[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 expand inside Holgard

[Assistant]
Everything else aside, Vera did have point about Wart's plan which doesn't seem very efficient. If anything engaging in more banditry on the roads to Holgard might cause the government to increase security so trade isn't hampered.

Better you should stick to things that won't directly fuck with the government too much directly and Vera already has experience in the whole slave market thing so you're confident she'll know how to run it properly.

The only thing you do have concerns about is…well the whole slavery thing. You don't profess to be a saint of Joachim, but this seems a bit too far even for you. You aren't even sure where you're going to be getting these slaves from in the first place.

Since she's the expert, you decide to have another discussion with Vera about all this before making a final decision, but not right now. You figure after what happened you probably should wait a bit before seeing her again.

The next day you meet with her in your office again and she seems surprised that you're entertaining her idea.

"Wow, I just thought after yesterday, you weren't interested. Well this is great, you'll see!" Vera remarks.
"Well I'm still going to need convincing if this is something we need to get into. So you'll need to persuade me why this is worth pursuing AND I don't mean with your body." You say.
"Very well. What did you have concerns with exactly?"
"Warts mentioned that keeping captives costs coin. I mean how much are we going to be spending to keep them before selling them?"
"Oh, not that much. Really all you have to do is provide the bare minimum most of the time."
"But doesn't that sort of decrease the quality?"
"Yes if enough time passes, but that's why you try to sell as quickly as possible. Obviously women typically sell for a lot more than men and they sell faster."
"So where are we getting these slaves anyway?"
"Well back when I was working for Elias, we usually nabbed people off the street. Get 'em drunk at a tavern. Trick 'em into a dark alley. Y'know like robbing someone except instead of taking just their money, you take them too. Sometimes we bought them off of Hessla pirates and sold them for a higher profit to someone else. I'll have to get re-connect with my Hessla contacts before we can do that though."

You look down a bit and frown.

"What's wrong?" Vera asks.
"I dunno, maybe this is just not something I feel comfortable with."
"Wait a minute. You've got a moral quandary about THIS too? If I didn't know any better I'd start thinking I had joined Joachim's church!"
"Look, I told you that YOU needed to convince me. So convince me."
"Okay so what are you having a problem with exactly? Wait, let me guess. It's the whole sex thing isn't it? Geez, you got some weird hang ups about sex."
"Well that IS what these women are going to be sold for right?"
"How is that different than the brothels we run?"
"It's a big fucking difference! For one, the whores at least have a say in things."
"Does it make a difference that some of the guys are probably used for fuck holes too?"
"Not really."
"Okay, then would it make a difference if ALL the slaves were just being used to go get worked to death in some iron mine?"
"Well…at least I'd feel like we were at least contributing to the economy in some way as opposed to just feeling like we're running one big rape factory."
"Oh and I suppose our protection rackets and our Purple Wish dens are great contributions to society as well."
"Call it my own twisted sense of honor, but at least our extortion of businesses isn't completely one sided. I mean we ARE offering protection. Also we're not shoving Purple Wish down anyone's throat. If people want to get high, we're providing a product. If people want to be idiots and get addicted well that's on them. Our gambling places work the same way. Nobody is forcing anyone to go into debt."
"Hmm, maybe not, but I still think we should re-open a slave market. Sex slaves are just too profitable to not get into."
"Well wait a minute. What about fighting slaves? Y'know slaves that fight each other and people bet on who wins."
"You mean like for underground gladiator matches? Eh…yeah we bought a few of pit slaves once and it didn't go so well. You want to talk about upkeep, those bastards need upkeep because you need to keep them in good condition for a potential buyer. Not to mention on almost every occasion they tried to escape or kill one of us. One of them actually succeeded in killing four people under Elias before being subdued. I don't think it's worth it and I find it funny that you're perfectly okay with that brand of slavery as opposed to the sexual kind. You really are a prude aren't you?"
"Maybe I am, but I'm also still not entirely convinced of the upkeep costs being low. I mean if we're going to go into this, I would prefer our slaves to be known as being good quality and not half starving and dirty."
"Well if you're worried about that, we could always stick to children."
"Children?!"
"Sure! We used to sell more than a few back in the old days and they're really low upkeep and easy to nab as well."

You're done.

"No. We are NOT capturing and selling fucking kids! THAT is where I'm drawing the damn line. In fact I'm thinking this whole thing is a bad idea." You say.
"So…what then? You're going to go with Wart's idea?" Vera asks.
"No, that's retarded for different reasons. I'm going with my own idea. We're going to hold underground gladiator matches."
"I thought you said we weren't getting into slaves."
"We aren't, this will all be voluntary. Plenty of stupid assholes that are willing to try to prove they're tough for a bit of coin. If they get themselves killed, well that's on them and either way, we don't need to worry about keeping anyone in good condition, unless we're fixing a particular fight. Hell, we could also use people that are falling behind in their debts to participate rather than breaking their legs. So no slaves needed."
"I dunno, if we're pressing potential deadbeats into fights, that's sort of like enslaving them isn't it?"
"Okay, maybe it is, but at least we're just trying to make our money back from said deadbeat as opposed to snatching some hapless girl off the streets."
"Well we could always apply this to our brothel whores too. I mean if a whore doesn't make enough money for the month then she gets her ass thrown into slavery for slacking off."

You never knew that Vera is REALLY into this whole slave trade business. Though you suppose given that she worked as one for so long, it makes sense she wants to stick with it. You're not going to hold it against her, but you've definitely realized that you've still got some scruples, scant though they may be.

"We're not peddling sex slaves of any kind, Vera. That's it." You say.
"You sure you're in the right business, boss?" Vera asks.
"I could always cut your head off and let you decide."
"Okay, okay, no need for threats, I know you're a badass. It's just that I'm finding out that you're strangely principled in ways that I'm not used to in our line of work. I guess maybe that's a good thing. Shows you aren't some complete psycho I suppose."
"Oh, I wouldn't jump to that conclusion, but at least you can take comfort in the fact that IF you ever fail me, I'm not going to have you stripped naked and sell your ass to pirates."
"Well that's one less thing to worry about at least."

After going over some more details, you tell Vera to gather up a crew and start setting things up. It isn't what she exactly envisioned she'd be doing, but then she's not running things.

A few months pass and you're making a good amount of coin with this new venture and you can take a little relief that there's still some things you aren't going to do even in your position…

"Hey boss, I got some hobs from da Spider Fangs dat wanna join the fights tonight." Warts says.
"Really? Thought you told me the Spider Fangs shun human civilization centers." You say.
"Eh, ever since dey got their asses kicked hard by da elves and lost a good portion of the tribe, there's been sum serious re-thinkin' on how things are gonna work now. Anyway, just wunderin' if they can join."
"Well sure, we always got room. In fact why are you coming to me about it, and not Vera anyway?"
"Well I did, an' she told me to come ta youz cuz youz might object to sum of dem."
"What would I object to, I'm no racist."
"Nah, not dat. It's just a few of dem are young teenagers and Vera said youz might have a problem with dat."
"Oh."

Before you can give a more thorough answer a small ugly green child wanders in behind Warts. You don't know how old it is, but it can't be older than a toddler.

"Wargh! blag! Graaah!" it shouts causing Warts to turn around.
"Damnit, Gubbins! I told ya ta wait in da corridor!" Warts reprimands the child.
"Warts, I'll admit I'm not completely familiar with the growth size of hobgoblins, but I know damn well that's no teenager."
"Wut? No! Dis one ain't fightin', well at least not for another few years anyway. Dis iz my son."

Now you're just confused.

"Your son? When the hell did you have a kid?" you ask.
"Two years ago I guess. Didn't know for an entire year either since I hadn't been back ta visit Snuffit in awhile. Boy wuz she pissed at me when I returned. Anyway, he's sort of with me for awhile since Snuffit says I should be spendin' time him. She's probably right. It's hard growin' up with no father." Warts says with a bit of an introspective look down.
"Hm, I suppose you would know about that. You never told me all this about having a family and shit."
"Didn't think you'd be interested given how youz got yer mind on other things. Got a daughter too, Zuggins. Twins actually. That's another reason why Snuffit wuz so pissed at me. Hey, didn't youz say you were a twin?"
"Yeah. So about these other hobs…"
"Um, yeah, they're fighting age to be sure. An' remember these are hobgoblin children that have been livin' in da wild all their lives. I guarantee they've all probably killed already."
"I suppose that's true. Do their parents know about this?"
"I think most of dem are orphans due to the feud with da elves an' they're here to either start a new life or tryin' ta make some coin for da tribe."

You think about this a few moments and then throw up your hands.

"Fuck it, if they wanna fight. Not gonna stop them. Anyway, go talk to Vera about the match details of who to pair them up against." Actually you should get her to set them up with an elven opponent if possible. Should incite a little more bloodthirst."

Warts nods and leaves with his spawn who sticks his tongue at you.

You snicker a bit at the thought of Warts having a couple kids, but you suppose he seems happy with them. You're just glad you aren't saddled with any; you've got enough complications in your life.

Then again with the curse you have, that isn't likely to ever be a problem.

[User] You time passes...

[Assistant]
Year 27

While conflict can be good for business, there sometimes is a point when it starts becoming a hindrance. Especially when the wrong side is winning.

"The Joachimites are starting to break this stalemate and win this religious war you know. The Yagites are gone and so are the followers of Karn. The Dornans are still around, but they've decided to just put up a force field around their temple and ride it all out. That just leaves the Temple of Fel and rumors are that they expended a lot of their power taking down the Karnites." Vera says.
"Dey ain't gonna last long against dem purity fanatics. They're worse than those Neroth cultists were and there is a lot more of dem." Warts adds.
"Yeah, an' more people are starting to join. Maybe not in their fighting ranks, but that isn't our problem. What IS our problem is these folks are the same ones preaching for purity and living a clean life to everyone. We're going to start having serious complications if they win and have complete influence over the city as the only religion."

