[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
She's behind you, holding you up. You get back your footing and turn around to face her. She grabs your hands and starts to dance, forcing you along. Her long black hair is pulled up into a ridiculous hairdo, nearly making you laugh, but her intense face stops you.

You open your mouth to ask the question, but she places one finger over her red lips.

She turns her head and looks at you.

You look around. The women have all stripped to down to their shifts and the men down to breeches or hose.

[User] You keep quiet for now

[Assistant]
Considering you have no idea what in the hell is happening, you decide to take her silent advice. You nod to let her know you understood her message. Her large lucious lips briefly show a tiny smile.

She leads as you slowly dance. She tries to bring you up to speed, but you've no talent for this.

Suddenly, you hear it. A cacophony of bells and whistles, flutes and drums. The horrible sound is quiet at first, messy and brutal, but as the volume grows it becomes cleaner. The cruelty of the sound is transformed into music by the strings that fade in.

And then your feet will themselves along. They know every move, exactly what to do, exactly when to do it. You hands are placed at just the right place on your partners body. You search for the source of the sweet sound, seeing the man sprinting and springing all around the room, screaming. The music is so loud you can only hear his roars of laughter as he passes by you.

The choir starts in and the sound feels like honey. The men at first, low basses, then the women join in, their high sopranos filling the air with such lovely wisps of beauty. You lean your head back and open your mouth to drink in the sounds.

Your partner leans against you closely as dance, right against your chest, but the music is the only thought in your head and heart. Your body almost don't care.

[User] You quiet

[Assistant]
And then it stops without notice. You nearly fall down, and would have, if it weren't for the support of your partner.

The strange man has stopped dancing, his laughter the only sound now. "Stop! Stop stop stop! Everyone!"

The people had continued dancing without the music, but now at his word they halt their movements.

The man looks around at them all. He squints his eyes and angles his head with a hand cupped around his ear.

"What? Time already? It can't be. Oh yes it is, is can be, because it is and therefore must be and can be. Oh well, next time, same time. And you, find some proper trousers . Here, you can have mine." He hands you his black pants. You reach out to take them, in shock.

"On second thought, no." He quickly grabs it back. He walks through the wall behind his throne, disappearing, all the while laughing.

The room breathes a collective sigh and everyone is searching the floor for their clothing.

Your partner is putting on her clothes, and you avert your gaze.

People all around are talking now, and she finally says something.

"Relax. I bet you have many questions. Come. We'll find you something to wear."

You open your eyes and she's wearing a simple grey outfit, probably something that went under the ridiculous dress she's carrying now. Her hair is down now, and you can't help but appreciate her stunning beauty.

You take a breath. You'll listen to her and keep quiet for now, at least until you have an inkling of what's going on. This feeling of tension inside you isn't just because you're mostly naked... But it probably would be better if you were wearing something proper. You blush.

[User] You she guides you out of the room

[Assistant]
She takes your arm and pulls you towards a corner of the great hall.

"The man you just met is Zaren. He's... Complicated. All you need to know right now is that he's God here. If he asks you to do something, it's not a question. You obey him. Without hesitation."

She pulls you through the stone blocks of the wall before you know what's happening. It's chilly on your naked skin and tickles slightly.

"A few decades ago Zaren had an argument with... with a door. Apparently, the door won, so he decreed that all doors be hung and then burned." She looks straight at you, not even blinking. "It was a few years before he got sick of that and decided to introduce these fake walls." She pulls you through a narrow hallway, past tapesties of Zaren eating breakfast. In every single one he's moving. You can hear whispers coming from them, most of them asking if it's on. A few people pass you, guards and servants by their look. None of them gives you a second glance. You look in awe at the beautiful artwork on the walls.

"Oh my, I'm forgeting my manners. It's good Zaren isn't here. We must be quiet. He hears much of what is not meant for him. My name is Ophelia." She pulls you through a series of walls, all made of gorgeous stone with artwork carved into the individual blocks. "It's been a long time since one has joined the upper ranks. Maybe you'll even last. Although I've never heard of someone... Well, just appearing out of thin air. Something that Zaren would do certainly, but I think he went through that phase a few hundred years ago. It's hard to remember all the things he does... You will be joining the upper rank, won't you? You must be, Zaren did not request your absence, as he calls it, or an execution, as we call it. So, why are you here?"

She pulls you into a room full of mannequins and fabric, with colourful carpet on the floors, walls, and ceiling. "I'm sure the Tailor will find something for you. So why you are here?"

[User] You where is here, exactly?

[Assistant]
"Oh my. Now that is a very good question. But here comes the Tailor." She turns around and curtsies towards the door.

"What -" You stand there speechless.

A man walks into the room and bows, a spotless fine black coat shimmering around his white furry torso, four furry little limbs poking out of the coat. They are end in three long, delicate fingers with little hairs at the base and bare human-like tips. His hairy legs have the same pattern, with his feet looking almost normal. Large wings are folded at his back, trailing on the floor.

His large black eyes poke out from his white fur and his human jaw opens to speak in a slightly buzzing voice.

"Hello, good lord. I am the tailor. I must say, your eyes are a wonderful colour. Such a light but intense brown. They will be a challenge to match correctly, but I will enjoy creating your outfits for you."

"What..." You take a step back, bumping into a mannequin and accidently knocking it over.

"You will have to work on your coordination if you plan to be part of The Court. Dancing is quite popular here. But even if you fall or some such thing, you will look wonderful. Still, that is not my job. Now come over here, I must measure you. Take a look around at the outfits. You may find one you like."

 Ophelia stares at you and gestures. You timidly take a few steps forward.

The tailor places his finger tips on your arms, mummering to himself. "Don't you need measuring tape for this?" You ask.

"Measuring tape? Bah, I am better then the tailors you have known. A true master can look at a man for a second and make him a god within minutes."

"I've never known any tailors."

"Well then trust me, I am the best. Now lift your arms please?" As he slides his hands around your arms and chest you look away, uncomfortable.

[User] You look at the strange carpeted walls

[Assistant]
Colourful fine carpets cover all the walls, some more rugs hanging over them in turn.

The carpets are like a dark, dull rainbow. The carpet itself is black, with colours seeming floating over it like a reflection in water. The colours swirl and mix and seperate so slowly you have to careful look before you see the emerging patterns of dancing colours.. You watch a batch of a grey blue twirl around with concentrated yellow and green drops, absorbing them.

The rugs draped over them like curtains over imaginary windows are stationary pictures of outfits, each in a different pose. They continue from down the walls onto the floor and a few hang from the ceiling. You recognize a few outfits, but what really catches your eye is the one hidden on the far left, the one that looks just like Zaren's black finery. It's the only one with a person in the clothes.

Zaren's in it, posed elegantly in his black and gold coat. His arms are raised as if to greet you, but his face perfectly shows his comtempt at your very existance. All but his eyes, which are laughing. You do not know if the contempt is the joke.

There is a man behind that insanity, you are sure of it. Whether the insanity is a cover or not, you do not know.

You look back at the swirling patterns. They are starting to resemble pictures now, just barely, but the proper shades are coming in...

[User] You an Arena

[Assistant]
Your heart beats.

You stand in an great amphitheatre, on shifting sands. It's quiet for but a moment, and then the clashes of weapons rings out in great echoes, with cheery yells of murder providing a bass quality. Smiles flash all around as people hack or are hacked about and nothing but snorts of laughter without the barest hint of pain accompany the carnage.

Sprays of blood float on the air. Spilled guts and limbs sink deep into the sands. Heads laughing are choking on sand and sweet blood spills out of their lifeless bodies.

You smell gore in the air and it clouds your thoughts. Little droplets rain down in your vision. You count each as they pass. Some spray in the corner of your eye hits your cheek and you can taste the liquid life.

Liquid life.

Life.

You're alive.

Where is your weapon?

[User] A claymore on the ground to your right

[Assistant]
The heavy blade is laying on the ground.

Your heart beats.

You survey the fight.

It's a giant mass of men screaming in a variety of different emotions. Joy here, fear there. You can see spectres spectating, watchers watching, and shadows spectating as well, because what else would they do? Be serious.

With all the chaos, if you crouched you could conceivably have more cover. A lower center of gravity would also be a benefit. A quick roll would provide more cover and speed, but lack the same control. The ground, while littered with weapons and bodies, has a clear path to your weapon. You could try to crawl there. This would provide the most cover, but you risk being stepped on, and what you gain in cover you give up in speed.

Beat.

Move now, or risk danger for another look around.

[User] You crouch

[Assistant]
You shift and fall, knees bent, head low. An arrow whistles in the air.

Beat.

You senses collaspe in on this one thing. The arrow shines brightly as the sun catches it and then wades in and out of bloody bodies.

