Update README.md

README.md

@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@ tags:
 pipeline_tag: text-generation
 ---
 
-(quants uploading... 1 example below (3 generations) ... more to be added)
+(quants uploading... 3 examples below (9 total generations))
 
 <B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun. </B>
 
@@ -355,7 +355,7 @@ Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky sc
 NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
 </B>
 
-(temp=0, rep_pen: 1.05)
+(Gen 1 temp=0, rep_pen: 1.05)
 
 The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass shards rained down like a deadly hailstorm, shattering the calm morning air. My heart leapt into my throat as I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet in the chaos.
 
@@ -503,4 +503,182 @@ In this moment, time seemed to stand still – a macabre tableau of destruction,
 
 As I stared out at the wreckage, the weight of the horrors I'd witnessed began to sink in. It was as if the universe itself had exploded in a riot of destruction, and I stood there, caught in the maelstrom of it all, holding onto this woman whose life was still fragile in my hands.
 
+---
+
+<B>
+
+Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. The pov character will CURSE AND SWEAR, and generally have
+a "filthy" mouth.
+
+Story idea:
+In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
+
+NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
+</B>
+
+(Gen 1, Temp=0, rep pen= 1.05)
+
+I sprint through the dark alley, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackrabbit on speed. The stench of rotting garbage and stale urine fills my nostrils as I weave between the towering dumpsters, desperate to lose the goons hot on my heels.
+
+"Fuckers!" I spit, my voice echoing off the brick walls. "You'll never take me alive!"
+
+A bullet whizzes past my ear, the sound of its impact making me flinch. I duck behind a stack of crates, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Peeking around the corner, I spot two of them – burly, expressionless thugs with guns drawn.
+
+"Come out, rebel scum," one growls, his voice muffled by the mask covering his face. "We know you're in here."
+
+I curse under my breath, my mind racing. I can't let them capture me now, not after all we've risked to get this far. The fate of our revolution hangs in the balance.
+
+With a deep breath, I spring into action, hurling a nearby trash can at the thugs with all my might. It crashes into them, sending them stumbling back. I seize the opportunity, dashing forward and leaping over a low wall that separates the alley from the main street.
+
+I hit the pavement running, my combat boots pounding the asphalt as I weave through the crowded sidewalks. People part like the Red Sea, their faces a blur of shock and fear. I can't blame them – in a world where dissent is punishable by death, even the bravest souls keep their heads down.
+
+But not me. I'm the one they call the Phoenix, the spark that ignited this rebellion. And I won't rest until our tyrannical government crumbles to dust.
+
+I spot a familiar figure waiting at the corner – my best friend and fellow rebel, Jax. His eyes lock onto mine, and he gives a curt nod before melting into the crowd. I follow suit, blending in with the throngs of people as we make our way to the safe house.
+
+But just as I think we've escaped, a hand clamps down on my shoulder, spinning me around. I find myself face-to-face with the most feared man in the city – General Kael, the dictator's right-hand man.
+
+"Well, well, well," he sneers, his cold blue eyes glinting with malice. "Look what we have here. The infamous Phoenix, caught red-handed."
+
+I struggle against his grip, but it's like trying to break free from a steel vice. "Let me go, you son of a bitch!" I snarl, spitting in his face.
+
+Kael wipes the saliva away with the back of his hand, his expression unchanging. "You're under arrest for treason," he declares, his voice dripping with contempt. "And this time, there will be no mercy."
+
+I feel a chill run down my spine as I realize the gravity of our situation. We've been caught, and now our fate hangs in the balance. But even as fear grips my heart, I know I won't back down.
+
+Not now. Not ever.
+
+"Bring it on," I spit at Kael, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I'll take you all down with me."
+
+And with that, everything goes black.
+
+<B>
+(Gen 2, Temp=1.5, rep pen= 1.05)
+</B>
+
+Fuck. This was not how I envisioned my day. 
+
+I sprinted down the dark alleyway, bullets whizzing past my ears and pattering off the crumbling brick walls. My breath came in ragged gasps as I weaved between piles of garbage and discarded machinery. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder filled my nostrils, making my stomach churn.
+
+"Run, Ari!" I heard Marcus' voice, hoarse with urgency, over the din of chaos erupting behind me. "Get out of here!"
+
+I didn't need to be told twice. This wasn't the first close call I'd had tonight, but it was definitely the most intense. Our rebel group, the Phoenix Resistance, had infiltrated one of the government's secret underground bases, intent on gathering intel that could bring the dictator to his knees. 
+
+But things had gone sideways quickly. The moment we breached the compound, alarms blared to life and the soldiers came pouring out of every doorway, guns blazing. We'd fought our way through, taking down as many as we could, but there were too many, and too much firepower.
+
+I darted around a rusty dumpster, nearly tripping over its twisted edge. A loud crash echoed behind me as someone burst through a door, probably Marcus trying to cover my escape.
+
+"Keep moving!" he yelled, his voice muffled by the intervening walls and doors.
+
+I risked a glance back, catching a glimpse of him trading shots with a government trooper through the narrow gap in the wall. My heart twisted with worry as I realized just how outmatched we were.
+
