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Many stories run on happiness; saving the princess, friendship, winning a competition, these are all things that drive the plot forward, keeping us interested in what will happen next. We gain a small sense of euphoria when we reach the climactic ending -hopefully including a massive boss fight, preferably in space. Getting to know the characters, sometimes coming to love their quirks and personality, feeling heartbroken when they die. Stories don't always run on the happiness and teamwork that we come to expect from greats, however.

Some run on less pleasant events.

A lone Gnoll female moves across an immaculate garden. Flowers are blooming everywhere, petals upon the garden beds colouring the ground and lawn in beautiful pinks, golds, reds... She didn't stop to smell them, though, despite the fact that it was all her work that had the garden in its beautiful, near-perfect state. She still had much work to do, the fruit trees at the back were close to dropping their fruit, and she was pushing a large wheelbarrow to collect it in.

She was a slave, her duty was to do the work that her masters did not.

The large house they lived in? Sparkling clean.

The clothes they wore? Washed, dried and neatly put away by her.

Yet, every day, she would be beaten. Not for something she did wrong, but for being a slave. Her masters, despite teaching her how to do all the menial tasks about the house and the finer points of cleanliness, seemed to despise her. Even her name, Emmiehl, pronounced Emmie-Elle, was something to stab at her with. In her language, it meant 'worthless', and that, certainly, was how she felt every day. She would awaken early, prepare a breakfast worthy of a king, and be beaten by the father. She'd wash the house, dishes, and clothes, only to be beaten by the mother at lunch. She would then retreat to the garden to find the two sons who would hit her so hard that once they had broken her arm, and still she continued working. She was littered with scar tissue, her back and arms featured linear scars from whippings, her bones had been broken so many times they should have been tough enough to withstand concrete, but her constant malnourishment kept her bones weak. One of her ears had been cut so deeply that it would never stand up straight, lopping constantly. She was so underfed that her bones showed. And then there was the nightly horror from the father, who would violate her and leave her sobbing in a wet, sticky mess which she would clean before going to sleep, only to wake into the nightmare once more the next morning.

She reached the fruit trees and set down the wheelbarrow, moving over to the trees and starting to harvest the ripest fruit. The garden was, of all places, her haven. She considered her best work to be here, as if her soul had been bared for all to see in all of its magnificent splendor. The flowers, the trees, even the cacti and succulents, were perfectly arranged to give the most beauty year-round. Of course, constant maintainence was required for the damage that the sons would do, and she would dutifully repair the garden beds once they had gone. The wheelbarrow was soon full of all the fresh fruit that she knew the family would want; too much and she'd be beaten for wasting food, too little and they would beat her for trying to starve them. Her ear flicked, and she heard the front door close. They were home, and with guests. Hurriedly she wheeled her barrow to the garden shed, where she kept a few spare baskets, and put some fruit into it before rushing it to the garden table and putting it neatly in the center.

"Emmiehl!" She heard the father yell angrily. "What are you doing?!"

Emmiehl startled, taking a frightened step back from her master. "Emm heard guests!" She said. "Thought would like fruit, freshly garden! I sorry!"

He approached her angrily, and she covered her face with her arms.

"Get out of my sight, you stupid creature!" He yelled. "Now!"

"Don't shout at it so loudly while we have guests, Murray." The mother said from the back door. "We don't want them to know it even exists. That's the sign of a good slave, is it not? To neither be seen or heard, but whose effects linger?"

"And yet I have seen it." Murray growled.

"I sorry, I not so fast!" Emmiehl said, almost crying. "Please no hurt, me faster in future!"

"Get out of my sight!"

Emmiehl turned and ran, stumbling a little in her fright.

She stopped running at the very back of the garden, hiding up in one of the trees and cowering pitifully. She shook in her fright, making the tree rustle gently as she tried to recollect her nerves. With guests in the garden, she would need to hide in her room, the basement of the house, until they left. She sighed and climbed down, sneaking around the back of the garden shed and peeking out, making sure that none of the humans were looking before darting to the house and in the wide open back door. Quickly and quietly she slunk to the basement, where she pushed open the door and closed it behind her. She made it to the bottom steps before something caught her foot and she tumbled to the concrete. She struggled to her hands and knees and was kicked to her side, the sheer blow knocking the wind out of her lungs.