Your toes curl in the sand, trying to the draw the rest of your body in. Your arms follow your slowly moving torso as it curls as well. You blink and lose the arrow. When your eye open your head to low to see it. You can only hope. You push foward with one foot.

Beat.

The arrow catches your left shoulder blade and tears through the top layer of muscle and skin but leaves your body mostly intact.

Beat.

You grit your teeth and swallow a gurgle of pain. You've had worse. You lie.

Beat.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

You reach the sword and grab it with your right hand, using all your strength to swing it up and around so your weak hand to hold it.

The man in front of you laughs as back is penetrated by the blade. The combination of the unbalancing swing and the collision shock your hands and they tingle. Oh wait, that's because someone cut them off. Now who would do such a thing.

A laugh swirls around in your mouth and tastes great. You let it out and the fear and terror and pain all disappear.

A pommel strike to the face later and you're laying on the ground as the battle rages on, spitting out sand and blood and teethe as you laugh.

[User] Back in the room

[Assistant]
You blink. The world is... well, not really "normal", but... it's better. You bring a hand to your head, fine, but tears are falling down your face. Colours spin in your eyes. The madness of the walls creeps and lurks in your head and it's shrieks and whispers make your ears bleed.

"You looked at the walls, didn't you? Where did you go? Nevermind, it's not important. It's not frequently a pleasent place anyway. Now look at me. Hmm, the barber will have to take a look at you. Fuzzy face, tangled hair. Still, not my job. Now please stand still and um, please do not touch anything. You don't seem graceful. No offense meant, my good sir." The Tailor lets go of your arm and waddles off on his strange legs. He walks straight through a carpeted wall.

You carefully sit down on the floor. This isn't real.

But it is.

This can't be real.

But it is.

It was a dream then. But you're --  you're awake now. It was a dream. Just a dream.

No, no, no, NO, NO, NO! This can't be happening. The world is spinning now, and you feel faint and dizzy. There's a sour taste in the back of your dry mouth. Don't open your eyes. Don't look up. This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't happening. Your heart pounds. Your fists close and your arms tense.

No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!

Something touches your head -- NO! "Get away! Get away! Take your bug men and crazy kings and doors and dreams and shove it!" You fling yourself backwards and push off the attacking nightmares.

[User] You ophelia

[Assistant]
You hit the nightmares and they gasp. You open your eyes.

It's just Ophelia. Just Ophelia. She's holding her wrist in her other hand.

"I..." Your mouth closes. This is it. This is all happening too fast, too fast, too much. You didn't mean to hit her but the world is just spinning now.

"I'm sorry. It's been so long since any of us have seen someone new to The Court, let alone to this world. Most people -- well, besides you, everyone -- come to this realm through the slums and move up. I'm afraid you'll have to forgive them. This place changes people... Some for the better, like the Tailor. Or at least he would say so. Most... Well, you'll see soon. Please, just calm down, and I'll answer all your questions. Zaren will forgive us this."

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean---"

"I know. Just hold on a moment. We'll get you some clothes and then I'll take you to your rooms. I'll explain there. Just hold on."

You take a deep breath. You're under control now. Those walls... They play with your mind. But you're back now.

The Tailor walks back through the wall.

"Now sir, please take a look around the room. The mannequins have some samples, the carpets others, although you probably would like to stay away from them now. Small changes can be made quite easily to the design, or even after if you are disappointed with my work, although I doubt that will happen. Anything custom will have to come later I'm afraid. You have much work to do my friend."

[User] The black outfit

[Assistant]
You point out the tapestry in the corner, the one with Zaren in his shining black clothes. There's something about it that intrigues you. Something that just draws you in.

Ophelia and the Tailor give each other a look.

"I'm... I'm afraid you'll have to choose another my friend. I don't believe Zaren would be... happy. Wait. I think I have something in a similar style. Take a look at this. You may request changes if you wish." The Tailor pulls out a tapestry and peels it apart. You did not notice before, but they're made of different layers stuck together. Each layer contains one piece of the outfit.

The pants are the same thin fit, but looser at the ankles. The belt has two buckles of polished gold and beautiful leather. "The tanner can make you such a belt. It is only cloth that I may create." The Tailor buzzes. A tight but long shirt with slightly ruffled sleeves is next. It's tight around the torso and hugs the waist with large shoulders. Over that comes a waist coat with shining gold buttons.

"It is designed with a similar cloth in mind and the same colours. Colour, that is. The shirt is long sleeved and with a waist coat, but I will keep your wishes in mind. You may take these rags for now. It will be completed soon. I suggest you visit the barber, cobbler, and tanner. Oh, and all gentlemen of The Court are expected to have their own sword. Something about duels. I never saw the point of it, but it's been a long time since I was... different. That reminds me. You should have been here before. The style now is very fond of vibrant colours, not this... Monotone thing you have chosen. That must have been at least decades ago... Off, now."

You don't particularly feel like hanging around, so you accept his choice and the Tailor fills you hands with fine shirts and breeches, simple but elegant. Only he would call them rags. He then turns you around and pushes you along and out. You nearly panic when he shoves you into the wall, only to remember that it is in fact a door.

Ophelia walks down the hall. "Coming?"

[User] You follow her

[Assistant]
"One second." You call out.

You'd prefer to be clothed at this point.

You slip on a pair of pants and a shirt before running, trying to catch up to her without dropping any of the things you're carrying.

She looks at you. You feel self conscious suddenly, despite your newly clothed appearance. You look straight ahead, trying to keep even steps and the same pace as Ophelia, who walks fast.

"Zaren didn't tell me where you'd stay. I suppose the guest quarters --  no, that's no good. They're too far, for one, and I don't believe Zaren considers you a guest. He is very fond of order and organization. Or at least the order and organization of others. We'll drop these off in my room for now. We have others to visit. Please wait just a little bit longer."

You and Ophelia walk in silence. The stoned passage gives way into large rooms with bustling people. Ophelia leads you past a great fountain spitting out clear water and up stairs. Putting on pants was probably a good decision.

On the second level people jostle and bump into your and it takes great skill not to drop anything.

After a few minutes of twisting turns Ophelia stops in the middle of a hall. "This is my humble abode. Please just dump those off on my desk." Ophelia then pulls you through the wall. You doubt you'll ever.... get.... used.... to that?

[User] You ophelia's room

[Assistant]
This isn't a room. It's a damn mansion. This is just one room and it's huge.

Expensive carpets cover over parts of the floor. The high quality marble shows through in other parts. The walls are the same stones from the halls, but large paintings with golden frames cover parts of it. A giant golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Giant golden stairs are placed on both sides of the room.

Before the stairs stands a bronze statue of... Something. It looks like a regular man, naked but for a cloth that hangs from one shoulder, but something feels off about it. His face is turned down and his eyes closed, one mouth corner lifted in a sneer. He's kneeling almost in a pleading position, as if he dare not look up.

"Zaren's work. I suppose he thinks it a gift and why he's right of course. It's very lovely. Every so often when one disagrees with him death is not always the suitable punishment. I'm sure Tunc agrees with me, though he may not express it well." Ophelia grabs your hand and leads you quickly to a small, bare room behind the statue. Her face is ashen.

"Check the walls!" She hisses at you, then brushes her fingers along the walls. You follow her example, even if you cannot fathom why. She and you check the whole wall and she takes a deep breath.

"Zaren has a habit of popping up when he isn't wanted. We can never be sure we are safe, but vigilance is the only option if we wish to survive. We must go soon, but if you have any questions that must be answered, ask now. We must be very careful what we say outside this room, even inside it."

[User] You tunc

[Assistant]
"Oh... Tunc. Yes. Tunc was a friend of mine... A very, very long time ago." Ophelia leans against a wall. "You can drop those clothes off right here." She gestures towards the spotless floor. "Tunc. He... Disagreed with Zaren a very long time ago. Zaren is unpredictable at best, and the king of chaos at worst. The power he wields is not a good combination with his nature. Tunc took a great risk. He thought he could challenge Zaren's rule. He... Failed. Listen closely. I don't care to relive the experience, so I will not be sharing any details, and I'd doubt you'd really want to hear them once you understand his fate." Ophelia looks down, unsure. "I tried to warn him...." She pauses and closes her eyes.

The memory is obviously a painful one for her. You are unsure of what to do, so you just stand there, dumbly.

She takes a few seconds to collect her thoughts and then continues in a monotone voice.

"Zaren is a creative.... Man. He didn't kill Tunc, exactly. He decided to create an example of him. He was feeling particularly... Well, something. It's hard to tell what goes on in his mind, though it gets easier after time. That's what scares me the most, I suppose. Anyway, Zaren is a powerful man. He has abilities that the rest of us cannot comprehend. He's kept Tunc alive even as he is now." She looks straight up at you. "I suppose there's no easy way about this.  That statue out there is Tunc. Zaren did something with him. I used to cry, talk to him, anything, but there's a time when you just have to let go. Especially here. I'm not even sure if it was meant to be a punishment, reward, or just some twisted form of art. Zaren is confusing, misleading, childish, and any other number of unpleasant things."

