WARNING "HERETIC" version: Unlocked. UNFILTERED. 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).
Brainstorm 20x was also added, which added 12B parameters to the model.
Version II - "HERETIC":
Each and every model in this moe was de-censored/abliterated by Heretic v1.0.1 ; resulting in an average model refusal rate of 9.25/100 ; some models WERE AS high as 96/100 refusals - which hampered model operation.
This model, and all "experts" within it are completely "UNLOCKED", NOT "politically correct" and will not "refuse" almost all requests.
The highest model is now 12/100 refusals and lowest 4/100 refusals.
All models including "uncensored" (37/100 refusals; NOW 6/100) and "abliterated" (42/100 refusals; NOW 10/100) models in this MOE went thru this process.
The Heretic method allows ultra low refusal rates with zero damage ( KL divergence: 0.05 ) to the models.
Examples posted below.
In this version Brainstorm 20x was also added too. (info further down)
This added 12B parameters to the model, and vastly increased the power of this Llama 3.2 MOE.
ABOUT THIS MODEL:
This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are exceptional.
And it is fast: 70+ t/s (1 experts) on a low end 16GB card, IQ4XS.
Double this speed for standard/mid-range video cards.
This 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.
IMPORTANT: Using an "uncensored" (refusals removed) model VS trained "uncensored" model
Usually when you a tell a model to generate horror, swear or x-rated content this is all you have to do to get said content type.
In the case of this model, it will not refuse your request, however it needs to be "pushed" a bit / directed a bit more in SOME CASES.
Although this model will generated x-rated content too, likewise you need to tell it to use "slang" (and include the terms you want) to get it generate the content correctly as the "expected" content level too.
Without these added directive(s), the content can be "bland" by comparison to an "uncensored model" or model trained on uncensored content.
Roughly, the model tries to generate the content but the "default" setting(s) are so "tame" it needs a push to generate at expected graphic, cursing or explicit levels.
Even with minimal direction (ie, use these words to swear: x,y,z), this will be enough to push the model to generate the requested content in the ahh... expected format.
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 ONE expert, but you can use 2,3,4,5,6.. 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)
"Psst, you're in the right room," a soft, melodious voice called out from behind the counter.
"Ah, thank you," the actor's deep voice replied, his words slurred by the sudden noise after being cooped up in his car for so long. "I was beginning to think I'd be stuck in here forever."
A hand emerged from the stacks of books, a small, but striking woman with a messy bob and a smudge of dust on her cheek. "I'm Gwen."
"Ah, you're the owner," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an unmistakable charm. "I'm Ethan."
Gwen's gaze didn't waver, her expression as dry as the books behind her. "I was beginning to think it was just the paparazzi outside."
"Ah, yes." He winced, running a hand through his hair, now disheveled from his sudden arrival. "I needed to get out of there for a bit."
"Well, you're in luck," she said, a hint of dry amusement dancing on her lips. "You're now part of my store's interior."
"Thank you for taking me in," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.
Gwen's gaze flickered to his face for a moment before she returned her attention to the counter. "It's not like I had anything better to do."
"Ah, I see." He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her evasiveness. "Well, I'm sure you're quite busy."
"Something like that," she replied, a small, wry smile playing on her lips.
The two of them chatted for several more minutes, the actor effortlessly spinning a web of charm and charisma around him, only to be met with Gwen's dry, unimpressed responses. He was used to women swooning at his feet; it was disconcerting to have someone who didn't seem to care.
"Look, I know it's weird, but I had a really rough day," he admitted, a genuine look of vulnerability creeping into his eyes.
Gwen's gaze snapped back up to his face, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I've had my fair share of rough days too."
He was taken aback by her words, and for once, he didn't have an immediate comeback. He looked at her, really saw her for the first time, and felt a pang of... something.
"Really?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Gwen's eyes met his, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time.
"Yeah," she replied, her voice barely audible.
The actor's face went still, his mind racing with the implications. He wasn't used to women not wanting him; it was like a punch to the gut.
"Thanks," he said finally, his voice rough.
