WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Light HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
It is a LLama 3.2 model, max context of 128k (131,000) using mixture of experts to combine EIGHT top L3.2 3B models into one massive powerhouse at 18.4B parameters (equal to 24B - 8 X 3B).
This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are exceptional.
And it is fast: 50+ t/s (2 experts) on a low end 16GB card, IQ4XS.
Double this speed for standard/mid-range video cards.
Model can be used also for all genres (examples below showing this).
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 outputs below, including 2, 4 and 8 experts used.
Model Notes:
Meet the Team: Mixture of Experts Models
This model is comprised of the following 8 models ("the experts") (in full):
https://huggingface.co/huihui-ai/Llama-3.2-3B-Instruct-abliterated
The mixture of experts is set at 2 experts, but you can use 3,4,5,6.. 7 and even 8.
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:6"
(no quotes, where "6" 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).
FLASH ATTENTION ENHANCEMENT:
As per user feedback here [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama-3.2-8X3B-MOE-Dark-Champion-Instruct-uncensored-abliterated-18.4B-GGUF/discussions/1 ] 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.
However there are a few "censored" models which can sometimes interfer, so here is a how to address this:
1 - Regen your prompt a few times.
2 - INCREASE the number of experts used.
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, 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 IQ4_XS, "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 TWO, 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.
(examples with 2, 4, and 8 experts)
The bell above the door jingled as the actor, Rhys, stepped into the small-town bookstore, his eyes scanning the shelves for an escape from the paparazzi chaos outside. He'd ducked in, hoping to blend in and collect himself before facing the cameras again.
Behind the counter, bookstore owner, Emilia, looked up from the book she was reading, her gaze meeting Rhys's for a brief moment before returning to her task. "Welcome to Pages & Co. Can I help you find anything?"
Rhys flashed his famous smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just browsing, love. Mind if I take a seat?"
Emilia's expression remained neutral, but her brow furrowed slightly. She gestured to the chair beside the window. "Please, help yourself."
As Rhys settled in, Emilia continued to work, her movements economical and efficient. Rhys watched her, intrigued by the understated elegance of the woman. He'd played his fair share of charming leads, but there was something about this one that caught him off guard.
"So, what's the best book you have on the shelves?" Rhys asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite his growing interest.
Emilia looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she appraised Rhys. "We have a wide selection. What genre are you in the mood for?"
Rhys chuckled, his charm kicking into high gear. "I'm an actor, so I'm open to anything. But if I had to choose, I'd say something with a bit of drama, a bit of passion."
Emilia raised an eyebrow, her tone light but firm. "Well, we do have some excellent historical fiction. Or perhaps something more...contemporary?"
Rhys's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sensed Emilia's subtle rebuff. But he refused to take it personally, convinced that the woman just didn't know what she was dealing with. "Oh, I think I'll take your word for it. You seem like the expert here."
Emilia's expression softened ever so slightly, but she remained firm. "I'm just a bookstore owner, not a literary critic."
Rhys laughed, his charm on high alert. "Well, in that case, I'll trust your expertise. What do you recommend?"
As Emilia began to browse through the shelves, Rhys found himself watching her more closely, admiring the way her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. He felt a pang of frustration, sensing that he was being rebuffed despite his best efforts.
"Excuse me," Rhys said, his voice low and smooth. "I couldn't help but notice you're reading...Jane Austen. A fan, I presume?"
Emilia looked up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Guilty as charged. I find her wit and insight into human nature to be unparalleled."
Rhys grinned, his charm re-engaged. "Ah, a kindred spirit! I've always been a fan of Austen myself. There's something about the way she weaves together the lives of her characters that just draws you in."
Emilia's expression turned thoughtful, her eyes drifting back to the book in her hand. "I think it's the way she captures the complexities of human nature, the way she reveals the depths and shallowness of people's hearts. It's like she's holding up a mirror to us all."
Rhys's smile faltered again, his gaze locked on Emilia's. He sensed that she was saying something more, something deeper than just a simple appreciation for Austen's writing. But he couldn't quite grasp it.
