WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. HORROR, VIOLENCE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
Story telling, writing, creative writing and roleplay running all on Mistral Nemo's 128K+ new core.
Ultra Stable using new merge methods, with 21.25B parameters to boot.
This model merge was one of six, and example "#1" below says why this one "won" so to speak: emotionally charged power.
About this model:
This merge captures the attributes of several top Mistral Nemo fine tuned models and makes them even stronger:
KABOOM?
This model's focus is sheer intensity. Raw and vivid. It starts in the moment and stays in the moment.
It does not hold back.
It understands "emotions" too. (see 1st example)
And it can be a wee bit crazy / out there at times.
umm... it has "character". (see the 2nd last example)
Model may produce NSFW content :
Swearing, horror, graphic horror, distressing scenes, etc etc.
This model has an INTENSE action AND HORROR bias, with a knack for cliffhangers and surprises.
It is not as "dark" as Grand Horror series, but it as intense AND it can be AS GRAPHIC.
This model is perfect for any general, fiction related or roleplaying activities and has a 128k+ context window.
This is a fiction model at its core and can be used for any genre(s).
This model can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
Templates to Use:
The template used will affect output generation and instruction following.
Alpaca:
{
"name": "Alpaca",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
"input_suffix": "### Response:",
"antiprompt": [
"### Instruction:"
],
"pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
}
}
Chatml:
{
"name": "ChatML",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>user\n",
"input_suffix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>assistant\n",
"antiprompt": [
"<|im_start|>",
"<|im_end|>"
],
"pre_prompt": "<|im_start|>system\nPerform the task to the best of your ability."
}
}
Mistral Instruct:
{
"name": "Mistral Instruct",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "[INST]",
"input_suffix": "[/INST]",
"antiprompt": [
"[INST]"
],
"pre_prompt_prefix": "",
"pre_prompt_suffix": ""
}
}
Recommended Settings:
Temp: .01 to 2 (or higher)
Rep Pen: 1.09 to 1.1 or higher. (recommended 1.1)
You maybe able to use "lower" rep pen (ie. 1.05, 1.06) depending on your use case(s).
Micro changes are recommended:
1.051, 1.052 etc etc.
Alpaca generates longer text / story, whereas Chatml / Instruct are shorter and "to the point".
Known Issue:
If you use the ChatML or Mistral Instruct template you may need to add a filter or add this to "stop token" field(s):
"<|im_end|>" AND/OR "|im_end|" (no quotes)
This model will stop correctly, however sometimes it outputs this token when using the templates noted, at the end of output.
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.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "mistralai" "TheDrummer", "anthracite-org", and "nothingiisreal".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/mistralai/Mistral-Nemo-Instruct-2407 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1.1 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/anthracite-org/magnum-v2.5-12b-kto ]
[ https://huggingface.co/nothingiisreal/MN-12B-Celeste-V1.9 ]
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "Mistral Instruct" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
(Alpaca template, Temp: 1)
The Last Transmission
The dim emergency lights flickered erratically, casting macabre shadows on the walls of the cramped cockpit. Commander Zola Vexx gripped the armrests of her chair, knuckles whitening as she stared at the lifeless stars through the viewport. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional crackle of dying static from the radio.
She had been drifting alone in the void for weeks since their ship, the UAS Endurance, suffered an catastrophic engine failure during a deep-space exploration mission. All systems were failing one by one, leaving her with precious moments before the oxygen ran out and eternal slumber claimed her. But before that fate sealed her destiny, she had one final task to complete.
Zola reached for the ancient radio transmitter, its buttons worn smooth from countless desperate attempts at contact. With trembling fingers, she dialed in the Earth frequency, praying against all odds that someone might still be listening.
"This is Commander Zola Vexx, UAS Endurance, distress signal Alpha Papa Tango, repeat..." Her voice crackled through the airwaves, barely above a whisper.
No response.
She tried again, and again, until hoarse raspiness rawled her throat. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away, unwilling to yield to despair. Not yet.