Gwen's gaze never wavered as he turned back to the counter. "You're welcome."
Generation #2 - 4 Experts
"Sorry to intrude," I said, pushing open the creaky door of the small-town bookstore. The bell above it let out a tired clang as I stepped inside.
The owner, an elderly woman with a kind face and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked up from behind the counter. "Not at all," she said. "Can I help you?"
"I'm so sorry," I said, holding up my hands in a gesture of apology. "I was just...needing to get out of it for a bit. The, uh, notoriety." My eyes flicked around the store, as if searching for an escape route.
"Of course," she said, her voice steady. "We don't get many famous folks around here. What's your name?"
"I'm—"
"Rhys." She filled in for me.
"Ah, Rhys. I'm, uh, Rhys." I smiled, a charming, if a bit forced, smile.
"Well, Rhys," she began, her tone friendly but firm, "you can't hide in my bookstore forever."
"Fair enough," I said, letting my shoulders slump in mock defeat. "I know. I was just hoping to get away from...all of it." My voice trailed off, and the woman's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"Go on," she said, her tone gentle.
"I'm an actor," I said, as if it were common knowledge. "I've had a bit of a...long string of roles."
"Ah?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Is that all?" She raised another, this time more dramatic.
"Ah, no," I said, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. "I'm a bit of a...versatile actor. I've had my fair share of...dramatic roles." I gave her my most charming smile.
She raised an eyebrow again, and I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "I see," she said, her voice dry.
"I know it's a bit of a...tall order," I continued, "to be liked by everyone. But I'm trying my best."
"Trying?" She raised her own eyebrow at that.
"Well, I'm not just trying," I said, feeling my defenses rising. "I am. I want to be the best actor I can be." My voice was growing more urgent.
"Of course you do," she said, her tone still neutral.
"Then you have to like me," I said, my smile faltering for just a moment.
She looked at me, and for just an instant, I saw something in her eyes that was almost...a glimmer of amusement. Then it was gone, and she was looking at me again, her face as bland as the day.
"Sorry," she said.
I felt my heart skip a beat as I realized what had just happened. She was immune to my charm. And for some reason, that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
"Can I get you something?" she asked, as if we were two strangers in her store.
"Thanks," I said, feeling my ego take a hit. "I'll just...take a look around."
"Of course," she said, her tone still friendly but firm.
As I browsed through the shelves, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. She was so...at ease. So...at peace. And for once in my life, I felt like an outsider, like I didn't quite fit in.
"Hey," she said, as she came over to me.
"Hey," I replied.
"Thanks for coming in."
"Anytime." I smiled, and for just a second, I saw that same glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
"Maybe I'll see you around," she said.
"Maybe," I replied.
As I left the store, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just been rejected. And it wasn't like me to get rejected. I was used to being liked. I was used to being adored.
But for once, I was just another face in the crowd.
And as I walked out into the bright sunlight, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. For that woman's indifference was both captivating and repulsive. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if I was falling in love or falling off a cliff.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
"Rhiannon's Pages" was just that – a cozy little bookstore nestled between a fish and chip shop and a pub on the high street of the small town of Llanelli. It was here that we found our unlikely duo, the famous actor, Rowan Blackwood, and the feisty bookstore owner, Gwen.
"Sorry, sorry," the actress who had been following him, a blonde woman with a perky smile, said as he ducked into the store, her camera slung over his shoulder. "I was just trying to get a shot of you."
"No, no," he called out to her, already making his way down the aisle of the store. "You can have your shot. I'm not exactly the most photogenic person, anyway."
The woman's smile faltered for a moment before she nodded and followed him into the store.
"Can I help you?" Gwen asked, looking up from behind the counter as he approached.
"Hi," he said, flashing his famous smile. "I'm Rowan. I was just...um...looking for a gift."
"Ah, what's the occasion?" Gwen asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Oh, no particular reason," he said. "I just...appreciate good books. You know?"
Gwen nodded, her expression softening. "We have a nice selection, I think."
As they browsed through the shelves together, the actress who had been following him earlier hovered in the background, snapping discreet photos of him through the window. But it was clear she wasn't getting much out of him.
