and umbral 'magic' that presides beyond the First Gigaquadrant. Despite his intelligence, Mordathai is anything but a coward; he is willing to initiate sacrifices if such translates to success and will not hesitate to engage within combat, although he is notable as being one of the only minions of the Corruptus to offer opportunities of mercy towards his opposition, often prior to fighting, for he believes that not allowing his enemies such chances is both dishonourable and barbaric, however he is ruthless when engaged and will claim lives at a whim. Mordathai is treated as a demigod by his people due to his status while he supposedly holds the Corruptus gods, particularly Shu'rimrodir, in the highest of regards.


Early Life[]

Mordathaiodar tu Unkaiselar and many of his siblings were born as bastards to the head of a rather small pirate-kingdom of Hseraelna, spawned by his impregnation of a member of his harem of concubines. Considered little more than an additional serf and slave by his father, Mordathaiodar held little more than utter contempt for the man and proved himself as being one of the more ambitious members of the bastard spawn his father contributed his genes towards; even from a young age, Mordathaiodar proved himself prominent with a gift for Essence, an aspect of his character that he did well to keep hidden from his father. Decades were spent serving under his father's claws, fighting to survive and prove his worth to the kingdom that he was a part of so that he would avoid redundancy, all the while he would, in sworn secrecy, receive visions and images within his dreams - visions of a powerful, prestigious Hseraelna with untold thousands of warriors at his back. Mordathaiodar was convinced that the figure within his dreams was, in some shape or form, himself, and thus aspired to achieve such recognition and perhaps become a champion for his gods, the Corruptus.

Making use of subtle manipulation and extensive planning, Mordathaiodar eventually managed to attain the seat that his father had held, as he had commissioned various enslaved scientists with valuable necessities such as food and shelter to engineer both a gene-oriented plague so as to erase his father and his spawn from the line of succession of the pirate-kingdom and a vaccine so that Mordathaiodar himself would be unaffected. As expected, he had managed to ascend the seat of position and murdered any who challenged him, whether with his bare hands or through his small network of operatives, agents, and mercenaries that he had hired after inheriting his father's influence and wealth. He knew of his father's fragile reputation, how the man refused to impose himself upon others, even the lesser, local kingdoms of Hseraelna, and Mordathaiodar tolerated little of it; he used mercenaries and his own kingdom's fleet and warriors to conquer several local groups, expanding his kingdom's influence and driving his people onward, absorbing those who survived his onslaughts into his band of pirates and raiders.

As he began to build upon his dreams of creating an empire of Hseraelna, he had been careful to restrain his connections towards others, refraining from maintaining spawn that could potentially usurp him in the future and always keeping himself armed and prepared for an ambush. He was opposed by tens of mant Hseraelna societies that refused to accept his reign and boasted firepower beyond his own, at which point, he did something that would come to condemn him; he undertook a pilgrimage to the ruined, abandoned homeworld of his people in an attempt to uncover the very artefacts that led to the foundations and core of their religion surrounding the enigmatic entity Shu'rimrodir. However, some days after he and several teams were investigating the ruined remnants of the world, Mordathaiodar found himself betrayed when his captains left him for dead upon the world without a means of escape. Infuriated by this trickery and betrayal, Mordathaiodar could do little more than seethe in his own rage until, eventually, he condemned himself to sleep, using his Essence experience and the residual, demonic energies of the world to hibernate for two long, overwhelming centuries, with his physical form being gradually mutated and stiffened until it had become effectively a fossil while his mind was free to dream and envision of his "supposed" destiny.

The Recruitment[]

Second War of Black Fog[]

Tantummodo Mortem[]







Green face.pngI am your instrument; use me as you see fit.


Blue face.pngOh, how wondrous. Colleagues.


Yellow face.pngWhy should I grieve for mortals? Would one grieve for insects?


Red face.pngPerform a favour that I would greatly appreciate. Die.


Collective groupings - empires, communities and nations - like to imagine all demons are bloodthirsty and remorseless. That the only thing that satisfies them is destruction and carnage. How alien must the vanguard Mordethai be to these ideas? He is not addicted to death or bloodshed, he craves knowledge, not the essence of life. What satisfies him is discovery. Far from being underwhelming, I see this as making him the most dangerous kind of demon. For he knows and craves to know your every weakness and your every virtue, everything that made you and what you believe. What could a monster with such a mind as his do with this knowledge?.

- Sarec

With you I feel comfortable. You do not scream for blood, complain of the endless fathoms of mortal igorance. Perhaps there is wisdom in distancing myself from the rabble I used to think I was making safer?

- High Inquisitor Arsac




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