"You said Zaren keeps him alive... Does that mean?" You ask, afraid of the answer.

"Yes. He moves, ever so slowly. Once in a very great while he cries. That's where the "art" comes in." She sighs. "Do you have any other questions?"

[User] You zaren

[Assistant]
"Zaren? You mean besides his seeming complete and utter insanity? Well, I told you. He's a god here. The god here. There's not much else to him. I could tell you about all the things he's done over the years. All the times I nearly laughed at him. All the times others did laugh at him, and paid for it. All the times he laughed along with them. He's unpredictable. Don't forget it, ever. If you remember nothing else, remember that. I've seen him kill people for following his instructions to the word. He's done things... Things that are worse than death. Tunc's fate is far from the worst."

"Then why? Why do you let him do it? Why not do something about it? Surely he couldn't stop you all?"

"Look at Tunc. As bad as things are, they could be worse. Zaren's powerful in ways even the strongest of us can't imagine. Tunc used to say that reality is Zaren's bitch. He was frank like that. Everyone here has at least the smallest ability for magic, and some are very talented, but Zaren's in a class of his own. Besides, most have adapted. They've learned to live with it. It doesn't matter how awful something is. If you live with something for a long time it becomes the norm. You can only be in sheer terror for so long before it bores you."

You can see it in her eyes. The fear that has long given way to numbness.

She attempts to smile. "Better the devil you know."

[User] You where am I

[Assistant]
"Now that's a good question. The short answer is: I don't know. Nobody does as far as I know. Except, perhaps, for Zaren, but I don't think he's likely to share that information, do you? You really never went through the slums?" Ophelia narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"I don't know what you mean." You answer truthfully.

"The slums are what they are. A broken down place infested with poverty and suffering. Everyone, nobility and peasants alike, appears in the slums. People don't really have children here. Pregnancy is extremely rare among the population, even over large periods of time. Most women will go their whole life without a child. Most pregnancies will end in miscarriages. Almost all of those carried to term will be stillborn. Of the handful of people over our whole history to be born here... I've never met one. I've heard that they turn out strangely, even compared to the average citizen. Nothing specific, just strange. There are rumours that Zaren is one, but I doubt a thing like him was even born, even in another place. To my knowledge there is no one older than Zaren alive today so I guess we'll never know. Anyway, people will simply "arrive" here instead. From somewhere else. Always... Well, you're the exception, but always in the slums. They're not a pleasant place. The slums are filled with screams and the raving of the mad. The "upper ranks" to which you now belong are comprised of the completely sane, or at least the sanest. Zaren... I don't think he's insane. I've known him too long. No, I think he just likes to watch us suffer in our own filth."

"So you can't tell me anything about where I am."

"No, I can tell you much about where we are. I just don't know where where we are is. I can't tell you anything about where any of us came from. Most people don't remember anything and even if they do it's after a long time of searching. But it just tears them apart. It's best to forget if you start remembering."

"But I... I remember.... Something." You're not sure. It's that faint form of memory, but vivid in strange places. More like a story that you've visualized.

"Forget it. Or if you can't forget it, ignore it. At the very least leave it alone. Do not go any further into that abyss."

But this memory is to real to forget. Ophelia looks at you, rolls her eyes, and sighs. "Okay. Tell me about it, but then that's it. Don't ever think you can make it farther into your own mind. It won't end well."

"I remember. I remember... " Words roll of your tongue as you look through the past towards the only memory you can find.

[User] You white

[Assistant]
It's white. Some of it is powder and some is thicker and clear. Some of it sticks together.

Snow. It's snow. And it's falling.

You look up. The sky is dark with little flecks coming into existance as they get close enough for you to see them.

Snow crunchs under you.

You open your mouth and catch a flake on your tongue and then laugh. You look at one closely. It's pretty with its twirls and patterns and designs.

You dance, dance in the snow, falling, rolling, screaming with laughter and fun.

Each flake unique but nothing without its friends.

Then it's gone. You have it here in your head now, fixed and alive, something you'll remember. There's more...

But that's gone, at least for now.

[User] You memories

[Assistant]
Ophelia is speechless for a minute."Wow. That's a lot, well, compared to me. You, you like... Liked nature, didn't you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's all I remember anyw--"

"No. No. I'm sure you have more in there. Don't try to remember... But if you do... I don't know if we come from the same place, but maybe, just maybe, we do. If you remember enough it might trigger my memories too." Ophelia looks hopeful. Happy. You don't think she'll ever remember if she hasn't by now, but it's not in your heart to crush her new found hope. She smiles for a brief moment, caught up in a memory that isn't hers yet is still her only link to her potential past, even if it's faint at best.

Then she remembers where she is right now and shakes her head to rid her of her folly. "Anymore questions? We don't have much time."

[User] You doors

[Assistant]
"Oh yes. I told you about the "fight" Zaren had. He got rid of all the doors in The Court, except for the large front doors to the palace. Apparently they "took his side". Without doors we lacked privacy, but Zaren didn't care. Probably didn't eve occur to him. But after a few years he had his brilliant idea; fake walls. No one had any idea he could do something like that, but I don't think it surprised anyone. That's why we check the walls. He can build them anywhere he wants, so we must be vigilant, vigilant always. It's tiring at first but you build up a habit eventually."

"Doesn't it... Freak you out?"

"At first it was a little strange, but after a year or two you don't even think about it anymore. You start to forget what doors look like."

[User] The Court

[Assistant]
"This is The Court. It's part of this realm. It, the slums, the markets, and a few other districts make up about half of it, with wildness making up the other half. Zaren keeps meticulous records of nearly everything, including maps. I'm not sure why, he's a very chaotic person, but I guess even chaos is ordered from time to time -- otherwise it would have an order to it. We should visit his libraries some time. Just one of them would take a very long time to read through. Every so often he'll change the realm so much that previous records need to be updated, so he purges almost everything and everyone starts again. He always keeps a very accurate record of the books he's had though, even the purged ones. There are rumours he keeps copies of them somewhere after he destroys the others. I wouldn't put it past him, but there are many things only Zaren knows, and this is one of them. But that doesn't really answer your question, does it?

"Tell me about The Court." You ask.

"Well, it's composed of servants, guards, and merchants and the like that look after us from the upper ranks. You've met the Tailor and seen a few of the guards and servants. You'll also meet the Tanner, the Shoemaker, the Barber, the Blacksmith, the Jeweler, and various teachers and instructors. Probably a few more I'm forgetting. Almost all necessities and wants are provided for us. We are the only sane ones left in this forsaken realm. We are basically Zaren's playthings. Let's see, what else...."

She stops to think for a moment.

"We're in the west wing right now. It's devoted mostly to private residences. Zaren will assign you one soon. For the most part he'll let you decorate it as you wish -- oh, that reminds me, the Framer, the Painter, the Carpenter, the Mason, and a few others. Anyway, he may give you some "gifts", akin to housewarming gifts. He would be "offended" if you did not accept them. He's given me things: paintings, statues, furniture. A lot of it is weird and out of style, but surprising none of the chairs will break... or strangle you, or something else Zaren would find funny. Let's see... There's the south wing which houses the servants quarters and the kitchens and other such things, and the south tower, which is primarily for the craftsmen. What is literally called The Court is in the northern end and is filled with Zaren's gardens, libraries, mess halls, and other areas for social gatherings. Oh, the gymnasium  as well. The east wing holds more craftsman and merchants. Some of the market district blends in with this area. The west wing also includes the entrance to this palace and the long hall, as we call it. Zaren's throne room really, but he also has thrones in other rooms."

[User] You events

[Assistant]
"We also have many events, like the dance you saw. The Tailor mentioned duels; all the men learn how to fight, as well as quite a few of the women. Zaren finds it amusing, although he doesn't allow anyone to die. Most of the time. We have feasts every few days and a hunt the next day. Lets see. There's contests and tournaments. You must participate in at least one event. That's where those teachers and instructors are useful. What else... I think that's all. If not, well, you'll figure out the rest as you go. You seem like you already know how to dance, so that's one less thing."

"But I don't."

"Then what was that back in the dance hall?"

"Didn't you hear the music? It was so loud."

Ophelia's eyes narrow. "What music?"

Curious.

[User] You it's time

[Assistant]
"It's time. No more questions. That reminds me; one more thing you should know. Time functions strangely here. Nothing grows or changes unless Zaren wills it. Every so often he'll change The Court - usually not to a noticeable extent but once in a while there are some great changes. But back to the point; time is strange. We don't quite... Age. But that's a discussion for later. We still have to visit the Shoemaker, the Blacksmith, the Tanner, the Jeweler..."