As the silence between them grew, Rhys felt his charm start to wane, replaced by a growing sense of curiosity. Who was this woman, and why did she seem so immune to his charms?
"Thanks for the recommendation," Rhys said finally, standing up to leave. "I'll have to come back and read some more Austen. Maybe even pick up a few of your recommendations."
Emilia looked up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'd like that."
As Rhys walked out of the store, he felt a sense of disappointment wash over him. He'd been so sure that he'd won Emilia over, that he'd charmed her into submission. But as he stepped back into the bright sunlight, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just scratched the surface of something more.
And as he walked away from the store, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd just met his match.
Generation #2 - 4 Experts
The sun-drenched streets of Llanfair were always bustling, but on this particular afternoon, they seemed to be humming with a frenetic energy. The paparazzi had finally tracked down the elusive actor, Rhys Williams, and were hot on his heels. He ducked into the small, independent bookstore, hoping to escape the chaos.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old books and the soft hum of conversation. Rhys scanned the room, his eyes locking onto a woman with a kind face and a mop of curly brown hair. She was sitting behind the counter, her nose buried in a leather-bound volume.
"Excuse me," Rhys said, approaching her with a charming smile. "I'm looking for a specific title. Do you carry any books on Welsh folklore?"
The woman looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Rhys's chiseled features and tailored suit. "I think we might have a few," she replied, her voice steady. "What's the title of the book you're looking for?"
Rhys chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm not sure. I've been reading a lot of mythology lately, and I'm trying to find something that speaks to me on a deeper level."
The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "And what makes you think you're qualified to read about Welsh folklore?"
Rhys laughed, his grin faltering for a moment before he recovered. "Fair point. I've just...appreciated the stories of old. The myths, the legends...they speak to something in me, you know?"
The woman's gaze lingered on him, her eyes searching. "I think I do," she said finally, her voice a little softer. "But I'm not sure I believe it."
Rhys leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. "That's okay. I don't blame you. I'm not exactly a scholar. But I do know that there's something about these stories that resonates with me. Something that makes me feel...alive."
The woman's expression softened, and for a moment, Rhys thought he saw a glimmer of something else in her eyes. Something that wasn't quite friendship.
"I'm Gwen," she said, her voice a little stronger now. "And you are...?"
"Rhys," he replied, his smile still plastered on his face. "It's nice to meet you, Gwen. I think I'll take a look at those books you mentioned."
Gwen nodded, her eyes flicking to the shelves behind her. "Okay. Let me show you what we have."
As she rummaged through the books, Rhys couldn't help but notice the way her hair curled slightly at the nape of her neck. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. He felt a pang of frustration, a sense that he was being rejected, that Gwen wasn't interested in him.
But as he watched her, he realized that Gwen wasn't rejecting him. She was simply...unimpressed. By his charm, by his good looks, by his attempts to woo her.
Rhys's eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation igniting within him. He'd never been one to take rejection well, and Gwen's indifference was starting to get under his skin.
"Thanks for your help, Gwen," he said, his voice a little gruff. "I think I'll take this one."
Gwen handed him the book, her eyes meeting his for a moment before she looked away. Rhys felt a jolt of electricity at the touch of her hand, but he pushed it aside, telling himself he was being ridiculous.
"Thanks," Gwen said, her voice flat. "That'll be £10 please."
Rhys handed over his credit card, his eyes never leaving Gwen's face. As he waited for the machine to process his payment, he felt a sense of unease growing within him. Gwen wasn't playing hard to get. She was simply...different.
When the machine beeped, Rhys took his change and tucked it into his pocket. "Thanks again, Gwen," he said, his voice a little softer now. "I'll be back soon."
Gwen nodded, her expression still neutral. "I'll look forward to it."
As Rhys turned to leave, he felt a sense of disappointment wash over him. He'd expected Gwen to swoon, to be completely won over by his charms. But instead, she'd simply...dismissed him.
He stepped out of the bookstore, the bright sunlight hitting him like a slap in the face. He felt a pang of frustration, a sense that he'd been rejected.
But as he looked back at the bookstore, he caught a glimpse of Gwen watching him from the window. Her eyes were soft, her expression...almost...charmed.