The concerns that Vera and Warts both bring up aren't lost on you, in fact you've been having them yourself. You've already been seeing a drop in profit in most of your business ventures.

You were hoping to avoid getting involved and you certainly didn't anticipate the Joachimites being so violently fanatical as they've been. Then again nobody really did.

What you don't understand is why the hell they've even been allowed to get this far. There was always the rumor that Baroness Varsakken herself was a worshipper of Fel so you would have thought she might have intervened in some direct way. But maybe it was just rumors.

You can't help but wonder if the Ebony Claw Syndicate was still around if the Temple of Fel would be doing much better than they are. It might be a case that you're going to have to be the ones to help instead.

You're not exactly on friendly terms with the Felians, but you've never really had any problems with them either. Your issues with them are just like you have with any religion and that's that you find them to be too restrictive. Honestly, if you had it to do over again, you might have sided with the Yagites since they seemed the least fanatical, though even Warts didn't think much of them claiming that people shouldn't organize to worship Yag in the first place.

In any case, you aren't even sure if the Felians will be receptive to an alliance or what it might even entail. You have to try though because you can't afford to just sit by and do nothing anymore.

"Guess I need to have a meeting with whoever is the head of the Temple of Fel. Do we have any actual information on that?" Vera remarks.
"Um, not really boss. You know the Felians, they're a pretty secretive bunch. In fact, don't even know where they're all holding out at actually now ever since their temple was directly attacked and partially destroyed."
"Mm, well put the word out that I want to talk with the high priest or whoever. I'm sure it'll get back to them eventually."

Your orders are carried out and life continues as usual for you. Weeks pass and for a while you think you're probably not going to get an answer. In fact you start to wonder if the Joachimites already succeeded in wiping them all out.

However, one night when you're in bed you awaken and sit up with your pistol drawn from under your pillow.

A dark figure that you can barely make out sits in the corner of the room.

"Not sure why you're bothering with that thing. I could have killed you several times over already and that's even before you actually woke up. My name is Shade." The figure says.
"Appropriate name. Was wondering when one of you lot would show up." You say, lowering your weapon.
"We've been a little pre-occupied as of late. Defending the faith of Fel is a tireless cause, but one we take very seriously."
"I suppose its even more tiring when you're on the losing side."
"It may appear that way to the ignorant faithless, but I assure you that is not the case. We are merely biding our time and will strike when the time is right."
"Sure you are. And that's why you're here wondering what I might have to say to help quicken that wait time."
"You presume much for a petty criminal."
"Pet…okay, you know what. I'm sick of this. We can sit here all night and verbally kick each other in the balls, but the point is, I wanted to speak with you about a mutual enemy, which are those fanatical Joachimites. Now they haven't been a direct threat to me and mine yet, but I imagine when they finally are through with you, we'll be next in their purity crusade. Since I'd rather not have to deal with them by myself, I reached out to you for a possible alliance. I figured since you once had a similar set up with the Ebony Claw Syndicate, you wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

You hear a snort of laughter when you mention the ECS.

"Something funny?" you ask.
"Yes, irony is always funny." Shade says.
"What do you mean?"
"Not everyone was keen on our alliance with the Syndicate. In fact I was very vocal against our alliance with them. I felt it sullied our faith to associate with such criminals. Allowing some of them into our shadow magic secrets. It was a disgrace to Fel's name. Joachimite's foolishly believe they have the cornerstone on the concept of purity. Let me tell you, purity isn't only found in the so called light."
"Well I can see that you have some strong feelings on all this."
"Damn right I do. Which is why I didn't kill you immediately even though I could tell you had your own agenda against the Ebony Claw Syndicate the first time I met you. Now here I am dealing with you again despite our temple's break from alliances with the unworthy."

You pause and realize who you're talking to exactly. You remember at the time after everything that happened with the ECS you wondered if you'd have to deal with this man again. You never thought it would be in this capacity though.

"So, you were sent by the Fel leadership to deal with yet another criminal group. Yeah, I can see where that would piss you off." You say.
"It's even worse since I AM the Temple's leadership this time. Shortly after the ECS started to collapse with the death of their boss which I have no doubt you had a hand in, there was another debate on whether or not help. It was then when I decided that our temple should seize the chance to discard our alliance and go back to basics. Let's just say the disagreement with the leadership at the time got heated and I took our temple back to what it should be focusing on." Shade says.
"And it looks like that worked out real well for you."
"It did. At least for a time. In any case, all of my actions would seem to have been for naught since I'm here. While perhaps I believe outside influences are a corrupting influence on our faith, I must also be pragmatic if our faith is to survive in this city."
"What I don't understand is how you lot let yourselves get in this position in the first place. I mean you fuckers sneak about silently, turn invisible, and are one with the shadows. I mean arguably that's why the Ebony Claw was so feared in the first place, due to your alliance along with its top leaders being practitioners of Shadow magic, and I imagine they couldn't even do everything your top followers could. What about other Fel temples elsewhere? You can't just call on help from them? Not to mention I thought you lot even had government influence. I mean I always heard the rumor that Baroness Ludmilla was a follower of Fel."
"Well the part of that is easy to answer, because it relates back to my break away from outside influence. You see, the next closest chapter, which exists in the Delantium Kingdom where they still maintain close ties to the ECS, doesn't exactly approve of THIS particular chapter. Hence I can expect no help from them. As for the Baroness, well let's just say she's a politician first and even more of a dabbler than a typical ECS lieutenant. It probably doesn't help that I cut most ties with her on our temple other than bare minimum cordial tolerance for her superficial intrigue on our faith."
"If you hadn't been so much of a fanatic, you might have had a few more friends to help you now."
"I remind you, that if I hadn't been so much of a fanatic, I would have killed you a long time ago. However, you are right of course unfortunately. Lately I've been wondering if all of this that has happened is Fel's way of punishing me for my hubris and past transgressions. I suppose it is equally amusing that my own rigid fanaticism caused my temple's downfall, while that same rigid fanaticism is causing the Joachimites' churches resurgence. Their god has been blessing them not just in the martial ways, but of magic as well. Our own shadow magic is practically rendered useless when faced with their light magic. Can't even get anyone close enough to stealthily assassinate their known top priests. Let alone the one who's actually leading them."
"Who is leading them anyway? I mean we've only got a few rumors and names."
"A bit of an enigma. So much so, it would actually make Fel proud. All we know is they call themselves The Inquisitor."
"That's the same name I've heard a few times."
"Yeah and that's about all that's known about him, assuming it's a guy. Have no real clue since whenever there have been sightings of the Inquisitor; the person is wearing a white mask along with a long white robe. Could be anything under there."
"You can't assassinate him?"
"Besides the fact that he moves around a lot, we've tried several times and we can't get close enough. He's also got some sort of magical protection that deflects projectiles of any kind. I suppose if we had more people maybe we could try to overwhelm him, but those damn Joachimites…they do not go down easy. Some of them rival a Karnite priest in their stubbornness to die and I should know because I've had to fight several of each. Yes, they are definitely not the peace and love pacifists they once were. I guess perhaps the Neroth cultists that were plaguing the city years ago lit that spark of hate back in them."

While all this is mildly fascinating, you think it's time to get to business.

"Shit, I was hoping this might be easier if we aligned. The way you're talking you make it sound like this Inquisitor is nigh invulnerable." You say.
"I'm sure he's not invulnerable. Peel away all that protection and I'm sure he bleeds like everyone else. It's just getting through it, that's all. As much as I'm loathed to admit, your help WOULD probably go a long way in the Joachimites' eventual defeat. For one thing they aren't expecting an attack from your group. Set it up right and you could probably do a lot of damage with your first attack. Be prepared for the retaliation though, because it will be fierce. Hope you're ready to take some personnel losses." Shade says.
"I'm more concerned by financial losses, but better to take a big loss now than a complete loss later if we don't help at all. Just wish there was another way rather than the slog that's going to ensue. If we could take out this Inquisitor leader immediately, I would imagine the rest might lose some of their fight."
"Don't be so sure. Remember, all of these people are motivated by their love and faith of Joachim, not this Inquisitor. He's just leading the charge. However, you may have a point in that if he was out of the picture quicker, then perhaps those of lesser conviction may indeed be shaken enough to no longer be a concern. While our attempts at breaking through the Inquisitor's magic defenses have failed, I can think of one group who might be able to and that's the Dornans."
"And I take it you're not on good terms with them either."
"No, however you are a neutral party and if you're willing, you might be able to talk with them. Of course there's a bit of a danger though. The Dornans as you might know have taken a cocoon like approach to this whole event with their protective barrier around their own temple. Only Holgard Watchmen who patrol through the area at times are allowed anywhere near the place. The Joachimites attempted an attack on it once and they were incinerated almost instantly. Even they haven't dared to do it again."
"So if I go to talk with them, at best they'll probably ignore me, at worst they'll turn me into ash."
"Essentially, yes. Up to you though if you want to take that risk. If you do and assuming you're successful, I believe on my end we can track down the latest where abouts of the Inquisitor and hit him hard. This brings me to my question to you. Regardless of what approach we go with, what exactly is it that you want of the Temple of Fel in exchange for your assistance in this matter?"
"Oh that. Well I haven't made up my mind on that exactly yet. Don't worry though, I have no intention on insisting that you teach me or any Nocturnal League members shadow magic or otherwise intertwine our two organizations. All I ask for is if there comes a day where I need a really need a big favor, I expect you to honor it." You say.
"How big exactly?" Shade asks.
"Oh not bigger than saving an entire organization from extinction I assure you. In any case, I know you're obviously a man of great faith so I expect you to make this promise to Fel that you will help me whenever that day comes. Do this and I will take your word as true."