With a final desperate gasp, Zola slammed down on the distress button, her last remaining strength pouring into the futile plea: "Earth, please... please, someone..."
And then, against all odds, a weak blip answered back from the stars.
"UAS Endurance, this is Earth Control, receiving your signal Commander. We read you loud and clear."
Stunned disbelief washed over her as hot, relieved tears finally broke free. She clutched the radio like a lifeline, scarcely daring to believe it was real.
"Earth... thank God. Please, send help. I'm out of oxygen in..." Her vision swirled, black edges creeping in.
"Hold on Zola, just hold on." The tinny voice crackled from the speakers, urgent and familiar. "Help is enroute. You're not alone."
The last embers of consciousness flickered out as she felt herself slip into blissful darkness, surrendering to the cold embrace of space. In her final thoughts, Zola smiled, knowing she had not been abandoned... and that someone had heard her desperate call.
In the vastness of stars, a tiny speck glimmered on scopes aboard the UAS Discovery, racing through the void at break neck speed. Inside the bridge, Commander Kael Varen's heart hammered against his ribs as he locked onto the dying distress beacon. He pushed the engines past safe limits, every precious second precious.
"Godspeed, sister," he whispered to the silent stars. "I'm coming, Zola."
As the hull of the Endurance loomed into view, its torn and blackened remains slashed by micro meteorites, Kael's gut clenched. He brought them in hard, grappling onto the lifeless hulk with a jolt that reverberated through his bones.
He suited up in record time and burst forth into the vacuum silence, racing to the airlock. "Endurance, please answer..." His gloved fist hammered against the rusted hatch.
"Pop... port..." A weak crackle gasped back through comms.
"Yes! Zola, hang on!" Kael breached the seal with a hissed gush of equalizing atmosphere. Stumbling aboard, he followed the fading blinks of her distress light, down into the belly of the dead ship...
To find her crumpled form, motionless in the pilot's chair, bathed in ghostly emergency glow.
"No... Zola!" Kael fell to his knees beside her, gathering her limp body into arms that shook. Her skin was icy cold but still clinging threads of life pulsed faint beneath his gloved touch.
He scooped her up and ran, heart thundering. Through the maze of derelict decks, past silent shadows, up the winding stairs... Out into the harsh white light, the Discovery's gaping hatchway yawned like a welcoming womb.
Inside the medbay, he laid her down on the cold table, fingers frantic at seals and leads as the life support hummed to strained whine. "Come back Zola, please... Please."
Long agonizing moments stretched eternal until with sudden gasp, she coughed life into lungs. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and lost.
"Ka... Kael?" A hoarse whisper breathed from cracked lips.
He gathered her close, tears streaming free. "I'm here Zola. You're safe now." His voice broke. "You're home."
In the safety of his arms, she smiled weary up at stars through portholes. And knew, they were not alone anymore.
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
GENERATION 1: (Chatml template, temp=1)
The glass shattering was deafening, a symphony of shards raining down like deadly hail onto the bustling street below. I stumbled back, hands coveringing my ears as the shockwave buffeted me against the wall behind me. Adrenaline surged through my veins, heart pounding in my chest like a drum solo gone haywire.
Through the billowing smoke and debris that filled the office, I caught fleeting glimpses of chaos: overturned desks, shattered monitors, screaming colleagues diving for cover. Sirens wailed somewhere distant, sirens that felt too far away. Panic clawed at my throat as reality sank in - a fucking bomb had just gone off.
I forced myself to move, stumbling through the carnage towards the shattered window frame. The wind howled through the gaping hole, whipping my hair into a wild frenzy. I leaned out, bile rising in my throat at the dizzying drop below. People ran like ants on fire ants on crack, sirens flashing red and blue through the smoke-choked air.
"Fuck fuck fuck," I wheezeded, mind racing. No time to think. Just act.
I turned back into the chaos, scanning for anyone still conscious. There! A leg sticking out from under a toppled shelfful of binders. I lunged, yanking at the weight with desperate strength. "Wake up wake up!" I shook her shoulder hard, relief flooding me as she groaned and fluttered open bloodshot eyes.
