Formelly living in Stema Praetorium, Zittork made a living as a silk merchant. Supplying tailors up to noble districts and spending days within his stall, attracting the eyes of high and lo' to his merchendise. For Koris, a dream come true to many. However, Hastati Dominae is not one to make pleasant things last. Zittork found himself within the crosshair or a conspiracy of the Maskareta, his cloth carrying messages to be smugled to higher circles. With the culprits out of reach, Zittork was chosen to be the sacrificial lamb. And although not enough incriminating evidence was collected for execution, Dominae still could have made an example out of him to all that make dealings with the masks, knowingly or otherwise.

His many days were spent within the stock, new scars added to his face every day. When the Noxus Hypno's roar decimated the minds of the bystandenders and Maskareta started pouring in, his stock was broken during the stampede. Zittork rose up, a different man than he was a month ago. He came to a slain Maskareta and picked up their mask, putting it on his face and blending into the crowd, heading towards the guards.