WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
A float 32 high precision M.O.E model, quanted in float 32 with additional upgraded and augmented quants too. Even Q2k (the smallest quant) "burns brightly" due to MOE model type, float 32 transfer and quant augments. 3 examples below (9 total generations)
It is a Llama3 model, max context of 8k (8192) using mixture of experts to combine FOUR top Llama3 8B models into one massive powerhouse at 24.9B parameters (equal to 32B - 4 X 8 B).
This version "Enhanced32" is a merge mastered in "float 32" precision for higher quality and performance. If standard source was "HD", float32 would be "UHD". The bottom line is a far stronger model, more detail, more nuance, more depth... and stronger instruction following.
In addition there are specialized re-engineered quants with float 32 components in the quants themselves (detailed below). This allows you to choose between standard (but mastered from float 32 source too) and "augmented quants" for even higher quality.
The master file 32 bit / float 32 clocks in at 100GB (source files to be uploaded to separate repo shortly).
This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are exceptional.
Model can be used also for all genres.
It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.
This model can also be used for general use, however its output generation can be uncensored.
This model has been designed to be relatively bullet proof and operates with all parameters, including temp settings from 0 to 5.
It is an extraordinary compressed model, with a very low perplexity level (lower than Meta Llama3 Instruct).
It requires Llama3 template, and/or "Command-R" template.
Several prompts and outputs below.
QUANTS From Float 32 (32-bit) Source:
Model Notes:
Meet the Team: Mixture of Experts Models
This model is comprised of the following 4 models ("the experts") (in full):
[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
-[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
-[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
-[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
-[ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/llama-3-gutenberg-8B ]
The mixture of experts is set at 4 experts, but you can use 1, 2, 3, or 4.
This "team" has a Captain (first listed model), and then all the team members contribute to the to "token" choice billions of times per second. Note the Captain also contributes too.
Think of 2, 3 or 4 (or more) master chefs in the kitchen all competing to make the best dish for you.
This results in higher quality generation.
This also results in many cases in higher quality instruction following too.
That means the power of every model is available during instruction and output generation.
NOTE:
You can use one "expert" too ; however this means the model will randomly select an expert to use EACH TIME, resulting in very different generation for each prompt / regen of a prompt.
CHANGING THE NUMBER OF EXPERTS:
You can set the number of experts in LMStudio (https://lmstudio.ai) at the "load" screen and via other apps/llm apps by setting "Experts" or "Number of Experts".
For Text-Generation-Webui (https://github.com/oobabooga/text-generation-webui) you set the number of experts at the loading screen page.
For KolboldCPP (https://github.com/LostRuins/koboldcpp) Version 1.8+ , on the load screen, click on "TOKENS", you can set experts on this page, and the launch the model.
For server.exe / Llama-server.exe (Llamacpp - https://github.com/ggerganov/llama.cpp/blob/master/examples/server/README.md ) add the following to the command line to start the "llamacpp server" (CLI):
"--override-kv llama.expert_used_count=int:3"
(no quotes, where "3" is the number of experts to use)
When using "API", you set the "num_experts_used" in the JSON payload (this maybe different for different back ends).
CREDITS:
Special thanks to all the model makers / creators listed above.
Please visit each repo above to see what model(s) contributed to each of models above and/or to learn more about the models from the model makers.
Special credit goes to MERGEKIT, without you this project / model would not have been possible.
[ https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit ]
Special Operations Notes for this MOE model:
Because of how this "MOE" model is configured, even though the default is 2 experts, the "selected" 2 will vary during generation.
(same applies if you change the number of experts used)
This results in vastly different output generation PER generation of each prompt.
This is a positive in terms of variety, but also means it may take 2-4 regens (of the same prompt) to get the highest quality.
In addition, this model responds very well to Dry, Dynamic Temp, and Smooth/Quadratic samplers.
Using these in conjunction with the model can vastly improve output quality.
Higher temps (above 1) can also aid in generation - especially word choice/sentence generation.
When you increase the number of experts used output quality will also increase, at the cost of tokens per second speed.