"Father said he caught you in the garden." The younger of the sons, Matthew, said. Emmiehl was struggling to refill her lungs from the blow, he knew, and this only left her open. "What, no response?" He snapped, kicking her again.

"I... sorry..." She wheezed, fresh tears rolling off her face. "I out of... sight now..."

Matthew gave a cold, merciless laugh before kicking her again and starting to head up the stairs. "And you'd better stay out of sight if you know what's good for you, Dirt!"

She waited until she heard the door close before trying to get to her feet again. She managed to stand, but when she tried to walk she only stumbled to her hands and knees again. She sobbed, a tear falling onto the concrete that she hastily wiped away and crawled to her bed, an old, tough mattress with rusted springs and almost no padding. The boys found it fun to jump on her bed while she was out, destroying the springs further and crushing what little softness was left -as if the father wasn't as bad with his nightly intrusions. She had found a large, soft pillow in the attic that no-one seemed to be missing, and she would tuck that under herself when the father would leave; at all other times it was hidden under the stairs in an old cardboard box. Unlike the family, who would have baths in warm water, she would have to bathe in the sink in here, where the water was cold all year and whose pipes would freeze in winter, forcing her to find an alternate means. She would run the hot water for someone else's bath in the bathtub upstairs before filling a bucket with water so cold that it made the bucket collect condensation to wash herself in outside in the snow.

Weakly she crawled onto her bed, curling into a ball and crying pitifully.

Soon she heard the guests leave, and she had stopped crying, so she stood and moved out of her room to clean any messes before she started to cook dinner. She found no messes in the house, not even a scuffed bit of rug or floorboard, so she moved into the garden. While the garden beds looked fine, the chairs about the table were irregularly placed, left scattered about when the occupants deserted them. The bowl of fruit, however, was missing. She could see no cores, pips, or rinds, so she assumed that they hadn't been eating the fruit. It wasn't until she got to the table and rearranged the chairs that she found the fruit scattered about the yard, smashed into bits, and the wicker bowl she had put them in torn to shreds. She sighed and collected the rubbish, putting it all in a wooden box for compost. With that done, she went to the garden faucet, cleaned her hands, and moved inside to start cooking dinner.

Dinner wasn't much on this night, a roasted chicken with potatoes, gravy, and vegetables that were fresh from the vegetable patch. She served it onto the plates, filled cups with drink, rang the meal bell, and hid under the cupboards as usual. She'd been punished a few times for being seen during mealtime, being told that they didn't want to see something so distasteful while eating, so she'd found a spot in the kitchen where she could hide until they were finished eating, whereupon they left and she collected dishes. She washed, wiped, shined and put away the dishes before standing outside the basement door, where the father brought her meal. Today she was lucky, she was allowed to eat some of the roast chicken with her bread and water, though why she wasn't sure. Unlike what the boys always loudly, and snidely, attested, her cooking was actually pretty tasty. She thanked her master, never looking in his eyes, and went to wash the wooden plate and cup she had been given, dutifully putting them back where they belonged in the cupboard. From here, she returned to the basement where she met the mother, who promptly beat the daylights out of her.

Once the mother was gone, Emmiehl cleaned what blood had been spilled from herself and the floor before stripping off and waiting for the inevitable.

Another day begun, and she was awake before dawn. She dressed, left the basement and entered the kitchen and, again, cooked a meal worthy of royalty. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, muffins... she was never allowed to eat any, though. No, no; she was allowed one meal a day, a pathetically small one at that. If she were caught eating, she'd be beaten to within an inch of her life, and that was the last thing she wanted. She prepared the meals, had them and glasses of orange juice on the table before the family entered and bolted for the basement door once more. Again she stood in the middle of the basement, waiting for her 'punishment', and the mother was as brutal as always. Today, Emmiehl was left wheezing, gasping for breath in her own blood. She heard the parents converse shortly.

"It will be unable to complete its duties for a little while, dear," the mother said, "I do believe I may have hit it harder than I intended. It's still alive, luckily enough."