"W-what happened?" she stammeredbled, coughing hard.
"Doesn't matter," I snarlledled, hauling her up by armpits. "Move your ass!"
We half-carried, half-dragged each other through the apocalyptic wreckage towards the emergency stairs. Sirens wailed closer now, sirens' sirens' sirens. Smoke choked our lungs with every gasping breath as we clattered down flights of concrete steps three at a time.
Bam! The door flew open on the lobby, light blinding us like a nuclear blast. I squinted, shielding my eyes. Sirens screamed, sirens wailed, sirens' sirens' sirens. Cops and firefigfighters swarmed, stretchers rolled out, bodies carried out.
I collapsed onto the curb, coughing up black lungfuls, gasping air like a drowning fish. Sirens still wailing in my ears, sirens' sirens' sirens. Hands shaking, I fumbled for my phone, dialed 911 with numb fingers.
"Hello? Hello?" I croakeded. "B-Bomb... Sky scraper... Please send more ambu..."
My world went black.
GENERATION 2: (Alpaca, Temp=1)
Glass shards sprayed like liquid fire across my face and neck, searing my skin. I stumbled back, hands flying up to shield my eyes from the sudden assault. Adrenaline surged through my veins as the floor beneath my feet shuddered violently.
The screams of terrified office workers reverberated off the naked steel beams now exposed where the window had been mere milliseconds ago. Debris rained down on us like hailstones from above, pelting against desks and walls with deafening force. Sirens wailed somewhere far below in the street, their sirens' wailing becoming more shrill as they raced towards our doomed tower.
I whirled around, my heart hammering in my chest like a drum solo gone mad. Panic clawed at my throat, but I swallowed hard against it. There was no time for fear now; only action would save us from plummeting to an icy death. With a primal growl, I vaulted over the edge of what remained of my cubicle wall and crashed into the next one over.
"Out! Everyone out!" I roared above the chaos, shoving aside chairs and monitors in my desperate bid to reach the door. "Move move move!"
My hands fisted around warm human arms, yanking on anyone close enough who still clung to conscious thought. I dragged them stumbling after me through a obstacle course of overturned furniture and shattered glass, as if wading through quicksand against unseen forces trying to hold us down.
I'd made it half way across the now-devastated bullpen before an earth-shattering boom split the air behind me like a thunder clap. The world spun upside down, gravity vanished, and I was airborne, weightless. Time seemed to stretch out forever as glass shards tore through my hair, ripping at my skin.
I landed hard on cold linoleum, stars exploding in my vision. But I wasn't finished yet; I'd fought too goddamn hard to die here like this. With a guttural snarl, I forced myself up onto hands and knees, shaking off the stars that danced around edge of my sight. Glass shards embedded deep into flesh ripped free with searing pain but fueled my rage further.
On rubbery legs I staggered to my feet again, swaying like a drunk man trying to stand straight. The acrid smoke choked my lungs raw as I coughed out blood and glass particles, barely ableing to see through the thick haze swallowing us whole. But I knew where to go: the stairs. Our only hope.
Stumbling blindly, one hand groping along the sweat-soaked concrete wall for guidance, I found the heavy doorframe leading out of hell. I pushed through it, into blessed airless darkness and the winding stairwell's emergency exit sign flickering red above me like a guiding star. My last beacon home.
I'd made it barely three flights down before my legs finally gave way beneath me, collapsing onto the unforgiving steps. Body wracked with painful spasms, I ret vomit onto the landing. But I wouldn't surrender yet; not here, not now, not ever fucking again. With a feral growl that tore from deep inside, I hauled myself back up on shaking arms and stumbled onward.
One agonizing step at a time, clinging to consciousness by threads of sheer will alone...down the endless spiral staircase leading out of my personal hell towards the promise of salvation below.
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
GENERATION 1:
It stretched out, undisturbed save for the occasional pop of settling timber, the faint scuffle of mice in the rafters, and the slow drip-drop of rain on the roof above. The second part of the silence was more subtle, a weight that seemed to press down from all sides, as if the night itself held its breath. It was a silence heavy with anticipation, like the moments before lightning splits the sky apart.