You hear nothing for a moment followed by a loud sigh. This has to be killing Shade, but better his pride dies tonight than the meager remains of his temple.

"Very well. Assuming you succeed in helping us, I swear by the purity of the shadows provided by Fel that give us protection against our enemies that I will help you when you call upon it in the future and extend that protection to you. Now, do you have an idea of which way you want to go with the attack?"

[User] You war of attrition

[Assistant]
While there may be more Joachimites than Felians, you know there aren't more of them than the Nocturnal League. It'll just be a matter of keeping up the pressure and whittling them down. Eventually there won't be enough of them to defend this Inquisitor properly and that's when you'll make the killing strike.

When you explain this to Shade however, he's less than enthusiastic about your rather laid back plan.

"Honestly I had hoped you had a better idea than just simply trying to wear them down." Shade remarks.
"Well all your attempts at going in for the kill immediately have failed so maybe a new approach is what is needed." You reply.
"If you haven't noticed, my organization is fighting for its survival and we don't have time to sit on our hands and wait for the enemy to overwhelm us!"
"They won't now, you've got our help. With our forces together the Joachimites will eventually crumble. I don't care who this Inquisitor asshole is, he won't be shit after all his buddies start dying."

Shade doesn't look convinced, but he reluctantly agrees with your plan.

You don't wait too long before you put your plan into action. Also doesn't take long before the Joachimites are on the defensive. Your first few attacks are particularly devastating to their ranks.

This isn't without cost however. As time goes on, the Joachimites manage to drum up more support in the form of their non-combative followers. All those regular Joachim fearing Holgard citizens that weren't directly involved are now becoming more of a problem as several start openly standing up to Nocturnal League members in the streets preaching about how the League is a blight on this godless city and divine justice will soon be upon you. This never goes well for them of course, but it's not doing wonders for you either.

With so many standing up to the League, it's harder to maintain the natural fear you were instilling in the population. Relying on more brutal methods to keep people in check works, but unfortunately you can't collect money from the dead and the violence from your organization is getting so bad that even the normally corrupt Holgard Watch has to step in to maintain some semblance of order and you begin to lose business.

In fact it gets to a point where the Baroness demands that ALL hostilities between the religious factions come to a halt or she'll be sending in soldiers to deal with everyone involved. This goes about as well as you might expect.

The Inquisitor, still as zealous as ever makes a rare public appearance calling for a holy crusade on the city itself and that anyone who truly believes in Joachim's light, should follow or be cast down into darkness like the rest of the infidels.

It is during this speech that the Felians, attempt to launch one more direct attack upon him. Shade himself even leads the charge. You would have helped had you known about it, but coordinated efforts between you and Shade haven't been the best since you agreed to join him in the first place.

You weren't there to witness it first hand, but the assassination attempt is a failure. Shade is even killed in the process, brought down by some sort of divine light that utterly melted him. The sight was so impressive that anyone who was on the fence about joining the Joachimites became a believer that day.

With the Felians broken, any of them alive after that point flee their temple and the city itself. Which ultimately leaves you and the Baroness to combat this religious mad man. (The Dornans continue to remain fiercely neutral and refuse to see anyone, remaining behind a magical barrier around their temple.

The Nocturnal League isn't out of the fight, but many of the members are seriously starting to question your leadership since nobody is making as much coin with religious fanaticism taking root and your businesses no longer being the draw they used to. A couple foolishly attempt to challenge you (which results in their death) but more of them are just thinking about leaving the city for better pickings. Warts ends up being one of those since he just disappears one day and doesn't return. It's possible he's dead, but you remember he did this before during the last major Holgard conflict. Vera's pissed and you are too to a small degree, but you aren't excessively surprised.

You continue your fight with the Joachimites and fortunately get a little relief from the government since Ludmilla finally calls a halt to ongoing hostilities towards the League since the Joachimites are a greater threat. However your activities are severely limited to just running brothels and gambling. Other activities such as extortion or dealing drugs are to no longer be tolerated. You don't have much choice in the matter since much like the government; you can't fight a war on two fronts and are just managing to keep the League from collapsing internally.

After a few months, you maintain a more defensive posture and focus on consolidation of your own forces while Ludmilla spares no expensive in stomping out the Joachimite religion in the city. Eventually enough oppressive laws along with Ludmilla somehow coming to a deal with the Dornans to provide minor assistance the Inquisitor's last holdout with his most fanatical followers are tracked down and defeated.

All religion save for the temple of Dorna are outlawed and anyone holding Joachimite beliefs is sentenced to death, putting a final end to the religious faction war in the city once and for all.

As for you and the League, it's been a war of attrition indeed and you curse the fact that you allowed yourself to get wrapped up in this in the first place, but then again who knows if this wouldn't have happened eventually anyway and at least the Joachimites will no longer plague the city.

You're in a much weaker position now, but you imagine that you can hopefully bounce back from it. You just need time.

Year 28

"Maybe the halfbreed really is dead if he hasn't returned yet. I certainly hope that's the case." Vera remarks.
"Possibly, but it's only been a year and things still aren't really settled yet in this city. He's probably just waiting it all out a little longer. In any case, what was it that you wanted to suggest?" you ask.
"I was going to suggest that maybe it's time we start looking to better opportunities because Holgard in its current state isn't getting any better for us. That baroness bitch has become miss law and order all of a sudden and she's even employing more magic in this task now thanks to her new alliance with the Dornans!"
"Well last I heard Klyton isn't exactly that great for rogues like us and Hessla is a piss poor pirate town. The Delantium Kingdom is Ebony Claw territory, so that doesn't give many options to expand."
"I was thinking of Jicol."
"Where?"
"Jicol is a port city on an island west of Hessla. They've got a large enough navy to fend off pirates, but as far as I know, they don't really focus on their land based security as much."
"How do you know this?"
"I got some pirate contacts who tell me shit from time to time. Honestly, I'm thinking we should just take the whole operation there, but I'm guessing you might be a little reluctant to just leave Holgard entirely."
"Well yeah, but I've always trusted your judgement and you've stuck with this organization through some rough times, so if this Jicol is open like you're claiming, then maybe we should check it out. I guess I'd send you with some people to get started."

Vera smiles a bit when you approve of her idea so quickly. You try not to think about it too much, but you're pretty certain that Vera is genuinely attracted to you and not just on a physical or "career" level. You don't really want to ever think about it due to the whole fact that you're cursed. Something you haven't really had time to think about too much, but you need to fix it someday if you ever want to have any sort of relationship again. Maybe you could try to go see the Dornans about getting it lifted or something.

In the meantime, Vera also springs some extra news on you that you weren't expecting.

"Oh, some man with a shaved head and several burn scars on his face and hands was asking about you by name at one of our brothels. He said he knew you from the old days." Vera says.
"Oh? Wait, this wasn't an older guy was it?" you ask, suddenly wondering if it was Sneaks. (You never did learn what happened to him)
"No, this guy said his name was Yinen. Said he used to do some business with you…name sounds familiar."
"Yinen? Yeah I know him! He was a fence for the Thieves Guild. Well for the Syndicate too really, maybe that's why the name sounds familar, but in any case the last time I saw him was when I rescued him from a Neroth torture cell. Never did know what happened to him either, where the hell has he been?"
"I dunno, this is second hand info I got from some of our people. All I know is he wants to speak with you about settling some debts."
"Debts? The only one I can think of between us is him repaying me for saving his life."
"Well maybe that's what he wants to do. Here." Vera gives you a small piece of parchment with some writing on it. "He gave this to our people and this apparently is an address of where he's currently staying at and said you can meet him there at anytime. You want me to just have some people bring him here though?"
"Nah, I can make the trip down there. He's not Nocturnal League anyway, so he doesn't need to know our hideout. Though who knows, maybe we'll have a new member. Could use the help right about now. Anyway, why don't you start making the arrangements for your trip to Jicol."

As Vera sets out to follow your orders, you decide to go visit Yinen now while you've got the time. You're sort of wondering what Yinen's meeting is all about. Last time you saw him, it wasn't under the best circumstances and he was ranting like a madman after his torture by the Neroth cult. Hopefully he's gotten over all that.

You soon arrive at a run down house in a lower class district. The house itself looks like it suffered through the recent conflicts in the city. Wouldn't be the only property in this city to do so.

You knock on the door and soon it opens and that's when you see Yinen.

"Yinen? What the hell happened to you?" you say remarking about several things applying to him.
"Hello old comrade, as for what happened to me, that's a long story. First though, come on in and let me say I want to apologize for attacking you that day you saved me from that wretched cell."
"It's fine. It was a long time ago…but I don't remember the Nerothians burning you. Where did you get all these burn marks on your hands and face?"
"That's an even longer story and I'll tell you about that too, but rest assured, what you see on my hands and face is just a fraction of what is practically all over. Doesn't matter though, I healed and grew stronger. I had far greater losses than any superficial physical appearance."

You step inside and Yinen closes the door before walking into a humble living area.

"You'll have to excuse the mess and disrepair of this place. Used to be my parents until they died." Yinen says.
"Oh. Didn't know your parents lived here." You answer.
"Why would you? I tended to keep my old business life as private as possible. They were good Joachim fearing folks that didn't have much to do with me anyway. Of course that's also what got them killed. Ludmilla didn't show much mercy to any of those faithful to Joachim and my parents while peaceful would never willingly give up their faith. You can guess what happened."
"Yeeah…I imagine that would suck. So they died during that conflict?"
"Yes, last year towards the end of it, before the Inquisitor was finally brought down by Ludmilla's troops. I only heard about my parents a few months after everything had died down. I was a little pre-occupied with something else at the time, but I rushed back here to this accursed city as soon as possible to take care of various affairs."

