In the town of Dratan lived a wealthy family who flaunted their wealth, for the sake of flaunting. They could spare a lot more to the poor, yet didn't, and took pleasure in donating the lowest valued coin to every individual who asked. The mother and father had a single son named Damian, who grew to be just as selfish as them. In time, every person in Dratan hated this family. Had they not owned such a great amount of the land, they would have saw to it that they were banished.
There was one woman who gave them what they deserved, though.
An elderly woman walked through the town during a winter's eve in search of shelter. The bright, warm lit home is what caught her attention. She walked through the thick blanket of snow, shivering violently because of how frozen she felt. A weak hand knocked at their wooden door, which was answered by a seventeen year old boy. The meek, old woman asked if she would stay, and explained that she had nothing to give in return. She did offer to clean their home spotless if they allowed her to sleep there just for the night and have a warm meal.
Damian laughed at her as if she was telling a joke, then closed the door at the command of his parents, who were also hysterical with laughter. It turned out that this old woman was a witch. With what little strength she had left, she used her magic to slay both of his parents. Since Damian was still young, she decided to spare his life, and instead cast a terrible curse upon him. The curse could only be broken when he could learn to be more generous, and get loved for it.
The handsome human transformed into a six foot tall monster covered with black fur. Horns sprouted from his head, his spine extended into a tail, and a pair of devilish wings erupted from beneath his shoulders. All he had left for clothing was his tattered pants as bulky muscles tore through everything else. Damian's hands morphed into terrifying, blood thirsty claws, while a pair of malicious fangs grew from the top of his mouth. What he had for ears represented what a dog might have, which coordinated with the whiskery snout on his face. His eyes displayed an evil shade of red, his pupils hardly even visible.
With a miserable howl, Damian ran through his hometown, crying for help from the people. The women and children rushed into their homes, while the brave men gathered their weapons to force out the beast. The thrashing of steel blades scarred his back as he ran away, genuinely afraid of the townsfolk. Damian finally stopped running when he came across an abandoned castle. He's called this place his home for five years now.
Anyone who dared enter the castle was either scared out, or killed by the bitter monster. Nobody cared to help him, nobody cared to love him. He sits in his creaky castle, hoping everyday for a miracle...