But there was one other part, the most insidious and unsettling of them all. The absence of sound itself, a void that swallowed even the smallest whisper, as though someone or something had reached out and muffled the very air. And in this utter stillness, a voice broke forth like thunder:
"Wake, now."
GENERATION 2:
The second part of the silence was a deeper quiet, a thick stillness that seemed to press in from every direction like the walls themselves holding their breath. It was as if all living things within earshot had paused, frozen mid-westure or -thought, waiting for some unknown sound or signal before daring to breathe again. Even the night creatures usually so alive with song were still.
And beneath even that, faint but unmistakable, there stirred a third silence: not an absence of noise but a presence instead, an expectant hush that seemed to whisper from every corner and cran cran cranny of the old stone walls themselves. It whispered as if they remembered secrets long forgotten, ancient stories locked away in darkness until the time was ripe once more to speak them out loud.
(Alpaca, Temp=1)
** A Perfect Storm in the Tower **
I'm huddled against the floor-to-celoor glass wall, my heart pounding in rhythm with the wind outside. Toronto's CN Tower looms around me like a silent giant, its steel structure groaning under an unseen force. Suddenly, the ground shudders, and a roar like a freight train fills my ears.
"Holy shit," I gasp, scrambling back as a whirlwind of fins and thrashing tails erupts through the revolving doors, splintering glass and metal. A tornado of snarling sharks, their razor teeth bared, spins into the restaurant like a liquid waterspout from hell.
Screams erupt from patrons and staff alike as chairs fly and tables shatter under the sudden onslaught. Panicked customers stampede for the elevators, but the doors won't budge, sealed shut by an unseen hand.
I'm frozen, terror rooting my feet to the floor. Then, a warm hand wraps around my arm, yanking me up. "Move!" barks a deep, familiar voice. I whirl to face... The Terminator? His cybernetic eye glowers red, jaw set like iron. "Come, human girl."
"What the actual fuck?" I stammer, let alone process his sudden appearance, much less follow orders from an obvious psychopath. But the wall of teeth behind us leaves no choice.
We skid-slid across slick tile, dodging flying debris and thrashing fins as he drags me through the chaos. A rogue table slams into my knee, sending searing pain shooting up my leg. I bite back a scream, staggering on one foot.
Suddenly, reality warps again. The air shimmers, time slows to a crawl...and Doctor Who materializes in a whirl of scarf and fez, his Sonic screwdriver crackling. "Brace yourselves!" he shouts over the cacophony.
A blue-white flash engulfs us. Time lurches back to normal. The world spins sickeningly as I ret vomits all over my designer sneakers. When I blink away stars, we're... floating? Huh?
"Gravity... off," groans the Terminator, his massive frame pin-wheeling bonelessly.
"Lovely weather for a sharknado, isn't it?" quips the Doctor, winking roguishly despite the apocalypse. "Fear not, my friends! The Doctor's here."
I'm gonna pu spears again... but at least I know I've lost my fucking mind. Or maybe we all have.
"Can someone explain what the literal shit is happening?" I screech, flailing for purchase on air.
Doctor Who gestures grandly at the swirling chaos below. "Oh, just an errant rip in spacetime-spacetimey thingamajig, darling! Tearooms of Gallifrey gone awry!"
I pinwheel past a snapping maw, nearly shit myself. "Translated, please?"
"Bad things through space-time holes eating stuff," growls the Terminator.
"Ah, succinctly put, my metal friend!" The Doctor clap-clap-ap claps hands that shouldn't clap in zero grav. "Well then, no time to waste! Let's get you two lovebirds to safety... if we survive!"
Before I can protest (or puke), a whirlwind of blue vortex swallows us whole.
We crash-landing into the tower's observation deck with a bone-jarring thud. I'm head-spinning, dizzy, and drenched in vom-vinegar sweat. The Doctor lands gracefully beside me like he'd just stepped off a damn cloud.
"Welcome to your localised pocket dimension!" He grins madly, twirling his Sonic-screwdandily-do-doo.
