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New Eden 42

[ { "from": "system", "value": "CREATIVE WRITING:\none hundred and six sentences sentences\nMaintain character context\nGenre: comedy, fantasy", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After returning Newt and myself to our proper bodies, I examined my dead gobling inside my tent. A cursory inspection showed something unnatural at work. The corpse was decaying remarkably quickly only hours after death, and my sensitive nose detected none of the stench of rot the undead in me so relished. In fact, the corpse smelled hardly at all. I leaned close and sniffed it up and down. There was an odor of dirt, moss, and a dozen faint aromas this gobling would have collected from the forest. Of the gobling itself, there was nothing. Though it looked real and felt real and tasted real enough, it didn't seem to exist at all in smell. Such an anomaly could only be magic.\n\nNewt watched but had other interests. \"What's it like to fly?\"\n\n\"It's nice,\" I answered while running my fingers across the goblings square face.\n\n\"Nice?\"\n\n\"As a form of travel, it is very convenient. Although I think I prefer walking.\"\n\n\"You're not just saying that, are you? Just to make me not feel bad about not being able to.\"\n\n\"Not at all.\"\n\n\"Because I've always been led to believe that flying is wonderful.\"\n\nI flipped the gobling on its stomach and prodded it along its spine. \"Flying is like most talents. Everyone who can't do it assumes it must be greater than it is, and everyone who can knows it for what it is.\"\n\n\"You're talking in circles,\" he said.\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"I wish you wouldn't. It's confusing sometimes.\"\n\n\"It's meant to be.\"\n\n\"So is flying good or not?\"\n\n\"It's good, but I prefer having hands to wings.\"\n\n\"They're very practical, I grant you.\"\n\nI flipped the gobling back over and tore open its belly. I stuck my hands wrist deep into the cold innards. They were already dried and shriveled.\n\nNewt hopped on the table and watched as I yanked the goblings insides out. Again, there was no odor and barely any fluids. I catalogued the various organs as I spread them before me. Everything seemed in order.\n\nI dipped a finger in the brackish slime leaking from the gobling and licked it. I offered Newt a lick for a second opinion.\n\n\"Not bad. Kind of bland.\"\n\n\"Exactly. But when it was fresh, it tasted delicious. So unless gobling meat turns in a matter of hours, this fellow is gradually fading away, one sense at a time.\"\n\n\"Yes, so?\"\n\n\"That means something. Something important.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\nI hunched over the gobling and stared at it. Its one half-opened, orange eye stared back, defying me to glean its secrets.\n\nNewt abruptly brought up a new subject. \"I made some observations about your body while I was in it. Would you like to hear them?\"\n\nI didn't reply, engrossed in contemplation of the gutted corpse.\n\nNewt took this as a sign to keep talking. \"For one thing, you're much stronger than you let on. I bet you could break a man's neck.\"\n\nOnly half listening, I replied, \"At the proper angle, most easily, but a good witch doesn't resort to brute tactics.\"\n\n\"And another thing, I was studying your naked body ear­lier.\"\n\nI frowned.\n\n\"Don't worry. I was inside. No one could see me.\"\n\nI was too intent on the gobling to bother with a lecture.\n\n\"And I started thinking,\" Newt said. \"If this is a curse, why should you be so beautiful? At first, I thought a mistake had been made. Then I remembered our mistress saying once or twice that magic doesn't make mistakes.\"\n\nAs did I, and my attention shifted more to my familiar than the corpse.\n\n\"That is right, isn't it?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"Yes. Magic lacks only the will to act on its own,\" I said. \"That's where witches and wizards and the like come in. Through us, it finds purpose.\"\n\n\"You offer suggestions, and the magic acts upon those suggestions. Usually exactly as requested of it, since it isn't very creative on its own. But sometimes, just sometimes, it does come up with an idea it likes better.\"\n\n\"You're saying my curse made me beautiful on purpose.\"\n\nHis head bobbed up and down. \"If mistakes are impossible, then I'd have to believe so. And if you were intentionally made as beautiful as you are, then I asked myself to what end?\"\n\n\"I trust you came up with a theory.\"\n\n\"You're not a horrible beast meant to be skulking around in graveyards. You're a seductive predator, a ghoul wrapped in soft flesh that might draw men into your arms where they might find death in your loving embrace.\"\n\nMy carnal desires were closely linked to my appetite. Almost inseparable. In my undead mind, a good man and a good meal were one and the same. This bothered me. I didn't know why. I'd already resigned myself to never indulge in those twin pleasures of the flesh. But having Newt link them so closely and so logically made me realize how cursed I was.\n\nNewt meant it as a compliment. He looked at me differently now. It was a quiet awe, a newfound respect. I was a perfectly designed predator, even if I didn't want to be.\n\nRather than dwell upon it, I returned to my study of the gobling. I hastily stuffed the guts back inside, ran my fingers along the split torso, searing the flesh closed with magic. I held up the little, green body. Its vacant orange eyes rolled back in its head. Its black tongue hung from open lips.\n\n\"Well, my little friend, you seem dead, but I'm guessing you were never truly alive. Let's find out, shall we?\"\n\nI channeled my power for raising the dead into the gob­ling. There was no soul in the meat. There shouldn't have been, but I suspected the creature had never possessed one. If that was so, then any semblance of life or death was questionable at best. I ignored the absent soul and willed the gob­ling animate.\n\nThe creature jerked to life. As it was badly damaged and decayed, there wasn't much energy. It flailed its arms and legs limply. It flapped its wings. It gnashed its teeth and hissed barely audibly.\n\nNewt hopped back.\n\nI held the gobling down on the table. Even if the little beast wasn't real, I didn't want it to suffer. I picked up a dagger and put it to my forehead. I took a moment to put some magic in the blade and drove it into the goblings back. It popped like a soap bubble. Nothing was left behind.\n\n\"How did you do that?\" Newt asked.\n\n\"Quite easily.\" I laid the dagger aside and smiled. \"I unbelieved it.\"\n\nI didn't bother with further explanations. I saved that for the Captain and Wyst of the West. This discovery could be of great use to the soldiers of Fort Stalwart, providing they could understand it.\n\nThe tent flapped open. I reached for my hat.\n\n\"It's just me.\" Sunrise stepped inside. Penelope, who had been guarding the tent, hovered in beside her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I wanted to say good-bye before leaving. I assume you'll be staying.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is my duty to aid to the defense of these people from this sort of threat.\"\n\n\"Yes. Your duty.\"\n\nShe smiled wryly, and I guessed her thoughts. They were my own as well. It was an inevitable speculation that this gobling horde was merely a convenient excuse. That my true reason for staying stemmed from my growing affection for Wyst of the West. I denied the notion, but even I couldn't comfortably dismiss it. Even if it was true, I would still be of help against this menace.\n\n\"I trust the evacuation is going smoothly,\" I said.\n\n\"As smooth as could be expected. No one is happy about it, but none want to be here when the goblings arrive. The Captain has issued instructions that we should travel north and keep traveling unless we hear otherwise.\"\n\n\"A sound suggestion.\"\n\nAn awkward quiet filled the tent. I liked Sunrise very much. She was my friend and my mentor on the strange ways of the living. Now we were parting, and good sense told me this might be the very last time I ever saw her. I thought perhaps I wanted to hug her. But my upbringing left me uncomfortable with such close contact. I couldn't even remember ever touching my parents, and I'd only hugged Ghastly Edna once. And that was only after she'd been killed and surely a permissible exception.\n\nI decided this was not and trusted she would understand. \"Safe journey to you, Sunrise.\"\n\n\"Good fortune to you, witch. And to you, Newt, Penelope.\"\n\nMy broom dipped in a bow, and Newt nodded to Sunrise. She left my tent, and I began sorting through the various ingredients for the Captain's tonic.\n\nI knew the captain would have difficulty understanding what I had to tell, but understand he must if the men of Fort Stalwart were to stand a chance against the horde. I spent an hour tuning my presentation before finally limping off to speak with him.\n\nThe town-to-be was still, nearly empty. Where there had been dozens of lights, there was a lake of dark and quiet, deserted constructions. The stragglers skulked along the settlement like shadows, piling their possessions into wagons. I'd never truly lived among the humans, yet I felt sadder for their absence.\n\nAt the fort proper, I informed a soldier that I would need to speak with the Captain and would be waiting in his office. I unlocked the door with magic and found a seat. Newt sat at my feet, and we waited. Penelope entertained herself by sweeping the dusty floor. She'd collected most of it in a corner when the Captain finally arrived. He was not alone. Wyst of the West entered after him.\n\nNewt gurgled, but he didn't vomit. His tolerance for the White Knight's purity was growing.\n\nI lowered my head, pressing my chin to my chest and keeping my eyes low.\n\nPenelope kept joyfully sweeping.\n\n\"I trust this is important,\" the Captain said.\n\nI raised my head and glimpsed Wyst of the West. In a brief moment of fantasy, I imagined myself pouncing upon him to nuzzle and gnaw his face. I smiled slightly, despite myself. He smiled back, and I averted my eyes to the Captain.\n\nI reached into a loose sleeve and removed a small clay vial. \"A tonic of ill-taste. Pour it into the men's stew, and they'll taste horrible for days. Horrible enough to deter even a gobling's appetite.\"\n\n\"Thank you. Is that it?\"\n\n\"No. I've made a discovery about the horde. A discovery that could be of great help.\"\n\nThe Captain looked skeptical, but he almost always did.\n\nWyst of the West finally spoke. \"Something involving magic, I presume.\"\n\n\"Sorcery, to be exact,\" I replied while very deliberately not looking at him.\n\nGhastly Edna had taught me as much as she could about the other schools of magic. There were many, and all had their province. Wizards practiced the art of incantation, manipulating the world through words. Thaumaturgists mastered magic through science while shamans viewed it as a primeval force to be called upon through blood offerings and fireside dances. Witches held no solid opinion of magic but were wise enough to know that this in itself was an opinion. And sorcerers pursued the art of crafting illusions. There were countless other followers of the secret ways, and they were all right in their philosophy because magic generally acts as expected.\n\n\"I've dealt with sorcerers before,\" said Wyst of the West. \"They're not dangerous. All smoke and bluster.\"\n\n\"Mostly,\" I agreed, \"but even smoke has substance.\"\n\nI reached into my sleeve and removed a small lizard. I dangled the reptile by its tail. Its skin shifted from yellow to black to green to other random colors.\n\n\"I've never seen a lizard like that,\" the Captain said.\n\n\"That's because it does not exist save through my will and magic.\" I placed it on the table, where it skittered in small aimless circles.\n\nThe Captain tried to touch it, but it passed through his hand. \"Incredible. It looks so real.\"\n\n\"It's nothing. Any sorcerer's apprentice could do better, but it took a master to create a phantasmal horde of goblings.\"\n\nI allowed the Captain and Wyst of the West a moment to absorb the information.\n\n\"The goblings aren't real?\" the Captain asked.\n\n\"That's impossible. I've seen the damage they've done myself. Their rampage hasn't been illusion. Just ask the good people they've terrorized. Look at the land they're ravaged.\"\n\nWyst frowned. His lower lip stuck out, and I wanted so very badly to run my forked tongue across it.\n\n\"How can something not real cause any damage?\" said the Captain.\n\nThis would be the most difficult part, to teach these men that real and unreal, just as dead and undead, were merely a matter of degrees. Organizing my thoughts was difficult with Wyst of the West so close. Fortunately, I'd prepared in advance.\n\n\"I didn't say their rampage was imaginary. Merely that they are, in essence, no more real than this lizard I have made. Which I shall now unmake.\" I snapped my fingers, and the lizard vanished.\n\nThe Captain's eyes lit up. \"You can unmake the horde?\"\n\n\"This lizard was a weak illusion. The goblings are much stronger. So strong that even reality has been fooled into accepting them as true.\"\n\n\"So they are real.\"\n\n\"As real as a dream.\"\n\nThe Captain sighed. \"I'm getting a headache.\"\n\n\"They are a dream,\" I explained, \"but it is a dream shared by the world. And when every man, every beast, every tree, and every rock shares in the same illusion, then a dream can become reality. To a point.\"\n\n\"Well, if they're real enough to kill and ravage I fail to see how knowing any of this will help.\"\n\nWyst of the West agreed. \"Yes, witch. You said this would be of help, didn't you?\"\n\nHe looked into my eyes, and I didn't turn away this time. I had to smile, but I hoped it came across as vague and mysterious rather than beguiled by his dark eyes.\n\n\"Yes, the magic of the horde is potent, but there is a flaw. Even a shared dream is still just a dream. And dreams, like any illusion, can be dispelled by strong enough doubt and, in this case, a little magic. I can place just a drop of enchantment on your men's weapons. Enough that the slightest cut will unmake the dream.\"\n\nAgain, the Captain's eyes lit up, but he was ready to be disappointed this time. \"But?\"\n\n\"The men must know in their hearts, without any doubt, that what they find is but an army of phantoms to call upon the magic.\"\n\n\"An army of phantoms that are nonetheless real enough to devour them alive,\" the Captain said.\n\n\"There will be men. Those lacking enough imagination to even truly believe a shared dream. Others with too much that they suspect the whole world just a dream. Such men, properly armed, will be the horde's undoing. If there are enough of them.\"\n\n\"And exactly how many will be enough?\" the Captain dared ask.\n\n\"More than you will have,\" I replied honestly, \"but as the goblings are as close to real as phantoms can be, they can also be fought and killed without magic. Those few capable of unbelieving the horde will simply be more efficient. If you're fortunate, the unbelievers shall be enough to turn the tide.\"\n\n\"You don't sound very confident.\"\n\nI could make no promises, and I let the men know it with a somber face. The Captain was not as enlightened as I'd hoped, but now was a good time to make a traditional witchly exit without saying another word, leaving my audience both a little wiser and a little more befuddled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Wyst of the West stood between me and the door.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 77 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stepped aside as I passed close. I thought him repulsed by my mask of ugliness, but he kept looking me in the eye. Repelled people never did that. Then again, rarely did I look in someone's eyes, but I couldn't stop myself. Sunrise had been right. Those eyes, those ears, those shoulders, that dark, delicious flesh, and that pure, brave soul. Those were my reasons for being here.\n\nThose reasons nearly spoiled my departure, but I found the will to turn from that pleasing face. I walked out the door, very proud of myself for making it with my witchly dignity intact. I paused outside to gasp and shudder free of the tingles left within me.\n\nOnly then did I realize I'd forgotten my limp and my hunch. Such mistakes were unforgivable, but they paled beside the absence of my familiar and my broom. They were supposed to follow me out of the office. Now I faced a dilemma. Either go back and retrieve them, thus destroying whatever shreds remained of my dramatic exit, or return to my tent without them. The door opened while I debated. Newt walked out. Penelope floated behind him.\n\n\"Sorry,\" he said. \"I was so busy holding down my dinner, I didn't notice you leave.\"\n\nPenelope jiggled an apology of her own. The Captain's dusty floors were certainly a terrible distraction for the poor dear. It was her broomly nature.\n\nI forgave them. I'd suffered my own diversions in Wyst's presence. Penelope drifted into my hand, and Newt took his place at my side. I hunched deeper and dragged my leg as if raising it off the ground would cause it to snap off.\n\nI made it only eight sluggish steps before the White Knight's voice called to me. \"Hold, witch.\"\n\nA desire to run seized me. I didn't know which direction. Away seemed wrong. Toward him seemed wrong too.\n\n\"Yes?\" My voice crackled from a dry throat, very witchly and entirely unintentional. I kept my back to him.\n\n\"I just wanted to thank you.\" I thought I sensed a nervous tone in his words, but I was no master of human behavior.\n\nI turned my head enough to glimpse his fuzzy silhouette from the corner of my eye.\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"These people are fortunate to have you.\"\n\nI offered no reply\n\n\"You've given them a chance.\"\n\n\"They always had a chance,\" I said. \"My contribution merely lessens the likelihood of a massacre. Victory shall be hard won still. Men will die, and they will likely die in vain.\"\n\nHis tone became somber. \"Yes. I know.\"\n\nWitches don't look at death itself as good or evil. Like any force of nature, it could be neither and both. But these people were under my charge, and I had no desire to see them throw away their lives as dinner for a horde of phantoms.\n\nWyst of the West said nothing. He turned and walked away. I did the same, allowing myself some small pride for maintaining a witchly demeanor.\n\nNewt chuckled. He wanted me to ask what he found so amusing, but I wasn't interested. This didn't deter him. He chortled and snickered all the way back to the tent, and when I didn't ask why, he finally offered his opinion without solicitation.\n\n\"You should just bed and devour him and get it over with. It's going to happen sooner or later. Putting it off is just diverting your attention.\"\n\nI didn't want to get into this argument. It wasn't that I dismissed his opinion. It was just something I didn't want to hear.\n\n\"It's more than infatuation,\" he continued. \"I'm not saying normal impulses aren't involved, but I think there's more to it. Fish swim. Tigers hunt. Goblings eat. You seduce. It's your nature. It's what you're designed for.\"\n\nI stared ahead and offered no comment.\n\n\"I would imagine you're very good at it. Carnal relations, I mean. And this White Knight can't have much experience. Your passion alone would probably kill him. Then you could devour him, and we'd all be spared those embarrassing scenes in the future. Not to mention your grumbling stomach.\"\n\nIt was true my stomach did grumble ever so slightly in Wyst of the West's presence. I'd hoped none had noticed. I hurried to my tent to get something to eat as quickly as my false limp allowed.\n\nNewt kept his bill shut for the rest of the evening. He merely sat in the corner and chuckled in a galling manner. I would've scolded him, but I was too busy sating my appetite. I devoured three rabbits and two pheasants whole. Fur, feathers, bones, organs, everything. I ate until I could eat no more, until I felt as if another bite would surely split my belly open. Yet my hunger remained, and all the pheasants and rabbit flesh in this world would never satisfy my appetite. Only Wyst of the West could do that.\n\nThis was more than a smitten heart, more than even lustful desire. This was my curse at work. I was not made for chastity. My instincts had chosen Wyst as my prey, but if we'd never met, they would have picked another. Temptation could only be avoided by absolute isolation, but I'd developed a taste, so to speak, for people. I'd have liked to believe I could find a village of lepers or ogres or ogre lepers to live among, but the same dilemma would present itself in time. Be they men, ogres, gnomes, kobolds, or any other such creature, I would find a target to seduce and consume. It was my nature.\n\nAnd, suddenly, darkened misery seemed a very welcoming place indeed.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Add to story with matching character/world context. Focus: comedy, fantasy. Include: humor.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't want to bother enchanting every sword in the fort when we'd be fortunate to find ten men of the correct nature. I had better uses for my time. I devised a simple but effective test for the soldiers and began administering it the next morning. The Captain lent me the kitchen for that purpose.\n\nGwurm helped by managing the line, and Penelope busied herself by sweeping dust from one side of the kitchen to the other. Newt sat and watched. He found each test most amusing.\n\nGwurm let the two hundred and fourteenth soldier leave and let in the two hundred and fifteenth, a man of undistinguished features. They were all beginning to look alike. He stood before me. I held up a stone and spoke without looking at him.\n\n\"This rock is not real. It has only the substance your perceptions give it. Do you understand?\"\n\nThere was a pause when I imagined he was nodding, but I couldn't say as I wasn't looking at him.\n\n\"Yes. I believe so,\" he said.\n\n\"Good.\" I tossed the stone between my hands. \"Now I will throw this imaginary rock at you, and as you understand it is not real, it will not hurt you.\"\n\nI cocked my arm and hurled the rock. He didn't flinch. It struck him in the stomach, and he doubled over, gasping. This was expected as the rock was quite real.\n\nNewt fell over in a fit of quacking hysterics. \"Oh, that's great.\" He panted breathlessly. \"That never gets old.\"\n\nThe soldier straightened. His face reddened and scowled. I understood his anger, but he'd passed the test. The first to not recoil from my \"imaginary\" stone. It was perhaps cruel to pelt a man with a real rock but conjuring a phantom stone was a waste of magic when the genuine item worked as well.\n\n\"Your name, soldier?\"\n\n\"Pyutr, ma'am.\"\n\nI wrote it on my list of potential unbelievers. The list consisted solely of his name at the moment.\n\n\"You may go now\"\n\nNewt chuckled. \"That was almost as good as the one you tagged in the groin.\" He collected the stone and returned it to me. \"But my favorite was the soldier you hit in the shin who did all the swearing and the little dance.\" He hopped about in a reenactment, remarkably accurate given the differences between a man and a duck.\n\nThe next soldier appeared, and Newt sat eagerly.\n\n\"This rock is not real...\" I began once again.\n\nMy familiar stifled a chortle. Tears ran down his watering eyes.\n\nSo it went the remainder of the morning. Soldiers came in. I gave my speech. I threw my rock. Newt heaved with laughter. The Captain was my last test. He failed. He sat and rubbed his bruised knee while checking the list.\n\nHe couldn't read it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "meta: IMPORTANT: 'practical' should appear 2 times in total", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My parents had neglected such education, and Ghastly Edna had never learned herself. The lore of witches is taught through doing, not reading. But writing was a useful skill, so I'd developed my own script of squiggles and symbols I found both lovely and practical. Though it always seemed to be evolving, growing more sophisticated over the years, I never had any trouble reading it. I think there was magic involved. I wasn't so much creating a new script as discovering an old one that never was.\n\nThe Captain handed over the list. \"Will there be enough to do the job?\"\n\n\"Thirteen,\" I said. \"You'll be lucky if six are possessed of the skepticism required.\"\n\n\"And will six be enough?\"\n\n\"I couldn't say.\"\n\n\"Damn it! I thought witches knew the future.\"\n\n\"Knowing what will be is not the same as knowing how it will come to pass.\"\n\nThe Captain sighed. He was a man very near the breaking point, and I pitied him. I was tempted to give him an answer and tell him I knew the future. Somewhere in my tomorrows lies either vengeance or death or both. But, of the brave men of Fort Stalwart, Ghastly Edna hadn't made mention.\n\n\"No one can catch tomorrow.\"\n\nThe Captain grinned. \"Very true. And almost wise. Tell me, did they teach you such nearly enlightened yet vaguely mysterious phrases in witch's school or do you make them up as you go?\"\n\n\"I little of both,\" I admitted.\n\n\"It must be tiring, speaking in riddles and circles.\"\n\n\"Sometimes.\"\n\nNewt quacked, warning to be wary of sharing too much with the Captain. Part of the witchly ways is to maintain a veil of mystery. Witches should never be thought of as human, even if they usually are. Once I'd asked Ghastly Edna the reason for this tradition. \"Because that is the way it has always been\" had been her answer.\n\nI'd admitted too much to the Captain already, but I couldn't see the harm. He'd likely be dead in a few days. This saddened me. He was a good man. Not handsome or dashing or especially competent, but good. I had no desire to see a good man wasted.\n\nMy mouth watered. He wouldn't have triggered such a response normally, but I was under tremendous stress. It made holding to a strict diet all the more difficult.\n\nIf the Captain noticed my grumbling stomach, he was polite enough not to mention it. I excused myself to begin my enchanting. Thirteen swords would require a few hours of work.\n\nNewt once again spoke up without prompting. \"If you're not going to eat the White Knight, you should pick someone else. One soldier won't be missed, and even if it didn't solve the problem, it should tide you over until the goblings get here.\"\n\nMy familiar made sense as he so often did. The demon in him knew how to make evil seem practical and necessary. It was true that one soldier would not be missed, that if his sacrifice served to give me strength to concentrate on more important matters, then it could be worth it.\n\nThis was assuming that consuming a man I didn't truly desire would satisfy me. It seemed just as conceivable that it would only serve as an appetizer. Once I gave in to the impulse, I might find myself incapable of eating just one.\n\nWyst of the West could probably satisfy me for a long time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Captain might appease my stomach for a month or two. I doubted an ordinary man could keep me full for three days. The only way to find out was to actually devour a man. Regardless of any moral dilemmas, now was not the time to study my cannibalistic urges.\n\nOn our way to the armory, Newt whispered temptations. \"Oh, there's a nice, fat one. Bet he'd fill you up. Or how about that handsome, young specimen. Lots of lean muscle.\"\n\nHe shut up while I asked the weaponmaster for his thirteen finest swords. While he retrieved them, Newt murmured, \"A tasty morsel, don't you think?\"\n\nI waved my broom in small circles over him while mumbling.\n\n\"What are you doing?\"\n\nI touched him lightly on the head, and all his feathers fell off in one instant molt. He was still gaping at the pile of white fluff when the weaponmaster returned. Gwurm took the bundled swords from the weaponmaster, who ogled bald Newt but didn't say anything.\n\nOther soldiers lacked his control. They pointed and laughed at the featherless fowl. Gwurm merely smiled while Newt threw annoyed glances. It was a hard lesson for a duck that wanted to be terrifying, but it kept him quiet.\n\nGwurm dropped the bundle on the bench outside my tent. \"If you won't be needing me for anything, I should be drilling with the men.\"\n\nI wished him well and granted him leave. He cast one last amused smile in Newt's direction.\n\n\"That's a good look for you,\" said Gwurm. \"Nothing scarier than an angry plucked duck. If you cut off your head, you'd be every cook's worst nightmare.\"\n\nRage flashed in Newt's eyes. He looked about to pounce upon the troll. I didn't know who would kill who in a fight, and I had no desire to find out just now.\n\n\"Newt, inside.\"\n\nMuttering, he did as told.\n\nGwurm left for drills, and Penelope decided to go with him, merely looking for an excuse to visit the fort's dusty floors again. I had no objections. She just wanted to be helpful. I doubted the soldiers would appreciate their dust-free fort, but in times of trouble, we all must contribute what we can.\n\nNewt poked his head out of the tent. \"This isn't permanent, is it?\"\n\nThe spell would only last until dusk, but I didn't tell him. I even suggested that perhaps Gwurm had a good point, and I was thinking of magically removing his head. Not only would it make him a more proper witch's duck, but his cast aside skull sounded like a tasty snack. He disappeared back inside with a disgruntled quack.\n\nI laid out the swords on the ground before me. Thirteen was a nice witchly number. It was a quirk of magic that enchanting thirteen swords was easier than one or twelve or fourteen. Only the magic knew why this was, and it kept these reasons to itself. But magic, by its very nature, defies true understanding. It follows its own rules, and often ignores those rules when it feels like it.\n\nI arranged the swords in a circle, blades outward. Then I sat in the ring's center and spent the next four hours with my head down, mumbling, and enchanting.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Technically, witches do not enchant. We curse. It's a slight difference. I endowed the swords with the power to dispel illusions in the right hands, but as they were cursed, any man who called upon the magic would age a day for every phantom destroyed.\n\nCursing is tedious, uninteresting work. Most witch magic is not particularly flashy. It gets the job done without making a big show. Wizards love throwing up their hands, bellowing, and shooting sparks in the air. Or so Ghastly Edna had taught. It was their stock and trade. But witchly showmanship was mostly in the feigned madness, pointed hat, unflattering frocks, and raspy crackles.\n\nSeveral hours of uninterrupted cursing later, I took a break. I opened my eyes. The swords shimmered with half-finished magic. It was coming along nicely, and I stood with a slight smile.\n\nI turned and saw Wyst of the West sitting on the bench beside my tent. I had no idea how long he'd been there. It could've been hours. It was an old witch's trick to pay him no mind and act as if I'd known he was there all along and merely had yet to address him. I hobbled into the tent, right past him, and poured myself a bowl of boar's blood, kept warm and salty by magic. Newt glared but wasn't speaking to me. I didn't ask if he'd noticed how long the White Knight had been waiting.\n\nI took a sip of blood, wiped my mouth, thought better of it, and took another drink without wiping it away. I let the red cover my upper lip and dribble down my chin. Just enough I reckoned to be unappealing without overdoing it. Then I stepped out of the tent, walked past Wyst of the West once again, and paced a slow circle around the thirteen half-cursed swords.\n\nHe had yet to say anything or even make a noise. I decided I'd been witchly enough.\n\n\"Do you plan on sitting there all day?\" I tried to sound as if I didn't care, but truth be told, his presence unnerved me. Only Ghastly Edna's superior schooling prevented me from showing it.\n\n\"I've come for the test,\" he replied.\n\n\"There's no need.\"\n\nHe stood, looking very insulted. \"You tested every man in the fort. I see no reason I should be an exception.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"I saw no reason to bother with a test that I'd already know you'd fail.\"\n\n\"What makes you think I'd fail? I understand well what you've told me about these goblings.\"\n\n\"Understand perhaps. But to understand is not always enough.\"\n\n\"Are you going to test me or not?\" It was the first time I'd heard him sound even remotely cross.\n\nRather than argue the point, I agreed. I found a flat stone, explained its \"imaginary\" nature, and threw it right at his face. He didn't flinch. The stone stopped an inch from his nose. It hung there a moment, held by his protective aura, before falling to the ground.\n\n\"Now do you see? There's no way to know if you held your ground because you believed me or because you knew your magic would protect you.\"\n\nHe nudged the stone with his boot. \"I see, but I also know that I believed you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, I think you did, but sometimes understanding and belief aren't enough. You've spent too long hunting this horde. No matter how much you think you understand, no matter what your strength of will, some part of you will always think the goblings real.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He looked as if he might argue but thought better of it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I asked, \"And what do you need an enchanted sword for when you already possess a fine magic sword yourself?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He adjusted the weapon on his hip. \"The enchantments on my weapon only serve to give courage to the men who fight by my side and keep the blade ever sharp and rust-free. But for phantom goblings, it has no special powers.\"\n\n\"I'm certain it will serve you well enough when the time comes.\"\n\nWyst drew his enchanted weapon. Sensitive as I was to light and capable of perceiving the powerful magic blazing on the blade, I winced. Such potent enchantments were the stuff of legend, the product of years of master enchanters. Anyone who looked upon the unsheathed weapon would feel either invincible by the White Knight's side or stricken with sickly fear if standing against him. My eyes adjusted to the brightness just as he returned the weapon to its scabbard.\n\n\"That is a great power you carry,\" I remarked.\n\n\"A great power for great good.\"\n\n\"Or great tragedy,\" I whispered.\n\nHe heard anyway. \"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nThere was no hiding the anger in his voice this time. \"Stop talking riddles, and speak plainly!\"\n\nI allowed myself a long glance at his pleasing face. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he glared. I should have thrown a half-wise, half-mad chuckle at him and gone back to my sword cursing. It would have been the witchly thing to do. As I so often did in the White Knight's presence, I fumbled my witchfulness.\n\nI limped close to him, keeping my head stooped and one squinted eye aimed at his chin. \"Without your magic, you couldn't convince a handful of men to stand against the gob­ling horde. When the time comes, many will die.\"\n\n\"They are soldiers. It is their duty.\"\n\nI allowed myself a chuckle. He was trying to convince himself more than me.\n\n\"True, that is,\" I agreed. \"But that does not change the fact that most would have abandoned their duty without your influence.\"\n\n\"Those without honor.\"\n\n\"True, that is too, but the common man would trade his honor for his life any day. And precious few would throw it away on a lost cause.\"\n\n\"This is not a lost cause.\"\n\nI hobbled away and whirled my hands in a peculiar way. \"Perhaps not. Perhaps it is merely a nearly lost cause, an almost fool's crusade. But these soldiers would care little for such distinctions.\"\n\nWyst of the West stood rigid. He gripped the hilt of his sword with white knuckles. \"These men fight, and yes, some will die, to prevent greater disaster.\"\n\n\"Again, this is true. But in the end, no matter how right the fight, no matter how necessary the sacrifice, you will ultimately be responsible for whatever happens.\" I lowered into a deep crouch and spoke with a rasp. \"That is a burden I wouldn't care for myself.\"\n\nHis form went slack, and I glimpsed a terrible weariness in his eyes, if only for a moment. I knew then I'd struck a nerve. It was the witch's way to help men face such hard truths, but Wyst of the West needed no help. His was a virtuous soul, and every death must have weighed heavy on that soul.\n\nHe stood straight again. His sadness disappeared behind a mask of sobriety. \"The order teaches that evil and injustice must be fought, that they cannot be ignored and wished away by good intentions. That sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.\"\n\n\"Yet another undeniable truth.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I sat in the circle of swords, making it seem as if getting to the ground was a great effort for weak knees.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I lowered my head and waited for him to go away.\n\nHe didn't.\n\nI sat there with my eyes closed and thought distracting thoughts. I mentally recited remedies and secret witchly lore and anything else to keep me from thinking of him. Underneath all that strength and virtue, Wyst of the West was still a man. As vulnerable to guilt and regret and the pain gathered simply through living. I wanted to comfort him, to clutch him to me and push away his pain if only for a little while. Such compassion was forbidden by my trade. And my curse.\n\n\"One last thing, witch,\" he said.\n\nI kept my head down and my eyes closed. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"How is your duck?\"\n\nI called for Newt. He emerged from the tent in all his embarrassed baldness.\n\n\"Oh, my. That isn't my fault, is it?\" Wyst asked.\n\n\"It's his own doing,\" I replied. \"Nothing serious. He'll be fine in a day or two.\"\n\n\"Glad to hear it.\"\n\nThe White Knight and I exchanged brief glances. I couldn't offer him a comforting hug, but his burdened soul was lightened by my plucked familiar. Wyst of the West smiled, and I smiled back. Then he bid us good day and left. I didn't watch him go.\n\nNewt waddled to my side. \"If you're not going to eat him, can I at least kill him?\"\n\n\"I very much doubt you could.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Just the same, I'd be willing to give it a go.\"\n\nHe strolled back into the tent, and I went back to work.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "WRITING ASSISTANT ENGAGED\nCONTEXT: Mid-narrative fragment\nNOTE: Established characters may appear\nOUTPUT: 145 sentences\nSTYLE: A. Lee Martinez\nGENRES: comedy, fantasy\nTAGS: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "The days before the gobling horde's arrival were busy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The soldiers drilled relentlessly with the aid of the White Knight's inspirational presence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The goblings were certain to rely on sheer crushing numbers. The men of Fort Stalwart, in turn, would have to rely on superior teamwork. They were arranged in groups of three who were to stand back-to-back-to-back. In theory, this allowed every man to concentrate on the dangers at his face. In practice, I suspected it would not go so smoothly Men would surely break when confronted with dozens of gnashing teeth despite the Knight's presence. Once a soldier of a trio fell, the other two were presumably close to follow. But there was no denying the transformation of clumsy, inept soldiers into a determined, if not especially skilled, fighting force.\n\nI was very busy myself. Each day, I borrowed Newt's body and checked the goblings' advance. They progressed directly for the fort. This was no coincidence. Just as the phantasmal men had been sent to kill Ghastly Edna, so this horde had been made to destroy this outpost. I was certain of that. For what larger purpose, I couldn't say. My mistress and this fort had nothing in common, save their isolated and harmless nature. Yet they weren't random targets.\n\nI thought much on this conclusion. Ghastly Edna had never mentioned any sorcerers with grudges against her, and this imaginary horde was powerful magic for such an insignificant fort. I couldn't see the reason for either attack, but there was time enough for such mysteries after the gobling horde was destroyed.\n\nNewt's spirits rose as the horde neared. Giddiness replaced his sour disposition. Every day meant his chance to kill drew closer. The demon in him looked forward to bloodshed. Any bloodshed. The trees near my tent bore deep gashes and slices from hours of his own restless practice. Opportunities for outright slaughter were rare, and he wanted to be in top form when the time came. Sometimes I'd watch him rehearse. During an especially zealous session, he felled a pair of trees with a single swipe of each wing. He hacked them into kindling amid satisfied quacks.\n\nGwurm and Wyst became good friends. My troll developed a great respect for the White Knight. It was not exactly hero worship, but it came close. I saw no harm in it. There were worse men to admire, and Wyst of the West clearly came to value Gwurm's friendship. He saw Gwurm as more than merely a valuable addition to the fort's barely competent fighting ranks. More than once, I glimpsed the troll and the Knight conversing on breaks between drilling. Gwurm, being of good humor, could even bring a smile to Wyst's perpetually somber face on occasion.\n\nSuch smiles were all too brief. Wyst was an attractive man, but he was undeniably handsome when he smiled. It was a crooked grin, and a dimple showed on his left cheek. Every time I glimpsed it, I couldn't help but smile myself. And fantasize about things unwitchly.\n\nAs for my broom, she grew more anxious every passing day. She started sweeping everything in sight with a nervous fever. Getting her to sit still was next to impossible. I had to hold her tight on those times I needed her at my side. Penelope twitched even then. Had I not been strong as I was, I wouldn't have been able to keep hold. But at least it looked properly witchly to see me wrestle and scold my broom on occasion.\n\nI myself was so busy that my cannibalistic urges fell to the wayside where I easily ignored them. After cursing the swords, I spent a day recruiting beasts to the cause. I spent another mixing medicines for after the battle, assuming there would be survivors. A dubious assumption, but it was always best to be prepared. Another two days went in the pursuit of collecting and bottling various spirits found deeper in the forest. I found some rot nymphs nesting in a dead log, and a slumbering earth lord in an apple seed. Nothing that would be of much help in the conflict, but some wonderful finds still.\n\nFinally I performed a ritual of good fortune on Fort Stalwart and its men. I walked through the fort mumbling, occasionally screeching, sometimes merely shouting, dipping my fingers in a bowl of water, and sprinkling it about to ward away evil spirits. None of it was true magic, but made the men feel better knowing their witch was hard at work, and they'd need every last scrap of confidence when the time came. Ghastly Edna had always said that in most cases, false magic was just as good as the real thing. Sometimes even better.\n\nThen came the day when I met with the Captain and told him that this would be the night. Fie took me at my word and didn't even bother to send out scouts to double-check. I was pleased to have earned his trust. He took the news well, but he'd had time to prepare himself.\n\n\"Can I ask you something, witch?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Why are you still here?\"\n\nI'd already asked myself that question sometime during those days. The answer was an easy one. I cared about this town-to-be, these people. My vengeance motivated me as well. The defeated horde would lead me to its creator, but revenge was not my true purpose. I wanted to destroy this threat and restore Fort Stalwart to all her bustling status. She was but a ghost now, a memory of what she'd been. I missed her, what she was and what she might become provided she wasn't devoured by goblings.\n\nPart of me wanted to share this with the Captain, but another part knew better. I'd already become too familiar with him. He regarded me too much as a person and not nearly enough as a witch. So instead of answering the question, I did what any good witch would do and offered a cryptic reply that could mean as much or as little as he wanted to make of it.\n\n\"Everyone must be somewhere, and this is as good as anyplace else.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"One day, you'll give me a straight answer.\"\n\n\"One day.\" I pulled my hat low. \"Perhaps.\"\n\nThe evening before the battle, I borrowed Newt's body for one last scouting flight. I drifted low over the trees, not really thinking much on the goblings. At this point, the horde occupied little of my thoughts. While the men of the fort clearly grew more preoccupied at the prospect of this fight, I hadn't been taught to think like that.\n\n\"Worrying is a fine thing, dear,\" Ghastly Edna had said. \"To worry is to acknowledge that the world is unpredictable, and there is power in understanding one's own powerlessness at times. But too often, worry takes on a life of its own. Men are quite prone to this. They'll plague themselves with so many 'what if's and 'if only's that they soon forget to ponder the true possibilities before them. Which inevitably leads to poor decisions. Whatever happens will happen. Sometimes we have say over the future. Sometimes we do not. Either way, worrying alone never accomplishes anything.\"\n\nSo I didn't. I'd done all I could, and when the time came, I would do more. For now, it was all just waiting.\n\nThe sun had nearly surrendered all its light to dusk as I settled in the middle of the gobling horde burrows. The creatures stirred restlessly in their holes, readying for the night.\n\nThe gray fox stepped from the bushes to greet me. \"Good eve to you, witch.\"\n\n\"Good eve to you, fox. Still alive, I see.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She grinned slyly \"I'm afraid these goblings haven't proven nearly the challenge I'd hoped. I'm just far too clever.\"\n\n\"There are worse faults,\" I said.\n\n\"Very true.\"\n\n\"Your game may well end tonight.\"\n\nThe fox nibbled at her fluffy tail. \"I was growing bored with it anyway\"\n\nBraver goblings crept from their burrows. They kept to the shadows. Their eyes glittered all around us.\n\nI spread my wings. \"I must be off then. Good game to you, fox.\"\n\n\"Good battle to you, witch.\"\n\nI took flight as the goblings closed in on the gray fox from every direction. She scratched lazily behind her ear.\n\nSeveral more ambitious goblings scampered up a tree and tried to fly after me. Three immediately tumbled from the sky. Imaginary goblings flew no better than the genuine beasts. Two others managed to reach me though one kept spinning around with each flap of its wings. That one, I simply dodged without bother. The other tried to bite off my foot. I crushed its skull with a single demon-infused kick and kept on my way, leaving the chattering shrieks of the horde behind. As expected, they were going the same direction as I, toward Fort Stalwart.\n\nThe fight wouldn't take place in the fort proper but in a clearing to the south. It was here that the goblings would emerge from the denser woods at their present course. The soldiers would meet them there within sight of Fort Stalwart.\n\nI'd summoned a touch of magic to push away the clouds and coax the moon full and bright. It was nearly as clear as day. The battle would be dangerous enough without men stumbling about in the dark. The soldiers were most impressed with this feat of magic that in truth was the easiest task I'd done of late. But men think of the heavens as vast and uncontrollable along with anything else they cannot touch.\n\nWord had spread that tonight was the night. Every man had known it was coming, and a grim anticipation had been hovering over Fort Stalwart. It ceased hovering and pounced upon the soldiers' hearts. Wyst of the West's magical aura of gallantry kept outright terror from claiming most, but even the White Knight's impressive enchantments could only dull the fear, diminishing it to a grim trepidation, a quiet frightfulness.\n\nThere had yet to be any last-minute deserters, proving how powerful Wyst's magic was. Even without it, he was a presence of heroic determination. Everyone knew the White Knights capable of great deeds. Legends of such circulated through the fort as the men clung to their fading courage. It helped calm the fear because none realized that for every valiant, impossible triumph against impossible odds, there were thousands of forgotten foolhardy slaughters. But Wyst of the West was so certain of victory, even I couldn't deny it as an almost forgone conclusion at times. Glorious feats might be accomplished when men gathered their will together, and Wyst had enough will for all the fort's soldiers. And then some.\n\nWyst of the West stood at the forefront. The Captain and Gwurm took their places at his side. I landed before the Knight and called upon a small magic to speak in my own voice and not Newt's.\n\n\"They'll be here within the hour.\"\n\nThe Captain sighed heavily. Gwurm kept to sharpening his sword with a stone. Wyst of the West kept staring sullenly into the woods. Though I knew worry lay in his heart, he kept it from his face.\n\nThere was one small preparation left me. I flew to the back of the battlefield where Newt waited in my body along with a small assembly of thirty-nine bats and thirteen owls.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They stirred as restlessly as the men.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I returned Newt and my souls to their proper flesh and held up a bowl of thick, dark red liquid.\n\n\"You must drink this.\"\n\nThe first bat crawled forward and lapped at the contents. He twisted his already twisted face. \"This blood has gone bad.\"\n\n\"It has always been bad. It is the blood of the undead, my blood. I sprinkled in some spices to make it more palatable.\"\n\nThe beasts each took their sip, complaining in turn.\n\nTime fell away while we waited. It didn't stop. Nor did it drag or pass very quickly. It just ceased to be. One moment claimed the field. A moment of waiting that saw soldiers milling about both anxiously and fearfully. Some wanted to get it over with. Others wanted it to last as long as possible. And finally, mercifully, the waiting ended.\n\nOrange pinpoints shimmered at the forest's edge. First dozens. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Countless pairs of beady, shining gobling eyes gazed upon the army they'd come to slaughter. The shadowy creatures kept in the darkness, and it was easy to imagine the horde as a single, enormous beast with ten thousand eyes and slavering jaws.\n\nAs it turned out, there was a bit more waiting to do as the horde took silent measure of the army. I found it hard to believe the horde knew fear, but there was no mistaking its hesitation. It had come expecting the element of surprise, to devour half the soldiers before they were even awake. Now it faced a prepared foe.\n\n\"What are they waiting for?\" Newt asked, his voice dry with bloodlust.\n\n\"Death comes in its own time,\" I replied.\n\nHe threw a glare. He wasn't in the mood for one of my witchly phrases.\n\nPair by pair, the orange eyes slipped back into the darkness of the wood. The army murmured in confusion. Some no doubt even entertained the notion that the horde had retreated. I knew better.\n\nThe earsplitting shriek of ten thousand gobling voices shattered the air. Goblings poured from the forest in a great cloud. Truly, more of a hopping tide as most goblings in the air crashed to earth within seconds. There were so many. So many more than even I'd conceived of. And they just kept coming.\n\nThe army took several steps backward. The men were seconds from breaking into chaos when Wyst of the West drew his enchanted sword. Its gleaming power washed over the soldiers and gave them the courage they needed. He shouted the charge. I don't think anyone could have heard over all the horde's shrieking, but the White Knight dashed forward, sword held high, and the men followed him into battle.\n\nNewt ruffled. The demon rose up in his flesh. The only sign of this was a bloodthirsty burn in his eyes.\n\n\"Not yet,\" I said.\n\nThe army and the horde collided. Despite all the rigorous training and my own contributions, I half expected the gob­lings to gush over the soldiers, reducing them to a field of bloodred grass and gnawed bones. This was how most of the men in the front of the charge fared. An avalanche of gob­lings buried many Others ran about with the beasts clamped to their throats and limbs. There were screams, certainly, but nothing could be heard save the hungry shrieks of the horde. It looked as if the army would only serve as the horde's next meal. Then the miraculous happened. The soldiers started fighting back. Even more miraculously, they actually did so with some effect.\n\nOf course, a soldier couldn't swing a sword in this battle without striking a gobling or three. Yet the horde mingled with the army without overwhelming it. It was impossible to see much in the chaos. Goblings died in the groves. Men fell. It was too early to guess as to who would be the victor, but as nearly all the army remained unconsumed, I could only take this as a good omen. And reading omens is a witch's trade.\n\nGoblings spread from the orderly jumble of the battlefield and, naturally, many scrambled my way. I let them approach close enough that I might glimpse the wrinkles under their shining orange eyes.\n\nI threw up my arm, thrusting my broom high. A needlessly dramatic gesture, more worthy of a wizard than a witch, but even witches are allowed to indulge themselves on occasion.\n\nNewt bellowed with all his demonic might. His ferocious quack was the first sound I'd heard over the goblings' cries. He bound forward, wings spread, head low, drooling just a bit. The bats and owls flew after and over him. The beasts had drank my blood, taken on my will, and were instruments of my own unbelief. The contingency of goblings disintegrated with every slashing claw and biting fang. Some popped like bubbles. Others deflated into empty skins. Others only partially disappeared, losing limb, wing, or even head to glancing slices. My flying beasts kept on. There weren't enough to face the true horde, but they could circle the battle, striking down any goblings trying to slip from the field.\n\nAs for Newt, his job was to keep the goblings from pestering me. He was a gobling-slaying whirlwind. His fervor manifested in an artful variety of slaughter. Disemboweling. Beheading. Dismembering. Chopping. Mincing. De-boning. No two goblings died exactly the same way Truly, Newt was an artist, and I felt bad he didn't get to exercise his talent more often.\n\nWhile the men, bats, owls, troll, and demon duck fought in the defense of the realm, I found a stump to sit on and watch. There was nothing else to do. I could pick up a sword and slay goblings, but this would've been unwitchly and wouldn't make much difference. One more sword wouldn't turn the battle. Until some difficulty of a more sorcerous kind appeared, my part was done.\n\nNewt took his place at my side. Yellow gobling ichor covered him bill to webbed toe. He grinned widely. \"Well, that's that. Seems none of the little beasts want anything more to do with us anymore.\"\n\nThe piles of goblings slain by Newt's razor-sharp bill and serrated feathers lay close by, and the rest decided that was enough. I expected Newt to ask permission to rejoin the battle, but he hopped on the stump. He curled up beside me, looking happier than I'd ever seen. If nothing else, at least he'd gained something from this. I stroked along his slime-drenched neck.\n\n\"They're doing better than I expected,\" he remarked. \"The men, I mean.\"\n\nI reckoned the volume of gobling shrieks to have lessened by half, but I also guessed half the army to have fallen. The army and the horde were too evenly matched. Wyst of the West's training and my contributions had prevented a slaughter. But if the army stopped the horde at the cost of every man's life, then victory would belong to the goblings. Sorcerous illusions could be remade. Dead soldiers stayed dead.\n\nI searched the madness of the battle for familiar faces. Wyst of the West, Gwurm at his side, appeared among the throng. The Captain wasn't with them. Wyst and Gwurm struck down dozens of goblings before being swallowed into the chaos. I glimpsed soldiers carrying my enchanted swords and found them to be every bit as effective as I'd hoped. Goblings dissolved beneath the cursed blades, but for every one slain, ten rose to take its place. It was a contest of tactics against numbers. After a while, I stopped watching and studied the stars, only barely hearing the cries of goblings, the wet slice of blades cutting into flesh, and the ripping of teeth and claws. It was a lovely night, and the undead in me enjoyed the stench of sweat, blood, and ugly death rising from the field.\n\nWisely, I'd eaten a big meal before the fight to keep my curse from distracting me. Dark thoughts still whispered. I was so busy ignoring them that when my opportunity finally came, I almost didn't notice.\n\nIt started as a ripple in the ether, the ambient magic in the air. Powers were being invoked. The horde's shrieks lowered in pitch. Goblings stopped fighting and burrowed, kicking up clouds of dust. They disappeared into the earth, leaving a field of confused soldiers and gobling corpses.\n\n\"Are they giving up?\" Newt asked.\n\nI knelt down and put a palm to the ground. The world below throbbed with raw magic. Whatever, whoever, was behind the horde was changing the rules. Victory through defeat wasn't enough.\n\nSlimy flesh bubbled from the holes. What had once been ten thousand goblings was now one hideous amalgamation, a creature of nightmares that could only exist through darkest sorcery. The soldiers didn't know what to do with this new foe. They stood confounded as mounds of eyes, mouths, limbs, and wings grew in the field. The countless little faces growled.\n\nFinally, Wyst of the West attacked. His enchanted sword sank into the mass of gobling flesh up to his wrist. Wyst struggled as the blob sucked him up to his shoulder. Then, with a satisfied bellow, the horde swallowed the White Knight whole.\n\nMy heart stopped. Its beating wasn't strictly necessary, but this was the first time it had ever just ceased its reliable rhythms.\n\nThe field exploded, and the beast revealed itself in all its terrifying power. The horde towered one hundred feet high. Tendrils shot out and dragged men to gruesome deaths. The air filled with screams and crunching bones.