"Pfuh, worthless creature." The father snarled.

Emmiehl struggled to stand, hearing her bones creak and her entire body protest in agonizing pain as she stumbled to her sink and washed up. From here, she struggled up the stairs and into the kitchen, where she collected breakfasts' plates and cleaned the dishes, leaving the kitchen as immaculately clean as it had been all night. The father came in and found her wheezing over the sink as she was cleaning the dishes.

"There, you see? Doing what it should be doing!" He had said proudly.

She went to the bedrooms and neatened the beds, folding and putting the bedclothes under the pillows, and took the dirty clothes from the day before to the laundry, where she washed them in a basin for just this purpose. Once they were washed and wrung out, she took them to the clothesline and hung them up in the sun to dry. She then returned to the house to clean the rest of the rooms, tidying each one, dusting the furniture and polishing the wooden floors. This took until about lunchtime, and she returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch and hide after ringing the bell.

After her lunch beating, she went to the garden to do some more gardening. She raked up the fallen petals, dumping them into her wheelbarrow. Fallen sticks, leaves, a few handful of weeds? Into the barrow, which was moved to the compost bin and the contents were tipped in. She used a shovel to stir the compost a little, getting it to rot down better, before moving away to tend to the fruit trees.

The father, at the door, came out yelling. "Hey! Who the hell are you?! Get out of my garden!"

Emmiehl startled and turned around, finding no-one but herself and the father in the entire yard. The father seemed a bit startled by something, but he collected his nerves and strode towards her.

"Y-yes master?" She asked, frightened.

"Who was that?" He demanded.

"M-master..?"

"Don't act dumb, there was a man in this garden and I demand to know who he was!"

Emmiehl, still frightened, started to back off nervously. "Th-there no one here but Emm and master!" She stammered.

He growled and reached for her, grabbing her shoulder and starting to squeeze painfully tightly.

"I see no one here, master!" She shrieked. "Emm only garden! No stranger! Emm swear!"

He only seemed to become more agitated, but he let her go and turned back into the house. "That garden had better be perfect!" He snapped. "Or you'll get far worse than you did after breakfast!"

Emmiehl gasped and cowered. "Y-yes master!"

She started by brushing the small pile of dirt and gravel on the ground into the garden bed.

A few miles away, a dark armoured figure conversed with another.

"Are you sure she's the one we want?" The female one asked.

"Yes." The male affirmed, his voice echoing within his helmet like tombstones on concrete.

The female sighed. "This is a hell of a situation to fish her out of." She said. "The masters will never give her freely."

"They are of little consequence." The male said. "I have been watching her for some time. Beaten so routinely that she knows when and where to meet them, body covered in more scars than a veteran gladiator, raped nightly -do ye really think they matter after being told just this? They care not for anyone but themselves, calling her 'it'. They live like kings while she dies slowly from the inside out. At the rate the beatings are escalating, we have until tomorrow night."

"Then we shall get to her before tomorrow night."

Night soon fell, and Emmiehl had been given her nightly beating. She was in the middle of cleaning up the leftover mess when she heard someone knock at the front door. The father went to meet whoever it was.

"What the hell do you want at this hour?!" He demanded, his voice muffled through the wood floor. The other voice was too muffled to hear, not that Emmiehl was listening. "There is no-one here by that name! Get off of my property!" The door was slammed, and Emmiehl heard the father move angrily through the house, opening the basement door and storming down the stairs. She was ready, and had already stripped off for him, but his look was by far more anger than the usual look he had at this time. Emmiehl faltered.

"No stranger, huh?" He growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the ground painfully. "Then how is it that someone who has never been here knows your name? You were talking to him, and that is unacceptable!"

"Emm didn't-" she started, but was cut off when he kicked her so hard she was thrown across the room and landed on her so-called bed.

"We gave you a home, fed you and this is how you repay us?!" He pulled her up by her ears and dragged her out of the room, up the stairs and into the backyard where he threw her onto the lawn. He gave her another kick, knocking the wind out of her. "It was a mistake to keep you, one that I'm going to enjoy undoing!"