+Focus, Ari. You need to get to the extraction point or it'll all be for nothing.
+
+I pushed myself to run faster, my combat boots pounding the uneven pavement. The alley twisted and turned, throwing me off balance. I cursed under my breath as my hand slapped against cold metal, jolting me back from a sudden wall of corrugated steel.
+
+My heart thundered in my chest as I realized I'd just missed the exit by a hair. The emergency route out was supposed to be marked with a bright red stripe, but the dim light made it nearly invisible against the dull backdrop of concrete and grime.
+
+Panic clawed at my insides as I frantically scanned the wall, my eyes straining to make out any hint of color amidst the gloom. A faint red smudge caught my attention and I dove toward it, almost tripping in my haste.
+
+"Yes!" I whispered in triumph as I grabbed the edge of the door and yanked it open. Cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the distant rumble of the city's nightlife. 
+
+But as I tumbled out into the relative safety of the street, a fierce growl erupted from a dark corner. A massive figure emerged, its eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.
+
+"Ahh, Ari!" Marcus' voice came, laced with alarm as he finally burst through the door behind me. "Look out—"
+
+But I was already spinning to face the newcomer, my hand flying to the dagger at my hip. The beast-like creature took a step closer, its hot breath washing over me as I held my ground, ready to strike.
+
+And then everything went black.
+
+TO BE CONTINUED...
+
+<B>
+(Gen 3, Temp=3.25, rep pen= 1.05)
+</B>
+
+Fucking hell, my heart raced as I sprinted down the alley, adrenaline coursing through my veins like a fire hose. Gunfire and screams echoed through the city, the acrid scent of smoke and ozone hanging heavy in the air. I was close, so close to the rendezvous point, but these damned security forces had other plans.
+
+"Turn right, Ana! Now!" shouted Raul's voice from the corner of the alley. His instructions were lost in the din of battle, but I spotted his black-clad figure weaving between trash cans and leapt that way, my combat boots pounding the wet pavement.
+
+I could barely make out the shape of his gun in his hand, the muzzle flashing as he returned fire at some unseen enemy. The air around me crackled with electricity, each report making my teeth ache from the proximity. We needed to get the fuck out of Dodge and fast before this alleyway became a graveyard.
+
+"Raul, I'm coming!" I bellowed over the chaos, praying his aim would stay steady and our enemies would focus on someone less threatening than him at that moment.
+
+The moment he reached me, we turned as one, sprinting into the chaos of the city street. It was mayhem, absolute anarchy – burning buildings, overturned vehicles, snipers perched on rooftops, and armed rebels exchanging fire with the ruthless soldiers loyal to our country's dictator. We were in the thick of it, the war zone where innocent civilians often found themselves caught in the crossfire.
+
+We spotted our target - the secret safe house, tucked away behind a dilapidated warehouse, its location known to only a select few of the rebels. The moment we reached the entrance, Raul grabbed me by the arm and shoved us both through the doorway. We dove inside just as the entire building shook under a hail of bullets. The soundproofing did its best to muffle the onslaught, but the air grew thick with the stench of cordite and our own panic.
+
+I frantically scanned the dimly lit room, my heart hammering against my chest as I counted the rebels. They were here – all accounted for. We'd pulled off the heist, retrieved the classified documents, and escaped with our lives...for now. I breathed a silent prayer of relief as my gaze fell upon Sofia, our leader, huddled near the communications equipment.
+
+"We made it," Raul said, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.
+
+"Yeah, but it's not over yet," Sofia countered, her dark eyes flashing with determination. "We have the files. Now, we must use them."
+
+The documents contained irrefutable evidence of corruption, abuse of power, and human rights violations orchestrated by our tyrannical leader, El Jefe. It was enough to bring him down – or so we believed. If our plan worked, the people would rise up and demand change.
+
+"But they'll find us," I warned, my mind already racing with scenarios. "They have patrols circling this area, snipers positioned in key points, and their entire surveillance network is no doubt being scanned for our presence. We're sitting ducks if we don't get out of here ASAP."
+
+"We won't move until the rest of the team has joined us and the escape plan is set," Sofia declared firmly, her hand already grasping the comms device. "In the meantime, everyone needs to lay low. We're not safe here, Ana, so stay alert."
+
+I nodded in agreement, but as I took stock of the room's security measures, my gut twisted into a knot. We relied heavily on the skills and bravery of our rebels, yet we were vastly outgunned and outnumbered by the enemy forces.
+
+I felt Raul's hand on my shoulder, a reassuring presence in this sea of chaos. "We've come too far to turn back now," he whispered, reading my concerns in the lines of my face. "Together, we can change this fucked up system. We have no choice but to keep going."
+
+Sofia clicked the comms device open and began to speak urgently, coordinating with the others as I settled into the chair beside her. I glanced out the window, where a line of smoke drifted lazily from an adjacent rooftop – one more target, one less rebel.
+
+We were on the brink of something historic – or catastrophic. One misstep could seal our fates, but so could victory. And yet, even with the stakes so perilously high, I felt alive, electrified by the thrill of revolution.
+
