Update README.md

README.md

@@ -50,20 +50,28 @@ Yes... but multiplied by each merge(s), and compression(s): 29 billion times.
 <B>PROSE CRAZY:</B>
 
 This model is specifically designed for deep, creative prose with the target goal of getting the model to use stronger 
-and more coherrent levels of detail at all levels as well as expand word choice too without 
+and more coherent levels of detail at all levels as well as expand word choice too without 
 have to "state" this in prompts or at the prompt level or system role level. 
 
 This is version 2 of 3 current versions, with sub-versions as well.
 
-This is also a merge between the Ultra Quality Psyonic-Cetacean 20B with the 13B Mythomax model
-which ends up at 29 Billion parameters at 90 layers (813 Tensors @ F32).
+This version has a slight change in the merge formula that changes up creativity.
+
+This version is slightly more stable than the first edition (link below) with the "standard"
+version of this model focused more on details.
+
+However the "Neo" version of this model is still creatively out there, and tends to rant
+and rave with sometimes a "normal" measure and sometime well... extreme. You can see this in the examples.
+
+This model is a merge between the Ultra Quality Psyonic-Cetacean 20B with the 13B Mythomax model
+which ends up at 29 Billion parameters at 92 layers (837 Tensors @ F32).
 
 For reference a 70B model is typically 120 layers, and Command-R 01 35B is 40 layers (but very dense layers).
 
 These models are a "pass-through" merges, meaning that all the unique qualities of all models is preserved in full,
 no overwriting or merging of the parameters, weights and so on.
 
-Although this model can be used for many purposes, it is primaryly for creative prose - any function related to this
+Although this model can be used for many purposes, it is primarily for creative prose - any function related to this
 including plot generation, story generation, scene generation, scene continue (sample provided, used as a starting point),
 and just about anything related to fictional writing.
 
@@ -90,6 +98,10 @@ punching out it's "craziness" to the extreme with a slight dose of "reality" (tr
 
 See prose examples below.
 
+<B>For Edition 1 of "Prose Crazy" (with Standard, Neo, and Neo X Quant Alpha) go to:</B>
+
+[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Psyonic-Cetacean-MythoMax-Prose-Crazy-Ultra-Quality-29B-GGUF ]
+
 <b>Optional Enhancement:</B>
 
 The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
@@ -309,7 +321,13 @@ Like the other examples this is generation is using Temp=0 and min parameters.
 
 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</i>
 
+perfectly intact, unbroken and oppressive in its completeness.
+
+The second part of the silence was a deeper one, like the stillness that settles over a pond before a stone skips across its surface, sending ripples outward in ever-widening circles. Here, within the hearts and minds of those who should have been sleeping in their rooms above, similar ripples lay dormant, waiting for the smallest disturbance to bring them to life.
 
+And then there was a third part of the silence, so fine-tuned and delicate that only those with the keenest of ears might have caught its whisper: the anticipation humming in the air like a tautened string, vibrating with unspoken possibilities and unfulfilled desires.
+
+It was this third part of the silence that hung thickest in the common room of the Waystone Inn, palpable enough to be cut through with a well-honed blade or shattered like fine china by even the slightest movement, the merest sound...
 
 <b>"Enhanced"</b>
 
@@ -317,6 +335,10 @@ The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lack
 
 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</i>
 
+The Waystone Inn lay in a silence that was not of this world, but one that seemed to have its own ethereal essence. It was a silence that enveloped everything within its unyielding embrace, suffocating even the faintest of whispers and the softest of footsteps.
+
+The most apparent part of this silence was a hollow void, an empty husk left behind after something once vibrant and alive had been methodically stripped away until there was nothing left but the echoes of what once was. If there had been even the slightest of breezes, it would have brushed past the ancient oak doors like a spectral hand, creaking them ever so slightly on their rusted hinges before drifting through the dimly lit common room, stirring up dust motes that danced listlessly in the flickering light cast by the dying hearth. If there had been even a single voice to break the oppressive stillness, any voice at all, it would have reverberated off the rough-hewn timbers like an ethereal lament, echoing and bouncing off every unseen corner of the ancient inn until it became impossible to discern where the sound had truly begun or if indeed, it had ever truly ended. If there had been even the softest of strings plucked on a long-forgotten instrument, just the merest hint of a melody carried on the breath of a breeze that no longer blew...but no, of course there was none of these things. And so, the silence remained.
 
+But if one were to listen very closely, so very intently that even their own heartbeat and each shallow, ragged breath seemed to grow as loud as a thunderstorm outside the thickness of stone walls, then perhaps, just perhaps, they might have thought they could discern...