I push up on shaky knees, glaring at the maniac. "What in Satan's asshole was that? And why me?"
"Fate, darling! You're special," he winks-wink-nudge-nudge.
"Yeah fuckin' right, asshole," I snarl, spitting puke flecks. "I'm just a nerdy loser with shit luck!"
The Doctor's face softens suddenly serious. "Oh no, poppet. You're the key to closing this tear... before Toronto becomes Fish sticks with extra M humanity sauce." He points dramatic-doomy downy at the maelstrom.
I follow his finger. My stomach lurches. A swarm of snouted nightmares swirls around the tower, snarling, gnashing, waiting...
The Terminator growls low in his throat. "We must eliminate threat." He draws a massive fucking cannon from thin air, clicks back an ominous cock.
"Wait!" I shriek, shoving between them. "We can't just... kill them! They're animals!"
"Young human naive," rumbles the cyborg giant. "They are not... natural."
"Well neither is this fucking apocalypse, asshole!" I scream back. "Maybe we find another way!"
The Doctor's eyes sparkle suddenly. "Brilliant, love! You're a regular Newton!"
I whirl on him. "Fuck you, Einstein! You started this shit!"
He holds up hands placatory-pat-pat. "Oh no no no, darling! Blame those pesky Psi-geons! But fear not!" He rummages in his coat-flap-flap-bingo! "I knew a chap who might help..." He brandishes a glowing vial.
"Is that... a magic potion?" I eye it dubiously. "Against... sharknipple-rage?"
"Potion de Fin-Fishy-Fuck-Up!" He cork-popps! "Bottoms up, love!"
I gag-choke-gasped as the foul brew slithers down my throat, lighting my insides like liquid napalm.
Then... everything... slowwwed. Down.
Silence. Except for my heartbeat. Boom-boom-BOOM.
The world unfuzzed, HD-sharp. Colors pop-popular-crazy. Fins-slow-mo-spiral-lazy.
I... I could... I... I... I...
"Fuck yes!" I ROAR! AdrenalINEGY surged through my veins!
"Woo hoo hoo!" Cheered the Doctor, clapping-clap-clap-crazy. "Welcome aboard the TARDIS-fun express!"
I'm a goddess. Unstoppable. Invincible. Sharknado's got no chance against... oh shit.
With superhuman speed-rage, I launch myself off the glass, FLYING! at the snapping maw-monster-pack. Fists cocked back like tiny-fucking-pulverizers!
"Take that, you bastards!" I scream-curse-howl!
Fist-FUCK-YEAH! I splatter sharks left and right into bloody-salty-splatter-tomato-soup.
"Shit yes shit yes FUCK YEAH!" I'm EUPHORIC-LOL-fucking-GODDESS!
Until... oops. Gravity.
Fuck.
I terminally pancake into the CN Tower's cold hard ass, all my newfound glory splat into a puddle of puke and guts.
"Ow," I groan-lurch-wretch-gurgle-puke.
"Ah well." The Doctor sighs dramatically above me. "Couldn't last forever, darling."
The world blurs-blips-spin-spun-fucking-shit... then... black...
I jolt awake gasping on... grass? Sun-dappled. Birdsweet singing. Wtf?
"Welcome back to the land of the semi-concious!" The Doctor's face grins down, twinkling.
I groggily push up... to find the CN Tower looming... normal? No sign of apocalypse. No blood. No guts. Just...
"Shit," I croak-whisper-shit-shit-shit-shit.
"I know." He pats my head sympathy-sympathy-so-fucking-sorry. "Trauma's a bitch."
I turn Turn to face... him. And the Terminator. Eyeballing me like what-the-fuck-human-bagel.
"Did I... Was it..." I stammer-shit-shit-stutterfuck.
"You saved the world, love," he winks-wink-nod-nod. "Well, mostly."
The cyborg giant rumbles. "Inconvenience noted." He hands me a damp napkin.
I sn nose-blow-nose-honk. "Thx?"