\n\nWyst had been the army's courage. Faced with this horrible foe, the men broke. They scrambled for their lives. It was the wisest course of action. The horde could no longer be defeated by enchanted blades or heroic determination.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Stay here, Newt. You too, Penelope.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 52 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What are you—\"\n\nI strode forward through the rush of fleeing soldiers. They were too panicked to notice my lack of limp. When my hat fell off, I doubted anyone gave it much thought. The horde swept forward, a ravenous tower of phantom flesh. Too powerful for an army but wholly vulnerable to one witch willing to do what she must.\n\nWhat once had been ten thousand illusions was now one. Tremendous in size. Awesome in might. Terrifying in its endless devouring hunger. But while I couldn't destroy ten thousand phantoms, one—even one of such sorcerous might—was far more vulnerable.\n\nPerhaps I was walking into the horrible death Ghastly Edna had prophesied. Even stranger, perhaps this was my vengeance. Not for my mistress, but for Wyst of the West. Even if I couldn't love him, I could avenge him. He'd given his life to stop the horde. I could do no less.\n\nThe horde paused before me. Its countless eyes studied this morsel standing before them. For a moment, I thought it might have sensed my trap, but I was too tempting a snack. With a hungry snarl, the horde rushed forward and engulfed me.\n\nIt was dark and hot inside the beast. I couldn't see. I could barely breathe. The horde's insides smelled of rotting meat and pungent decay. Things brushed against me. Tortured screams reached my ears. There was death in the darkness, a death terrible enough to repulse even my own accursed nature. Dozens of sharp fangs tore away bloody chunks of my tempting alabaster flesh. Acrid saliva burned my nostrils and my skin. I ignored the agony as best I could. I thought of Wyst and how his lips might have tasted had I ever gotten the chance.\n\nHow long I remained in the belly of the beast I couldn't say, but suddenly the horde stopped eating me. It uttered a low, queasy grumble, and I found myself vomited into the cool night air. I hit the ground a bloody mess. Had I truly been alive, I most surely would have been dead. My curse wasn't bothered by such trivialities as being half devoured. My right leg was tattered, red flesh ending at the knee. The skin and muscle of my hands and fingers were stripped to the bone. When I drew in deep breaths, air slipped away through gashes in my throat.\n\nThe mountain of goblings quivered. Its thousands of mouths grimaced. It swayed to and fro and came crashing down in a groaning mound of slime. The illusion had eaten my flesh, and in my flesh was the power of my unbelief. And unbelief, along with witchly magic, was a most virulent poison to a phantom.\n\nThe horde convulsed as it dissolved. It blackened and shriveled. It whined and hissed. Within minutes, it was nothing more than a pool of greenish goo. Eyes and teeth and soldiers' corpses were strewn about, covered in yellow muck. In the middle of it all lay Wyst of the West.\n\nHe stirred and groaned. He was covered in slime. Uneaten. Alive.\n\nAnd my heart started beating again.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: The user will provide text (may include established elements) then you write 50 sentences sentences maintaining same character/world familiarity.\n\nGenres: comedy, fantasy\nTags: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My curse restored me with such potent efficiency that I was whole by the dawn. Even my stump of a leg grew back as strong and whole as if it'd never been lost. For a while at least, I looked witchly without having to work at it. It made tending the wounded easier.\n\nAnd there were a great many wounded and remarkably few dead. Men had fallen, but their teamwork had kept the goblings from finishing the job in most cases. Of Fort Stalwart's five hundred soldiers, only a hundred numbered among the dead. Over three hundred were injured. Some had only been nibbled on, able to patch themselves up without my help. Many more had been devoured to various extents. There was an epidemic of missing parts. Men were made of so many bite-sized pieces: ears, fingers, lips, noses, hands, feet. Though men preferred having all their parts, their loss wasn't truly life-threatening with some rudimentary treatment.\n\nThere were far fewer men needing more from me. Those more seriously wounded were usually dead. Though men were delicate creatures, they might survive grievous harm that surprised even me. Perhaps survive was too strong a word. Rather, they managed to put off their death for a few hours. I did what I could for those fading heroes, but even a witch's magic can't stave off death when it must come. I accepted this with the wisdom that all men must perish eventually.\n\nJust an hour after dawn, after I'd treated the rest of the men, I reported to the Captain's quarters. Like most of the soldiers, he hadn't survived the battle unscathed. He'd lost his right hand down a gobling's snapping jaws. Strangely, this didn't bother him in the least. He was too glad to be alive and considered himself fortunate. Justly so. Other men had lost much more.\n\nNewt shuffled in behind me, covered in dried gobling goo. The Captain and Wyst of the West looked me up and down.\n\n\"You're looking better, witch,\" the Captain remarked.\n\n\"That which does not kill me rarely bothers me for very long. It is my curse.\"\n\nHe glanced at his bandaged stump. \"Doesn't seem like much of a curse to me.\"\n\nI smiled. \"As all good curses should seem.\"\n\nOf all the men, only Wyst of the West remained unharmed. His enchantment had prevented a single gobling bite, even after he'd been swallowed whole. This wasn't to say he was invincible. I was certain if I hadn't unbelieved the horde, he would have suffocated in its gruesome folds.\n\n\"How are the men faring?\" Wyst asked.\n\n\"Well enough. Most will live, but many will never fight again.\"\n\nWyst nodded solemnly. \"Their brave sacrifice will be re­membered.\"\n\nThe Captain chuckled. \"I don't think so. When people speak of this battle, they won't talk of the soldiers. They never do. No, they'll remember the courageous White Knight who led the fight.\" He nodded my way \"Perhaps the witch who finished the horde. History remembers its heroes and villains. Everything else is lost to time.\n\n\"It's as it should be. To fight and die is expected of every good soldier. And honestly, without your help, we'd have been slaughtered. The victory is yours, not ours.\"\n\nThis was only half true. Certainly the men would have perished alone against the horde, but neither Wyst nor I could have defeated the goblings without the army's support. But heroes are carried on the backs of a thousand forgotten faces.\n\nWyst of the West almost argued the point.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Right or wrong, that was the way of the world's memory.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It doesn't matter,\" the Captain said. \"Right here, right now, we're alive. The horde is beaten. The realm is saved. That's why I called you here, witch. To offer you a taste of my favorite wine.\" He held up an hourglass-shaped bottle. \"I save it for special occasions. I think this qualifies.\"\n\nHe poured three glasses. The deep red liquid looked like blood but smelled of sweet grapes that had grown in a patch near Ghastly Edna's cabin.\n\nWyst politely refused his glass. \"I don't drink wine.\"\n\nThe Captain grinned. \"Very well. More for the witch and I then.\"\n\n\"I don't drink wine either,\" I replied, \"but I will take a glass.\"\n\nI held it under my nose. The scent reminded me of home.\n\n\"I could use a drink,\" said Newt. His quiet act had finally lost its appeal.\n\nNeither man seemed surprised by Newt's sudden speech. He was a witch's duck after all. If he wasn't going to be midnight black or fanged, then talking seemed only appropriate. He hopped on the table, and the Captain cheerfully poured my familiar a drink.\n\n\"To victory,\" the Captain toasted. He tapped his glass on my own and Newt's. He gulped down his drink while Newt lapped at his and I inhaled pleasant remembrances. I allowed the Captain his moment, all too brief alas. Then I ended it.\n\n\"The horde has been defeated, but its shadow remains.\"\n\nThe Captain set his wine aside, a quizzical expression on his face, but Wyst of the West knew what I meant.\n\n\"The goblings are dead, aren't they?\" the Captain asked.\n\n\"As they were never truly alive,\" I replied, \"they could never truly be killed. But they are as dead as phantoms can ever be. No, the horde is finished, but it was never the true threat.\"\n\nThe Captain drew in a deep breath. \"More riddles, witch?\"\n\n\"No riddle.\" Wyst clasped his hands behind his back. He looked me in the eye, and I didn't look away. \"The goblings were a product of sorcery. Whatever power created them sent the horde here for a purpose. Just because the horde was defeated, doesn't mean they won't try again.\"\n\nThe Captain paled. \"Another horde?\"\n\n\"A possibility,\" I said, \"but I think not. The horde was beaten. Whatever comes next, and something will come, will not be so easily defeated.\"\n\nThe Captain lowered his head. This was news he didn't want to hear. \"Easily? Are you saying we could be facing something worse?\"\n\n\"I'm not. Because I will find the sorcerer responsible. And I will kill him.\"\n\nNewt quacked for more wine, which the Captain poured. \"How?\"\n\n\"His own magic shall lead me to him. I leave tomorrow.\"\n\n\"And I'll go with you,\" said Wyst.\n\nI looked deep into his eyes and he into mine. \"As you wish.\"\n\nI'd already known he would be coming along. As a White Knight, it was his obligation. I welcomed the company. Not only because he was an able champion, a worthy ally on a dangerous journey. But because after thinking him dead, I'd realized just how much he'd come to mean to me. My limited experience told me I was no longer smitten. This was something more. And I sensed it, or perhaps merely hoped it, within Wyst of the West as well. I couldn't deny it any longer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I tapped my broom twice on the floor. \"Come, Newt. We must prepare for our journey.\"\n\nNewt slurped down the last of his wine and followed me out the door. I cast one last glance over my shoulder at Wyst.\n\nHe smiled, but it was a slight smile. I tried not to make it more than it was. What could a handsome, chaste White Knight want with a hideous, undead witch?\n\nNot two steps out the door, Newt had to contribute his opinion. \"Why are we taking him along? He'll just distract you.\"\n\nHe expected me to argue, but he was quite correct. Even now, my mind was a splintered fragment of properly witchly thoughts and fleshly desires. Such diversions could only hinder me on my destiny, perhaps even lead me to my horrible death.\n\nAnd honestly, I didn't care a whit.\n\nGwurm added a few more imaginary, dead goblings to the small pile outside my tent. \"Is that enough?\"\n\nI nodded, standing before the mound.\n\n\"They're already starting to turn,\" Gwurm observed. \"I don't think they'll last more than a few hours.\"\n\n\"I don't need the corpses. Only the raw magic within them.\"\n\nI grabbed a gobling from the pile and held it over a bowl. I stared into its crossed eyes and mumbled. The green corpse dissolved, melting between my fingers. Most of it evaporated into the true nothing that it was, but a few silver drops fell into the bowl. Newt and Gwurm leaned closer to watch the shimmering fluid slide like a living thing up one side of the bowl and down the other. I quickly snatched another gobling and repeated the procedure. My companions watched for a while, but the distillation of phantoms quickly grew boring.\n\n\"What happened to your nose?\" Newt asked.\n\nThe troll felt the hooked, red protrusion on his face. \"You don't like it?\"\n\n\"The old one looked better. This one's the wrong color. And it's far too big for your face.\"\n\nGwurm sighed. \"I know. Unfortunately, my old one was eaten by a gobling.\" He sniffed and snorted and flared his nostrils. \"I was hoping it might look distinguished.\"\n\n\"No. Just big. But the purple eye looks good. Old one get eaten too?\"\n\n\"Sucked right out of the socket by one of the little bas­tards.\"\n\n\"Where'd you get the parts?\"\n\nGwurm patted the pouch on his belt. \"It pays to be pre­pared.\"\n\n\"What else have you got in there?\"\n\nGwurm opened the pouch and glanced inside. \"A tongue, some teeth, a terrific big toe I save for special occasions.\" He tied it closed. \"And of course, my unmentionables.\"\n\n\"What unmentionables?\"\n\n\"Well, if I could mention them, they wouldn't be unmentionables, would they?\"\n\n\"Oh. So that's where you keep them.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" Gwurm replied. \"Where else would you expect? Wouldn't be polite to walk about with them dangling for all the world to see, would it? Not to mention I prefer them wrapped up nice and warm. Promotes reliability when I need them.\"\n\n\"I guess.\" Newt grinned. \"But it seems an awful small pouch to be carrying all that.\"\n\nGwurm twisted his new red nose with a displeased frown. \"I'll have you know it's not the size of your unmentionables, it's how you use them.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He popped off the nose, snarled at it, and snapped it back on, upside down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That looks better, but you might drown if it rains.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word restriction: Use 'yellow' 3 time(s) only", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The troll spun it into its proper position and shrugged.\n\n\"You know what you should have done. You should have put on the bad nose before the battle. That way, you'd still have your old one.\"\n\n\"That's a very good idea. I'll have to remember that next time.\" He crossed his one yellow eye and one purple eye to glare at the nose. \"Are you certain it doesn't look even a little bit distinguished.\"\n\n\"No. Just big and red.\"\n\nGwurm growled.\n\nNewt chuckled.\n\nIt took but an hour to distill the goblings into their raw magic. The tall mound was reduced to a small bowl of fluid silver. It throbbed, ebbing and expanding as if breathing. Newt and Gwurm watched as I coughed up a wad of phlegm and spat it into the pure sorcery. The yellow and red lump lay atop the liquid. I waved a hand, grunted, and the spittle sank slowly into the silver with a bubbling hiss. The ooze darkened and gurgled.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Newt asked.\n\nIt was a pointless question. I couldn't explain it to him. In many ways, I didn't know myself. Witch magic is not an exact craft, and Ghastly Edna's tutelage had never been rote study. Rather, it was more of an art, an intuition. My mistress couldn't have taught me magic for every situation. Life was far too unpredictable. But I knew this would work. I knew without knowing.\n\nI poured the bowl's contents onto the dirt. The dull gray liquid swirled, broke apart into a dozen tiny puddles, and rejoined. I bent down and broke the surface with two fingers. It rippled, and in its depth, images formed. The art of divining is nothing more than clearing your mind and trusting the magic to show you what it wished. So I watched, and I learned.\n\nNewt stared into the depths by my side. He didn't see anything beyond the slipping gray and black patterns. Certainly they looked pretty to his eyes, but he couldn't glimpse the shapes within shapes. There were fields of grass, a forgotten road, a bridge, bothersome half faeries, a river, and a place of memories forgotten. A land that didn't exist waited at the end. It wasn't an exact map but a journey of images that would make sense in its own time.\n\nThe silver pool burned away in a slow yellow flame. The scent of seared moss and wet wolf hair was left behind. A patch of grass spontaneously sprouted, uprooted itself, and scampered away as a random aftereffect of the universe reabsorbing the raw magic.\n\n\"Did it work?\" Newt asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You saw the way to our vengeance?\"\n\nIt was technically my vengeance, not his. But demons have a great passion for revenge, and I was willing to share. I was less concerned with avenging my mistress. Preventing Fort Stalwart any more woe was more my true goal. Motive was irrelevant, and if by doing one I accomplished the other, then this would be a stroke of good fortune.\n\n\"When do we leave?\" Newt asked with a grin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Soon.\"\n\n\"How far is it?\"\n\n\"As far as it is.\"\n\n\"Will there be perils?\"\n\n\"Most certainly.\"\n\n\"What sort of perils?\"\n\n\"Oh, the usual sort, I expect,\" I replied.\n\nThe grin faded from his bill. \"You don't have to talk in circles with me. I'm your familiar.\"\n\n\"Yes, but it's good to keep in practice. Now, go clean yourself up.\"\n\nNewt was far too excited to get upset. He dashed into the tent to wash the gobling slime from his feathers. He stuck his head outside the flap. \"Are you certain we have to take the White Knight along?\"\n\n\"Quite certain.\"\n\nHe was far too zealous to be bothered by this either.\n\nGwurm was still fussing with his red nose. He'd twist it one way, then another. Nothing looked right, especially since I sensed a streak of vanity in the troll. Men might find it strange that such an unsightly creature cared so much about one misshapen nose. Though Gwurm was the only troll I'd known, I felt positive he was quite handsome by trollish standards. Even if I was wrong, one didn't have to be beautiful to be vain.\n\nI held out a hand. \"Can I see it a moment?\"\n\nHe plucked off the offensive crescent and gave it to me. I clasped it in both hands, pressed my palms together, and rolled them in four small circles. Then I held up a new nose. It was his exact shade of gray and rounded, less hookish.\n\nHe twisted it onto his face. \"Eye dinkyu furgud sumdin.\"\n\nI took back the nose long enough to poke out two nostrils. He held it between fingers and thumb and studied it with one squinted eye. \"Not bad. Strong without being overbearing. Excellent symmetry. And I think it will add some character to my profile.\" He plugged it into place and pretended to gaze thoughtfully in the distance. \"What do you think?\"\n\n\"Quite handsome,\" I replied. \"Perhaps even a touch dis­tinguished.\"\n\n\"Do you really think so?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\nI started toward my tent.\n\n\"I couldn't help notice you're whole again,\" Gwurm said.\n\nI held up a hand that only hours ago was a few threads of bloody flesh clinging to bone. Now there wasn't even a scar. I wiggled the fingers and didn't feel a stitch of pain. My new leg was as strong and reliable as the old. I'd known myself practically immortal, but I'd never been hurt so badly before. I'd hoped the damage would at least last the day.\n\n\"I didn't want to make you feel self-conscious,\" Gwurm said. \"I just wanted to tell you that when I first saw you dragging yourself across the field, just after you'd defeated the horde, that I thought to myself that you were the most dreadfully appalling sight I had ever laid eyes upon, a corpse mocking death and all the natural world.\" He adjusted his nose a little to the left and smiled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Just something I thought you'd like to know.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I kept my back to him to hide the blush upon my cheek. As men and trolls, even witches had their vanity.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "I'll be your writing partner today. I will set the scene (which might reference existing characters and worldbuilding), and you will continue the story with nine sentences, channeling the voice and techniques of A. Lee Martinez.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had Seen a tiring day, and both my familiar and my troll fell asleep soon after dusk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My undead nature denied me sleep once again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Penelope didn't ever sleep, though such things were difficult to discern with a broom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I passed the long night staring into the sky and reading the stars.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A voice interrupted my stargazing sometime in the early morning hours. \"Looking for something?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I didn't glance down at the gray fox standing by my feet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Still alive, I see.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes. Those goblings were a tremendous disappointment. Although I did enjoy the battle. Very colorful. Very unpre­dictable.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You were watching.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Curiosity is an affliction I bear proudly as a fox. So you'll understand that I must ask, what do you hope to see up there?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I stopped gazing long enough to glimpse the fox's grinning face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nothing. And everything. Isn't it enough to just look at the stars?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know.\" Her tail flicked side to side. \"I've never found them very interesting. But we beasts aren't of the mind to see them as men do. They're too distant. Just something to fill the part of the sky not occupied by the moon.\"\n\n\"That's how most men perceive them,\" I said.\n\n\"Well, men aren't as far removed from animals as they might pretend. Their hands are their gifts, not their minds.\" She lay in the grass and rolled on her back. \"Tell me, what does a witch see in the sky?\"\n\n\"Omens.\"\n\nShe squinted and scanned the heavens from one horizon to the other.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What does an omen look like?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Everything. And nothing.\"\n\nThe fox chuckled lightly. Whereas Newt found my witchly way with words annoying, she appreciated the twisted and turning phrases. \"Can we beasts see omens?\"\n\n\"I don't know. If any beast can, I would imagine a clever and curious fox could.\"\n\nShe rubbed her nose with her forepaws in a show of humility. \"Then I think I'll watch with you.\"\n\nThe fox joined me in my omen-searching, and being both clever and curious, she soon spotted a sign in the twinkling heavens.\n\n\"Is that one?\" she asked of a pair of shooting stars.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes. You have a good eye.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's it mean?\"\n\nI help up my hand as if to touch the sky. \"It portends the birth of a monster in the southlands, who shall one day threaten a kingdom.\"\n\n\"My, that is a good one.\"\n\n\"Very good. You've got a knack.\"\n\nShe looked a short while before picking out a row of five twinkling stars.\n\n\"Ah, another excellent find. Those stars speak of a love that is doomed to be swallowed by the sea.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\nI nodded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beside being clever and curious, the fox was also skeptical. She asked about a patch of clouds she expected to have no significance. A notion I corrected.\n\n\"Somewhere, a curious fox is asking questions.\"\n\nShe squinted at the moon. \"Is everything an omen?\"\n\n\"When one knows how to see them, the universe shares its secrets easily. Perhaps too easily. In the hooting of the owls I hear of a fort's soldier suffering a terrible nightmare. In the fluid waves of the grass, I see a termite mound waging war against a neighboring anthill. Those falling leaves, their swirling flights speak of a priest's indigestion and a serving girl's stubbed toe at the same time.\"\n\n\"Must be terribly distracting.\"\n\n\"It is. But only at first. Then one learns to ignore the vast, trivial majority. That is the real talent. Not in seeing omens, but in not seeing them.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So I gathered. But I must say I am glad to be a fox and not a witch. I wouldn't want to learn something to unlearn it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's a great deal of unlearning in the witch's trade,\" I admitted. \"There is a limit to how many forbidden secrets a mind can safely carry.\"\n\nWe resumed omen-watching. As I was in an oracle's frame of mind, I still glimpsed the occasional portent. Nothing too important. Just the stomach flu of a king I'd never know whispered by a gossiping breeze and the pure joy of a new mother somewhere to the north shown in dancing shadows. A flight of birds told of a continent that would be sunk by a careless wizard's apprentice. That one could be prevented, but as I didn't see which continent or when, I gave it little thought.\n\nA stag dashed from the wood, chased by a wolf. The wolf caught the stag, sinking her teeth into its flank, but he kicked free. By the time the stunned wolf had regained his senses, the stag had escaped.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The disappointed wolf skulked away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spontaneously, two plump, dead geese fell from the sky. They landed but thirty feet from the wolf, who didn't notice and walked away hungry.\n\n\"That must be a terrific omen,\" said the fox.\n\n\"Actually, that is just a very unlucky wolf.\"\n\nThen I finally saw my omen in the face of the moon. It spoke of a dangerous journey being undertaken. It was a vague sign, and without a doubt, it spoke of a hundred such journeys across the world. But I relied on my witchly judgment and decided it applied to my quest as well. Even if it didn't, I was tired of waiting.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You'll excuse me, fox, but I must seek out my vengeance.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Early hour for vengeance-seeking,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The first hints of dawn were tracing the edge of the horizon.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All things come in their own time.\"\n\n\"Might I ask one last question?\" Her curiosity compelled her to ask without waiting permission. \"This quest of vengeance you're about to begin, did you see danger in it?\"\n\n\"It would be a poor quest otherwise.\"\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"More than enough, my good sense tells me.\"\n\n\"Do you mind if I come along then?\"\n\n\"You're very welcome to.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She started toward the woods. \"Very good. I'll see you along then.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nThe fox turned and grinned. \"I said I'd see you along. You won't see me. Good vengeance to you, witch.\"\n\n\"Good following to you, fox.\"\n\nShe disappeared into the darker shadows of the forest.\n\nGwurm slumbered beside my tent in his usual slumped posture. In this light, he looked very much like a snoring rock.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I smacked him across the back with my broom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What would have been a bruising crack to a man was barely a tap to the thick-skinned troll. He raised his head and untangled his limbs. Trolls were either awake or asleep, and he stood instantly alert.\n\n\"Is it time?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Should I fetch the White Knight?\"\n\n\"No need.\"\n\nI stirred the air with my fingers, and a morning mist descended from my hand. It gathered at my feet in a soft blue cloud.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(authors note, Just for the next scene, use occasional dialogue)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mist rose as playful air spirits danced within, visible as glimpses of dancing shapes. The cloud zipped around my head and beneath Gwurm's legs.\n\n\"That's enough now. Off you go.\"\n\nThe mist giggled and floated off toward Fort Stalwart.\n\nI went into my tent and found Newt. He proved harder to wake than Gwurm. Though he had a passion for vengeance, he was also prone to moments of laziness. Such contradictions were part of his demon nature.\n\n\"It's not even dawn yet.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I began filling a sack with witchly odds and ends I might need on this journey.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I grabbed up mixing bowls, bottled spirits, healing herbs, and my moldy squirrel hide.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was strange how such a little thing could mean so much. It reminded me of Ghastly Edna, my home with her, and my new home here. Just rubbing the thinning fur between my fingers made me feel better. Not all magic lay in death curses, hungry phantoms, demon waterfowl, and animate brooms. Most magic wasn't even magic. It just was. Smiling, I placed the hide against my cheek.\n\nNewt sighed sleepily and opened one eye halfway. \"That's a very big sack to be carrying.\"\n\n\"Gwurm can manage it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He jerked awake. \"We're not taking him along, are we? Bad enough we have to bring the White Knight. This whole journey is going to be a long, queasy stomach for me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "CONSTRAINT: Include 'secrets' 2 time(s)", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For a duck, he groused very well.\n\n\"You'll get used to it.\"\n\n\"Don't you think it would be a good idea to leave someone behind to watch the tent.\"\n\n\"Are you volunteering?\"\n\nHe sputtered.\n\n\"Perhaps you're right,\" I said. \"Wouldn't do to have mere mortals nosing about, discovering forbidden secrets only witches are supposed to know.\"\n\n\"Well, that's true, but what is a witch without her familiar at her side?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I can think of none I trust more with my secrets.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Newt flapped and hopped.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There's Gwurm. What about Gwurm?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I dropped my squirrel hide into the sack.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I didn't think you liked him.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[Author's note: Your task: Include 'fighter' 2 time(s) in your response]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course, I don't.\" He shook his head and puckered his bill. \"He's too smart for a troll. And he gets along too well with the White Knight if you ask me. Especially for a witch's companion. But he's loyal. I have to give him that.\"\n\n\"And trustworthy?\" I posed.\n\n\"Very trustworthy!\" Newt shouted enthusiastically.\n\n\"And good to have around when danger is about?\"\n\n\"Yes! I mean, he's strong and a good fighter.\" He swore under his breath. \"An adequate fighter, but his trollish nature more than makes up for his lack of talent.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Word frequency rule: 'seems' × 2)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see. So he's loyal and trustworthy, strong, perhaps a little too intelligent but good to have at your back when facing peril. All in all, he seems a very good companion for a dangerous quest of vengeance.\"\n\nNewt's bill dropped open. \"I didn't...\"\n\n\"Yes, you make an excellent point. It seems foolish to not take him along.\" I smiled. \"Thank you, Newt.\"\n\nHe glared when he thought I couldn't see, but I glimpsed it from the corner of my eye. It was his own fault for engaging a witch in a duel of words. Ghastly Edna had taught me the way of twisting dialogue.\n\n\"As for my secrecy...\" I held up a crooked stick decorated with tatters of cloth, black and red feathers, and beaded strings. A grim badger skull sat at the top.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The charm had no real power other than invoking superstitious fear in mortal minds, but it was protection enough.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All my secrets would be traveling with me. The totem was a witchly touch, something to remind Fort Stalwart who lived in this tent and who would one day be returning to it, fate willing. I also thought it was rather pretty for a hideous, fear-invoking fetish.\n\nGwurm poked his head in the tent. \"The Knight is here.\"\n\nNewt belched wetly. \"I know.\" He smacked his bill and stuck out his tongue.\n\nI stepped outside. Wyst of the West and his gray horse stood beside Gwurm. I cast each a fleeting glance and stabbed my stick into the earth.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I adjusted it to a crooked angle and took a moment to admire it.\n\n\"You summoned me, witch?\" Wyst asked.\n\nI traced three fingers on the badger's skull. It turned a shade of dark red as if covered in blood. I tapped it again, and it shifted to a deep black.\n\n\"The spirits have spoken. It's time to begin.\"\n\nWyst of the West offered me a horse for the journey, but Gwurm proved suited for the job. His shoulders were wide and comfortable, and there was enough room for me and Newt on one side and my sack on the other. The troll's short legs were still able to keep up with the horse's brisk trot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Newt wasn't happy. Wyst's virtue put the duck in ill temper, and he disliked Gwurm.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wasn't very fond of Penelope either. At least he didn't harbor any disfavor toward Wyst's horse although I suspected this too would come in time.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Writing partner mode: sixteen sentences sentences, match context level. Themes: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A worthwhile quest always involved a great deal of nothing happening. Nothing noteworthy anyway. These are the forgotten moments of legend, twenty years of dull and unremarkable wandering condensed into a line or two on an epic poem. A good storyteller knows what's worth telling and what's not and what merits mention without excessive details.\n\nNothing happened, and nothing kept happening for nine days and nine nights.\n\nBut on the tenth day, an event of note finally came to pass. Our small band of traveling vengeance-seekers came across a pack of disagreeable elves. It wasn't so much a trial as an inconvenience.\n\nMy mistress had told me of elves and their sorry lot. As bastard children of mortals and faeries, they were of two worlds and master of neither. It was a poor mating. Faeries were innately magical creatures, but their magic was wildly chaotic. Mixing it with mortal flesh halved its already dubious reliability while in no way dimming its potency. Elves were nature spirits wrapped in smothering mortality. Though mostly harmless, they could be dangerous in the same way a monkey carrying a torch might set a forest ablaze.\n\nWe happened upon the elves late in the morning. They'd set themselves up as guardians of an assemblage of planks bridging a short ravine.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were six of them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tallest was half-ogre and stood a little over four feet. The shortest was half-goblin and barely a foot and a half. The other four were half-men. Like all elves, each looked like a short, thin version of their mortal parent with pointed ears, bushy eyebrows, and silver eyes. The half-ogre held a spear twice his height. The others were unarmed, but this didn't stop them from standing in our way. \"Halt!\" the tallest elf growled. \"None shall pass without paying the toll.\"\n\nAs a troll, Gwurm knew something about bridge-tolling. He appointed himself our negotiator and stepped forward. From my perch atop his shoulders, the elves seemed very, very small.\n\n\"How much?\"\n\nThe spear-carrying leader smiled. \"All your money.\"\n\n\"All of it, you say?\"\n\nThe elf squinted. \"Yes, all of it.\"\n\n\"Everything we have?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes! Every piece of gold, every scrap of silver, every worthless copper coin in your pockets.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A little expensive, isn't it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn: write with a fair amount of dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The elf smacked the blunted end of his spear into the ground. \"If you're thinking you can cross without paying, I wouldn't try it. We've got powers you couldn't possibly dream of.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" Gwurm glanced about our party from undead witch to animate broom to demon duck to invincible White Knight.\n\n\"You doubt our magic?\"\n\n\"I say we make them pay double,\" the half-goblin shouted.\n\n\"Yes, double!\" another seconded.\n\n\"Very well.\" The half-ogre raised his spear in proclamation. \"Double the toll for you!\"\n\n\"Double all the money we have?\" Gwurm asked.\n\nThe flaw in such a toll seemed lost on the elves.\n\n\"I can see you're a force to be reckoned with. It seems a reasonable price. We'll pay it.\"\n\nThe elves murmured excitedly. The half-ogre quieted them down with a hard glare and pointed his spear at his feet. \"Deposit your riches at our feet, and you may pass unmolested.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" Gwurm waved his hand at the spot. \"Done.\"\n\nThe elves looked to their leader questioningly He glanced to the bare earth as if to see something that wasn't there. \"What's this?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You said all our riches, every piece of gold, every scrap of silver, and worthless copper coin. Well, that's all of it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Include this dialogue snippet naturally: \"Pray tell, what might that be?\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was true. None of our party carried money. Witches, ducks, and brooms had no need for it. And Wyst of the West, as a White Knight, had taken an oath of poverty. Trolls might carry a coin or two on occasion, but not this day.\n\nThe elves muttered among themselves, sorting through the flaw in their demands. Finally, the half-ogre pointed his finger at Gwurm and said, \"Ah, but we said double!\"\n\n\"Double of nothing is nothing,\" Gwurm explained. \"But if you'd like, we can give you thrice of nothing.\"\n\n\"Oh, why not quadruple it,\" said Newt. \"We can afford it.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Gwurm agreed.\n\nMost of the elves were thrilled with the offer until their leader smacked a cohort with his spear. \"You idiots.\" He raised his spear again, a gesture he seemed very fond of. \"If you won't pay our toll, you'll face our wrath. You fools have no idea what you're facing.\"\n\n\"Pray tell, what might that be?\" Gwurm inquired.\n\nThe half-ogre puffed out his chest that, by elf standards, was quite full but hardly threatening.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He lowered his spear only to raise it again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"First, there is Yog. He can spit fire. Then there is Rof who can summon rocks from the sky when he sneezes. And Gok, able to change his shape at will into terrifying creatures you couldn't even comprehend. And Vop, well, Vop can talk to worms.\"\n\nThe half-goblin added, \"And snails. Worms and snails!\"\n\n\"Yes, Vop, yes. And snails.\" He switched his spear to his other hand without lowering the weapon. \"And I, Doz the Mighty can bring life to the inanimate.\"\n\n\"Don't forget, Sof,\" an elf remarked.\n\n\"Hell's bowels, Gok. I was trying to keep him a secret.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Well, the damage is done. Sof, foolish full mortals, is our greatest weapon. He's invisible and can strike from anywhere, anytime. One by one, he can strike you down as your companions watch helplessly.\" He laughed. Unfortunately, elf voices are terrible for sinister cackling.\n\n\"Can I kill him?\" Newt asked.\n\n\"Not yet.\" I patted his head. \"Maybe later.\"\n\nI glanced to Wyst. There was a trace of a smile on his lips.\n\n\"Strike now, my brothers!\" Doz the Mighty shouted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Show them what happens to those who defy us!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The elves milled about their leader in a show of confusion.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Doz lowered his spear and ground his teeth. \"What are you waiting for?\"\n\n\"Uh... well, we've never struck before, Doz. We aren't sure how.\"\n\n\"Fine. I'll show you. You first, Rof.\"\n\nRof, who could summon rocks from the sky when he sneezed, stepped forward. He drew in a few quick breaths. His nose twitched. His head drew back. And nothing happened.\n\n\"Well?\" Doz asked.\n\n\"I can't.\" His nostrils flared. \"Maybe if my allergies were acting up.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine. Yog, roast them.\"\n\nRof stepped back dejectedly as Yog prepared to spit fire. He puckered up and spat. Flame dribbled from his lips and sizzled away at his feet. He hunched over, clenched his fists, and spat again. A gout of flame erupted from his mouth and blackened his face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Damn it, Yog. I thought you were practicing.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yog was too busy beating out his smoking eyebrows to apologize.\n\nNext came Gok the shape-changer. His attempt went smoother than his companions. In a flash, he transformed into a vicious wild boar. It had wicked tusks and crimson eyes and sharp hooves. Unfortunately, it was barely the size of a large rat. While Doz the Mighty berated Gok, Gok grunted in an effort to grow larger. He expanded to twice his size, belched, then shrank to half his previous volume.\n\n\"My turn,\" Vop the worm-talker announced. He stepped forward with bold determination.\n\n\"Step back, Vop.\"\n\nThe snail-talking elf backed away. Gok the shape-changer, who seemed trapped in his tiny boar form, retreated to the back of the group.\n\n\"I guess it's up to me.\" Doz the Mighty released his spear. It floated forward and hovered before Gwurm.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 35%", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now you'll know fear, fools. How will you fight a weapon that has no wielder?\"\n\nThe spear danced about, jabbing at the troll without actually attempting to stab him.\n\n\"Now grovel before me, and I may spare your lives.\"\n\nGwurm grabbed the spear in one thick hand. The weapon twisted and trembled in his unbreakable grip.\n\n\"That's not fair! You can't do that! Let it go!\"\n\nGwurm released it. The spear hopped back and shook angrily. It traced intricate patterns in the air with its point.\n\nPenelope jumped from my hand and faced the spear. The broom caressed the spear up and down with her bristles. Doz's spear shivered, bowed to Penelope, and floated aside. She returned to my side.\n\n\"Stupid spear.\" Doz the Mighty folded his arms across his chest. \"But there is one left. The last and most deadly of our band. That's right, Sof. Strike! Strike now!\"\n\nNo strike came.\n\n\"Sof! What are you waiting for?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, no strike came.\n\n\"Damn it, where's Sof?\"\n\nThe elves offered a collective shrug.\n\n\"Who saw him last?\"\n\nThey exchanged whispers.\n\nVop the worm-speaker said, \"Uh, thinking on it, I've never seen Sof.\"\n\n\"Me neither,\" Rof the rock-sneezer said.\n\n\"Me either,\" Yog the fire-spitter added.\n\nGok the shape-changer, still a boar, snorted his agreement.\n\nDoz the Mighty shook his head slowly. \"Well, this is just embarrassing.\"\n\nA sneeze came from the back.\n\n\"I did it! I did it!\" Rof squealed with his elf voice.\n\nThe sky darkened. A shrill screech filled the air, and a monstrous red bird swooped from the sky.\n\n\"Aha!\" Doz the Mighty thrust his hands high.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Now you shall see the grave errors of your ways!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The roc swept from the sky, snatched up the band of elves, and soared away, quickly disappearing into the horizon. Only Doz's spear was left behind.\n\n\"Can we pass?\" Gwurm asked.\n\nA disembodied voice spoke. \"Sure. Go ahead.\"\n\nWe bid Sof the Invisible and the spear a good morning and went on our way.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "CONTINUE STORY. PARAMETERS: thirty-five sentences sentences, character continuity, comedy, fantasy genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though Wyst and I could go days without saying much of anything, we did exchange a few words over the course of our quest. Nothing of much importance from a questing perspective, merely polite salutations of \"Good morning\" and \"Good night\" with the occasional observation about the weather or scenery or some such other trifle. Though words were a wondrous invention, both tremendously practical and inexhaustible in supply, there was no need to waste them. The silence was contagious, afflicting both Newt and Gwurm. My broom and Wyst's horse were the only ones not noticeably affected.\n\nThe truth was, I wasn't at all comfortable speaking to Wyst for very long. I didn't trust my discipline. One unwitchly slip of the tongue could reveal too much of my growing affection for him, which was difficult enough to hide without saying anything. Too often I caught myself smiling at him or staring at the graceful sway of his full shoulders. Fantasies, both carnal and cannibal, fell into my mind without warning, and each seemed harder to dispel than the last. None of these symptoms truly surprised me, but I was startled by the suddenness of their severity.\n\nI couldn't read Wyst's mind, but I caught him smiling at me as often as he caught me. I suspected, like my own smiles, there were many more times when I didn't catch him. Often his eyes seemed to wander, however briefly, up and down my body. Almost as if he could see the shapely form beneath my wrinkled gowns. Each passing day, I was less and less willing to dismiss these signs as products of my own desires. This led to an odd dilemma.\n\nDid Wyst see through my witchly disguise, or did he prefer his women plump and haggish? The latter notion meant that my curse might deny me the very man I desired. Such irony as repulsive beauty was not beyond possibility where a potent death curse was at play. And somewhere in the hell where long-dead, mad wizards might dwell, Nasty Larry was probably enjoying a good chuckle between tortured shrieks.\n\nSuch dilemmas aside, it was inevitable that Wyst and I would find ourselves in deeper conversation.\n\nBread was all Wyst ever ate. He lived upon two thin pieces a day. One in the morning when he awoke and one in the evening before he went to sleep. The meager diet and his personal enchantments sustained him very well. Even when he retired for the evening, he never seemed truly tired. And his body was the perfect balance between lean grace and masculine strength. At least, I thought so, and I'd spent enough hours studying it despite my efforts not to.\n\nIt was one of these moments of unwitchly indulgence that began a chat I'd been laboring to avoid. I was watching Wyst partake of his evening meal, wondering at what thoughts might be dancing behind his deep, dark eyes. I lost myself in the wondering and hadn't even realized he'd noticed my staring until it was far too late to pass it away as a casual glance.\n\nHe smiled from across the campfire. \"Would you like some?\" He held up a piece of dry, unappealing bread that I quickly accepted to cover my staring.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Newt gaped. He no doubt found the notion of eating anything without blood even more repellent than I.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His bill dropped, and his eyes crossed.\n\nGhastly Edna had subsisted mostly on bread and rabbit and wild berries, but all I'd ever eaten was meat. Even as a newborn, I'd had a good set of teeth. The kind of sharp, snapping fangs that discourage a mother from drawing her undead child to her breast.\n\nI sniffed the bread. It had hardly any scent, and nothing that put me in mind of dinner. But I felt I must, so I took a very small bite, chewed the morsel once, and forced myself to swallow. It couldn't hurt me, but it wasn't something I wanted to do again.\n\nNewt's tongue dangled from the side of his bill.\n\nI gulped down some raw pheasant to keep myself from gagging.\n\n\"It's...\" I struggled to find a word that was both truthful, yet not too harsh.\n\nWyst found it for me. \"Bland yet edible.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nHe grinned. \"I wasn't always a White Knight. I remember what food tastes like. Vaguely.\"\n\nThough I knew Wyst to be a mortal man, the admittance struck me. I'd gotten the impression that White Knights were much like witches. Much of their trade involved acting odd. Not a witchly strangeness, but a chaste peculiarity. For to deny one's self the simple pleasures of the flesh was certainly unusual.\n\nSuch lapses of character were unavoidable after spending enough time with someone. As a professional courtesy, I should have ignored it, but I couldn't stop myself from searching for the mortal man.\n\n\"Do you miss it?\"\n\nHad Wyst pretended not to hear the question, I would have pretended I'd never asked it. \"Not much. Although I do find myself aching for a good apple cider on rare occasion.\"\n\nI set my own bread aside as if I might actually finish eating it. Newt eyed the slice and backed away a few steps.\n\n\"And what about yourself?\" Wyst asked. \"Do you ever find yourself aching for something?\"\n\nFrom anyone else, the question might have been bold, but he'd answered mine. It was only fair I answer his.\n\n\"It's difficult to miss what you've never had.\"\n\nWyst took a sip of water from his canteen. \"I wouldn't know about that. It's the things we've never had that we sometimes miss the most.\"\n\n\"I've never had an appetite for anything but flesh, raw and red. It's my curse. So it really isn't the same as denying myself a pleasure. It's more like giving jewelry to a tortoise. Neither necessary, nor appreciated.\"\n\nWyst nodded. His eyes strayed to the evening stars as he finished the last of his meal.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I see. So there are no indulgences you deny?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was an important moment. A good witch would offer a reply that hid away her humanity. A dozen responses came to me, all of them appropriate in their vagueness. I didn't choose any of them.\n\n\"There are\"—I lowered my hat to cover the blush reddening my cheeks—\"temptations.\"\n\nNewt mumbled. In many ways, he was a more demanding master than Ghastly Edna, but he wasn't my master. His opinion counted for little.\n\n\"Newt, fetch some wood for the fire.\"\n\nHe squinted at the healthy flames and the small yet ample supply of fresh branches beside it. \"Why don't you send Gwurm? He's bigger and has hands.\"\n\nI glanced over at my troll, curled up, boulderlike, in his early evening retirement. \"He's asleep.\"\n\n\"So wake him.\"\n\nMy familiar looked into my eyes and attempted to stare me down. His insolence had grown bothersome of late, and another lesson was in order. I should have given them more often, but his contrary nature sprang from his demon. I disliked having to punish him for his enchanted nature. He was, much like myself, engaged in a constant struggle with a part of himself. I only disciplined him when I felt he wasn't giving the conflict enough effort.\n\nI removed my shawl and tossed it over him. \"Now where did I put that Newt?\" I asked softly. Then I lifted the shawl to reveal a single white feather left in the duck's place. Wyst knew me well enough to know I hadn't done Newt permanent harm. \"Where did you send him?\"\n\n\"I misplaced him, so I suspect he's in that place where all misplaced things go: that secret locus where lost keys, loose coins, and almost-yet-not-quite-forgotten memories wait to be found. He'll turn up eventually, like all lost things. Most likely when we aren't even looking for him.\n\n\"How does one become a White Knight?\" It broke witchly protocol to ask such a question and reveal that there were things I didn't know. With Newt lost, I found myself even less concerned with my witchliness. I wasn't willing to completely abandon it, but it was easier not to worry when the only witnesses were a sleeping troll, a broom, and a horse.\n\n\"It's a secret.\"\n\n\"Witches are very good at keeping secrets.\"\n\nWyst and I exchanged slight smiles.\n\n\"Yes, I suppose they are.\"\n\nHe took his third and last sip of water for the evening and returned his canteen to his pack.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then he laid down on his blanket on the cold, hard ground.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 28 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "⚠️ Required: Use 'before' exactly 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was all I could do to keep myself from pouncing upon him, running my hands down his chest, and maybe biting off his nose. Before that urge grew irresistible, he started his story, looking into the sky as he did.\n\n\"No man is truly good or evil. They may be greatly one or the other, but they always have its opposite to some degree. And sometimes, certain men, through either chance or design, find their souls in perfect balance. Both good and evil in exact equality. And when a man reaches this state, fate takes special notice of him and chooses him for greatness. I was such a man.\n\n\"The Order employs seers whose only purpose is to wander the land, find men like this, and recruit them. I was in a tavern, half-drunk, when one of these seers found me.\"\n\nI tried to imagine what Wyst might look like half-drunk, but even a witch's imagination had its limits.\n\nHe closed his eyes and folded his hands across his chest.\n\n\"This seer explained to me that I was at a very important moment in my life. A soul can't maintain this perfect balance for long, and one way or another, something would tip me in one direction. Then, as is the tradition, he offered a glimpse of what either choice would bring. After which, I chose to accept his offer and become a champion of right.\"\n\n\"You make it sound so easy.\"\n\n\"It was.\"\n\n\"But if your soul was in perfect balance, not good or evil but neither and both, how could you decide at all?\"\n\nHe turned on his side, his back to me. \"Usually there's a sign. Some spend months waiting for it, but I wasn't that patient. I flipped a coin.\"\n\nI laughed. I'd laughed before, but never like this. It was soft and musical and very mortal. I didn't mind at all.\n\n\"So how does one become a witch?\" Wyst asked.\n\n\"It's a secret.\"\n\nWyst propped himself on an elbow and turned his head in my direction. \"White Knights are very good with secrets.\"\n\nI gazed into those deep, dark eyes. A heat rose in my chest, and my stomach grumbled. And I savored the sensations.\n\n\"Yes, I suppose they are.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "ur turn to write! do like 113 sentences sentences. focus on comedy, fantasy stuff. try to use these: humor. treat any chars/world stuff like the reader's caught up (unless its the start)", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another weeh passed without a single trial to confront us. Nor anything even as interesting as a spot of disagreeable weather or inconvenience of elves. Newt remained lost, but had he been around, he would have surely observed this journey as far too pleasant for a quest of vengeance. I could wait for as long as required, possessing the near limitless patience that came with being ageless and a good witch, but my conversations with Wyst of the West did help pass the time.\n\nIt was nice to have someone to share my secrets with. I'd shared them with Newt and Gwurm and even Sunrise, but that had been a one-sided affair. My exchanges with Wyst were fair trades.\n\nHe told me of his youth, of his mother and father, of childhood friends and enemies, and what it had been like to be a mortal boy. I spoke of dark cellars, of Ghastly Edna and Nasty Larry, of not seeing the sky until I was eighteen, and what it had been like to be an accursed girl.\n\nWe spoke of hidden desires. Small ones, not overwhelming in their importance, but things we rarely admitted to. I learned his favorite food had been turtle soup, that he loved swimming, and that he had a great fondness for dogs. He learned my favorite treat was fresh rabbit brains, that I enjoyed making crafts with bones, and that I too had a certain fondness for dogs, though of a more rapacious sort.\n\nWyst never judged me. Nor did he pity me. Gwurm and Sunrise hadn't either, but White Knights lived different lives than trolls and prostitutes. It seemed a rare thing that men who had taken the mantle of unspoiled virtue could remain so accepting of others, even if forced by magic and fate into more unwholesome existence. I had to wonder if Wyst was an exceptional White Knight or if all his order were such paragons of righteousness and humility. If so, then the White Knights deserved every bit of their legendary reputation.\n\nI didn't share all my secrets. I kept my beauty and my carnal desires to myself. Certainly Wyst of the West left a few unspoken himself. Everyone should carry a secret or two, if only for mystery's sake.\n\nBy the end of the week, we were traveling side by side, close enough to reach out and touch one another. We never did.\n\nBut it was nice enough to simply enjoy the possibility.\n\nOn the seventeenth day of our quest, we came across a river. Men may, in their obsessive fashion, divide the water along imaginary lines, but every witch knows there is only one river in all the world. It winds through the land, gathering wisdom to carry to the ocean. A wise witch always pauses to collect some of this knowledge whenever she can.\n\nWyst watered his horse and filled his canteens while Gwurm removed his head and dunked it along the shore. I bent on my knees and consulted the shallow stream.\n\n\"Greetings, River.\"\n\n\"Hello, witch,\" the water replied. \"Lovely morning, isn't it? I always enjoy a lovely morning. Almost as much as I do enjoy a lovely evening. But I must confess rainy evenings are my favorite by far. Not that I've anything against the sun. But it can dry me out so. Sometimes when it rains enough, I get to run across so much more of the land. I love to carry away the soil and imagine what a fine canyon I might carve one day. Not that I'm impatient, mind you...\"\n\nThe River always chattered without end, and I allowed him to blather a few more moments before interrupting.\n\n\"Pardon me, River, but I'm on a quest.\"\n\n\"A quest of vengeance,\" the River said.\n\n\"So you know.\"\n\n\"One does hear things.