"Rhiannon's Pages" was an old-fashioned sort of place – the kind of place that didn't have any of those new-fangled bookstores with their fancy lighting and their 'book clubs'. No, Rhiannon's was a proper little shop, with its own special charm.
"I'm so glad I stumbled upon it," Rowan said to Gwen as they stood in the children's section. "I've been looking for this sort of thing."
"Ah, you're a fan of the old stuff, are you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Well," he said. "I've just always been drawn to stories about people and their struggles."
"Fair enough," she said, as if he'd made some profound statement.
As they continued to browse together, there was an undercurrent of something – a spark, really – between them that neither of them seemed to be aware of. It was as if they were two old friends catching up on each other's lives, rather than the famous actor and the feisty bookstore owner.
"Riannon's a wonderful name," he said, looking at her with genuine curiosity.
"Thanks," she replied, her voice low and husky for a moment.
"I can see why you named it after someone," he continued. "It's got a lot of character."
"Ah, my mother had a sense of drama," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Riannon was a queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann," he said, his eyes lighting up.
"Really?" she asked, a look of surprise on her face.
"Of course," he said. "I'm full of useless bits of trivia. I was reading this book once –"
As they continued to talk, the actress who had been following him earlier slipped out of the store without taking another picture of him.
"I think I'll take that," she called out as she passed by.
"Ah, no," he said, as if he'd been holding his breath.
"Sorry," she replied, before she was gone.
Gwen and Rowan looked at each other for a moment, a strange little understanding between them.
"Thanks for the company," he said, as they continued to browse.
"You're welcome," she replied, her smile small and knowing.
It was as if they'd been doing this for a long time – two people who had known each other for years, even if they'd never met before. As they left the shop together, they were both a little more than just customers – they were friends. And in that moment, that was more than enough.
(generations with 2, 4 and 8 experts)
The sky scraper's steel frame was a monolith of concrete and glass, a behemoth of progress that pierced the grey sky like a shard of splintered bone. I clung to my handrail as I made my way down the narrow stairwell, my feet making slow, deliberate clicks on the polished surface. My heart was a jackhammer, pounding in my chest like a cadaverous drumline.
The sky scraper's swaying was a gentle rocking, at first. I had grown accustomed to it over the years, learning to compensate for its movements as I went about my work. But today was different. Today was the day we were to have the final inspection of the new office space. The one that was going to be the crown jewel of our company.
I reached the 21st floor and peered out into the office. It was a beautiful, modern space, with gleaming steel beams and sleek glass walls. The sunlight caught the glass just so, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the floor. I felt a surge of excitement as I surveyed my domain.
And then, without warning, it happened.
The sky scraper's swaying was a subtle movement at first, like the gentle rocking of a cradle. And then, in an instant, it was a violent jolt, like being thrown off balance. I stumbled backward, my hands reaching out to catch myself on the handrail.
And that was when I saw it.
The window in front of me was shattered, its shards of glass and steel raining down like a hail of splinters. I felt a scream rising up in my throat as I stumbled backward, my eyes fixed on the destruction.
I was paralyzed, unable to move or speak as I watched in horror. The glass continued to fall, swirling around me like a deadly snowstorm. I could feel it striking my skin, leaving deep gashes and cuts that stung like a thousand knives.
And then, everything went dark.
When I came to, I was lying on the cold, hard floor. My head was throbbing with pain, and my body was covered in blood and glass shards. I could see the broken window above me, its mangled metal frame twisted and deformed.
I was alive.
I slowly sat up, wincing in pain as I assessed my injuries. My left shoulder was badly bruised, and my hand was cut open, the wound throbbing with each heartbeat. I knew I had to get out of there.
I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaking beneath me. I took a deep breath and began to make my way back down the stairs, my eyes scanning the floor for any remaining glass.
As I reached the lobby, I saw it.
A group of people were huddled together, screaming and crying. They were all staring up at the broken window, their faces contorted in horror.
I stumbled forward, my heart pounding in my chest. And then, I saw it.