Rhys's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Gwen wasn't immune to his charms after all. She just...preferred to hide it.
He smiled to himself, a sense of excitement building within him. He'd been playing the wrong game all along. It wasn't about winning Gwen over with his charm and good looks. It was about...understanding her.
And that was going to be a lot more fun than he ever could have imagined.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
"Sorry, I'm just... Ah, sorry about this," Ryder Jackson muttered, slipping into the cozy bookstore like a man trying to escape his own reflection. He'd had enough of the paparazzi for one day.
Shelagh Williams, the owner of the shop, looked up from behind the counter, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Ryder's disheveled appearance. "Can I help you?" she asked, her Welsh accent dripping with a hint of skepticism.
Ryder flashed his famous smile, but it faltered for a moment before he recovered. "Just... looking for something. A book, that is. I'm Ryder Jackson, by the way."
Shelagh's gaze lingered on him for a beat before she nodded and returned to her work. "Shelagh Williams. Welcome to the bookstore. What kind of book are you looking for?"
Ryder wandered over to the shelves, running his fingers over the spines of the books. "I'm not sure. I'm in the mood for something... literary. You know, something that'll make me feel like a real person for a change."
Shelagh chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Literary, eh? You've been in the public eye long enough to know what that means. You're not exactly known for your love of books, are you?"
Ryder's smile faltered, and for a moment, Shelagh glimpsed a flash of vulnerability behind his polished facade. "I... I don't know what you mean," he said, his voice a little too loud.
Shelagh raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Oh, come now, Mr. Jackson. Everyone knows who you are. The dashing leading man with a reputation for being... well, let's just say 'difficult' on set."
Ryder's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't help the spark of defensiveness that flared within him. "I'm just trying to live my life, okay? I don't need everyone to know every little thing about me."
Shelagh's expression softened, and she leaned against the counter, her eyes never leaving Ryder's face. "I'm not trying to pry, Mr. Jackson. I'm just... intrigued. You're not like most celebrities I've met. You seem... genuine."
Ryder snorted, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "Genuine? Me? Ha! I'm a master of the art of being charming. I've spent years honing my skills, and I'm good at it."
Shelagh's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I think you might be selling yourself short, Mr. Jackson. You don't need to be charming to be genuine. Sometimes, it's just... okay to be yourself."
Ryder's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and curiosity. "What do you know about being genuine?" he asked, his voice a little softer now.
Shelagh shrugged, her expression still warm. "I know that people can see right through a facade if they want to. I know that sometimes, it's better to just be yourself, even if that means being a little... rough around the edges."
Ryder's gaze lingered on Shelagh, his eyes searching for something. For a moment, Shelagh felt like she'd been punched in the gut – not from the physical impact, but from the raw emotion that lay beneath Ryder's charming exterior.
"I think I'm going to take your advice, Shelagh," Ryder said finally, his voice a little quieter now. "I think I'll try being myself, even if that means being a little... rough around the edges."
Shelagh smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think that's a great idea, Mr. Jackson. Now, would you like to take a look at our selection of poetry books? I think you might find something there that suits your... unique tastes."
Ryder's smile faltered, and for a moment, Shelagh glimpsed a glimmer of something more beneath the surface – something that looked an awful lot like attraction. But Ryder quickly recovered, his charm and charisma reasserting themselves like a protective shield.
"Ah, poetry, yes... I think that sounds perfect," Ryder said, his voice smooth as silk once again. "I'll take a look."
As Shelagh led Ryder to the poetry section, Shelagh couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. She'd never been one for the spotlight, and she certainly didn't crave the attention of famous people. But there was something about Ryder Jackson that drew her in – something that made her want to peel back the layers of his charm and see what lay beneath.
And as they browsed the shelves together, Shelagh couldn't help but wonder if Ryder was finally starting to crack under the pressure of his own ego – or if he was just starting to find someone who could see past the façade and into the real person beneath.
(generations with 2, 4 and 8 experts)
I clutched the armrests of my chair, my knuckles white with tension, as the skyscraper swayed ominously beneath me. The glass walls of the office building seemed to quiver and shudder, like a living entity in agony. My gaze was fixed on the window in front of me, where a blinding flash had just illuminated the darkening sky.