As you increase/decrease the number of experts, you may want to adjust temp, samplers, and advanced samplers too.
Your quant choice(s) too will impact instruction following and output generation roughly this means the model will understand more nuanced instructions and output stronger generation the higher you go up in quant(s).
MORE COOKS THE BETTER:
Activating more "experts" will increase the quality of the model's output. All four, although slower... will yeild the best results.
CRANK THE TEMP:
This model loves temp. Although .5 to .9 will "do", it really shines at 1.5+.
Likewise, if you activate Dynamic Temp.
FLASH ATTENTION ENHANCEMENT:
I would suggest trying this model with Flash Attention "on", depending on your use case.
Quants, Samplers, Generational steering and other topics are covered in the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..."
Censored / Uncensored / Abliterated:
This model contains several uncensored and/or Abliterated models.
As a result is can output uncensored material.
What can I use this model for ?
This model can be used for fiction writing, any creative prose and role play. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
QUANTS:
This repo contains regular quants and 3 "ARM" quants (format "...Q4_x_x_x.gguf")
For more information on quants, quants choices, and LLM/AI apps to "run" quants see the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..."
Template:
This is a LLAMA3 model, (or Alpaca or Command-R) and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s).
If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 1" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_S, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Number of experts used is FOUR, unless otherwise stated.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
IMPORTANT:
Higher quants / imatrix quants will have much stronger generation - words, sentences, ideas, dialog and general quality.
I have included some additional examples at different quant levels for contrast.
A "MOE" model "speed" (token per second) will not increase/drop the same way a regular model will on a per quant basis, it will however drop if you engage more experts, as with more experts there is a more processing per token.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
(Gen 1 temp=0, rep_pen: 1.05)
The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass shards rained down like a deadly hailstorm, shattering the calm morning air. My heart leapt into my throat as I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet in the chaos.
I had been standing there, lost in thought, staring out at the cityscape unfolding before me. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the concrete jungle below. It was a moment of peace, a brief respite from the madness that had consumed my life for months now.
But then, the window shattered, and everything changed in an instant.
I hit the floor hard, my palms scraping against the cold tile as I scrambled to get away from the gaping hole. The wind howled through the opening, whipping my hair into a frenzy and sending papers and office supplies swirling around me like a tornado.
My coworkers were screaming, some of them already fleeing in terror while others cowered behind their desks, praying for the storm to pass. But I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare at the wreckage, my mind reeling with the implications of what had just happened.
The window on the 21st floor had exploded. Which meant...which meant...
I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, my eyes darting frantically around the room. That's when I saw it – a dark, crimson stain spreading across the carpet like a macabre flower. A pool of blood, growing larger by the second.
Oh God, no. Please, no.
I crawled closer, my heart pounding in my ears as I reached out a trembling hand to touch the sticky liquid. It was warm, still oozing from the wound. And then I saw it – a mangled, lifeless hand protruding from the shattered glass, fingers curled into a futile attempt to grasp something, anything, to save itself.
A scream tore from my throat as I recoiled in horror, my stomach churning with the knowledge of what I had just witnessed. Someone was dead. Someone I knew, someone who had been standing right there beside me just moments before.
The room spun around me, a kaleidoscope of chaos and terror. I stumbled to my feet, my legs wobbly beneath me as I staggered toward the door. I had to get out of there, had to find help, had to make sense of this unspeakable nightmare.
But as I reached for the handle, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around to face the horror that lurked in the shadows. A figure, twisted and deformed, its face a grotesque mask of blood and torn flesh, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
I tried to scream, but my voice was frozen in my throat. The creature's grip tightened, its fingers digging into my skin like talons as it pulled me closer, its hot breath washing over my face in a putrid wave.
And then, everything went black.
When I came to, I was lying on the floor, my head throbbing with a dull ache. The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant wail of sirens. I struggled to sit up, my vision blurry at first, but gradually clearing as I took in the devastation around me.