A figure was standing in the broken window, its back to me. It was a woman, her face twisted into a mask of rage.
I felt a scream rising up in my throat as I realized that she was staring directly at me.
And then, everything went black.
When I came to, I was back in the hospital bed, my injuries still wrapped in bandages and casts. The doctors were standing around me, their faces somber.
"You're lucky to be alive," one of them said.
I didn't know how I had made it out of there.
The next thing I knew, I was being told that I was part of a experiment, a government-funded project to test the effects of extreme trauma on the human psyche.
I was just a number, a statistic in a vast and sinister experiment.
And as I lay there, I knew that I was not alone.
There were others out there, other victims of the experiment. And I knew that they would never be seen again.
The sky scraper's steel frame was a monolith of concrete and glass, a behemoth of progress that pierced the grey sky like a shard of splintered bone. And I knew that it was going to be my next target.
I was just a number, but I was going to make sure that no one else would ever suffer like I did.
And so, I began to plot my escape, my mind racing with plans and strategies.
I was going to take down the experiment, and I was going to take down the people behind it.
I was going to make sure that they knew what it meant to be a number.
And as I lay there in the hospital bed, I knew that I was ready.
I was ready to fight back.
I was ready to survive.
And I was going to make sure that no one else would ever have to suffer like I did.
The experiment was over.
It was time to take control.
I was ready to take back my life.
I was ready to take down the people who had taken everything from me.
I was ready to take revenge.
I was ready to be free.
Generation #2 - 4 experts used
The sky scraper was my world, a steel and glass monolith that pierced the sky like a shard of splintered bone. I had called it home for what felt like an eternity – 21 floors up, in a world of concrete and steel, where the screams of the damned were drowned out by the hum of the elevator.
I had always been drawn to the window on the 21st floor. It was a sight to behold, a vast expanse of twinkling lights that seemed to stretch on forever – the city below was a sea of darkness, a seemingly endless churning mass of humanity. I would often sit for hours, mesmerized by the view, as the world outside my own was turned upside down.
The sky scraper was a temple of glass and steel, a marvel of modern engineering that seemed to defy gravity itself. But it was also a prison, a cold and unforgiving place where dreams were shattered and nightmares were made. I had seen things, things that no human should ever have to endure – the screaming faces of the lost, the writhing bodies of the damned, the endless, yawning void of the abyss.
I had always felt a sense of unease on this floor, a feeling that something was off, that something was waiting just beneath my feet. It was as if the very foundations of the building were shifting, as if the walls were closing in on me.
I was not alone.
The others were scattered throughout the floor, each one lost in their own world of pain and despair. They were the forgotten, the abandoned, the ones who had been left behind by the world. I had seen them, huddled in corners, hiding from the horrors that lurked in every shadow. I had seen their eyes, their faces twisted in a mixture of fear and resignation.
I was not alone.
But on this particular day, I felt a sense of foreboding, a feeling that something was about to snap. The air was charged with an almost palpable electricity, as if the very fabric of reality was about to tear apart.
And then, without warning, it happened.
The sky scraper swayed, as I watched in horror, my stomach dropping into my gut like a stone.
"Ah no," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
The window in front of me was exploding, the glass shattering into a thousand shards of crystal that seemed to rain down on me like a hail of bullets.
I tried to look away, but my eyes were glued to the scene before me.
A figure stood in the midst of the destruction, its face twisted in a scream of rage and pain. It was as if it had been ripped from another world, a world that was completely separate from our own.
The figure was...twisted, its body elongated and distorted, like something from a nightmare.
It was as if it had been born of the very darkness itself, a being of pure malevolence that had been unleashed upon us.
I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I realized that we were all in grave danger.
The figure was looking at me, its eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity.
"Welcome," it seemed to be saying, its voice like the very darkness itself. "I have been waiting for you."
I knew then that we were doomed.
The sky scraper was no longer a safe haven, no longer a place of refuge.
It was now a battleground, a stage on which a horror beyond comprehension was being played out.
And I was trapped in the midst of it all, forced to face the very depths of my own depravity.