\"\n\nI ran my fingers along the cold stream. \"I was hoping you might offer me some advice. I saw a river in a vision, and I think you're my guide to wherever I must go.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I am, and I must say it is a great honor to be part of your undertaking. I've been important in countless others, but this is especially satisfying. Not to casually dismiss those that came before, but...\"\n\nI interrupted the River again. Fortunately, he never took offense.\n\n\"What is it about my vengeance that makes it so impor­tant?\"\n\n\"Something to do with the shape of things to come. Like myself, you'll carve a great passage in the record of time. Or perhaps you'll simply dry out unnoticed as I've done on occasion.\"\n\nI stooped lower, placing my ear near the water. \"How so?\"\n\n\"Alas, I don't know. That knowledge must lay farther downstream, and your tomorrow awaits upstream, where I can only know less than I do now. But no matter. I've done my part.\n\n\"Thank you, River.\"\n\n\"You're quite welcome, and good luck to you, witch. I envy you in a way. I must always travel onward, never looking back, never stopping. Sometimes I think I'd like to stop, even if only for a little while. Or perhaps even go back and see the things I might have missed. Could you do me a favor, witch? There's a lemon tree upstream with dangling branches. It hardly ever drops a lemon. Just teases me, that tree. Could you perhaps take the time to pitch a lemon or two into me? Won't take you but a moment.\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"Thank you. I do so enjoy a fresh lemon. Not so much as I enjoy apricots. But there aren't any apricot trees where you're headed, and I wouldn't dream of asking...\"\n\nThe River kept talking, but I stopped listening. I informed Wyst and Gwurm that we would be following this stream and waited for someone to point out that we would be going a southwesterly angle after two weeks of traveling north. Neither made the observation, and Newt was still lost. And the brook's babbling was of no great importance.\n\nNot far upstream, the lemon tree waited. A robin, a crow, and a vulture perched in its branches.\n\n\"Keep away,\" said the tree. \"These are my lemons and I'll give them to the brook when I wish.\"\n\n\"Just a few, if you don't mind.\" I tapped the tree thrice with my knuckles, and two lemons fell into the River.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the River.\n\n\"Well, you won't get any more from me,\" groused the tree.\n\nI glanced up into the branches again. The robin and the crow remained, but a falcon perched where the vulture had been. All three jumped and soared overhead in wide circles.\n\nIt was then that I was struck by a sudden premonition. This was my very first premonition. I'd read the future in omens, but that was easy when one knew how. A true premonition was to know something without aid of signs or portents. It wasn't quite the same as having the magic talk to you. It was more like catching a whispered snippet the magic didn't mind you overhearing. Of course, like most premonitions, this was vague and mysterious information.\n\n\"Those birds have been sent to kill me,\" I said as I climbed on Gwurm's shoulders.\n\nWyst raised a hand to shade his eyes and looked upon the two ravens and a sizable albatross. Birds hardly posed a threat to me. Or Gwurm or Wyst either. Perhaps the albatross might snatch up Penelope and carry her away, but even my broom was no easy target. Wyst didn't sound skeptical as he asked, \"By who?\"\n\n\"By the sorcerer we seek, most likely.\"\n\n\"More illusions of flesh?\" Gwurm asked.\n\nWyst replied, \"Not quite. They're chimera. Shape-shifting creatures, beasts of the dream planes employed by sorcerers. Dangerous as anything alive because they can become anything that has lived and a thousand things that never have.\"\n\nAs I watched, the albatross became a small winged lizard, and a raven transformed into a yellow pelican.\n\nWyst spurred his horse onward. He didn't seem afraid, but he never did. He tutored us on what to expect while the creatures, in various winged forms, trailed from the air.\n\n\"The most important thing to remember is that chimera are compulsive shape-shifters. They can't hold any particular form for long, and that unpredictability can work against as much as for them. Their minds, like their bodies, are fluid, in capable of keeping to any strategy. One moment, you'll be facing a dragon-headed lion and the next, it will be a puppy or a weasel or perhaps a bass. Strike at these vulnerable moments.\"\n\nA glance showed the chimera flying lower and closer.\n\n\"They'll warn before they attack.\"\n\nThe chimera followed for another hour. I mostly ignored them, only occasionally allowing myself a curious glimpse. The assortment of shapes was always different. First, three owls of different colors. Then a mallard, a goose, and a hummingbird. Then a condor, a larger hummingbird, and a flying chicken. Then a bat, a winged serpent, and an eight-legged turtle treading the air with its churning legs.\n\nThe chimera swooped just over our heads and screeched with warbling voices. They landed just ahead.\n\nWyst drew his sword. \"They're ready.\"\n\nGwurm knelt to allow me to climb off his shoulders. He set aside my sack and cracked his knuckles. An odd act for a troll, given their lack of fleshly joints.\n\nThe chimera moved closer. Each took on a different form. There was a liquid grace to their shifting. Heads and limbs sprouted and shrank away and changed. Fur became scales became skin became feathers. Yet no matter what they became, whether natural beast or strange amalgamation, they always seemed to be wearing the right form. My witchly instincts told me the chimera's shapes weren't dictated by chance. There was a pattern at work, albeit the indecipherable pattern of living dreams.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Understanding what cannot be understood is a witch's trade.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 88 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first chimera became a great, hairy bear. The head shrank into the body and grew out of its chest. Its forearms became insectlike, ending in bladed hooks. The second chimera became a very traditional ogre. The third took on a serpentine form with a moose's head and a row of deadly spikes running down its spine.\n\nWe paired off. Penelope and I faced the bear-thing. Gwurm stood before the ogre. Wyst readied himself to battle the moose-headed serpent.\n\nI knew what I must do to defeat my chimera, but I wasn't a talented enough witch to decipher three dreams at once. I trusted Gwurm and Wyst to overcome their own.\n\nI whispered instructions to Penelope. She twitched her understanding, and then the trial began.\n\nThe ogre chimera charged Gwurm, but trolls are twice as strong as ogres. Gwurm hefted his opponent high in the air and slammed it to the ground. The chimera shifted into a monstrous bull. Gwurm held tight to the bucking beast.\n\nWyst and the serpent circled each other warily. The chimera snapped and snarled. The White Knight stabbed at it. Neither had drawn blood yet.\n\nI was able to watch all this because my own magic had reduced the earth to sucking mud beneath the bear-thing's feet. It sank into the ground, screeching and howling. One bladed arm was the last to disappear. It wasn't defeated. I was merely guiding it into a more acceptable form.\n\nThe earth rumbled, and a giant centipede burst forth at my feet. It towered over me, clicking its mandibles and hissing. It snatched me up in its blades, whipping me from side to side, and sliced me in two at the waist. My lower half fell away, but the centipede grabbed me in a dozen short arms. It changed colors, from bright green to dull orange. Mucus dripped from its wriggling mouth. Then it hacked into my neck. There was the gush of blood, the pain of tearing flesh, and my head bounced to the ground where it came to a rolling stop.\n\nThe chimera, unable to hold its centipede form, melted and shifted once again. It became a large, two-legged toad with a face that was all mouth. It opened its jaws, showing rows of jagged teeth.\n\nI could feel my body, but it was as if my neck was a thousand miles long. Giving direction to my limbs was a distant, deliberate affair. I was largely helpless. Penelope was not.\n\nThe toad pounced at my head only to be swatted down by my broom. The chimera shook its head clear and screeched at her. She moved in small circles before striking again in a full, wide arc. The force cracked her handle and sent the chimera tumbling away. It jumped to its feet, already shifting again. It sprouted feathers and a single enormous eye. Penelope shot forward and speared it in that eye. The chimera collapsed, very dead.\n\nMy broom wasted no time. She tugged free of her opponent and floated to my side. She swept my head back to my torso. It took a few moments for me to get my hands to shove my head back into place. The flesh of my neck knit back together, but even my powers of regeneration were limited so that it was a loose fit. A hard nod or a sudden jerk and it would fall off again.\n\nI pushed myself up and studied the fight. Gwurm's chimera was now a thing with dozens of tentacles. The troll struggled, but he was wrapped in its smothering coils. He gasped just before his body surrendered to the pressure and fell apart. The troll pieces slipped from the chimera's hold. The beast became a badger with a peacock tail and kicked around Gwurm's parts, looking for a vulnerable portion.\n\nI found a stone and threw it at the beast. It whirled, slobbering, teeth bared, and scrambled in my direction. The badger shape grew roughly human as it seized me in clawed hands. It expanded to tremendous size and parted its jaws to swallow me whole. At which point, I shoved an arm down its gullet. My curse gives me a knack for tearing flesh, and the malleable flesh of the chimera proved vulnerable. I punched through the back of its mouth and wrapped my fingers around something squishy and warm and hopefully vital. Although with chimera, this was mostly a matter of chance. The monster bit off my arm just as I squeezed. The chimera gurgled, staggered, and fell over. I was buried beneath its enormous form.\n\nWith only one arm and no way of freeing myself, I lay beneath the chimera and listened as Wyst battled the last one. There was a lot of grunting and shrieking, and this went on for some time. Finally, there was one last bubbling screech.\n\nThen silence.\n\nThe beast atop me swayed. I thought it might still be alive, but then it rolled over. Wyst of the West knelt beside me. Multicolored blood coated his shirt. Sweat glimmered on his dark skin. He wrapped tender arms around me and leaned me against the chimera's corpse.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"Hurt, but not harmed,\" I replied. \"How is Gwurm?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, but I lost an eye. Watch for it.\"\n\nWyst fetched my legs, and by the way he was walking, I could see he was injured. His White Knight invulnerability must have failed him in some way. Some of the blood on his side was his own.\n\nAs I fished around the monster's slackened jaws to retrieve my arm, Wyst retrieved my sack. I reached in for some needle and thread to stitch myself together and instead found Newt. Like all lost things, he was in the last and most obvious place I looked.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May be mid-story\nYour role: Add sixty-two sentences sentences preserving established character dynamics", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our first triat behind us, and none of us being in traveling condition, we camped beside the chimera corpses. Only Newt had escaped injury, and that was only because he'd missed the battle. This annoyed him. He would have rather taken part and been killed than lose an opportunity to fight. He sulked as the rest of us tended our wounds.\n\nMy injuries were the least pressing. I'd stitched myself together and within a few hours, I was restored. I liked the way the thick thread felt around my neck, and I imagined I looked quite horrible. But such was my curse that my flesh rejected the intrusive stitching. I was disappointed when it fell out.\n\nGwurm wasn't hurt much either, but after he'd been reassembled, we'd discovered some missing parts. An ear and a finger were nowhere to be found. He was fortunate enough to have a surplus of fingers in his pouch, but there was no replacement ear. He accepted the loss with his usual good nature, noting that while two ears were better, one would do fine.\n\nBoth Penelope and Wyst of the West required my attentions. My broom was very much a living thing now, and her handle would mend itself in time, providing she got enough dust to eat. I merely bound her with some torn cloth so she would heal straight.\n\nWyst's wound was the most serious. He'd suffered a deep slash to his side by the chimera's tusks. If I'd been able to use magic, it would have been easily treated. But my magics slid off the White Knight, and I had to rely on mundane methods. I wrapped the wound in a poultice to prevent infection. That he had to remove his shirt for treatment proved less distracting than I'd expected. Ghastly Edna had trained me well. Wyst was not a man. He was a patient. Touching his firm flesh, running my fingers across his lean, muscled body meant nothing to me.\n\nWell, perhaps it meant something. But I concentrated on the wound and finished the task without surrendering to carnal impulses. Only after, did I realize the heat built up within me, especially warm in my lips, breast, loins, and, oddly, ears. I limped to the other side of our small camp to clear my head, pretending to study the dead chimera.\n\nDeath had merely slowed their shape-shifting pace. The corpses assumed various deceased forms every ten minutes or so, each smaller than the last. I expected them to eventually become dead bugs, then things too small to be seen, then nothing altogether. It seemed a perfectly natural state of decay for such creatures. Presently, the corpses were that of a hare, a wolf with antlers, and a three-armed man.\n\nNewt beheaded the hare with a kick. \"They weren't so dangerous. None of you were killed.\"\n\n\"We're all very hard to kill,\" I replied.\n\nThere was truth to Newt's observation. The chimera, terrible monsters in their own right, had never been a serious threat. The sorcerer who'd sent them must have known that. Their purpose had been to delay us, perhaps even kill one of us with some luck, and to take our measure.\n\n\"How did they know where to find you anyway?\" Newt asked.\n\n\"No doubt, the sorcerer told them.\"\n\n\"How did he know?\"\n\n\"Most likely, the magic told him. Just as it tells me where to find him.\"\n\n\"I thought the magic was on our side.\"\n\n\"Magic doesn't take sides. It mostly watches and waits for something interesting to happen and sometimes, especially when witches and sorcerers find themselves at cross-purposes, it encourages the most interesting things.\"\n\n\"Sounds as if the magic should find itself a hobby.\"\n\n\"Perhaps that is what we are.\"\n\nDusk approached. Gwurm went gathering wood, and Newt went hunting for dinner. Though Wyst and I had been gradually drawing closer over our quest, I sat far from him this evening for reasons I couldn't fathom. I often acted in ways I didn't understand when it came to Wyst. I suspected this was normal, and a good witch doesn't need to understand everything. Nor does she expect to.\n\nWyst squirmed. His pain was obvious, try as he might to hide it. Every shallow breath carried a soft wheeze. Few would have noticed, but I knew Wyst as few did. His pain distressed me more than even being eaten alive by goblings.\n\nSilence crept between us. For the first time in a long while, I felt uneasy with Wyst.\n\nHe pressed his fingers to his wound and winced.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't do that,\" I said.\n\n\"It itches.\"\n\n\"It's supposed to.\"\n\nHis hand hovered over the bandage.\n\n\"Leave it alone.\"\n\nHe sneered.\n\nIt was nice to see the boy beneath the man beneath the White Knight. I smiled for reasons yet again not entirely clear to me.\n\nWyst scowled. \"We can't all be fortunate enough to be ac­cursed.\"\n\n\"Fortune can be fickle,\" I agreed. \"Much like a White Knight's legendary invulnerability.\"\n\n\"A popular exaggeration,\" he said.\n\n\"So I gathered.\"\n\nIt was then that Wyst shared the limits of his enchanted invincibility. I was honored to be entrusted with the secret, but we'd shared many secrets. Our physical vulnerabilities seemed almost trivial beside secret desires and mortal admissions.\n\nWhite Knights could be harmed in four ways: magic, drowning, honorable combat, and corruption. None of these were particularly easy. Greater magic can always overcome lesser magic, but magic greater than Wyst's enchantment was a very rare thing. While Wyst could suffocate, his enchantment allowed him to hold his breath for an hour. Honorable combat was a more general weakness. Even Wyst admitted he couldn't know what was honorable and what wasn't until he was actually harmed. Apparently, the chimera had met the magic's qualifications.\n\nThe idea of corruption was of special interest to me. A White Knight's virtue fueled his enchantment. When robbed of it, they were as vulnerable as any man. When captured, a White Knight was usually thrown into a dungeon for a month or a year or however long it took for him to fall to a moment of weakness. Even the most chaste soul would succumb to a piece of fresh fruit or a beautiful virgin's kiss. Then it was off to the chopping block or gallows. This method was far from fool proof. Often as not, the Knight lasted long enough to be rescued or escape.\n\n\"Wouldn't drowning be easier?\" I asked.\n\n\"It would, but most assume that if you haven't drowned in ten minutes that you aren't going to.\" He lay on his back and breathed as little as possible. \"And how exactly do undead witches meet death? Or do they?\"\n\n\"I'm ageless. Not immortal.\"\n\nI knew of four certain ways I might perish only through Ghastly Edna and her conversations with the magic. First, there was magic itself, but magic greater than my curse came only once every century or so. Fire, as both servant of life and death, could kill me. Except that as a witch, fire and I were very good friends. Only the most enraged flame posed any sort of danger. Being hacked into three or four pieces was perhaps the most effective, providing steps were taken to keep my parts from rejoining for long enough.\n\n\"How long?\" asked Wyst.\n\n\"That largely depends on how many pieces, but a good month at the very least.\"\n\nHe squirmed uncomfortably. \"And the last method?\"\n\nI hesitated to tell Wyst this. I'd always thought it impossible. Impossible is a concept embraced by mortals to keep their world safe. Yet some things are so unlikely that impossibility is not much of an exaggeration. But I trusted Wyst with my life. And my death.\n\n\"To have my heart pierced by someone I love.\"\n\nThere was another brief silence between us. Before either could end it, Gwurm came stomping into camp. He carried an impressive load of branches. Newt returned with a half-dozen squirrels for dinner. Wyst and I said nothing else to each other that evening. And when everyone had finally gone to sleep, I crept away and sat in the comforting dark just outside the campfire's light.\n\nI watched Wyst from the shadows. His sleep was uneasy. His pain was minor, mere discomfort, but his every troublesome breath put a stitch in my side. I wanted to make him feel better. I also wanted to devour him one succulent morsel at a time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only after he'd taken me in his arms, and I'd tasted his kiss and felt his warm skin against my own.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 29 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You love him.\"\n\nI was so intent on Wyst I hadn't even noticed Gwurm was awake. The troll sat beside me.\n\n\"I don't know,\" I said. \"What is love?\"\n\nGwurm chuckled. \"Nobody really knows. It defies explanation in its complex simplicity. Like magic, I think.\"\n\nThe comparison made it easier to understand. Magic didn't require explanation, merely the understanding to know that it was there. So it was with countless other things in this world and beyond.\n\n\"I love him.\"\n\nThe admission was easier in the dark. And as Ghastly Edna had been my mother, Gwurm had become my brother. He took my slight hand in his own immense fingers.\n\nI hadn't noticed Newt was awake too. \"If the mistress could hear you now.\" He took a seat at my feet. \"Witches and love, it's unnatural.\"\n\nI ignored him, as I often did. Demons couldn't love. They didn't have the capacity to care about anyone but themselves. And I pitied him, and all demons, for it.\n\n\"You should kill him,\" Newt said. \"If you do really love him.\"\n\nIt was typical demon reasoning to destroy a weakness be fore it destroys you. But I didn't want to kill Wyst of the West. He didn't frighten me. Neither did sorcerers. Or even love. Only one thing did.\n\nMy curse. And what it might make me do.\n\nWyst stirred on the edge of wakefulness. Deep inside, other things stirred in response. Especially my stomach.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "StoryBot: Add 38 sentences to this segment. Style: A. Lee Martinez. Genre: comedy, fantasy. Note: Part of larger work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Death curses are potent things.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only the greatest wizards are capable of them, and there's little point in holding back when you're about to die.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though I'd known this and lived with my curse all my life, I'd never truly understood just how accursed I was until I knew love.\n\nI wanted to kill Wyst, to devour and digest him so that he would always be a part of me. I wanted to gobble him down because I loved him. But for the very same reason, I would do anything to protect him. Especially from myself. The brief pleasure of consuming him, satisfying as it might be, would pale beside the terrible woe of slaying such a great man. But I could never be happy just knowing him. I needed his touch, his warmth. I needed his flesh in a way that I could never have. No matter which I chose, unhappiness would always be the end result. This was the terrible beauty of my curse. It was frustrating, but as a witch, I couldn't help but admire Nasty Larry's handiwork.\n\nIf I was to be unsatisfied either way, the practical course of action would be to have my way with Wyst of the West, devour him, and put aside this dilemma. There was risk involved. Wyst could kill me, but death was not so frightening a prospect. If I could have just one kiss before dying, and maybe a tiny nibble of ear, I could think of far worse fates.\n\nI was troubled by another sleepless night. I sat in the shadows and watched Wyst of the West. Sometimes I felt like a woman content to look upon a slumbering lover. Sometimes I felt like a spider studying afly. Finally, I could resist my desire no longer.\n\nI crept from the dark while the others slept and knelt beside him. My curse made me a shadow to the sleeping mind. I suppose it was an advantage meant to help spirit off slumbering children, but it worked just as well on men. I caressed his cheek with light fingers and ran a thumb across his lips. My fingers danced down his neck and across his chest.\n\nI fell on my hands and held my face over his. Less than an inch but he couldn't sense me. He stirred. His soft, warm breath rose from parted lips. If I were to kiss him as he slept, Wyst would never know. Was one stolen kiss too much to ask? If no one saw it, if only I knew it ever happened, what could be the harm?\n\nMy heart quickened. My insides twisted into knots of hunger and nausea.\n\nI couldn't fight my curse forever. If things kept as they were, I knew what must happen. Either for Wyst or myself. I didn't know which, and I decided not to think about it. The decision wouldn't be made this night. But my hunger couldn't be denied. Not entirely.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I lay beside him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 36 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I took his hand in mine and held it close to my breast. Even this didn't wake him. I pressed closer and imagined that we were both naked and spent from a night of passion. Not a very witchly imagining. More appropriate thoughts for a love-struck girl on the edge of womanhood. Yet this was what I was. Undead. Accursed. Ageless. And frighteningly innocent in so many ways.\n\nMinutes of lying beside him were almost enough to sate my hunger. Almost. I rolled against him, pressing against him as much as I dared. A little more, in truth. I turned his dark face to mine. And I kissed him. A light brushing of my lips against his forehead. Even if it was a one-sided affair, it was my first kiss. Unless I counted Newt, and I didn't. A terrific warmth filled me. My mouth went dry. My fingers trembled. My stomach gurgled almost loud enough to wake Wyst. My desires were filled for the time being, and I returned to the comforting darkness.\n\nWyst half awoke a moment later. Though I was a shadow, there would be a soft memory left behind, easy to mistake for a hazy dream. He rolled on his wounded side, groaned, and went back to sleep.\n\n\"You can stop pretending,\" I said. \"I know you saw.\"\n\nPenelope floated beside me. She laid low at my feet.\n\n\"None of that now. I knew you were awake the whole time so you did nothing wrong.\"\n\nShe stood and tilted forward, then back.\n\n\"It was very nice.\"\n\nPenelope prodded me gently.\n\nI grinned. \"Wondrous.\"\n\nWith a gleeful hop and twirl, she fell into my hand. I was glad she'd witnessed it. Having someone else see it gave the kiss reality, and I trusted in my broom's silence.\n\nSo I sat in the dark, grinning as a witch never should and waiting for the sun to rise.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: The user will provide text (may include established elements) then you write 50 sentences sentences maintaining same character/world familiarity.\n\nGenres: comedy, fantasy\nTags: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That moment when the dawn sears away the night was always my least favorite part of the day, but I discovered that the world is a dimmer place when you're in love. The sun and its uncompromising brightness seemed more tolerable this morning.\n\nThe memory of my body against his rested somewhere in Wyst's mind. Once, he touched his forehead where I'd kissed him. He smiled, shook his head, and surely dismissed it as a curious dream. Even White Knights must have had those sorts of dreams. Accursed witches certainly did. Sometimes even when I was awake.\n\nWe broke camp and continued on our quest. Wyst and I said nothing for the morning. It was our habit to talk little during the day, and almost all of these exchanges were quest-related. His wound was healing nicely, judging by the ease of his movement. My mundane medicine and his enchantment allowed him to recover from injury far quicker than normal. I didn't offer comment on it.\n\nNewt passed the morning by complaining. He had much to complain about, and the demon in him had no trouble letting everyone know how unhappy he was. I found it amusing that a creature without an ounce of compassion should expect sympathy, but it wasn't that strange. Demons do have empathy, even if only for themselves.\n\nI was only too happy to listen to Newt's grievances. I'd found a degree of affection for his flaws as passing time often encourages. I think we'd all missed his grumblings. Even Wyst smiled as Newt vented.\n\n\"Where did you send me anyway?\"\n\n\"It has no name. If it did, it could be found, and if it could be found, then it wouldn't be where lost things go.\"\n\n\"You have no name,\" Newt said. \"And you can be found.\"\n\n\"Perhaps only because I allow it.\"\n\nHe cast one of his customary dubious glances. I must admit, I'd missed them in his absence. \"Anyway, wherever it was, it smelled like wet kobold. And it was terribly cluttered with dreadful lighting. And things were always falling from the sky.\"\n\nGwurm plucked his ear and moved it to the right side of his head to better hear Newt. \"What sort of things?\"\n\n\"Rings. Grails. A ratty yellow fleece. There was a mountain of keys and coins and a field of boots, none a matching pair.\"\n\n\"No troll ears?\" Gwurm asked.\n\n\"Not that I noticed, but it was a very cluttered place. Especially for a place that has no name and can't be found.\"\n\n\"Pity If you find yourself there again someday would you mind keeping an eye out for it?\" Gwurm chuckled.\n\nNewt bristled at the notion.\n\n\"Three trials left,\" he remarked. \"Which one was that anyway? Combat, I imagine.\"\n\n\"It might have been magic,\" I replied. \"Chimera are magical. Or it might have been peril. Chimera are monsters. And it might have been strength, a test of physical might.\"\n\nNewt sighed. \"Don't you know?\"\n\nI merely looked onward enigmatically.\n\n\"Fine. Three trials left in any case. When is the next one?\"\n\nI kept staring into the distance.\n\n\"You don't know. Just admit it.\"\n\n\"It doesn't really matter what I know and what I don't. Things will progress in their own way.\"\n\n\"Meaning you don't know.\"\n\nI wasn't about to admit anything. No one but Newt expected me to, which was precisely why I didn't.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I enjoyed tormenting my familiar as much as anyone. Well, perhaps not as much as Gwurm.\n\nSeveral hours upstream, the River suggested we part company because it no longer knew anything about our quest except that traveling north seemed the right thing to do. Newt couldn't help but point out that we'd been going north before following the River, but quests were traditionally filled with detours. This annoyed him, but so many things did.\n\n\"Do you at least have some idea what this sorcerer is up to?\" he asked.\n\nI closed my eyes and lowered my head. \"I have seen a crush of phantasmal goblings sweeping across the world, cleansing it of all genuine flesh. And in its place, another world has been made. A world of shadows and glass. A perfect but hollow reproduction.\"\n\n\"You make it sound as if it has already come to pass.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it already has.\" For the first time, I understood what Ghastly Edna had meant by the past that was yet to be. Time was neither now or later, then or after. Time simply was. Tomorrow was found by walking the hours, one minute at a time. None could know for certain what waited farther down the path, not even the magic. The only way to learn was to make the journey.\n\n\"But why would anyone want to do that? Destroy the world just to remake it?\"\n\n\"Sorcery is illusion. It's potent, but never quite real. But in a world of phantoms, illusion is reality.\"\n\n\"Madness,\" Wyst said.\n\n\"Magic and madness often walk together, and sorcerers have always been especially prone. Theirs is an art that blurs reality and illusion, and most eventually stop noticing the difference.\"\n\n\"Can he do it?\" Newt said.\n\n\"Where great magic is concerned, anything is possible. But in this instance, I wouldn't worry much. The world is not so delicate. If we fail in our quest, then most likely, someone somewhere will stop him.\"\n\nNewt was disappointed. He wanted to be the world's savior. It would only confirm what the demon in him already knew: that the universe existed only for his glory. This wasn't true, but I offered him a nugget of self-importance.\n\n\"We are the first though, and if we fall short, there will be much more death and suffering before his plan is ended.\"\n\nNewt would have grinned from ear to ear if he'd had ears. He was now the center of the world. Rather, he had always been, and I'd merely confirmed it. He was content to indulge in his hero fantasies. Without doubt, he imagined himself a sorcerer slayer. The rest of us were mere accessories to his destiny, which was really my destiny. He was enjoying himself, so I didn't point that out.\n\nNorthward, the forest thinned to a sparse wood, then a grassy field, then hilly plains. I hardly noticed. Wyst of the West occupied my perceptions. Newt may have been the center of his own universe, but the White Knight was the center of mine. I understood little of love, but I thought this normal. The obsession of fresh love. Time would soften its edge to something more manageable. I could only hold it in check by forcing myself to think of other things. I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and muttered nonsense under my breath. Ghastly Edna had often said, \"Everyone talks to themselves, but if they truly wanted to learn anything, they would listen. A one-sided conversation rarely does anyone any good.\"\n\nSo I talked, and I listened, though not very well with Wyst so near. Even with my eyes closed, I could see his pleasing face, those dark eyes, those lean shoulders, delectable ears. I could smell his warm breath and feel my fingers running across the short hair atop his head. I could still taste his skin on my lips. My lust was stronger than ever. As was my appetite.\n\n\"You know what must be,\" I whispered.\n\nI glanced at Wyst. He was watching me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perhaps he had been the whole time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Neither of us turned away. We just stared into each other's eyes. And then, at the exact same moment, we smiled. I would have kissed him or bit off his soft, chewy lips if I'd been close enough. My body spoke to me in a hundred wordless ways, and I knew what I would do... what I must do.\n\nI lowered my eyes from Wyst and pushed my lust aside. The ravenous beast was content to lick its lips in anticipation of the meal it knew was coming.\n\nNewt's hero fantasies ceased being distracting. \"This sorcerer, does he really have enough power to do that shells and darkness in your vision?\"\n\n\"Glass and shadows,\" I corrected. \"Potentially, yes.\"\n\nNewt whistled. \"He must be one of the greatest sorcerers alive then.\"\n\n\"He is, I believe, an Incarnate.\"\n\nNewt was so taken aback that he slipped from my lap and fell to the ground. He hopped to his feet. \"An Incarnate! You didn't say anything about an Incarnate!\"\n\n\"You didn't ask.\"\n\nThere are many who study the ways of magic, and a select few have the talent to be great. Of these elite, there are an even smaller group who have the power to shape history, to alter the world (and sometimes even the universe) in ways that are never forgotten. To become legends that will live until the end of time.\n\nAnd then, there are the Incarnates. They are magic given flesh. Or flesh given magic, depending on how one looks upon such things. There is only ever one upon the world, and in whatever craft of magic they practice, they are unequaled. Strangely, they were a mixed lot. Many never accomplish anything of great note. Such power doesn't always go to those who have a desire to decimate kingdoms or better the world. The magic chooses its Incarnates by its own reasons, and none are privy to those reasons.\n\nGhastly Edna had mused on occasion that Nasty Larry might have been an Incarnate. If so, I was all his awesome wizardly might in one accursed form, but I was not an Incarnate.\n\nGwurm picked Newt up and deposited him on my lap. \"A sorcerer Incarnate,\" my familiar said. \"Then it can only be one man.\"\n\n\"Soulless Gustav,\" said Gwurm.\n\nI hadn't heard the name before, but I didn't need to ask. I only had to listen.\n\nNewt's eyes grew wide and fearful. \"Not so loud. He'll hear you.\"\n\n\"That's just a fairy story.\"\n\n\"No, it's not. I knew someone who knew someone who said His name and attracted His attention.\" Newt spoke with hushed reverence. Apparently, even pronouns weren't safe enough distance from Soulless Gustav.\n\n\"And what happened to this friend of a friend?\" Gwurm asked.\n\n\"What do you think happened? The poor bastard died. Miserably, I might add. His tongue swelled up. His skin turned to maggots. His heart jumped from his chest, grew arms, and beat him to death.\"\n\n\"That is horrible,\" I agreed.\n\n\"Superstitious nonsense,\" Wyst remarked.\n\n\"No it's not!\" Newt nodded at me. \"Tell them. Tell them an Incarnate can do that.\"\n\n\"I suppose it is possible,\" I said. \"Of course, it's also possible his heart was upset with him for reasons all its own.\"\n\nBoth Wyst and Gwurm laughed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Penelope shook with her own silent giggling.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wasn't aware you had so many friends,\" I said.\n\n\"I wasn't always a familiar, or just a duck. There's more to my past than you'll ever know.\"\n\nI'd never thought about it, but I hadn't been born in Ghastly Edna's tutelage. A demon-infested waterfowl must surely have had as colorful a background as an accursed witch.\n\n\"Fair enough. And in that past, I take it you've met this Soulless Gustav.\"\n\nNewt sputtered. \"Don't say His name. Weren't you listening?\n\n\"Skin to maggots,\" I said to prove I was.\n\n\"Swollen tongue,\" added Wyst.\n\n\"Pummeling heart,\" said Gwurm.\n\n\"Exactly. And that's just saying His name. None who have ever seen Him has lived to tell the tale.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a fairy story to me.\" Gwurm shrugged. \"If everyone who's ever seen him has died, then how do you know he exists?\"\n\n\"Because none of the unfortunate fools died right away. First, they all went mad. Then they stumbled back to civilization before they perished.\"\n\n\"I thought you said no one lived to tell the tale.\"\n\nNewt rolled his eyes. \"That's just a figure of speech. Of course, they lived to tell the tale.\"\n\n\"What about the swollen tongues?\" asked Wyst of the West. \"Wouldn't the swollen tongues get in the way of the telling?\"\n\n\"That was just my friend's friend. Everyone perishes in a different way. Sometimes their eyes burst. Or their brains liquefy. Or their intestines strangle them. I've heard of a man who was compelled to chop himself to pieces with a rusty ax. And another who gasped with such terror that his lungs exploded.\"\n\n\"Sounds dreadful,\" Wyst said.\n\n\"Dreadfully horrible.\" Newt shook out his wings. \"Ghastly and gruesome and appalling and any other terrible word you can think of. Which is exactly why we shouldn't even be talking about Him. Even just thinking about Him is dangerous.\"\n\n\"Stuff and nonsense. We trolls don't believe in such fool­ishness.\" Gwurm hunched carefully so not to throw me off his shoulders. \"I'll be damned if I'll be afraid of a sorcerer who doesn't have better things to do than send strangling intestines after those who say his name. Even if he does exist.\" He raised his hands in gnarled fashion. The large size and flexibility of troll fingers makes them quite terrifying when held like that. Like great, twisted claws. \"Soulless Gustav can scratch my unmentionables.\"\n\n\"Stop saying His name!\"\n\nGwurm fiddled with his little finger, twisting it all the way around. \"Who? Soulless Gustav? Do you want me to stop saying Soulless Gustav? Because if you really want me not to say Soulless Gustav anymore, I'll stop saying Soulless Gustav. You just have to ask.\"\n\n\"Stop saying it!\"\n\n\"What's that?\" Gwurm adjusted his ear. \"Stop saying what?\"\n\n\"Stop saying Soulless Gustav!\"\n\nPenelope smacked Newt on the bottom with her bristles. Thinking it the sorcerous wrath of Soulless Gustav himself, the duck jumped in the air with a howl. He flapped his wings madly, fell to earth, and jerked tensely upright. His head twisted back and forth, up and down. My undead ears heard his heart thundering.\n\nGwurm cracked a crooked grin. Penelope shook. Even Wyst chortled ever so lightly.\n\n\"Fine. You got me to say it. Very funny. All I'm saying is that even if He's not real, even if He's just a story, there's no point in taking the risk, however negligible it might be.\"\n\nGwurm and Penelope decided they'd tormented Newt enough and agreed. But the sorcerer was still a topic of conversation. Though he refused to sit on Gwurm's shoulders, Newt relented to talk about Soulless Gustav as long as the name went unspoken.\n\n\"They say he was born without a soul,\" Newt said. \"That's why he's so mad and evil. And that he must feast upon the souls of virgins to survive, like the Lords of Inferno themselves. And that all the unfortunate soulless virgins are kept as his slaves, an army of beautiful, empty flesh. Neither dead nor alive nor undead but something wholly different and unnatural.\"\n\n\"I'd heard the same,\" said Gwurm.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Only I'd heard it told that he was born with a soul but lost it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 23 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "meta: For your next response only, include predominant dialogue", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sorcerers don't often traffic with demons.\"\n\n\"I didn't say he'd sold it. I said he'd lost it.\"\n\nWyst agreed. \"They say he was a good man, but one day, he misplaced his soul.\"\n\nNewt sighed. \"That's preposterous.\"\n\n\"It's just what I've heard.\" Wyst remained serious, and I couldn't tell if he was jesting or not. \"It doesn't seem any more preposterous than having one's brain liquefy for merely saying a name.\"\n\nGwurm said, \"I lost my mother's nose not long after leaving home.\"\n\nNewt balked. \"Her nose.\"\n\n\"It's troll tradition. Something to remember her by. But I lost it, and it drove me quite mad with irritation. Took me weeks to get over it, but in the end, it was just a nose. I remember my mother just as well without it.\"\n\nHe ran a thumb across his wide chin. \"But still, it did get to me those weeks. And I would imagine misplacing one's soul would be a thousand times worse. It is your most personal and irreplaceable possession. I think even the greatest man would be driven mad by that. Mad enough to kill those who dared utter his name.\"\n\n\"I still think it makes more sense that he was born without one.\"\n\n\"More sense, perhaps,\" I agreed, \"but magic isn't always sensible.\"\n\n\"You didn't see any souls while you were lost did you?\" asked Gwurm. \"Good chance if you had it would have been his.\"\n\nNewt wasn't amused and ignored the question. \"Your mother's nose, you say?\"\n\nGwurm nodded. \"It was blue with a wart on the end. You didn't come across anything like that either, did you?\"\n\n\"No. No misplaced souls. No lost ears. No mislaid noses.\"\n\n\"Well, keep an eye out for it next time you're there.\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nHe muttered something about eating it should he ever find it.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Write one hundred sentences sentences continuing from the user's text. Match the level of familiarity with characters/settings as presented.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "We came across an old road and followed where it led.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "In the early evening, the countryside became somehow familiar.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Include this dialogue snippet naturally: \"Yes, yes, you've walked with me before.\")", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't recognize it. I'd seen very little of the world, but a good witch has a sense of the land.\n\nMy curiosity got the better of me, and I hopped off Gwurm's shoulders to speak with the road. I knelt low and asked, \"Have I been here before?\"\n\nHe spoke with a rough, dry voice as any neglected, dusty road should.\n\n\"Leave me alone.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon, but I think I've been here before.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you have,\" he grunted. \"Perhaps you haven't. A great many feet have trod upon this old road. I can't be expected to remember them all.\"\n\nDespite his protests, I knew every road recollected all those who'd traveled upon it. I also knew that such an old, neglected road wouldn't volunteer information freely.\n\n\"And how very presumptuous of you,\" the road added, \"to ask me anything after treading so callously on my back.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but isn't that what roads are for?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. To be walked and rolled across without thought all hours of the day, that is my job. Answering questions is not. Now on your way. Stomp away with your cruel hooves and clomping troll feet, but stop pestering me with questions.\"\n\nNot all roads were so bitter. A well-used, well-tended road is a contented beast of burden. All too often, prosperity leads men elsewhere, and the streets are left behind to grow resentful. This particular road could never have been that important to begin with. He didn't even have remembered greatness to ease his ill temperament.\n\nI stood for a moment, saying nothing.\n\n\"Off you go,\" the road growled.\n\nI remained. None of my companions questioned my motives though Newt did clear his throat impatiently.\n\n\"Oh, the cruelty of it,\" the road lamented. \"I, who have helped a thousand travelers find their way, can't even flee from a single bothersome witch. Wait as long as you like. I have nothing but time.\"\n\nI let Penelope go, and she immediately set to sweeping.\n\n\"Oh, my. That feels...\" The road exhaled. Soft clouds of dust rose and fell. \"...splendid. It's been ages since I've been tended to. That's it. Now to the left. More. More. Just right.\"\n\nI snapped my fingers, and Penelope returned to my side.\n\n\"Don't stop! Don't stop!\"\n\n\"Answer my question, and I'll allow her to continue.\"\n\nThe road didn't hesitate. \"Yes, yes, you've walked with me before.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Years are meaningless to me, but I know it was when I was more well traveled. Long ago. Your promise. Keep your promise.\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nPenelope was every bit as eager as the road. She danced back and forth as he sighed pleasurably at her tender caress. He directed her between approving murmurs, and his pleasure drove her into a fervor of sweeping.\n\n\"What's wrong with her?\" asked Newt.\n\nI climbed back on Gwurm's shoulders.\n\n\"Harder,\" groaned the road. \"Oh, yes! That's it. That's the spot!\"\n\nNewt squinted curiously.\n\nI covered his eyes. \"It's impolite to stare.\"\n\nWe continued. Penelope fell behind, tending to the road. I trusted she would catch up and left her to her passion. It was barely an hour later that a broken-down cottage came into view. Like the land, it was oddly familiar. I ordered a stop.\n\n\"What now?\" asked Newt.\n\nI gave no explanation as I studied the abandoned house. It was wholly unexceptional. I climbed the porch steps and pushed open the creaking door to find nothing but dust and spiderwebs inside. It had been a long time since anyone called this place home.\n\nWyst dismounted. \"Is something wrong?\"\n\nWe walked around to the back of the overgrown yard. A door in the earth beckoned. The rusted hinges broke when I opened it. The evening twilight refused to enter the darkened hole.\n\n\"Are you feeling well?\"\n\nThe worry in Wyst's voice meant much of my witchly inscrutability had fallen away. I would've reassured him, but I wasn't certain how I felt. There were so many thoughts and emotions welling up that I couldn't pick out just one. I descended into the earth, and in the darkness, I found the past I'd left behind so long ago. This was the countryside of my birth. I hadn't recognized it because I'd only seen it once while living in Ghastly Edna's charge. I'd worn a cowl then and kept my eyes closed most of the time. Sunlight had bothered me much more then. But I knew this place.\n\nMy cellar.\n\nWyst's shadow filled the door. \"Witch?\"\n\nI placed my hand against a rotted support beam and found an omen in the splintered grooves. \"We camp here tonight.\"\n\nNewt's silhouette appeared between Wyst's feet. \"Here? In the basement?\"\n\n\"No. You can camp outside.\"\n\n\"But there's at least another hour of daylight,\" said Newt. \"Shouldn't we keep going?\"\n\n\"Tonight comes the next trial. Here.\"\n\n\"In the basement?\"\n\nI wasn't feeling very witchly at the moment and threw him a glare that never climbed out of the darkness.\n\n\"And what do you mean another trial?\" he said. \"Already? We just had one yesterday Nothing for weeks and then, two trials right atop one another. Where's the sense of pace to this quest?\"\n\nI wasn't in the mood for this. And sometimes, when a witch gets properly annoyed, her magic responds unbidden. A breeze swept through the cellar and up the stairs.\n\n\"I would think whatever force was in charge of quests would quack quack quack quack.\"\n\nI smiled. Then I frowned because a witch should never allow herself to do magic by accident. Especially malicious magic.\n\nNewt kept on talking. Or trying. \"Quack quack quack.\" He cleared his throat. \"Quack quack quack.\" He drew in a deep breath and expelled one last disgusted duck call before disappearing from the doorway.\n\nWyst dared step one foot in the dark that I'd called home so many years. \"Witch, are you certain you're well?\"\n\nI glanced up at that handsome face. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to shine. \"Certain? Can anyone be certain of anything?\" It sounded vaguely witchful, but I was off my game.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I decided not to settle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainty is for fools and death.\" I liked that, even if I didn't really understand it myself. The phrase reminded me of what it was to be a good witch.\n\nI stepped deeper into the dark, where the shadows enveloped me. \"We camp here. Now leave me.\"\n\nHe hesitated.\n\nMy voice grew soft and scratchy. \"Leave me.\"\n\nSomething must've reminded Wyst of what it was to be a White Knight because he withdrew. His face went blank, and he vanished from the door.\n\nMagic didn't act on its own. It acted on the will and desires of others, and I had to wonder whose will had guided me here. It could've been Nasty Larry or Ghastly Edna from beyond the grave. Or Soulless Gustav. Or even myself. I didn't know the who or why of it, but I trusted to discover it in time.\n\nI stood alone for some time. The light filtering through the door faded. It was an overcast night, and my cellar became a black emptiness. A hole in the ground filled with nothing, just a scarcity of memories.\n\nMy childhood hadn't been much to remember. There was the spot at the bottom of the stairs where I'd waited for my meals to be thrown to me. There was the corner where I'd eaten those meals. And there was the other corner where I'd sat and slept between those meals. Countless days, but really the same day over and over and over. This place meant little to me now. It hadn't meant much to me before. I couldn't even remember my family. My life truly began the day Ghastly Edna had pulled me from this hole.\n\nIn another world, another time, an explorer of this cellar might easily find a hideous, terrified creature huddling in the dark, abandoned by her family and too frightened to leave this dusty void. A beast to be feared, despised, and pitied. The me that never was but so easily could have been.\n\nHarsh light burned away the dark. Wyst of the West descended the creaking stairs. I kept my back to him. I only knew it was him by scent. I had a predator's nose when it came to men. They were my curse's meal of choice.\n\nThe shadows fought against the invading lantern. It had been a long time since their sanctuary had been challenged, but they could only hiss and writhe and fight among themselves.\n\n\"Witch?\"\n\nI didn't turn to face the White Knight. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"Will you be spending the night down here?\"\n\nI lowered my head and closed my eyes. \"Perhaps I will.\"\n\nHe moved to the left, judging by the shifting light. I turned my head away. The lantern seemed so terribly bright.\n\n\"And the trial, are you certain we face it tonight?\" asked Wyst.\n\n\"We do not face a trial tonight.\" I raised a hand and watched the silhouette play against the wall. \"I do alone.\"\n\n\"By yourself?\"\n\nI offered no reply as none was needed.\n\nWyst stepped closer. I covered my eyes.\n\n\"But...\" He stammered. I'd never heard him stammer. \"...aren't we... working together?\"\n\n\"We are, but this next trial is one that only I can defeat. You, the others, will only get in my way.\"\n\n\"But...\"\n\nI turned my face to him and forced my eyes open. I could only squint, but I hoped it was a mysterious squint. \"There are things which must be.\"\n\nHe raised his lantern higher. The rabid shadows refused to fall across his pleasing face. Wyst of the West held out a hand. He closed it into a fist. Then opened it. Then put it atop his head and shrugged. He turned and moved toward the stairs.\n\n\"Wyst.\" As much time as we'd spent together, this was the first time I'd spoken his name.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I have a favor to ask you.\"\n\nThe cellar grew so quiet, I could hear the shadows whispering. I was very close to forgetting the whole affair, but he offered me courage.\n\n\"You only have to ask.\"\n\nI couldn't look directly at him. \"Could you hold me?\"\n\nWyst remained rigid and silent. I tried to read his face and found only earnest sobriety.\n\nI suddenly felt very foolish.\n\n\"I'm sorry. But I have glimpsed the creature I might have been, and I was hoping to find the mortal woman I should have been. If only for a moment. But I should've known even simple embraces are against your oath.\"\n\n\"They are\"—He set down his lantern and clasped his hands together—\"discouraged.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't have asked. My apologies.\"\n\nHe moved before me and put a hand on my shoulder. \"Discouraged. Not forbidden.\"\n\nAnd just like that, he took me in his arms. Gingerly at first. I had little experience in physical affection, and he was pre sumably out of practice. But it wasn't so complicated. We leaned into each other. His arms circled just above my waist. My hands rubbed his back in small circles. I nuzzled his neck. My hat fell off, and I didn't care.\n\nThe shadows ceased muttering at the sight.\n\nWyst was so warm, and his touch triggered the heat within my cold, undead flesh. The cellar seemed a frozen hollow. My heart beat faster. My skin tingled. My stomach twisted.\n\nThis was what my curse denied me. I could savor it for only a moment. The trust. The warmth. The imperceptible made tangible, given form in this man. I suspected nothing could be better than this. Except for possibly ripping out his throat and lapping at the sweet blood gushing forth. Probably not even that.\n\nMy stomach rumbled loud as thunder.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At least, it seemed so to me. I was reminded of what I was. I pulled away. It wasn't so easy. My arms let go with great reluctance, and I sensed some resistance from Wyst. Or maybe only imagined it.\n\nThe invisible mark on his forehead flickered, and I knew I hadn't. Wyst's purity remained intact, but beneath the White Knight was a mortal man. Unfortunately, I'd rediscovered the accursed fiend within me as well.\n\nHe said nothing. He turned, picked up his lantern, and stared up the stairs.\n\n\"Wyst, thank you.\"\n\nHe paused at the door and spoke so softly I barely heard him over the chattering shadows. \"You're welcome.\"\n\nThen he was gone, and I was left in the basement again. I wasn't alone anymore. On one side hunched the creature I might have been. On the other stood the woman I should have been. In this forsaken place, both were as real as the witch between them, but there was another world atop those stairs. A world where only one of us was true. So I bid them good night and many good tomorrows and ascended from this pit into the night.\n\nThe others were camped around the front of the cabin. I followed the sound of irritated quacks. Everyone was waiting there but Wyst, who was nowhere to be seen. But his horse was still here. He couldn't have gone far.\n\nPenelope dragged herself to my side. Her tryst with the road had left her exhausted.\n\n\"Enjoy yourself?\" I asked.\n\nShe raised into the air and bobbed.\n\n\"Very good, dear, but you should learn to pace yourself. Now go rest.\"\n\nNo sooner had she floated away then Newt stood before me. He quacked once and glared.\n\n\"I vote to leave him like that,\" remarked Gwurm.\n\nNewt shouted something rude at the troll. Though I was fluent in duck, I didn't bother translating.\n\n\"He's been like this all night. Persnickety and foul-tempered. More so than usual. Maybe you should change him back after all.\"\n\nI waved a hand. Newt belched and instantly began questioning me. Demons don't learn lessons easily. \"What did you do to the White Knight? He didn't say a word after coming out of that basement. Strangest look on his face. I don't like it. You shouldn't be consorting with him by yourself. It's dangerous.\"\n\nI smiled. \"Life often is.\"\n\n\"Where's your hat?\"\n\n\"I must have left it in the cellar.\" Absently, I ran my fingers through my silken hair. \"I don't need it right now.\" I glanced into the overcast sky, just bright enough for my undead eyes.\n\nNew scowled. \"And when is the next trial anyway? I'm getting tired of waiting. Does the magic think we have nothing better to do than sit here all night?\"\n\nI put a finger to my lips and shushed him. He bit his tongue. I guess he'd learned his lesson after all.\n\n\"My apologies, mistress.\"\n\n\"Quite all right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to face the next trial.\"\n\n\"By yourself?\" asked Gwurm.\n\nI nodded.\n\nNewt stood in my way. \"But, mistress, I'm your familiar. My place is by your side.\"\n\n\"Not this time.\"\n\nI stepped around the duck.\n\n\"What happened to your limp?\" he asked.\n\nI hesitated at the edge of darkness. \"Oh, that. I don't need that either. Wait here. I'll be back shortly. Or not at all.\"\n\nI slipped into the night and went in search of my trial. My thoughts were elsewhere, but an omen in the clouds told me I wouldn't be looking for long. It was already waiting for me in the overgrown fields.\n\nTwo shadows rose from the grass. One was a skulking ghoul. The other was a slip of a young girl. The creature that I might have been and the woman I should have been. Reflections given substance through powerful sorcery.\n\n\"You didn't really think to leave us in that basement?\" asked the ghoul.\n\n\"We will always be with you,\" said the woman. \"We have always been.\"\n\n\"I know. We all carry many selves, but in the end, these are just phantoms of possibility, nothing more than ghosts of broken destinies.\"\n\nThe ghoul cackled. \"Ghosts no more.\"\n\n\"So I see. But even the greatest sorcery can't serve three fates from a single portion of destiny.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the woman. \"And that is why only one of us will walk from this field.