Yinen at this point goes over to a small box and pulls a couple ornamental objects out of it. They look like symbols dedicated to Joachim.

"Careful with those, you get caught with them and it's the death penalty rather than just a fine and jail time. Sort of surprised those objects weren't destroyed when your parents were…killed." You say.
"Oh these didn't belong to them. These are mine. This house was either filled with broken furniture or garbage until I moved in. Apparently the government didn't bother repurposing it or even seizing the property for housing someone else. Just left abandoned." Yinen says.
"Your stuff and you snuck it in here? Are you crazy?"
"I suppose to many I am. I have even questioned my own sanity at times, but then I remember, Joachim has given me his guidance and holy mission. And no matter what, I will not fail in that mission. I have learned from my failures and will follow a new path to bring his divine justice."

At this point Yinen's voice sounds more fanatical even if it remains calm and you get a very uneasy feeling. So uneasy in fact that you go for your weapon.

Yinen turns around and before you know it, your pistol burns so hot in your hand that you drop it. You go for your blade, but once again you burn your hand.

"Joachim's will cannot be stopped and this city WILL learn this. I regret that I must destroy you who once saved my life. Indeed if not for you, I would not be on my holy path that I am today. For that I thank you, but you are one of the many symptoms of wickedness in this city. Perhaps if you had not attacked my flock so brutally a parley might have been possible, but then I should know that one cannot suffer a sinner. One can only cleanse them." Yinen says raising his hands, which are emanating a white glowing light.
"Shit…it was you. You were the…"
"When the baroness' men tried to kill me by setting my last church on fire and barricading me inside, they should have known that fire only purifies and will never kill those on the right path or those whose work is not yet done. All that happened in my near death experience was my focus became even clearer with the will of Joachim. I give you the only mercy I can to an infidel. I give you a quick death and may Joachim forgive you."

You attempt to run out the door, but before you even reach it, your whole body spontaneously combusts into flames. You scream in agony as the fire completely engulfs your body.


[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 your Family

[Assistant]
Your birth was an unusual one, which is a kind way of saying "accidental". You were born of a union of an elven mother and a ruthless human marauder whose own ancestry probably has ogrish blood.
How they met was quite beautiful though. Your Dad was storming an elven castle and after putting several pointy ears to their deaths he came across your Mom who was being held in a special tower to ensure her purity for her eventual marriage to a High Elven Prince. She was raised and conditioned to be a perfect wife and even had spells infused into her being to forge a bond with her potential mate. Of course your Dad didn't know all that, he just saw a fine piece of elven ass and naturally after all that killing, your Dad was in the mood for some lovin…

Normally after such actions he most likely would've killed her or passed her over to the rest of his men where upon one of them would've killed her after they had their fun, but something unexpected occurred. Rotten ol' Dad fell in love, possibly for the first time in his life. The reasons are somewhat unclear, though you believe that it strongly has something to do with the magical aura of your mother's conditioning. (Which also explains why she stayed a bastard who had basically raped her and killed her family) Instead of killing her he felt like doing stupid stuff like being nice to her and giving her sparkly things of great monetary value. He even carried her carefully out of the burning castle.

Of course this didn't go over too well with the usual bunch of cutthroats he hung around with at the time, and he was severely taunted, mocked and even challenged. All of that soon stopped though after he killed everyone and married your Mom. The Elven Prince she was originally supposed to marry actually breathed a sigh of relief when it was discovered, since as it turned out he thought girls were "icky" and it was only to be a political marriage in the first place.

Soon your father found that he now had actual responsibilities beyond his own selfish pleasures. Not only did he now have a wife, he had a baby on the way. Your mother's influence was taking more of a hold on him as well. He agreed to give up his banditry and marauder ways, and instead became a mercenary in which he could at least somewhat legally justify any misdeeds he might be involved in. Your mother who had been sheltered for so long became enamored with city life, so they both moved into a nice house in the Zalan Empire where she became a school teacher for young children.

Soon you were born and your father hoped that you might follow in his footsteps (At this point he was eager to show his "offspring" all the cool ways to kill people) but it was obvious that you took more after your mother even if not the talent.

While your Dad might've become a "changed man" due to your Mom, he didn't change that much. You had to hear the verbal abuse and endure a lot of physical hardship (Such as him taking you out to the wilderness where he wanted you to learn how to survive for three day just wearing a loincloth!), before he finally "gave up" on making you into a warrior. Still, you probably did learn how to fight better than most wizards, but of course you're FAR from being a "real" wizard! Fortunately Dad wasn't at home for long stretches at a time since his mercenary work often kept him busy. You don't mind saying about how sometimes you wished he never came back at all! But the old bastard was just too damn tough to die. Even in that rarity when his entire companies have been killed, he'd always somehow manage to come back more or less in one piece.

The man still can inspire fear in you, even though you've moved away and are an adult now. He's the one mainly paying for your education, so it's probably good that's he's still alive despite his threats and past abuse.

Your Mom of course is nicer, and fortunately did try to shelter you from some of your Dad's wrath. However she's been pushy in her own way. The moment your Dad gave up on you, she immediately stepped in and took over. From that point she was bound and determined to groom you to be that great wizard that she KNOWS you're going to be. Sometimes you wish she wouldn't place so much faith in you, because quite frankly you don't have that much aptitude and you don't understand how she can't see that, though you're guessing that she purposely ignores that little fact. In her mind, you're going to be a great wizard no matter what, so after high school you were to be sent to the Magic College in Nuro.

Besides Mom and Dad, there's Sis who was born shortly after you were. Sis is your Dad's favorite. When it was apparent you weren't warrior material, he noticed how your younger sister would always watch you and he spar. So he threw a sword to her and told her to show him what she had. Of course being very young at the time, she could barely hold the weapon, but it was obvious genetics favored her as a warrior and had natural ability. He might've even taken her on mission with him, but your Mom wasn't having that. She did of course in time hone her skills to a great degree. So much so that she would become the youngest candidate to ever join the Zalan Empire's Elite Guard. Though your Dad wasn't exactly ecstatic with that decision as he'd much preferred her to be a mercenary like him, rather than a governmental "pawn" (as he believes) but he can respect the battle skill.

As for your relationship with her, she sometimes bullied you when she got a little more skilled with fighting techniques, though sometimes it really helped to have a warrior sister to have your back at times, like when you got jumped by some Orc youths who were attempting to rob you. She single handedly defeated them all using only her fists. Of course when you both got home SHE took your money anyway! However, she eventually was nicer to you after she developed her sense of justice.

As far as families go, you probably could've done worse.


[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 can't remember when the world first started shaking, this little fragile patch of reality with so many cracks and such little support to keep it from breaking apart, but something was always going to give. It was just a matter of time. Nobody knew what really triggered the fall. Was it the breaking of the chains which kept your little quiet island floating in the sky all this time, imbued with the energy which kept it going for so long? Was it the final earthquake that split the lands of the humans, far below your precious little civilisation? Or was it something else?

It's easy to blame the humans who live beneath you, blame them for every little thing that goes wrong in the world. You're high enough to avoid the worst of the toxic gases that they leak into the atmosphere; you're smart enough to know not to drain the planet of what few resources remain to be cultivated; you're fast enough to hide yourself when they create a multitude of new dangers, unleashing terrors into the wild.

There is no war here, no government, no violence, no weapons or need to do anything but survive on your own and help each other out. The air is thinner here. Humans find it hard to breathe at this altitude without special equipment of their own. You pity them, but at the same time you admire them for being resourceful enough to create tools enabling them to come all the way up here. Then you remember what had to be sacrificed for such tools to be made, and you no longer admire them so much.

The island you've lived on for your entire life, along with your family and friends...is beginning to fall.

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
The wind howls in your ear as the island plummets towards the ground far, far below. No chains to keep you secure. No energy or power to keep you airborne, not anymore. Everything has been used up. This is where your home is, your village, your life; clusters of little grassy huts assembled in neat little circles, built to resist the strong winds of this height. Your people have long grown used to the lack of oxygen up here.

It isn't your home anymore.

You clutch onto the beautiful green grass covering the ground, grass which comes off in clumps in your hands. The air pressure is affecting the land and you watch in mounting horror as pieces of your home are savagely torn away from one another. You're not the only one, either; dozens of people are desperately trying to keep their houses secure before they too are ripped asunder. A doomed effort, because the gravitational pull is tremendous.

You do not see your parents anywhere. You fear they may have been dragged over the edge to their deaths, like so many others. This settlement is not equipped with appropriate equipment to land upon the human-inhabited grounds, thousands of metres below. Nobody would think to do anything like that.

The roar of the wind grows louder and louder in your ears, and the pressure on your body forces you into a narrow crawl. You cannot even raise your head, at the speed you are falling. Cracks appear in the ground around you, and you realise that this is no longer a case of keeping the island secure. The settlement is already done for. It will not survive.

[User] You crawl towards the ruins of your house nearby

[Assistant]
You claw your way towards what used to be your personal residence. The roof has been torn off, the front door is hanging on by mere threads, and the interior has been devastated beyond recovery. Only pieces of shattered wood remain here now. The wind picks up, and for a second you almost lose your grip, but you somehow manage to make it inside. What remains of the wall here serves as a temporary shelter.

Even so, the feeling in your gut tells you that the entire island is picking up more speed than before. The chains will not be repaired: it is not going to stop. Your chances of survival are slim at best.

[User] You keep your head down and seek shelter within the wall

[Assistant]
You crouch against the inside of the wall, covering your head as the deafening noise continues all around you. Earlier on, you could hear the cries of the other people as they sought shelter within their fragile little huts, but now there is nothing to be heard but the endless howling of the wind. A chill seeps into your bones, but that is the least of your worries right now. This wall will not hold for long. You may as well be stranded in the middle of the ocean, clinging to a broken piece of driftwood as the storm rages on.

