A lonely man, in a lonely room, eating his stale bread and weeping tears of alcohol.
Lo and behold, in front of him, an object most unholy, a container of rotten milk. A voice most peculiar, from the graves of everything that is good and positive, called his attention. The whispers spoke to his ear: Be Evil. And the calling was heard.
The miserable man was reborn as Sur Satan, the destroyer of all and everythings.
Since this black revelation from the vortex of the void, he sought out kindred souls wandering the dark paths of misanthropy and in the eve of the thrice-damned corpse god's birthday he found his place wielding the Mighty Arms of Destruction behind Saatanan Marionetit's drums. Since then, everything has been a drunken haze.