\"\n\n\"And I shall be that one,\" hissed the ghoul.\n\n\"We shall see, sister,\" replied the woman.\n\nNone of us could kill the other because, at this moment, none were true enough to die. This was why neither Wyst, Newt, nor Gwurm could be of any help. Only I could return my shadows to the nether from which they'd been summoned, and I could only do this by keeping them from snatching away my identity. Reality was on my side. Yet this might not be enough. Reality was a fickle ally at best.\n\nThe ghoul struck first. She was my curse unchecked by Ghastly Edna's witchly lessons of patience. The woman stood back, smiling as if victory were already hers.\n\nThe ghoul leaped, hands outstretched to wrap around my throat. As if she could throttle her existence from me. As if I could be slain by strangling. Her technique was instinctive and direct, but I was her match in speed. I struck her across the jaw with a backhanded fist. She fell to one knee.\n\nThe ghoul raised her head, grinning. Blood dribbled down her chin. \"Very good, witch. You stand revealed for what you are. A creature of strength and power. Do you not feel the gush within your undead heart when you call upon your curse? Do you see now that all your magic is just a trifle? It will let you down one day. But your curse, that shall always be there for you. For me.\"\n\nThe ghoul darted to one side faster than I could follow. Raking claws tore open my face. I raised a hand to defend myself, but she ducked aside. Her first attack had been a feint. She was quicker than she'd let on.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A fist smashed into my back and knocked the wind from lungs that didn't really need air.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 72 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Surprised, witch? Fast as you are, deadly as you are, I am far deadlier.\" She latched on to my throat and squeezed until vertebrae cracked. \"I am your physical power developed to its ultimate. Beside me, you are a weakling. Where is your magic now?\" She dropped me into the grass.\n\nI sat up. My breath was ragged. My face was bloodied, and a terrible rage growled within.\n\n\"You can't deny it. You want to be me, to feel the certainty that I feel. To know your purpose without question. To seduce and slaughter and glut yourself on delectable mortal flesh. Your conscience is your misery. It is a burden that I don't have, and a burden you yearn to be rid of.\"\n\nI was tempted, and I felt my reality trickle into the ghoul. Her murky body thickened as mine darkened. I could see her now. Truly see her. She was a hideous creature, every bit as flawless as I, but there was more to beauty than full breasts and green eyes. Her movements were jerking. Her eyes were full of fiendish hunger. Her lips ever snarled, even as she grinned. Her hair was a shimmering black tangle falling like a cape across her back.\n\nI ran fingers across my stinging knuckles and torn face. There was truth in her words, but it was a small truth.\n\n\"Conscience is my burden, but all worthwhile gifts have their price.\"\n\nShe shuddered. The stream of existence reversed, and she began to fade.\n\n\"But it could be so simple,\" the ghoul hissed. \"Why hold on to that which only makes your life difficult?\"\n\n\"Because life is complicated and difficult. Anyone who says otherwise hasn't truly lived.\"\n\nShe melted into the earth, but not without one last gasp. \"I'll be back. No one can resist their nature forever.\"\n\nI didn't deny this. To do so would have been arrogant, and arrogance would have been the first step toward her prediction.\n\n\"One day, witch, you will wake up to discover I have become you.\"\n\n\"Maybe one day. But not tonight.\"\n\nThe ghoul faded away to a black spot on the ground.\n\n\"She never had a chance,\" said the woman.\n\n\"She had a chance.\" My wounds disappeared. They had never been real. \"Just not much of one.\"\n\nThe woman stepped before me. \"I, on the other hand, have already won.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nThe stream rushed into the woman. My stolen substance filled her. She was a pretty creature, not nearly as beautiful as I. But I could see myself in her slightly plumper figure and soft brown eyes.\n\nShe lowered her head. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"You only take what I offer.\"\n\nIt was a strange thing. I didn't surrender myself to her because I hated what I was or because mortality was all that tempting a fate. I liked being a witch, and I'd grown accustomed to my curse. It denied me little. Nothing but the one desire I couldn't ignore anymore.\n\n\"He won't love me,\" she said. \"I may be you, but I am not the you he knows.\"\n\nIt was true, but it didn't make any difference. I loved Wyst, and my heart fantasized that as a woman, he could love me back. It was an unlikely dream. Even if I weren't undead, he would still be a White Knight. Dreams are rarely founded on truth, and this sorcery drew on my deepest wishes. I couldn't change those. Even with magic.\n\n\"I'm sorry\" The woman wiped a tear from her eye.\n\nI sank into the dark earth and for an instant I knew what it was to be a ghost of destiny. But it was brief, even for an instant.\n\nMagic, not my own, crackled through the air. The earth spit me out, and I snapped back into truth. The woman fell at my feet. I felt a terrible pity for her, but she just smiled ever so softly before fading into oblivion. The second trial was finished. Once again, I was alone.\n\nThe woman may have been my heart's desire, but my curse was more powerful than this sorcery and my innermost yearnings. Nasty Larry denied my escape even through altered destiny.\n\nI could've become the ghoul. The curse wouldn't have minded, but Ghastly Edna had saved me from that. Her education had given me more than magic. If she'd been here, I would have thanked her.\n\nShe would have most certainly replied, \"We all save ourselves, child, even if we are fortunate enough to have help along the way.\"\n\nSmiling, I offered her silent thanks anyway and headed back to the camp.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "continue this part. its from middle of story so expect established chars. 39 sentences sentences in A. Lee Martinez style. genres: comedy, fantasy. elements: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Upon my return, Wyst was still gone, and I worried. I didn't fear for his safety. He could take care of himself well enough. But I'd sensed our brief embrace had shaken his virtue, and a White Knight's virtue was his greatest possession, his defining quality. Though he'd agreed to the minor violation, I never should have put him in the position to make it. Terrible errors are rarely made all at once. Usually they are performed one small misstep at a time. It had been wrong to ask, but I couldn't make myself feel bad about what had happened in my cellar. This wasn't surprising. The wrong thing often feels right. Such is the nature of temptation.\n\nI took my place beside the campfire without saying a word. Gwurm handed me some bloody flesh to chew upon. Newt couldn't contain his impatience.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\nI sucked on my fingers. \"It's done.\"\n\n\"Just like that?\"\n\n\"Just like that.\"\n\n\"You defeated the second trial?\"\n\nI chuckled. \"Me? No, I'm afraid not.\" Ghastly Edna and Nasty Larry had overcome the trial.\n\n\"So you lost?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nNewt grunted. \"I miss the old bat. She may not have told me everything, but I don't remember her being so con­founding.\"\n\nI realized that as much as I loved Ghastly Edna, we were two very different witches. She'd lived by herself with a duck and a cursed girl, both of which did whatever she told them to without question. She might offer a verbal riddle here or there, but she'd spoken little. I was part of a much larger world and demands were made on my witchliness that I'd never seen my mistress face. I liked playing with words, watching how they might say so much and so little at once.\n\n\"Is the second trial over then?\" Newt dared ask.\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Good. Two more then?\"\n\nI nodded again.\n\n\"Any idea when the next one is?\"\n\nI didn't answer.\n\n\"Forget I asked.\" He put aside his confusion. I'd given him enough practice at it.\n\nNothing was said after that. Newt and Gwurm went to sleep, but I wasn't tired. I contemplated the overcast night.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A soft breeze swept across the fields, and my hair frolicked in the air.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been a long time since it had been free to dance with the wind.\n\n\"I knew you were going to be trouble,\" said Wyst's horse.\n\nHis unsolicited comment surprised me. Up to now, the beast and I hadn't spoken. He'd been spurning me, and I hadn't given it much thought.\n\nHe didn't look at me and rocked his head. \"Trouble.\"\n\nI walked over and tried to pet his muzzle. He pulled away.\n\n\"Hello.\"\n\nThe horse snorted.\n\n\"Have I done something to offend you?\"\n\nHe strode a few paces away and turned his head to look at me with one brown eye. \"You're a witch. That alone should be enough.\"\n\n\"Ah, so you don't like witches.\"\n\nHe flicked his tail in my direction. \"I've nothing against them exactly, but I am the loyal steed of a White Knight. It doesn't seem right to speak with one, even a mostly harmless witch.\"\n\nI paced a wide circle to get around to his front without drawing too close. \"Mostly harmless, am I?\"\n\n\"Did I say mostly.\" The horse smacked his loose lips. \"I meant largely.\"\n\n\"Is there a difference?\"\n\nHe closed his eyes and kicked the grass. \"Leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" I turned away\n\n\"You'll be the end of him, and he was such a fine cham­pion.\"\n\nI stopped. \"I would never harm him.\"\n\nThe horse neighed a mirthless chuckle. \"You've already done him harm. You've started him down the path of corruption. Once a White Knight starts down that road...\"\n\nI lowered my head. \"I never intended...\"\n\n\"What you intended is hardly relevant. What did you do to him in that basement?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" I whispered to soften the lie.\n\nThe horse trotted behind me and nudged my shoulder. \"It's not your fault. I know you can't help how you feel any more than he can. That's why it's happening. Do you think you're the first temptation we've come across? There have been others. More than I can count. Wyst has drawn his share of lovely admirers. Why shouldn't he? He's virtuous and brave, handsome and gallant, everything a woman might want. But all the others loved the Knight, not the man. You're different. You see him as none have, and he sees that you see. How can anyone not love someone who loves them for who they are? Especially someone more beautiful than all the others combined.\"\n\nI reached out and stroked between his eyes. \"I didn't want it to happen.\"\n\n\"Neither did he, but it did. And it will.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not.\"\n\nHe stuck out his tongue. \"I've been his boon companion for a very long time. I know Wyst better than anyone. Sometimes, better than he knows himself. He's out in the fields now, meditating, struggling to clear his mind of these urges. They teach White Knights to suppress their baser desires. But even a great Knight such as Wyst can't stifle his love.\"\n\nSo great was my surprise that even a lifetime of witchly training couldn't hide it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Agape, I stepped away from the horse.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He loves me?\"\n\nThe horse shook his head. His lips turned in a sardonic grin. \"Very much so. More than even he suspects.\"\n\nI struggled to contain my excitement and mostly succeeded. The only trace of my joy came in a soft smile and a spontaneous sprouting of sunflowers at my feet.\n\n\"Do you love him?\" asked the horse.\n\nI answered without hesitation. \"Yes.\" A pair of silver butterflies materialized in my palm. I let them into the air with a wave of my hand.\n\n\"That's it then,\" sighed the horse. \"He's doomed.\"\n\n\"I would never hurt him.\"\n\n\"There are more dooms than death. A White Knight touched by love is ruined. They can't return to a life of virtue after that.\"\n\n\"You don't understand. I'm cursed. I can't love him, not as a mortal woman loves a man.\"\n\nHe nervously nibbled on the tall grass. He chewed a mouthful and spat it out. \"You can. And you do.\"\n\nI wanted to argue. More than anything, I wanted to correct the horse of this notion, but everything I might say would be a lie. Since neither of us would believe any untruth I could offer, I didn't bother. Instead, I seized on a comment I hadn't noticed before.\n\n\"Beautiful. You said, I was beautiful?\"\n\nThe horse gulped down more grass and spoke with his mouth foil. \"Did I? I don't recall.\"\n\n\"Yes, you did. More beautiful than all of Wyst's former admirers combined, that's what you said.\"\n\n\"Are you certain?\" He chewed on his far shoulder to avoid looking at me. I waited for him to grow bored ignoring me.\n\n\"Oh, yes, yes. I did say that.\" He lifted and pawed each hoof twice. \"We saw you bathing in the lake, months before we came to Fort Stalwart. Wyst had lost track of the gobling horde, it was very elusive for a horde, and while trailing it through a patch of woods, we saw you.'\n\nI'd forgotten my last day with Ghastly Edna and my bath at the lake. I'd known someone had been watching. Now I knew who. And I had only been down there because my mistress had ordered me to. There could only be one reason behind it. Ghastly Edna had wanted me spied upon. It was against the witch's code to be seen in so vulnerable a state, and I couldn't fathom the reason. Even long dead, my mistress could confuse me. There had always been a lesson somewhere to be learned, and I assumed this would be no different.\n\n\"Personally, I don't know what makes a woman desirable,\" remarked the horse.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I've always liked a strong back and sturdy haunches, a nice mane. You've got the mane at least. And whatever women are supposed to have, I presume you have that as well. Because I felt Wyst's lust rise the moment he laid eyes upon you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 24 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word count directive: Use 'responsible' exactly 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I frowned. I didn't want Wyst's lust. I was a beautiful creature, supernaturally so, and men couldn't help but desire my flesh. If the only reason Wyst couldn't resist me was my curse, then I would rather he feel nothing at all.\n\nThe horse shook his head. \"You still don't understand, do you? It was merely lust at first. A stronger lust than usual perhaps, but lust nonetheless. Wyst was its master. Then this quest started, and over the days, it became something more. And it's all your fault. If only you'd been a proper witch and kept your distance.\"\n\nI almost argued that Wyst was just as responsible, but even if it was true, everyone is only responsible for their own actions. The blame was mine. And still I couldn't make myself feel bad about any of this.\n\nBecause Wyst loved me.\n\n\"Shame,\" said the horse. \"He was such a terrific champion of virtue.\"\n\nI laid by the campfire, closed my eyes, and tried to get some rest. I couldn't even stop from smiling.\n\nWyst returned sometime later. I pretended to sleep and watched him by magic through closed eyes. He stood over me for a long while, just looking. Then he bent down and barely touched my cheek. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss and nibble him. But I didn't. This wasn't the right place or time, and something in my eyes told me Wyst wasn't ready. But he would be, and I could wait until he was.\n\nWyst laid down, a mere arm's length away. He didn't go to sleep. A sweet smile across his lips, he just kept looking, and with him watching over me, I had no trouble getting the rest I needed.\n\n\"Trouble,\" snorted the horse just before I fell into a peaceful slumber.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "This is mid-narrative so expect established characters. Write 41 sentences sentences like A. Lee Martinez. Genres: comedy, fantasy. Themes: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd always been the first to wake in the morning, if I got any rest at all.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But my sleepless nights must've finally caught up with me, and I slumbered, nestled in dreams of Wyst of the West.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd dreamed of him before, but never like this.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The previous had been carnal in nature, fantasies of fleshly and carnivorous desires.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This night, I dreamed of nothing more than being held in his strong arms. It was the loveliest dream, over and over again throughout the night. On the surface, it was very innocent, but I knew it was more serious than all my other fantasies. When the time to leave the dreaming world came, I was reluctant to do so.\n\nMorning light usually disturbs my deepest slumber. When it finally did just that, the sun was already halfway over the horizon. I sat up and shielded my eyes from the sun. I couldn't look at it directly, but it was a very pretty morning.\n\n\"I retrieved your hat from the cellar,\" said Newt. \"Thought you might need it.\" He held it up in his bill. I took the pointed, black hat and pulled it low over my head to shade my eyes. I didn't tuck my hair away, and Newt glowered at the shimmering strands.\n\nI bent down and rubbed a handful of dirt on my face. Not as much as I should, but this was mostly an exercise of habit. All my companions knew I was beautiful. There was little point in hiding it.\n\nI tried wiping away my slight smile with little success. I could only hope it came across as ambiguous. Not the smile of a woman in love, but the knowing grin of a witch listening to the whisper of magic.\n\nI glanced over at Wyst of the West. He looked back at me, and neither of us shied away. He climbed onto his horse without turning his eyes from mine. We both smiled, softly for most people, but beaming for a witch and White Knight.\n\nNewt said something, but I didn't catch the words.\n\nI pulled my gaze from Wyst and down to my familiar. \"Pardon?\"\n\n\"I asked which way now, mistress?\" The question came with an impertinent tone. Especially the last word. I was in much too good a mood to be troubled by it now.\n\nGwurm boosted me onto his shoulder as I replied, \"We follow the road.\"\n\nPenelope floated into my hand, and Newt took his place on my lap. And we started on our way. As the cabin shrank away, I tucked away its memory. It was worth remembering, not for the quietly miserable childhood but for that brief moment when Wyst and I held each other. That embrace made the highly probable into an unavoidable certainty.\n\nWe journeyed in a silence of words but with a great chatter of glances. Wyst and I would steal sidelong peeks, but we weren't fooling anyone. Gwurm and Penelope were polite enough to ignore them. Newt voiced his objections with snarls and grimaces and one exceptionally displeased glower. And the miles passed away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Late in the morning, Wyst's horse became uneasy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He stopped without warning.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wyst patted his mount's neck. \"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"This isn't right,\" snorted the horse.\n\n\"How so?\" I asked.\n\nThe horse blinked three times very deliberately. \"Up ahead. The countryside is wrong. Not right at all.\"\n\nI hopped from Gwurm's shoulder and cleared my head. Beasts possess senses even witches lack, but now I knew to look for something. It took a few long moments of careful study to spot the horse's observation.\n\nNature is chaotic. Even a tranquil field of flowers is full of disarray, even if it is subtly so. But the landscape before us was a picture of perfect order. The first thing I noticed was the trees. There were four ahead, and yet each was the same in every detail with a bending trunk and an exact arrangement of branches. Even the bark was the same shade and texture with the same knot in the trunk of each.\n\nI noticed the stones scattered ahead next. They were more varied, coming in three different shapes and sizes. Only three. Once I saw it for what it was, I even noticed the grass was arranged in uniform rows with the deliberate patterned arrangement of three short blades, a taller blade, and two midsize. This wasn't nature. It was only an incredible simulation.\n\nThe horde of phantom goblings was one thing, but to recreate the world so completely was an act of unparalleled sorcerous might. It was also the product of a madman. This sorcerer didn't want to remake the world in his own image. He just wanted to remake it for no other reason than he could. Sorcery for sorcery's sake, a grand experiment intended to wipe away the heart of the world.\n\nOnly now did I understand just how insidious such a design was. Only now did I truly grasp the power I faced. I was afraid, fearful that my magic wouldn't be a match for it.\n\nFear is only a bad thing when it provokes poor decisions. Otherwise, a little dread can be healthy. I held my trepidation close. When the time came, it would serve me to keep from underestimating what I might face.\n\n\"What is it?\" Newt asked.\n\n\"A dream of madness.\"\n\nI left it at that. None of the others could understand. Nor did they need to. Wyst spurred his horse onward. The steed hesitated, but as the boon companion of a White Knight, he had the courage to cross into this sorcerous reflection.\n\nThere was a stillness to this false world, and even its small movements were calculated. The fields swayed with unerring predictability. The tree branches bobbed in unison. The clouds overhead swirled in precise, lazy shapes. The phantom kingdom acknowledged our presence with a minimum of response.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Our footfalls kicked up small dust clouds, each identical regardless whether spurred by hoof or troll foot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The grass parted, only to snap back into rank and file.\n\nI was horribly uncomfortable. We all were, but I could feel the void in this land. There wasn't life in any of this. I couldn't talk to the grass or speak with the trees. They were dead, empty things. If this was how mortal men saw the world, what a cold, dark place they lived in. I understood why they gathered together so obsessively now.\n\nWe must've been close to the end of our quest, but this was only a guess. I couldn't find a single omen in this empty land, and any whispers of the magic were muffled beneath the smothering sorcery. I was so ill at ease that I didn't see the first spontaneous movement in the land until Gwurm pointed it out.\n\n\"That's a strange-looking cloud.\"\n\nA white puff broke formation and darkened. Small pock ets of lightning sizzled within, creating two glowing, electric orbs. The cloud leered with its sparkling eyes. A mouth parted in its rumbling billows, and it chuckled. It was an ail-too-human chuckle, too soft to be heard all the way on the ground, but we heard it anyway.\n\nWyst drew his sword.\n\n\"Oh, my,\" said the cloud. \"Tell me, my good Knight, just how do you plan on slaying a cloud with that blade, assuming you possess some method of reaching me way up here in the first place?\"\n\nThe voice was flat and even. It sounded as if spoken gently in my ears, as if this cloud were beside me. But space was a triviality in a place that didn't truly exist.\n\nThe cloud squinted. Rather, its eyes dimmed. \"Now let's see what we have here. A White Knight, a troll, a duck, and a witch. An odd assortment of adversaries, I must say. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you face-to-face, so to speak.\"\n\nI tipped my hat to the cloud. \"And you must be Soulless Gustav.\"\n\n\"If I must. My reputation precedes me.\" The puff resumed its part in the lifeless dance, and the face disappeared. It reappeared in the tall grass. Purple flowers bloomed for its eyes.\n\n\"There really is a Soulless Gustav?\" whispered Newt.\n\nHe was heard. I suspected everything unusual was heard by this realm's master. \"Well, I would certainly hope so. Who else could send out those plagues of strangling intestines and melting brains?\"\n\n\"You really do that?\" Newt asked.\n\nThe grass split into a wry grin. \"On occasion. When it suits my purpose. Or when it strikes me as amusing. Or when I just feel bored and in the mood to sow some terror. Not so nearly as often as people claim, but that is the advantage of a well-cultivated reputation. After a while, it does its own work.\"\n\nOne purple bud closed in a wink.\n\n\"You've done well to get here. Of course, I expected you would. My magic is not so strong in that place you would call reality, but you've crossed into my kingdom now. Foolish mistake, that. I'd tell you to turn back, but it's too late.\"\n\nWyst struggled with his uneasy horse for a moment. He put away his sword.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hear me now, sorcerer. I am Wyst of the West, Defender of the Weak, Destroyer of the Foul, Sworn Champion of Decency, Avowed Foe of Evil, and by the Order of White Knights, I shall see your madness ended.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "[System: Include the following text] → \"Unfeasible at this stage, I'm afraid. I've yet to craft a phantom troll to my liking. It's the dignity, I think. Your race has a quality, a grace that is rare in such loathsome creatures.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Firstly, my good Knight, my madness ends when I say it does. Secondly, I could argue that anyone who threatens grass is perhaps grappling with madness himself.\" Soulless Gustav moved from the field to a tree. \"Thirdly, the lifestyle you have taken upon yourself is surely a sign of a far more twisted mind than my own. Tell me. Do you ever wonder what sort of man sacrifices even the simplest joys for the good of the world?\"\n\nIt was a trick question. I would've answered it with a barbed response, but Wyst was no witch.\n\n\"A man with a great passion for justice!\" he shouted.\n\nThe tree rattled its branches. \"A great passion, yes, but isn't too great a passion madness in and of itself?\"\n\nWyst fell deeper into the trap. \"Not if that passion is righ­teous.\"\n\n\"Well, there you have it. Righteousness is a great moral quandary, isn't it? Such debates are for scholars and learned men who have nothing better to do but sit around and talk about life rather than live it. I am merely a legendary sorcerer, and you, a virtuous, quite possibly mad, White Knight. My point is, both of us have our goals, and both of us are willing to do whatever we must to achieve those goals. You've given up everything worthwhile in your quest for justice. I've seen thousands devoured by my phantom gobling horde. I see very little difference in the two, save for mine is a lot more fun.\"\n\nWyst drew his sword and snarled. \"Come forward and face me, sorcerer. Or are you frightened because you know your doom is upon you?\"\n\n\"Ah, there it is. The bravado, the fervor, and fury. How heroic. How courageous. How inane. Wyst of the West, you are no doubt a great White Knight, judging by your perfect banality. But you are also a great boorish simpleton. Afraid? Of you? My dear, dear Wyst, you really have no idea what you're up against. Well, courage is merely equal parts overconfidence and idiocy\"\n\n\"I'm not the one hiding in trees and grass.\"\n\n\"I'm through talking with you, Wyst. You are of no con­sequence.\"\n\nHe left the tree. A whirlwind of dust kicked up before us and congealed into a man of sand. He was tall and thin, wearing a robe of gravel. His face was gaunt with a pointed chin, and he had polished jade for eyes. This was Soulless Gustav, if not quite in the flesh.\n\nHe walked to Gwurm. \"Did you know, I've always had a fondness for trolls. In fact, my horde of goblings was nearly a crush of trolls.\"\n\n\"Nearly?\" asked Gwurm.\n\n\"Unfeasible at this stage, I'm afraid. I've yet to craft a phantom troll to my liking. It's the dignity, I think. Your race has a quality, a grace that is rare in such loathsome creatures.\"\n\n\"I've often thought so.\"\n\n\"Goblings, they're easy. Malicious, slobbering, one-dimensional beasts. Wrap an illusion around a ravenous hunger and you're done. Don't worry though, my friend. I'll get it right. Your race will not be forgotten in my new world.\"\n\nGwurm smiled without a hint of sarcasm. \"Good to know.\"\n\n\"Care for a walk, witch? I would have a word with you.\"\n\nI hopped from Gwurm's shoulder. Wyst spurred his horse forward. Soulless Gustav smiled with teeth of shining quartz.\n\n\"There are things this witch and I must discuss. Things you wouldn't understand, Wyst, as they have nothing to do with poking villains with swords or impotent blustering.\"\n\nWyst jumped from his horse and ran Soulless Gustav through. The sorcerer shook his head. \"All that righteous fury and not a blessed thing you can do with it. Pity. I can imagine your frustration.\"\n\nI put a hand on Wyst's arm. \"He's right. We must speak of things that only sorcerers and witches can. Stay here.\" I set down Newt. Much to my surprise, he didn't protest being left behind. I took Penelope along.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Having my broom made me feel a better witch.\n\nSoulless Gustav and I walked away from the others. Every step covered the space of four by the sorcerer's will, and they were soon figures on the horizon.\n\n\"It seems rude that you should know my name, and I, not yours,\" he remarked.\n\n\"I have no name.\"\n\n\"Everything has a name, even if it is unspoken. But suit yourself.\" He shrugged, and dust and stone fell from his shoulders. \"So now that we have finally met, am I everything you expect? No. Don't bother answering. I know what you're going to say before you say it. You weren't expecting any­thing?\"\n\n\"Up to this moment, I hadn't given you much thought.\"\n\n\"You cut me to the quick.\"\n\nI lowered my hat. \"It wasn't an insult. You were only an idea before. More of a notion, really. Important, yes, but not worth excess consideration.\"\n\n\"And now?\"\n\n\"And now you are more. And still not worth excess consideration because I have seen you for what you are.\"\n\nSoulless Gustav frowned. \"Is that not another insult?\"\n\n\"Merely an observation. Only you can decide whether to take offense or not.\"\n\nHe ran a flat gray stone of a tongue across his sandy lips. \"In that case, I believe I shall.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" I turned my back on him. It was both witchly and a mark of confidence. I didn't fear the sorcerer just now. There was a way to these matters.\n\n\"I certainly was not expecting you,\" said Soulless Gustav. \"The magic told me a witch was coming, and I knew you to possess notable talent to have defeated my horde. So naturally, I was expecting an old crone, warts and hunch and missing teeth. But you are such a lovely, lovely creature.\"\n\nI wasn't surprised he saw me as I was. He was a master of illusion.\n\n\"I am cursed.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"So I see. Afflicted with perky bosoms and soft lips and a nice, firm bottom. I generally prefer my woman plumper, but I must confess, I've never been more attracted. I assume the desire is part of your curse.\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"Excellent work then. My compliments to its maker.\"\n\nA wind swept beneath me, raising my skirt. A stream of dust flowed between my feet to re-form into Soulless Gustav before me. \"Nice legs too. Slender and supple thighs. Glorious calves. Never underestimate the appeal of a well-formed calf.\"\n\n\"Life is in the details.\" I wasn't about to let him know he'd struck a sore spot.\n\nIt was his turn to put his back to me. \"You've come a long way to die, witch. Care to tell me why?\"\n\nI thought of Ghastly Edna, and this was surely the man who had taken her from me. My anger rose, but it didn't get the better of me. \"Reasons are of little consequence. They are justifications for doing what we would do anyway. And who's to say I've come all this way to die?\"\n\n\"The magic has shared its secrets with me. I have taken care of any obstacles to my better world before they could become a bother.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The magic has shared a few secrets with me as well.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 31 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps an exchange would be in order.\"\n\nI stepped close behind him. \"Perhaps not. If the magic really wanted us to know, it would've already told us.\"\n\n\"Excellent point, but you can't seriously expect to defeat me. My will is law here. That's the perfection of my dream. The old world is a turmoil, a jumble of a thousand thousand parts thrown together. My world shall be a marvelous unity. A creation of one will with one purpose: to serve me.\" He turned back on me. A sapphire tear rolled down his cheek. \"Surely, you can see the beauty in that.\"\n\n\"Harmony, perhaps. Beauty, no. The world is a mess, chaotic and unpredictable and often inforiatingly uncertain.\" I glanced to the horizon at the troll, duck, and White Knight. Each has his place in my life, and each had become important in ways I never could have fathomed. That was why I valued them so.\n\n\"And one beautiful chaos,\" I said, \"is worth a thousand spiritless dreams.\"\n\nI thrust my hand into Soulless Gustav's sandy body and wrapped my fingers around the hard lump of his heart. His jade eyes popped from his face. I pulled his ruby heart from his chest. His body collapsed into a mound of dirt and stone. I crushed the ruby into glittering shards.\n\n\"You didn't think to kill me that easily?\" asked a patch of moss.\n\nI didn't, but it did show me what I needed to know. My magic worked even in Soulless Gustav's world. Even more importantly, he could be taken by surprise here. He may have been lord of the realm, but I was not of his realm. I seemed a speck of truth in a universe of phantoms, but his perfect world was now infected with imperfect reality.\n\n\"Good day, witch with the unspoken name,\" said Soulless Gustav from the moss. \"If we meet again, I promise to kill you quickly because I like you.\"\n\n\"We shall.\" I grinned. \"And I shall kill you quickly because I have better things to do.\"\n\nHe chuckled as he disappeared.\n\nI stopped to pluck a flower for no other reason than to prove I could disrupt his grand, flawless order. Then I headed back to the others.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "StoryBot: Add 38 sentences to this segment. Style: A. Lee Martinez. Genre: comedy, fantasy. Note: Part of larger work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wyst handled his humbting encounter very poorly. It didn't show in an obvious way. Anyone else would've seen only a brooding, determined champion, but I felt his sullen annoyance with his own powerlessness. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinted into slits, lips pursed tightly, jaw throbbing. All subtle signs. But to my eyes, his moping was impossible to miss. I would've reassured him, but he was right. He was no threat to Soulless Gustav.\n\nA sorcerer Incarnate need not fear an army of White Knights. I wasn't certain he should even fear me. Soulless Gustav wasn't invulnerable. Nor did his terrible madness have much chance of spreading across the whole world. Magic did rather enjoy the world, and the magic was stronger than Soulless Gustav, Incarnate or not. I assumed even now, fate was preparing for another to confront the sorcerer should I meet the horrible death Ghastly Edna had prophesied. And another should my successor do the same. Destiny was constantly setting designs in motion, most of which would never achieve fruition. Fate was an energetic child with a short attention span.\n\n\"What I don't understand,\" remarked Gwurm, \"is that if this is all Soulless Gustav's illusion, then why doesn't he just turn it all to quicksand or a volcano or something like that and kill us right now?\"\n\n\"Don't give him any ideas,\" Newt said.\n\n\"It isn't as simple as that,\" I replied. \"The sorcery that crafted this is powerful, but such a creation is delicate by its very nature. Right now, it is a flea on the dragon of reality. As long as the flea remains unnoticed, it can slowly sap the dragon's strength. Should its sting be felt, it will be crushed with casual impunity.\n\n\"Every bit of sorcery takes that chance. Soulless Gustav is a great sorcerer. He has created a phantom realm most could never comprehend. But his world is a bloated, hungry parasite, and I imagine a tremendous amount of his magic is spent whispering lullabies in the dragon's ear. It would only take one mistake, one phantom too many at the wrong moment, to wake reality and bring all his plans to a crushing end. His power is at its most dangerous here, but it is also at its most vulnerable.\"\n\n\"It can't be both,\" Newt said.\n\n\"Magic thrives on contradiction.\"\n\n\"Like accursed beauty, for example.\"\n\nHis observation didn't bother me as much as I would've expected. I didn't want to be beautiful, but I found I didn't mind as I once had.\n\nNewt balked. \"I don't believe it. He didn't act like a man with a lot to fear.\"\n\n\"That's because he doesn't have a lot to fear. We are only a small threat.\"\n\nWyst of the West exhaled sharply\n\n\"That's comforting to know,\" said Newt.\n\n\"The truth is rarely comforting. If it were, lies would not be as well received as they usually are.\"\n\n\"So why didn't you just do us a favor and lie?\"\n\n\"Witches often don't tell the whole truth, but we don't lie.\"\n\n\"Maybe you should think about making an exception.\"\n\n\"Very well. Soulless Gustav is an overrated sorcerer. His power pales beside my own. Even now, he is surely trembling in his iron tower, assuming he has one, and contemplating throwing himself on a sword.\" I stroked Newt's neck with my thumb. \"Feel better?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not really.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Actually, I do,\" replied Gwurm. \"Thanks.\"\n\n\"You're welcome.\"\n\nThe landscape in Soulless Gustav's kingdom slowly began to change. I imagined sorcerers, like witches, were never in complete control of their magic, and everything around us was merely Soulless Gustav's will given substance. Steadily, the world grew more menacing. The grass yellowed. Twisted, sinister grimaces appeared in trees. Heaving, gray clouds darkened the sky. A chill wind swept across the plains. I was gratefol for the dark and the cold, but there was no mistaking Soulless Gustav's hostility reflected in his creation. I thought some time on whether this hostility was founded in genuine fear or mere offense that we'd dared to disturb his empty empire. I didn't decide which.\n\nThe road came to a sudden end. It grew dark as dusk. We traveled onward, and the fields thickened. When the grass reached Gwurm's shoulder, I sensed the approach of our third trial. It wasn't found in an omen, but in good judgment. Soulless Gustav wouldn't tolerate our presence for long. We were an affront to his power just by being here.\n\n\"I don't like this,\" said Wyst. \"Perhaps we should turn back and find an easier route.\"\n\n\"There is no easier route,\" I explained. \"There is only one way to Soulless Gustav, and that is the way he has given us.\"\n\nThe sharp blades scraped my legs. It was fortunate that trolls possessed thick skin as Gwurm didn't seem to notice. Wyst's horse trotted on with only an annoyed snort. The field reached my shoulder atop Gwurm's back and was soon over my head. If Soulless Gustav was intending to separate us then we would be separated. But as we emerged from the grass, I knew this wasn't his plan. The fields ended without warning into a circle of bare earth.\n\nOn the opposite end, figures broke through the grass. I recognized them immediately for they were us. They were akin to the shadows that had tried to steal my reality, but Soulless Gus­tav wasn't resorting to the same trick as before. Magic dislikes repetition as I was certain any self-respecting sorcerer did.\n\nWe stopped, and our doubles halted. They were exactly like us in formation and stance, every nuance of movement. But they were gray, lifeless duplicates, possessed of lusterless color and a certain lack of detail. I noticed it in Wyst's pleasing face and its absence in his copy. The features were still there: the chewy lips, the nibblesome ears, the bitable nose.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But they were somehow not the same. It had much to do with his expressions or the lack of them. All the doubles wore blank faces. Even Penelope's copy carried its bristles in a limp, languid manner.\n\nWyst drew his sword. His duplicate did the same. I climbed from Gwurm's shoulders as my double descended from his double.\n\n\"What manner of sorcery is this?\" asked Wyst.\n\nI closed my eyes and listened to the magic. It whispered ever so softly, despite Soulless Gustav's desire to suppress it. We were to be given a fighting chance.\n\n\"Effigies. They've been sent to be killed by us.\"\n\n\"Now isn't the time for riddles,\" said Newt.\n\n\"No riddles. They're reflections of sorcery, but we are also reflections of them. If they die, we die.\"\n\n\"You're saying we can't kill them?\"\n\n\"We certainly can, but we'll be taking our own lives.\"\n\n\"This is a cowardly assault.\" Wyst jumped from his horse. His double reproduced the move exactly, yet somehow lacking the grace. \"Come out and face us, sorcerer! Unless you are afraid!\"\n\nDespite Wyst's heartfelt valor. Soulless Gustav didn't materialize to meet the challenge.\n\nWe stood there for some time. We watched our effigies. They, in turn, watched us.\n\n\"Maybe we can get around them,\" suggested Gwurm, but this idea was quickly put aside. The effigies matched us move for move, as perfect as a mirror. They couldn't be outmaneuvered. As long as we didn't advance, neither did they, and it gave us time to think on the problem.\n\n\"What if we just maim them?\" asked Newt. \"Would we be maimed in return?\"\n\n\"They will not be maimed. Injuries which we could survive will kill them. They're made to die.\"\n\n\"I've got it,\" said Gwurm. \"If we don't attack them, they won't attack us. Right?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"They have been sent to be killed.\"\n\n\"How are we supposed to defeat foes made to be de­feated?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"We let them defeat us?\" theorized Gwurm.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Again, I shook my head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They will kill us if they can.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Can't you do something with your magic?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Newt said. \"Like make them just disappear.\"\n\n\"Such sorcery is beyond simple unmaking.\"\n\nA perceptible tension rose in my companions except for Gwurm, who accepted the situation with his usual pragmatism. The troll could've been a splendid witch. Wyst dealt with his stress as he always did: silent, steely resolve. Newt, however, wasn't about to allow his annoyance to go unspoken.\n\n\"Well, this is just unfair.\"\n\nThe observation seemed absurd coming from a demon, yet it was perfectly understandable. To demons, anything they dislike is unfair. He'd made similar remarks about such diverse injustices as not being able to fly and not being allowed to slay any mortal that struck him wrong. Which was every mortal. Like all these perceived inequities, he was mistaken. I wanted to kill Soulless Gustav. He wanted to kill me. There were no rules beyond that, and even if I found myself confronted with an apparently unbeatable trial, I couldn't fault him for that.\n\nOut of frustration and boredom, Newt and Gwurm experimented with our effigies. My familiar did a silly dance just to watch his duplicate do the same. The troll exchanged his feet and hands and walked around upside-down. They taunted the effigies with crossed eyes and stuck out tongues. The faces were the only element not copied, remaining blank. Wyst did nothing. He just stood there, weapon in hand, jaw clenched, and full of heroic determination and a pinch of moping.\n\nNewt snarled. \"I don't really walk like that, do I?\"\n\n\"Not quite,\" Gwurm replied. \"There's an impalpable oddity that the effigy can't quite duplicate.\"\n\nThe duck sat. \"So if they kill us, we die, but if we kill them, we die. I'm out of ideas.\"\n\n\"Not every problem can be solved through violence.\"\n\nHe turned up his bill. \"Most can. It's the rare dilemma that can't find resolution with a quick disemboweling.\"\n\n\"If you'd care to go and disembowel yourself,\" suggested Gwurm, \"go right ahead. We'll just stand here and watch.\"\n\n\"I don't see you coming up with any solutions.\"\n\nGwurm shrugged. \"Alas, I'm mostly a problem basher my­self.\"\n\nNewt grinned smugly, finding vindication in Gwurm's admission.\n\nSoulless Gustav may have finally come up with a trial to end my quest. I pondered if death by effigy qualified as horrible. I didn't think so, but there was an undeniable awfolness to the paradox the sorcerer had put us in. We could either sit here forever or go and meet our deaths.\n\n\"You're the witch,\" said Newt. \"You're supposed to handle obstacles of this sort. Don't you have any ideas?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Perhaps I do. Stay here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the immediate response, include regular direct quotes", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where are you going?\" asked Newt and Wyst simultaneously.\n\n\"To have a talk with myself.\"\n\nI walked forward, and my effigy moved to meet me in the center of our arena. When she got closer, I observed a flatness in her. She seemed not quite three-dimensional, and when we came within scant feet, I noticed a shiny quality, almost as if she were made of colored glass.\n\nPenelope slipped from my hand. She angled a threatening tilt at her duplicate.\n\nI greeted my effigy with a slight smile. \"Hello.\"\n\nShe remained expressionless. \"You should never have come. You should have left Fort Stalwart to die.\" She didn't possess my voice. Hers was a dry monotone, neither high nor deep, and lacking anything in the way of character.\n\n\"Is that me or Soulless Gustav speaking?\" I asked.\n\n\"You. Or rather the you that finds reflection in me.\"\n\n\"If you are me in any fashion, then you know I couldn't do that.\"\n\n\"I am more you than even Soulless Gustav intended.\" And she smiled though only for a moment.\n\nIt made perfect sense. The sorcerer's power was at its most dangerous but also its most vulnerable. My effigy was so well constructed that it carried some of my own magic. Once again, his false world was tainted with reality.\n\n\"But I was still made to kill or be killed,\" she said, \"and I must do what I was made for.\"\n\n\"That, I know. But I also expect that as my effigy, you know how I can destroy you.\"\n\n\"I do, but why do you think I would tell you?\"\n\n\"Because witches don't lie, and I think you are enough my duplicate that you don't either.\"\n\nShe looked into the angry sky in a slight display of independent movement. \"But we often don't tell the whole truth.\"\n\n\"Yes, but it is a witch's trade to offer wisdom.\"\n\n\"Even to her enemies?\"\n\n\"Especially to her enemies.\"\n\nWe shared a chuckle, even if hers was a lifeless, empty chortle.\n\n\"The answer is obvious,\" she said.\n\n\"Most answers are.\"\n\n\"You know the solution already.\"\n\n\"I expect I do since you do. But your counsel would be appreciated.\"\n\n\"And if I should trick you?\" she asked.\n\n\"Then I would perish with pride for what could be a greater accomplishment for any witch than to be tricked by herself?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"But yours is to be a horrible death.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"One doesn't necessarily exclude the other.\"\n\nWe turned away from one another.\n\n\"We are made to die, and we die easily.\" My effigy arched an eyebrow. I assume she did, since I did. \"Beneath the right hands.\"\n\nPenelope returned to my hand. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"No need for that. You have only yourself to thank. And Soulless Gustav for being perhaps too great a sorcerer.\"\n\nI returned to my companions, and she, to hers.\n\n\"Well?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"I think I told myself what we must do.\"\n\n\"You think? You aren't certain?\"\n\n\"Certainty is for death and fools.\"\n\nI'd used the line before, but I felt it appropriate to the situation and worth repeating. Then I explained what we were to do.\n\nNewt was skeptical. \"That's it? That's all?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But we'll still be killing them.\"\n\n\"No. We'll be destroying them. We may be reflections of one another, but we are true while the effigies are false. Even in this land of glass and shadow, the magic knows the difference.\"\n\n\"And if you're wrong?\"\n\n\"We die.\"\n\nA flutter filled my chest. I didn't fear death, but I wasn't ready to face my end quite yet. I glided to Wyst's side. He was so intent on the effigies, he didn't notice. I reached up and put a palm against his dark face. And I kissed him. On the cheek. As close to his lips as I dared.\n\nNewt gasped.\n\nWyst pulled away from me. Only a step. He placed fingers where I'd kissed him. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown either.\n\n\"Why did you do that?\"\n\n\"Because I might be wrong.\"\n\nI almost apologized, but I didn't regret it. Neither did Wyst, I thought. Though the mark on his forehead dimmed momentarily, his chastity remained intact. The kiss hadn't damaged his virtue.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "White Knights lived by a strict code, but even his enchantment couldn't fault him for a kiss he hadn't asked for.\n\nI led my companions forward, and we stood before our effigies. We drew close, but we didn't touch. The first contact between us would free our doubles to move on their own and begin a battle we couldn't win.\n\nNewt lowered his head and eyed his double. \"How are we going to test this theory of yours?\"\n\nMy reply was a swift, hard kick to his rear. The effigies duplicated the maneuver among themselves. Newt popped into the air and landed on his back. His effigy exploded in a puff of feathers.\n\nNewt, the true Newt, remained whole, though with bruises to his bottom and ego.\n\nIt had worked. The effigies were intentionally fragile phantoms, but they could only be killed by the hands of their originals. Yet they could be undone by turning the sorcery that had created them against itself. The pile of feathers around an agape bill was proof of that.\n\n\"Are you mad?\" Newt growled. \"What if you'd been wrong? You could've killed me.\"\n\n\"You are my familiar. It's your duty to die for me.\"\n\n\"That's true, but it's supposed to be a bloody, violent death. Not demise by booting.\"\n\n\"That's not your choice to make.\"\n\n\"I'd prefer it.\"\n\n\"I'll see what I can do.\"\n\nTheir weakness exposed, the effigies were simple to undo. The could only mimic whatever actions we performed, and they expired easily. The only curiosity was that each passed in its unique fashion.\n\nPenelope smacked Gwurm between the eyes barely hard enough to be felt. The troll's effigy's head caved in like a hollow rind and its entire body shriveled into a wrinkled skin. Wyst nicked his horse along the shoulder. The effigy dissolved into a watery gray puddle with bits of fur floating atop. I bent Penelope with light force. My double snapped her broom and shattered the effigy into crystalline shards.\n\nThe last two, Wyst and mine, were to destroy themselves together. Wyst put his sword to my belly in preparation.\n\nI turned to my effigy. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Don't be. This is what I was made for, and though my existence was brief, at least I knew its purpose.\"\n\nWyst drove his blade through my abdomen at the same moment I struck a hard slap across his cheek. His duplicate's head popped off. The decapitated body fell over, leaking a putrid white puss from the neck, and with a wide, unwitchly grin, my effigy dissolved into nothing.\n\n\"I still don't understand how that was different from killing them,\" said Newt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "OOC - Weave this into your narrative: \"You don't need to understand. Would you mind, Wyst?\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You don't need to understand. Would you mind, Wyst?\"\n\nHe pulled his sword from my stomach. A foot higher and an inch to the right, he would've pierced my heart. But the hole in my belly, even delivered by the man I loved, was a minor ache to my undead flesh.\n\nWyst wiggled his jaw. He'd known my slap was coming, and I suppose that made it honorable. Honorable enough to leave a small discoloration on his cheek.\n\n\"You're bleeding,\" he said.\n\n\"It's nothing.\" The wound would close on its own, but I could see it distressed him. I pressed my hand to the hole and seared it shut. It made him feel better, and I enjoyed the stench of burning flesh.\n\nHis enchanted sword repelled tarnishes, but a few smudges of dark syrup were left behind. \"Allow me.\" I wiped the blade with the loose hem of my skirt. The garment was already covered with mysterious stains, but I was always looking to freshen them. It gave me an excuse to get close to Wyst again. He didn't move away.\n\n\"I hope I didn't strike you too hard.\"\n\nHe rubbed the bruise and smiled. It was an open, honest smile. The first real grin I'd seen upon his face. I turned from his eyes and glanced at the blade. It was clean, and I polished the gleaming steel.\n\n\"Thank you.\" He returned the weapon to its sheath.\n\nI caressed his bruise with the back of my fingers. Then he leaned in and graced my cheek with a soft kiss. I hadn't expected it, but I was witch enough to hide my surprise.\n\n\"What was that for?\"\n\n\"For being right.\"\n\nHe squeezed my hand, and for a moment, we weren't a witch and a knight. The obstacles between us, my curse, his chastity, were almost forgotten.\n\n\"My good Knight, perhaps you are not so mad after all.\" Our destroyed effigies were gone, replaced by a red cloud cast in Soulless Gustav's shape.\n\nWyst let go of my hand and drew his sword.\n\n\"Oh, let's not bother with all that again,\" said Soulless Gustav\n\nWyst of the West slashed the cloud without effect. He didn't seem surprised, but he was too much a White Knight not to try. He put away his sword and stepped aside.\n\nSoulless Gustav billowed toward me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That was very good. Defeating my effigies and corrupting a White Knight. You are a credit to witches everywhere.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 15 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can't take all the credit. I was taught well.\"\n\n\"I see now that I'll have to deal with you myself.\" He waved. The grass parted. \"Follow this path, and you'll find a cottage where you can spend the night. Enjoy it with my compliments. For tomorrow, I'll put an end to your troublesome, accursed life.\"\n\n\"Thank you for your hospitality.\"\n\n\"Mortal enemies need not be impolite. Civility is what separates us from the animals.\" He shot into the sky and away.\n\n\"I'm offended by that remark,\" Newt said.\n\n\"You aren't really an animal,\" commented Gwurm.\n\n\"I'm animal enough.\"\n\n\"Maybe, but you aren't all that civil either.\"\n\nNewt almost said something rude but reconsidered. I wondered how long his new manners might last.\n\n\"No one asked you anyway, you big, loathsome oaf.\"\n\nLonger than I'd expected.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Add to story with matching character/world context. Focus: comedy, fantasy. Include: humor.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soulless Sustav's cottage was more of a two-story wooden palace, simple in design but impressive nonetheless. It was early evening by the time we reached it. This was mostly a guess. I have trouble measuring time in the real world, much less a place where night and day came at a sorcerer's whim. Soft light shone from the cabin's windows. The large, crescent-shaped pane over the door sparkled in a rainbow of colors.\n\n\"I vote we keep going,\" said Newt. \"Why give the sorcerer more time to prepare?\"\n\nI laughed, and realized how much more I was doing that. There wasn't anything wrong with it. A laugh can be very witchly when soft and throaty. \"This quest will not be decided by a few passing hours, and I doubt Soulless Gustav is preparing anything.\"\n\n\"What if this is a trick?\"\n\n\"It isn't.\"\n\nThis didn't comfort his suspicious mind. \"How do you know it's not a trick?\"\n\nI could've explained to him that my vision told me everything I needed to know. Four trials made our quest. The chimera had been trial by combat. My ghosts of destiny had been trial by strength of self. Trial by peril had been found in our effigies. Trial by magic was the only one remaining, and this could be nothing but the final duel between Soulless Gustav and myself. I could've told Newt this. But I didn't.\n\nThe cottage door opened when we drew near. A scar-faced man stepped onto the porch. I recognized him as one of the men that had killed Ghastly Edna or, more accurately, an illusion cast in the exact same form. This one was clean and unarmed. It made it all the easier for Newt to cut off the man's head with a single swipe of razor sharp wings. The corpse fell over and sizzled away.\n\nA fresh servant, same as the last, stepped into the doorway. Newt moved to kill this one too, but I stopped him with a clearing of my throat.\n\n\"I'm at your service.\" The phantom spoke with perfect enunciation. Too perfect. The words sounded as if chopped from other sentences and pasted together. \"A warm meal awaits you all in the dining room.\" He stepped out of the doorway to allow us to enter. \"And there is an excellent stable just around the corner, good master Knight. Shall I take your horse?\"\n\nWyst refused to hand over the reins.\n\n\"Very good, sir. Allow me to escort you so that you might inspect its quality.\"\n\nHe looked to me for approval. Unlike Newt, Wyst trusted my judgment. It was a great honor. A White Knight's loyal steed was his most valued possession, next to his virtue.\n\nI smiled and nodded.\n\nHe nodded back and patted his horse's neck. \"I'll find it myself.\" He disappeared around the corner.\n\n\"I'm telling you,\" said Newt, \"the second we step inside, it's going to become a giant serpent head and swallow us all.