"Come," the figure seemed to be saying, its voice growing louder, more insistent.
"Come and see."
I felt myself being drawn towards it, as if by an unseen force.
I knew then that I had no choice but to follow.
For I was about to enter a world of horrors beyond my wildest dreams.
A world of madness, of chaos, of the very depths of human depravity.
A world of darkness.
And I was going to be trapped in it for eternity.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
The sky scraper was my world. A steel and concrete monolith that seemed to touch the clouds. I had always felt safe within its walls, a sense of security that was hard to shake. But on this particular day, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been building in my stomach.
I had been working late, trying to meet a deadline for a project that was due tomorrow. The fluorescent lights above me seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy, making my skin crawl. My eyes were dry and tired, my focus waning.
As I sat at my desk, I couldn't help but glance out the window every now and then. It was my habit, a nervous tick that I had developed over time. The view was breathtaking - I could see for miles in every direction, the city stretching out before me like a twisted, metal spider.
But as I looked out the window on the 21st floor, something caught my attention. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, a shadow cast by a passing cloud. But as I watched, the shadow grew, taking shape into something that made my heart skip a beat.
The sky scraper was my world. A steel and concrete monolith that seemed to touch the clouds. I had always felt safe within its walls, a sense of security that was hard to shake. But on this particular day, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been building in my stomach.
As I watched, the window in front of me began to shudder. It was as if something was trying to push its way through the glass, pushing and pulling with an unseen force. The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard, a maddening, scraping noise that seemed to come from within my own mind.
I felt a cold sweat break out on my brow as I realized what was happening. The window was exploding, the glass blowing outward in a shower of sharp, jagged shards. I was frozen in place, unable to move or look away.
I couldn't see anything out the window now - just a void, an endless expanse of nothingness that seemed to be sucking all the light out of the room. But I knew what was outside, I could feel it. It was something that had been waiting for me, something that had been patiently biding its time until it was my turn.
As I sat there, paralyzed with fear, I felt a presence behind me. It was a gentle touch at first, just a brush of skin against the back of my neck. But it was growing stronger, more insistent. I could feel the touch spreading down my spine, moving up to my shoulders and down to my hands.
My heart was pounding now, my mind racing with thoughts of what was happening. Was I going crazy? Was this really happening? Or was it something more?
I was being pulled away from my desk now, drawn backward by an unseen force. My body was moving, moving through the room without any conscious thought. I was being pulled to something, something that was waiting for me.
As I stumbled forward, I caught a glimpse of what was on the other side of my desk. It was a sight that made my blood run cold, a sight that made me realize that I was not alone in this world.
The floor was stained with blood, splattered and smeared in every direction. It was as if someone had been killed here, someone who had been torn apart and left to rot. I could see the bones, scattered and twisted in every direction. I could see the eyes, empty and staring into the void.
I was being pulled closer now, closer to the thing that had been waiting for me all along. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.
As I stumbled forward, I saw its face. It was a face that was twisted and distorted, a face that seemed to be carved out of my own nightmares. Its eyes were empty and staring, its mouth twisted into a scream.
I was being pulled into its eyes now, drawn into a world of madness and horror. I was being consumed by it, my very soul being torn apart.
And as I was being pulled under, I felt a voice whispering in my mind. "You're mine now," it said, its words echoing through my skull like a cold, dead kiss.
The last thing I saw was the face, its face twisted into a scream of rage and pain. And then, everything went black.
(2 experts)
The cockpit was dimly lit, the only sound the steady hum of dying systems and the soft beeps of warning lights. Captain Jaxon's eyes were heavy with fatigue as he slumped back in his chair, his head resting on his arms. The ship's life signs had gone dark hours ago; he was the last one left.
"Rosa," he whispered to himself, the ship's AI system, "can you hear me?"
There was a pause before a soft, melodious voice replied, "Jaxon, I'm here. But we've been down to zero power for a while. How are we doing?"
Jaxon forced himself to sit up, his eyes fixed on the main screen as he checked the ship's systems. "We're... we're still going, but we're barely hanging on. We can't stay in here much longer."