Inside the house, the front door was knocked at again. The mother moved to the door and opened it irritably.

"What?!"

"I really don't like being called a liar."

"My husband told you already, there is no-one here for you, now get lost!"

The door was slammed on a plate boot, stopping the wood from closing properly.

"And I told you I hate being called a liar."

The door was thrown back open, and a deep breath could be heard before the front of the building was covered in fire.

In the garden, all the father heard was the roar of flames, and he turned around to see the building engulfed. He gave a startled yell before running back towards the building. As if a fist slammed down upon the roof, the building collapsed, and he took a step back as flames roared out in all directions. He turned to Emmiehl, grabbed her arm and dragged her to the house.

"You did this..!" He huffed angrily as she struggled against him. "And you'll pay for it!"

He hurled her into the fire, and she screamed in agony as the fire licked across her body. A pair of hands grabbed her, a large shield was put into a position to protect her from the heat, and she was hugged to a cold, iron clad body which carried her from the burning building.

She could see that she was back in the garden, and the father was yelling at her savior, who didn't seem to be listening to him in the slightest. A thundering sound indicated that the house had collapsed further, but she could do nothing but cry as she lay limp in the armoured individual's arms.

"You'll pay for this, you bastard!" Her master yelled angrily.

There was a heavy thump from within the rubble, and Emmiehl moved to see the house.

In the middle of the firestorm stood a female figure, clad in armour with her hair blowing all about in the heat. Flames swirled around her, and she lifted a hand which glowed like sunlight as dust and grit spiraled towards it before a sword appeared in her grip. She stepped out of the fires and onto the lawn, standing before Emmiehl's master.

"I hate being lied to." She growled. "Don't I, sister?"

A dragon larger than a shire horse landed heavily in the smouldering rubble of the house and growled angrily.

"Yes, you do." It rumbled with a deep feminine voice.

"You and your family have been a blight on this world for too long, Tawney. Selfish, cruel and heartless, you're a symptom of this world's decay into madness, and we are here to cut you out."

The master laughed. "As a dragon, you've broken your own rule by killing humans!"

"Please, don't insult my sister." The woman said irritably. "We went and got permission from the King for this."

"What?!"

"Nightly rape of a female slave, brutal beatings for no reason, insufficient food for said slave, need I go on?" The one holding Emmiehl rumbled with a masculine voice that was like tombstones grinding together. "Thee and thine family have done this deed for as long as I have been watching, and there is no king who would deny a Revenant."

"Y-you were in my garden!"

"I have been here for weeks, watching as ye defiled this innocent girl. Ye think that ye are exempt from natural law? Ye think yourself better than the rest of us? No, I have stood by too long, we stand by no longer."

"You can't just-"

"Finish it." The Revenant rumbled. Quick as a flash, the female bolted forth and swung her sword through Emmiehl's master. She turned to him and sighed.

"It's a sharp sword." She said. "I guess there is mercy in this world after all."

The man fell forward, his torso bouncing away from his waist and spilling blood across the lawn.

The Revenant looked down at his passenger to find she had passed out. She was heavily burned all down one side, and she was covered in much scar tissue. He stepped over to the female and held her out.

"Get on thine sister and fly to the roost." He said. "She requires much medical aid, and I do not have the power to heal." The girl nodded, letting her sword vanish into a pile of ash and took the girl tenderly. "I must report to the king on these events."

"She's been through so much pain..." The girl mumbled. "I shall have the elders look at her."

The Revenant nodded and waited for her to climb onto the dragon and take off before looking about the garden.

"I apologize about thine garden, lass." He mumbled, before dissipating into dust.

Emmiehl woke much later. She wasn't sure what time it was, there was no sunlight, but she ran on instinct and attempted to stand, only to struggle against bandages and to be held down by a female. She became panicked and struggled harder, only to get a wake-up slap across her snout.

"Calm down, Emmiehl." The female said. "You're safe here, I promise you, however if you continue to struggle, you'll only harm yourself."

"Wh-where Emm at..?" She asked, a quiver in her voice.

"You're at Blackwing Keep." The girl said. "My home."