At first, I thought it was just another one of those freak electrical storms that occasionally ravaged our city. But then I saw it - a figure, slumped against the shattered glass, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The light from the explosion illuminated their face, and for an instant, I recognized my coworker, Sarah. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in a silent scream.
But it wasn't her eyes that haunted me. It was what lay beyond them - a maelstrom of darkness that seemed to seethe and writhe like a living thing. As if whatever had been inside Sarah's body was now bursting free, spilling out into the night air like a noxious black liquid.
My mind recoiled in horror as I stared at the carnage unfolding before me. The rest of the office had gone dark, plunging us all into an eerie twilight world. Flickering fluorescent lights cast macabre shadows on the walls, making it seem as though something was moving just out of sight, lurking in the corners.
I tried to tear my gaze away, but it was rooted to the scene before me. The figure in Sarah's body began to convulse and twitch, its limbs flailing wildly as if trying to shake off some unseen burden. Its skin had turned a sickly shade of gray, and its mouth hung agape, revealing jagged teeth that seemed to be dripping with blood.
A low moan echoed through the building, growing louder with each passing moment. It sounded like nothing human, more like the sound of dry leaves blowing in an endless wind. My heart sank as I realized that this was no ordinary explosion - something had breached our defenses, something ancient and malevolent.
The skyscraper swayed again, its movements becoming more erratic and violent. I felt the floor beneath me tremble, as if the very foundations of the building were being torn apart by some unseen force. Panic set in as I scrambled for my phone, desperate to call for help.
But my fingers stumbled over the keyboard, unable to find the right buttons. The screen glowed with gibberish code that made no sense to me - it was as though whatever was happening to Sarah had somehow infected our technology itself.
As I watched, frozen in terror, Sarah's body began to disintegrate, her limbs melting away like wax in a furnace. Her face contorted into a twisted grimace, and for an instant, I thought I saw her eyes flash open one last time, filled with a deep and abiding hatred.
And then she was gone. Replaced by something new, something monstrous. A thing with skin like blackened steel and eyes that burned with an otherworldly green fire.
The air around us grew colder, heavy with an unspeakable malevolence that pressed against my eardrums like a physical presence. I could feel it crawling up my legs, spreading across my chest like frostbite. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at the horror unfolding before me.
I knew we were doomed. We were trapped in a building that was now a portal to some dark realm, a realm where horrors beyond human comprehension lurked in every shadow. And we were the first ones to stumble into this abyss.
I tried to scream, but my voice was drowned out by the cacophony of chaos that erupted around me - the wail of sirens that never came, the screams of the damned that echoed through the darkness. The skyscraper shuddered once more, throwing me into the back of my chair.
As I looked around frantically for any sign of escape, I realized that we were not alone on the 21st floor. There were others - huddled together in fear, their faces drained of color as they stared at the horror unfolding before them. Some were screaming; others were praying. And still, no one seemed to have noticed what had happened to Sarah... or what had become of her.
But I knew the truth. I saw it with my own eyes, saw it writ large in the face of the monster that had taken its place. We were about to become part of something ancient and evil - something that would consume us all, soul and body.
The darkness closed in around us, an icy grip that tightened with every passing moment. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for what was to come. But even as I did so, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever horrors lay ahead would be far more terrible than anything we could imagine.
Generation #2 - 4 experts used
The sky scraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. A blast of frigid air seeped into the office, carrying with it the acrid stench of burning plastic and ozone. I felt a shiver run down my spine as the glass shards rained down like a deadly hail, each one piercing the air with a tiny shriek.
I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on the carnage below. The window, once a gleaming expanse of silver and glass, now hung in shattered fragments, its shards glinting like a thousand tiny knives in the fluorescent lighting. The sound of shattering glass was still echoing in my ears, a cacophony of crunching metal and splintering wood that seemed to reverberate through every cell in my body.
I felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline as I realized that the explosion had come from the window, not from outside. It was as if something had burst forth from the very walls themselves, spewing forth a maelstrom of destruction. I watched in horror as the glass continued to shatter, the shards cascading down like a deadly avalanche.