As if eager to give you confirmation of this, small cracks begin to spread out across the wall where you are hiding. The entire island is shaking, causing the cracks to widen.

[User] You stay against the wall

[Assistant]
You stay braced against the wall, unwilling to move from this spot. This is your home. You will not abandon it, no matter what. More cracks appear all over the wall and start to crumble away; the wind whistles through the holes, and you can feel its chill upon the nape of your neck.

It's too late to try and escape your fate now. Everything is already destroyed. Your possessions, your livelihood, the people you grew up and formed relationships with. What else is left? What else can the world take away from you now? Home is where the heart is. You close your eyes and start repeating that small phrase like a constant mantra: home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is –

The wall collapses at your back, nothing but rubble now. You feel a moment of terror before the wind picks up speed and you are thrown off your feet, clumps of wood falling uselessly from your bleeding fingers. You scream as you are flung from the surface of the island, spiralling towards certain death far below…

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
The pressure mounts in your ears with a fearsome intensity, and your entire world turns into a mass of endless sound and impending pain. You fall for what seems like forever, desperately clutching at any means of support, anything at all. There is nothing for you to catch on to. You fight to draw breath, but your stomach feels as if it is being squeezed to breaking point. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open; your vision blurs and pinpricks of light flash before you, multiplying in number as your speed of descent increases further...

As you fall, you catch sight of a heavy chain extending from the base of the island. You've never had the opportunity to see it up close before, and it's sad that you can only do so now, in circumstances like these. The chain extends a short distance below the island before ending at a shattered black ring. Energy no longer flows through it to keep the island aloft. It has been split apart from some exterior force.

Confused at what this could mean, you gasp for breath as you fall with the island. The last of your strength fades. Unconsciousness falls upon you, and what you know of your world is consigned to complete blackness.

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
You hear voices in your ear, indistinct faces in the gloom around you. There is no pain, but the wind is still quite fierce and there is only a tiny semblance of touch or feeling. You try to move, but your body will not obey you. Everything seems too bright and loud for you to make out anything but what is immediately nearby. Too much light. Too much volume. It is difficult for you to tell if you are dead or alive. Only the presence of pain suggests the latter.

"Why, Mother?" a woman's voice whispers at your side. You are just barely aware that she is not addressing you, but someone else whom you cannot see. "Why do you choose to help her? Our burden is upon you, to cleanse us of our impurities and prolong our life force, but you lack judgement in this situation. You lack common sense. Do you seek to betray the rules and regulations of the Gahl'vuhr Sehn at its core? The Unworthy ones do not come to you. They do not know half of what you do for us. Yet now they fall from their sky islands, falling into nothing, now that the world finally stops turning. Leave her be. Leave her to die."

You feel warm hands pull you free, and a sense of strange nostalgia washes over you. It's difficult to describe, after all that's happened, but some of the tension eases away. It feels like…it feels like home.

"Do not save her, Mother," repeats the voice unfalteringly. "The Unworthy ones do not wish for absolution. Do you understand? They do not want your blessing, Mother. Waste not, want not." And then, in a fainter voice, so quiet that you could have sworn you imagined it, "This is not our way, Mother. This is not how we behave in the Gahl'vuhr Sehn. You will regret your folly."

The howling has stopped.

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
You awaken in more peaceful circumstances. No longer are you falling to your death at hundreds of miles an hour, deprived of everything you once held dear. For a split second, you are hopeful that everything which transpired was nothing but a cruel nightmare, designed to bleed you dry of all positive emotions. It certainly felt like a dream. As your surroundings become visible to you, however, you become painfully aware that this is reality.

Instead, you find yourself lying on a comfy bed inside a small, square room, with no memory of how you got here. Evidently, somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to make you feel at home here. A glass of water is placed on the bedside table for you, and a few pillows have been propped up just underneath your head.

Dizzily, you start to sit up and are surprised to find that you can do so. You also discover that you appear to have sustained no physical injuries at all. How could you possibly be unhurt? Your first thoughts are that one of the foreign sky races must have treated you upon impact, but they are surely too far away to have reached you in time. Your island was quite isolated from other land masses and never received many foreign visitors or travellers. Could it be that you never hit the ground at all?

Perhaps this is the afterlife, and you are to be judged for your transgressions in the events leading up to your death. In any case, you will not find out by simply lying in this bed all day. You feel well enough to get up and walk about now, so perhaps it is time to explore your surroundings in some more detail. You still do not know where you are.

As you start to get up, there is a vicious snarl from the corner of the bedroom.

With a start, you realise that you are not alone. A green-skinned muscular creature is glaring at you from a short distance away, sporting sharp claws, four arms, and a barbed tail. It is much bigger than you are and seems to be sizing you up. A mutant? You can't think of what else to call it. There are tales of sky races long ago which were said to engage in such experiments, creating their own warped definition of new life…

Fortunately for you, the mutant is confined within a large iron cage. It shouldn't be able to get out. You eye it warily and quickly move past it.

[User] You inspect the mutant further

[Assistant]
The mutant snarls at you intelligibly as you approach it. With a body composition like that, you doubt that this creature evolved naturally; no, it was likely the result of a hideous experiment with organic matter and some unknown toxic material. That's your best guess, really, but you're still at a loss to explain why your apparent rescuers put you in the same room as this vicious beast. The mutant seems to have been in this cage for a very long time.

You peer at it curiously through the bars, and the mutant suddenly slams all four of its claws into the cage. That makes you jump a little, but the door of the cage is quite sturdy and refuses to budge, no matter how much the creature bashes at it. It's not going to escape any time soon. A padlock on the cage door also prevents you from letting it out, just in case such a thought passed through your mind.

[User] You search the room for valuables

[Assistant]
You make a quick search of the bedroom, being careful not to stray too close to the mutant's cage, but there doesn't seem to be much of value here. A wardrobe has been placed against the wall, but contains only foul-smelling rags which are filled with holes. You consider tearing off a fragment of your bedsheets instead, but decide against it once you consider that your situation might be the outcome of limited hospitality.

After a few more minutes, you do find a strange scroll under your bed. It is written in a language that you do not understand, if it is a language at all; strange symbols and archaic runes cover the wrinkled paper. For now, you decide to take it along with you.

As you pick up the scroll, the mutant watches you with a baleful glare. It lets out a long hiss and the skin on its body changes colour to an angry red.

[User] You inspect the mutant further

[Assistant]
The mutant snarls at you intelligibly as you approach it. With a body composition like that, you doubt that this creature evolved naturally; no, it was likely the result of a hideous experiment with organic matter and some unknown toxic material. That's your best guess, really, but you're still at a loss to explain why your apparent rescuers put you in the same room as this vicious beast. The mutant seems to have been in this cage for a very long time.

You peer at it curiously through the bars, and the mutant suddenly slams all four of its claws into the cage. That makes you jump a little, but the door of the cage is quite sturdy and refuses to budge, no matter how much the creature bashes at it. It's not going to escape any time soon. A padlock on the cage door also prevents you from letting it out, just in case such a thought passed through your mind.

The mutant's skin has now changed to an angry red colour. Even though the cage is holding it back, you're wary about spending any more time in this room.

[User] You ignore the mutant and leave the bedroom to find out where you are

[Assistant] You push open the door and step outside to find yourself in a narrow corridor which extends both left and right. To the left, you feel a gust of wind blowing, rustling through your hair softly. The sensation is not unpleasant. Perhaps there is a window open in that direction. To the right, you can hear the voices of people talking and laughing, though you are not close enough to hear exactly what they are saying. It is possible that they are your rescuers, but you cannot tell for sure.

[User] You go left where the wind is coming from

[Assistant]
The wind grows stronger as you follow the corridor around the corner, towards a set of stairs which lead to the upper level. You're not quite sure where you are, exactly. You can only assume that you have been taken to somebody's home, perhaps another faraway settlement, but you must surely be a long way from home. At least, where your home used to be. It doesn't explain the presence of the mutant in your room, however, so you can only hope that your hosts are not unpleasant company.

You climb up the stairs to find yourself...staring out across open skies. Clouds can be seen on the horizon, clustered in a never-ending sea of blue which surrounds you for miles and miles as far as the eye can see…

This is no ordinary residence. This is no house. You're not even on ground level. You are standing on the upper deck of a fully functioning airship! No wonder the wind was so strong up here: you must be hundreds of metres above sea level...

You've never been on an airship before, but you have seen plenty of them at the island where you lived all your life. Some sky races use these aerial vessels to transport goods and cargo between islands, others simply for transporting passengers. However, they can be slow and unwieldy to operate, and they are not especially durable; a fierce lightning storm can easily put an airship out of commission. For this reason, airships are usually designed for short voyages with a minimum of passengers.

It's like something out of a dream. A real airship. You don't know where this one is headed, but it has to be somewhere better than where you came from. Where do you want to go, after all? No, the bigger question is – what happened on the surface of the land far below? What prompted your island to fall in the first place?

As you gaze out thoughtfully across the open skies, there are footsteps behind you. You turn to see a young woman with long red hair cascading across her shoulders. There is a hint of recognition in her green eyes as she looks at you.

"Vnwprthy," she says in a clear voice. "Ypv brf thf Vnwprthy." She beckons to you with one finger. "Cpmf. Cpmf wjth mf. Thf Cbptbjn wbnts tp spfbk tp ypv."

Without another word, she turns on her heel and walks across the deck into another section of the airship. You do not understand her words, but it seems that she wants you to follow her.