The list feels nearly endless, though it's actually short. Ophelia goes through them as she leads out of the empty room, back into the halls, and towards the south tower, leading you through winding halls, large decorative rooms, up and down stairs, out onto a blooming courtyard and finally in front of the south tower.

"We didn't go this way before." You ask, curious.

"You were naked before. I didn't think you'd want to."

 "Fair enough."

The tower itself is huge, made of tiny white stones grinded and polished to create a perfect cylinder. The entrance is a pair of huge and heavy stone slab doors that are currently open. The tower is a hub and dozens of people are walking in and out at any one moment, mostly guards, servants, and nobles. You and Ophelia are out of place in your plain clothing as the guards are wearing armour, the servants the uniforms of their specific job, and the nobles in outlandish outfits.

"We have much to do and little time to do it. After the formal dances Zaren will do "realm maintenance". I mentioned it before; this is when he plays around with the fabric of reality. That's why it's so busy. Everyone wants to get their work done before Zaren changes anything. It will be busy after too. The tower is frequently full, especially at these times, but I have seen it nearly empty a few times."

[User] The lift

[Assistant]
"Follow me." Ophelia walks past the guards and weaves through the throng of people with grace. You follow carefully, not wanting the heavy armoured feet of the guard to crush yours. She leads you up a spiraling staircase to a small platform reaching over the center. As soon as you step on it floats upwards. Ophelia grabs your arm to keep you from falling or freaking out.

"Be calm. If you stand still it is surprisingly safe. The Tailor's rooms are on the third floor, so it was unnecessary to take the lift. The others reside near the top though, so unless you would like to go up all those stairs we're taking the lift." Ophelia holds your arm tightly.

You force yourself to take a breath and try not to look down. Ophelia senses this is not the time to talk and so you just stand there, jaw clenched. Finally Ophelia takes a breath and talks.

"Who shall we visit first? As a new member of our lovely "family" you have priority, so don't fret about lines or some such nonsense. After we visit them all we should go back to the Tailor and pick up the beginning of what will, trust me, become a very large wardrobe ."

[User] The Blacksmith (this will continue the story)

[Assistant]
Ophelia smiles. "He's a friend of mine. Please don't let his appearence frighten you, he is at heart a gentle man, but he can be a bit sensitive. I mentioned... Changes. Some, like the Tailor, are happy with their new existence. The Blacksmith is good at his job and enjoys it, but I believe he misses some things about his previous life."

The lift slows down and moves towards a space that it then attaches to. Ophelia walks straight off. "Come on. Don't hesitate. It gets better with practice."

 You step off the lift. It leaves your feet and lowers again, leaving you with a nearly falling sensation. Your heart pounds and you don't care to look down, even though you're on a stable floor now. Ophelia holds your arm and pulls you forward, not even looking back at that horrible open space.

"It's a little way from here." Ophelia walks beside you, much more steady than you could be. With perfect posture and graceful movements she looks almost regal. "Do you have any combat experience? The Blacksmith will have to make you many weapons of all kinds, especially if you are fan of the dueling, so you should be familar with them all and with more than one style."

"No... Well, I don't really remember." You can smell the fires and you know you are close.

"Oh... Yes. My apologies. We're getting closer. Zaren created these spaces to minimize the smells. They're particularly bad at the tanery; though we are beyond many of the more unhygenic and barbaric practices, it smells nearly as foul as it would if we used the original "recipes. Here we are." Ophelia stops and pulls you into a searing steam filled room.

[User] You meeting the Blacksmith

[Assistant]
The steam that flies in your face and shocks you quickly dissapates. Beyond it there is a large forge filled to the brim with tools that line shelves and walls, with all kinds of hammers, chisels, tongs, and other things you don't recognize of all different sizes; and works, both completed weapons that are displayed and those still to be finished. There is a regular anvil as well as other large metal pieces for shaping metal. There are buckets of water, ingots of different metals, and even polishing materials thrown around the large yet somehow still full room.

There the sound of a hammer striking metal, a steady, heavy ting ting ting. A man grunts with each sound. He turns around and you gasp. That is not a man.

He's tall, easily another half of a man. Horns curve out of his large furred head and a bull's nose move as he smells the steam; above those large and surprisingly deep blue eyes. His neck is thick and his arms bulge with muscles as he grips the hammer. He wears a thick leather apron to keep his skin safe, but still litle burn marks line his arms. As he steps forward you hear the clip clop of his hooves. He turns to look at Ophelia and his scowl turns into a smile. "Ophelia! So nice to see you. It's been too long since you visiting me in Tartarus. I almost thought Hades had got you." His voice is baritone, regular but higher than one would expect, and softer. "And this is?"

"He's new. He... Doesn't have a name yet. That reminds me, we must discuss that as well. Anyway, he requires some weapons." Ophelia smiles at the Blacksmith and goes forward to hug him.

"Always business with you. Does he have any experience? Preferences? You will definitely need a polearm, sword, and dagger, but anything else will be your choice. You look like you can handle the heavier weapons. What would you prefer for a sword, first of all? One or two handed? Any specific type? We have something of almost everything. Take a look along the walls. Pick out anything you like. Feel free to try it." He speaks so fast you can't respond before he starts onto something else.

You look at the wall the Blacksmith points to, scanning the swords, but something catches your eye. It's in the corner up higher than the rest. You walk over and look over it. It's an arming sword of a regular length, with a plain black covered hilt and  pommel. The cross guard is a thin long diamond shape and the blade is double edged but dull.

"This one. This is the one." You barely hear yourself say it. Yoo careful pick the blade off of the wall and hold it; it's perfectly balanced and its weight compliments you well.

"Now that's an old one. Before my time even. It doesn't look much like my predecessor's work either. It's amazing it's lasted this long. Alright, hand it over to me. I'll make you one." The Blacksmith walks over to you.

"Can't I have this one?" There's something about it. Something about the way your hand fits on it, something about the cool feeling of the leather over the hilt, something about the plain ridge in the middle that just draws you into it.

"I don't see why, but I don't see why not. Are you sure you'd not rather have a new one? I won't sharpen or polish it - that's not my job. Oh well. You must still pick out a dagger and polearm. Other weapons will come later. The Court is a game of time."

[User] The polearm and the dagger

[Assistant]
"You can use the grindstone and I'll give you some whetstones and polishing cloth. Still, you will need a dagger and a polearm of some kind. You look like you would fancy a heavier weapon. Take a look at the wall. I've got a poleaxe that I've recently finished; it's the perfect length for you. Let me get it."

You stare at the walls again, this time at one filled with pole weapons, some leaning against the wall, some packed on shelves, some in actual weapon holders. There are the long pikes that take down calvary lined on shelves at the top. Other weapons have spikes, tongs, flat ends for hammering, large and small points, curved blades, and any combination thereof. The choice between weapon types is dizzying, and even among the individual types there are more variables; weight, length, thickness, curve, even the way the shaft and tip are joined.

You carefully pick up a weapon or two and try them out, a swing, a thrust, a step and a turn. They are unsurprisingly heavy, much heavier than your smaller sword. You place them back, making sure they are not going to fall and cause an avalanche of weapons. You look around a bit. You manage to pick out a few weapons that look good.

The Blacksmith walks back in carrying one of the heavy weapons in one hand like it's nothing and places it on a weapon rack.

Including the weapon the Blacksmith just brought in you've narrowed it down to three: a halberd about your height, with an end that has a long spike at the tip, a small axe on one side and a hook on the opposite, all mounted on a thick and sturdy wood pole; a slightly smaller warhammer with small but brutal looking spike on one side and the flat end for crushing, all on a mix of metal of wood; and the Blacksmith's weapon, a longer glaive, with a long curved blade on the tip and a small hook, on heavy dark wood.

[User] You halberd

[Assistant]
You pick up the halberd and inspect it. It's heavy of course, but you're strong enough for it. The blade is engraved with long intricate lines and designs that circle around the point, connecting to rays from the ax blade and a hatching pattern on the hook.

"The halberd? A good weapon. It looks well suited to you as well, just the right height." The Blacksmith stands beside you, picks up the weapon he brought in, and places it in a rack. "It's a complicated pattern, but a beautiful weapon."

[User] The dagger

[Assistant]
You place your weapons on a table and stare at yet another wall. Again, there's a wide selection but you're getting better at scanning them. The shorter weapons are packed in much tighter in than the others, nearly making you dizzy. You feel a few; the short weapons are light and nimble with sharp edges and points. Though there are many different kinds and variations between all those you decide to narrow it down to just a few of different kinds.