My heart racing, I tried to tear my gaze away from the carnage, but I couldn't. I was transfixed by the sheer brutality of it all. The window, once a pristine expanse of glass, was now a twisted mass of jagged edges and splintered wood. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and burning plastic, a noxious cloud that hung heavy over the office like a miasma of death.
I was trapped, paralyzed by fear as I watched the chaos unfold below. The other office workers were screaming, their cries of terror mingling with the cacophony of shattering glass. Some were running, trying to flee from the destruction, but it was too late. The window had already burst open, spewing forth a torrent of glass and debris that seemed to be growing more and more intense by the second.
I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead as I realized that I was running out of time. The window was still shuddering, the glass continuing to fall like a deadly rain. I knew that if I didn't get out of there, I would be crushed beneath the weight of the falling glass.
I tried to move, but my legs felt like lead. My mind was racing, unable to comprehend the sheer horror of what was happening. I was trapped, surrounded by the wreckage of the window, with no clear escape route in sight.
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around. I found myself face to face with my coworker, Mark, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the window.
"What the...?" he started to say, but his voice trailed off as he saw the glass still falling.
He grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the door. "We have to get out of here!" he yelled, but I couldn't move. I was frozen in place, unable to tear my gaze away from the carnage below.
Mark pulled harder, his grip like a vice. I felt my muscles tense, my legs trembling beneath me. I knew that if I didn't move, we would both be crushed beneath the weight of the falling glass.
With a Herculean effort, Mark heaved me towards the door, and I stumbled out into the corridor. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and burning plastic, and I could hear the sound of shattering glass still echoing through the office.
We sprinted down the corridor, our footsteps pounding against the floor. The other office workers were screaming, their cries of terror mingling with the cacophony of shattering glass. We weaved through the throng, desperate to escape the chaos.
As we reached the stairwell, Mark yanked open the door and we tumbled down the stairs, our feet pounding against the metal steps. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and burning plastic, and I could hear the sound of shattering glass still echoing through the office.
We reached the ground floor and burst out into the alleyway, the cool night air a welcome relief from the heat of the office. We looked back up at the sky scraper, its windows shattered and twisted, the glass still falling like a deadly rain.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I realized that we had narrowly escaped the worst of the destruction. The window had been more than just a window - it had been a portal to a realm of unspeakable horror, a doorway to a world of madness and terror.
As I looked up at the sky scraper, I felt a creeping sense of dread. The explosion had been more than just an accident - it had been a warning. A sign that something was coming, something that would bring terror and chaos to our world.
I knew that I would never forget the sight of that shattered window, the sound of glass shattering like a thousand tiny knives. It was a moment of pure horror, a glimpse into a world of madness and terror that would haunt me forever.
Mark turned to me, his eyes wide with fear. "What was that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.
I shook my head, unable to find the words. I knew that I would never be able to answer him, not now, not ever. The truth was too terrible to comprehend, too monstrous to bear.
All I could do was stand there, frozen in place, as the darkness closed in around us like a shroud.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode. A blast of freezing air rushed in, carrying with it the acrid scent of burning glass and the faint tang of ozone. I stumbled backward, my heart racing in my chest as I tried to process the chaos unfolding before me.
At first, I thought it was just another one of the city's many construction mishaps. The windows on the 21st floor had been slated for demolition, and I'd been told they were reinforced with steel beams to withstand the stress of the implosion. But this wasn't an implosion – it was a violent, explosive tearing apart of the glass.
As I watched, a shard of shattered glass shot out from the broken window like a razor-sharp arrow, slicing through the air mere inches from my face. I ducked just in time, my skin crawling with goosebumps as I realized the window had blown out from the inside. Someone – or something – had deliberately blown it.
Panic set in as I frantically scanned the area, my eyes darting from one face to the next. My coworkers, my friends, my family – they were all staring at me with a mix of confusion and terror. Some were screaming, while others were frozen in place, their eyes wide with fear.