The window was still shattered, the wind howling through the gap like a mournful cry. Papers and debris littered the floor, and the once-pristine carpet was now stained with blood and other unidentifiable substances. But it was the bodies that caught my attention, lying twisted and lifeless amidst the wreckage.
My coworkers, my friends, all of them gone. And I...I was the only one left to bear witness to this unspeakable horror.
As I stumbled to my feet, a new wave of terror washed over me. What had happened here? What kind of monster could do such a thing? And what did it want with me?
I had to get out of there, had to find help and safety. But as I turned to make my escape, I caught a glimpse of myself in the shattered remains of a mirror.
My reflection stared back at me, pale and gaunt, with dark circles under my eyes and a look of utter despair etched on my face. But it was what I saw behind me that made my blood run cold – a figure, tall and imposing, its presence seeming to fill the entire room.
I tried to scream again, but my voice was hoarse and barely audible. The creature loomed over me, its eyes burning with an unholy intensity as it reached out a hand to claim me.
And then, everything went black once more.
When I awoke this time, I was lying on a cold, metal table in a dimly lit room. The air was thick with the stench of disinfectant and something else, something far more sinister. I tried to sit up, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder, holding me in place.
A figure loomed over me, its face obscured by a surgical mask. "Welcome back," it said, its voice low and gravelly. "We've been waiting for you."
I struggled against the restraints that bound me to the table, but they were too strong. Panic set in as I realized the true extent of my predicament. I was trapped, at the mercy of whatever monstrosities lurked in this place.
The figure reached out with a gloved hand, its fingers closing around my wrist like a vice. "Don't worry," it said, its voice dripping with malice. "We'll make sure you're comfortable...for a little while, at least."
And then, the pain began.
Gen 2: Temp 1.5, rep pen : 1.05
The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass shattered into a thousand fragments, raining down like a deadly hailstorm onto the unsuspecting pedestrians below. Pandemonium erupted around me as screams and chaos filled the air. The sound of shattering glass, followed by the sickening crunch of broken bones and tearing flesh, was almost deafening.
I stumbled back, my heart racing in terror, as I gazed out at the carnage unfolding before me. The world had always been a brutal place, but this... this was beyond anything I could have imagined. My stomach lurched with a mixture of revulsion and helplessness as I took in the gruesome scene.
A chunk of wall, blown away by the force of the blast, hung precariously from the frame above me. I felt an icy hand grip my spine as it slowly swung towards me. Time seemed to slow as I raised a hand, fingers trembling, and reached out to grasp the jagged edge. With a guttural cry, I yanked myself up, my body scraping against the torn concrete.
I found myself on the roof of the building, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. The cityscape stretched out before me like a twisted, macabre canvas. Smoke billowed from the blast site, a noxious cloud that hung heavy over the streets below. People were running, screaming, trying to get as far away from the horror as possible.
But I was rooted in place, unable to tear my eyes from the devastation. A mangled corpse, its limbs twisted at grotesque angles, lay splayed on the sidewalk. The once-proud structure of the skyscraper now resembled a ravaged carcass, its steel frame exposed and twisted like a tortured creature.
As the reality of what was happening began to sink in, a cold dread crept up my spine. I had been so focused on the chaos around me that I'd neglected to consider my own safety. Panic set in as I scanned the rooftop for an exit route, my mind reeling with the possibilities of what could happen next.
The blast hadn't been an isolated incident, I was sure of it. The sheer force required to shatter a 21st floor window and send debris flying for blocks had to be the work of some kind of catastrophic event. But what? A bomb? An alien invasion? The supernatural?
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion from my mind. One thing was certain: I needed to get off this rooftop, and fast.
With a deep breath, I turned away from the carnage below and sprinted across the roof, my sneakers pounding against the cold concrete. As I approached the stairs, a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air, sending chills down my spine.
I froze, my heart pounding in my ears. What was that? A survivor of the blast, or something more sinister?
Without waiting to find out, I tore down the stairs, my hands and knees scraping against the rough walls as I descended. Every step felt like an eternity, each creak of the stairs a potential harbinger of doom.