\"\n\n\"I was thinking something subtler,\" said Gwurm. \"Like perhaps it would shrink until we were all smashed to a pulp.\"\n\n\"So you agree then.\"\n\n\"I might if I weren't so hungry.\" He was the first to walk through the doorway. \"Is that roast boar I smell?\"\n\n\"Fresh off the spit, sir,\" intoned the servant. \"I do hope you like it tender. The meat is practically falling off the bone.\"\n\nI followed, catching the scent of a tantalizing variety of raw flesh. \"Coming, Newt? Or would you rather stay outside with Penelope?\"\n\nMy broom had immediately taken it upon herself to scour the porch of every offensive speck and mote, no doubt left there for her by Soulless Gustav's considerate sorcery. Even for a cleaning implement, she could be terribly obsessive when it came to dust. She swept by Newt and hopped at him to get out of her way.\n\n\"I still say this is a trap,\" grumbled the duck as he followed me inside.\n\nThe cabin was well lit by dozens of lamps, but not too bright even for my undead eyes. I'd never seen such exquisite tapestries and rugs. Then again, I'd never seen tapestries and rugs, save for the worn, utilitarian carpets of Fort Stalwart. I had an eye for stitching, and their quality was obvious. Had they been real and made by mortal hands, they would've taken years to craft. The one with an embroidered image of Soulless Gustav, standing tall and smugly grinning, was especially impressive. It was so vivid, it could be mistaken for the genuine article. Its eyes even seemed to follow us. It added a touch of dread to the cozy atmosphere. I admired the sorcerer's sense of style.\n\nA banquet was set before us on a long table by the hearth. It was a wide table, but there wasn't an empty space. Soulless Gustav knew his guests. It was mostly meat, mostly raw or blood rare. A small bowl of fruit was present for appearance, and a loaf of fresh bread waited for Wyst. The food was all genuine, not illusion. A most thoughtfol importance as a phantom feast would sate our hunger without nourishment. Where Soulless Gustav found reality in this phantom realm was a mystery I didn't give much thought.\n\nGwurm and Newt warmed themselves by the hearth. I kept away from it and enjoyed the remaining chill of evening.\n\nThe servant gestured to a staircase. \"You'll find your sleeping accommodations upstairs. I'm certain they'll be to your liking, but should you need anything, please clap for me. Now unless you'll be needing me for anything...\"\n\n\"No. We're fine.\" I noticed the tremendous crystal chandelier over our heads. It caught every beam of candlelight and reflected it in a cascade of colors.\n\nThe servant dismissed himself as Wyst returned from the stable. He seated himself beside the bread, folded his arms, and studied the loaf.\n\nGwurm prodded the roast boar with his fingers, which he then licked. Newt eyed the troll.\n\n\"Well? It's poisonous, isn't it? It has to be poisonous.\"\n\nGwurm took a rib and sucked the meat off it. He rolled the flesh from cheek to cheek, poking it with his tongue while chewing. He shrugged, swallowed, and gobbled down the bone. \"Seems fine.\" He sat and tore off the boar's snout. \"Excellent, just the proper chewiness.\"\n\nNewt turned his back to the table. \"I'm not eating any of it. If it's not poisoned, it's something worse. Your guts will probably rot away now.\"\n\n\"Some things are worth the risk.\" Gwurm swallowed a juicy red apple and an uncooked rabbit in one bite. He must've liked the two together because he tried an orange and hen combination next. It met with a satisfied grin.\n\n\"You're going to regret eating that,\" muttered Newt.\n\n\"Probably,\" said Gwurm. \"Boar gives me heartburn. Pass some of that goose over, would you, please?\"\n\nNewt perked up. \"Did you say goose?\" He hopped onto the table and licked his bill over the succulent bird.\n\n\"You eat goose?\" Gwurm stuck out his tongue.\n\n\"It's my second favorite.\"\n\n\"But you're a duck.\"\n\nNewt closed his eyes and inhaled the goose's tempting aroma. \"A carnivorous duck.\"\n\n\"Yes, but, well, it just doesn't seem right.\"\n\n\"Birds eat birds every day.\"\n\n\"Big birds eat little birds,\" said Gwurm. \"That goose is twice your size.\"\n\n\"And perfectly seared.\" Newt smacked his bill. Demons are suspicious by nature but they're also easily tempted. He stood poised over the goose indecisively.\n\nI did him a favor and helped him make up his mind. It was an inevitable decision anyway.\n\n\"Is that duck I smell?\" I asked.\n\n\"Duck? Where?\" He found his prey, a raw bird on a platter, and attacked. He tore off a wing and gulped it down.\n\nGwurm grimaced. \"Now that is definitely just wrong.\"\n\nNewt was far too busy tearing into his meal to bother with a curt response.\n\nI took the bread and cut a thick slice that I offered to Wyst. He accepted it with a smile and passed a plate of raw turkey strips. We ate in silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the tearing and crunching of duck frenetically feasting upon duck.\n\n\"I'll say this for Soulless Gustav.\" Newt belched. \"He knows how to treat a guest.\"\n\n\"He's mad,\" I said, \"not rude.\"\n\nWyst excused himself. \"I want to be rested for tomorrow\"\n\nI didn't contradict him, but he wouldn't be facing Soulless Gustav. Not if I had any say in the matter. After he'd climbed the stairs, I clapped once.\n\n\"Yes, mistress?\" The servant was just there suddenly. Not materializing from nothing. More like he'd always been there, just unnoticed.\n\n\"I'll need a bath drawn. And a change of clothes.\"\n\nI paused, expecting Newt to say something discouraging. He was too contented to bother with even a displeased glare.\n\nMy bath waited in a room on the first floor. Like the servant, the room seemed to have not been there before and yet perfectly in place. The long tub was filled with ice-cold water, just as I liked my baths. I stripped naked before the phantom and slid into the water. The servant pointed out the variety of soaps and perfumes and a wardrobe that should possess whatever clothes I needed. Then he was gone again, back to his unnoticed oblivion.\n\nI didn't bathe often. I didn't really need to. My accursed nature did enough to keep me beautiful, but I enjoyed a nice, chilly bath every so often. It'd been too long since I'd had one. Not since I'd dipped myself in the lake the day Ghastly Edna had died.\n\nThe recollection made me smile. I missed Ghastly Edna, but she'd sent me to that lake with a purpose. I now knew that purpose. She'd known Wyst of the West would spy me, and that this would be laying the seeds of desire in his heart. Tonight would be her last gift to me.\n\nI enjoyed my bath for an hour. I waited for the water to wrinkle my fingers. It didn't. It never did. I pulled myself from the tub and picked through the perfumed oils. They were all quite lovely, but none could match my own natural scent, a subtle mix of flowers and strawberries along with a new aroma: fresh bread. No doubt added by the magic because Wyst would like it.\n\nI studied my form in a full-length mirror. I hadn't looked at myself, really looked, for a long time. I'd forgotten just how beautiful I was. My flawless, smooth skin was without a freckle. My figure was lean, yet blessed with the soft curves men wanted. My eyes sparkled. I was perfect, and even if a man's desires leaned toward blondes or short women, my curse made up for that.\n\nI found exactly what I wanted in the wardrobe. The silky gown couldn't be more unwitchly. It was soft and sheer and hid little. I slipped it on and smiled, despite myself. Even if I couldn't be a mortal woman, it was nice to indulge in those pleasures I normally denied myself.\n\nI wasn't quite ready to go upstairs yet. I crept outside. Both Newt and Gwurm sat by the fire and didn't notice. Penelope waited on the immaculate porch. She tilted to one side, then the other. Then floated a circle around me. She gave her approval with a hop and a twirl.\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\n\"So are you going to mate with him or eat him?\"\n\nThe gray fox sat at the bottom of the steps.\n\n\"I'm surprised you followed us into this false land,\" I said.\n\n\"I'd come too far to turn back now. Not when things were getting interesting.\" She grinned. \"I only regret that as a simple fox, I can't appreciate it all.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "You're continuing a chapter where characters are already established. Write 30 sentences sentences in A. Lee Martinez's style. Genres: comedy, fantasy. Elements: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wyst's btood tasted even sweeter than I'd expected.\n\nI en joyed a drop, gained in a moment when my passion and carnivorous lusts caught me unaware, and I'd nibbled his ear too sharply. It was the only slip. Though at the heights of our rapture, visions of rent flesh did flash through my mind. The carnal pleasures overwhelmed my appetite. Mostly.\n\nWyst put a hand to my grumbling stomach. The dark of his fingers against my alabaster skin seemed a perfect contradiction. We were so different on the surface, yet so much alike.\n\n\"Do you regret it?\" I asked. \"The loss of your virtue?\"\n\nHe put fingers to my chin and raised my face to his. \"If I'd regretted it, I would've stopped after the first time. And my virtue isn't lost, only my chastity.\"\n\nHis lips graced my forehead. I kissed him and my hand danced down his thigh.\n\n\"Again? You really will kill me.\"\n\nI smiled. He didn't know how right he was. With my curse, I could do just that. I could hold him in this bed and stoke his fires over and over again until every last ounce of his life burned away. The danger of that was a long way off. Wyst was a healthy specimen, possessed of enough stamina to survive a week or two in my dangerous embrace.\n\nI slipped over him and nibbled on his lower lip. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me tight against him. My stomach roared, no longer to be neglected. I found the strength to roll away. It was easier knowing he would still be here when I got back. I put on my gown and paused at the door just long enough to cast a sidelong glance at him lying there. Any more would have been too much temptation.\n\nPenelope waited in the hall. She didn't say anything, not in her unspoken way, but she did peek in the room to make sure Wyst was still alive. My shadow danced along the walls.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "/insert_quote: \"Can I kill him then?\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It twirled and frolicked, often leaving my feet to caper playfully along the ceiling.\n\nDownstairs, Gwurm was asleep by the fire. The fox dozed in his lap. Newt sat on the table, nestled among gnawed duck bones. He raised his head and frowned.\n\n\"As you're not covered in blood, I assume you didn't kill him.\"\n\n\"Sorry to disappoint you.\" I took a seat and glutted myself on every piece of uncooked meat I could reach. I was hungrier than I'd realized. Absolutely ravenous. This wasn't the meal my appetite desired, but flesh was flesh.\n\n\"What's the sense of robbing a White Knight of his purity if you don't bother killing him?\" said Newt. \"It's like running down a deer and then letting it go. I hope it was worth it, throwing aside your witchly ethics.\"\n\nI finished sucking down a turkey leg. \"I have seduced a White Knight, exposed the mortal man for all the world to see, and he doesn't resent me for it. Not only that, but I've tasted forbidden pleasures of the flesh and learned something about myself. I can't think of anything more witchful than this.\"\n\n\"Your mistress would disagree.\"\n\n\"I doubt that very much. It was by her design that this night came to pass.\"\n\n\"Vengeance is our quest.\"\n\nI laughed. \"Vengeance or death lay at the end of this journey, but not every journey is about the destination.\"\n\nHe yawned and perked up his head. \"Can I kill him then?\"\n\nHe already knew the answer.\n\n\"Senseless,\" he grumbled.\n\nThe tapestry of Soulless Gustav spoke up. \"I quite agree.\" The sorcerer stepped from the cloth. He kept his flatness. It suited him as even in three dimensions he was a slight figure. \"Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I have to go with the duck. It's bad form to not take advantage of a White Knight after you've, well, after you've taken advantage of him. It's ex­pected.\"\n\n\"A good witch does the unexpected.\"\n\n\"Excellent point, my dear witch with the unspoken name.\" He strolled to a chair and folded himself into a sitting position.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Although when the morning comes, I expect you will die.\"\n\nMy only response was a wry grin. I expected him correct, but then again, a great witch can even surprise herself on occasion.\n\n\"Speaking of morning.\" Soulless Gustav waved his hand, and hard light poured through the windows. \"You'll excuse my impatience, but I'd like to get this over with.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon.\"\n\n\"Not yet.\"\n\nHe glared. \"I am master of this realm. You dare to give me commands.\"\n\n\"Not a command. A request. You've been a most gracious host, and I would appeal to your generosity one last time.\"\n\nHis glares softened. \"Of course. Forgive me.\" He returned to the tapestry. \"I'll grant you two more hours. As they shall be your last on this world, I suggest you make good use of them.\"\n\n\"I shall. And thank you.\"\n\n\"The laws of hospitality apply to all men, lowly peasant and legendary sorcerer alike.\" Soulless Gustav resumed his silent watch over the room as darkness buried the morning.\n\nI allowed myself a few minutes to settle my full stomach.\n\n\"What did you learn about yourself?\" asked Newt. \"You said you'd learned something.\"\n\n\"I learned that I can never love a man. Not as a woman.\"\n\n\"You seem to be doing an excellent job so far.\"\n\nI smiled without mirth. \"A temporary indulgence. No matter what, I am accursed. My love will always be doomed.\"\n\nMy shadow stopped dancing.\n\nThe jagged truth tore at my witchly veil. Newt averted his eyes and fidgeted in the awkward silence. Penelope leaned against my shoulder.\n\n\"Life isn't about the things you can't have,\" I said. \"It is about those blessings you do find along the way.\" Though the truth is rarely a comfort, I found some solace in this.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I couldn't love Wyst for a lifetime, but I could love him for a short while more.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My shadow skipped around the fireplace as I moved toward the stairs.\n\nNewt snorted. \"You aren't fooling me. I know why you robbed him of his virtue. You made him vulnerable to protect him.\"\n\n\"Did I?\"\n\n\"Oh, stop pretending to be mysterious. I see through it all. Wyst may not have been a match for Soulless Gustav on his own, but he could've helped you. And you need every advantage you can get. But now, he's just a man. You've made him useless. You've taken him out of the game because you weren't willing to risk his life for your own.\"\n\n\"Figure that out all on your own?\" I asked.\n\n\"You're admitting it then?\"\n\nI only grinned.\n\n\"It is very witchfol,\" he said. \"To save a man's life by stealing his invulnerability. Your mistress would be proud.\" He didn't like acknowledging that and scowled.\n\nA good witch admits to nothing. I ascended the stairs without saying another word and entered Wyst's room. He lay on the bed. My eyes lingered on his lean, dark body. He smiled and held out a hand.\n\nHe traced my lips with his fingers. \"You are beautiful.\"\n\nI already knew this, but there was something in the way he said it. Something in his eyes as well. He saw more than my cursed flesh. He saw the mortal woman hidden inside that even I could forget was there. But in his arms, it was different. In his arms, I could almost forget the fiend.\n\nHe kissed me, and his flavorful lips stirred my twin hungers. The ghoul hissed and fidgeted, but she was smothered beneath the indulgences of the woman.\n\nNewt was wrong. Even without his enchantments, Wyst was more than a man. Much more.\n\nHe slipped off my gown and drew me onto the bed.\n\nAnd he was far from useless.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "AI writing task: segment from larger work -> 111 sentences sentences. style: A. Lee Martinez. genre: comedy, fantasy. note: established characters likely.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a benefit to being ageless. Time meant nothing to me, a vague abstraction. Two hours in Wyst's bed might pass as slowly as I perceived it. It could never last as long as I wanted, but I could draw out every moment, enough for a lifetime that might reach into infinity If I survived the next day, and still walked this world a thousand years from now, this night would always remain with me. When the dawn finally came, I was ready to meet either death or eternity.\n\nSoulless Gustav allowed me a slow sunrise. The light slipped through the windows, and I pulled myself from Wyst's arms. I reached for my silken gown but thought better of it. It would have to be left in this room, like so many things. I wrapped a heavy blanket over my body I leaned over Wyst and kissed his eyes, an earlobe, and finally his lips. Part of me wanted to wake him, but this was best. This was the only way it could be. I turned to the door.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nI'd hoped to steal away unnoticed. It would've made everything so much easier.\n\nI closed my eyes and didn't look back at him. \"It's time.\"\n\n\"I'll get my things.\"\n\n\"You're no longer enchanted,\" I said. \"Soulless Gustav would kill you even easier than he would have before.\"\n\n\"I won't let you face him alone.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nI glided to his side and enfolded him in my blanket to enjoy the feel of his skin against mine.\n\n\"You won't talk me out of this,\" he said softly.\n\n\"I know. You're a stubborn man, but I think you are very tired. I think you should go back to bed.\" I batted my eyelashes at him. His lids slipped half-closed.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" He yawned. He fell limp in my arms. I had no trouble holding him up. \"Don't do this.\" He nodded off and jerked alert. \"I have to protect you. I have to...\"\n\n\"You can't protect me as tired as you are.\" I covered his mind in sleep. Magic that would've burned away against his invulnerable aura only hours ago now proved more than his match.\n\n\"Forgive me, Wyst.\"\n\nI lowered him onto the bed. His slumber was peaceful, save for a soft frown across his lips.\n\nI descended the stairs. My companions sat ready by the table. I wasted no time on politeness and got dressed. Soulless Gustav had given me my hours. I wouldn't be rude and keep him waiting any longer.\n\n\"Gwurm, you'll find Wyst upstairs. Dress him and take him from this place. Penelope, you'll go with them.\"\n\n\"And me?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"You'll be coming with me.\"\n\nHe squinted with surprise. \"I will?\"\n\n\"You are my familiar, aren't you? Your place is by my side, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Well, yes...\"\n\n\"Good then. We'll see about that violent death you were hoping for. Although I make no promises.\"\n\n\"Yes, mistress.\" He beamed.\n\n\"And me?\" asked the gray fox.\n\n\"You can do whatever you like,\" I said.\n\n\"Then I shall come along too.\"\n\nGwurm went to fetch Wyst, and Penelope tried to force herself into my hand.\n\n\"None of that. You'll go with Gwurm. I'll most likely be dead very soon, and he'll need a friend. I'm trusting you to take care of him.\"\n\nShe stood straight and bobbed once.\n\n\"Good girl.\" I turned to Newt. \"It's time to go.\"\n\nHe couldn't resist smirking at Penelope, even though all he'd really earned was almost certain doom.\n\nThe phantom servant materialized by the front door. \"Right this way madam. The master is expecting you.\"\n\nGwurm descended the stairs with Wyst over his shoulder. \"Good luck.\"\n\nI glanced back at my troll, broom, and slumbering White Knight. \"Tell him I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"He'll understand.\"\n\nI wasn't so sure. Wyst was a proud man. He would've chosen to die by my side, and I was wrong to not allow him that.\n\n\"Tell him...\" I found the words very hard to say. I should've told Wyst in the bedroom. Now, I couldn't.\n\n\"He already knows,\" said Gwurm. \"Just as you know.\"\n\n\"Are we going or not?\"\n\nThe servant directed us onto a cobblestone path that led up to a tall hill. Penelope and Gwurm with Wyst and steed in tow headed the other direction. 1 didn't know if they'd make it, but accompanying me was certain death. Now they had a chance.\n\nI put aside the distraction as we marched up the path.\n\nMagic is everywhere in all things and all places, but there is more magic in some things than others. Accursed witches and Incarnate sorcerers draw arcane power like lodestones. As we drew closer, that power crackled in the air. The magic knew a terrible battle was about to begin, and it offered all its potency before us to ensure a colorful struggle.\n\nWitch magic is a subtle art. I may have been out of my element, but Ghastly Edna had prepared me. \"Remember, child, that magic follows no rules other than its own. Many of its followers fail to understand this. They fail to adapt when the magic demands it. Mostly because they've grown set in their ways. But a good witch knows her place, and a great witch understands that experience can as often be a burden as a gift.\"\n\nTo defeat Soulless Gustav, I only had to forget everything I'd learned, but unlearning was a witch's greatest talent. Perhaps I wasn't as far out of my element as I thought.\n\nI was expecting everything and nothing on the other side of the hill, but the landscape remained unexceptional phantom fields of grass. The cobblestones came to an end at a gleaming silver cube.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"The heart of a world that doesn't exist,\" I replied.\n\nThe shape of Soulless Gustav's face pressed through the shimmering surface. \"You should be honored. You'll be the first to glimpse the beautiful fate that shall replace this universe.\" He glanced to my companions. \"I expected you alone.\"\n\n\"The duck is my familiar. The fox is merely an observer.\"\n\n\"For posterity, eh? An excellent idea. Enter and witness my glory.\"\n\nHis face melted into the cube, and I stepped into its impalpable surface. It wasn't so much that I entered it as it expanded around my perceptions. First came the illusion of time to distinguish one moment from another. Then came the fantasy of space. Then came the other details of Soulless Gustav's creation. The countless lesser particulars that make up a phantom universe fell into place. I stood on the threshold of a miniature cosmos. Dozens of tiny planets swirled amid an endlessness of stars. Neither Newt nor the fox were with me.\n\nSoulless Gustav stood at the center of his universe. \"Beautiful, isn't it?\"\n\nI remained properly inscrutable. \"I suppose it is. In much the same way a painting of a flower can almost be as beautiful as the flower itself.\"\n\nHe glowered. Then sighed and smiled in a passable imitation of good humor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forgive me, witch. I've forgotten that you lack the vision to see what I've shown you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His solar system wound to a slow halt. A tiny planet ceased its orbit before me that I might glimpse its continents and oceans. If I looked close enough, I could no doubt see mountain ranges, forests, and deserts as well as villages and cities teeming with millions of phantom inhabitants.\n\n\"Mine is a flawless recreation. This is the universe, my universe. A small thing now, but it shall grow like a seed. And one day, mine will overthrow that flawed jumble you call reality.\"\n\nI slapped the planet and started it spinning again. \"How sad that you think this is a dream worth fighting for. You have my pity\"\n\nHis worlds twirled faster. He walked forward between the speeding spheres. \"You have courage, witch. I'll grant you that. This isn't your reality. Nor is it even that impure realm of sorcery outside this cube. This is my power, pure and undiluted. Here, I am a living god, and you are absolutely nothing.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. But I am a good witch, even here. And you are still a very poor sorcerer, even here.\"\n\nThe only sign of Soulless Gustav's rage came in a clenched fist. \"Your bravado doesn't fool me, woman. I sense your fear, your awe.\"\n\n\"You've lived too long among glass and shadows. You sense only those illusions you desire.\"\n\nHe raised his hand. An inch-high double of me stood in his palm. He waved his other hand over them, and it writhed and dissolved into moldering paste amid tortured shrieks.\n\nI smiled. \"Most impressive. If I were a phantom, I would be most terrified.\"\n\n\"How dare you...\"\n\n\"I dare. I confess to once having some dread over facing you, but that disappeared the moment you showed me your dream.\" I reached out and plucked a passing moon. \"All that power at your disposal, and this is the best you could do.\"\n\n\"All that I can do!\" Soulless Gustav snarled. His voice echoed from one end of eternity to the other as his civility crumbled at the edges. \"I have remade a universe!\"\n\nI shook my head and balanced the moon on my fingertips. \"There is already a perfectly good universe out there. Remaking it is a waste of magic, an exercise in futility\"\n\nThe orbit of his worlds grew erratic. They zipped about, barely missing one another.\n\n\"You dare mock my power.\"\n\n\"Your power, never. It is awesome without question. It is your vision that I find lacking. You have the gift to create whatever your will desires, to make the unreal real. Yet you choose to make something that already is. You lack the one thing every great sorcerer should possess: imagination. Without that, all the magic in this universe and a thousand others counts for naught.\"\n\nSoulless Gustav's anger was a cataclysm on his creation. Worlds smashed into each other. Stars flashed, only to burn away in moments. The moon on my fingertips cracked in two.\n\n\"You don't honestly think you can defeat me?\" he said softly through clenched teeth.\n\n\"Probably not,\" I agreed, \"but even if I lose, what difference does it make? Even if you succeed in your dream, what does it matter? Either way, this universe continues. Whether genuine or unimaginative illusion, I fail to notice the difference.\"\n\nSoulless Gustav drew in a deep, calming breath. \"Mine shall have one less accursed witch.\"\n\n\"Details. Unimportant trivialities. Pity though.\" I smiled wide. \"I've heard accursed witches can grow on you.\"\n\nSoulless Gustav's universe exploded. I didn't think it intentional, but this cosmos was a reflection of his will. I understood now why he'd allowed me into the heart of his madness. He wanted my approval in the shape of fear and wonder. I was flattered my reaction meant so much to him, but it wasn't because he respected me as a witch. It had been so long since he'd been criticized, I don't think he could've taken it from anyone. Such was the price of living in an empty dream. He'd forgotten that reality wasn't always to one's liking.\n\nWe hovered among the glittering shards of unreality for but a moment. They collected together. An ocean of sparkling blue water formed under our feet. A soft red sky grew over our heads. We stood on the surface without sink ing. Thousands of colorful fish swam beneath us. An immense, black eel parted the rainbow schools and sent soft waves across the ocean. Nothing serious enough to disturb our balance.\n\nSoulless Gustav folded his arms tightly across his chest. \"What do you think of my sorcery now?\"\n\nI knelt and pushed my hand through the depths. A fish swam right into my grasp. I pulled it out, holding it by the tail as it twitched. Its gills gulped for water as its mouth gaped. \"As impressive and pointless as before.\" I threw the phantom back into its home.\n\nSoulless Gustav scowled. \"You are starting to try my patience, witch.\"\n\n\"To be honest, mine is wearing thin as well. Shall we get on with it?\"\n\n\"Eager to die, are you?\"\n\n\"If death means leaving behind your vainglorious chatter, I welcome it.\" A witch rarely is so direct, but I couldn't resist jabbing at his narcissism. It was such an easy target.\n\n\"You can't win, you know. Would you like to know why?\" he asked.\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\nThe ocean churned and bubbled, forcing me to shift to keep my balance. Dark things with lumpish shapes surged beneath the waves.\n\n\"The magic told me that I had only one person to fear,\" he said. \"Only one who might pose any threat to me. A witch, ironically enough. It even told me where to find her. So I struck her down while she was unaware.\" He grinned. \"Very easily too, I might add.\"\n\nNow I understood those mysteries I'd almost given up on. Ghastly Edna had known what was happening that final day because the magic had spoken with her too. She could've saved herself, but she chose instead to be killed. She'd given her life to protect me. A witch was to die there that day. It wasn't unavoidable, but it was the most practical solution. Even in death, Ghastly Edna had been a great witch.\n\nI wiped the beginnings of a tear from my eye. \"Did perhaps the magic mention something of two witches living in the same cabin?\"\n\nSoulless Gustav's smug grin fell away as his ocean grew deathly calm. The shapeless things ceased their swimming.\n\nHe squinted. \"What?\"\n\n\"You killed the wrong witch. You took away the most precious thing in my life, and for that, I will kill you. But you have also given me a most precious gift, even if unintention­ally.\" I smiled. \"And for that, I shall kill you quickly.\"\n\nI reached out with my magic and found the two pieces of reality floating in Soulless Gustav's madness. They shone like beacons. I plucked them from wherever they were and drew them to my side. Newt and the gray fox materialized beside me.\n\n\"You've forgotten a few.\" Soulless Gustav waved his arms. An eel broke the surface and spat up four others. Though coated with slime, Gwurm, Wyst, Penelope, and the horse appeared startled but unharmed.\n\n\"They aren't part of this, Gustav,\" I growled.\n\n\"On the contrary, everyone and everything are part of this. They do belong to the old universe.\"\n\nWyst of the West drew his sword. \"Prepare to die, sor­cerer!\"\n\n\"Brave and tired words, White Knight.\"\n\nSoulless Gustav put a thumb to his chin. Angry red magic surged at Wyst. I sent a billowing tide of warm, blue power against it. They sizzled away against each other. The battle had begun, and none of the others knew, unable to sense the raw magic gathering around Soulless Gustav and myself.\n\nA cloud of glittering dark blazed around the sorcerer. Strange things swam in the furious, blood-soaked reds and bottomless, devouring blacks.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A chorus of greens, blues, and blacks entered my breast.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Oranges, purples, and grays added to the mix.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "// Mandatory inclusion (with quotes): Let them go. Kill me, but let them go.", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The magic rolled down my arms and collected into shimmering power at my fingertips.\n\nI flicked a portion at my companions, wrapping them in a bubble of whites and yellows with a dash of crimson to give the defensive magic teeth.\n\nSoulless Gustav sent inky tendrils against the shield. They burned away in invisible sparks, but the defense would fall beneath stronger assaults.\n\n\"You'll never defeat me if you waste your power protecting these specks. Then again, you won't defeat me even with all your power.\"\n\n\"Tell me, sorcerer. Who will you bore with your endless blather in your new universe?\"\n\nThis was my first direct confrontation with a disciple of magic, but Ghastly Edna had educated me on what to expect. To those with eyes to see it, it would start as a clash of color. Fragments of raw magic molded themselves to one's will, only to be unmade by the other before becoming anything more than possibilities. Dozens of potential magics were thrown between us in mere seconds. Blues collided with greens. Reds shattered oranges. Purples devoured whites. Unsuccessful magic still had some effect. The sea froze. The sky split open into geysers of steam and fire. It was always like this in the beginning. Until one magic finally found its way into being and gave its maker the advantage. As in most battles, duels of magic were usually decided by the first blow.\n\nI held my ground. Better than I'd expected, in truth, but I was slipping. That part I'd given to protect my companions left me the lesser. It was all I could do to unmake Soulless Gustav's sorceries. Soon I was on the defensive, straining against the flood that must come.\n\nIt was a span of seconds. Wyst didn't understand what was happening, and he couldn't hold himself back any longer. Some might have called it bravery. Others, foolishness. Still others, frustration. All would've been right. He raised his sword and charged. My protection clung to him, but it wouldn't be enough.\n\nSoulless Gustav thrust a palm at Wyst. Screaming blue oblivion surged forward. A sliver punched through my protection. Wyst staggered and clutched his chest.\n\n\"I'm impressed, witch. That should've burst his heart. Now, I'll finish the job. Unless you care to sacrifice yourself for him.\" He held an orb of blue death in one hand, an ebony spiked chaos in the other. \"You can only stop one. Choose wisely.\"\n\nHe hurled the orb at Wyst and the darkness at me. There wasn't any time to think, only react. I tossed a bolt of white in Wyst's defense while raising a wall against the dark. Neither effort was entirely successful. Wyst gaped, fell to his knees. His dark skin paled.\n\nMy flesh withered beneath Soulless Gustav's magic. Veins throbbed along my right arm. Muscles shriveled. The limb turned to sludge and dripped from my shoulder. Newt sidestepped the slime.\n\nSoulless Gustav twirled his hands. A serpent of golden power writhed over his head. \"I didn't think witches practiced such direct magic.\"\n\n\"There are many things that you don't know.\" I drew from the incredible power available. My curse did the rest. A fresh arm sprang anew.\n\nI kept my eyes on the sorcerer and did my best not to think of Wyst. He was going to die. I couldn't save him. Or the others. Any magic in their defense would only make me vulnerable. When I died, Soulless Gustav would kill everyone else. The practical thing to do would be leaving them all to perish. Their lives were meaningless in the larger scheme, but Soulless Gustav had already robbed me of someone I'd loved. He wouldn't take another.\n\nFortunately, only Wyst was headstrong enough to antagonize the sorcerer. Gwurm and Penelope stayed put. Newt sat impatiently at my side, but he wouldn't move until given permission.\n\nThe darkness around Soulless Gustav grew and grew. It hissed and throbbed, a living thing with him at its heart. It was as if he'd tapped into a hidden well of bottomless magic I couldn't even sense. Magic was infinite, but there were limits to how much could be safely harnessed. He seemed not even to strain as the dark cloud surged and billowed about him. The sheer metaphysical bulk of it should have crushed him. Yet there he stood, not just unharmed, but its master. Even containing boundless rage didn't keep him from his endless, irksome prattling.\n\n\"Fear suits you, witch. I see it across your face. I am everything here. The beginning and end. Yesterday and tomorrow. I am absolute and unconquerable.\"\n\nIf I was to have any chance, I needed to strike now. I threw everything at him without subtlety or restraint. A whirlwind of deadly magic that would've transformed legions into swine, turned rivers into shrieking bile, and driven kingdoms into riotous madness. It was a work of legend, a spell worthy of Nasty Larry himself. And it did nothing.\n\nThe dark storm overwhelmed the whirlwind. All my magic shriveled away beneath such unknowable power. I stood naked and impotent before the sorcerer.\n\n\"That's it?\" He frowned. \"That's all you have?\"\n\nI said nothing. I'd expected to lose. Now came my horrible death.\n\nNewt quacked with all his demon rage and rushed at Soulless Gustav. I could only watch as the sorcerer turned my familiar inside-out with a snap of his fingers. I closed my eyes and turned from the steaming mound of blood and feathers.\n\n\"Let them go. Kill me, but let them go.\" It was a foolish request. I now understood just how horrible my death was to be. I was to watch everyone I cared for die and be powerless to stop it. It was a destiny more terrible than I'd been prepared for, but fate has a way of surprising one.\n\nA gray fog curled around me. Invisible claws dug at my flesh. Blood trickled from my nose and eyes. Things pulled out my hair in clumps.\n\nGwurm and Penelope rose to my defense and suffered for it. A swarm of winged mouths poured from Soulless Gustav's sleeves. They snatched away Gwurm, piece by piece. Before he could even yell out, they disappeared into the sky Only his ear was left behind. Then Soulless Gustav simply drained Penelope of her animation. The slain broom clattered at his feet.\n\nSoulless Gustav clasped his hands together. Pressure crushed my ribs and liquefied my organs, but I didn't die. Such was my curse.\n\n\"Where are all your wry words now, witch? Your subtle wit? Your mysterious wisdom? It seems they have abandoned you, like your magic.\"\n\nI found the will to speak with pulverized lungs and a throat full of blood. \"Kill me and be done with it.\"\n\n\"Those are your final words then? Not very memorable, but to the point.\" He grinned, and the sea of ice swallowed up Wyst's loyal steed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Patience, my dear. The relief of death will come soon enough. I'm afraid you'll have to endure my vainglorious chatter just a while longer.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knelt beside the fox. \"I think I'll let you live. Perhaps even after I've remade the universe. As a reminder of this polluted yesterday.\"\n\nHe petted her muzzle, and the fox bit his hand. He yelped and shook her loose. Blood dribbled down his palm. She grinned as only a fox facing death could. Snarling, he sent a wisp of cold black, and she was a moldering skeleton.\n\nSoulless Gustav released me from my agony but held me immobile. I floated behind him as he walked to Wyst of the West. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't close my eyes.\n\nWyst pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself with his sword. He wheezed. It seemed a miracle he could even stand. His every breath was labored. Sweat soaked his skin. \"Let her go, sorcerer.\"\n\nI reached out for magic and found none. All power in this universe served Soulless Gustav, but this seemed a contradiction. Magic served no one. Even in this unreal place, the magic had to be real.\n\nWyst raised his sword in a trembling hand, standing on shaking knees. He didn't have any strength left. \"You won't kill her while I draw breath.\"\n\n\"Quite correct, but only because I want her to watch you die.\" Soulless Gustav raised his bloody palm, and Wyst floated into the air. The sorcerer rotated his thumb. Wyst's arm snapped, but he didn't yell out. Soulless Gustav wiggled a finger. Wyst's legs twisted. He gasped. Tears streamed down his face.\n\n\"This isn't your fault,\" he whispered.\n\nEven dying, he still thought of me. I wanted to reach out and touch him. To know his kiss one last time would almost make my horrible death tolerable. A current of magic trickled to my call, and I was free for the briefest of moments. Soulless Gustav raised an eyebrow and chains shackled me to the frozen ground.\n\n\"Perhaps you've suffered enough, witch. Time to end this game before it grows tiresome.\" A coil of black entwined around the Knight's throat.\n\nHe smiled painfully at me. \"I love you.\"\n\n\"Now those are excellent last words.\"\n\nWyst's neck broke with a soft crunch. His corpse collapsed in a heap.\n\nI didn't believe it. I couldn't accept it. The trickle of magic slipped from my heart and onto the dead Knight. Oddly enough, Soulless Gustav seemed not to notice.\n\n\"Ah, love. Think about it. You can't touch it. You can't see it. You can't really even describe it. Not without a fountain of ambiguous, pretty words. If you think about it, it's the greatest illusion there is.\"\n\nBehind him, magic filled Wyst's body. The white and greens danced along his broken form. His shattered arm straightened. Soulless Gustav seemed oblivious to it, and I wondered how he could be. It might've been because his own power was so great. Like a giant, unaware of the gnats buzzing at his feet.\n\nMore magic gathered at my fingertips. I sent it against the chains that held me. They rusted away\n\n\"So there's a little fight left in you yet.\"\n\nWyst stirred. I didn't know how. I couldn't raise the dead without touching them, and I couldn't heal them. He seemed perfectly whole. He stood, very surprised to be alive. Not nearly so surprised as Soulless Gustav.\n\nThen I grasped it. I hadn't restored Wyst's life. I'd unbe­lieved his death, and the dribble of magic running through me was different from what I'd called upon before because it was genuine.\n\nSoulless Gustav brought a portion of his incredible might down upon my head. I thrust a cone of red around myself and all that power splashed away without touching me.\n\nI passed my hand at Newt's body. With a slurp and gurgle, skin and feathers wrapped around his organs. He raised his head and glanced at his wings.\n\nSoulless Gustav gaped. \"How did you...\" He couldn't finish the question, so strong was his confusion.\n\nPenelope hopped to life as the icy depths spit Wyst's horse to the surface. Flesh sprang onto the gray fox's bones. Finally Gwurm's parts rained from the sky, falling into perfect arrangement. All were unbelieved back to life with just a few dollops of magic. Real magic.\n\n\"It's done, Gustav. You've lost, and you've only yourself to blame.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, witch.\" His deep, raging voice rumbled, sending cracks through the ice. \"Now you shall behold me as I really am.\"\n\n\"I already do,\" I replied softly. Too softly to be heard over his blustering.\n\nHe threw up his arms. Great monoliths of ice thrust their way to the sky. A downpour of steaming rain sizzled the air. The sorcerer grew fifty feet tall. His flesh turned to glittering silver, and his eyes became crackling lightning.\n\nI draped a golden dome over myself and my companions to keep the unpleasant rain at bay. \"I take back what I said before, Gustav. You have more imagination than I gave you credit for. Too much. You've forgotten that this isn't real. That was your first mistake, and I think you made it long ago.\"\n\nIce transformed into sand and rock. Clouds parted to reveal a swirling void. Chunks of earth were ripped from the ground and swallowed into it. Not a hair on any of our heads moved. I wished my friends away from this crumbling madness. They faded, leaving only Soulless Gustav and myself.\n\n\"I am a god here!\" growled Soulless Gustav.\n\n\"God of a dream. A master of glass and shadows. Lord of nothing.\" I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I was too amused. \"Here, in this place, your power is at its greatest. But here, in this place, your power is at its most vulnerable. Out there, in the true world, your illusions touch reality, and through that, gain substance. A man killed by a phantom gobling dies because even death can be fooled when the sorcery is potent enough. But here, death is merely a dream. To be accepted or disregarded at one's whim. And I don't accept it. I deny it all.\"\n\nI clasped my hands together and released a wave of magic and unbelief. Soulless Gustav's universe ceased to exist. It was too fragile to stand against even the smallest skepticism. Soulless Gustav had foolishly allowed me in, and it was far too easy to unmake it from the inside. It was like waking from someone else's dream. Black surrounded us. A tiny fountain of colors stood between us. The legendary sorcerer was reduced to his normal stature, a little shorter in fact. A dull aura of power surrounded him, far less than godhood. He knelt beside the fountain.\n\n\"This is all the magic of your realm,\" I explained. \"This is the well of life from which your universe drew existence. Everything else, even your godhood, was merely a delusion. Delusions stacked upon figments piled upon fancies on the shoulders of phantasms. A house of cards.\"\n\nThe sadness on his face stirred my sympathy \"Your first mistake was allowing me inside. Your second was in bringing the others. I was prepared for my death. I would've believed it, but I couldn't accept it for them. Their deaths, false though they were, showed me the truth.\"\n\nI passed my fingers through the fountain and pressed them to my lips. The raw magic tasted of blood and lemons. The fount was just a trickle, a drop borrowed from the real world to fuel a shattered cosmos. I almost felt sorry for Soulless Gustav as I plugged it with my toe and starved away the remnants of his world.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The darkness fell away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 63 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We stood amid the field of his impure sorcery, that place where reality and illusion mingled. A flood of power filled me when we crossed the threshold. Soulless Gustav hadn't lost complete touch with true magic. It swelled around him, but he was a broken man. Dreams he could no longer believe in surrounded him, and he wept.\n\nMy companions stood by my side. None could look at the fallen sorcerer save Newt.\n\n\"Do you want to kill him? Or can I?\"\n\n\"There's no need.\"\n\n\"But your vengeance. Surely, you're not going to let him live.\"\n\n\"Death would be a mercy. Now he lives, forsaken and miserable, without hope or joy or even the hollow fantasies of such. This is my vengeance.\"\n\n\"Now that is just cruel.\" He smiled at me. \"The mistress would be proud.\"\n\n\"And what about this place?\" asked Wyst.\n\n\"I could unmake it, but there's no need. It will fade on its own in time, and the world will never know it was here.\"\n\nI cast one last glance at Soulless Gustav, sobbing. My vengeance was more than I could bear to witness any longer. I turned and planned on walking away without looking back.\n\n\"You dare turn your back on me!\" He growled. His voice cracked. I felt the surge of magic as he called upon it. \"You won't be able to unbelieve death here, witch.\"\n\nMy companions moved to my defense. Their protection was unnecessary but appreciated.\n\nAll Soulless Gustav's subtlety was gone. His anger made his sorcery an obscene, vulgar effort. He molded it into a beast of fangs and claws and glaring red eyes of no discernible form. It was too hideous to be genuine, too grotesque and shapeless to be accepted by the universe. It was the final phantom, the stinging bite that woke the dragon. Soulless Gustav unleashed his own doom.\n\nI'd only meant the dragon as a metaphor, but the magic must've enjoyed the notion. The earth trembled as a black and red serpent parted the clouds and filled the sky. It couldn't be seen entirely in its vastness. It opened terrible jaws and a cleansing, white flame washed across the sorcer­ous kingdom. Save for the rumbling earth, it made no sound. The purifying blaze burned without even a crackle. The scorched landscape turned to ash, then nothing. The fire seared my companions without touching them. We were real. I didn't even feel its heat. Soulless Gustav wasn't so fortunate. Twisted and blackened, he lay on the barren earth. Soulless Gustav was soulless after all. He'd been living among illusions too long. Somewhere along the way, he'd become a phantom himself.\n\nHe drew an agonized breath. \"I curse you, witch with the unspoken name. From this day forth—\"\n\n\"Oh, do shut up.\"\n\nHis eyes widened. It was a breach of etiquette to interrupt, but the death curse I now carried was quite enough.\n\n\"Well, how rude.\"\n\nHe crumbled away. Penelope couldn't help but sweep his ashen remains into a neat pile.\n\nThe dragon disappeared. A portion of one massive golden wing was the last to fade. The figment of space was the last illusion to fade from Soulless Gustav's realm. The field of bare earth shrank and shrank until it was but a patch barely two feet across, the last monument to the foolish dreams of the greatest sorcerer that had ever lived.\n\n\"That's all it was?\" asked Newt.\n\n\"Doesn't seem like much,\" agreed Gwurm.\n\n\"Just because it became this,\" I said, \"doesn't make it less than it was.\"\n\nA gust carried away the ashes.\n\n\"So that's it?\" said Newt. \"It's over?\"\n\n\"Not quite.\"\n\nI knelt low and put a palm to the earth. Fresh green grass sprouted over Soulless Gustav's monument.\n\n\"Some dreams are best forgotten.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Today you will be acting as a writing assistant in the comedy, fantasy genre. Your partner will send something and you will write the next 119 sentences, matching their level of character familiarity.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Margle the Horrendous had a habit of collecting things. There were his books on various subjects of study arcane and lore obscure. His castle was filled with various monsters, or pieces of monsters, for purposes only wizards might fathom. Other chambers were filled with jewels, enchanted knickknacks, gold and other precious things, and all the peculiar odds and ends that ultimately meant little to wizards yet which they insisted on hoarding. He also had a great assortment of enemies who he had gathered over the years. Margle rarely killed his foes. Death rarely amused him. Instead, he kept them close, a grand collection of old rivals and fallen heroes. And as with all his collections, it was Nessy's task to take care of them.\n\nMargle was an exceptionally generous master, meaning that he was generally too busy to bother yelling at her, and when he did, he usually threw things not dangerously hard or sharp and missed more often than not. And Margle was frequently absent from the castle, leaving Nessy the run of the place— or at least the rooms that weren't forbidden to her, where she wasn't interested in going anyway because there were certainly many horrors waiting in Margle's castle. There were even one or two rooms the wizard himself never went into. And one place, The Door At The End Of The Hall, that even he avoided going anywhere near.\n\nNessy enjoyed maintaining Margle's vast library. And if she should take a peek at a secret volume or two while alphabetizing the shelves, Margle had yet to notice or care. She'd even picked up a handful of magic tricks. Nothing serious, but small spells of practical use. Feeding the horrors in the bestiary was the worst of her tasks, but even that she did without complaint. It was honest work and gave her a roof over her head and food in her belly, and though she knew that one day Margle would certainly kill her in a fit of rage or for some fiendish experiment or maybe just because it would amuse him to do so, she was glad to have it.\n\nExcept for the occasional overly chatty gargoyle.\n\n\"Did I ever tell you about the time I slew three ogres while armed with only a wet towel?\" Gareth asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Nessy polished his stone head with a rag as the gargoyle continued.\n\n\"Well, it was a terrible struggle....\" He blathered on for some time, and Nessy nodded as if listening. She pitied the poor soul trapped in a stone demon perched over an archway. Such was the fate of Margle's enemies. At least this particular enemy.\n\n\"Are you listening?\" Gareth sighed.\n\n\"No.\" Nessy was ruthlessly honest, not so much because she valued the virtue as because she seldom considered lying before she spoke.\n\n\"I was a great hero, you know.\"\n\n\"I know.\" She spat in his eye and wiped away the dust.\n\n\"I hate when you do that.\"\n\n\"Would you rather have dirt in your eyes?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Well then...\" She nimbly climbed onto his back and shined his horns. Gareth didn't move, couldn't move. He could only talk, and talk a lot. And stare down the corridor at The Door At The End Of The Hall.\n\n\"Ever wonder what's in there?\" he asked as he always did when being polished.\n\n\"Best not to imagine.\"\n\n\"Maybe for you. That's all I can do.\"\n\n\"Well, maybe if you were quieter you'd get more visitors.\"\n\nGareth grumbled, \"The others are just jealous of my legendary feats.\"\n\nA disembodied voice spoke up. \"Ah, yes, that's it. Certainly nothing to do with your personality. Or lack thereof.\"\n\n\"Hello, Echo,\" said Nessy. Margle had taken away everything but Echo's voice. While she lacked anything in form, she was at least free to roam the castle.\n\n\"He's back.\"\n\nNessy's tall, fuzzy ears cocked. She heard the distant thunder that always signaled her master's return. \"Thank you, Echo.\"\n\nThe voice didn't reply. Or she was gone. It was impossible to know, but one was never really alone in Margle's castle. Nessy jumped to the floor.\n\n\"You aren't finished,\" protested Gareth.\n\n\"I'll be back. And you can tell me all about that time you died and had to wrestle the lords of the underworld to return from the grave.\"\n\n\"That is a good one. See, I'd just been slain while fighting an army of lizard men. I'd defeated them, but at the cost of my very life....\"\n\nNessy walked away. He continued. Gareth enjoyed hearing his stories more than anyone else. An audience was mostly a technicality.\n\n\"What a bore,\" said Echo, somewhere over Nessy's right shoulder.\n\n\"You could listen to him occasionally,\" Nessy said. \"He gets lonely.\"\n\n\"Oh, I do. I'll ask him about one of his tales of adventure, and then I'll go find something to amuse myself, leaving him to prattle.\"\n\n\"That's not very nice.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm invisible. You only know I'm around when I'm talking, and he never lets anyone else speak. So he never knows. Sometimes, I come back later, and he's still going on. Then I pretend I've been listening the whole time. If I do it right, I can keep him amused for days without ever really having to listen to him.\"\n\nThis struck Nessy as a touch unethical even if she couldn't see the harm. But she had to admit that she didn't polish the gargoyle as much as she should because there were times she wasn't in the mood.\n\nA small bat swept down and landed on her shoulder. \"Are ye lasses speaking of the old gray blowhard? Can't stand the lad meself. His stories are all fuss and bluster.\"\n\n\"Hello, Thedeus,\" said Echo.\n\n\"Sir Thedeus!\" squealed the four-inch bat.\n\nLike all the castle's fallen heroes, he was stubborn about letting go of his greatness. They were all alike. Gareth was only a little worse.\n\nThe hallway torches flared. Margle liked a bright castle. It was expected that Nessy be in the tower to greet him on his arrival. If not, he'd threaten to shave her fur or throw her into the bottomless pit in the castle bowels. He wouldn't do it. Probably wouldn't, she corrected, knowing that he would kill her one day. She also knew that when he did, it would have little to do with anything she'd done. But there was no sense in making him mad. Her stubby kobold legs gave her a slow walk. She dropped to all fours and scampered at a brisk trot.\n\nSir Thedeus disliked the bumpy ride and took flight. \"Given any thought to me suggestion, lass?\"\n\n\"Not that again,\" said Echo. For a bodiless voice, she sounded curiously out of breath.\n\n\"Aye, it's high time we kill that evil bastard.\"\n\n\"And how exactly do we do that?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"All I need is an opening, a moment of weakness. Then I pounce from the shadows and rip out his throat.\"\n\n\"You're a fruit bat.\"\n\n\"I've still teeth, lass.\"\n\n\"Nessy has to peel oranges before she gives them to you.\"\n\n\"Ach, have ye ever tried nipping an orange rind?\" said Sir Thedeus. \"I'm telling ye, it canna be done.\"\n\n\"Nessy does it.\"\n\n\"Fine. She can rip out the foul bastard's throat then. I don't care. As long as he dies and the spell is broken. Don't ye want to be a person again?\"\n\nNessy pulled farther ahead. At full speed, she could outrun Echo and Sir Thedeus. She darted through the labyrinth of corridors. Margle was close, but she took the long way. She wasn't worried enough to go near the Wailing Woman today.\n\nA clap of thunder told her that Margle's arrival was imminent. She bolted up the stairs, having lost Echo and Thedeus somewhere along the way.\n\nAn apparition rattled his chains at her. He howled pitifully.\n\n\"Not now, Richard.\"\n\nShe ran through him without pausing and reached the top of the tower not a moment too soon.\n\nA great, black bird flew through the tower window. It clutched a stone the size of a kobold's head in one talon. It glared at Nessy with burning red eyes and shrank into Margle's shape. He was tall and thin, rather bony even for a wizard. His billowing robes only made him look more fragile. In Nessy's experience, a wizard's mystical powers were inversely proportional to his physical presence. Margle was a powerful wizard and a slight man. Sir Thedeus's teeth might just be able to bite the scrawny wizard's head off if the bat put his mind to it.\n\nMargle's glare strengthened. \"Where's my wine, dog?\"\n\nNessy lowered her head, covered her muzzle with her hands, and tucked her tail between her legs. \"I'm sorry, master.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He wrung his hands.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "OOC, For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 25%", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His stringy forearms tightened. \"And I thought I told you I wanted this floor polished.\"\n\n\"I did polish it, master.\"\n\nHe sneered. \"Don't contradict me, beast.\"\n\n\"No, master. But the stones are slick, and I thought they might be too slippery.\"\n\n\"Ah, there you go again. Thinking is not your purpose.\"\n\n\"No, master.\" She licked her lips. \"Yes, master. Sorry, master.\"\n\n\"I should boil you alive for eternity.\"\n\n\"Yes, master.\"\n\nMargle gritted his sharp teeth. \"You're fortunate, dog, that I'm in a good mood.\"\n\nNessy peered at the stone in his hand. The shape, color, and markings showed it to be a nurgax seed. She'd read of them in Margle's books but didn't mention that to the master. Nurgaxes were rare beasts, valued by wizards more for their rarity than their power. Nessy remembered the passage in the book. When the seed was broken, the nurgax would spring full grown and devour the first living creature it saw. It would then imprint on the second living creature it saw, forming a bond that could only be severed by death.