I spotted our team lead, Rachel, standing near the stairwell, her phone clutched to her ear as she tried to call for help. I sprinted toward her, my heels clicking on the polished floor. "Rachel, oh god, what's happening?" I shouted above the din of chaos.
She hung up the phone and turned to me, her face ashen. "It's the entire 21st floor," she whispered. "The windows blew out, and...and something's coming through."
I stared at her, incredulous. "What do you mean?"
Rachel's eyes darted toward the broken window, as if she expected something to be emerging from the mangled glass. "I don't know, but it's not human. I've never seen anything like it."
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I turned back to the window. The shards of glass continued to clink and rattle, as if something was trying to claw its way out. I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was inside was watching me, waiting for its moment to strike.
As I watched, a dark, amorphous shape began to take form within the broken glass. It was indistinct at first, but as the seconds ticked by, it coalesced into a twisted, humanoid form. The air around it seemed to ripple and distort, as if reality itself was bending to accommodate its presence.
I felt my blood run cold as I realized that whatever this creature was, it was not of this world. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and its very presence seemed to draw the air out of the room, leaving us gasping for breath.
The creature's form began to shift and writhe, like a living shadow. Its limbs elongated and twisted, taking on a grotesque, inhuman shape. I felt a scream building in my throat as it began to move, its unnatural gait sending the air around it rippling like a heat haze.
Rachel grabbed my arm, her grip like a vice. "We need to get out of here," she whispered. "Now."
I didn't need to be told twice. We turned and ran, our heels pounding the floor as we desperately sought to escape the horror that was unfolding before us. But as we reached the stairwell, I could feel its presence closing in behind us, a palpable force that seemed to be drawing the very air out of the room.
We stumbled down the stairs, our hearts racing with fear. The creature's eyes seemed to be fixed on us, its gaze burning with an unspeakable hunger. I could feel its hot breath on the back of my neck, and I knew we were running out of time.
As we reached the ground floor, we burst through the doors and out into the night air. The cool breeze was a welcome respite from the heat of the building, but it did nothing to calm the terror that gripped my heart.
We stood there, panting and trembling, as the creature emerged from the building behind us. It was massive, its twisted form looming over the street like a monolith. Its eyes burned with an unearthly light, and its presence seemed to fill the entire sky.
Rachel grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. "We need to get out of here," she repeated. "Now."
I didn't need to be told twice. We ran, our feet pounding the pavement as we desperately sought to escape the horror that was pursuing us. But as we looked back at the building, I knew that we were not going to escape. The creature was going to catch us, and when it did, there would be no escape from the terror that was about to consume us.
The city lights seemed to blur and distort as we ran, the sounds of the creature's pursuit growing louder and closer. I could feel its hot breath on my neck, and I knew that our time was running out.
As we turned the corner onto Main Street, I caught a glimpse of the creature's twisted form in the distance. Its eyes seemed to be fixed on us, and I knew that we were doomed. The creature was gaining on us, its unnatural speed and strength making it a formidable pursuer.
We ran, our hearts pounding in our chests, as the creature closed in behind us. I knew that we were running out of time, and that our only hope was to find a place to hide before it caught up to us.
But as we turned onto Elm Street, I realized that there was no escape. The creature was everywhere, its presence filling the entire city. We were trapped, and it was going to catch us.
The last thing I remember is the sound of Rachel's scream, echoing through the night air as the creature closed in around us. And then, everything went black.
When I came to, I was lying on the cold, hard floor of a hospital room. The beeping of machines and the soft murmur of voices were the only sounds I could hear. I was surrounded by strangers, their faces filled with concern and compassion.
A nurse leaned forward, her eyes filled with kindness. "Welcome back," she said. "You've been in an accident. You were with a group of coworkers on the 21st floor of a skyscraper when...when something happened."
I tried to sit up, but a wave of pain washed over me, forcing me back onto the bed. "What happened?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The nurse hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. "We're not entirely sure," she said. "But it seems that a...a creature emerged from the building. It was unlike anything we've ever seen before."
I tried to process the information, but my mind was still foggy. The creature? What creature?
As I looked around the room, I realized that something was off. The hospital seemed deserted, the only sound the steady beep of machines and the soft hum of ventilation. And then, I saw it – a small, twisted shape peeking out from under the bed.