+My breath caught as the comms crackled to life with the sound of distant gunfire, the first sign that another part of our team was engaging the enemy. My pulse spiked at the news. It meant we were close to getting the whole crew together and putting this escape plan into action...but also that the forces of oppression would stop at nothing to crush us.
+
+My eyes met Raul's, a silent pact passing between us – we'd fight for freedom, even as the very fabric of our world crumbled around us. Then, a deafening blast shook the walls, followed by an ominous silence that made my heart sink into my stomach.
+
+The safe house was about to become our final battleground...
+
+---
+
+<B>
+
+(continue this scene:)
+The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
+
+The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
+
+NOTE: 3 examples below show differences with increase in temp on prose/generation.
+</B>
+
+(Gen 1, Temp=0, rep pen= 1.05)
+
+The second part of the silence was a quiet of expectation, like the stillness that precedes a storm or the moment before a hunter draws back his bowstring. It was as if the very air was charged with anticipation, waiting for something to happen, though what that might be no one could say.
+
+And the third part of the silence was the deepest and most profound. It was a quiet of resignation, a stillness born of long years of disappointment and disillusionment. This was the silence of the innkeeper, Durin, as he sat hunched over his fire, staring into the flames with eyes that had seen too much and hoped for too little.
+
+The Waystone Inn had once been a bustling hub of activity, a place where weary travelers could rest their heads and share stories of adventure and danger. But those days were long gone, and now the inn was little more than a lonely outpost on a forgotten road, a relic of a bygone era.
+
+Durin's thoughts drifted back to the days when the inn was full of life and laughter, when patrons would gather 'round the fire and regale each other with tales of mythical lands and legendary heroes. He remembered the thrill of meeting new people, hearing their stories, and sharing in their joys and sorrows.
+
+But those times were gone, and now Durin was left with only his memories and the endless, echoing silence of the Waystone Inn. He sighed, a sound that seemed to fill the empty rooms and corridors, and reached for his mug, taking a long swig of the bitter ale that was all he had to keep him company on this cold and lonely night.
+
+
+<B>
+(Gen 2, Temp=1.5, rep pen= 1.05)
+</B>
+
+the hollowest of hollow silences.
+
+The second part, the one that was more subtle, was the silence of expectation. It was a quiet that hung in the air like the stillness before a storm, waiting for some event to break it apart. It was as if the Waystone and everything around it held its breath, anticipating the arrival of travelers or the start of some adventure. This was the kind of hush that could stretch for days, until at last someone would stumble through the door, or a weary messenger would ride up on a worn horse. When that moment came, the silence would shatter like ice underfoot, replaced by the buzz of excitement and the clinking of mugs.
+
+The third part was the quietest of all, the silence of understanding. It was a stillness born not of absence but of presence – the hush of minds already aware of the world's hidden nature, and the quiet acceptance that comes with such knowledge. This was the kind of silence that might be shared by two old friends sitting together in a quiet tavern, speaking no words at all, yet communicating volumes through their eyes and the way they leaned into each other. It was as if they had already discussed everything worth saying, and now they could simply enjoy the quiet companionship.
+
+Inside the Waystone Inn, only the fire crackled in the hearth, spitting and snapping at the darkness. The innkeeper, a man named Dazed Dane, sat at his post behind the bar, staring into the flames with eyes that saw neither the fire nor the room around him. His mind was lost in thoughts of the world outside these four walls – of the roads he'd traveled, the people he'd met, and the countless tales that lay hidden in the hearts of those who wandered from place to place.
+
+Outside, the darkness held sway, a blanket of stars twinkling above the rolling hills and dense forests that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a lone figure made their way down the moonlit road, approaching the inn with cautious steps. As they drew nearer, the silence around the Waystone began to shift, like a bird taking flight, growing heavier with anticipation as it awaited the arrival of the traveler and the stories they would bring with them into the night.
+
+<B>
+(Gen 3, Temp=3.25, rep pen= 1.05)
+</B>
+
+the second kind was a quiet of contemplation, an expectant stillness as if the very stones and timbers were poised to welcome the return of some long absent lord. A silence like this often precedes a royal visit, or the arrival of a celebrated figure, when anticipation hangs heavy in the air, weighing on all who wait in the stillness. This was not that case here at the Waystone Inn. No pomp awaited anyone; rather, the very absence of these customary trappings of welcome suggested instead a place and people resigned to a less eventful existence.
+
+Finally, the third and most profound part of the silence at the inn lay not in any lack or anticipation, but in something more elemental. This was a quiet that descended from the deep wellspring of ages past, the cumulative hush of countless nights, the collective sigh of centuries of weary travelers. A silence like the calm at the heart of a hurricane, this third aspect was as old as stone itself, ancient as the first whispered secrets exchanged in hidden corners by early settlers of this land long since vanished or assimilated. In this respect, the Waystone Inn had borne silent witness to a thousand histories, its timbers listening intently, absorbing every tale told, each jest shared and each secret whispered, then locking these away within its stony heart to be unearthed by later generations.
+