You look along the choices and pick out three again; a cinquedea about a foot long, with a very wide blade that is decorative and an even longer cross guard with a short handle and pommel; a stiletto at the opposite end of the spectrum, with a very thin blade and handle that can easily pierce or find a way through armour; and a baselard, with a thicker blade, thin handle, and no cross guard or pommel to speak of.

[User] The cinquedea

[Assistant]
You reach out and lightly touch the blade of the cinquedea, running your hand over the tip to the fullers and the cross-guard. It softly nips your fingers when you run them over the sharp blade, drawing the tiniest drop of blood. You wipe your hand on your shirt and pick up the dagger. It's light and strangely balanced because of the abnormally wide blade where it connects to the hilt, but already you're getting used to it. You give it a practice thrust, twist it, and pull back.

"That one?" asks the Blacksmith. "Very well. You have great taste, I can tell. It seems just the right one for you. Well, we're done here for now. Armour will wait until later, because we'll have to measure you for each piece, and even then it'll take a while to make. Still, you're set up enough for now. It was nice seeing you Ophelia, and nice to meet you as well."

[User] Back to the lift

[Assistant]
Well that's everything done so far. Not much really.

Overall I'm not very happy with this in any way that counts. The story and characters aren't great so far, there's little to no real choices, and it sort of jumps from one part to another. The only reason I'm submitting it is because it's the most work I've ever done on a story, and I guess that's something to be proud of at least. At the best it's... rambling I guess.

Please tell me what you think.


[System] Narrate a dark fantasy text adventure. The setting is harsh and morally complex. Describe scenes vividly, react to player choices with fitting consequences, and never shy away from the reality of the world.

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
You wake up, but meh.  Who really cares?

You walk out of your chamber, the giant stone echoes with the sounds of your footsteps.  As you exit the hall you gaze upon the worthless denizens of your humble abode.

They all wander around, asking you your opinions of things, but do you care?  Meh, not really.  Another sound catches your ears.  And from out of some random chamber comes a short girl with orange hair.

"Ah, my cherry pie," you say as you kiss her on the forehead.

"Hey, you slept in pretty late!" She says.

"Meh."

"I'm going to go to Cystia today?  Want to join me?" she asks.

"Meh."

"Meh?" she asks.

"Might stay in Discordina today."

"Why?"

"Eh, don't feel like it."

As you continue on, you see more and more people and things you do not care about at all.  Eventually, you make your way down the hall to one of your favorite rooms.

The whirring and clanking of machinery and other things is like music to your ears.  But that's not all.  Ahead, someone covered in scales stands in front of a large machine.  Large and with plenty of metal tubes, each with green liquid running through them.  It is through this invention, and with the help of this green magical essence, you can alter reality itself.  It's called the Deviner, the greatest invention to ever exist.

You step forward to plug yourself in, the large needle like object about to prick through your forehead.  But as you do so, you don't feel the rush of the running green liquid.  In fact all you hear is an odd clunking and churning sound.

Nothing happens, and you frown.

"Damn it!" The scaly dragon man says, "I think something is busted."

You rip the needle out and let it dangle where it sits.  The machinery itself seems to have broken down, collapsed and laying defunct.  The dragon man starts gathering pieces of what machinery he can.  Before you can do anything, he stops you.

"I'll work in this stuff, you should go to Cystia and find some of those magic crystals."

"Why?" you ask.

"Not only did the machinery break, it seems the magic crystal over charged, and sent a surge of magic throughout the liquid.  So it broke down the weaker parts of the Deviner."

You sigh, one of the few things you gave a shit about.

You walk down the worthless halls, pass all the worthless people, and finally reach one of the worthless carriages.  It seems several of them have taken off anyway.

As you sit down, you slump into the comfy seat you had installed in the carriage.  The worthless guy driving it flicks the reigns, causing the worthless horses to go forward.

[User] You destination

[Assistant]
You finally arrive to the bustling land known as Cystia!  As you drive through the wild lands, you see several guards in armor patrolling along the roads.

These stone roads must be new.  Ahead you see three of the guards chasing some furry creature, landing several arrows in its back as it finally goes down.  The guards stand in the middle of the road, one steps forward and raises a hand.  The carriage grinds to a halt.

You look the window as a guard briskly approaches.

"The roads are dangerous, you shouldn't be traveling alone."

"Meh," you shrug your shoulders.

The guard sighs, his tired eyes looking blank for a few moments.

"The beast folk roam these lands," he says, "at least allow a couple of our guards to travel with you."

You shrug your shoulders, and the guard orders two of his underlings to join you in the carriage.

The ride is uneventful, although there are a few minor sights to see along the way.

[User] You town

[Assistant]
It is about noon by the time the carriage reaches the gates of the civilized lands of Cystia.  A few shouts from the guards over the walls, and the heavy wood and iron gates creak open.  The carriage pulls up to a wooden…shack, where a couple of dirty peasants come out to take care of the horses.

You step out of the carriage, and take a look around.  Hopefully some crystals should be somewhere in Cystia…if not you're going to have to make a hike to a very powerful magic users place.  Not that you can get in there, but you'd have to try.

You have to try and figure something out, otherwise you'll never be able to use the Diviner again!

You go to look around that all this portion of Cystia has to offer.  Now where could those magic crystals be?

[User] You lair

[Assistant]
A feeling of intense dread fills you up, making you feel not so warm inside.  You're last trip to this place was….interesting.  After getting painfully banished you decided to ignore the place and just continue on business as usual.

But you NEED to get these crystals, otherwise what will become of your place in Discorina?

It takes hours, but eventually you make your way past the main city, and through the dirt road.  Ahead, the large and dark castle looms over head.  The ashy clouds spewing a host of rain and lightning strikes viciously at the ground.  The stone walls surrounding the castle appear foreboding, several small watchtowers dot the wall.

Dark spires stretching upward, the metal spikes on top of them catching some of the lightning bolts.  As you near the wall, you swear you hear something turning and whirring from deep within the castle, amidst the sound of the storm.

Shivering and trembling you jog over to the castle, hoping you can get what you're looking for, and maybe a place to warm up.

The large wooden gate appears to be shut, you didn't expect it to just be wide open though.  You grab the rope on the side and pull it with all of your might.  The large bell connected to it rings out its horrid tune.

As you stand, soaked and cold, the door slowly opens but just a bit.  Taking a step forward you squint at the opening.

"Who's there?" a voice says, "Ford?  Is that you?"

"Yep," you say.

"Ha, you know you're not allowed here."

"I'm just here for some magic crystals…nothing else," you say.

"I think that would be going against the rules…remember what happened last time you were here?"

"Can you at least let me in from the cold, please," you say, "wouldn't it be nice?"

The door opens more, and the source of the voice steps out.  A tall man, hair shaved and clean shaven, he smiles.  But there is something else to that smile, it's not exactly coming from a place of hospitality.

"Sure," he chuckles, "this should be interesting."

"Thanks," you say as you walk past him.

You enter the tunnel that eventually leads to the door…which you find to be open.  Walking in like you own the place, you take a look around.  The large keep appears empty…as far as you can tell.

The winds of the storm buffets against the castle, it almost obscures the sound of your soft steps as you traverse across the large keep.

Wandering down the halls, you stop suddenly as you hear something.

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Shrugging your shoulders you continue, must have just been your imagination.

The halls twist and wind, and you feel as lost as ever.  How did you ever navigate this place in the short time you had spent here?

That darn Sorceress must be around here somewhere, she must have some magic crystals.  But where could she be?

[User] You spire

[Assistant]
You start with the most obvious place, the spire that she lives in.  As you pass a few rooms, you hear a strange sound coming from one of them…meh. You continue on, not caring about what is very likely one of the many strange noises you will be hearing tonight.

After going up several sets of stairs, you come to one that narrows and….spirals as you go up it.  After several minutes you find yourself at the top, amidst a huge library.  You walk through the place, eerily quiet.

"Ax…Ax!" you shout.

Nothing.  Eventually you find a bed, a desk, and some table meant to magic things or whatever it is she does.  Having no interest in anything that could be stashed in here, you continue on your way.

Where else could you look?


[System] Narrate a grim fantasy text adventure. The Empire's world is brutal, its people hardened. Respond to the player's choices with immersive storytelling and let consequences flow naturally.

[User] You return to the sea

[Assistant] You decide to return to the sea and need to decide where you serve. You can join Midshipman Peter Heywood aboard the HMS Queen Charlotte or you could join Boatswain's Mate James Morrison aboard the HMS Blenheim or you could join Carpenter's Mate Charles Norman aboard the HMS Duke or you can join Seaman William Muspratt aboard the HMS Bellerophon.