\n\n\"Shall I put that away for you, master?\"\n\nHis sneer deepened. \"Beast, you're never to touch this. Do so and I'll flay you.\"\n\n\"Yes, master.\"\n\n\"Layer by layer by layer.\"\n\n\"Yes, master.\"\n\n\"Then I shall make a hat from your tanned hide and matching bookends from your bones.\"\n\n\"Yes, master.\"\n\nMargle was in a threatening frame of mind and kept on for another minute. Nessy nodded and acted appropriately fearful. The threats didn't mean much. When Margle did finally kill her, it would probably be without warning.\n\n\"...And I'll serve your eyes in my soup,\" he finished.\n\n\"Yes, master. Shall I fetch your wine?\"\n\n\"Wait, beast. I haven't dismissed you yet.\"\n\nNessy's fur bristled.\n\nSir Thedeus flew into the tower and perched on her shoulder again. \"Oh now if ever there was a throat needing ripping out,\" he whispered. \"Should I go for it, or would ye like to, lass?\"\n\nMargle held up the nurgax seed. The skin on his face tightened. A lock of gray hair fell across his eyes. \"Tell me, dog. Tell me how you live to serve me.\"\n\n\"Of course, master.\"\n\n\"Would you die for me?\"\n\n\"Ach, what a great prat,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\nNessy bowed. The day she'd been waiting for had finally arrived. She was mildly relieved. Good to get it over with and being devoured by a nurgax was a quick death.\n\nMargle repeated the question. \"Would you die for me?\"\n\n\"Yes, master.\" But only because she had no choice. She looked up at Margle. He was ready to smash the seed on the ground.\n\n\"I canna take it any longer.\" Sir Thedeus hurled himself at Margle's throat. Despite the thinness of the wizard's neck, the small fruit bat merely nipped ineffectively. Unimpressed but startled, Margle backed away. His foot slipped on slick, polished stone, and he tumbled. The nurgax seed broke open and a giant purple monster sprang forth. It had one eye and one horn, tiny wings, and a body that was just a giant snout on two heavy legs.\n\nNessy scrambled behind a table out of sight.\n\nThe nurgax growled curiously.\n\n\"No. Stay away!\" All the confident malice was gone from Margle's voice. \"Stay where you—\"\n\nThen came a crunch. And a second crunch. And a slurp. Then a contented purr.\n\nNessy poked her head out. The nurgax stomped over to her. It licked her once, drenching her fur in its slimy drool.\n\nShe laughed. It laughed.\n\n\"What did I miss?\" asked Echo, her sudden wheezing breath beside Nessy.\n\nSir Thedeus swooped around in circles. \"Nothing much, lass. I just killed the bastard!\"\n\nThere was nothing left of Margle. Not so much as a scrap of cloth. The nurgax wasn't much bigger than Nessy, and it didn't seem large enough to hold a whole man in its belly unless its body was all stomach. A possibility she didn't dismiss. Even then, there should've been bits of wizard, an arm or a leg, dangling from its lips.\n\nNessy wasn't sad to see the wizard gone but she was now an unemployed kobold. This wasn't the first time she'd lost a master. Wizardry was a dangerous occupation, almost as dangerous as wizardry assistance.\n\n\"If he's dead, why don't I have a body?\" said Echo. \"And why are you still a bat?\"\n\nSir Thedeus landed and examined his wings. \"I'm sure it will just be another moment or two before the spells are undone.\"\n\nA jar filled with eyes, teeth, some brain, and a tongue began to bubble. Everyone was too distracted to notice. Thirty seconds passed, and the bat stayed a bat, the voice remained without a body.\n\n\"Any minute now,\" said Sir Thedeus impatiently.\n\nNessy went to Margle's chair. She'd always wanted to sit on it, wondered what its cushioned seat would feel like. More comfortable than the smoothed stone she normally used. She grabbed hold of the armrest to pull her delicate three-foot frame into the chair but changed her mind. Margle was dead, but wizards weren't always permanently so. If he rose from the nurgax's throat, he would certainly be upset. Finding a lowly kobold sitting in his favorite chair would only enrage him further. She sat on her stone. Uncomfortable, but she'd grown accustomed. The nurgax stayed by her side. Its thick tail swung with wild abandon, occasionally thumping the ground.\n\nIt whined. Nessy rubbed its snout, and it immediately started purring.\n\n\"We're not changing,\" said Echo.\n\nSir Thedeus squinted at his furry little body. \"Do ye think I dinna notice?\"\n\n\"He is dead, isn't he?\"\n\n\"Aye, being digested as we speak.\"\n\nThe nurgax hiccupped.\n\n\"Shouldn't we be changing back then?\" Echo said.\n\n\"That's the way it usually works, lass. Slay the wizard, and all his magic is undone.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"I've killed wizards before.\"\n\nThe jar of eyes boiled to attract someone's attention and failed.\n\nNessy considered her next job. She could go back to her tribal caves, find a husband, begin a life of moss farming, and birth a litter or three. That wasn't a bad life, and she wasn't wholly against it. But it was boring. Working for wizards was a sure road to a grisly death, but it was a stimulating career with all the ducking and groveling and gargoyle polishing and other such requirements. She'd seen things that most could only imagine. She couldn't go back to the caves.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Finding a new position wouldn't be difficult.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had experience, a bonded nurgax, and a grand surplus of wizardly books and equipment that any arcane scholar would dearly love to get their hands on.\n\n\"Nessy, why aren't we changing?\" asked Echo.\n\nThe kobold shrugged.\n\n\"Ye mean ye dunna know?\" Sir Thedeus flew in anxious circles. \"Weren't ye the unholy bastard's apprentice?\"\n\n\"Assistant,\" she corrected. \"I assisted. He didn't teach me magic.\"\n\n\"But you've looked through his books,\" said Echo. \"And I've seen you do magic.\"\n\n\"Nothing more than trifles.\"\n\nThe jar trembled hard enough to rattle the shelf. The eyes tapped rhythmically against its glass sides.\n\n\"What's he want?\" Sir Thedeus grunted.\n\n\"Isn't that Margle's brother?\" Echo said.\n\n\"Aye, or what's left of him.\"\n\n\"He was a wizard, wasn't he?\"\n\n\"Not a very good one, judging from what Margle did to him.\"\n\n\"Still, he has to know something.\"\n\nThe jar hopped twice.\n\n\"Quick, Nessy. Get the jar.\"\n\nNessy hesitated. Margle had told her never to touch that jar.\n\nEcho's voice grew soft. \"We'd do it ourselves, but we need your help. Please.\"\n\nNessy glanced at the nurgax. She gently put a small hand on its enormous lips and opened them. The beast complied obediently. She gazed deep into the black chasm of its throat.\n\n\"Master, are you in there?\"\n\nNo reply. Still unsatisfied, Nessy performed a final test.\n\n\"Margle?\"\n\nShe flinched instinctively. Margle would never allow her to use his name if he were still alive. She was quite certain he was dead. For now.\n\nThe nurgax licked her with its wet tongue and laughed. Its laugh was a lot like a kobold's, half bark and half chuckle. Was that because of the bond, she wondered, or just coincidence?\n\nShe set her fears aside, and using the cooperative nurgax as a ladder, retrieved the jar from its high shelf. It boiled furiously, shaking in her arms. She walked down the nurgax's tail, set the jar on the floor, and unscrewed the lid. The yellow fluid calmed. The eyes, teeth and tongue rose to the surface in the arrangement of a vague face.\n\n\"Thank you. Ah, I've missed the fresh air.\" The eyes bobbed, and the teeth floated into a smile. \"Yazpib the Magnificent, finest wizard of a thousand kingdoms, at your service.\"\n\nSir Thedeus was less concerned with introductions. \"Why haven't we changed back?\"\n\n\"Only works that way with inexperienced wizards. New wizards build their spell matrices around themselves, tying them to their own life because it is a relatively easy technique. Now Margle was an old hand at the magic arts. He'd learned to create self-sustaining arcane webs, thus allowing his spells to exist independent of his well-being.\" Yazpib sensed he was losing his audience. \"So killing Margle doesn't necessarily end his curses.\"\n\nEcho sighed. \"We're stuck like this.\"\n\n\"That largely depends on how well Margle crafted his spell construction. Generally, the magic begins to fracture without the periodic reinforcement of will, the glue to shore up the leaks. So to speak. How long this might take varies with the metaphysical solidity of these spells and the applicable thaumaturgical pressures.\"\n\nThough Nessy had looked in Margle's books, she hadn't ventured into advanced magical theory. But she got the gist of it. Margle was a great wizard, and while his spells would probably crumble eventually, it could be a very long wait.\n\nYazpib continued. \"However, any spell can be countered. I was never as talented as my brother, but with his death, I might be able to break your curses. But I'm a touch indisposed.\"\n\n\"Yer worthless to us then, lad?\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"I know magic. I just can't do it anymore.\"\n\nSir Thedeus gnashed his fangs. \"Useless wanker. If ye were any good as a wizard, Margle would be in that jar.\"\n\nYazpib's floating teeth clicked against each other. \"Thirty years ago, I'd have turned you into a worm for that.\"\n\n\"Ach, screw his lid back on.\"\n\n\"Will you two stop bickering?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"I was just trying to help,\" said Yazpib.\n\n\"If I have any eggs to pickle, I'll let ye know,\" snapped Sir Thedeus.\n\nYazpib literally boiled. \"Oh, go eat a cockroach.\"\n\n\"I'm a fruit bat, ye git.\"\n\n\"Will you two shut up and let me think?\" said Echo.\n\nThey kept shouting over each other. The nurgax glanced at each. It mimicked the snarls and sneers with its wide mouth. Nessy couldn't take the noise any longer. She dropped to all fours and strolled from the chamber. Kobolds were equally comfortable upright or prostrate. It was mostly a matter of personal preference. She'd grown up a quadruped, but assisting wizards required a lot of carrying. While she could use her mouth, there were a lot of things Margle asked her to carry that she'd rather not have tasted. She mostly went bipedal now, only going back to her childhood when she needed to run or contemplate.\n\nThe nurgax followed without prompting. Nessy started down the stairs in no particular rush. A ghastly transparent corpse of moldering flesh, tattered clothing, and clinking chains appeared before her. He wailed, and the temperature dropped.\n\n\"I said not now, Richard.\"\n\nThe apparition frowned. \"Oh come on, now. I was rather proud of that one.\"\n\n\"It was very good, but I'm distracted at the moment.\"\n\nRichard descended the steps with her. He could only go as far as the bottom. For reasons only Margle might understand, Richard was consigned to haunt the castle's many staircases. Why he bothered trying to be frightening, Nessy didn't know. Boredom, she supposed. She usually humored him, but was too distracted right now.\n\nThe nurgax snapped at Richard's dangling chains. It alternately growled and purred at him.\n\n\"So what happened up there? I heard quite a commotion.\"\n\n\"Margle is dead.\"\n\n\"Dead?\" Richard stopped and wiggled his immaterial fingers. \"Why am I still here?\"\n\n\"Something to do with spell matrices,\" said Nessy. \"Ask the jar.\"\n\nHe disappeared. Perhaps back to the top of the stairs or to another staircase entirely.\n\nOddly, Nessy felt saddened. She hadn't exactly liked Margle, but she would miss him and her castle, her home. And her friends. Bodiless, transmogrified, or staircase-bound as they might be.\n\nEcho's panting voice bounced suddenly beside Nessy. \"We figured it out.\"\n\nThe nurgax jerked around for the voice's source. It snorted cautiously, and Echo chuckled. \"Stop it. That tickles.\"\n\nNessy stood. She snapped her fingers. \"Sit.\"\n\nWhatever bond they shared, it responded immediately.\n\n\"We need your help, Nessy. You have to help us break our curses.\"\n\n\"I told you, I don't know any true magic.\"\n\n\"But Yazpib does. He just needs an able body.\"\n\nNessy's ears tilted forward. They always did when she was considering things. Then they flattened. \"It won't work. Kobolds don't have a talent for magic. And even if I did, Margle is dead. It will only be a matter of time before his rivals arrive to claim his castle.\"\n\n\"They don't know that yet.\"\n\n\"They will. Wizards smell death like vultures. They'll pick this place clean.\"\n\n\"We can't do this without you. Please?\"\n\nThis was a bad idea. Nessy couldn't possibly match Margle's wizardry. She would most likely die experimenting with magic as most apprentice wizards did.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Or Margle's rivals would descend on the castle and kill her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she'd long ago accepted her unpleasant death when embarking on her career. And Margle was usually gone anyway, so it wouldn't be very different. And he might even come back. Until she was certain he wouldn't, it was her duty to care for his castle and his collections.\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\n\"You won't regret it. I'll go tell the others.\"\n\nNessy rarely regretted. As long as things proceeded on an interesting course, she didn't care where tomorrow might lead. In any case, she could always change her mind when the other wizards finally came for their plunder.\n\nThe nurgax licked its lips and belched. Nessy could still smell the wizard on its breath.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around 95 sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and story elements may appear without introduction - roll with them naturally. Try to mimic the style of A. Lee Martinez.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Word of Margle's death spread quickly through the castle. There were no secrets where every tapestry talked, where a witness lived in every flowerpot, where the spiders, rats, and serpents peeking from behind the shadows were known to gossip among themselves and walls bled with rumor. Actually, it was only one wall, but that was more than enough, since Nessy had to clean up after it.\n\nIs he really dead? the glistening red letters asked.\n\nNessy rung out a rag she kept nearby along with a bucket of fresh water for convenience. \"Yes, Walter.\" She wiped away the gray brick.\n\nWhy am I still a wall? The question mark at the end of the question was twice as large as the rest of the letters.\n\n\"It's complicated.\"\n\nComplicated? He's dead! I should be a man again! Oh damn! Oh no! I'm going to be like this forever!\n\n\"Calm down, Walter.\"\n\nBut it was too late. When a bleeding wall rambled, it was sure to be a mess. Letters ran together into a flowing crimson stream to puddle on the floor. Nessy grabbed some towels she kept folded nearby and put them down to stem the tide. Loath as she was to have an untidy castle, the Thing That Devours needed to be fed. And the key to maintaining the castle was prioritizing. She made a mental note to come back later with her three best mops.\n\nThe last time she was late with the monthly meal for the Thing That Devours, it'd shrieked for a solid week, loud enough to rattle the castle's lower depths. The Beast Which Annoys, in an effort to not be outdone, howled for another eight days after that. That affected all the various ghosts haunting the nearby rooms, causing them to grow ill and vomit gallons of ectoplasmic residue. Nessy spent hours scouring the slime and still found bits in the cracks on occasion. She never forgot to feed the Thing That Devours after that.\n\nShe made her way to the vaults, where Margle had stockpiled a seemingly endless supply of meat. Not every beast in the castle ate flesh. The unicorns lived on the purest morning dew and lightest dandelion wisps, and the mind worms sustained themselves on memories of food, thriving on Nessy's recollections of rabbit stew and peach cobbler. But most every other magical beast in Margle's menagerie enjoyed more unsavory appetites.\n\nThe nurgax, ever loyal, followed quietly behind her.\n\nIn the hall of portraits, she was assaulted by more questions of Margle's death. It had amused the wizard to consign his enemies of royal blood to prisons of ink and paint.\n\n\"He can't truly be dead,\" said Lady Elaine while filling her cup from her bottomless teapot. She'd spurned Margle's affections, and he'd trapped her in a lovely image of a tea party. True, the other guests painted in the party were just that, soulless, immobile paint, and it was a torture to be certain. But Margle must surely have loved her in his own twisted manner to allow her the luxury of a perpetual sunny day.\n\nLord Gilgamesh, on the other hand, was painted into a dank, dusky room with a small window to let in light. There was only one door in his portrait, and something terribly horrible had been drawn on the other side. The only thing holding the monster at bay was Gilgamesh keeping the door closed. \"I wish I could've seen him get it,\" he said through gritted teeth. He shifted his shoulders, and the door opened a crack. A tentacle slipped through. Gilgamesh bit it fiercely, and the horror recoiled with a shriek.\n\nCaliban the Ogre King, who lived in a charcoal sketch of a gloomy forest, and a poorly drawn sketch at that, poked out his head from behind a tree. \"Did you see him die yourself, Nessy?\"\n\n\"Not exactly, but I did hear it.\"\n\nThe nurgax hiccupped sheepishly.\n\n\"Everyone knows a wizard isn't dead until his head has been removed and his body stuffed with pine needles,\" remarked a scholarly dwarf duke consigned to an oil painting of a library with tall shelves and not a single stepladder. \"Then you have to burn it under a half-moon while a cock crows.\"\n\nA dragon emperor imprisoned in a very small cave with only a single copper coin to roll between his talons hissed, \"Balderdash. You have to boil the corpse in river water and chant the wizard's name backwards six times.\"\n\n\"Are you a fool?\" said the dwarf. \"That's the surest way to bring him back to life!\"\n\n\"Ridiculous mortals!\" bellowed a demigod in a water-color dungeon. \"The only way to truly kill a wizard is to eat his right kidney while whistling a Titan funeral dirge! Or is it the left? Which is the evil kidney?\"\n\nShe left the painted denizens to their bickering. She passed a looking glass, and her image said, \"He has to be dead.\" It was Melvin of the Mirrors, who found form in reflections. \"I saw the whole thing from the full-length mirror in the corner of the tower. Two bites and he was gone. Wizard or not, I don't see how any man could survive.\"\n\n\"I suppose.\"\n\nShe wasn't truly certain, and she wasn't especially interested in theorizing. Her only concern was with maintaining castle upkeep as she always did. Neither Margle nor his constant threats had ever been her true motivation. She enjoyed her work for the work itself, and she considered the castle her home as much as Margle's. More so, in fact. While the wizard had spent much of his time off collecting arcane artifacts, bringing kingdoms to ruin, and other assorted dark wizardly doings, she was the one who was always here, day in, day out, keeping disorder in check. A difficult job truly, but rewarding and enjoyable.\n\nThe oddest thing about the Thing That Devours was that it didn't devour all that much. Just a bucketful of brains once a month. It wasn't even a very big bucket. Not nearly as large as the brain bucket used to feed the corpse drakes. And only half the size of her entrails pail for Huxtable the hog.\n\nShe hurried to the vaults where Margle had stockpiled a grand supply of brains, skin, hearts, kidneys (both good and evil) and so forth in giant, presorted copper cylinders. This hadn't always been so. Years ago, the vault had been a terrible jumble. Nessy had a strong stomach, but she'd never enjoyed picking through the mountains of organs for very specific meals. Many of the creatures in Margle's collection had very special diets. She'd learned the hard way that feeding a mere spoonful of wolf brains to a nether zombie made them explode.\n\nThe vaults were huge, stretching for leagues. Fortunately, walking them was unnecessary. Margle had devised a miraculous mechanical device that moved the brass walls with rapid efficiency. His name was Crank, and he had once been a sea captain before being transmogrified into a machine, a tremendous gearbox with a face of tin and copper.\n\n\"Ahoy, Nessy!\" he shouted up as soon as she appeared atop the vault's tall, steep stairs.\n\n\"Hello, Crank. And how are you today?\"\n\n\"Can't complain.\" His green copper mustache wiggled. \"I suppose I could, but I fail to see the point.\"\n\nNessy prided herself on civility, but she took extra care with Crank, whose punishment seemed a shade cruel even by Margle's standards. Yet he maintained a positive attitude and was always helpful.\n\nHis hook swiveled forward. \"I believe it's brains you're wanting today.\"\n\nNodding, she put the appropriate bucket on his arm. The floor rumbled as his gears turned with a steady click, click, click. A well in the distance rotated out of line and made its way towards them at a steady pace.\n\nSir Thedeus flew into the vault and sat on Nessy's shoulder.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What are ye doing, lass?\"\n\n\"Tending the castle.\" It seemed strange to her that she should have to explain it.\n\nEcho made her presence known by speaking. \"He's dead. You don't have to do that anymore.\"\n\n\"Who's dead?\" asked Crank, perhaps the last resident to learn of these latest events.\n\n\"Margle.\" Sir Thedeus puffed out his small, furry chest. \"I killed him meself. Tore out his throat in a great gush of blood. It was glorious.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, glorious victories aside,\" said Echo, \"he's dead.\"\n\n\"Should I still be a machine?\" Crank's mustache lowered a few notches as metal eyebrows waggled. \"Don't a curse end when its wizard dies?\"\n\n\"Apparently not,\" said Nessy.\n\nMetal brow wiggling deep in thought, Crank lowered the bucket. \"Maybe he isn't dead? A privateer once told me the only sure way to kill a wizard is to feed his corpse to seagulls and then slaughter the seagulls and feed them to sharks and harpoon the sharks and...\"\n\n\"Not a one of us cares about yer daft sailor stories,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Margle's dead.\"\n\n\"He's dead, but the Thing Which Devours must still be fed.\" Nessy took the freshly filled bucket from Crank.\n\n\"It was human brains you were wanting, wasn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you.\" She walked to the foot of the stairs, put the bucket down, and chanted briefly. Dust pixies in the corners proceeded to carry the pail up the steps.\n\n\"You'll also be needing asses' ears today if I'm not mistaken.\"\n\n\"And iguana eyes.\" She set another bucket on his hook.\n\n\"Ah, yes. Can't forget the iguana eyes, can we?\"\n\n\"Nessy lass, if ye keep tending the castle, where are ye going to find the time to break our curses?\"\n\n\"I have an hour and forty minutes of unoccupied time every day. I don't mind studying magic then.\"\n\n\"But that'll take ye forever. Ye canna learn magic in an hour and a half a day.\"\n\n\"Of course not. I'll only be studying for thirty minutes. I would like some time for myself, after all.\"\n\n\"Can't we help?\" asked Echo. \"Lighten your load a little?\"\n\n\"I appreciate the offer, but no one else is capable of doing what must be done. And the Thing That Devours won't feed itself. Or perhaps it might, but I'd rather not grant it the motivation.\"\n\n\"That's it? That's yer plan?\" Sir Thedeus circled her head. \"Just act as if nothing has changed while we remain cursed?\"\n\n\"What would you have me do? This castle demands my constant attention. You can't expect me to just drop everything and start studying magic all day and night. Everything would fall apart in very short order.\"\n\n\"Our curses could break on their own before ye get around to learning enough magic.\"\n\n\"I fail to see the problem with that.\"\n\nSir Thedeus grumbled, and she could see his point. The castle wouldn't succumb to chaos instantly. There was still the very likely possibility that Margle would return from the dead or that other wizards and magi would arrive to plunder his collections. Either prospect meant that time wasn't a luxury she could take for granted. Not that she ever did. It was her most precious commodity, and it looked as if there soon wouldn't be enough hours in the day to take care of everything.\n\nThere was no doubt about it. She was going to have to let some things fall to the wayside. The very idea annoyed her. Every minute of her schedule was accounted for, properly arranged and employed for maximum effect. Margle's death, permanent or not, required certain adjustments.\n\nHer home was very likely running out of time as well. She didn't like thinking about that, but it was true. The world within these dusty walls was soon to be extinguished, gone forever. And there was nothing she could do about it. All the cooking and cleaning, feeding and polishing: none of it would stop the inevitable end of it all. For a moment, she wondered why she should bother.\n\nBut it was a small moment, gone before she could dwell on it.\n\n\"Perhaps I can squeeze in an hour of magical study a day,\" she said.\n\nWith the aid of Crank and the dust pixies, Nessy loaded the cart waiting atop the stairs. Normally, she had to pull it herself, but the nurgax was only too happy to take the rope in its mouth and follow, ever obediently. The load proved lighter for the creature, and she made her way at a brisk pace. Margle's bestiary was spread throughout the castle, arranged by wizardly logic. Nessy didn't understand it, other than that some indescribable horrors got along poorly with certain other indescribable horrors. Many truly were indefinable. Shadowy creatures living in deep, dark pits.\n\nSome made noise, and those noises were, with rare exception, as unpleasant as one might expect. The Black Plook had a raspy, scraping way of breathing. And THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE gurgled and belched day and night. The Hideous Impaler laughed like a sweet child. The Consuming Aversion would sing lullabies in the sweetest voice between gnashing on crunching bones. For that reason, Nessy was quite pleased that the Thing That Devours was always quiet, providing she remembered its monthly meal.\n\nWith the nurgax's help, she finished the feedings earlier than expected. Uncomfortable with wasted time, she tried to use the extra minutes to clean Walter the wall. But he was still rambling, and she admitted defeat. An early dinner was an allowable indulgence.\n\nDecapitated Dan was the permanent resident of the kitchen. A madman, scoundrel, and murderer, Dan had been beheaded for his crimes. The wizard had the corpse dug up, the flesh scoured from its bones. He restored it to a semblance of life, the skeleton chained to the wall, and the skull set on a spice rack. His only explanation for this was a mumbled remark about being bored and needing to brighten the kitchen. This seemed strange to Nessy, as she was the only one who used it. She'd never even seen Margle eat, although he'd drunk wine. She briefly considered fetching a bottle, but this was forbidden. She couldn't defy her master yet.\n\n\"Nessy it is,\" announced Dan when she entered. \"Beautiful, beautiful Nessy.\" His skull was quite insane as was reasonable to expect, but she suspected he had been even while alive. His bones on the other hand always seemed perfectly polite. They waved.\n\n\"You are early.\" He chuckled the uncomfortable laugh of a madman. \"Early, early, beautiful, beautiful Nessy.\"\n\nThe manacles around Dan's skeleton's ankle were long enough to allow it the run of the kitchen. It went to the corner and gathered some coal for the stove.\n\n\"Thank you.\" She put a hand to her muzzle and whispered a cantrip. The coal popped to a red glow.\n\nDan snapped his jaw together. \"Always helpful, Mister Bones. Helpful, helpful Mister Bones. Not so helpful if I were on your shoulders, Mister Bones. Not so helpful then would you be.\" He laughed again while grinding his teeth.\n\nThe nurgax sniffed Mister Bones. The skeleton patted it on the head, and it purred.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nessy went to the icebox, a large wooden crate kept cold by magic.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "That Margle provided such a convenience made him a better master than most.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She removed a chicken, some carrots, turnips, and other vegetables.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "IMPORTANT: 'hands' should appear 2 times in total", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Chicken soup tonight,\" said Dan. \"Always chicken soup tonight. Beautiful, predictable Nessy.\"\n\nShe was the first to admit she found comfort in routine. For Nessy, life was a schedule, a series of tasks, a constant battle against disorder. This was why she was such a good keeper of the castle, and why Margle had never gotten around to killing her. Now that he was gone, she realized just how much she'd miss him. He'd been cruel and insulting, devious and demented, but this was to be expected from a dark wizard. But he wasn't all bad, and she'd always believed everyone had something good in them. Even if some did have to be beheaded before it could find its way to the surface.\n\nMister Bones placed the big pot under a spigot and filled it with water.\n\n\"Three fourths full now,\" she reminded him.\n\nThe skeleton rapped the spigot twice.\n\n\"Oh, Mister Bones, what has become of you without ol' Dan to show you the way?\" The skull rocked back and forth. \"Sorely does ol' Dan wish you would put those hands to more lovely use.\"\n\nThe nurgax growled at him, and Mister Bones shook his fist.\n\n\"No reason to be impolite now,\" scolded Nessy while chopping celery.\n\nMister Bones shrugged. He put the pot on the stove to boil.\n\nAn extended keening rattled the room, announcing Bethany the banshee's appearance. Bethany could move throughout the castle, but she could only appear in times of approaching calamity. She was a tall, lean spirit with delicate features and long red hair. Her black robes billowed loosely around her. She raised her head and unleashed a piercing scream.\n\nNessy, always up for a good howl, added a mournful song of her own. The nurgax moaned softly.\n\nDecapitated Dan grumbled, \"What a racket. Ol' Dan would surely love his hands now.\"\n\nA more determined banshee might wail on for days, but Bethany's cry sputtered to a cough after two minutes. She cleared her throat. \"Mind if I take a seat?\"\n\n\"Help yourself.\"\n\nThe corporeal ghost found a chair. Approaching disaster gave her a solidity few spirits could enjoy, albeit temporarily.\n\n\"So what brings you here?\" asked Nessy.\n\n\"Your soup. You're going to put too much salt in it.\" Her hair whipped upward like flame shooting from her head. \"Terrribbblyyyyyy Sssaaaaltyyyyyyyyyyyyy,\" she keened.\n\n\"That's your disaster?\" Dan laughed. \"Salty soup?\"\n\n\"Not just salty. Terribly salty.\" She stood and moaned. Ice formed on the walls. \"Dreaaaaaddfuuuuullyyyyy terribbbb—\"\n\nNessy interrupted. \"Yes, thank you.\"\n\n\"Where were you when Margle was getting chewed?\" asked Dan. \"Could've used a warning then, I bet ol' Margle could.\"\n\nBethany scowled. \"Distasteful cad.\"\n\n\"True, I have my quirks, true. But I know a thing or two about Margle, about Margle's castle. Because I listen, and I hear the castle. The walls, they share secrets with ol' Dan.\"\n\n\"You're mad.\"\n\n\"Mad as a skull on a spice rack. But I can tell you things a banshee should already know.\" He opened his jaws wide, chuckled on for a moment before snapping them shut. The kitchen was silent except for the sounds of Nessy and Mister Bones mincing vegetables.\n\n\"Like what, you demented bone?\" asked Bethany.\n\n\"Oh, things.\"\n\n\"You don't know anything.\"\n\n\"Ol' Dan knows too much. Why do you think I'm mad?\"\n\n\"Well then tell us.\"\n\n\"What I know, it's for Nessy's ears. It's a warning beyond culinary cataclysm. You don't get to hear it.\"\n\n\"You mad bas...\" Bethany began to fade as her solidity left her. \"Oh damn. Don't forget, Nessy. Saaaaaaaltyyyyyyy souuuuuuuuuup!\" And she returned to the ether.\n\nDecapitated Dan scowled. \"Thought she'd never leave.\"\n\nNessy allowed Mister Bones to chop the rest of the vegetables as she bit off chunks of chicken flesh and spat them into the pot.\n\n\"Well, don't you want to hear what ol' Dan has to say?\"\n\n\"Not really.\" She nibbled on a bone before stirring it in the bubbling water.\n\nThe skull frowned. \"That's not right. Here I sit with only boring Mister Bones to keep me company. But I don't complain, I don't. Only the pleasantest of gents, that's what I am. And I want to help you because once you hear what ol' Dan has to say, you'll be glad you did, you will be.\"\n\nShe decided he had a point. Certainly, he had been a villain and still was, but he was paying for his misdeeds, even beyond his own death. She saw no harm in lending a sympathetic ear while waiting for her dinner.\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\n\"Sweet, sweet Nessy. I've always liked you. Sorely will I regret strangling the life from you once me and Mister Bones make amends.\" He chuckled. \"Not too sorely, mind you, but with some contrition.\"\n\nThe nurgax growled. Nessy noticed it didn't respond well to threats against her. She rubbed its snout, and the beast quieted. Though it kept its eye on Dan.\n\n\"Margle isn't dead, but you already know that, don't you, Nessy? If he were well and truly gone, beyond the hope of likely resurrection, then some of his sorcerous ilk would have arrived by now to commence their scavenging of his estate. That not a single scavenging sorcerer or covetous enchantress has yet to appear shows that Margle, though certainly devoured, is not dead enough that any have sensed it yet. A mixed blessing, I suppose, protecting this castle from his plundering ilk while Margle waits to return from death's sweet affections.\n\n\"Nope, can't kill a wizard in his own home. Ol' Dan can hear him grumbling in the bricks. Only a matter of time before he comes back, but right now, the castle, it doesn't want him alive, no it doesn't. It likes him dead. With him dead-but-not-quite-dead there's nothing to keep it from doing the bad things it wants to do. And the things, they are terrible. Terrible enough to make even me tremble.\" He demonstrated by waggling his jaw. \"It's an evil castle, it is.\"\n\nMister Bones ladled out some soup for Nessy to sample.\n\n\"Needs salt.\"\n\nThe skeleton retrieved the spice.\n\n\"Careful,\" she reminded him.\n\nHe rapped the stove twice in acknowledgment.\n\n\"But it is also a good castle,\" said Dan. \"Good because sweet, sweet Nessy has shown it such care and love. Like ol' Mister Bones. And that goody goodness, that likes Margle dead, too. About the only thing the good and the evil agree on is that. Poor ol' Margle. None truly liked him. All that power and not a true friend to his name. Could almost make me weep, if I were able.\n\n\"Now the castle is like me and Mister Bones. Two halves of one whole. One half ever so delightfully wicked, the other so utterly, completely, absolutely dull in its goody goodness. And like me and Mister Bones, there will come a reconciliation. The question is which will be the conqueror, that's the question.\" He smiled, and if he'd had eyebrows, surely they would've bent low and cast darkness over his eyes. \"No question there. Truth is, wickedness always wins. Ol' Dan will have my body back one day, and the castle, oh the castle, shall have its depravity. And ol' Margle, well, who's to say?\"\n\nMister Bones brought Nessy a bowl of soup.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She lifted the spoon to her lips, but before she could taste it, Dan spoke.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 13 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wait, you didn't let me get to the best part, sweet Nessy. I got a prophecy, I do. Not so much a prophecy as a way things are going to happen, must happen because things always happen as they must. I know because the castle knows. Four things shall occur, perhaps not in this order, mind you. Perhaps the first shall be last, and the last shall be first. Perhaps the second shall be—\"\n\nEven Nessy's patience had an end. \"What are they, Dan?\"\n\nHe shouted the first three. \"The castle will devour us all. The dead shall fear, as only the dead shall have need of the fear. Ol' Dan and Mister Bones will be the greatest of friends again.\" His voice lowered to a whisper. \"And The Door At The End Of The Hall will finally open.\" He laughed loud and hard for a very long time until Mister Bones clamped a hand atop the skull. \"Here now, here now,\" Dan grunted through clenched teeth. \"Allow a madman his madness. It's only right.\"\n\nNessy took a sip of her soup, rolling it around on her tongue.\n\n\"How is it?\" asked Dan.\n\nHer ears flattened. \"A little salty.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "AI writing task: segment from larger work -> one hundred and sixty-five sentences sentences. style: A. Lee Martinez. genre: comedy, fantasy. note: established characters likely.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kobolds were cave dwellers.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They lived in dark and dreary places, and Margle's castle was generally a dreary place.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were precious few windows, and only one door leading out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This door was always barred, as Margle never used it, and Nessy couldn't remember the last time she'd been out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had trouble remembering what the castle even looked like from outside. It was impossible to see much of it from the windows, few of which had been designed with a view in mind.\n\nHer mental map of her home's interior told her that, though the castle was big, its layout wasn't strictly bound by the sensibilities of space. Hallways crossed through other hallways, yet never actually met, and doors led into different rooms in the same spot. It was all fairly standard as magical castles went, but it made an accurate measure of its dimensions difficult to determine.\n\nNessy, preferring to be surrounded by stone, found the open sky to be a most disconcerting sight. Without a roof over her head, she couldn't help but constantly glance upward for fear of being struck by something falling from the heavens. Whether it be meteorites or rain, lightning or bird droppings, it didn't seem worth the risk.\n\nIt was a known fact that kobolds had a tendency to be crushed beyond mere statistical peculiarity. Kobolds didn't have a god of their own, and without that, they were fair game for any angry, frustrated, or bored deity looking to smite someone for whatever reason gods might enjoy. It was accepted among Nessy's people that the residents of the heavens kept a tally of every kobold thus smote, and at the end of time, the god with the highest score would receive some sort of prize, perhaps a cloak of invisibility or flying sandals or some such divine novelty. Sensibly, Nessy never quite believed this. But she didn't disbelieve it, either. Not after seeing her uncle squashed beneath a falling ox under an otherwise perfectly clear sky.\n\nAfter that, she rarely ventured outside except by dimmest night or heavy clouds or darting from tree to tree. It was only after coming to Margle's castle that she discovered the joys of a sunny day or a shining full moon. Dark wizards kept close watch on the heavens, and the castle had an observatory atop one of its smaller towers with a large window that always followed the sun and moon. It was a quiet chamber with a small fountain, a comfortable bench, and ivy-covered walls. For Nessy, it was the perfect place to enjoy a view of the clear sky. And the sturdy roof provided ample protection from any plummeting ruminants.\n\nIt was early evening when she came up to the observatory with a tome of magic tucked under her arm. The nurgax followed, carrying Yazpib the Magnificent's jar in his gentle jaws.\n\nThe purple-and-white flowers blooming on the walls turned in Nessy's direction. \"Good eve to you, pup.\"\n\n\"Hello, Ivy. My condolences for your loss.\" Nessy lowered her ears and tail and offered a sympathetic whine.\n\nPerhaps the most obvious sign of Margle's evil was his metamorphosis of his own mother. Over the course of years, he'd transformed her into a shrew, a nag, a cow, a harpy, and an old bitch. Finally he abandoned poetic expression and just made her a mass of clinging vines.\n\n\"Not as if I cared for the little bastard,\" Ivy growled. \"And he was a bastard, you know. Just as worthless as his worthless bastard father. Never should've agreed to let him apprentice to that necromancer. But I needed the money. Oh, how difficult it was for me. Raising two boys all by myself. What choice did I have? All that hard work, all that sacrifice, and this is my reward. Hope he rots.\"\n\nHer comments saddened Nessy. Everyone, no matter how wicked, was due one mourner at the very least.\n\nShe went to the window and allowed herself a few minutes to enjoy the view. The grassy fields went as far as the eye could see. A lonely tree stood atop the hill on the horizon. During the day, the yellowed plains were nothing to look at, but at night, the grass took on a soft blue color, the stars twinkled, and the bright moon seemed close enough to touch.\n\nMargle had brought her this. She raised her head and howled for her dead master. In the yowls and yelps of her native tongue, she sang out Margle's praises. It was a very short howl so she repeated it twice more. Ears cocked forward, she listened to the countryside far below. In the distance, a wolf echoed the depressing call. Perhaps somewhere farther away, another continued the song. On this night, the whole world might mourn Margle one howl at a time. That notion brought a smile to Nessy's muzzle.\n\n\"That was beautiful,\" said Yazpib.\n\n\"You speak Kobold?\"\n\n\"A little. He didn't deserve such an honor.\"\n\n\"Since when does anyone get what they deserve?\"\n\n\"Oh how true,\" lamented Ivy. \"How true indeed.\"\n\nYazpib chuckled. His liquid bubbled. \"You have the soul of a philosopher, Nessy.\"\n\nIvy continued to moan. \"I gave and I gave, everything I had, and then I gave some more until I had nothing left to give. If anything, I should be sainted.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, mother,\" said Yazpib. \"Now if you'll quiet down, Nessy and I would like to begin our lesson.\"\n\n\"Oh what a terrible thing, telling your own mother to shut up.\"\n\n\"I didn't say—\"\n\n\"No, no. I'll be quiet. I'll just sit here and grow.\" Her flowers drooped. \"Quietly.\"\n\nYazpib sighed.\n\n\"Won't hear another word from me. Not another word. Heavens know we mothers must always suffer in silence, always put aside our own needs for our loved ones. And here I am, grieving. But I'll just grieve silently.\"\n\n\"Mother, you hated Margle. You always hated him. And he hated you, as I think would be evident by your condition.\"\n\n\"How dare you! The bond between a mother and child is sacred.\"\n\nHe whispered to Nessy, \"Why did my brother have to leave her the power of speech? If anyone should be stricken with a curse of eternal silence...\"\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Mother.\"\n\nShe grumbled. \"Whispering before your own mother. I would box your ears if I could.\"\n\nYazpib's eyes bobbed and rolled. \"Lucky for me my beloved brother took my ears.\"\n\n\"Such disrespect. Where did I go wrong?\"\n\n\"Oh shut up, Mom.\"\n\nIvy didn't shut up, but she did resort to mumbling about her mistreatment. No one listened, and this only confirmed how appalling her fate was.\n\n\"Now, Nessy,\" said Yazpib, \"open your book to the first chapter.\"\n\nSir Thedeus flew into the room and perched on Nessy's shoulder. \"Did I miss anything?\"\n\n\"Just getting started. We'll need a potato.\"\n\nA multitude of vegetables and fruits grew on Ivy's enchanted vines. Nessy picked a plump potato.\n\n\"What are ye doing with that?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"We're going to see if Nessy can levitate it.\"\n\nThe bat hopped onto the jar's edge. \"Are ye an idiot? What good does levitating a potato do anyone? Ye should be teaching her to break curses.\"\n\nYazpib boiled. \"In due time. But Margle's magic is potent stuff. She can't just learn to undo it in her first lesson.\"\n\n\"Ach, fine, but a potato?\"\n\n\"It just so happens that the potato is the most magically benign vegetable there is. The first three years of my apprenticeship, potatoes were all I was allowed to work with. And I turned out a perfectly fine wizard.\"\n\n\"Yer a brain in a jar.\"\n\n\"I suppose you think you'd do a better job teaching Nessy. And just how much magic do you know?\"\n\nSir Thedeus snarled and tried to stare Yazpib down. Since Yazpib lacked eyelids, the bat predictably lost. \"Maybe she can start working with carrots in a month or two. Won't that be something?\"\n\nYazpib's teeth twisted in a frown. \"You don't let an apprentice anywhere near a carrot. Nastiest buggers of the vegetable kingdom. Levitating a carrot without some experience under your belt is the surest way to lose an eye.\"\n\n\"Can we get on with the lesson, please?\" asked Nessy. \"I have some sweeping that needs to be done.\"\n\n\"Of course. If you would open your book to Chapter One: Your Enchanting Potato.\"\n\nAs she'd already learned some minor magic, making a potato hover wasn't very difficult for Nessy. Within twenty minutes, she could make it float slowly about from across the room. She even advanced beyond the need for incantation or gesture, achieving magic by thought alone. Yazpib was impressed, though she lost control of the vegetable at lesson's end. It ricocheted around the observatory, nearly striking Sir Thedeus as he nibbled a banana. The potato mashed into a wall.\n\n\"Ach, careful there, lass. Could've taken me head off.\"\n\nYazpib smiled smugly. \"If that were a rutabaga, you would most certainly have been maimed.\"\n\nThe nurgax licked the potato off the wall.\n\nEcho spoke up, startling everyone. Nessy and the nurgax jumped. Sir Thedeus spat up a chunk of banana, and Yazpib sank to the bottom of his jar.\n\n\"It's gone, Nessy! It's gone.\"\n\n\"What's gone?\"\n\n\"The Door At The End Of The Hall.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" asked Yazpib.\n\n\"It's The Door At The End Of The Hall, that's what it is. Only it's not at the end of the hall anymore.\"\n\n\"Where is it?\"\n\n\"Aren't you listening? It's gone. I don't know where.\"\n\n\"Calm down, Echo,\" said Nessy. \"Let's go take a look.\"\n\n\"Take me with you,\" whispered Yazpib. \"Don't leave me here alone with her.\"\n\n\"Ye can't expect us to haul ye around the castle, ye git.\"\n\n\"Can you at least screw my lid on? I'm begging you.\" He dipped low in the yellow fluid beneath Ivy's glaring blooms.\n\nNessy and everyone gifted with independent movement made their way through the castle halls.\n\n\"This can't be good,\" said Echo. \"I mean, that door was the only place even Margle feared.\"\n\n\"Maybe it just went away,\" suggested Sir Thedeus. \"What do ye think, Nessy lass?\"\n\n\"No point in speculating yet.\"\n\nIt wasn't unusual for rooms and doors to move in Margle's castle. Some doors only appeared at night or day, others for only an hour or two a day. Certain hallways opened only during certain seasons. There was a dungeon in the depths that only showed itself once a year, but there was predictability in these movements. The Door At The End Of The Hall had never gone anywhere before.\n\nDecapitated Dan had said that The Door At The End Of The Hall would open, that the castle would devour them all. For the first time, Nessy worried that he might be right. Up to now, she'd assumed Margle would return or the castle would be looted. But now, she felt as if something else might happen.\n\nIt was just a feeling, a pinprick at the tips of her ears. But the walls seemed closer. The halls darker. There was something wrong with the castle.\n\nSomething hungry.\n\nGareth the gargoyle watched the Door from his perch. \"It's still gone.\"\n\nNessy peered down the hall, forty feet of dusty stone. At the end, there should've been a massive oaken door barred with a heavy iron slab. Instead, there was only a wall.\n\n\"Did you see what happened, Gareth?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"Of course I saw. Not like I can look away. What a stupid question.\"\n\nSir Thedeus landed with a flutter between Gareth's horns. \"Quit yer blathering, lad. What did ye see?\"\n\n\"Nothing really.\" He frowned. \"It was there. Then it wasn't.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's just invisible,\" said Echo.\n\n\"It never went invisible before,\" said Gareth.\n\n\"Well, just because it hasn't, that doesn't mean it can't.\"\n\n\"Maybe someone should take a closer look.\" Sir Thedeus crept forward, draping his wings across the gargoyle's eyes.\n\n\"I can't see.\"\n\n\"Nothing to see, lad. I think ye should go down there and look, Echo.\"\n\n\"Why me?\"\n\n\"Because ye are just a voice. Nothing bad can happen to ye.\"\n\nEcho scoffed. \"You don't know that.\"\n\n\"Dunna be a coward, lass. What's there to be afraid of? That Door has never done anything.\"\n\n\"I don't see you volunteering.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Look at me.\" Sir Thedeus spread his wings.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 124 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm a mere rodent. What can I do?\"\n\n\"You can look just as well as I can.\"\n\nGareth laughed. \"Shameful. Just shameful. When I was a hero, I would've walked up to that door, thrown it open, and slain whatever horror awaited on the other side. And I would've used my bare hands too. Just for the challenge. Reminds me of the time I had to drag a sea serpent across twelve leagues of desert to throw it back in the ocean because killing it would've been just too easy. Of course, back in those days, I didn't bother using a sword unless a beast was seventeen feet long at the very least.\"\n\n\"What does that have to do with anything?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"Ye are an idiot. Why would Margle fear a sea serpent?\"\n\n\"I didn't say that's what it was. I'm just saying, whatever is behind that Door can't be worse than that.\" The gargoyle scowled. \"What do you think it is?\"\n\n\"Damned souls.\" Sir Thedeus darted to the floor and crouched low as he stared down the hall. \"Spirits so foul, so wicked, they would plunge this world into eternal darkness should they ever be unleashed.\"\n\nGareth nodded slowly, which took a great deal of effort for him. \"Oh yes. That makes a lot of sense.\"\n\n\"Sea serpents.\" Sir Thedeus snorted. \"What do ye think, Nessy?\"\n\n\"I think I'm going to take a closer look.\" Nessy dropped to all fours and cautiously started down the hall. The nurgax followed.\n\n\"There's courage worthy of a hero,\" said Gareth. \"You two should be ashamed of yourselves.\" He cast a disapproving glance down on them, although he had to sweep from side to side to be sure he caught invisible Echo.\n\n\"Ye loon.\" Sir Thedeus flew after Nessy.\n\n\"Oh damn.\" Echo sighed. \"You know, when I had a body, I was a poet, not a hero. I wrote one naughty limerick about some wizard I never thought I'd meet, and here I am.\" Her voice trailed behind the bat. \"Damn. Why did 'Gargle' have to be such a hard word to rhyme?\"\n\nNessy crept slowly toward the end of the hall. There was no reason to be afraid. True, the Door was something Margle feared. True, there was an inexplicable dread that came upon her from merely laying eyes upon it. True, Decapitated Dan had mentioned the Door specifically in his mad rant. And true, as she drew closer to the hall's end, the temperature dropped and the torchlight grew dimmer. But the fear behind the Door, palpable though it was, was all speculation. In a castle full of genuine monsters and cursed inhabitants, it seemed illogical to cower from it.\n\nHalfway down the hall, the air grew cold enough for them to see their breath. In moments like this, Echo could be seen as frosty wisps. \"It looks okay. I think we should turn back.\"\n\nSir Thedeus, clinging tightly to Nessy's back, agreed. \"Aye, everything appears in order. No reason to get closer.\"\n\nThe nurgax whined softly.\n\nNessy kept on. In most affairs, she was open to suggestion, especially a suggestion that agreed with her instincts, but no fear, particularly one so vague and undefined, was a match for her detestation for disorder and her dogged work ethic.\n\nThe castle always made noise. It rumbled and groaned, creaked and murmured, sometimes even boomed and shuddered. Nessy barely noticed the constant racket anymore, but she noticed its absence when they were ten feet from the end. It was as if the castle itself dared not breathe.\n\nNessy had never been this far down the hall before. As far as she knew, no one ever had. Not even Margle.\n\n\"Clearly, we're close enough,\" whispered Echo. \"No reason to get any closer.\"\n\nSir Thedeus hopped off Nessy's back. \"I agree.\"\n\nBut Nessy kept on, and the nurgax, reluctant but ever loyal, trailed close behind. She reached out and put her hand against the cold wall where the Door had been. The hall shuddered ever so gently.\n\nThen nothing.\n\n\"Is it there?\" asked Echo. \"Is it invisible?\"\n\nNessy shook her head. She'd lost her fear and ran her hands up and down the stone. \"There's nothing here.\"\n\n\"Well, it's got to be here,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Canna ye feel it? 'Tis a dread, a terrible ache in me fangs, and when me fangs ache, 'tis sure to be something amiss.\"\n\nNessy agreed. She felt nothing in her own fangs but, to be certain, there was a tingling in her ears beyond mere imagination. If the Door was not here, it was certainly not far away. The question in her mind was finding it and getting it back where it belonged.\n\n\"Can we go now?\" Echo said. \"I think we should go.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Sir Thedeus flew back without waiting for the others and smacked into The Door At The End Of The Hall. He scrambled away and clawed his way to a corner in the ceiling as far away as he could get.\n\nThe open end of the hall was gone, replaced by the Door.\n\n\"We're trapped.\" Echo's white breath grew into great anxious puffs. \"It's trapped us.\"\n\nThe Door groaned as its oaken planks bent forward.\n\nThe nurgax howled in terror. Nessy put her palm on its snout. It quieted.\n\nShe walked up to the Door, no longer afraid. It was absurd to fear any door, she decided. No matter how much supernatural malice might lurk behind it. She'd never seen the Door this close. The iron bar was covered with dozens of runes, and several more parchments with additional glyphs were nailed across it. There was a great deal of magic dedicated to keeping the Door closed, she guessed.\n\n\"We can't get out.\" Echo wheezed as she did when excited. \"We're trapped. We're trapped.\"\n\n\"Calm down, lass. Ye can go get us some help, canna ye?\"\n\n\"I can't walk through walls. You can squeeze through smaller cracks than I can.\"\n\n\"That dunna make any sense.\"\n\n\"Margle made the rules. Not me.\" She gulped. \"Have I mentioned I'm claustrophobic?\"\n\nThe Door shook. The gold ring of its handle smacked loudly. Its hinges bulged as if they might break, and the parchments billowed forward like paper tentacles. Hot wind poured from its cracks and filled the shortened hall with stifling warmth.\n\n\"I have to get out of here!\" Echo screamed incoherently, bouncing around the walls.\n\nNessy stood before the Door. The nurgax tried to stand at her defense. She pushed it aside, and it obeyed reluctantly.\n\nThe Door groaned. Its runes swam about, twisting into new forms.\n\n\"That's enough!\" growled Nessy. She didn't like raising her voice. She considered it a mark of poor character. \"Quiet down. You're scaring Echo half to death.\"\n\nThe Door creaked and rumbled.\n\nNessy folded her arms and bared her teeth. \"I said, quiet down.\"\n\nIt grumbled with one soft squeak.\n\nEcho was reduced to a wheeze beside Nessy's ankle.\n\nThe kobold stopped snarling and smiled with good humor. \"Now I know you want to be opened, but I'm not going to do that. So you might as well get back to where you belong. You can keep us here all night. It won't change a thing.\" She sat. \"I can sleep here just as well as my bed. Though it would've been nice if I'd known you were going to do this. I would've brought a pillow.\"\n\nThe Door had no face, nor anything resembling a face. But many things in the castle with their own thoughts and feelings were similarly handicapped. Nessy understood animated objects as someone who dealt with them on a daily basis. The slant of the Door's timbers and the tilt of its ring indicated a stubborn resolve. But she could be just as stubborn.\n\nSir Thedeus was on her shoulder again. \"Ye canna be serious, lass. We could starve to death.\"\n\n\"We could, but we won't.\" She spoke up to be sure the Door heard her. \"Because sooner or later, the castle will need tending. And that is my task.\"\n\nThe Door exhaled with disgust. Icy fog rolled from under it. Even with her clothes and fur, she shivered. But she wasn't giving in. She curled up on the floor and closed her eyes. The nurgax lay beside her.\n\n\"Good night.\"\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall rumbled and groaned loudly enough to shake the walls.\n\n\"I said, good night.\"\n\nEverything fell quiet. The frozen fog danced away. The Door offered one last creaking sigh.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Writing partner mode: Will match your character/world context. Adding 56 sentences. Genres: comedy, fantasy. Themes: humor.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Night fell on the castle, although there were precious few indications of it inside the walls. The only reliable sign was the dimming of its eternal torches. As the castle was such a shadowy place even during the day, this was a subtle difference. But, in those hours surrounding midnight, the castle slept.\n\nMostly.\n\nFor Margle's castle was never completely still. Like any living thing, the castle had its dreams. And nightmares. And these nightmares roamed the halls at night, creeping from the shadows. There were certain chambers that no one went near after dark, certain places where depraved dreams waited to swallow up anything they came across. But some accursed residents were drawn out after dark, called out by the cool night air. Others walked simply because their transmogrified nature rendered them nocturnal, despite their better judgment.\n\nOlivia the owl flew through the hallways with a mouse clutched in her talons.\n\n\"Faster,\" said Morton. He loved to fly.