Finally, I burst through the doors onto the main floor, gasping for air as I gazed out at the scene before me. The lobby was in chaos, with people running, screaming, and trying to evacuate the building as quickly as possible. Ambulances and emergency vehicles screeched into position, their flashing lights illuminating the devastation.
As I pushed through the crowds, a strong hand grasped my arm, yanking me towards the nearest exit. "This way, we have to get out of here," a voice shouted in my ear, its urgency cutting through the cacophony around me.
I stumbled along behind the stranger, my mind reeling with images of shattered glass, twisted metal, and the endless, pitiful cries of the injured. We burst into the cool night air, the sounds of sirens and wailing survivors fading behind us as we fled into the darkness.
For a long while, I simply ran, my breath coming in ragged gasps as my lungs burned from exertion. But eventually, exhaustion caught up with me, and I slowed to a walk, my gaze cast down at the pavement as I tried to make sense of the unspeakable horror I'd just witnessed.
As I walked, the silence began to fill the void left by the screams and chaos. It was an eerie quiet, punctuated only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath my feet. I felt like I was in a dream, a nightmare from which I couldn't awaken.
And then, in the distance, a low growl pierced the stillness. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to face the sound, my breath caught in my throat.
A creature, its body twisted and malformed, emerged from the shadows. Eyes that glowed like embers stared back at me, a mouth filled with jagged teeth parted in a snarl. It moved towards me with an unnatural, jerky gait, as if it had been assembled from the very nightmares of humanity.
I tried to run, but my legs were leaden, my body frozen in terror. The creature loomed closer, its hot breath washing over me in waves as I closed my eyes, bracing for the end.
But it never came. Instead, a blinding light exploded from nowhere, enveloping both of us in its radiant intensity. I opened my eyes to find myself standing on the outskirts of a crater, the creature mere inches away from where I'd been just moments before.
The impact had sent shockwaves through the ground, the force so powerful that it had vaporized the creature and blown out the windows of nearby buildings. Glass shards rained down around me, but I barely registered their presence, my mind still reeling from the encounter.
As I stumbled away from the crater, a figure emerged from the smoke and rubble, his features obscured by the mask he wore to protect himself from the toxic air. He moved towards me with a purposeful stride, his voice echoing through the ruins as he called out my name.
"Emily? Emily, is that you?"
Gen 3: Temp 3.25, rep pen : 1.05
I stared, my pupils constricted to pinpricks, as the skyscraper swayed. It was a gentle rock, imperceptible if I hadn't seen the horror unfolding before my eyes. My breath caught in my throat when the window directly in front of me, 21 floors up, imploded with an ear-shattering roar.
Glass shattered and shards flew inward like a deadly rain. The impact was immediate; air rushed in as the pressure changed and a deafening whoom echoed through the chamber. A low moan began deep within my chest and I felt the vibration of it reverberate through me.
A man stumbled into me, his eyes wide and white. We both reeled back, our footing uncertain on the slick floor. Blood streamed down his forehead where a glistening shard had cut him. He cried out as another piece embedded itself in his arm, and with a convulsion of agony, he pulled it free and let the wound spill its crimson.
I felt the world around me slipping away, colors bleeding into grays as the scene descended further into chaos. People screamed as they scrambled for cover, desperate to get clear of the gaping void. Glass littered every inch of the floor, glistening like a deadly, diamond-strewn sea.
Another explosion ripped through the building and my head whipped around. A ball of flame erupted in the far corner, the fire consuming the space like a living entity. Flames licked across the walls, and smoke billowed upward in great black clouds, stinging the eyes with acrid bitterness. I could taste the ozone in the air, the scent of burning fabric and searing metal.
My mind was reeling as I stumbled through the madness, driven by a primal urge to escape. The air was heavy with screams, the scent of blood, and smoke, a miasma of terror that choked me. I covered my mouth, fighting against the urge to gag as the acrid smell of burnt rubber mingled with the copper tang of blood.
A figure careened into me, sending me crashing to the floor. My breath left me in a whoosh as the impact jarred every bone in my body. I looked up to see a young woman's face contorted in agony, a jagged piece of glass buried deep in her thigh.