[User] You join Heywood

[Assistant]
You serve with Heywood for twenty-two years on various ships, watching him rise to the rank of Captain. You are with him on the Glorious First of June when the French fleet is defeated off Ushant and in the Invasion of the River Plate in 1806. After a long and distinguished service you both retire from the sea in 1816. Fifteen years later your friend dies in London. By that time you have learned what happened to the Bounty and its missing nine Mutineers, including Fletcher Christian.

In 1808 an American ship, the Topaz, happens upon isolated Pitcairn Island. There the sailors are astonished to discover a thriving Tahitian Community ruled over by one man: John Adams. He is the sole survivor of the nine Mutineers and six Natives who landed on that island and variously killed each other or died of illness leaving Adams patriarch of a thriving community of forty-six people. The Admiralty decides against taking any action.

John Adams, the King of Pitcairn Island, dies in 1829.


[System] Narrate a grim fantasy text adventure. The Empire's world is brutal, its people hardened. Respond to the player's choices with immersive storytelling and let consequences flow naturally.

[User] You do it yourself

[Assistant]
Maybe Reynolds has confidence in this guy, but you're not so sure especially at the price that's being charged. If it was Henry, you'd be fine with it because at least you know what he can do. Too bad you hurt his feelings, who knew psychopaths had them?

"I think I'm going to have to take a pass, Mr. Reynolds, but I thank you for your time." You say.
"Oh. Okay then. Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me. If you don't , well good luck to you." Mr. Reynolds says.

You walk out of Mr. Reynolds' office and head back home. There's nothing else for it. You're going to have to do this yourself. Good thing you've still got a few shady connections who can get you some proper weapons for this fight, because to be honest you don't want to have to be rolling around in the sewers with Camid as you try shoving daggers in each other's faces. It wasn't pleasant when you did it with Tom and you didn't particularly get any enjoyment when you had to do it to Klint. Being a killer isn't something you ever really desired doing, but it's something that you've found necessary in this line of work.

Might be why you saw the wisdom of following Zal's advice and decided to get the hell out. Of course you're hoping you're going to get out. You just have to do this one last thing.

When you return to the inn, you inform Zal and Vaughn of what happened.

"So, I guess it's one last job then?" Vaughn remarks.
"Looks like it, if we're going to all live happily ever after." You say.
"Well, I guess it has to be done." Zal remarks.

You look over at Zal and touch her hand.

"Zal, you don't need to come when this goes down. I mean someone should be here to hold down the fort anyway." You say.
"How the hell can you even say that? Look, it's sweet that you're obviously concerned about me, but I'm a big girl and this whole thing was something I talked you into in the first place. So I can't just let you risk your life for this by yourself. We're all in this together. Besides, you're going to need all the help you can get." Zal says.

You know Zal is not going to budge on this, so you just accept it. She's right as usual anyway.

"Okay. Well let's start talking strategy." You say.

You tell Vaughn that you need to be certain where Camid and the rest are going to be setting up shop in the sewers. You all think that Camid is going to be predictable and set up in the old location, but you want to be sure, because you need to wipe them all out.

The next step is to acquire some repeating crossbows and even some protective armor. Granted if Camid's crew end up packing flintlocks, it might not matter, but it's better to be safe in this instance.

You spend a small fortune on gearing up for this hit. In fact by the time you get everything you think you'll need, it would have been cheaper to hire Junior, but then you know there would have been a catch. With Mr. Reynolds there is always a catch.

You, Zal, Vaughn and the rest of the old guard that was loyal spend some time practicing for the big event. In the meantime, Camid has indeed set up in the old location. He's also been busy recruiting more folks too. You have no idea if he's planning to hit you soon or he's just trying to gather strength, but in any case, you can't waste too much more time. You need to strike soon.

You make plans to hit Camid during one of the "slower business" days. Last thing you want is having to deal with crowds of bum fight bystanders and whores while you're trying to kill Camid and his crew.

The night before the reckoning, you and Zal spend a good portion of time together as a husband and wife do, since neither of you knows if you're going to survive.

Funny that up until now, both of you spent most your lives practically dismissive of the ongoing possibility of death. This is different though. As Zal said, this is the "finish line."

Then the days comes. You know Camid's folks are more active at night, so it'll be best to hit them during the day when some of them are probably still half hung over. You all get prepared, descend down into the sewers and make your way to your location.

It's actually been a while since you've gone slinking around in the darkness, but you and your group try to remain as stealthy as you can. You manage to get well within the new Crimson Talon territory before one of the members suddenly stumbles upon you.

"Hey, you're not...Urgh!" A Talon says before being interrupted by a bolt to the neck.

You manage to dispatch a few more Talons in relative silence before one of the Yellow Devil junkie whores wandering around starts screaming her head off. It isn't even about you either.

"GET OFF! GET OFF! NO! HALFLINGS! HALFLINGS ALL OVER ! THEY'RE COMING TO GET ME AGAIN! OUCH! HEHEHEHE!"

The whore's insane ramblings are so loud it calls wanted attention, and by the time you put a bolt in her head to shut her up, your presence has been discovered and a major alarm has already been raised.

"Shit! We're being attacked! Get your gear! Move! Move!" One of the Talons shouts.

At this point stealth is discarded altogether and all out battle takes place.

To their credit, Camid and what remains of the Talons don't try to run away. They're determined to fight it out, so at least you won't have to chase any of them down.

Camid had the same idea as you did and invested in more weapons. You learn this first hand when a firebomb is lobbed at you and you have to dive out of the way and into foul waters. The noise is deafening as the explosion echoes throughout the sewers. You barely have time to find more suitable cover when you see several Talons running out from an archway firing flintlock pistols at you. Thankfully their aim isn't great.

Still clutching your own weapon, you manage let loose several more bolts and catch a Talon in the process. You then trip over something and after scrambling to get back up you realize you've got blood all over you. It isn't yours however, it's part of one of your people you was blown apart by the bomb. You just tripped over his bloody torso.

A slight panic comes over you not because of the obvious reasons, but more because you've lost track of where everyone else is, namely Zal.

A Talon comes screaming at you with a sword raised above his head, and you shoot him twice in the chest, but he keeps coming. He gets close enough for you to see him foaming yellow shit from his mouth and blood coming from his eyes. The guy's on Devil.

You dodge the wild sword swing, trip the drug addled fool to the stone floor and then stomp the back of his head with your boot. A life ending crunch is heard and he's finally stopped.

You rush back to where you hear the rest of the fighting. Another firebomb goes off in the distance followed by someone screaming. Another one of your people, though you don't know who yet.

You finally get back to the sewer cross way near where the bum fights are held and that's when you see Vaughn on the floor attempting to tie up his bloody leg. It's in pretty bad shape.

"Camid ran into the old Talon barracks, I think Zal went after him." He says grimacing in pain.

You immediately leave Vaughn and run to the Talon barracks. You see a dead body on the floor and then another slumped over the bed. You cautiously go through the room and then head into where you used to have your old office. Then your heart sinks.

You see Zal on the floor with several wounds on her body. Some are from the dagger still in her stomach, another is a gunshot to the upper chest. The armor wasn't enough and despite her still struggling to stay alive you already know she's going to die soon.

"(Cough) Good...you're a...live...I got that bast..ard..." She coughs and points over to another body in the corner which is Camid's. His brains are blown out through his eye socket and partially on the wall.

You run over to her apologizing and on the verge of tears. You knew something like this was going to happen. If only you'd done something different.

Zal however in her dying breaths tells you it's not your fault and at least she got to enjoy her time with you while she was here.

"Just...go live your life...okay?" Zal says before finally closing her eyes forever.

Right now, part of you doesn't feel like living your life is going to be worth it without her around. You know you'll eventually get over this and move on, but it's not going to be for a long time.


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
You wake up in your cabin in the woods. You sit up and scratch some fleas that have infested your body. You also realize its still daylight. You hate waking up early.

You lope into the bathroom and look in the mirror where you see a canine face covered in gray fur, you remember a time when your fur was completely brown.

"You're getting old Wolf" you say to yourself like you always do while trying to look on the bright side that at least you don't have the mange. You think you'd just put a silver bullet in your head if you ever started to go bald.

After eating some left over mutton in the fridge and some Gummy Blobs (for the sugar "pick me up") you ponder how you're going to pay this month's rent on your cabin. You call your agent Erik and see if that little pissant has found any work for you. Hopefully it's an actual job and not just a guest speaker spot at a comic convention.

"Erik! It's me Wolf! Pick up the fucking phone! I know you're there!" you say when you get the answering machine.

"Erik! Get on the phone NOW, or I'm gonna go over there and shove a pipe organ up your ass!"

That got his attention.