[User] You follow the woman

[Assistant]
Curious about what awaits you, you follow the red-haired woman across the upper deck and over to the other side. She leads you through another set of twists and turns in the corridors, down into another part of the airship. As you walk, you pass by several uniformed men who watch you with interest. They are not human, but then again...neither are you. Each of them appears to be armed to the teeth. Only now do you realise that they must be part of the ship's crew.

After a few minutes, your guide leads you to a brass door which lies at the top of a final flight of stairs. There is a sign on top of the door, but you lack the knowledge to read the symbols and runes displayed there.

"Gp jn," she says, gesturing for you to enter. "Thf cbptbjn js wbjtjng fpr ypv."

At her request, you push open the door and enter the room beyond.

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
You enter a large, lavishly-furnished room with all manner of alien devices mounted upon the walls, none of which you have seen the like before. One device consists of two gyros oscillating in synchronisation with each other, surrounded by a shimmering coil of energy; another instrument is similar to a telescope upon first glance, but appears to contain three lens of varying sizes at set intervals within its interior; a third device resembles a sundial, but is set into the ceiling and is covered by an array of round discs. Evidently, these instruments must be related to the operation of the airship. You're not sure whether they are lifelike models of the real thing or not, but they do fascinate you.

From the look of the place, you must be in the captain's room. Sunlight pours in through two bay windows at the front, and a plain-looking bed is situated in the corner next to a pair of filing cabinets. This cabin seems to function as both a workspace and as living quarters. A large number of medals and trophies stand upon one of the cabinets.

The captain herself stands at the other end of the cabin behind a large desk, dressed in a red and purple uniform covered by various badges to indicate her high status. Much like the other crew members you saw earlier, she is not human and is vaguely reptilian in nature. Thick white hair flows down her back in an elegant ponytail.

"Vnwprthy," the captain says to you curtly as you enter. "Wflcpmf."

You look blankly at her, wondering if you are about to subjected to yet another series of verbal questions in a language you do not understand.

"My crfw tfll mf thbt ypv hbvf bffn bslffp fpr spmf tjmf, Vnwprthy," she says, a disregarding tone in her voice, one used to command. "Nbtvrblly, ypvr prfsfncf hfrf hbs cbvsfd qvjtf b stjr bmpng vs. Whp brf ypv, bnd whfrf hbvf ypv cpmf frpm?"

She looks expectantly at you, frowning when she sees that you do not comprehend her words. With a sigh of disgust, the captain calls out in a sharp voice. The door of the cabin opens behind you, and a red-haired woman with a kindly face steps inside. She appears to be human. It's strange, because you didn't think humans could survive at these kinds of altitudes.

"Hfllp," the red-haired woman says to you gently. When you look at her in confusion, she tries again. "Cpmmpn Tpngvf…Vncpmmpn…He…Hell-oh? Hello? Is…is this better?"

"Yes," you say gratefully. "That's better. I can understand you."

The captain looks quite annoyed with the exchange as the red-haired woman speaks urgently to her. She turns towards you haughtily and clears her throat.

"How about…this?" she says irritably. "You do not speak Common Tongue, or even Uncommon Tongue. A mix of Skylandish and Common Comorrah? Is this really how you talk to your brethren? You Unworthy ones are nothing but a constant pain."

Seeing that you understand her, she sags back against her chair with some relief. "I see that we have some communication in place at last. I am the captain of this ship. I will make a few things clear right now, Unworthy – I do not tolerate stowaways who drop out of the damn sky, taking up additional resources than I can spare for my crew. I don't care if your island fell into the ocean. That's no excuse to litter my ship with your worthless carcass. Damn nuisance, you people are!"

She throws up her hands – or rather, claws – in a gesture which suggests she likes to complain. "Are you aware that Mother Ghared chose to save your life?" The captain nods her head towards the young red-haired woman standing next to her. "As official members of the Gahl'vuhr Sehn, it is against our policy to save the life of an Unworthy. That's you, by the way. Anybody outside our organisation is an Unworthy. I wasn't happy about this at all. Mother Ghared is far too soft in these matters."

"Captain," Mother Ghared says in a passive tone of voice, "I believe you did not bring the Unworthy up here to give her a tirade on her existence. She must be quite tired after her ordeal. Her island is not the first to plummet towards the ground, nor will it be the last. An exchange of information is required."

The captain glares at you, but reluctantly acknowledges her words. "Very well," she says. "Unworthy, you are free to ask me questions about your situation. But after you have finished, I have some important questions of my own."

[User] You ask her about this airship

[Assistant]
"You stand aboard an Auvahr-Tenur Airship, Year 2XX5, Model CXXP," the captain says with a certain note of pride in her voice. "We Auvahrs are known well for our skill in ship construction, but see little sense in naming them. These vessels are not built for long journeys, as you may know. Although the Tenurs work on the advanced mechanisms, it is not mandatory to employ them as members of the crew and we carry no Tenurs aboard at this time."

She appears to be referring to the races which populate the various sky islands. You have heard of the Tenur race before, but have never encountered Auvahrs before. For your entire life, you have been content to remain on your little island without once venturing out into the unknown. At times like this, you wonder if such a decision was altogether wise.

"Where are you headed?" you ask.

"Island 45H, according to the sky charts," she answers. "You Unworthy ones do not name your islands, do you? How quaint. We can respect that, but it makes it harder for us to make a decent reference point. Among us Auvhars, the island is known as Majeruk." The captain glances at one of the instruments in front of her. "We will reach Majeruk within the hour, at which point you can disembark and get off my damn vessel at last. Unworthy, we carry a decent amount of cargo on board and I will not have your presence contaminate the merchandise further. I will be glad to be rid of you."

This news brings you some hope. It sounds as if you might have a chance to reach an island not unlike the one you left behind. That seems a sensible way to proceed right now: move on, rebuild, and re-settle upon a new island. It seems that not every island has met the same fate as yours, but how long will that last? When will the world stop shaking?

[User] You proceed

[Assistant] The captain of the airship waits patiently at her desk, awaiting your next question.

[User] You ask her about the people on board

[Assistant]
"This airship carries only Auvahrs and one human," she says dismissively. The captain appears to be referring to the races which populate the sky islands, though you have never encountered an Auvahr in the flesh before. "A standard crew, including mercenaries to guard the merchandise should we run into any trouble. We also carry a few valuable prisoners from the last island." There's a pause, and you wonder if she might be referring to the caged mutant you saw in your bedroom.

"What about…" You voice the question which has been plaguing you, glancing over to the red-haired woman. "Mother Ghared? She's a human."

"Quite right," the captain replies. "Gahl'vuhr Sehn policy requires that every airship within their organisation carries a representative proficient in restorative abilities, to ensure survival of the crew in the worst-case scenario. It was Mother Ghared who saved your life, against my express wishes. She may be human, but she is a formidable representative of the Gahl'vuhr Sehn and can withstand the high altitudes, thanks to her rather abstract nature. If you wish to speak to her whilst you are here, you will do so only with the greatest of respect."

You look towards Mother Ghared, but her expression betrays nothing of her inner thoughts.


[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 give them the wallet

[Assistant]
You hand over your wallet, giving them the finger as you do.

"Thanks," the skinny one smiles, grabbing it from your hand as he smacks you in the head with the gun, knocking you to the floor.

"What are you doing?" the big one asks. "We don't need to kill him! We got the wallet!"

You look up to see the barrel of the gun pointing directly at your head.

"You heard what he said. He's with the count. If we kill him now, the count won't come after us!" the skinny one knows. "He's seen our faces."

"He doesn't know our names," the big one says.

"I'm Lucas. That's Mikhail," the skinny one said.

"What the fuck!?" the big one, Mikhail replies.

"We have to kill him. Now even you'd agree to that," Lucas says.

"Always kill your prey. You don't want to let them come back and bite you in the throat," a voice says.

Count Grey steps from the shadows, his teeth curved in a grin, his fangs prominent. He grabs Lucas' gun arm, twisting it until Lucas drops the gun. Mikhail charges with a knife, but with a quick, well-planted punch to the chest sends him to the floor, badly winded. You stand up, grabbing the gun as well as drawing your own, pointing one at each of the thieves.

"What, are you some fucking cowboy with your guns? Shoot, come on!" Lucas says, even though his bottom lip is quivering.

"Tell me, Samuel. How did they manage to jump you?" Count Grey asks, tracing a finger down Lucas' nose.

"I was pissing," you admit.

"Hmmm... tell me, where is your family?" Count Grey asks, turning his attention to the teens.

"Dead," Lucas answers.

"Well then, you've shown balls, willingness to kill and the ability to ambush. Perhaps... Samuel, you were the one mugged. What happened? Were you behaving stupidly and ambushed by some lackluster fools, or are these two deserving of becoming ghouls?"

[User] You suggest the teens become ghouls

[Assistant]
"They have potential," you admit.

"Young men, I'll give you a choice. I could kill you now, drain your blood and return to my castle for the night."

"What's the other option?" Mikhail asks.

"Join me. Let me take you on as my... apprentice. As my servant. As my slave. As whatever I need you to be. In exchange for your servitude, I offer your life."

"Jesus, do you have that memorized?" you mutter, under your breath.

"I'm in," Lucas says immediately, as Mikhail pauses, before nodding in agreement.

"Perfect," the vampire smiles. "The coach is full. You'll walk behind it. No breaks. No time to pack. Immediately. If you're too pathetic for that, you might as well die of exhaustion."

With that, Count Grey walks off, and you eagerly follow.

[User] Three Years Later...

[Assistant]
You watch as the Twins hold the two girls in front of you, knives in their hands. Count Grey stands to your side, watching intently.

"Do it," Count Grey commands.

Mikhail takes a deep breath, stabbing the girl in the throat. He closes his eye as the girl twitches, blood spurting out as he slices through her throat.