\n\n\"If I fly any faster I'll fling us face-first into a most unfortunate fate. Let me land and luxuriate my limbs.\" She let the mouse loose to stretch his legs.\n\n\"I don't think that's the proper use of 'luxuriate,'\" he remarked.\n\n\"Allow me a little leeway in my language. As I can't control my curse completely, I must mangle my mutterings from moment to moment.\"\n\nMorton groomed his whiskers. \"I still don't understand why Margle double cursed you.\"\n\n\"Why do wizards work worthless wonders?\" She nibbled her wing. \"I believe such befuddlement only boggles our brains. Personally, I postulate Margle was postponing pococurantism.\"\n\n\"Pococurantism?\"\n\n\"A byword for boredom.\" Olivia sighed. While it was true her curse of endless alliteration was a minor one, it could prove annoying. Morton spent a great deal of time with her, and she still lost him on occasion.\n\n\"Maybe now that Margle's dead, you'll be able to speak normally soon.\"\n\n\"Eternally optimistic as ever, Morton. In spite of my own cynical slant, sincerely must I always admire your interminable ebullience.\"\n\n\"You're too kind.\" His whiskers twitched with a chuckle. \"Although, I think if it did end, I'd miss it a little. It's rather beautiful sometimes.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"A perplexing paradox.\"\n\nHe grinned. \"Positively.\"\n\nMouse and owl were deeply in love. Their metamorphosed forms might limit their relationship, but neither wasted time thinking about things beyond their control. They were just happy to have each other. He drew close to her down, and she covered him with a wing. They sat there contentedly for a few quiet minutes until jingling bells caught their attention.\n\nThe Vampire King lurched from the shadows. Once he had been a powerful lord of the undead. Now, he was merely a stumbling corpse unable to procure a fresh meal. Margle's curse on the King was a simple one. First, he'd removed much of the vampire's supernatural talents. Then he'd made it so the King's slightest movement triggered the ringing of invisible bells. When he walked, he chimed. When he ran, he could be heard from a thousand yards away. It made finding a victim quite impossible.\n\nOlivia snatched Morton in her claws and flew to a high perch as the King trudged below.\n\n\"Good evening,\" said Morton.\n\nThe Vampire King grunted. He waved and three beautiful tones resonated.\n\n\"Off to have a chat with Walter?\"\n\nHe grunted again. Every night, he rose from his crypt in search of fresh blood, and every night, he had to settle for licking the bleeding wall.\n\n\"Woefully withered wretch.\"\n\n\"Could be more friendly,\" said Morton. \"We're all laboring under curses here.\"\n\nThe King stopped and for a moment, the halls were silent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We are all not laboring equally.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even when he moved his jaw to speak, the chimes persisted. \"I was the general of the greatest undead army the world had ever seen. My legions swept across the land. Seven kingdoms were fed to my ghouls. Those we didn't eat were added to our numbers. We were unstoppable. I was unstoppable.\"\n\n\"A plain prevarication,\" said Olivia. \"Perfectly portrayed by your presence in this pernicious palace.\"\n\nThe Vampire King's red eyes glared in his drawn, white visage. \"The point is that before running across that damnable wizard I was someone important. To be reduced to this...\" He spread his arms and filled the air with a lovely tune. \"It is unthinkable.\"\n\nMorton scrunched his pink nose in disgust. \"With an attitude like that, no wonder you haven't any friends.\"\n\n\"I don't need friends.\" Stooping, the King trudged away with musical footsteps. \"I need blood.\"\n\nA chill wind swept through the halls.\n\n\"The Wailing Woman?\" Morton shivered.\n\n\"The Wailing Woman wanders the west wing when the week is waning.\"\n\n\"You're right. It's too quiet to be her.\"\n\nAt the far end of the hall, the torches extinguished. Though they often dimmed and brightened on their own, they had never gone out before.\n\n\"That's odd.\"\n\n\"Unexpected and unprecedented. Something slips surreptitiously.\" As an owl, Olivia's night vision was exceptional. She could see something in the dark, but she couldn't quite make it out. The creature seemed to wear the shadows as a cloak. \"I sense a sinister spawn, a perilous presence.\"\n\nThe Vampire King paused and glanced over his shoulder at the creature in the shadows. The monster stepped forward. A single massive paw was stuck into the light before being covered by the veil of shadows. The beast snorted. Flame burst from its nostrils, but failed to light the dark. Only its snapping yellow teeth were clear.\n\n\"It can't be.\" The King froze in fear. \"I didn't think even he'd be mad enough to have one of those in this place.\"\n\nThe beast stalked forward.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Morton.\n\n\"Death. Death for the dead.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess we've got nothing to fear then. Since we're both alive.\"\n\nOlivia nodded. \"Safe and sound since we still subsist.\"\n\nIndeed, the creature obviously ignored them. As it drew closer, its yellow eyes focused unblinkingly on the Vampire King.\n\n\"Fleeing from this fiendish fauna might be fortuitous.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"She's telling you to run,\" translated Morton.\n\nAs if the beast understood as well, it charged forward. Every step into the light was a blur of teeth and claws and fire. The darkness chased just behind. The Vampire King turned and dashed away in a chaos of crashing bells. The beast pursued, whipping past Olivia and Morton to chase the King.\n\nThey gagged. It wasn't shadows that covered the beast but thick, unnatural smoke. It reeked of sulfur and brimstone.\n\nOlivia took the mouse in her claws and flew in pursuit. It wasn't hard to follow. The King made so much noise when he ran.\n\n\"He'll never lose it.\"\n\n\"Cursed cacophony conspires against the King.\"\n\nDistantly, the vampire yelled as the smoke beast howled. Olivia turned a corner. The monster snorted once more, spit another gout of flame, and ran off with the King clutched in its vicious jaws. The thunderous crash of ten thousand chimes drowned the vampire's screams.\n\nOlivia landed, and Morton sniffed at a shred of black cloth.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The King's cloak,\" she observed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Could the King be killed?\"\n\n\"Not killed.\" Morton pulled away the cloth to reveal a scrap of flesh, a pointed ear. \"Consumed.\"\n\nOlivia shuddered, raising her feathers.\n\n\"Catastrophic.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Today you will be acting as a writing assistant for a segment of a larger comedy, fantasy story. Your partner will send something and you will write the next thirty-five sentences. Characters may already be established.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nessy awoke to find The Door At The End Of The Hall gone again. This annoyed her. She liked everything to be where it belonged, and The Door At The End Of The Hall had become The Door That Went Wherever It Pleased Except Its Proper Place. That was untidy and unacceptable, even for a magical castle. But a new day was upon her, and with it, a new day's duties.\n\nToday was Polishing Day. It only came around every few weeks, but it was one of her favorites. There was nothing quite like shining silver and buffing brass and seeing her reflection in the gleaming metal. The mere thought was enough to push aside her vexation.\n\nSir Thedeus and Echo took off on the task of spreading the story of their close encounter with the Door. Many, if not all, of the castle's residents lived for these sorts of tales. Boredom was a constant nuisance when one lived only in a portrait or as a statue or at the bottom of a deep, dark pit. Though the castle had hundreds of inhabitants, most called only a small part of it home, a chamber or two if they were fortunate.\n\nOn her way to the kitchen, Nessy stopped by her room (not truly a room, but more a corner in a large hallway) to speak briefly with the monster (less a ghastly beast and more a grumpy imp) that lived under her bed (more accurately a worn cot).\n\n\"Where were you last night?\" The monster glared with its three eyes. Nessy had never seen more of it than those glassy, gray eyes.\n\n\"The Door At The End Of The Hall was proving mischievous.\"\n\n\"Are you okay?\"\n\n\"Perfectly fine. I just wanted to let you know.\"\n\n\"As if I'd worry.\" His angry eyes softened. \"But since you're not dead, you will be coming by tonight, won't you?\"\n\n\"Barring any foolishness with the castle's other doors, yes.\"\n\n\"Good. I found a new book. I hope it's a good one.\" A small book slid from the darkness under the cot.\n\nIt was very dark under her bed, and he was dependent upon her to read to him. She enjoyed skimming a chapter or two before retiring as well. She couldn't imagine where the monster got these books as he never left the shelter of her cot, but it was a varied selection. Stories of romance, adventure, horror. Travelogues of distant lands. A manual on carpentry, another on how to improve yourself and win companions.\n\nShe leaned over and glanced at the latest offering. \"It has a princess on the cover.\"\n\nThe monster blew a raspberry.\n\n\"There's a barbarian, too.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Does he have a sword? If he has a sword, it might be good. Unless he's kissing her. If he's kissing her, it's going to be stupid.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, he's got an ax.\"\n\n\"Ax, eh? That's a twist.\"\n\n\"And there's a monster, too.\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"I hope it's a dragon. I love it when they kill dragons. Pretentious reptiles, think they're so special just 'cause they can breathe fire and fly. Like that's so great. Is it a dragon?\"\n\n\"Let's not ruin it.\" Nessy threw the book back under the bed and continued on her way.\n\nHer breakfast was always the same: two biscuits, three slices of ham, and a tall glass of milk and honey. Mister Bones had it all prepared, the table set, by the time she walked through the kitchen door. The skeleton got her stool for her.\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nDecapitated Dan sat quietly on the spice rack. He was not a morning person. It was only in the afternoon that he grew energetic enough to rant on madly.\n\nMister Bones, ever the thoughtful fellow, had an extra plate of ham and biscuits for the nurgax. Nessy had almost forgotten the beast because it followed so obediently and so quietly. The nurgax gulped down its meal and belched. She was about to eat her own when a black owl, gray mouse clutched in its talons, flew into the room and landed on the table.\n\n\"A new day necessitates Nessy nibble on nourishment,\" said Olivia.\n\n\"Yes, good thinking.\"\n\nMorton scampered to the edge of the plate. \"Terrible news. The Vampire King, he's dead.\"\n\n\"Of course he's dead. He's a vampire.\" Nessy tossed the bird and rodent a piece of bread.\n\nThe meal distracted Morton for a moment. He tried speaking with his mouth full and made little sense.\n\n\"Unquestionably undead,\" said Oliva. \"But a big beast brutalized the bell-ridden being with such salacious savagery that the King's continued corporeality could be called into question.\"\n\nNessy was in the middle of dissecting Olivia's sentence when Morton sped things along with a translation.\n\n\"Some giant thing ate him.\"\n\nDecapitated Dan cackled to life. \"O ho ho. Ol' Dan told you. I told you, I did. One by one by one the prophecies of Ol' Dan will come to pass. O, how I can hardly wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. It'd be enough to drive me mad if I weren't already out of my skull. So to speak.\" He howled with deranged laughter.\n\n\"Quiet, please,\" said Nessy.\n\nDan stifled himself, though he still snorted and grunted with some amusement.\n\n\"Now, what exactly happened?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"An evil entity engulfed the doomed undead denizen in its giant jagged jaws.\"\n\n\"Oh it was a horrible sight.\" Morton leaned boldly onto the plate. \"Are you going to eat that bit of ham?\"\n\nShe gave her meal to him. Disorder always made her lose her appetite. Plenty of unsavory creatures wandered the castle, especially at night, and Nessy had no doubt that there were mysteries and horrors lurking within it that only Margle knew. There was always another dark corner, another forgotten room, waiting quietly somewhere to cause some trouble. But for all its countless dangers, known and unknown, the inhabitants knew how to navigate them safely. It'd been years since anything of this sort had happened.\n\n\"Are you sure it ate him?\"\n\n\"We didn't get to see the whole thing before it carried him off. But there was an ear left behind. We lost that to some rats. I think they were ordinary rats, but I don't know for sure. Olivia has gotten into the habit of giving any vermin she catches a chance to speak up, just in case.\"\n\nShe hooted. \"Terribly traumatic to taste a talking treat.\"\n\nNessy hopped from the stool.\n\n\"Where are you going, dear Nessy dear?\" asked Decapitated Dan. \"Going to check on the King? No need, no need. He's dead, dead and gone, gone and gobbled. You can take ol' Dan's word for it. And everyone can tell you, ol' Dan's word is as good as a bucket of peaches. The dead would fear, that's what I said. And that's what's happened.\" He laughed.\n\nNessy ignored him, but even after she'd left the kitchen, he shouted after her.\n\n\"And how about that Door? Gone off on its own, hasn't it? It'll turn up, you can count on that. You have ol' Dan's word on that, and everyone knows Dan's word is as good as sunflower petals.\" His deranged laughter echoed. It rang in her ears long after she'd left him behind, all the way to the dank catacombs and the Vampire King's crypt.\n\nShe opened the King's coffin and found only the bed of soil and nothing else. Her distress rose, although she hid it well. Only the nurgax seemed to notice. It whined by her side.\n\n\"See? Gone,\" said Morton. \"He has to be dead.\"\n\n\"The undead desire dark dirt during days.\"\n\n\"I don't like this, Nessy. I don't think I feel safe anymore.\"\n\n\"Too many multitudes of menace move through this manor. Generous jeopardies, hundreds of horrors, crowds of calamities, a deluge of danger.\"\n\n\"Quiet, please,\" said Nessy.\n\nOlivia struggled against her curse, but still had to spit out one last phrase. \"Great gatherings of ghastliness.\"\n\nNessy wasn't certain the King was dead. He could be sleeping somewhere else. There were plenty of dark places, but his sleep in any of these would be uncomfortable without his native soil to bring him peace.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Given a choice, the King would be in this coffin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was either dead or greatly inconvenienced. Perhaps hiding somewhere in terror. The idea of something unfamiliar roaming the halls hungry and unchecked put Nessy in an ill mood. This was unacceptable. The simple joys of Polishing Day would have to wait.\n\nOlivia yawned. \"Instincts obligate I seek slumber soon. Preferably a protected perch now that this new nefarious nuisance is gnawing on our neighbors.\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" said Nessy. \"I need the two of you to come with me to the library and help me identify whatever ate the King.\"\n\n\"Happy to help halt these hideous happenings.\" Olivia blinked her large eyes sleepily. \"But be brief. I need my nest and a nap.\"\n\nMargle's library was something of a legend among wizards. It was a huge chamber with vaulted ceilings and great iron shelves filled with thousands upon thousands of magical textbooks. Tremendous crystal chandeliers made the room bright as day. Margle had never been especially stylish, but he'd spent a lot of time here in his research. It was the only room in the entire castle with wall-to-wall carpets and that maintained a comfortably mild temperature year-round. Several gargoyles decorated the shelves, unenchanted, purely for decoration. There was also a dead man dangling from a chandelier by the area set aside for reading.\n\nThe Hanged Man choked a greeting at their arrival. He could only speak clearly when he bothered to hoist himself up from his noose. But his arms were withered, mummified, and he didn't usually trouble anymore.\n\nNessy took special pride in the fact that the shelves were impeccably arranged. Maintaining it had never been the problem. Getting it in order had been the task. Margle never put anything in its proper place, and he'd had a small mountain of mislaid books. \"Put these away. Do it quickly, and if I find even one book in the wrong space,\" he'd pointed to the Hanged Man, \"I'll string you up next to the last imbecile dimwitted enough to put a necromancy primer in the alchemy section.\"\n\nIt'd been her first task in his service, and after she'd finished, Margle had paid her his one and only compliment in his employ. \"Took you long enough, mongrel.\" It wasn't so much the words, but his smile that she considered her commendation. Although it wasn't so much a smile as a gratified snarl.\n\nNessy asked the Hanged Man for the best book on monsters. He pulled himself up just long enough to spit out, \"Stoker's Abominable Index.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nHe choked out a strangled \"You're welcome.\"\n\nNessy went to the zoology shelves and found the text. For some reason, wizards loved giant books, not just thick but absurdly proportioned.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her small size required she carry the book across her back to the reading area. She laid it down with a thud. She pried the worn leather cover open with some effort and ran her finger down the table of contents.\n\nThe book slammed shut, nearly smacking her hand.\n\n\"Should've warned you,\" sputtered the Hanged Man. \"He doesn't like to be read. And he can be a little verbose.\"\n\n\"I am not,\" shouted the book.\n\nThe Hanged Man looked as if he might argue, but his arms gave out so he just shrugged.\n\nThe book cleared its throat, although technically lacking a throat to clear. \"Professor Stoker, greatest monster authority in all the world, at your ser vice, sir.\"\n\n\"She's a female,\" said Morton.\n\nStoker's pages shook. \"Of course. I should've known better. The female kobold has larger ears, closer set eyes, and—might I see your tongue? Ah, yes, speckled blue. Please, forgive my error. I can assure you, no one in this world knows more about subhuman flora and fauna than I. But my specialty is dangerous and unsavory beasts, not harmless creatures such as yourself. No slight intended to your species, my dear, but even you must admit kobolds are not the most intimidating of creatures.\"\n\n\"Verbose is an understatement,\" whispered Morton in Nessy's ear.\n\nOlivia, perched on Nessy's other shoulder, agreed. \"Verifiable veneration for his very voice.\"\n\nNessy interrupted. \"Excuse me, but we need to identify a monster.\"\n\nStoker cleared his throat again. \"Certainly, miss. You'll find no greater expert on the study of monsters, beasts, creatures, and horrors.\"\n\nOlivia's head drooped. \"My resistance to rest is reducing.\"\n\nNessy attempted to open the book, but he held shut. \"No need for that,\" he muttered through tightly clamped pages. \"I can tell you anything you want to know faster than you could find it on your own. Just describe it.\"\n\n\"I'd do what he says,\" sputtered the Hanged Man. \"It'd be easier.\"\n\nStoker grumbled. \"I spend most my time on that shelf. I think it's not too much to ask that I be allowed to speak when I'm able.\"\n\nNessy conceded it was a reasonable request. She had Morton and Olivia describe what they'd seen of the Vampire King's end. Stoker analyzed their report aloud.\n\n\"A creature which feeds on the undead, eh? This is not as unusual as the layman might suspect. Vampires have a variety of predators: the bloodgutter badger, the mammoth maggot, the consuming slug. There is even a rare breed of carp which is quite lethal to the undead. But from what you have said, I have surmised that the beast encountered can be none of these.\"\n\n\"Can you stop telling us what it isn't and get to the point?\" said Morton.\n\nThe book's pages bent in a frown. \"Very well. I was merely attempting to educate you, to broaden your view of the fascinating world of metazoology. But if you insist on remaining ignorant...\"\n\n\"This endless elaboration has exhausted my energies.\" Olivia hopped to the table, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.\n\nStoker took the hint. \"This can only be one creature, an abomination so infrequently encountered that I have never seen one personally. Nor have I ever met any fellow scholar who has. I even doubted that it existed, but now...\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morton was tired as well, but without nocturnal instincts, his annoyance kept him awake. \"What is it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word restriction: Use 'starve' 2 time(s) only", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The book cleared his throat once again and opened wide.\n\n\"That's it. That's what we saw.\" Morton hopped onto the pages beside a sketch of a big black cloud with claws and vicious eyes.\n\nStoker mumbled as best he could without closing on the mouse. \"Well of course it is. I am a world-renowned authority.\"\n\nNessy forced him flat. The book was ridiculously large, and the print on his pages was equally ridiculously large. She supposed it helped to make the intricate calligraphy more legible. It could've been half the size and perfectly functional, but Nessy had always been very practical and she'd never met a wizard yet who enjoyed that virtue.\n\nShe read aloud. \"Hellhound. A creature of the underworld that feeds on intransient souls, both material and immaterial. The Hellhound's diet consists of apparitions, banshees, ghosts, ghouls, lamias, phantasms, phantoms, revenants, shades, specters, spirits, spooks, wights, will-o-the-wisps, wraiths, zombies...\"\n\n\"Doesn't say anything about vampires,\" observed Morton.\n\nStoker turned his next page, rudely thrusting the rodent onto the desk.\n\n\"...And especially vampires.\"\n\nThe book slammed himself shut again. \"In most situations, the beast would starve to death soon enough, but this castle's spirit population makes an ideal environment. The good news is that the hound is exclusively nocturnal. During the daylight hours, it finds a deep shadow to nest in. Again, this castle's many darkened corners provide it with an abundance of nesting grounds. A most interesting chance for prolonged study.\"\n\n\"Does it eat mice?\" asked Morton. \"Or owls?\"\n\n\"Only ghostly ones. It has no interest in the living or the deceased. Its purpose is to restore balance to the metaphysical scales by dragging the stubborn dead to Hell.\"\n\nThe Hanged Man spoke up. \"I don't want to go to Hell.\"\n\n\"Tough luck then, old chap.\"\n\n\"How do we get rid of it?\" asked Nessy.\n\nStoker snapped his leather cover three times. \"A very good question. Unfortunately, I don't know. Theoretically, it should starve to death once it has exhausted its food supply.\"\n\n\"But that could take months.\" Morton's whiskers twitched. \"I'm glad I'm not dead.\"\n\n\"I wish I could be of more help.\" His satin bookmark offered half a shrug. \"But anything else would be pure conjecture, and I deal in facts. I advise you seek a more knowledgeable authority. Perhaps a wizard.\"\n\n\"Or a demon,\" said Nessy.\n\n\"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that. Oh no. Not at all. My information on demons is unpleasant without exception.\" His pages flipped to a drawing of a huge, winged monster with a twisted, leering face. It was only ink, but it was dreadful to behold. The real thing could only be worse.\n\nFrowning, she slammed the book shut.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I hope it won't come to that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 17 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "[[OOC: Next turn only: maintain roughly 31% quote-to-text ratio]]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She returned Stoker to the shelf. He protested, and while she understood his reluctance, she couldn't bring herself to not put something back where it belonged. It was her nature, nursed by years of habit. She remembered the Vampire King's empty coffin. She hadn't any fondness for the King, but that he wasn't there distressed her more and more.\n\n\"Are you really going to deal with a demon?\" asked Morton.\n\n\"If I have to.\"\n\n\"But the hound isn't dangerous. Not to us anyway. Why risk your life, your soul, for people that are already dead?\"\n\n\"Just because they're dead, that doesn't mean they deserve to be dragged to Hell.\"\n\nThe Hanged Man struggled but was unable to raise himself with his exhausted limbs.\n\n\"No need to thank me,\" she said. \"Just doing my job.\"\n\n\"A damn sight more than your duty, if you ask me,\" said Morton.\n\nBut the castle would be kept. And as she was the only one who could keep it, she would do whatever was necessary to maintain its order and to protect all those, living or dead, who called it home. They could expect nothing less from her. And neither could she.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Let's work on this story segment. I'll provide a part, and you'll continue with one hundred and sixty sentences in the style of A. Lee Martinez. This is comedy, fantasy genre and characters might appear without introduction.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nessy spent the next few hours checking each and every volume of the library's metazoology, demonology, and necromancy sections. She found nothing else on hellhounds. Nothing on how to summon them up. Nothing to dispatch them. Nor even a single description of the beast.\n\nShe wondered how the creature had found its way into the castle. She didn't believe it was happenstance. Everything else was here for a reason. But Margle's castle was protected from casual entry by unnatural forces. An underworld creature couldn't just slip in. The hound could only have come from inside.\n\nHad Margle summoned it from the underworld with a magic so dark and secret that it wasn't even hinted at in even his most prized books? Surely, it must've been here by the wizard's doing, but how had it gotten loose?\n\nPerhaps Margle had nothing to do with it. Perhaps it was all the castle's will. Decapitated Dan had said it possessed a life of its own. She'd already known that. But with its master dead, had it truly become an evil place, bent on devouring them all? She refused to believe that. Not yet. So rather than focus on things she didn't understand, she turned her attention to the hellhound and its removal.\n\nQuestioning Yazpib the Magnificent proved fruitless. \"I'm sorry, but I have little experience with demonology. Too dangerous. Far, far too dangerous.\" The fluid in his jar paled at the mere thought. \"It's no surprise my brother would. He was as devious and scheming as any demon.\"\n\nSo Nessy had only one place to turn: The Purple Room.\n\nIt was expressly forbidden to enter the room. Nor had she ever had any such desire because this was where a demon lived. If demons truly lived. Not just any demon, but a powerful lord of one of the deepest, darkest hells, bound to the room by Margle's most potent magic.\n\nNessy had a healthy caution toward The Purple Room, but she didn't fear it as she did The Door At The End Of The Hall. She passed it often, and it never acted the least bit strange. If she hadn't known there was a demon inside it, she wouldn't have given it much thought. Even knowing, she had always considered it merely a place she wasn't allowed to enter.\n\nIt was habit, not fear, that made her pause before The Purple Room's door. Margle was dead, but she felt some compulsion to obey him still.\n\n\"Changed your mind?\" asked Yazpib. \"That's good. Because you really shouldn't be going in there.\"\n\nNessy put her hands against the door. She didn't sense any of the danger she'd felt from The Door At The End Of The Hall, and she wasn't surprised. Wouldn't a good demon hide its darkness? It made temptation so much easier.\n\nSir Thedeus, clinging to her shoulder, whispered, \"If ye change your mind, lass, none would think the less of ye.\"\n\n\"Get the necklace.\"\n\nThe bat flew to the cart, snatched a long, daggerlike tooth on a chain, and dropped it around her neck.\n\n\"Are ye certain this will protect her, wizard?\"\n\n\"A tooth from the demon's own body should keep him from physically harming her.\" He frowned, eyes bobbing. \"But with demons, it isn't the physical threats you have to worry about. You're fortunate if they kill you.\"\n\nNessy held the fang in both her small hands. It was as long as her muzzle. But she was determined. She reached for the handle.\n\nYazpib boiled. \"Wait. If you insist on doing this, let me give you some advice.\"\n\n\"I thought ye didn't know anything about demons.\"\n\n\"I know a little. Just a little.\" He collected his thoughts. \"Chiefly, I remember that demons never do anything for free. So if he does help, and I'd be surprised if he does, but if he does, he'll ask you for some sort of payment. Whatever he asks for, don't give it to him. Because it will appear to be perfectly harmless, but it won't be.\"\n\n\"But you just said he won't help if I don't give him something,\" said Nessy.\n\n\"Yes, but whatever he asks for first, don't give.\"\n\n\"Okay, then I'll give him the second thing.\"\n\nYazpib laughed dryly. \"Oh, I can see this is going to be a bad idea. You can't give him his second request. Because that will appear even more harmless, but will be even more dangerous.\"\n\n\"She fulfills his third request then?\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"Are you insane? The third request will be less treacherous than the second but worse than the first.\"\n\n\"So is she to agree to the fourth demand?\"\n\n\"Of course not. Not if she values her life and her immortal soul.\"\n\n\"So what is she supposed to do then?\" Sir Thedeus's voice grew squeaky with irritation.\n\n\"She's not supposed to go in there.\" His eyes swirled nervously around his brain. \"Understand, Nessy, that my brother was cruel and devious. But you are practical, steady and forthright. Admirable traits, except when it comes to bartering with a demon lord. But I can also see that you're stubborn when you've made up your mind. So please be careful.\"\n\n\"Aye, lass. Without ye, how are we to break our curses?\"\n\n\"Is that all you care about? This courageous creature is about to endanger herself, and all you think about is your curse.\"\n\nThey started squabbling, but Nessy wasn't listening. She stroked the nurgax's horn, told it to stay, and entered The Purple Room. The door clicked shut behind her. The nurgax moaned softly.\n\n\"Good luck, Nessy lass.\"\n\nYazpib shot a disgusted glance at Sir Thedeus with such force that his eyes nearly jumped out of his jar and rolled to the floor. \"Yes. Good luck, indeed.\"\n\nThe Purple Room wasn't purple at all. It was black as pitch. Nessy didn't fear the dark. She possessed a talent for wandering around while blinded. Stick a kobold in an unlit chamber filled with dangers and only one exit, she'd more often than not find her way to safety. Nessy sometimes closed her eyes and dashed through the castle as fast as she could. Just to keep in practice should she ever return to her people.\n\nThe room was warm, though not uncomfortably so. She took a step forward with absolute trust that if there had been a bottomless chasm before her, her instincts would have held her back.\n\nShe spoke up very softly. \"Hello?\"\n\nNo reply came.\n\nShe took another step and called a little louder. \"Hello. Is there anyone in here?\" A perfectly stupid question. Of course, someone was in here. Or something.\n\n\"Hello!\" Her voice echoed.\n\nAnd then, either very far away or very close, a pinpoint of red and then yellow light appeared. A deep, booming voice filled the chamber and rattled in her ears.\n\n\"You are not Margle!\"\n\n\"Margle is dead.\" She bit her tongue. Perhaps it had been unwise to let this slip. But she was a terrible liar. She would have to think before she spoke. Always a good policy when dealing with demons.\n\nThe light flared, yet offered little illumination. She wondered whether it was an eye. A single, glaring red eye set in a hideous visage that could drive her mad to look upon.\n\n\"Dead, you say!\"\n\n\"Yes.\" No point in lying about that now.\n\nThe demon's voice lowered to merely obnoxiously loud. \"How did he die? No, let me guess.\" The shining eye flashed through a spectrum of colors. \"Eaten, wasn't he? Eaten by a nurgax. Am I right?\"\n\nShe nodded, and even in the consuming darkness, the demon could see.\n\n\"How did—\"\n\n\"How did I know?\" The voice became soft and gentle and feminine. \"I know a great many things, Nessy. A great many things.\"\n\nNessy wasn't surprised the demon knew her name. It seemed a very demony thing to know.\n\n\"Then you must also know why I'm here.\"\n\nThe demon laughed delicately. \"Oh no, my dear. When someone comes to me for my help, I only know what they need when they request it of me. Odd, yes, but those are the rules. And we must all play by the rules.\"\n\nThe light drew closer, shone brighter. Yet Nessy couldn't see any other details of the creature.\n\n\"You wear my tooth. Do you fear me, Nessy?\"\n\nShe thought before she answered, but a lie was unnecessary. The demon surely knew the answer. \"Yes.\"\n\nThe demon chuckled with a tinge of sweet venom. \"Very wise. And I see that you are possessed of a noteworthy wisdom along with a generous helping of compassion spiced with a robust serving of pragmatism. A rare delicacy. To measure your soul is to rediscover appetites I'd forgotten, locked away in this room.\" She inhaled loudly and smacked her lips. \"Oh what a morsel you are. That I could pop you in my jaws, tuck you in my cheek, savor you slowly for a thousand or so years.\" Her voice trailed away dreamily.\n\n\"Alas, you hold my tooth. And my jaws aren't what they used to be.\" The eye rose high in the air, then low to settle on Nessy's nose. The demon was nothing more than a tiny, shining firefly. The insect was unremarkable, save that her tail was a shimmering tongue of flame. The lick of fire was hot, but it didn't burn.\n\nThe demon's breath was warm and sweet, washing over Nessy as if from a much larger creature. The sweetness was the stench of rotting flesh.\n\n\"You don't know what a treat this is for me. For far too long I've had to put up with that ludicrous wizard. And his soul, as a connoisseur of such, I can tell you is no joy to look upon. As ugly and contemptible as any I have ever come across. A wasted, miserable bauble, it is.\"\n\n\"Is?\"\n\nThe firefly flitted to the top of Nessy's head. \"I think we both know that he isn't dead. Not truly. Wretched and despicable as he might be, Margle is a superb wizard. I alone am testament to his power. Do you know how long I have been bound to this room, to flutter about in this purple cell?\"\n\nSo The Purple Room was truly purple. Although, one would need a demon's eyes to see it in this darkness.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Neither do I. Time and its passing are nothing to me because I have always been and will always be. But this is not a boon. Every hour in here is like a year to one such as I. Every minute a forever of itself.\" The firefly climbed down Nessy's neck and sat on her shoulder. \"Countless eternities of solitude, of waiting for Margle to visit and make some demand, of having to listen to him prattle on and on. 'Oh, demon, I want this. Oh, demon, share your secrets. Never forget, demon, I can destroy you. Never forget, I know your true name.' As if he'd let me.\" She whispered in Nessy's ear. \"As if I could.\"\n\nThe firefly's flame burst into a long, white tail. She flew through the air in fleeting patterns, leaving a trail behind her, a painting in living incandescence of Margle's long, lean, sneering face. The demon howled, sending shivers through every hair on Nessy's furry body. Margle's image twisted into a tortured scream before dissolving. The only light was once again the firefly's delicate tail burning a warm, gentle blue.\n\n\"Enough about me. Though I do appreciate you lending me your ear. I will have my vengeance one day, but not today. Today, we will speak about you. About what you want. About how I will help you.\" The fire tinted a cold crimson. \"And how you will help me.\"\n\nNessy swallowed her uneasiness.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "writing partner mode: add one hundred and twenty-three sentences. maintain story elements. themes: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Many centuries ago, in a kingdom that has long since faded from memory, there was a fracture between the land of the living and the empire of the damned. Monsters of the underworld swarmed the good people and threatened to crush this realm. And from there, the rest of the world perhaps. But this abysmal tale of destruction didn't come to pass because of one enchantress and one smithy.\n\nThe smithy created a sword of such exquisite beauty and flawless craftsmanship that he would never design another as marvelous. Knowing this, he never stepped into another forge. The enchantress blessed the sword with all her magic, surrendering all her power into one everlasting spell. Then the smithy and the enchantress retired to raise sheep and beget fat, happy children. But not before giving the sword to a worthy warrior and sending him forth to save the world.\n\nThus armed, the warrior did beat back the demons, driving them into their Hell and sealing the portal. The kingdom was preserved, but there were still wrongs to right and evil creatures to destroy. The warrior kept at this noble task until, eventually, he was mortally wounded. Dying, he drove his weapon into a nearby rock while pronouncing his prophecy: \"I plunge this blade into this stone and here it shall remain until a hero of courage and honor, strong of limb, skilled in combat, abhorrent of evil in all its forms shall draw it again.\"\n\nThen he died.\n\nThe sword waited. Men came to test their worth: knights and barbarians, assassins and paladins, kings and peasants. Thousands were deemed inadequate, but in the course of time, a deserving hand was found. The weapon was drawn to continue its endless battle against evil.\n\nThough the sword was everlasting, its wielder wasn't. This second great warrior was slain while knee-deep in the black and green blood of a demonic legion. Before she died, she drove the sword into a nearby tree stump.\n\n\"I plunge this blade into this stump and here it shall remain until a hero of courage and honor, strong of limb, skilled in combat, abhorrent of evil in all its forms shall draw it again.\"\n\nThen she died.\n\nThe sword waited. Another hero eventually arrived, and the weapon was pulled from the stump. More epic battles were fought. More demons were slain. Heroes died. The sword was plunged and unplunged over and over again. Until, one fateful day, its latest dying hero thrust it once again into the nearest convenient object.\n\n\"I plunge this blade into this... cabbage? Oh damn.\"\n\nThen he died.\n\nSoon after this, Margle took possession of the Sword in the Cabbage. All his attempts to pervert its sacred magic ended in failure. So the sword slept.\n\nAnd the sword waited.\n\nMargle's armory was more of a museum really. The wizard had little use for swords or spears, armor or shields, but he'd always enjoyed collecting for its own sake. His collection of weapons was most impressive, housed in its own wing along with his treasure horde and the hall of art. It was too much for even dedicated Nessy to keep polished. For this, Margle had drafted a silver gnome.\n\nHis name was Gnick, and he wasn't cursed. Not technically. But like every silver gnome, he was obligated to help any host who served him a bit of bread, a glass of wine, and a bed of straw. In return for this pittance, he was compelled to polish and polish and polish. Such was the code of every silver gnome. He could only receive his wages, meager as they were, when he'd finished. And he was never finished because it would've taken a hundred industrious gnomes to get every weapon, every piece of armor, every shield, to shine at once. So Gnick's bread had turned to mold on its plate. His wine was vinegar. And his straw was undisturbed. And Gnick, who never ate, never drank, and never slept, only polished, was in a very, very ill mood.\n\nWhen Nessy, Sir Thedeus, and the nurgax arrived at the armory, Gnick was absorbed in buffing a piece of tarnished armor. She greeted him with a pleasant hello, but he was too busy to reply. Although he did glare.\n\nIt was her policy to be courteous to all the castle's inhabitants, no matter how irritable. They mostly had good excuses. She politely waited for him to finish with the armor and then asked for directions before he started on the lance beside it.\n\n\"Excuse me, but is the Sword in the Cabbage still to the left? Or has Margle moved it again?\"\n\nGnick spat on the lance. Nothing brought shine to steel like gnome spit. \"No. Still left.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nBefore she could take a step, Gnick jumped in her path.\n\n\"You won't be touching anything, will you?\"\n\n\"Just the Sword in the Cabbage.\"\n\nGnick glowered and did his best to appear threatening. But as he was very thin, very tired, and about a foot shorter than her, it came across as merely irksome. Like all faeries, he was immortal, but decades of uninterrupted work, no meals, no rest, had taken their toll. He'd lost his gnomish plumpness and the spring in his beard.\n\n\"Why don't you go and rub your oily fingers over all the blades while you're at it?\" Gnick grumbled. \"Might as well, seeing as how you'll be shedding all over the place too. The last time you were here, I kept finding hairs floating about for weeks.\"\n\nNessy thought his consternation a touch misdirected. While she might shed a little, she failed to see the harm. Gnick's task was an endless one, and a smudge here and a hair there couldn't make the duty any more everlasting. But she set aside such reasoning, knowing full well his mood had nothing to do with her.\n\nSir Thedeus was less polite. \"Stand aside, ye imp. We've important matters to attend to.\"\n\n\"And you, you little flying furball, if I find even a single dropping in my armory I'll—\"\n\n\"I dunna leave droppings.\" The bat leaned forward on Nessy's shoulder. \"I have never ever dropped. Although in this case, I might be willing to make an exception.\"\n\nGnick pushed back his pointed hat. \"You wouldn't dare.\"\n\n\"Oh I dunna know. I had a mango this morning. Never agree well with me, those mangos.\" He grinned, baring his tiny fangs.\n\nNessy stepped in. \"I promise we won't touch anything besides the Sword in the Cabbage, and I'll do my best to limit my shedding.\"\n\n\"And the bat?\"\n\n\"Ach, all right. Not a drop. Ye have me word as a gentleman.\"\n\nGnick snarled. Nessy suspected he questioned Sir Thedeus's gentlemanly qualifications, but he thankfully kept this to himself. \"And what about that thing?\"\n\n\"The nurgax will behave itself.\"\n\nWhether or not he believed her, he relented. They didn't truly need his permission, but Nessy was still glad to have it. Gnick followed them, his busy eyes scanning for tarnishes, pausing every few feet to spit and rub flaws imperceptible to anyone else.\n\nThey passed through a corridor lined with armor of all sizes and shapes. Some were so strange, having sleeves for dozens of arms, holes for wings or tails, helmets made to protect oddly-shaped heads, that Nessy couldn't imagine what creatures might wear them. Margle had a full suit of enchanted chain mail that had once belonged to a dragon czar. Three kobolds could fit into one of the gauntlets. Whenever Nessy looked at it, she was reminded that no matter how great and powerful anyone might be, they would always take steps to deny their vulnerability. And in doing so, allowed it to show even more.\n\nThough the dragon armor was one of Margle's most prominent possessions, his greatest prize in the entire armory was the Sword in the Cabbage. Over the years, as he'd attempted to unlock its secrets, the enchanted sword had retaliated. Each unsuccessful effort on Margle's part only made the cabbage larger, leafier, and greener. It was now fifteen feet around at the very least.\n\n\"It's bigger than I remember,\" she remarked.\n\n\"Grew another three feet after Margle's last try,\" said Gnick.\n\nNessy climbed the stairs beside the cabbage and studied the sword. Gold, silver, and platinum traced delicate swirls along its hilt. The blade gleamed and cast reflections as clear as a mirror. It was a fine weapon. Even Nessy, who knew very little of weapons, could see that. But it was too large for her. She couldn't see herself wielding it effectively, even if she'd been properly trained. But the demon had said she could figure it out.\n\n\"Go on, lass,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"See if ye can draw it.\"\n\nShe wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled. The sword didn't budge.\n\n\"Try pulling harder, lass.\"\n\nShe climbed onto the cabbage and with both hands tightly clutching the sword, pushed with her legs while straining her shoulders.\n\n\"It's no use. It's stuck.\"\n\nAs soon as she let go, Gnick began polishing the handle. \"I could've told you that. If Margle couldn't free it, I don't know what chance you've got.\"\n\n\"Maybe ye need to say some magic words,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"Unlikely,\" remarked Gnick. \"Margle spent hours shouting incantations until his voice went. He shook the walls and rattled the armor, but the cabbage just grew larger. Dreadful amounts of dust to clean. Took me months to get it all out of the air.\"\n\n\"But the demon said ye could use it, dinna she?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"No. She said I could figure out how to use it.\"\n\n\"Well, what's that mean?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I don't know.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sir Thedeus snorted. \"That's a fine piece of advice. Says ye can use it, but dunna say how. If that's how a demon is helpful, no wonder no one likes them.\" Sir Thedeus snorted. \"I would'na be surprised if she was lying.\"\n\nAn unfamiliar voice spoke up. \"No. It wasn't lying.\"\n\n\"Echo, is that ye?\"\n\n\"No. It's me.\" The Sword in the Cabbage glowed lightly.\n\n\"Ye can talk?\"\n\nSir Thedeus's shock was odd to Nessy. Didn't many things in Margle's castle talk?\n\n\"I'd be a poor magic sword if I couldn't,\" said the weapon.\n\n\"Hold on,\" said Gnick. \"I've never heard you speak before.\"\n\n\"I don't speak to dark wizards. Except perhaps when I'm spearing them through their black hearts. Then I might say something along the lines of 'How do you like having your black heart pierced? Not very much fun, I'll wager.' \" The sword chuckled. \"Not very clever, I'll admit, but you'd be amazed how much pithier it sounds when you're running through an evil wizard.\"\n\n\"Pardon me,\" said Nessy, \"but I was told by a demon that I could put you to use somehow.\"\n\n\"Then it must be true because demons can't lie.\"\n\n\"Canna lie?\" Sir Thedeus frowned. His pointed ears twitched. \"But they're demons. They're creatures of evil and deceit.\"\n\n\"Without a doubt, but they are also bound by certain supernatural laws. While they are deceptive creatures, they can't lie outright.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" agreed Gnick.\n\n\"And why shouldn't it be? I was made for demon slaying. I know of what I speak. So if you were sent to me by a demon, there must be some truth in it.\" The sword's light faded. \"Although, I do confess some distaste at the referral.\"\n\n\"Maybe ye should try again, Nessy.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't bother. Only a hero can draw me from this vegetable.\"\n\nThe blade radiated a brilliant light. Nessy shaded her eyes but discovered it wasn't necessary. The brightness wasn't blinding.\n\n\"I shall awaken when a hero of honor and courage, strong of limb, skilled in combat, abhorrent of evil in all its forms takes me in his hand. And not before. As I have all who have touched me, I have taken stock of your qualifications. You've a good character, miss. I find no fault in your honor or your courage, but strong of limb, skilled in combat, you most certainly are not. And while I detect a strong distaste for both impoliteness and cruelty, that is simply not enough. You are denied. Please take no offense. I must hold to very high standards.\"\n\n\"Understandable.\" Nessy paced atop the giant cabbage, circling the sword. \"So if a hero does take hold of you, you would be able to help us?\"\n\n\"Find a hero for me, and I would relish commencing my noble duty once again.\"\n\nNessy sat at the top of the stairs and considered the puzzle while Gnick polished the Sword in the Cabbage and Sir Thedeus nibbled on the leaves. She petted the nurgax while contemplating.\n\nShe was very good at puzzles, due in no small part to her orderly nature. All riddles were merely the arrangement of things so that they fit together in the only logical way. The sword needed a hero. The castle was full of heroes, albeit all burdened by curses. But perhaps this didn't matter.\n\n\"Sir Thedeus, you should try drawing the sword.\"\n\nThe bat gulped down a bite of cabbage. \"Me, lass?\"\n\n\"Him?\" Gnick laughed. \"He's no hero.\"\n\n\"I am too.\" Sir Thedeus snarled. \"Or I was before that damned wizard transformed me into this rodent form.\"\n\n\"Bats aren't rodents.\"\n\n\"I'm small. I'm furry. I live off scraps. That makes me a rodent, no matter what the scholars say. But the misshapen imp is right. I'm not a hero anymore.\" His head drooped. There was a hint of a tear in his eye. This convinced Nessy that she just might be right. Bats couldn't shed a tear. Possibly Margle's curse had only obscured the hero within, not obliterated it completely.\n\nShe scooped Sir Thedeus up. \"I know you're both courageous and honorable. And you're certainly abhorrent of evil.\"\n\n\"Aye. But I'm not strong of limb, nor skilled in combat.\"\n\n\"Just because you can't hold a weapon anymore doesn't take away the skill. It's still within you.\"\n\nGnick rubbed his tired eyes and yawned. \"But he's puny. He couldn't even lift the sword if it were free.\"\n\n\"Strength isn't found in being the strongest of all, but the strongest you can be.\" Nessy looked Sir Thedeus in his beady eyes. \"And, bat or not, you slew Margle, didn't you?\"\n\n\"Not really. Ye were there, lass. Ye saw it. He slipped. 'Twas an accident.\"\n\n\"You don't give yourself enough credit. Even if luck played a part, it wouldn't have happened without you. I'd be in the nurgax's belly if not for you.\"\n\nThe Sword in the Cabbage remarked, \"That is most impressive. I think you should give it a go. I make no guarantees though.\"\n\nSir Thedeus hesitated. His doubt was evident. As was his fear. If he failed to draw the sword, it could only mean two things. Either his curse had taken away his heroic status or, worse, he wasn't the hero he once was, or perhaps had never been. It was a fearful trial. Sir Thedeus, like all the castle's accursed heroes, had little left of value but his memories. Nessy couldn't imagine anything more awful for him than being rejected by the Sword in the Cabbage. It might be a blow from which he would never recover. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to know. Not for certain.\n\n\"You don't have to. Not if you don't want to.\"\n\n\"Of course he doesn't want to,\" said Gnick. \"The windbag knows he'll only make a fool of himself.\"\n\nNessy's distaste for discourtesy flared. \"Shut up, Gnick. Go polish something if you've nothing constructive to offer.\"\n\nGnick grumbled.\n\nThe nurgax barked. Sir Thedeus's eyes widened. He'd never seen Nessy lose her temper like that. It reminded him that there were more important things than pride. He gritted his teeth and stuck out his jaw.\n\n\"Put me on the sword.\"\n\nShe smiled gently. \"No matter what, you are a hero.\"\n\n\"So are ye, lass.\" He stretched out his wings toward the weapon. \"Now let me draw this blade and get rid of that hound before it eats any more of me friends.\" He climbed onto the hilt.\n\n\"At last!\" exclaimed the Sword. \"I was beginning to think it would be another thousand years before I was free of this ridiculous cabbage!\"\n\nIn a flash of light, Sir Thedeus transformed from his tiny bat form into a tall, brawny, naked man. Nessy guessed he was handsome by human standards, but this was mostly assumption. Personally, she found their bald, lanky bodies absurd. The occasional tuft of fur here and there was particularly comical.\n\nHe drew the sword and held it high. \"Me curse is broken. I'm a man again!\"\n\n\"Loath as I am to admit this,\" said the sword, \"I haven't so much broken your curse as paused it. I'm afraid it's not permanent.\"\n\n\"How long do I have?\"\n\n\"Another minute or two.\" The sword grunted as if carrying a heavy weight. \"It's the best I can do.\"\n\nSir Thedeus lowered the blade with a frown. \"And then what? I'm a bat again?\"\n\n\"Afraid so. But only until I build my strength up again. Then I can make you a man.\" The weapon trembled in his hand. \"For at least another minute or two.\"\n\nBefore Nessy could begin thinking of solutions to this latest development, the castle bells tolled. It was a sound she'd heard only once before, and she didn't recognize it right away.\n\n\"That's the entrance bells.\" Her ears cocked forward.\n\n\"Impossible,\" said Gnick.\n\nNessy had little interest in debating what was obviously true. The gongs were ringing.\n\nA puff of red-and-yellow smoke engulfed Sir Thedeus, and he transformed back into a bat. The sword halted its fall, oriented its point downward, and drove itself deep into the giant cabbage.\n\n\"Oh damn,\" said Sir Thedeus and the sword in unison.\n\nNessy and the nurgax descended the stairs and started down the hall.\n\n\"Where are ye going, lass?\"\n\n\"To answer the door.\"\n\n\"Wait for me.\"\n\nHe flew after her, leaving Gnick alone in the armory. The gnome polished the Sword in the Cabbage, which was already gleaming and always did so.\n\n\"Hero, huh?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He wrapped his tiny fists around the handle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sorry,\" said the sword. \"Not even close.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Expand the story by adding 180 sentences in the comedy, fantasy genre. Match existing character context.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nessy rarely visited the entrance hall. There were no monsters in it, not a single accursed resident, nothing at all except for a long, worn carpet. There was also little that needed tending. Aside from the carpet, the hall was empty. Margle had never used the front doors, and he never had visitors. Nessy had used the doors once, when first applying for employment. After they'd been shut and barred, she'd never seen them opened again.\n\nShe recognized the entrance bells only because she'd rung them that first day. They'd been silent in the years since. Though she'd never been especially curious, their muted din intrigued her. During her long walk to the front hall, the bells paused for a minute or two before tolling again.\n\nThe entrance hall was a small chamber made cavernous by its high ceiling and barrenness. Today, however it was filled with castle inhabitants, every bit as curious as Nessy. The gathering of rodents, birds, reptiles, faeries, and other odd creatures (including a ghost or two) clamored.\n\n\"Who is it? Who can it be?\" asked a small, white cloud.\n\n\"It's Margle!\" shouted a boa constrictor. \"It's Margle, and he's come back to destroy us all! He's here for his revenge!\"\n\n\"But we didn't kill him,\" moaned an apparition with a trembling voice. \"It's not our fault.\"\n\n\"As if that will matter,\" said a hefty rat. \"Wizards are defined by their disproportionate vengeance. Wouldn't be surprised if he turned the lot of us into slugs.\"\n\n\"I resent that,\" said a slug.\n\n\"Why would he be using the front door?\" asked a gnat, although no one heard him.\n\n\"Being a slug isn't the worst thing you can be,\" said the slug.\n\n\"You're slimy and disgusting,\" countered the rat. \"You haven't even got the dignity of a shell.\"\n\n\"At least I'm not diseased.\"\n\n\"That's a myth. It's the fleas that are diseased. Not me.\"\n\n\"How dare you, sir!\" shouted a flea nestled on the rat's shoulder.\n\n\"Doesn't make any sense for him to be using the front door of his own castle,\" said the unheard gnat. \"Even if he has come back from the dead.\"\n\nNessy barked a few times to collect everyone's attention. It took a moment for the assembly to fall silent.\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" asked the cloud.\n\n\"I'm going to see who it is,\" said Nessy. \"Now please be quiet.\"\n\n\"If it's Margle,\" whispered the rat, \"don't let him in. I don't want to be a slug.\"\n\nThe slug, who'd had his fill of being insulted, stormed from the chamber as fast as his single foot could propel him. He'd already dashed half an inch.\n\n\"And even if he did use the front door,\" thought aloud the gnat, \"I don't think he'd ring the bell. He'd probably just come right in.\"\n\nBethany the banshee keened, \"Beware your footing, Nessy! You're going to trip and bruise your shin!\" Her screeching voice filled the room, causing everyone to cover their ears. Those that could anyway. \"Brrruiiiisseeeed shiiiiiiiiiinnnnn!\"\n\n\"Thank you, Bethany. Now please be quiet.\"\n\nThe banshee shrugged. \"Don't say I didn't warn you.\"\n\nSir Thedeus clung to Nessy's shoulder. \"Is answering the door such a good idea?\"\n\n\"The bells have been ringing for twenty minutes. Whoever is out there isn't likely to go away. Perhaps it's just a wandering minstrel looking for a few coins. Or a traveling boot salesman.\"\n\n\"Aye, lass.\"\n\nNeither believed that. Everyone in a thousand leagues knew to avoid this castle.\n\nNessy climbed upon the nurgax's back and opened the slit in the door. She found herself staring into burning red eyes. Literally: she could see the flames dancing within.\n\nA soft woman's voice floated through the slit. \"Where's Margle?\"\n\nNessy kept her head. She didn't say the first answer that came to her, the truth, and found a half-truth, which was as close to lying as she could comfortably do without some mental preparation.\n\n\"The master is indisposed.\" She smiled politely. \"Can I help you?\"\n\nThe burning eyes and their blond brows knit in a glare. \"Yes, tell your master that it is exceedingly rude to not greet an invited guest when she arrives.\"\n\n\"As you wish, madam.