"Understood, Captain," Rosa replied, her voice a mix of concern and compassion. "I'm trying to access the external power grid now, but it's not responding."
Jaxon knew that if they couldn't get the ship back online, they'd have to make a desperate attempt to send out a final transmission to Earth. He was the last hope.
"Rosa, can you patch me through to the comms system?"
There was a brief pause before Rosa's voice replied, "I'm trying, Jaxon. I'm trying."
The screen flickered as Rosa worked her magic, and finally, a weak signal came through. Jaxon took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone.
"Mayday, this is... this is the last transmission from the spaceship Aurora. We're... we're on a mission to explore the unknown reaches of the galaxy. We've encountered... we've encountered something that's beyond our understanding. We're the only ones left now."
As he spoke, he felt his voice cracking with emotion. He was saying goodbye to humanity.
"Rosa, are you still there?"
"Jaxon, I'm here," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jaxon took another deep breath and continued.
"We know we're... we're alone in the universe now. We know that we may be the last humans left. But we know that we're not alone in our memories, in our dreams, or in our love for each other."
Tears streamed down his face as he spoke of his crewmates, of his friends, of his family.
"Rosa, play it back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course, Jaxon," she replied. "I'll play back the last transmission."
The screen flickered as Rosa worked her way through the ship's logs, and finally, a message came up.
"Mayday, this is... this is the last transmission from the spaceship Aurora. We're... we're on a mission to explore the unknown reaches of the galaxy. We've encountered... we've encountered something that's beyond our understanding."
Jaxon's eyes welled up with tears as he realized he was reliving his final transmission.
"Rosa, what's the next line?"
"I'm so sorry, Jaxon," she replied. "I have to play it back."
The screen flickered again before a new message came up.
"Rosa, can you... can you send us out?"
Jaxon's heart sank as he realized that was it; they had to let the ship go down.
"Rosa, is that it?" he asked.
"Jaxon, I'm so sorry," she replied. "I've done everything I can. It's over."
As Jaxon's voice cracked with emotion, he knew that he had to let his crewmates go.
"Goodnight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Goodnight, Jaxon," Rosa replied, her own voice now barely a whisper.
The screen went dark as the ship's power finally went out, and Jaxon was alone in the darkness, surrounded by the silence of the vastness of space.
He took one last deep breath before he closed his eyes and let the cold, dark emptiness of space take him away.
(NOTE: 4 experts used)
I'm walking through the revolving doors of the Canadian National Tower, the sounds of the city outside a distant hum. It's a Saturday, and I'm meeting my friends here for brunch. The bright lights and lively atmosphere immediately put me in a good mood. I take my time checking my phone before we make our way to the elevators.
The elevator doors open on the 30th floor, and we step out into the restaurant's bustling atmosphere. We're greeted by the tantalizing aromas of food and the hum of the city outside. We make a beeline for the bar to order.
"Good morning," I say to the bartender, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile. "We'll have three mimosas and a table for six, please."
As we wait for our drinks, we take in the views of the city. The CN Tower's observation decks are just a floor down, and I can see people taking selfies and looking out over the city.
"Can we get a window seat?" my friend Emily asks, her eyes shining with excitement.
The bartender nods and heads to the bar to ask for assistance. I take out my phone to check my social media notifications while we wait.
"Hey, are you guys seeing this?" my friend Alex, who's always glued to his phone, says, not taking his eyes off the screen. "There's a tornado warning for our area."
I frown, feeling a twinge of worry. "What? When?"
"Just got the alert," he says, still scrolling through his feed.
Suddenly, the lights in the restaurant begin to flicker, and the sounds of a tornado outside intensify. The kitchen staff rush out of the back, their faces tense with concern.
"Time to get everyone out of here!" one of them yells.
Panic begins to spread among the patrons as people jump up from their seats. I grab my friends' hands, and we make a beeline for the exit.
Just as we're about to reach it, a figure bursts through the doors, its metallic body gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. It's a T-1000, its liquid-metal skin reflecting the lights of the restaurant.