"Help..." the girl gurgles, blood filling her throat, before he head drops to the side.

Lucas looks at his master, before down at the girl. He presses the knife to the girl's wrist, slicing it open. As the girl screams, before he wraps his left arm around her throat and beginning to strangle her to prevent her from screaming.

"What are you doing?" Count Grey asks, more curious than angry.

"If she's left alive, the heart keeps pumping. More blood will spurt out for you to consume," Lucas says, as the girl sobs desperately.

"Interesting," Count Grey says. "Grab your blood bags and follow me. Samuel, no need to see this. You've filled countless bottles."

"Yes, sir," you reply.

You walk away, walking to the bedroom, lying down in the bed. You rest your head against the pillow, and drift off to sleep.

You awaken about an hour later, with Count Grey staring at you from the doorway.

"Yes?" you ask nervously.

"There's going to be some changes in this castle, understood? Now that we have three ghouls. You and the others will extend our power. First, it's important you should know. I'm not the only vampire."

"I know," you reply, confused. "We've fought rival Vampires, hunted those that went feral with bloodlust, taken out vampiric bandits..."

"I mean," Count Grey says, annoyed by the interruption. "That I'm not the only vampire on our side. You're family with the three vassal vampires that run the various subsections of the region, yes?"

"Yes," you reply. "The Draven Family House, the Alexa Family House and the Mihrab Family House."

"Not exactly. These are not the names of families. They're the names of individuals. I have three vampires under by control, acting as my lieutenants. Their names are Draven, Mihrab and Alexa."

"Are they threats?"

"No. You just need to know of them. If needs be, you'll kill one someday. Maybe all three. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," you reply.

"Good. Train and drill with the Twins more. You'll need to become a better fighter. Now, sleep."

With that, Count Grey closes the door, leaving you in the dark room.

Just knowing Count Grey has constant access to you prevents you from sleeping.

[User] Three Years Later...

[Assistant]
The coach drives down the road as the sun begins to fall from its high perch in the sky.You breath in the cold air, as Haygarth drives the horse forward. You take a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it with a match. You breath in the smoke, closing your eyes as you feel it fill your lungs, before exhaling.

"Pass it over," Mikhail says, reaching a gloved hand forward to grab at the cigarette from inside the coach.

"Haygarth? How far?" you ask.

"We're here," Haygarth mutters. "Yes, yes, we're here."

The coach pulls up to the side of an old brick tavern, the Raven's Quill.

"Is he late?" you ask. "What time is he supposed to be here?"

"Five-ish," Mikhail says, opening his pocket watch. "It's five now."

"He's late," you say.

"He said five-ish. That could be another hour, knowing Lucas," Mikhail says.

You nod, and turn to look at your companion.

Mikhail is an even uglier creature. The man is 6'4, hunched up in the back seat. His muscles bulge, easily filling the extra large jacket. His nose has clearly been broken a dozen times over, his face looking similar. He looks like a shaven ogre, and although quiet, he's been quite a sweet man despite his line of work.

"He's here," Haygarth says.

Mikhail goes through his jacket pocket, as Lucas opens the side door of the coach. He looks angelic, like a grown-up Cherub, with blond hair, rosy cheeks and a flashing smile. A woman is at his side, a little younger than you.

"Brother, thank you for the lift!" Lucas says. "This is Dasha. I really think she's a special one. Hop in, darling."

Dasha smiles nervously, getting into the car. She extends a hand to Mikhail, smiling.

"Hi, I'm Dasha. pleasure to meet…" Dasha says.

Mikhail grabs Dasha's head, quickly covering her mouth with his massive hand. He pours the bottle in his hand out onto a rag, soaking it, before pressing it tightly against her face. She lets out a muffled scream before slowly beginning to stop struggling. Soon, Dasha goes still. Mikhail props her up, and Lucas climbs into the carriage.

"She was a real bitch. Always saying she should stay with her friends, or tell them where she's going, or offering to pay for a hired coach home. If someone like that gets someone like me, they should just keep their fucking mouth shut," Lucas complains.

"Clearly she shouldn't have," you point out.

"Whatever," Lucas says, grabbing the cigarette and fumbling through his coat pocket for some matches.

"How long will that last?" you ask in reference to the chloroform.

"Six hours, give or take," Mikhail says.

"How long to the castle?" Lucas asks, lighting the cigarette.

"Three," Mikhail says.

"Four, yes, yes, definitely four," Haygarth says. "The roads are icy."

"Fantastic, let's get the fuck out of here," Lucas says.

[User] Four Hours Later...

[Assistant]
The coach drives inside the huge gates of the huge castle, as the sky turns gold and twilight fills the world with a beautiful feeling of serenity. The coach pulls into the stables, where Haygarth immediately gets to work with the horses. Mikhail opens the coach door, putting Dasha over his shoulder and walking towards the keep. You follow him, as does Lucas, walking alongside him as Dasha stirs with a groan, but doesn't break her slumber.

You walk into the keep, and quickly down to the dungeons. The large dungeon is covered with an earth floor, and four occupied cells. Four women, all of similar age and appearance to Dasha, all whose names you've forgotten, are there. Their mouths are gagged, though they scream desperately as they see you enter. Mikhail mutters a curse under his breath as he tries not to make eye contact with the women, but Lucas smiles and cheerfully waves at women. Mikhail carries Dasha to an empty cell, opening it and laying her gently on the cot inside. He locks the cell behind him, and looks at you both.

"The sun is down. Should we wake him?" Mikhail asks.

"Leave him. It's late. We'll wake him in an hour," Lucas says.

You nod, turning and walking away from the twins. You head up the stone staircase towards the kitchen. Despite the fact that this building is around a thousand years old, it's surprisingly well furnished. Count Grey has kept the house furnished with modern technology, one of the bonuses of controlling a tiny pocket of land and resources. As long as King Carol I got his taxes, he left Count Grey do as he pleased.

You open a cabinet, taking out a somewhat stale sugar cookie and biting into it. You make yourself a sandwich from cold meat, nuts and dates, and quietly consume it, while watching as the world blackens. Just as you see the first red haze on the horizon of the rising blood moon, you quickly turn and head quickly down to the Count's chambers. You hurry down the stairs, quickly heading to the lowest floor, at the center of the castle. Mikhail is already waiting in the dark room, empty except for a single, candle-adored coffin leaning against the stone wall.

The coffin in intricate, a large, black wooden coffin with an intricate, thorny pattern, and a single silver, demonic face with a roaring mouth with a pair of fangs on the front. You can feel the dark feeling emanating from it. It makes you feel cold just looking at it, and you shudder at the thought of what lies inside. Nonetheless, it is your duty to awaken your master.

Lucas hurries into the room,, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his heel. He looks at both of you.

"Oh good, we're all here. Let's do it, shall we?" Lucas says.

"Which one of us wakes him tonight?" you say.

Lucas smiles, holding up his bandaged wrist.

"I did yesterday."

Mikhail shows you the two-day old cut on his upper arm You draw your dagger, pressing it against your forearm and gently slicing it open. You take in a deep breath as you feel the sharp pain. Blood pours down your arm, and your press the open cut into the roaring mouth of the silver ideal, smearing it with blood. You count to three, before leaning in.

"Glorious Master, the night has come and the world is yours," you whisper.

You step back as the coffin door is pushed open. Inside stands the Count. Dried blood cakes the corners of his mouth, as he lets out a growl, flashing his long, curved fangs, that look sharper than a needle. His black, soulless eyes peer into yours, as you take a deep breath. You outstretch your arm, and he walks forward, grabbing you by the wrist. He brings your arm to his mouth, and begins to suck. He sucks the blood that pumps from your cut as you wince, before releasing you. Mikhail hands you a roll of bandage, which you quickly begin wrapping them around your wound. Count Grey walks away from you, strolling towards the lounge. He walks up the stone stairs, before heading to the glass window. He stares out at the darkness, and the rising red moon.

"Good... good..." he says. "Prepare altar. The Viceroys will be here soon."

You nod eagerly, and quickly head down to the dungeons, followed by the others. The gagged woman are in the cells, curled up and terrified. Dasha is still unconscious, which gives you pause.

"The new girl, Dasha, look at her," you say.

"What of her?" Lucas asks.

"She's still not awake. Maybe you used too much chloroform, Mikhail," you say.

"No, I used the normal amount. Maybe she had a medical condition," Mikhail says.

"Who the fuck cares?" Lucas asks.

"What if she's dead? We'll be one victim short? Do you want to be the sacrifice?" you say.

Lucas pauses, opening the cell and walking towards her. He drops to his knee, putting a hand against her chest.

"She's breathing. Just unconscious. The idiot must've used too much chloroform. She's alive, she'll do, alright?"

Mikhail shrugs, slinging the girl over his shoulder. Lucas opens the two other cells, grabbing the women inside and pulling them along by their hair. The girls are shackled, so they're incapable of struggling much, but any resistance leads quickly to a punch to the side of the head.

"Samuel, get the last two!" Lucas shouts.

You grab the cell keys, walking over. One of the girl stares at you with rage, the other sits in the back corner in terror. You open the scared girl's cell first, grabbing her by her chain. You drag her out of the cell, before opening the second cell and grabbing the more resistant girl.

"Don't fight me on this. You're not going to win this, and I don't want to hurt you," you say.

You pull on the second girl's chain, but she plants her feet down and stares at you.

[User] You hit the girl

[Assistant]
You swing your fist, smashing into the side of the girl's head, as she crumples to her knees. She lets out a pained moan through her gag, and as blood trickles down the side of her face, her eyes fill with fear. You pull on her chain again and she follows. You quickly lead the two along the hallway, before up the stairs, into the "church". You hear Count Grey's dark, cold, emotionless voice from the main hall.