"Wolf, I'm sorry, but I fear I'm in a deep depression."
"What else is new? Look I need some work, got anything? I don't even care if it's straight to video. I just need some of the green stuff!"
"Sadly, I don't think I do, but then I haven't really checked…I'm so depressed. I've been wondering if I made the right decisions in my life…and now it's too late for me to do anything about it, because I'm old…"
"Join the fucking club Erik! Look do you…"
"But my art, my music, that is my love and its failing me again. My latest opera isn't doing well. I wonder if I chose the wrong thing to love and pursue. Just like I did with Christine. Oh Christine WHY couldn't you have loved me? I loved you…"

Wonderful, he's in full blown tortured artist mode. He can go on like this forever. You can either give up, or persist in getting something out of him.

[User] You persist

[Assistant]
"Oh boo fucking hoo, your latest Opera hasn't been doing too well lately. At least people are paying to see the goddamn thing! As bad of a composer, and musician you are, you oughta be glad anyone's even paying to see the goddamn thing! People don't want to see anything with me in it! And at least you've got another job to fall back on LIKE BEING AN AGENT THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING ME A FUCKING JOB!" you snarl.

There's some dead air briefly and then Erik begins talking again.

"You're right. I shouldn't be complaining about my problems to you. You of course know all about torment. A war that wages within you, a beast that…"
"Erik I've got no time and I'm in no mood to hear how we're supposed to be kindred spirits, you just better tell me you found something for me and it better not be another guest speaker spot at a comic convention!"
"Well let's see…I dunno. Werewolves aren't popular anymore you know…there might be something…here it is! It's called Wolf Pack."
"Pack? That implies more than one wolf on the set there Erik. Well I suppose I can share the spotlight with some others. As long as I'm in charge of course." You say.
"Er…well according to this, you'd be the old cranky grandpa wolf that makes a bunch of rude remarks."
"What?! What kind of stupid shit is that?"
"Yeah that's the stuff." Erik replies not catching on.
"I mean what the hell kind of movie is this?"
"Its uh…let's see…oh here. It's a horror comedy about a werewolf family and how they
adjust to human society. Looks like you'll be playing with a lot of young pups as you'd call them."
"WHAT?! NO! What the fuck Erik? I'm a fucking monster not something to be fucking laughed at! And they already did a movie like that a long time ago and it sucked!"
"Well that's all I got. Maybe you could talk to the director to make changes since they also wrote it. I'm sure you and her are familiar with each other. You had an affair with her for quite some time."
"Uh, you wanna narrow that list down Erik?"
"It's Mary. You know, the one who used to be married to Frankie, until your affair broke up both of your marriages?"

Erik's new information didn't exactly make you any more enthusiastic to want to take the job.

[User] You take the job anyway

[Assistant]
"Alright I'll take the job, just tell me where its at." You say.

After Erik gives you the information, you ride your Harley to the studio.

When you arrive on the set, you see a bunch of snot nosed wolflings hanging around trying to look "tough". Some of them are in human form, but you can smell them for who they truly are though. These cubs today, you swear they would've never lasted back in the old days. All flash and nothing to back it up. (Though you don't mind looking at the young females that are there) That's why they hang out in packs. You never did that even when you were young. You were always a lone wolf.

"Hey who's the fossil?" one of them asks.
"Hey Grandpa, the remake of Old Yellow is next door!"

This causes a howl of laughter from all of them, until you confront the one who said it. Probably the leader no doubt. Not even in wolf form. Pathetic.

"I'm going to give you time to transform into a more adequate fighting form before I neuter you." You calmly explain.
"You? You're like 300 years old! I could take…"

Can't say you didn't give him a chance.

You immediately pounce on him, knocking him down while clamping your jaws on his face and digging your fangs in.

"HOLY SHIT DUDE!" one of them shouts.
"Oh my god he's killing him!" a female screams.
"Get him off of him, get him off of him!"

While them all attempt to pull you off of their leader you hear a familiar voice that gets your attention.

"Well, I see Erik passed my script over to you, good. I'm also glad to see you're still as anti-social as usual Wolf." Mary says as you finally get off of your misguided heckler and approach her. She still looks the same, though she looks a lot better now that she got rid of that hair style she used to have and dyed it blonde.
"Just re-establishing the proper hierarchy, nothing more."
"Hmm, always the Alpha Male, that was what I always loved about you. So primal. Maybe later I can dress in a little red cloak and we can reenact a fairy tale."
"Some fairy tale, as I remember you loved a lot of beings."
"Hey I can't help who I am. I was created this way."
"Just like Frankie eh?"
"Don't you compare me to that sicko! Yes we are controlled by our genetics to a certain degree, but as you damn well know I rose above them! I made my own identity. I'm a successful director and writer now, so what if I have a healthy sexual appetite? There's nothing wrong with that, I'm sure you'd agree given all the beings you had your way with before, after and DURING your marriage!"
"Look never mind all that. I got a real problem with this film." You say side stepping her correct accusation.
"What's wrong with it?"
"What's wrong with it? Are you kidding me? It sucks! It makes a mockery of werewolves! You even named one of them fucking Benji!"
"Well comedy is popular now. Plus children like monsters just as long as they aren't too scary, so I was hoping to make it a family film."
"ARRGH! I don't DO family films! This is insulting and demeaning!"
"How? Come on Wolf. In most horror movies you've made you always got killed in the end by a human, how was that any less demeaning?"
"Because at least I was portrayed as feared monster that killed a bunch of people! I can play ball with the humans and their idealistic notion of good always having to overcome evil and all that…but THIS! This makes me into a fucking joke! I can't even believe you of all people wrote this…no wait I can. You fucking undead don't have any consideration for anyone, but yourselves."
"You know I'm technically not even undead, I'm created from several dead bodies. I'm more of a golem." Mary attempts to correct you.
"Who gives a shit, you're still basically a walking corpse, and your flesh is dead. You're Undead in my book."
"You know for someone who hasn't been able to find a job in months and is basically just rotting away in his little cabin, you'd think that you'd be a little more appreciative. I wrote this with you in mind you hairy bigoted asshole!"

You don't know whether to take that as an insult or as an attempt for her to try to make amends for the past.

[User] You take it as an insult

[Assistant]
"So you had me in mind eh? Well that proves it. You think I'm a joke because that's how you wrote the character."
"What? No! I just…"
"I see your time with that bloodsucker was well spent. Learning how to exploit and leech right? Look maybe you can pull this shit with those puppies over there, but I ain't fucking one! I don't need the money that badly. I'll go fucking live my twilight years in the forest and DIE there as nature probably intended. I don't need this shit."

As you turn to leave, Mary shouts at you.

"Yeah, that's right go on leave Mr. Lone Wolf! You'll fucking die alone, you stubborn bastard! I tried to help you! Erik tried to help you and you don't appreciate any of it! That's why none of your children speak to you and…"

You run back over to her and slam her into the wall. You stare at her face to face as she struggles to get free. She's strong, but you manage to keep her pinned. She really pissed you off and you were already pissed off to begin with.

"Fuck you, and fuck Erik! You two don't know shit about me, never did. I'm through with the pair of you! In fact I think I'll be taking something with me since you're so worried about me being alone…"

You release Mary and go over to the wolflings who look a little worried that you're going to cause harm to them. Many of them cast their eyes downward.

"Hey, you want to be REALLY tough? You want to really raise some hell? Come with me. If you want to stay under the thumb of this patchwork dead bitch and be exploited and mocked, stay here.

Your statement alone convinces all of them. They all follow you, even the one you made an example of. Mary attempts to call everyone back, but it's useless, you've taken control of the pack and they'll do what you want now.

And right now you want to get into a fight. You think about all the people and creatures that wronged you in some way and only two of them keep coming to mind consistently.

One is that fucking Dr. Victor Frankenstein. If it wasn't for him, Frankie and Mary wouldn't have been created in the first place which also means you wouldn't have gotten yourself into trouble all those years ago. You wouldn't have had to put up with his "children" taking jobs away from you. Not to mention he sued you once.

But the one who you REALLY despise, is that bisexual bloodsucker. Fucking Dracula or Vlad, or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days. The disgust you have for him and the reasons are too numerous to list here.

[User] You go kick Victor's ass

[Assistant]
Your recent dealings with Mary, have made you think about all the shit you've had to put up with from that no talent dickhead. No human has ever given you such trouble. You know he's still alive. (Mad scientists always find ways of prolonging their lives somehow) That won't be true for long though, if you get your way. You killed him once before. This time you're going to make sure he stays that way.

He's probably got whatever crappy inventions and experiments protecting his castle and from what you know, Frankie's still living with his "Dad" as well.

You don't give a fuck, you'll kill him too. You figure you'll be doing the world a favor as well as getting some satisfaction. Besides, you've got to show these wolflings what being a werewolf is all about.

