I cannot confirm or deny that is his name. However I can give a bit of background on the inspiration for this drawing;
Last winter I was at a used bookstore in North Carolina browsing the "New Age/occult speculation" shelf and to my delight picked up a rare 1974 paperback edition of "The Book of Elders by Alorri Zrokros". I went out of the shop to a nearby diner, ordered a coffee and had just begun to thumb through my new acquisition when I was startled by a deep voice that was both gruff and refined, "That's an interesting book you've got there."
I looked to see a brawny gentleman with shoulder length red hair and a close cropped red beard, well dressed in a black turtleneck and black leather blazer. The fellow's general appearance was somewhat brutish but the most alarming features were his blazing blue eyes, something about them suggested madness and the savagery of an angry tiger. Nonetheless when he asked to sit at my table I acquiesced.
A waitress appeared and the man ordered a coffee and a slice of apple pie for both of us. The food and drink appeared almost immediately, the man tasted the pie and appeared quite pleased with it. Then he spoke " Would you consider selling that book?"
"No I'm really looking forward to studying it." I replied.
"So you're a student of the occult then, that's understandable. Perhaps we can make a bargain, let me look through a few pages and make some notes and I will share some deeper lore with you concerning the Book of Elders."
I agreed and the man flipped open the paperback and then produced a small notebook and began to write impossibly quick in a script that seemed to be some sort of illegible foreign shorthand. He continued this activity as he spoke almost to himself; "There are certain things I wish to compare to the version that was held in the Thule Society library."
I was taken aback, "That book was destroyed during World War 2 wasn't it?"
Red hair replied, "Yes but I have seen it--I mean I have seen photos of the text and studied them quite closely. This paperback text was derived from another translation and though rather flawed itself it still contains hints to the location of certain artifacts that would be very valuable for someone who understood their use."
The man in black ordered us both another slice of pie and poured a shot of brandy into his coffee from a silver flask, "Care for a shot?" he asked.
I accepted, the liquor was quite strong but I took care to show no sign of weakness as I swallowed a large gulp. He smiled in approval, it
reminded me of the wolf in the three little pigs cartoon.
He began to talk at length concerning certain ancient demons and their cults; Sataki and Yslsl in particular with the suggestion that certain piles of rock around the world were in fact the remains of doorways leading to the realm of these demons and how one might pass through to various locations and even to other worlds.
As the evening wore on we consumed nearly an entire apple pie and several cups of brandy laced coffee, I was feeling both tipsy and nervously energetic. Suddenly Red Hair stopped speaking and affected an attitude of intense concentration as he stared out the window onto the darkened streets, "Do you hear hoofbeats?" he said softly.
Amazingly I did, the faint clop-clop sound of a horse approaching from a distance, low but clearly audible despite the sounds of the diner patrons.
"What kind of damn fool would be riding a horse through town at night?" I said, slurring a bit from the strong drink.
Red Hair suddenly snatched the Book of Elders into his blazer pocket and rose from the table, "Sorry friend but I have to take my leave."
I grabbed his arm and managed to blurt out, "Hold on a second mister!" Then his hand slashed blurringly to my temple with a karate chop type of blow and I crumpled face first into my half eaten pie.
The waitress brought me to my senses with a splash of ice water to the face and I lurched into the streets ignoring her protests of the unpaid bill and tips.
Melted into the hard asphalt of the street were a set red hot glowing hoofprints leading into a pitch black alleyway, I heard the low clop-clop of hoofbeats down that alley but I dared not follow. I fled screaming into the night and diner bill was never paid.