She struggled to remember the night before, and her eyes shrunk as she lay back on the bed. "Y-you kill Emm's m-master!" She stammered.

The female sighed. "Yes," She said, "if you can call him a master." She sat down next to the bed that Emmiehl was laying in and sighed, turning her face to the frightened Gnoll. "My name is Gaile." She said. "I'm half Dragon and half Revenant." A dragon's face came into view and Emmiehl held her breath. "This is my sister, Keira. She'll harm you no more than a flower's petal, please don't be afraid."

"Wh-why kill Emm's master?" Emmiehl asked. "Not see reward."

Gaile chuckled gently and tapped Emmiehl's nose. "For you, young one."

"F-for Emm..?"

"You were having such a hard life, the things they put you through were monstrous... We stumbled upon you by accident one day while flying overhead, and I asked my father to keep an eye on you. You know, the Revenant who held you safe from the fire?" Emmiehl nodded distantly, faintly remembering the events. "He informed me and my sister-" behind her, Keira gave a disgruntled huff and stepped out of the room, "of what was going on, and we decided that you needed to be rescued. After all you've been through... you deserve a second chance."

A hand brushed her gently to one side, and a human male stood before her.

"You must be Emmiehl." He said. "I am Wrenslen, the eldest dragon of the roost, current Grand Patriarch of the Blackwings. Young one, if you could roll to your side, show me your wound, I shall do all that I can."

Emmiehl nodded sheepishly and rolled onto her left, allowing this male to see her wounded side. She gave a hiss of pain as the bandages were prodded, and Wrenslen put his face into her view.

"Young lady, I request that you do not move." He said. "This shall hurt a great deal, but only for a moment." Again Emmiehl nodded, and Wrenslen pulled a hair from Gaile's head.

"Ow- hey!"

"Be silent, Gaile." Wrenslen growled. "I require a still living hair, and you happen to have some. Be thankful that I do not require more." He moved his hand to the bandages on Emmiehl's side and ripped them off harshly, tearing her wounds back open and causing her to scream in pain. Quick as a flash, he put the hair to her side and mumbled a few words. The hair, and Emmiehl's wounds, vanished as if evaporating from her body. Gaile shifted up and wrapped her arms around the now crying Gnoll.

"Shh, Emmiehl, shh." She cooed gently. "It's alright, you're alright. The pain is over now, shh." Wreslen sighed.

"You're a natural mother, you know." He said jokingly.

"Gee, thanks." Gaile grumbled. "That's all a warrior needs to know, she'd be better sitting back with a dozen kids."

Gaile's sister, Keira, came into view with a grin on her face. "I've prepared some breakfast, come eat."

"I shall gather my own meal, if you don't mind." Wrenslen said gently. "I shall leave you three to your breakfast. Enjoy." He swept out of the room and Gaile stood up.

"Alright, let's go eat." She said, tugging Emmiehl from the bed.

"Breakfast... not meal for Emm." She insisted.

"Heh, this one is." Gaile said, lifting Emmiehl from the bed in her arms and carrying her to the table, where a whole array of breakfast foods had been arranged. "You need your strength." She said. "After breakfast, I'll show you where your new garden is."

"Garden..?" Emmiehl asked. "For Emm?"

"Yep." Keira said. "It's a nice big one that you can enjoy. Set it up any way that you want, the volcanic soil of our mountain is very fertile."

"Also, your name, Emmiehl..." Gaile mumbled. "It means worthless, right?" Gingerly the Gnoll nodded, and Gailed sighed. "Well, that was your slave name." She said. "You're not a slave any more, you're free to roam about the roost as you see fit. There are a few rules, you'll learn them as you go, but other than that..."

"How about Emmel'uaht?" Keira asked. "You refer to yourself as Emm, and you keep that."

Emmiehl looked apprehensive. "What mean..?"

"Emmel'uaht, 'keeper of the grove'." Keira said. "It's a dragon name."

She thought about it for a moment before smiling and sitting at the table, looking down at a large stack of pancakes pulled under her by Gaile. "Emm like." She said, before gently nuzzling Gaile's arm. "Emm like lots."