A mysterious madman who hides away in a castle, no one can remember a time when Darmock was sane. His own butler, Jeffery, had known that the tiefling had what he described as ‘good days’ and ‘bad days’, but that more often applied to his temperament than his level of sanity. For instance, even on his “good days” Darmock would have Jeffery prepare meals for a party that never arrived.
Though the Tiefling was not sane, he was lonely for companionship. With his magic and power, he could have whatever he wanted, so he took it. A fifteen year old girl named Jadzia caught his eye, and she came to him under the guise of being tutored. It is not known whether money or simple threats exchanged hands, but Darmock had his new bride. He dressed her up, and on his ‘good days’ he treated her kindly. A doting husband with a beautiful wife, he would have her dance for him, eat meals with him, and of course share a bed.
On the ‘bad days’, however... Very often, his mind convinced him that Jadzia was a demon, or a spy, or on some occasions an angel who would send him to hell if he did not punish her. Other days the illusion would be simpler- she was a whore or a thief. Either way, the treatment was the same. He would burn her, torture her, and though he would not give her the honor of a bed he would still take her as a husband. He would never burn her face, of course- or at least when the flame did touch her cheeks he would heal the area with his magic.
This went on for many years. Darmock was happiest during this time, and Jeffery did notice that his good days were more frequent than the bad since the girl had arrived. It was painful to watch, of course, but when the servant had interfered it only made things worse for the girl. Darmock did seem to be in love, in his own twisted way. If anyone could see the full range of him, they might even claim Darmock was not entirely responsible for his actions- clearly he was not well. He was just powerful enough that his illness had the range to hurt many, many others.
It was actually on a ‘good day’ that Darmock had his throat slit open. He was about to join his wife in bed when he felt the dagger slide across his neck. He did not understand, because his wife had been bound at the time, and she had never had magic before. He didn’t even have time to appreciate the blood soaking his chest before he collapsed. He stayed conscious just long enough to feel the burn of the flames she started, and then the world went black.
How someone could survive such an encounter is a complete mystery, but Darmock clung to his life like a selfish child to a toy. Without his beloved wife, his ‘bad days’ became more frequent than before she had joined him. He would go about his business, because his lack of sanity rarely interfered with his business. Power and wit was usually enough to get what he wanted. However, when he saw a pretty dark-skinned girl with sharp features and honey eyes… He couldn’t help himself, not that he tried very hard.
He would take them, and bring them to his home to replace his lost love. He would purr the name ‘Jadzia’ into their ears, and punish them until they played along. With them he still had his good days and bad, days when they were wife or demon, but then there were always, eventually, the worst day. The day when he would actually see the girls as neither a demon nor his precious Jadzia, but a girl completely separate from his beloved. That would be their last day, and they would be buried in his backyard like a dead family pet. Darmock would return to his misery and insanity, alone once more.
But then the promised day came when he did find her again. Or rather, she found him. She came to him as beautiful as the day she left, if not even more so because she looked half-dead and had a ghostly pale set about her. He ignored her companions, so elated to see his love again he tried to consummate their reunion as soon as he saw her. Through his haze, he managed to understand that she needed his help. She was dying, she told him, and he could help her.
Darmock performed the ritual, sacrificing the next closest person in the process. He imagined their life together would begin again, and that was when Jadzia attacked him for the second time. This time, with the help of her companions, he was the one buried in the garden. In pieces.
Death didn't seem to stop Darmock, who lived on in a prison worn on Jadzia's head until the day she traded his soul to the demon Valnor in exchange for her own.
He took that opportunity and some recovered power in Therian Hell to kill Valnor and become even more powerful. Now in control of a demon army, Darmock plots to escape this final imprisonment and reclaim his bride and the world he believes is his to control
Darmock had always stayed miraculously well-groomed in spite of his craze. His long black hair carried a touch of grey, displaying his age prominently in relation to his young bride. He always seemed quite malnourished despite his riches. Often he forgot to eat or ate very little, suspecting most foods to be poisoned, he fed his imaginary guests better than himself or Jadzia. He did indulge in fashion, wearing the most expensive robes- often a bit too large and slightly mussed because he did not adjust them. If Jeffery didn’t help him, he also could wear the same clothing for days on end. The one piece of grooming he never accepted help on, however, were his nails. As a result they grew long and yellowed, chipping at the end and painting a grotesque picture for the unlucky ones who were close enough to see- or feel- them.
Darmock did have more than just his nails to show he was not quite right. Most noticeably, the trembling. Darmock never seemed to have steady hands unless he were performing some sort of malicious spell. Otherwise, his disgusting hands would shake at even the simplest task. Whether because of the sickness of his mind or some sickness in his aging body was anyone’s guess. His demon-red skin was slightly withered, but barely marked. Even after Jadzia’s murder attempt he had nary a scar or burn to show after it.
The range of Darmock’s actual behaviors was endless, depending on the day and person. Towards his servant, he was nothing but kind. Even on his worst days he never rose a hard to hurt the man. Meanwhile to his own wife he burned and tortured her for the smallest slight. Towards business partners he could either be their greatest asset or their demise, but the power they could obtain through him was often worth the risk. Meanwhile towards the general population at large, he was nothing but a silent, powerful hunter. Blood magic comes at a high cost, after all.