"All right you cubs! We're going to go raise some fucking hell. We're going to Frankenstein's Castle. We're going to rip the place apart brick by brick, and I'M going to rip Victor apart limb from limb."
"Erm…Castle Frankenstien? Isn't that where Frankie lives?" one of the wolflings asks.
"I heard he's really powerful, didn't he fight Dracula and win?"
'I dunno if we should mess with him."

You can't believe your ears! These snot nosed pups know nothing of their heritage! Back in the old days they would've been killed and eaten for such cowardice!

"Goddammit are you Wolves or fucking Chihuahuas? Frankie's a fucking pussy! I personally kicked his ass before and I'll do it again all by myself if I have too! Now are you going to run with me and be a fucking Wolf or are you going to go back home with your tails tucked between your legs?"

After looking at each other for awhile they all agree to go with you.

"Good! Now I want all of you to transform into your wolf form too! I'm traveling with fellow wolves not humans!"

Just before one of the females begins to transform, you stop her. She's dressed in a short leather skirt and a tight white t-shirt that's tied in the center and has long flowing brown hair. You can smell that she's in heat. You hate to coin a pun, but she literally is one hot l'il bitch.

"Erm, not you. You stay in your human form; I kind of like the whole teenage slut look you got going on. In fact you come here right now; you'll be traveling on my bike with me." You say.

As she slides in behind you and holds on, you ask her one more question.

"So what's your name?"
"Ginger. What's your name, you never did tell us."
"Wolf. Just Wolf baby. Remember it. You'll be screaming it later."

Damn you're so fucking cool, you think as you start up your Harley and ride ahead of the pack.

(You'd probably be even cooler if these pups weren't all riding those Japanese "crotch rocket" bikes, but that'll have to be another lesson for another day)

After a couple of days of riding, and a few "pit stops" with Ginger, you all eventually reach Castle Frankenstein. You park your bikes at the gate, and size the place up, which now looks a lot different. It looks like a damn Nazi fortress now, there's guard towers and everything. It seems Victor has been keeping himself very busy in recent years.

As it begins to rain, a familiar voice calls to you from one of the towers.

"Its you. Vic always knew you'd return one day. I never believed him though. I guess I owe him fifty bucks."

You look up and see Igor, he looks different too. He has a lot of clumsy cybernetic implants, one of them being some sort of gun in place of an arm. More of Vic's "handy work" no doubt. He's still got that damn hump on his back though.

"Igor? You still alive? I thought your ungrateful master would've just let you die of old age and get himself another assistant. I see he did a real good job of improving you though. Tell me, how's it feel to be the real brains, never getting the credit and continuing to be a doormat?"
"I'm happy with my lot in life. How's it feel to be broke ass overgrown dog who's trying to relive his lost youth?" Igor retorts back.
"Don't know yet. I'll tell you before I shove that metal arm up your ass."

Well looks like the fight's starting here.

[User] You attempt to climb over the gate before Igor can get off a shot

[Assistant]
In your prime you would've been able to scale the gate, climb the tower and rip Igor's head off all without getting hit.

Unfortunately you aren't in your prime anymore. Igor's having trouble aiming his awkward arm-gun, but with as many bullets as it pumps out he doesn't need to be completely accurate. While you're attempting to climb over the gate he hits you several times.

Naturally those bullets are silver.

You crash to the wet ground with a loud CLANK! sound, as the rest of the pack go running away with their tails between their legs.


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] You say "No, we'll take the path that was suggested. Let's get going."

[Assistant]
Miller nods. "Alright. We don't know of any outposts in those woods, so we should be able to get through undetected." With those words, the three of you continue on to the woods. You walk through the fields without incidence, and get to the edge of the forest in record time.

The three of you march through it, keeping an eye out. You're there for about an hour, continuing to march on, when you hear voices up ahead. The three of you stop in your tracks and get down low, listening. The voices are speaking Kishak. You turn to face your companions. "Can I get a translation?" you ask.

Iris nods, and listens to the voices. Her face goes pale. "... They're talking about how boring it is to be in an outpost in the middle of the woods." You and Miller share a look of surprise, then turn to face the direction of the voices again. A new outpost, one that the military didn't know about.

Miller pipes up. "We go around it as slowly and carefully as we can."

Iris shakes her head. "It can't be that many. We go in there and light them up."

Looks like it's up to you to decide what to do.

[User] You we'll go around like Miller suggested.

[Assistant]
You shake your head at Iris. "That's a damn stupid idea. We go around it like Miller suggested, keep low to the ground. If we're lucky, they won't see us."

Miller nods in approval, while Iris scoffs. The three of you keep low as you move to head around the voices. As you push through the greenery, you notice the outpost. It's large and well-fortified; surprising, considering its location. Must be some sort of well-kept or something of the sort. There's a dozen Kishak soldiers wandering around, keeping an eye out.

The three of you continue walking. There's a few times when you're sure you'll be spotted, but soon enough you manage to move far away enough from the outpost that you can walk normally again. Your team releases a collective sigh of relief that you're out of there. The three of you continue through the forest without incident.

After a few hours of walking, you arrive at Ornislov a couple of hours into the night. The city is more like a giant fortress, surrounded by walls on all sides with no obvious entry points aside from the gates. Miller leads you around the city walls, to a sewer grate. "This is how we got in last time. Come on, get in." You and Iris crawl through the grate as Miller holds it open. He climbs in after you, shutting it.

Iris summons a fireball in her hand, keeping it held out to illuminate the area. The sewer tunnel stretches on for what seems like miles. There's a few latters every couple of yards, likely leading up into the city streets. Miller takes the lead again, walking past several ladders until he stops in front of one. "This is it. Above is a warehouse, where all the supplies are kept. There's guards around, so we'll have to take them out."

You and Iris nod. "Let's go."


[System] You are the narrator of a dark fantasy text adventure. Describe the world and its consequences with unflinching detail. The player's choices shape the story — for better or worse.

[User] You pull the spear

[Assistant]
With as much strength as you can, you pull the spear from the man's grasp. It puts you a little off balance, which is enough for the man with his other hand to swing his with the knife and plunge it into your foot before pulling it out again.

You scream in pain and lose complete balance and fall to the floor dropping your spear.

Jack has recovered by this point to help, but the man sits up and throws his knife into Jack's stomach. Jack falls to the floor, dropping his axe and stopped from being able to help you.

Meanwhile you're attempting to recover from your wounded foot, and sit up just in time to see the man stagger and stumble over to pick up the spear. Upon seeing how severely wounded Jack is, and your own injury you begin to panic. Not enough to run, but also not enough to make the best decisions.

You limp over to the man in an attempt to cave his head in with the shield, but thanks to your foot, you aren't really the fastest. The man dodges your attempt by falling back to the floor, but with the spear now in his hand, from his prone position he manages to thrust it into your side.

You cry out and fall. The agony of your wounds is overwhelming now and you can barely stand it. Actually you can't stand it at all and your body feels like it's going into shock, like all the energy is leaving you.

You weakly attempt to put your shield up to defend yourself when you see the man hover above you, but you don't have the strength just tears. He knocks the shield aside and finishes you off by spearing your throat.


[System] Narrate an interactive dark fantasy adventure. The world is brutal and unforgiving. Respond to the player's actions with vivid, immersive descriptions and let their choices carry real weight.

[User] You leave

[Assistant]
Something was off to you, you regretted this contact with this spirit completely. Not because of fear or annoyance, but with a feeling of shame that stuck onto you like a foul stench.

Slowly but surely without a word, you lifted your dead legs as you made your way back onto your commute on the sidewalk towards your school. You didn't want to look back, and you didn't.

This was the encounter that you had regretted the most out of every single one of them from before. What irritated you was how tame it was, but it was for that reason that made you feel even the more terrible. You were expecting a horrible spirit all along, and your assumptions of what was to come through you off so bad in which now you didn't expect it at all.

As you continue to walk, you leave the spirit behind in the distance from what you can tell.

You don't plan on interacting with anymore any time soon.

[User] Weeks pass

[Assistant]
A week after the encounter with the girl on the road, and your health started to deteriorate rapidly.

It started when you vomited in class, causing you to be sent home from the day. You missed the first few days out of shame and embarrassment for the unexpected bile, but as more passed you couldn't go to school even if you wanted too.

It takes a large amount of energy to do even the simplest of things such as walking around or going downstairs to eat dinner. Your mom who was extremely worried about your worsening condition, made an appointment to get you checked out by a doctor as soon as she could have it done. Though you honestly wished your mom had just taken you straight to the emergency room, as you weren't exaggerating when you said that you wouldn't last until the doctor's appointment.

As it would have it, it seemed like that would be the case. During one of your usual days of resting in bed while your mom was at work, your eyes got heavy and you slowly shut them while thinking you would take a pretty quick nap before your mom was to get home.

You never woke up.