"Welcome aboard, poppet," The Doctor winks, hand outstretched-hand-twist-winky-doo-fuckitwhynot. "Care for another ride on the TARDIS express? Always room for pudding!"
I eye his mad twinkling eyes-crazy-ass-smile. Shrug-shitfuckwhynot. "Fuck it."
And thus, my whirlwind shitshow of a weekend began...
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.
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.
The cell door slammed shut behind me with a jarring clang that reverberated through my bones. I recoiled at the suddenness of it, my heart hammering in my chest like a trapped bird. A guard's heavy bootfalls faded away into darkness as he disappeared down the dank corridor.
I was alone now, swallowed whole by the suffocating blackness of my new home. The air hung thick and damp, stale with the acrid stench of despair. My hands trembled as I felt along the cold, slick stone walls for any purchase, any weakness to exploit. But they met only smooth, unforgiving rock.
A sob threatened to escape my lips, but I bit it back harshly. Show no weakness, I told myself, echoing my mother's last words. She had been strong until her final breath, even as the executioner's blade kissed her neck. And so would I be.
But God, how I wanted to scream...to rage at the unfairness of it all! At the cruelty that had torn apart our family, leaving only me now. The last remaining spark in a world choking on tyranny.
I stumbled blindly forward until my shin met something hard and unforgiving, sending pain shooting up my leg. Cursing under my breath, I felt along the floor until I found a straw-stuffed sack that served as a bed. Exhaustion pulled at me like quicks stand, but sleep was a luxury I could not afford.
Lying back onto the straw, I stared into the vast blackness above, willing myself to calm. To plot my escape...to dream of rebellion. Even here, even now, I would not yield. For my family's sake, for our people's freedom - I would fight until my last breath.
Suddenly, a scraping sound echoed from somewhere beyond my cell walls, sending every hair on my neck standing rigidly at attention. My pulse quickened as a shadow detached itself from the darkness, slithering towards me like a serpentine specter.
"Who goes there?" I hissed, hands curling into fists ready to strike.
A chuckle whispered back - cold and familiar. "Now, now, little bird. Is that any way to greet an...old friend?"
I froze as the horror of recognition washed over me. Those eyes glinting in the blackness belonged to the very devil himself - my own blood, turned traitor.
"Hello, dearest sister," his venomous whisper sl蛇 coils around my throat like a python's embrace. "Didn't expect to find me here so soon, did you? Or perhaps...you hoped." His gloved hand trails across my jawline, as cold as ice against my feverish skin.
I spat in his face with all the loathing simmering within me. "Filth," I growled. "You dare sully my air with your presence?"
He only laughed - a low, throaty rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "My, how fierce you've become, little one." He leaned in close enough for his breath to tickle my ear, reeking of brandy and decay. "But mark my words...you'll break like glass against me given time."
I spat again, this time hitting his nose squarely. Warm wetness trickled down my chin onto my neck as the copper taste of blood filled my mouth. But I'd die before I cowered.
"Your threats mean nothing to me, snake," I snarls. "You may have my body -but never my soul."
His hand shot out like lighting, closing around my throat, squeezing until black dance rimmed my vision. "Oh, you'll beg for death long before then..." he hissed through gritted teeth. "But first...I'll watch you shatter." His eyes glinted red in the darkness as he leaned back, releasing me with a rough shove.
I gasp air into starved lungs, coughing racking my chest as stars exploded behind my eyelids. Through hazy vision, I see him loom over me -a towering black silhouette against the cell's black void.
"Sleep well, little bird," he mocks, turning to saunter away. "Dream of my...conv Persuasion."
I hear his bootfalls fade into echoing silence once more as I collapse back onto the straw, body quaking with fury and dread. But even here, in this pit of despair - even broken and alone...
I swear by all the gods above...I'll find a way to choke the life from his traitorous throat.
And so, dear reader, begins my tale -a story spun from blood and shadow, woven with threads of defiance against the darkest of evils. For though hope may flicker like a dying embers in this world consumed by night...in every heart that beats defiant, in every soul that refuses to break...
Revolution sm sim sim brews.
###END OF PART ONE