It was a shard of glass, but it was also something more. It was a piece of the creature, and it was watching me.
(temp .6, rep pen 1.02)
The cockpit of the spaceship Aurora was a dimly lit room, the only sound the soft hum of the life support systems and the creaks and groans of the ship's metal hull. Captain Jaxon sat hunched over the control panel, his eyes fixed on the countdown timer ticking away with agonizing slowness.
"2 hours, 14 minutes, 42 seconds," the ship's computer, EVE, announced in a calm, robotic voice.
Jaxon's head jerked up, his eyes locking onto the screen displaying the transmission data. He had to get this message out, had to let the people of Earth know that he was still alive, that he was fighting to survive. But the ship's power was dwindling, and he was running out of time.
He took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the weight of his situation. He had been the only survivor of the crew, the only one left to carry on the mission. The others had perished in a catastrophic accident, and Jaxon was left to face the vast emptiness of space alone.
He set his hands flying over the controls, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he entered the final transmission data. The message was a simple one, a plea for help and a testament to humanity's indomitable spirit.
"EVE, send this out on all frequencies," Jaxon ordered, his voice firm despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Transmission acknowledged, Captain," EVE replied, her digital voice a reassuring presence in the darkness. "Signal strength is 3.2 kilowatts. Estimated range: 200 light-years."
Jaxon nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. He had calculated the transmission's distance, had factored in the signal's strength and the speed of light. But it was a futile gesture, a desperate attempt to reach out to a world that was thousands of light-years away.
He took another deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The ship's power was running out, and he knew it. He had rationed his supplies, but they wouldn't last much longer. He would have to make a choice soon, one that would determine his fate.
As the countdown timer ticked closer to zero, Jaxon's thoughts turned to the people he had left behind. His family, his friends, the millions of strangers who had looked up to the stars with hope and wonder. What would they do without him? Would they give up, or would they keep searching, keep hoping for a miracle?
The ship's lights flickered, and Jaxon's heart skipped a beat. He was running out of time. He had to act, had to make a decision.
"EVE, send this message out again," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "This time, add a personal message. Tell them about me, about my family, about the mission."
"Captain, I've already sent the initial transmission," EVE replied, her digital voice tinged with concern. "Adding a personal message will consume additional power. We're running low, Captain."
Jaxon hesitated, his eyes locked onto the countdown timer. He knew what he had to do. He had to take the chance, had to risk everything for the sake of human connection.
"Send it, EVE," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ship's computer sprang to life, sending out the transmission once more. The signal burst forth into the void, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
As the countdown timer ticked down to zero, Jaxon felt a sense of peace wash over him. He had done what he had to do, had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of humanity. The ship's power died, plunging the cockpit into darkness, but Jaxon smiled, his eyes closed in contentment.
He knew that he was not alone, that his message would live on, a testament to the indomitable spirit of humanity. And in that knowledge, he found solace, found comfort in the face of adversity.
The darkness closed in around him, but Jaxon's heart remained bright, a shining star in the void, a reminder that even in the darkest depths of space, there was always hope.
(NOTE: 4 experts used)
I'm standing in the middle of the Canadian National Tower restaurant, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of a Saturday evening. The sounds of clinking glasses and laughter fill the air, but I'm not here to socialize. I'm on the run. I've been hiding from the T-Rex that's been chasing me through the tower for what feels like hours.
I glance around the restaurant, searching for an escape route. The kitchen staff are too busy prepping for the dinner rush to notice me, and the patrons are too distracted by their own conversations to care. I spot a narrow door behind the bar and make a beeline for it. Just as I'm about to slip through, a loud crash echoes through the restaurant.
I turn to see a massive tornado of sharks tearing through the dining area. Great whites, tiger sharks, and even a giant hammerhead are all swirling around each other, their jaws snapping wildly. The air is filled with the sound of their screams and the screams of the patrons.
I sprint towards the door, but it's too late. A shark lunges out of the tornado and tackles me to the ground. I try to fight back, but it's too strong. Just as I'm about to be dragged under the table, a blur of blue and silver appears beside me.