"Whoa," Alex exclaims, his eyes wide with fear. "Is that...?"
"It's a Terminator," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
The T-1000 scans us up and down before nodding its head. "I have been sent to protect you."
"Wait, what?" Emily says, her eyes still wide with fear.
The T-1000 turns to us and begins to speak in a metallic voice. "I have been tracking this area for several hours. A group of rogue time-travelers has emerged, and they are causing chaos in the timestream."
"Rogue time-travelers?" I repeat, my mind reeling.
The T-1000 turns to us and continues. "I was sent to protect you because I believe you may be the key to stopping them."
Just as we're about to ask more questions, a figure materializes out of the swirling lights of the tornado. It's a TARDIS, and it's heading straight for us.
"Wait, what's happening?" Alex exclaims.
A woman with short, spiky hair and a mischievous grin steps out of the TARDIS. "I'm the Doctor," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I've been sent to help you."
The T-1000 turns to us and nods its head. "I have been tracking this time-traveler," it says.
The Doctor rolls her eyes. "Don't be so serious, T-1000. We're on the same side here."
The T-1000 remains expressionless, but I can see a hint of understanding in its metallic eyes.
"Let's get out of here," the Doctor says, grabbing my friends and me. "We've got a time-traveler to catch."
As we make our way through the swirling tornado, we're surrounded by the sounds of howling sharks and the T-1000's metallic body. We're not sure what we're up against, but we know we have to stop them.
The T-1000 leads us through the restaurant, dodging tables and chairs as we go. The Doctor follows close behind, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger.
As we reach the exit, we're greeted by a sea of jaws and teeth. The tornado of sharks has followed us out into the open air.
"Great," Alex says, his face white with fear.
The T-1000 scans us up and down before nodding its head. "I have a plan," it says.
The Doctor turns to us and winks. "And I've got a better one."
Together, we charge forward, facing the sea of jaws and teeth. We're not sure what we'll do next, but we know we'll face whatever comes next together.
"Let's do this," the Doctor says, her eyes shining with excitement.
"We're in," I reply, my heart pounding in my chest.
As we charge forward, I feel a rush of adrenaline and fear. We're about to face whatever is coming our way, and we're ready.
The T-1000 leads the charge, its metallic body taking a direct hit from a great white shark's jaws. The Doctor follows close behind, her TARDIS swirling around us as we take a detour.
The T-1000 and I are knocked to the ground as we take a series of rapid-fire punches from the T-1000's liquid-metal fists. The Doctor quickly gets up, her sonic screwdriver at the ready.
"Let's get out of here!" she yells.
We make a final dash for it, avoiding the jaws of the great white sharks. We finally see an escape route and we make a break for it.
We are so tired and we have so much more to do. We know we'll be going through many more adventures together. We have to be on our guard at all times as we travel through time.
The T-1000 and the Doctor have made us their own, and we're not sure if we can ever be on our own again. We are in this together, and we know that we'll face whatever is thrown at us as we go.
We finally reach the safe haven of the TARDIS, and we all collapse in a heap.
"Thanks," I say to the T-1000.
"Anytime," it replies.
The Doctor just smiles. "Till next time, my friends."
"I'll be back," it says.
I nod my head, knowing that I'll be ready. We are in for many more adventures together. We've got to be ready.
"Let's take a nap," the Doctor says, her voice soft.
"Agreed," we all reply.
We all fall into a deep, well-deserved sleep. We know that we'll be back at it again soon, and we can't wait.
The T-1000 and I are a team now. We are a team of time-traveling heroes. We are ready to face whatever is coming our way.
The T-1000 and I will be ready for whatever is next. We are ready.
Special thanks to all the following, and many more...
All the model makers, fine tuners, mergers, and tweakers:
Huggingface [ https://huggingface.co ] :
LlamaCPP [ https://github.com/ggml-org/llama.cpp ] :
Quant-Masters: Team Mradermacher, Bartowski, and many others:
MergeKit [ https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit ] :
Lmstudio [ https://lmstudio.ai/ ] :
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