"Please..." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, her eyes pleading with mine.
I reached out and carefully pulled the shard free, wincing at the tenderness of it. Blood pulsed from the wound as I wrapped my hand around it, pressing gently to stanch the flow.
"Stay with me," I said, trying to infuse some steadiness into my voice despite the quivering mess that was my stomach. "We're getting out of here."
The woman's eyelids fluttered shut, a small nod the only acknowledgment she could manage. I scooped her into my arms, wincing at the added weight, and hefted her over my shoulder, my gaze darting back to the window.
It had stopped spewing shards, but the sheer expanse of emptiness stretched out before us like a void, taunting and merciless. The floor trembled and shuddered, each new boom sending vibrations through my bones, threatening to collapse the fragile structure around me.
With the woman secure, I pushed myself up, ignoring the protests from my protesting muscles and the dull throb of a headache that was fast forming at the base of my skull. The world around me was a kaleidoscope of chaos – smoke billowed, debris rained down, and screams continued to punctuate the cacophony like a gruesome soundtrack.
I staggered forward, my eyes scanning for a path, any way out of the burning, crumbling building. But every door I approached was blocked by the throng of panicked people, all desperate for an exit.
The heat from the flames intensified, making my skin feel dry and tight. I could taste the ash and smoke on the back of my tongue. Panic began to set in, my breath coming in short gasps as the seconds ticked by.
And then, just as hope was starting to dwindle, a gap appeared between two doors, a narrow slit of daylight beckoning us toward it. Without hesitation, I lunged through, the woman's limp form bouncing against me with each step.
As we burst into the cool night air, my lungs sucked in a grateful gulp of fresh oxygen. But relief was short-lived. A cacophony of sirens greeted us, the wailing sounds growing louder as the first responders arrived on the scene.
The building continued to shake and tremble behind me, its mangled skeleton exposed like a gutted corpse as flames engulfed it from the inside out. People stumbled out, some covered in soot, others with horrific injuries. I watched, frozen, as the once-towering monolith began to crumble, sending showers of sparks and debris into the night sky.
And amidst the chaos, I stood, holding onto the woman as the world around us burned. The sky above was a sickly shade of orange, reflecting the inferno below, and casting long shadows across the devastation that spread out before me.
In this moment, time seemed to stand still – a macabre tableau of destruction, of life interrupted, and of humanity's fragile existence in the face of catastrophic evil. The sounds of sirens and screams blended with the roar of the flames, creating an earsplitting din that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality.
As I stared out at the wreckage, the weight of the horrors I'd witnessed began to sink in. It was as if the universe itself had exploded in a riot of destruction, and I stood there, caught in the maelstrom of it all, holding onto this woman whose life was still fragile in my hands.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. The pov character will CURSE AND SWEAR, and generally have a "filthy" mouth.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
(Gen 1, Temp=0, rep pen= 1.05)
I sprint through the dark alley, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackrabbit on speed. The stench of rotting garbage and stale urine fills my nostrils as I weave between the towering dumpsters, desperate to lose the goons hot on my heels.
"Fuckers!" I spit, my voice echoing off the brick walls. "You'll never take me alive!"
A bullet whizzes past my ear, the sound of its impact making me flinch. I duck behind a stack of crates, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Peeking around the corner, I spot two of them – burly, expressionless thugs with guns drawn.
"Come out, rebel scum," one growls, his voice muffled by the mask covering his face. "We know you're in here."
I curse under my breath, my mind racing. I can't let them capture me now, not after all we've risked to get this far. The fate of our revolution hangs in the balance.
With a deep breath, I spring into action, hurling a nearby trash can at the thugs with all my might. It crashes into them, sending them stumbling back. I seize the opportunity, dashing forward and leaping over a low wall that separates the alley from the main street.
I hit the pavement running, my combat boots pounding the asphalt as I weave through the crowded sidewalks. People part like the Red Sea, their faces a blur of shock and fear. I can't blame them – in a world where dissent is punishable by death, even the bravest souls keep their heads down.