"Welcome, Viceroys. Did you decide to come together, or simply met on the road here?"

"Coincidence, my lord," another far deeper voice booms, one more filled with malice and hatred than Count Grey's.

"Good, good. Haygarth!" Count Grey shouts.

"Yes, yes master?" Haygarth's voice comes back from the stables.

"Come, fetch the Viceroy's coats!"

"Yes, yes sir!" Haygarth says, quickly hurrying to them.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand. In front of you in a large, open stone room. Groves cover the stone floor, making the shape of a large pentagram. Lucas' two prisoners are kneeling at two of the points of the pentagram chained to a loop in the stone to prevent them from moving, while Dasha lies at the third, her unconscious state meaning she doesn't need to be chained up.

"Come on," you say, raising your fist to threaten the second girl. You force her to kneel on the ground and chain her to the loop in the ground. You drag the first girl to the other, doing the same.

Mikhail and Lucas stand off to the side, watching them. Mikhail looks down, looking vaguely embarrassed at his part in this. Lucas, however, seems ecstatic. He walks forward, grinning as he draws his dagger.

"Oh boy, look at that!" he says, dropping to his knees in front of a girl. "Look at that. You see the pentagram? You see those deep, thick groves? I'm going to fill them with your blood. You like that? You ready?"

The girl frantically begins to struggle, as Lucas smiles. Lucas slices the girl's throat open, as blood pours out, flooding into the grove and running along. The girl gurgles as blood pours through her throat, and Lucas lets the head fall to the ground over the grove, letting the blood pour out into it.

"Mikhail, come on, we need this ready for the Viceroys and Count Grey!" he says.

"I am not a butcher," Mikhail says softly, as Lucas' eyes narrow.

"Don't fucking take the high road. You drugged every whore here, knowing it was all so we'd slit there throats here. You're as much a murderer as I am."

Mikhail looks to the ground, opening his mouth as if to say something, but closing it just as quickly.

"That's what I thought. Samuel, grab your knife, let's get to work."

[User] You join in

[Assistant]
You sigh, drawing your knife as Lucas smiles.

"If you're going to lead to someone's death, at least have the fucking balls to be the one who uses the knife," he says.

Lucas walks over to the next girl, as you walk up to one. She tries to struggle, but you grab her by the hair, holding her vulnerable throat out and slicing it open with a long cut, before slowly lowering her head to above the grove. Lucas grabs the next girl by the hair, holding her forward and quickly slashing her throat as the blood pours out. You walk to the next one, quickly driving the sword through her neck, slicing open her fleshy throat and letting her bleed into the groove.

"Watch them die, Mikhail. You choose for this to happen. Whether you want to actually hold the knife or watch, you're a fucking monster. We all are. At least, we're willing to fulfill our role."

"Lucas! Mikhail! Samuel! Come down here!" Count Grey asks. "Quickly!"

"We need to go," Mikhail says, quickly turning and heading towards the door.

You quickly hurry towards the main hall, walking down the spiraling stairs. Count Grey stands there, alongside his three Viceroys, and Haygarth rushing to put away coats.

Viceroy Draven is a tall,well-muscled man. He has long, curly black hair, and instead of the black attire of the other three, he instead dons  steel plated armor which covers  him from the neck down.  A sword hangs by his side. From what you know, he's almost five hundred years old, once being and most likely still remaining a formidable warrior. He looks at you, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. He lets out a low, guttural growling at the sight of you. Even after years of work around Count Grey, the man manages to make you feel like little more than a blood bag.

The second, Viceroy Mihrab, is even older, almost as old as Count Grey. His skin seems unusually tight,  a light brown in complex, his face sunken, his eyes lacking any emotion whatsoever. He wears dark attire, his eyes glancing in your direction away for a second, before peering away with disinterest. He doesn't appear to be armed, but with the long, sharp fingernails on his hand that at that length qualify as swords as well as long fangs, he doesn't need them.

The final Viceroy, Alexa, is the only woman of te group. She wears a black hooded cloak, her pale, scarred face underneath, with unnaturally long fangs even for one of her kind to halfway down towards her chin. She leans against the wall, looking at you without a single noise. She stares at you like a starved wolf. Something tells you that of all those present, she's the biggest threat.

"Yes, master?" Mikhail says, standing up straight.

"Werewolves spotted on Hangman's Trail," he says. "They're amassing. Perhaps for a strike."

You pause, and can hear the distant howls of what lies between monsters and men.

"We'll push them back, sir," Mikhail nods.

Mikhail turns away, and quickly begins heading to the armory. You follow, and you all quickly descend the stairs to the armory. You walk inside, grabbing a padded leather duster and slinging it over. You grab a rifle, as well as several magazines of silver bullets, popping them in a satchel that you put over your head.

Now suitably armed, you grab a lantern, walking out towards the main hall. The Vampires have left, no doubt to partake in some drinks, discuss future plans, before beginning the ritual and, imbued with a power that grows as the blood moan rises, slaughtering dozens of helpless villagers.

You walk out the hall doors, pushing the door open and entering the dark night. You walk along the earth, passing the gate, which for some reason has been left open, one of the Viceroy's carriages sitting under the raised portcullis.

"Should we move it so we can drop the portcullis?" you ask.

"And piss off Count Grey and whoever owns this carriage? No fucking chance," Lucas says.

As you leave and wander off into the trees. Soon, the only sound is the crunching of leaves under foot and your breathing.

"Control your breathing. Deep breaths. Watch your foot placement as well as the path in front of you. Avoid twigs and try leaves. We're trying to hunt, best be quiet about it," Lucas says. "The man's most definitely untrustworthy and cruel, but he knows how to hunt.

You take his advise, holding the lantern out to illuminate the path ahead. You see a shape move to your right, and stop, immediately twisting to aim.

"Contract, left side!" you whisper.

"Just a deer, stay focused!" Lucas whispers. "This is a fucking hunting trail, of course there's deer around!"

You keep moving, you gun raised in your one hand, propped in the crook of your shoulder to allow you to aim.

The beam of your light comes across a deer lying on the ground. It's belly has been ripped to shreds, entrails covering the earth around it and soaking it with bodily fluids. It's head, connected to its body by a few strands of sinew and muscle, lies in the grass at the edge of the path, two lifeless eyes staring towards the stars.

"It's fresh, look out!" Lucas growls, as you immediately turn. You see a form rush through the undergrowth, aiming at it, but it's gone before your finger can even tighten on the trigger.

A growling comes from the trees to your left, and you swing your rifle over to aim at the beast. They're faster than usual. They're not supposed to be this fast. It must be that fucking moon!

A howl comes from your right, and you drop your lantern to aim, catching a glance of blood-matted fur and a flash of white teeth. The beasts don't seem to bee going for the attack, rather endlessly circling, toying with you. None of you have even had the chance to fire a shot.

Suddenly you see one of them, basked in the red glow of the moon, dead in the center of the path. This one stands directly there, hunched over and staring at you, clearly not scared in the slightest. It's abnormally large, not even wearing the tattered remains of clothes, covered in patches of fur. it's head is malformed, it's jaws filled with teeth that barely fit in its mouth, crushed into somewhat of a snout. It's hungry eyes stare at you, as it lets out a low growl.

[User] You fire

[Assistant]
You pull the trigger, as the silver bullet flies through the air. Through the grace of God, or whoever else, the bullet slams into the werewolf's head, smashing into his skull and sending bits of bone, chunks of grey matter and clumps of flesh and fur in various directions. The wolf's massive body stumbles forward, before collapsing to the ground with a thud. You hear a howl, which is immediately answered by dozens of other howls. There must be all the beasts here, stalking you through the forest, all of their power amplified by the power of the blood moon tenfold. Lucas and Mikhail also seem to notice it, immediately letting out a shout.

"Run!" Mikhail shouts.

You fling your lantern off to the side, setting a pile of dry leaves alight. A fire lights, as the fire quickly engulfs the leaves and grass, dry from lack of rainfall. The fire flares up, distracting the wolves for a split second. You sprint forward, desperately running through the undergrowth and bushes. You jump over a tree root, grabbing Mikhail and pulling him forward as he stumbles. You hear the roars of the werewolves close behind you.

You see one sprinting to your side on all fours, it's claws and hind-legs sending it hurtling forward, galloping to your side. It stares at you, howling skyward, as you keep running. You raise the gun, firing off to the side as the werewolf leaps out of the way of the bullet.

You hear wet, heavy panting, less than a foot behind you. The castle is close. barely a few hundred feet away. If you get to it, you might be able to get inside and bar the door, or drop the portcullis and keep the werewolves away. Still, you can see the golden hum of torches at the edge of your peripheral, showing the village closest to the house.

[User] You sprint to the castle

[Assistant] You keep sprinting forward, as Mikhail yells in pain off to your side a few seconds later. You hear him smack into the ground, and his terrified screams fill the air. You keep running, before you feel your back breaking as the werewolf's claw smashed into your hack, the knife-like claws cutting through your leather duster and slashing through your flesh. You roll to the ground with a scream, as the werewolf leaps onto you, it's weight crushing you. It's wet saliva dripping onto your face, it howls at the moon in an act of triumph, before it lunges forward, biting deep into your throat.


[System] You are narrating an interactive fiction game in a dark fantasy setting. Bring the world to life with vivid prose, react meaningfully to player choices, and don't pull punches when the story demands it.

[User] You stare into the Void

[Assistant]
As you stare into the gaping chasms, you think you see something flickering within, it is a quick flash of red…then it is gone.  As you keep staring the darkness seems to seep out of them and take over your vision.  You tremble and shutter and fall to the floor…

Time...time loops...


[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 shake your head

[Assistant]
That's the last thing you do before passing out.

And the last thing you'll ever do as Lars makes no attempt at reliving you.

End...