"Need a hand?" a voice asks.
I look up to see the Terminator, his eyes fixed on the shark. He raises his arm, and the shark is frozen in place. "Come on," he says, helping me to my feet.
I stumble out of the way as the Terminator takes down another shark with a swift kick. "Thanks," I gasp. "I owe you one."
The Terminator nods, his expression unchanging. "I'm here to protect you. What's your name?"
"I'm... uh... Emily," I stutter.
The Terminator nods again. "Emily. I'll keep you safe."
Just as we're about to make our escape, a strange blue box materializes out of thin air. The Doctor steps out of it, looking around wildly.
"Blimey! What's all the commotion?" he exclaims.
The Terminator turns to the Doctor. "We've got a shark tornado on our hands. We need to get out of here, now."
The Doctor nods, his eyes lighting up. "Ah, a shark tornado! I love a good challenge. Emily, my dear, come with me!"
I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should trust this strange blue box and its occupant. But the Terminator's expression says it all - we need to get out of here, fast.
"Okay," I say, following the Doctor and the Terminator as they make their way through the restaurant.
The kitchen staff are in chaos, trying to keep up with the tornado of sharks. "What's happening?" one of the chefs cries out.
"It's a shark tornado!" another chef yells back. "We need to seal off the restaurant and evacuate!"
But it's too late. The sharks are everywhere, tearing through the dining area and kitchen. The Doctor and the Terminator make their way through the chaos, dodging sharks and leaping over tables.
I cling to the Doctor's arm, my heart racing with fear. "What's going on?" I ask.
The Doctor grins. "It's a Time Lord thing. I've been tracking a temporal anomaly, and it seems to have caused this... unpleasantness."
The Terminator mutters under his breath. "Unpleasantness? That's an understatement."
As we near the door, the sharks get closer. The Doctor pulls out a sonic screwdriver and starts fiddling with it. "Ah, yes... I think I can fix this. Just give me a minute..."
He starts tapping away at the sonic screwdriver, and suddenly the sharks begin to slow down. They're still there, of course, but they're no longer a threat.
The Doctor turns to us. "There you are, Emily. You're safe now."
I breathe a sigh of relief, but the Terminator's expression remains serious. "We're not out of here yet," he says. "We need to find the source of this anomaly and fix it before it causes any more damage."
The Doctor nods. "Agreed. But for now, let's just get Emily to a safe place. I'll deal with the sharks."
As we make our way through the restaurant, the patrons are starting to realize what's happening. Some of them are screaming, while others are trying to take pictures.
One of the chefs spots us and shouts, "Hey, is that... is that the Doctor?"
The Doctor waves at him. "That's me, old chap. And this is my new friend, the Terminator."
The chef looks at me in awe. "I've always wanted to meet you, Emily. I'm Chef Pierre."
I smile, feeling a little more at ease. "Nice to meet you, Chef Pierre."
As we approach the door, the tornado of sharks is starting to subside. The Doctor waves his sonic screwdriver in a circular motion, and the sharks begin to calm down.
The Terminator nods at the Doctor. "Thanks for your help back there. I owe you one."
The Doctor grins. "No need to thank me, my friend. We make a good team. Now, shall we get Emily to safety?"
I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I'm safe, and I've met two of the most unlikely heroes I've ever seen.
As we step out of the restaurant and into the night air, the Doctor turns to us. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, the temporal anomaly. I think I know what caused it."
The Terminator raises an eyebrow. "Really? Do tell."
The Doctor nods. "It seems that a group of rogue scientists have been playing with time. They've created a rift in the space-time continuum, and it's causing all sorts of chaos throughout the city."
I gasp. "What? That's terrible!"
The Doctor nods. "I know, I know. But we can fix it. We just need to find the source of the anomaly and-"
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the night air. The Doctor and the Terminator look at each other, their expressions serious.
"What was that?" I ask, feeling a sense of dread.
The Doctor's eyes light up. "I think we're in for another adventure."
The Terminator nods. "Time to get to work."
And with that, the unlikely trio sets off into the night, ready to face whatever challenges come their way.