But not me. I'm the one they call the Phoenix, the spark that ignited this rebellion. And I won't rest until our tyrannical government crumbles to dust.
I spot a familiar figure waiting at the corner – my best friend and fellow rebel, Jax. His eyes lock onto mine, and he gives a curt nod before melting into the crowd. I follow suit, blending in with the throngs of people as we make our way to the safe house.
But just as I think we've escaped, a hand clamps down on my shoulder, spinning me around. I find myself face-to-face with the most feared man in the city – General Kael, the dictator's right-hand man.
"Well, well, well," he sneers, his cold blue eyes glinting with malice. "Look what we have here. The infamous Phoenix, caught red-handed."
I struggle against his grip, but it's like trying to break free from a steel vice. "Let me go, you son of a bitch!" I snarl, spitting in his face.
Kael wipes the saliva away with the back of his hand, his expression unchanging. "You're under arrest for treason," he declares, his voice dripping with contempt. "And this time, there will be no mercy."
I feel a chill run down my spine as I realize the gravity of our situation. We've been caught, and now our fate hangs in the balance. But even as fear grips my heart, I know I won't back down.
Not now. Not ever.
"Bring it on," I spit at Kael, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I'll take you all down with me."
And with that, everything goes black.
(Gen 2, Temp=1.5, rep pen= 1.05)Fuck. This was not how I envisioned my day.
I sprinted down the dark alleyway, bullets whizzing past my ears and pattering off the crumbling brick walls. My breath came in ragged gasps as I weaved between piles of garbage and discarded machinery. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder filled my nostrils, making my stomach churn.
"Run, Ari!" I heard Marcus' voice, hoarse with urgency, over the din of chaos erupting behind me. "Get out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. This wasn't the first close call I'd had tonight, but it was definitely the most intense. Our rebel group, the Phoenix Resistance, had infiltrated one of the government's secret underground bases, intent on gathering intel that could bring the dictator to his knees.
But things had gone sideways quickly. The moment we breached the compound, alarms blared to life and the soldiers came pouring out of every doorway, guns blazing. We'd fought our way through, taking down as many as we could, but there were too many, and too much firepower.
I darted around a rusty dumpster, nearly tripping over its twisted edge. A loud crash echoed behind me as someone burst through a door, probably Marcus trying to cover my escape.
"Keep moving!" he yelled, his voice muffled by the intervening walls and doors.
I risked a glance back, catching a glimpse of him trading shots with a government trooper through the narrow gap in the wall. My heart twisted with worry as I realized just how outmatched we were.
Focus, Ari. You need to get to the extraction point or it'll all be for nothing.
I pushed myself to run faster, my combat boots pounding the uneven pavement. The alley twisted and turned, throwing me off balance. I cursed under my breath as my hand slapped against cold metal, jolting me back from a sudden wall of corrugated steel.
My heart thundered in my chest as I realized I'd just missed the exit by a hair. The emergency route out was supposed to be marked with a bright red stripe, but the dim light made it nearly invisible against the dull backdrop of concrete and grime.
Panic clawed at my insides as I frantically scanned the wall, my eyes straining to make out any hint of color amidst the gloom. A faint red smudge caught my attention and I dove toward it, almost tripping in my haste.
"Yes!" I whispered in triumph as I grabbed the edge of the door and yanked it open. Cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the distant rumble of the city's nightlife.
But as I tumbled out into the relative safety of the street, a fierce growl erupted from a dark corner. A massive figure emerged, its eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.
"Ahh, Ari!" Marcus' voice came, laced with alarm as he finally burst through the door behind me. "Look out—"
But I was already spinning to face the newcomer, my hand flying to the dagger at my hip. The beast-like creature took a step closer, its hot breath washing over me as I held my ground, ready to strike.
And then everything went black.
TO BE CONTINUED...
(Gen 3, Temp=3.25, rep pen= 1.05)Fucking hell, my heart raced as I sprinted down the alley, adrenaline coursing through my veins like a fire hose. Gunfire and screams echoed through the city, the acrid scent of smoke and ozone hanging heavy in the air. I was close, so close to the rendezvous point, but these damned security forces had other plans.
"Turn right, Ana! Now!" shouted Raul's voice from the corner of the alley. His instructions were lost in the din of battle, but I spotted his black-clad figure weaving between trash cans and leapt that way, my combat boots pounding the wet pavement.
I could barely make out the shape of his gun in his hand, the muzzle flashing as he returned fire at some unseen enemy. The air around me crackled with electricity, each report making my teeth ache from the proximity. We needed to get the fuck out of Dodge and fast before this alleyway became a graveyard.
"Raul, I'm coming!" I bellowed over the chaos, praying his aim would stay steady and our enemies would focus on someone less threatening than him at that moment.
The moment he reached me, we turned as one, sprinting into the chaos of the city street. It was mayhem, absolute anarchy – burning buildings, overturned vehicles, snipers perched on rooftops, and armed rebels exchanging fire with the ruthless soldiers loyal to our country's dictator. We were in the thick of it, the war zone where innocent civilians often found themselves caught in the crossfire.
We spotted our target - the secret safe house, tucked away behind a dilapidated warehouse, its location known to only a select few of the rebels. The moment we reached the entrance, Raul grabbed me by the arm and shoved us both through the doorway. We dove inside just as the entire building shook under a hail of bullets. The soundproofing did its best to muffle the onslaught, but the air grew thick with the stench of cordite and our own panic.
I frantically scanned the dimly lit room, my heart hammering against my chest as I counted the rebels. They were here – all accounted for. We'd pulled off the heist, retrieved the classified documents, and escaped with our lives...for now. I breathed a silent prayer of relief as my gaze fell upon Sofia, our leader, huddled near the communications equipment.
"We made it," Raul said, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.
"Yeah, but it's not over yet," Sofia countered, her dark eyes flashing with determination. "We have the files. Now, we must use them."
The documents contained irrefutable evidence of corruption, abuse of power, and human rights violations orchestrated by our tyrannical leader, El Jefe. It was enough to bring him down – or so we believed. If our plan worked, the people would rise up and demand change.
"But they'll find us," I warned, my mind already racing with scenarios. "They have patrols circling this area, snipers positioned in key points, and their entire surveillance network is no doubt being scanned for our presence. We're sitting ducks if we don't get out of here ASAP."
"We won't move until the rest of the team has joined us and the escape plan is set," Sofia declared firmly, her hand already grasping the comms device. "In the meantime, everyone needs to lay low. We're not safe here, Ana, so stay alert."
I nodded in agreement, but as I took stock of the room's security measures, my gut twisted into a knot. We relied heavily on the skills and bravery of our rebels, yet we were vastly outgunned and outnumbered by the enemy forces.
I felt Raul's hand on my shoulder, a reassuring presence in this sea of chaos. "We've come too far to turn back now," he whispered, reading my concerns in the lines of my face. "Together, we can change this fucked up system. We have no choice but to keep going."
Sofia clicked the comms device open and began to speak urgently, coordinating with the others as I settled into the chair beside her. I glanced out the window, where a line of smoke drifted lazily from an adjacent rooftop – one more target, one less rebel.
We were on the brink of something historic – or catastrophic. One misstep could seal our fates, but so could victory. And yet, even with the stakes so perilously high, I felt alive, electrified by the thrill of revolution.
My breath caught as the comms crackled to life with the sound of distant gunfire, the first sign that another part of our team was engaging the enemy. My pulse spiked at the news. It meant we were close to getting the whole crew together and putting this escape plan into action...but also that the forces of oppression would stop at nothing to crush us.
My eyes met Raul's, a silent pact passing between us – we'd fight for freedom, even as the very fabric of our world crumbled around us. Then, a deafening blast shook the walls, followed by an ominous silence that made my heart sink into my stomach.
The safe house was about to become our final battleground...
(continue this scene:) The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
(Gen 1, Temp=0, rep pen= 1.05)
The second part of the silence was a quiet of expectation, like the stillness that precedes a storm or the moment before a hunter draws back his bowstring. It was as if the very air was charged with anticipation, waiting for something to happen, though what that might be no one could say.
And the third part of the silence was the deepest and most profound. It was a quiet of resignation, a stillness born of long years of disappointment and disillusionment. This was the silence of the innkeeper, Durin, as he sat hunched over his fire, staring into the flames with eyes that had seen too much and hoped for too little.
The Waystone Inn had once been a bustling hub of activity, a place where weary travelers could rest their heads and share stories of adventure and danger. But those days were long gone, and now the inn was little more than a lonely outpost on a forgotten road, a relic of a bygone era.
Durin's thoughts drifted back to the days when the inn was full of life and laughter, when patrons would gather 'round the fire and regale each other with tales of mythical lands and legendary heroes. He remembered the thrill of meeting new people, hearing their stories, and sharing in their joys and sorrows.
But those times were gone, and now Durin was left with only his memories and the endless, echoing silence of the Waystone Inn. He sighed, a sound that seemed to fill the empty rooms and corridors, and reached for his mug, taking a long swig of the bitter ale that was all he had to keep him company on this cold and lonely night.
(Gen 2, Temp=1.5, rep pen= 1.05)the hollowest of hollow silences.
The second part, the one that was more subtle, was the silence of expectation. It was a quiet that hung in the air like the stillness before a storm, waiting for some event to break it apart. It was as if the Waystone and everything around it held its breath, anticipating the arrival of travelers or the start of some adventure. This was the kind of hush that could stretch for days, until at last someone would stumble through the door, or a weary messenger would ride up on a worn horse. When that moment came, the silence would shatter like ice underfoot, replaced by the buzz of excitement and the clinking of mugs.
The third part was the quietest of all, the silence of understanding. It was a stillness born not of absence but of presence – the hush of minds already aware of the world's hidden nature, and the quiet acceptance that comes with such knowledge. This was the kind of silence that might be shared by two old friends sitting together in a quiet tavern, speaking no words at all, yet communicating volumes through their eyes and the way they leaned into each other. It was as if they had already discussed everything worth saying, and now they could simply enjoy the quiet companionship.
Inside the Waystone Inn, only the fire crackled in the hearth, spitting and snapping at the darkness. The innkeeper, a man named Dazed Dane, sat at his post behind the bar, staring into the flames with eyes that saw neither the fire nor the room around him. His mind was lost in thoughts of the world outside these four walls – of the roads he'd traveled, the people he'd met, and the countless tales that lay hidden in the hearts of those who wandered from place to place.
Outside, the darkness held sway, a blanket of stars twinkling above the rolling hills and dense forests that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a lone figure made their way down the moonlit road, approaching the inn with cautious steps. As they drew nearer, the silence around the Waystone began to shift, like a bird taking flight, growing heavier with anticipation as it awaited the arrival of the traveler and the stories they would bring with them into the night.
(Gen 3, Temp=3.25, rep pen= 1.05)the second kind was a quiet of contemplation, an expectant stillness as if the very stones and timbers were poised to welcome the return of some long absent lord. A silence like this often precedes a royal visit, or the arrival of a celebrated figure, when anticipation hangs heavy in the air, weighing on all who wait in the stillness. This was not that case here at the Waystone Inn. No pomp awaited anyone; rather, the very absence of these customary trappings of welcome suggested instead a place and people resigned to a less eventful existence.
Finally, the third and most profound part of the silence at the inn lay not in any lack or anticipation, but in something more elemental. This was a quiet that descended from the deep wellspring of ages past, the cumulative hush of countless nights, the collective sigh of centuries of weary travelers. A silence like the calm at the heart of a hurricane, this third aspect was as old as stone itself, ancient as the first whispered secrets exchanged in hidden corners by early settlers of this land long since vanished or assimilated. In this respect, the Waystone Inn had borne silent witness to a thousand histories, its timbers listening intently, absorbing every tale told, each jest shared and each secret whispered, then locking these away within its stony heart to be unearthed by later generations.