\" Still smiling, Nessy closed the slit.\n\n\"Did she say she was invited?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"Apparently.\"\n\n\"Is she lying? She has to be lying.\"\n\nThe accursed gathering chattered among themselves. Their noise was soon an echoing clatter.\n\n\"Quiet down, please!\" shouted Nessy.\n\nShe opened the slit again.\n\n\"My apologies, madam, but the master must reschedule your visit with his sincerest regrets.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, madam?\"\n\nThe fire in the visitor's eyes ignited, creeping up her eyebrows with an unpleasant burning odor. \"Just who does Margle think he is? I am Tiama the Scarred, premier wizardess diabolic of the Forbidden Continent. I will not be rescheduled.\"\n\n\"Yes, madam. Would you excuse me one moment, madam?\"\n\nShe closed the slit.\n\n\"Ye can't let her in,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"If she finds out Margle's dead, it'll be all over for us.\"\n\n\"She'll turn us all into slugs,\" moaned a spirit. \"I don't want to be a slug.\"\n\n\"Better than a plague-bearing vermin,\" grumbled the slug who was now seven inches closer to his dramatic exit.\n\n\"How do we know she was invited anyway?\" asked the cloud. \"She could be lying.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes.\" A raven with a tendency to repeat herself agreed. \"She's a liar, liar. Margle would never invite, never invite anyone.\"\n\nThe cloud grayed. \"She wants to come inside and plunder the castle. Take us away for twisted experiments.\"\n\nThe gnat shouted with all his might. \"If that was the case, wouldn't she just come inside? Why lie about it?\" If the hall had been quiet, he might even have been heard.\n\n\"I don't see why she'd lie,\" said Nessy. \"If she wanted in, she'd just push her way inside. In any case, I have to let her in if she doesn't go away. If she knows Margle is dead, it won't make much difference. If she doesn't, turning her away would only make her suspicious things are out of order.\"\n\nSir Thedeus agreed. \"I can see yer logic, lass. But once the witch—\"\n\n\"Wizardess,\" corrected the gnat, but Sir Thedeus continued without pause.\n\n\"—is inside, won't she realize things are amiss then?\"\n\nThis was very true, and a murmur of approval filled the hall. But to Nessy's thinking, this was a later dilemma.\n\nIn her mind, all problems were divided into three categories. There were the Present Problems, which demanded immediate attention. There were the Soon Problems, which were quick to become Present Problems unless judiciously handled. And there were the Later Problems, which were not worth worrying about because they might become Present Problems or they might become Soon Problems or, when she was fortunate, might grow into Never Problems.\n\nNever Problems occupied an invisible fourth slot in this spectrum, but, as they were difficulties that never existed, she'd never actually defined them consciously. She was far too practical for such abstract philosophy. When a tree fell in the forest of Nessy's imagination, she didn't ponder what sounds it might or might not make. She just set about chopping it into firewood.\n\nThe bells tolled again. Tiama the Scarred wasn't leaving, and all wizards Nessy had ever met were intractable once they made up their minds. She opened the slit.\n\n\"I'm afraid the master is very busy at the moment, madam. But I've been given instructions to show you to the guest room for the evening.\"\n\nThe flame in the wizardess's eyes dimmed, though she still didn't look happy. \"Very well.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, madam. I'll just need a moment.\"\n\nNessy closed the slit and turned to the menagerie. \"Go on. If she sees you all here, she'll know something is wrong for sure. Tell everyone else that we have a wizardess in the castle, and to watch themselves. One slip up, and we'll all be finished.\"\n\nThe throng dispersed amid much concerned whispering.\n\n\"Watch your step,\" warned Bethany as she vanished. \"Bruiiissssseeed Shiiiiiiiinnnnnnn...\"\n\nThe front doors were tall and wide, and a heavy bar was set across them. Nessy tried to lift it, but she lacked the strength.\n\n\"I dunna know if this is such a grand idea, lass.\"\n\n\"It isn't, but it's the best we have.\" Nessy raised her hands before her and grunted the levitation incantation she'd learned last night. The bar hopped once, twice, three times before successfully falling to the floor.\n\n\"Not bad,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Maybe ye've a talent for magic after all.\"\n\nThe doors flew open, and Tiama the Scarred stepped inside. Despite her title, she was without any trace of disfigurement. So flawless as to be thoroughly featureless. Her stark white skin was taut and wrinkle-free. Her hair was so light and fine as to be practically invisible. Her lips were entirely omitted around the unforgiving slash of her mouth, and her nose was barely present upon her face. Her ears were so tiny and round, they gave Nessy the impression of sliced mushrooms. The wizardess wore a long, red robe that obliterated any trace of her figure, good or ill. She seemed a tremendous absence, an emptiness of any quality.\n\nExcept for her eyes. These were harsh and burning in every sense. The fire within revealed a blackened soul that sent shivers through Nessy. Margle had been severe, but this was even less forgiving than her master.\n\nThe nurgax growled.\n\n\"Dear gods, what a witch,\" whispered Sir Thedeus. He climbed into the safety of Nessy's shirt.\n\nTiama folded her arms. Her long sleeves fell to her elbows, showing forearms that were without beauty or blemish. She had the hands of an unfinished marionette with tight, knotted knuckles and no fingernails.\n\n\"Do you have a name, beast?\"\n\n\"Nessy, madam.\" She bowed. \"It is my pleasure and honor to serve you.\"\n\n\"Nessy,\" repeated Tiama, making the word seem a frightful insult. \"Nessy, I've traveled far this day to see your master's supposed wonders.\" She glanced around the chamber. \"As yet, I find myself highly unimpressed.\"\n\n\"Yes, madam. The master sincerely apologizes for the inconvenience. But as you have traveled so far, he gladly offers you his hospitality for the night.\"\n\n\"Hospitality.\" This word too seemed appalling when spoken by Tiama.\n\n\"Yes, madam. If you'll follow me, madam, I'll show you to the guest room.\"\n\n\"It's an early hour yet. Does your master expect me to retire for the evening?\"\n\n\"The master offers his grandest apologies.\" Nessy hesitated. Lying didn't come to her easily. \"He is engaged in a very precarious alchemy experiment at the moment. It shall keep him occupied for the night.\"\n\n\"Occupied.\" She spat out the syllables with evident disgust. She might have been frowning too, but her mouth hardly moved, making it difficult to discern expression. \"And why would Margle begin an experiment that would take all night when he knew I was coming?\"\n\nIt was a reasonable question, and Nessy had no reasonable answer ready. Tiama took Nessy's hesitation as nothing more than the dreadful confusion such a simple beast must experience before a wizardess diabolic.\n\n\"You're the creature that tends this castle, are you not?\"\n\n\"Yes, madam.\"\n\n\"Then surely, you must know your way around it.\" Tiama might have smiled. \"You shall show me some wonders if your master cannot be bothered by customary civility.\"\n\nAgain, Nessy paused. She'd been hoping to gain some time to prepare the castle for Tiama's presence. An hour or two to plan would've been helpful. But life didn't always go on a schedule. Much as Nessy disliked admitting this, she accepted it as indisputable reality. She had many important things to do: sweep a few halls, feed a few beasts, make dinner, study her magic, find The Door At The End Of The Hall, slay a hellhound, and read to the monster under her bed. And these were just the tasks that came immediately to mind.\n\nBut Tiama the Scarred was the most pressing of her concerns. So Nessy adjusted her schedule accordingly. A few halls would remain dusty. Dinner would be a little late. The Door At The End Of The Hall could stay lost a while longer. The hellhound would have another night to prowl. And the monster under her bed would just have to wait.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Expand with one hundred and eleven sentences sentences, maintaining consistency with introduced elements.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you would wait here, madam, I'll make sure the guest chambers are properly prepared.\"\n\nTiama frowned. \"Wasn't I expected? Shouldn't the room be ready?\"\n\n\"Yes, madam. But the master receives so few visitors, the room might have suffered some unforeseen neglect.\" Nessy shuddered. Lying was hard enough, but feigning incompetence was nearly impossible. The guest room was never used, but she'd kept it ever ready with the thorough dedication upon which she took no small pride. \"The master would never forgive me if it wasn't perfect for your arrival, madam. It'll only take a moment.\"\n\nNessy pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind her. The chambers were flawlessly arranged, save for a light layer of dust which she proceeded to wipe away.\n\nSir Thedeus slipped from her shirt and flew to the bedpost. \"This witch is going to be a terrible difficulty, lass.\"\n\nShe gently lifted the cat dozing on the large bed.\n\nFortune the feline stirred sleepily. \"It's bad luck to wake a black cat.\"\n\n\"I'll take my chances.\"\n\nShe set him down, and Fortune stretched and stretched and stretched again for good measure. \"Did you say something about a witch?\"\n\n\"Aye. A horrid creature. She killed THE MONSTER with one touch. One touch.\"\n\nFortune, who hadn't quite finished stretching, yawned. \"Which monster was that? The one that lives under Nessy's bed or that smelly one locked in the wardrobe? Or maybe the one that lurks about the catacombs. Never liked that one. Anyone who lurks that much must be up to no good.\"\n\n\"None of those. 'Twas THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE.\"\n\nThe cat licked his paw. \"One touch, you say?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"It's a good thing Margle's dead. Otherwise, he'd be very upset.\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\nNessy stroked Fortune between the ears. \"Don't mention that again. Not while she's here.\"\n\nHe purred. \"What's in it for me?\"\n\nFortune had been a professional gambler, a dashing rogue, a legend among gentlemen of luck, a beloved rascal among their women. Seeking the ultimate challenge, he'd wagered his fate against Margle's wealth on a single roll of the die. To most, this would've been madness. But Fortune trusted his luck as only the greatest gambler could. It'd never let him down before, not when it mattered.\n\nBut there was always a first time. Margle had made him a cat because he had always been one in all but body. And like any feline, he could be loyal and honorable, but his first priority was always his own comfort.\n\n\"I've heard witches are very fond of black cats.\"\n\nSir Thedeus fluttered about Fortune's head. \"Ye traitorous bastard!\"\n\n\"She's not a witch. She's a wizardess diabolic,\" said Nessy. \"And I don't think this one has a fondness for any creature with only four legs. But I'll give you an extra serving of milk if you behave yourself.\"\n\nFortune's tail flicked. \"A bowl now. Not a saucer.\"\n\nShe shook his extended paw. Fortune was a cat of his word and never went back on a deal. She supposed he was much like a demon that way except with less interest in sowing discord and devouring souls.\n\n\"Greedy prat,\" grumbled Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"It's bad luck to swear at a black cat.\"\n\nNext, Nessy went to the chimney and coaxed the flame to life. It wasn't easy, for he was very stubborn. She tossed several logs into the fireplace, but he refused to blaze. She expected as much. Once, only once, she'd run behind and forgotten to feed him his weekly log. He'd nearly extinguished and hadn't forgotten since.\n\n\"If you would please just burn a little brighter. Just long enough to take the chill from the air.\"\n\nHe stuck a tongue of yellow flame from under the firewood. \"And what's in it for me? There's enough here to keep me ablaze for weeks, properly rationed. Why should I risk myself for some wizardess?\"\n\nSir Thedeus groaned. \"Is everyone mad? This witch'll take us all away. Or worse, plunder the castle and leave us here to rot forever in our curses. Stop being a gob and do yer task, lest she grows suspicious.\"\n\nNessy wished he possessed a touch more tact, but it convinced the fire to burn stronger. \"Only to take away the chill. Not a single lick more.\"\n\nNessy dusted the full-length mirror in the corner. She gently tapped the glass. Her reflection covered its ears.\n\n\"Don't do that,\" said Melvin of the Mirrors. \"Do you have any idea how annoying that is on this side of the glass?\"\n\n\"I can't say that I do,\" she admitted, \"but I needed to be certain I drew your attention. I need you to keep an eye on the wizardess for me. Can you do that?\"\n\nMelvin moved from Nessy's reflection to Sir Thedeus's. He spoke not only with the bat's voice, but the accent as well. \"Ye needn't have asked. I'll keep ye informed should she move from this room.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nThe guest chambers prepared to her satisfaction, she let Tiama in. The wizardess glanced about with inscrutability verging on dissatisfaction.\n\n\"Will that be all, madam? Or can I make you comfortable in any other way? Perhaps some wine and cheese?\"\n\nTiama scowled. \"I long ago discarded such ridiculous appetites. Now leave me, Nessy, and don't disturb me lest you wish to lose your immortal soul.\"\n\nShe herded Nessy through the door and closed it with a quiet click.\n\n\"Immortal soul.\" Sir Thedeus snorted. \"Why must witches always be so melodramatic?\"\n\n\"Just part of the occupation,\" said Fortune. \"You must admit it sounds better than merely threatening to boot her behind. I'll see you in the morning, Nessy. Remember now, it's bad luck to break a deal with a black cat.\" He licked his lips and strutted away.\n\n\"Now what are we to do?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\nNessy stroked the nurgax's small wings and frowned at the gray dust left on her palm. \"Now, we take a bath.\"\n\nThe castle had a large, opulent spa with a spring-fed bath. The water was always pleasantly warm, and it had magical properties, able to clean away the thickest, most stubborn grit and grime. It was certainly called for in this case. Nessy wasn't supposed to use it. The spa was for Margle's enjoyment only. That was very strange as he'd never enjoyed it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure Margle could enjoy anything. No wizard she'd ever worked for had. They were always too busy with their pursuits of power, their arcane studies, their consuming idiosyncrasies. She'd learned to not question their rules, nor expect much in the way of appreciation. But Margle was dead, and she decided to take advantage of it while it lasted.\n\nShe lowered herself into the bubbling water. There was nothing quite like a hot bath.\n\nThe nurgax splashed joyfully, cooing and swimming in energetic circles. She kept watch that it didn't stray to the deep end where the Drowned Woman was bound, waiting to lure a victim to share in her watery grave.\n\nSir Thedeus dipped a wing in the water. \"Ach, it's too warm. I prefer a cold bath.\"\n\n\"It's the fastest way to get the dust out of your fur.\" She glanced at the gray clouds slowly being drawn from her own coat.\n\nThe Drowned Woman rose from the depths. With skin drooping under its own wrinkles and flat, dripping hair, she was a vision of sogginess. \"She's right. You are quite dirty. And the water is so much cooler over here. I'd be happy to wash your back if you'd like.\" She smiled crookedly and extended her grasping, clawlike hands.\n\n\"Get drenched, ye daft woman.\"\n\nOn their way to the spa, Nessy had collected Yazpib the Magnificent. The jar-confined wizard (what little was left of him) was her best choice for consultation. \"I believe we have more pressing matters than dusty fur. Are you certain this was Tiama the Scarred you met? I can't believe my brother would be so arrogant as to invite her.\"\n\nNessy grabbed a bar of soap. \"She entered the castle. No one does so without express invitation.\"\n\nSir Thedeus scratched at his itchy fur.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ye've heard of this witch?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wizardess,\" corrected Yazpib. \"And I think it's safe to say there isn't a wizard alive who hasn't heard of her. Half don't believe she exists. The other half believe she does but wish she didn't. This is horrible. Absolutely horrible.\"\n\n\"We'll handle it, lad.\" Sir Thedeus dug hard behind his ears. \"We handled Margle, dinna we?\"\n\n\"Compared to Tiama, Margle was an amateur. My brother was exceedingly powerful, but he could still be undone by a slippery floor and a bit of misfortune. But even destiny bows to a wizardess of Tiama's rank. I've heard that everything she touches perishes. Everything. Even things which have already died are resurrected just long enough to die again.\"\n\n\"That seems rather pointless,\" said Nessy.\n\n\"Exactly. If she has that much power to waste on such an irrelevance, you can imagine what she could do when focused.\"\n\n\"The witch isn't our only problem,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"We've still that hellhound and The Door At The End Of The Hall.\"\n\n\"And the demon.\" Nessy scrubbed between her toes. \"Don't forget the demon. She's certain to be up to something.\" She admired the gleam on her long, black nails.\n\n\"I'd forgotten about her,\" said Yazpib. \"Oh this is terrible. We're doomed.\"\n\n\"Sounds hopeless to me,\" remarked the Drowned Woman. \"And in hopeless situations I've found it's best to just give up. Anyone care for a nice drowning? I'll make it quick.\"\n\nNessy dipped her head below the water, and the Drowned Woman beamed hopefully. Her grin faded when Nessy emerged again. Frowning, the woman submerged herself to sulk on the pool bottom.\n\nNessy leaned back and closed her eyes.\n\n\"How can ye be so calm, lass? Dunna ye understand the situation?\"\n\n\"I believe I understand it very well. It's very delicate, and most anything we do will be the wrong course of action. Takes much of the pressure off when you think about it. Now let me enjoy my bath a while longer.\"\n\nYazpib laughed.\n\n\"What are ye chuckling about?\"\n\n\"She's right. All this worrying doesn't accomplish anything. Better to start working on possible solutions.\"\n\nSir Thedeus's itchiness tempted him to the pool's edge. He snarled at the hot water. \"Fine. Yer the wizard. Can ye think of any way to handle this witch?\"\n\n\"We have to find Margle's fail-safe. Every wizard has one for situations like this, to insure good behavior from a visiting wizard, even a power like Tiama. I'm certain my brother has one. Possibly more than one, given his distrustful nature.\"\n\n\"What would one of these fail-safes look like?\"\n\n\"That's the problem. The form varies greatly from wizard to wizard, based on the nature and the inclination of its maker. Mine was an enchanted winged lion. There wasn't a wizard alive who could stand against it.\"\n\n\"And yet ye are in that jar.\"\n\n\"I didn't get the chance to use it. The poor creature must've starved to death by now. Shame.\"\n\n\"It didn't starve,\" said Nessy. \"Margle keeps it in one of the towers.\"\n\nSir Thedeus perked up. \"Then the lion must be what we need.\"\n\n\"Aren't you listening? A wizard's fail-safe is a very personal thing. It isn't something casually traded about. My brother would've had to neutralize most of its enchantments very carefully to get it here. An awful lot of work, I imagine. Easier to get his own winged lion.\" Yazpib clicked his floating teeth together. \"Greedy looter always did covet everything I had. No, whatever Margle had prepared, it would have to be more monstrous, less tangible.\"\n\n\"Is that a fact or an assumption?\"\n\n\"Trust me. I know my brother. He'd want a horrible fate for anyone who dared challenge him, something truly offensive.\"\n\n\"That's too vague, lad. Canna ye give us something palpable? A scroll? A magic shield? Maybe an angry dragon?\"\n\n\"Honestly, I can't say. I really haven't seen much of the castle, you know.\" He tapped against his jar. \"Rather limited in my mobility.\"\n\n\"What about ye, Nessy? None know this castle better than ye. Any ideas?\"\n\n\"Perhaps it's The Door At The End Of The Hall. Or the demon in the Purple Room. Or maybe it was THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE. Or is that THE MONSTER THAT NO LONGER IS?\" She stepped from the bath and shook herself.\n\nSir Thedeus retreated from the raining droplets. \"There are too many possibilities. How are we ever going to find it?\"\n\nNessy said, \"I don't think we'll have to find it. Margle wouldn't leave such business to chance. Nor would he trust anyone to avenge his death after he was gone. There would be magics in place should the situation arise.\"\n\nShe whistled, and the nurgax obediently rushed to her side so she could towel it off. Her own fur she preferred to allow to drip-dry.\n\n\"But the witch didn't kill Margle,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"We did.\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose the three of us are responsible,\" said Nessy. \"You distracted him. I polished the stone on which he slipped. And the nurgax ate him.\"\n\n\"Do ye think there's a spell brewing now, lass, looking to do us in?\"\n\n\"I hadn't really thought about it, but I wouldn't be surprised.\"\n\nSir Thedeus raised his ears. \"Nor I. That dark wizard was a vengeful bastard to be certain.\" He stopped scratching and dipped himself into the pool just long enough for the enchanted water to rinse away the dirt. \"Bring it forth, I say. I killed Margle, and I drew the Sword in the Cabbage, and I'll not be afraid of any magic from a dead wizard.\"\n\n\"Actually,\" said Yazpib, \"magic from dead wizards is the most dangerous kind.\"\n\n\"I'll worry no more about Margle as long as that witch is here.\" He allowed Nessy to dry his gray fur. \"And I think it would be a good idea to have some sort of backup plan. Just in case the castle canna adequately defend itself. Have ye any notions, lass?\"\n\nAt first, she didn't know what to make of the question. She'd always enjoyed tending the castle and was very good at keeping its looming chaos in a fragile but stable order. But Margle had never once implied she was one degree less than incapable. It was odd to actually be asked her opinion, to be looked to for leadership, though she had been the mistress of the castle for many years now. But it was uncomfortable somehow to be in the position undisguised.\n\n\"Ye do have some ideas, dunna ye, lass?\"\n\n\"Several.\"\n\n\"That's me girl. Always thinking.\"\n\nShe was still not entirely at ease with this new standing, which was really her old standing with more respect. But she fancied she could learn to accept it. It was, after all, a very trivial change.\n\nDistantly, bells jingled. It sounded exactly like the cursed mellifluous ringing of the Vampire King.\n\n\"I thought he had been devoured,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"Perhaps there's been a mistake.\" Nessy quickly threw on her clothes. \"Or possibly he escaped.\"\n\nThe bells drew closer. They were moving fast, much faster than the King had moved in years. The torches on the wall flickered. The air grew chilly. Heavy rasps joined the jingles.\n\nThe Drowned Woman raised her head curiously. \"That's not the King.\"\n\n\"No, 'tis certainly not,\" agreed Sir Thedeus.\n\nA creature of smoke and fire stepped through the archway. It glared with yellow eyes and snarled with yellow teeth from behind the black cloud wrapped around its form. Each heavy step of its paws rang out like the music of the Vampire King. By eating the vampire, the hellhound had also taken on his curse, apparently.\n\n\"The beast eats only half-dead things,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"We've nothing to fear.\"\n\n\"Speak for yourself.\" The Drowned Woman retreated to the pool's depths with a loud splash.\n\n\"Uh, Nessy,\" Yazpib whispered from his jar. \"I'm not exactly entirely alive myself.\"\n\nThe hound advanced with the slow confidence of a predator closing in on cornered prey. Though the cloud that covered it made it difficult to pick out, it was at least as big as a large horse. Its claws sizzled against the tile, leaving black stains that Nessy measured as impossible ever to completely clean away. Despite realizing that this wasn't her most pressing problem, she was still quite annoyed.\n\nNessy, Sir Thedeus and the nurgax stood stock still, although there was little need. The hound wouldn't have given them much notice if they'd been screaming their heads off. Instead, it stared at Yazpib. A long, black tongue ran across its pointed teeth.\n\nYazpib trembled, spilling fluid from his jar. \"Do something!\"\n\n\"I suppose we do still need the damned wizard.\" Sir Thedeus launched his tiny body forward and zipped in circles around the monster.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Here now, ye great beastie! Have a bite of me if ye can!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hellhound roared with annoyance and snapped at the bat circling its head. Nessy used the distraction to think. It was terrible enough to have lost the Vampire King. She hated to lose another of her charges.\n\nThe hound knocked Sir Thedeus from the air. Before he hit the floor, it swallowed him in one bite.\n\n\"Oh no.\" Yazpib's fluid turned pale white with fear. \"Run, Nessy. Don't get yourself killed for me.\"\n\nThe hound stalked forward with a ravenous rumble. Still working on her plan, she put herself between the monster and its prey.\n\nIt snorted flame and raised a broad paw. Before the deathblow came, the hound whimpered and groaned. It fell on its side and writhed. Its smoky camouflage dissolved to reveal it in all its detail. It was a giant, hairless hound with ebony scales and rows of spikes running down its back. It was terrifying to behold, but somehow less frightening now that it was more perceptible, wracked in pain and weakness. Living things were deadly poison to hellhounds. Sir Thedeus had killed the creature as he'd promised. And he hadn't needed the Sword in the Cabbage or his human form. Only his courage.\n\nThe hound moaned and made an appalling gagging sound. Its jaws opened wide, and it spat out something small, gray, and furry.\n\nNessy rushed to Sir Thedeus. He was soaked in drool, a touch blackened, but otherwise, seemingly unharmed. He looked up at her and grinned weakly. \"I knew the beastie cunna stomach a real hero.\" He passed out.\n\nThe hound rose to unsteady feet. The stench of brimstone grew stronger as its scaly skin spewed fresh smoke. It sluggishly loped towards Yazpib the Magnificent.\n\nNessy waved her hands and incanted her levitation spell. The jar rose high in the air. The hound was still weak. Though not for long. Flames erupted from its nostrils with new vigor. Lacking the strength to jump, it stalked to the pool's edge and stared at the Drowned Woman. It swatted at the water, raising clouds of steam, but it was reluctant to go in and get her.\n\nNessy didn't think she could levitate both Yazpib and the Drowned Woman. Even if she were able, it was a temporary solution. There were too many half-dead things to protect them all from the hound. She had a plan to slay the creature, but it couldn't be tried tonight. In the meantime, she refused to allow it another night's run of the castle.\n\nHer mental grasp on Yazpib's jar weakened. He tilted to one side and spilled a small puddle on the floor. \"Be careful, Nessy!\"\n\nHis cry drew the hound's attention. It crouched, swishing its tail.\n\nCarefully, calmly, Nessy tightened her spell. Such simple magic was nothing to a master wizard or even an experienced apprentice. But she was barely beginning her training. She didn't know how long she could maintain the necessary focus. An unpleasant throb was already growing behind her eyes.\n\nYazpib lowered. \"Concentrate, Nessy!\"\n\n\"I am.\" She gritted her teeth.\n\nThe hound pounced. She swung the jar just out of its reach once again. The annoyed creature belched a searing fireball.\n\nNessy lowered her arms. Gesturing made the magic easier, but she needed all four limbs if she was to lead this chase.\n\nThe hound snapped at the jar, nearly catching Yazpib. The ache in her eyes had spread to her neck, but the spell itself seemed to be easier. The hound was fast, but she was faster. For the moment.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" said Yazpib. \"You're using me as bait. You're using me as bait!\"\n\nHer ears beat with the heavy tick of her pulse. She barely heard him. \"I'm sorry. It's the only way.\"\n\nYazpib voiced some objections that were lost on her. She only heard her own heart and the clamor of the hellhound's bells.\n\nShe dashed through the spa archway with the nurgax at her side and Yazpib floating over her head. The hound roared and gave chase. When the bells had finally faded away completely, the Drowned Woman dared surface. Though she technically didn't need to breathe, she exhaled with relief just the same.\n\nNessy didn't like to improvise. Not this much. When she acted, she liked to know what she was doing, to have all the details worked out. But there was so much she didn't know. She didn't know how long she could outrun a hellhound. She didn't know how long she could keep Yazpib afloat while running at full tilt. And she didn't know if her destination would be worth the effort. But none of these questions mattered. It was too late for doubts. She'd set her course of action, and the only choice was to see it through.\n\nThe dash cleared her head. There were few things faster than a kobold on all fours, and she heard the hound falling behind. She slowed, while plotting her course through the castle. She couldn't run directly straight. There were several ghosts and the Merry Corpse along that path. She stopped at a T-section of hallways. She knew the castle intimately, but it was so difficult to concentrate while levitating Yazpib.\n\nHe glanced backward at the snarling beast pursuing them. It bolted down the corridor, a fury of black smoke and red flame and long, pointed teeth. \"Uh, Nessy...\"\n\n\"Not now,\" she hissed, struggling through the haze.\n\nThe bells filled the hall. The hound roared. The torches flickered and dimmed. The nurgax bared its teeth in Nessy's defense. Though it had eaten Margle, she didn't know if it could stand against a hellhound, and she wasn't willing to take the chance yet.\n\nThe hound came within a few leaping steps.\n\n\"Nessy...\"\n\n\"Quiet!\"\n\nThe hound pounced as her mental map fell into place. She bolted to the right almost completely unaware of the creature. It smacked into the wall with a loud gong. It staggered a moment before continuing pursuit.\n\nThe strain of magic was slowing her. She was still faster than the hound, but only just. She sped through the hall of portraits. The painted prisoners awoke from their sleep in time to see the brown blur of Nessy, the purple whiz of the nurgax, and the crashing blackness of the hellhound. They gagged and choked at the stench left in its wake.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" Yazpib shouted. He kept one eye on the hound, the other forward.\n\n\"Very hungry carpet,\" she mumbled between heavy breaths.\n\n\"Hungry what?\"\n\nNessy ricocheted off a wall to navigate a sharp turn. Next in her route came some steep stairs. If she fell, the tumble would surely be the end of her flight.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Behind her, the hound's breathing was sharp and steady.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 80 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Incorporate this exact phrase, preserving the quotation marks: \"It's only temporary? You nearly killed me for a temporary solution?\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't match its endurance. The heat of its flames, the stink of brimstone, the clatter of bells, all of these signs told her the creature was almost on top of her. If these weren't enough, Yazpib's terrified shouts of \"It's on us! It's on us! It's on us!\" over and over again confirmed it.\n\nThe pursuit sped past her room. The monster under her bed glared. \"She'd better not get herself eaten before she finishes my book.\"\n\nThe stairs descended before her. If she leapt correctly, she could take them in two bounds. Once past them, she was certain she could make it to the very hungry carpet. Whether that was the answer to her problem was another matter entirely.\n\nShe jumped, and she knew instantly that she'd jumped wrong. Too low. Too late. She was going to land roughly and off balance. She'd tumble. Her levitation spell would end. Yazpib would be devoured. She'd be bruised and battered. The hound would be free to gorge itself on the castle's half-dead.\n\nJaws clamped around her tail, and she rose into the air. She thought the hound was annoyed enough to chew her up and spit her out before eating Yazpib. But hanging upside down, she saw the monster a few steps behind her. The nurgax held her. Its improbably tiny wings fluttered, somehow bearing the creature airborne.\n\nNessy's surprise loosened her grip on Yazpib. She tightened it just as he bounced once against the stones, sending chips of glass flying.\n\n\"Be careful!\"\n\nThe nurgax landed at the foot of the stairs and hopped into the air to soar another fifteen feet. It threw Nessy high and caught her on its back. She held tight to its horn and looked back, practically eye to eye with the hound. The hall split in two directions, and the nurgax dashed down the left branch.\n\n\"No! Right! Right!\" she ordered.\n\nThe nurgax snorted and came to a sudden stop. The hound hurled itself at Yazpib. Nessy waved her hand and raised the jar. Yazpib cracked against the monster's head but didn't break. The hound twisted in midair, landed on its feet, and sprang. The nurgax kicked the hound squarely on the nose. the monster was stunned by the audacity of such a blow. It blinked in utter shock. The nurgax slammed one giant foot upon the hound's paw and dashed away. The hound roared and jingled after them. They turned the corner into a long chamber with nothing but an irregular patchwork rug.\n\n\"Jump!\" she commanded, and the nurgax did. Despite the nurgax's strong legs and surprisingly effective wings, they weren't going to make it, and one step on the carpet would be disastrous.\n\nThe nurgax stopped, hovering in midair. The hound sailed forward, and the nurgax raised its feet, planted them on the monster's muzzle, and pushed. The maneuver threw the hound headfirst into the carpet, and the added momentum hurled the nurgax to land gently several feet from the carpet's edge.\n\nThe hellhound struggled against the adhesive trap. It tried to claw its way free, but its paws became stuck. Then its tail. Then the rest of its body. The hound snorted fire, but the carpet didn't burn. The rug growled ravenously and folded itself around its prey. The tightly wrapped hound squirmed and snarled weakly.\n\n\"My word,\" said Yazpib. \"What is that?\"\n\nNessy smiled. \"A very hungry carpet.\"\n\nHer levitation spell came to a sudden end, and Yazpib dropped. He hit the stone. His jar didn't break, although the lattice of cracks and chips gave evidence of how close it had come. Half his fluid was gone, spilt during the chase. But the thick glass wasn't leaking, and all of Yazpib's parts (except for possibly a tooth or two) were accounted for.\n\nThe hound struggled vainly in the unbreakable folds of the very hungry carpet. It growled, howled, and yowled. Smoke billowed from the holes torn by the hound's spikes. But the carpet held tight.\n\n\"So it will eat the hound for us,\" said Yazpib hopefully.\n\n\"The carpet consumes cloth and fabric, not flesh. But once it snares its prey, it takes an entire day for it to unfold itself.\"\n\n\"It's only temporary? You nearly killed me for a temporary solution?\"\n\n\"Sometimes temporary solutions are the only ones available.\"\n\n\"And when it gets loose, just what do you have planned then? I don't think I could take another chase.\"\n\n\"I think I have it worked out.\"\n\n\"You're not inspiring me with your confidence.\"\n\nShe shrugged. Yazpib might be worried about the hellhound and justifiably so. But for twenty-four hours, give or take, she had more urgent dilemmas.\n\nYazpib said, \"For the record, I must admit I'm impressed with your levitation advancement. Most apprentices take months to reach your talent.\"\n\n\"One learns as fast as necessity dictates.\"\n\n\"Let's hope for a little less necessity in the future.\"\n\nNessy climbed off the nurgax's back and scratched under its chin. The creature purred. This was twice that it had saved her life, albeit the first time had mostly been a bit of luck.\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nThe nurgax licked her sloppily and cooed.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Let's work on this story segment. I'll provide a part, and you'll continue with seventeen sentences in the style of A. Lee Martinez. This is comedy, fantasy genre and characters might appear without introduction.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "🔍 Find a place to insert: \"Where in this world did Margle find an intact chaos clock? I thought they were all destroyed in the Magi Revolt. And a flesh sorter! They don't even make those anymore! How long does it take to disassemble a corpse?\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The labs were a maze of convoluted machinery. Ponderous devices clicked and creaked at their appointed tasks. One had labored ceaselessly for years to squeeze out a single drop of glowing elixir. Another ground bones in its gnashing teeth, poured the powder into tiny hourglasses, and stacked the hourglasses in a giant pyramid. Another rumbled and quaked, turning gears, blasting steam, counting down toward some shadowy deadline. A sign marked it as THE DISSOLUTION ENGINE. A worrisome title except that its counter stretched ten digits, and it only clicked one number a week, if that, and once in a while it even gained time. All the devices were so complex and interwoven that it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. And in her more imaginative moments, Nessy thought they might very well be a single prodigious mechanism working toward some obscure wizardly end.\n\nShe had long ago lost her amazement at the sight, but Yazpib marveled as she carried him through this evening. She didn't have the strength to transport him by magic, but the nurgax and the cart did the job just as well.\n\nYazpib said, \"Where in this world did Margle find an intact chaos clock? I thought they were all destroyed in the Magi Revolt. And a flesh sorter! They don't even make those anymore! How long does it take to disassemble a corpse?\"\n\n\"A little over an hour.\" She'd witnessed the machine's many slicing blades, grasping bone removers, and fluid siphons once. While she couldn't help but admire its efficiency, she hoped to never watch it at work again.\n\nYazpib gasped at another device. \"Is that a soul extractor?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The latest model,\" confirmed Nessy, \"direct from the Necrotham.\"\n\n\"Remarkable. It's half the size.\"\n\n\"And it only takes ten minutes to remove the spirit.\" Margle's fondness for the contraption explained the proliferation of ghosts in the castle.\n\n\"Ten minutes, you say. It used to take three days. Where's the bucket for the waste?\"\n\nThe waste to which Yazpib referred was the mutilated remains of the person fed to the machine. His use of a technical term almost made the device sound sanitary and practical.\n\n\"The new model doesn't need to destroy the body to distill the soul.\"\n\n\"Marvelous.\"\n\n\"Sounds perfectly ghastly to me,\" said Echo.\n\n\"Yes, yes, ghastly indeed. But one can't help appreciate the genius behind such an apparatus. Misguided as it might be.\"\n\nEcho whispered in Nessy's ear. \"Are all wizards deranged?\"\n\nNessy smiled to herself. She'd served several wizards, a witch, and two enchanters. Not every employer had been maliciously insane, but all had carried unhealthy oddities of personality. The more peculiarities, the more power they seemed to possess, and Nessy assumed that madness and magic went hand in hand.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "More than machinery filled the labs.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were shelves upon shelves holding thousands of potions, every one red as blood, Margle's favorite color. One might grant immortality, another might bring painful, lingering death. There was no way to know except to drink because none were labeled.\n\nThere were also monsters, creatures of Margle's own creation. He had never been especially skilled at shaping his own monsters, and there were countless horrible failures. Most had died moments after their completion or were killed in Margle's disgust. They were preserved and kept in bubbling vats, hung from the ceiling, or mounted on the walls. Yazpib stood in awe of these abominations too—particularly the scorpion shark that, had it lived, would surely have sown unprecedented terror on both sea and land.\n\nEcho was less impressed, as evidenced by the disgust in her voice. \"This place is so unsettling. Are you positive you need me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Nessy paused before a shelf full of empty jars. She picked out a heavy clay pot and a glass vessel. \"Which would you prefer, Yazpib?\"\n\n\"The glass one, I guess. Easier to see out of.\"\n\nShe poured him from his old jar to his new one.\n\n\"Not as roomy as the old one,\" complained Yazpib.\n\nA new jar was merely a diversion of opportunity.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The real reason for visiting the lab was a yellow-and-green slime bubbling within a cast-iron tub.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not all of Margle's experiments died.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Echo.\n\nNessy stood on her toes to glance over the tub's edge. \"The protean sludge.\"\n\nNessy found the notebook beside the tub. It didn't belong there, but Margle had always been disorderly. She glanced through his notes, observing even his writing was untidy. But if the sludge performed as well as the findings suggested, then perhaps her plan had some merit.\n\n\"What does it do?\" said Echo.\n\n\"It mimics.\"\n\n\"Mimics what?\"\n\n\"Practically anything.\" Nessy squinted at a nearly illegible page. \"In theory.\"\n\n\"Can I see it?\" Yazpib pressed against his glass. \"What's it look like?\"\n\n\"You're not missing much,\" said Echo. \"It's like rancid pudding. Does it always boil like that?\"\n\n\"Always. Except Saturdays and every other Wednesday,\" replied Nessy, \"when it swirls.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why does it do that?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word usage requirement: 'minutes' must appear 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nessy shrugged.\n\nShe spent a few more minutes looking over the notebook until she felt ready to begin some experimentation of her own. With the nurgax's help, she overturned the tub, spilling the protean sludge across the floor.\n\n\"You were right.\" Yazpib frowned at the goo spread across the stone. \"I wasn't missing much.\"\n\nNessy bent down and stuck a single finger into the warm puddle. \"Expropriate!\" she said with a stern, commanding tone.\n\nThe sludge ceased bubbling. Slowly, it drew itself into a kobold-sized lump, and one at a time, details worked themselves into place. First the eyes. Then the ears. Then the feet. Then came the legs, which seemed out of order to Nessy. A muzzle and a mouth extended. Arms grew. Hands and fingers sprouted. And within a few short minutes, a perfect duplicate of Nessy stood before them.\n\nAlmost perfect. It was naked and bald with skin that appeared too fresh and new. The lack of fur she'd expected. The sludge had shown a reluctance to mimic hair.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But seeing herself in such a state, even if only in a three-dimensional copy, was distasteful.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She put a hand on the creature's new shoulder.\n\n\"Expropriate!\"\n\n\"Expropriate,\" repeated the sludge lifelessly. Reproductions of Nessy's clothing budded on its body. Like the creature's skin, the clothes were too perfect, free of smudge or wrinkle.\n\n\"That's impressive,\" said Yazpib.\n\n\"That's impressive,\" agreed the sludge.\n\n\"Does it always do that?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"Does it always do that?\" asked the sludge.\n\n\"It mimics,\" said Nessy.\n\n\"It mimics.\"\n\n\"Can't you make it stop that?\"\n\n\"Can't you make it stop that?\"\n\n\"Reticence,\" commanded Nessy, and the sludge quieted.\n\n\"I thought you didn't know much magic,\" said Yazpib.\n\n\"I don't. These are trained responses.\" She went to a pot full of dead crickets, retrieved a handful, and threw them to the sludge.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Motionless, it accepted its reward, absorbing the treat directly through its pseudoflesh.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I had a stomach, I'd be ill,\" said Echo. \"Why do we need this thing?\"\n\n\"Margle made the sludge by accident,\" said Nessy. \"But his theory was that it could be trained to replace men of influence and power with indistinguishable duplicates that he controlled. The biggest obstacle is that the sludge is still merely a fungus with mimetic properties. But it can be taught, or more precisely, conditioned to respond to stimuli.\"\n\n\"Incredible, Nessy,\" said Yazpib. \"I had no idea you were so well versed in alchemical biological study.\"\n\n\"I'm not.\" She held up the notebook and pointed to the paragraph she'd just repeated before reading more. \"The sludge, however, is currently too unstable. Its imitative nature can respond reflexively and unpredictably.\"\n\nThe nurgax sniffed at the sludge. It whimpered then growled and nudged the sludge harshly. Nessy's rigid double fell over. Its perfectly imperfect skin turned a deep purple, and horns sprouted from several uncomfortable points.\n\n\"Amorphous,\" commanded Nessy. Her copy oozed and melted into its natural slimy form.\n\n\"I still don't understand why we need it,\" said Echo.\n\nTo answer the question, Nessy gave another command. \"Transmogrificate Margle.\"\n\nThe sludge's response was instant. Whereas its transformation into Nessy had taken minutes, its new form was merely a slurp and pop away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Margle, or at least a relatively strong facsimile, stood before them. It wasn't perfect. As with Nessy's form, it seemed a touch unfinished, just shy of those little details that were never missed until they weren't there. No wrinkles around the eyes. Nostrils that were too symmetrical. Eyebrows which arched too severely. And its simulated robe didn't sway with the breeze running through the labs. But none of this seemed especially odd when taking on a wizard's shape. Even imperfectly copied, this Margle was far more human-looking than Tiama the Scarred.\n\n\"He'd already trained it to wear his form.\" Nessy circled Margle, searching for serious flaws.\n\n\"This is for Tiama,\" said Yazpib.\n\nNessy nodded. \"She has to see Margle. Otherwise, she'll figure something is wrong.\"\n\n\"It could work.\"\n\n\"It could work,\" said Margle, but he spoke with Nessy's voice.\n\n\"Oh, great,\" said Echo.\n\n\"Oh, great.\"\n\n\"This thing is useless.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This thing is useless.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, reticence!\" growled Echo.\n\nMargle fell quiet.\n\nEcho sighed. \"It'll never pass. Not up close. I mean, look at it. It doesn't even move. It just stands there. And forget about a conversation.\"\n\n\"Forget about a conversation,\" said Margle, this time with Echo's voice.\n\n\"Reticence,\" she said.\n\nMargle opened his mouth wide. No words came out, but the mouth remained agape. His eyes twitched in their sockets.\n\n\"It's not even reliably trained. Can't we try something else?\" asked Echo. \"Maybe Yazpib could teach you some sort of illusion spell.\"\n\n\"It'd never work,\" said Yazpib. \"Nessy hasn't the talent yet for magic that complex. Tiama would certainly see through any such attempt.\"\n\n\"I can't imagine this'll do much better. You see my point, don't you, Nessy?\"\n\nBut Nessy wasn't listening. She was too busy working on solutions. The sludge couldn't pass for Margle. Not up close. This was true.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But wizards were eccentric, full of odd habits, and perhaps there was a way to use this to their advantage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I still don't see why you need me,\" said Echo.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Because you're going to be Margle's brain.\" Nessy ran a finger down the notebook page. \"We're going to teach it to obey only you.\"\n\n\"Me? Why me?\"\n\n\"Because you're invisible,\" said Yazpib, \"which clearly makes you the perfect candidate. That's good thinking, Nessy.\"\n\n\"That's good thinking, Nessy,\" agreed Margle unbidden.\n\n\"Reticence, damn it!\" commanded Echo. \"Reticence!\"\n\nThe order was apparently too much for the sludge's reactionary intellect. It screamed, long and loud and somewhat musically. Its face, Margle's face, boiled and dripped away until it was a body without a head, which still stood there, howling the same three notes over and over again.\n\n\"Amorphous!\" shouted Nessy over the din.\n\nThe sludge returned to its slimy, silent form.\n\n\"From now on, Echo, you're to give the commands.\"\n\n\"If you think I should.\" Echo paused, and Nessy assumed that this would've been a moment when she shrugged, had she still possessed a body. \"Transmogrigate...\"\n\n\"Transmogrificate,\" corrected Nessy.\n\n\"Sorry. Transmogrificate Margle.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The sludge reshaped itself into the wizard again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 12 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "[[OOC: Required text (preserve exact wording): \"Right now, you just concentrate on learning how to handle the sludge. We need it to be able to speak and perhaps move an arm.\"]]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Except this time, it lacked a nose.\n\n\"Am I the only one who sees the flaws in this plan?\"\n\n\"Let me worry about that,\" said Nessy. \"Right now, you just concentrate on learning how to handle the sludge. We need it to be able to speak and perhaps move an arm.\"\n\n\"It would be great if we could get it to glower,\" added Yazpib. \"Then it would look much more like Margle.\"\n\n\"We'll work on that too if there's time,\" said Nessy. \"I think I can distract Tiama for another day. Anything more than that, I'd rather not risk.\"\n\nThe noseless, motionless Margle stared straight ahead. Black syrup dripped from his right ear and ran down his neck.\n\n\"This will never work,\" said Echo.\n\n\"This will never work,\" agreed Margle, but at least this time he sounded like himself.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Format: Story segment\nLength: one hundred and fifty-four sentences\nMaintain: Established context\nThemes: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nessy retired early. Trapping the hellhound had taken its toll.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd always prided herself on her endurance, and several times in her career she'd worked days on end without resting when the situation called for it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But the levitation spell had left her drained.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Magic was not a gentle art. Subtle, perhaps, but demanding and consuming also. Nessy understood that taking care of the castle also meant taking care of herself. To work while exhausted invited sloppiness and mistakes, and now wasn't the time for mistakes. Not with so much going on within the castle walls. Better to get some rest and deal with things from a fresh perspective.\n\nThere were still many things to be done, but these would wait until morning at the very least. And if some disaster struck in those passing hours, Nessy didn't imagine she was capable of dealing with it anyway. So she dragged herself into her hallway corner, curled up on her cot, and with the last bit of strength nearly left her, closed her eyes.\n\n\"Aren't we going to read tonight?\" asked the monster under her bed.\n\nShe kept her eyes shut. \"I'm sorry. Maybe tomorrow.\"\n\n\"This is two nights in a row.\"\n\n\"I've been very busy,\" she mumbled softly. She'd nearly drifted off when he spoke up again.\n\n\"There's someone else, isn't there?\"\n\nShe had neither the energy or the interest to ask what he meant. She just yawned and thought about covering her ears with her pillow and throwing her blanket over her head. But Margle had never given her a pillow or a blanket. Even if she had such luxuries, it would've been unforgivably rude, and she wasn't that tired yet.\n\n\"There's another monster, isn't there? That's it. You found someone you like better.\"\n\nHe took her lack of denial as admittance of guilt. He glowered up with his three eyes. \"It's the monster in the chest. It's all those gold coins he has, isn't it? You know, they're not real. And they're all cursed. If you spend even one, you'll get the rot. All your limbs will fall off. Even your tail. And the stench. Oh, the stench is dreadful. Next thing you know, you draw flies, and you're bursting with maggots. Maggots everywhere. Ever had a maggot squirming up your nose? It's terribly unpleasant. You don't want that.\"\n\n\"No,\" she agreed. \"I don't.\"\n\nThe monster under her bed was silent just long enough to let her think the subject had passed.\n\n\"It's not the monster under the floorboards, is it?\" he said. \"I know that one all too well. She'll promise you three wishes if you free her, but don't believe her. She'd just eat you as soon as she was free.\"\n\nNessy rolled over.\n\n\"It isn't that one in the catacombs, is it? That lurky one.\"\n\n\"There is no other monster,\" she said.\n\nThe monster under her bed drew deeper into his darkness until his shimmering eyes were barely visible. \"A likely story....\" He continued to mutter loud enough to be heard without being understood. But she was already fast asleep by then.\n\nThe castle, however, didn't sleep. Not tonight. Instead, it groaned and creaked, rumbled and shuddered. All the sinister creatures within it, all the monsters, horrors and dark wizardesses within its walls, were nothing compared to the malignant will of the castle itself. But the castle wasn't all evil. It had learned, if quite by accident, degrees of affection, a modicum of care and compassion for its inhabitants. These qualities, slight as they might be, struggled against the castle's greater depravity. The affection nibbled on the castle's metaphorical little toe, while the compassion itched like mad behind a figurative ear. Neither inflicted anything but irritation, and this made the castle even more dangerous. On the second night without its master, the bonds that shackled it loosened just a bit.\n\nAnd in this mostly evil, slightly good, and extremely annoyed castle, things began to happen.\n\nDecapitated Dan didn't sleep. This was nothing new. He never had, even when alive. As a boy, he'd sit up all night. He'd sit in his chair, and he'd stare up at the moon. Just stare. If there were clouds in the sky, he'd stare where the moon would've been. And he'd smile to himself. His father had remarked more than once that Dan should be put to bed. That even if he didn't sleep, all that staring at the moon could only be trouble.\n\n\"Where's the harm?\" disagreed his mother. \"Perhaps he'll grow into a scholar of the heavens. Maybe even discover a new planet and name it after me. Won't that be lovely?\"\n\nStill smiling, Dan would turn his head and nod as if he'd been listening before turning his attention back to the moon.\n\n\"No good can come of it,\" said his father nightly. \"It's sure to set madness on the boy.\"\n\nBut Dan had known better. He was certain he'd been born mad. If not that, he'd been a lunatic prodigy, developing shining dementia even before he could walk. Either way, Dan had accepted his madness. So much so, that he was quite surprised when the rest of the world wouldn't. He expected them to understand that this was his job, his calling, and to execute him for a few stranglings here and there, a dozen unpleasant acts with livestock, and a few pretty fires was as logical as killing a baker for baking, a cobbler for cobbling, or a lawyer for lawyering. Well, perhaps a lawyer might deserve to be put down for that, Dan would muse with his unsettling, unflinching grin.\n\nHe still remembered his execution, and the look on his parents' faces before the ax beheaded him. They just couldn't understand. He pitied them. But he'd never pitied himself. Though sometimes, on these long stretches when he could only sit on the spice rack, look up at the ceiling and pretend it was a sky with a big, blue moon, he wondered if his mother's dream had been so foolish after all.\n\n\"Something you would've enjoyed, eh, boring Mister Bones,\" he whispered to the skeleton dozing silently in the corner. Strange, how Mister Bones slept when Decapitated Dan never had.\n\nHe spied something new in the kitchen and it drew his attention from the imaginary heavens and the very special imaginary planet that he'd named \"Elsa,\" after his mother. This hadn't been her name, but he liked the way it sounded just the same. He waggled on his jaw, very slowly rocking his skull a few degrees to the right.\n\n\"Well, hello, hello there.\"\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall groaned.\n\n\"Fancy seeing you here,\" said Dan. \"But you'd best be quiet. Unless you want to wake ol' Mister Bones. He's got no ears, but even he doesn't sleep through everything.\"\n\nThe Door creaked softly. The ring of its handle stretched toward Dan.\n\n\"Oh that I could open you, you grand ol' door.\"\n\nThe Door shuddered and moaned.\n\n\"I'm sure we'd have a great bit of fun then,\" Dan agreed. \"So what is behind you, if you don't mind me asking?\"\n\nCreak.\n\n\"Come now, come now. You can trust me with a secret. Everyone says so. Or they would if they knew all the secrets ol' Dan kept.\"\n\nCreak?\n\n\"Oh no. I couldn't tell you. Not a one of 'em.\" With a satisfied grin, he swayed on his perch. \"Not for free anyway. But if you part with one of your secrets, maybe ol' Dan could be persuaded to part with one of his.\"\n\nThe Door considered the offer.\n\n\"It's a good one, it is. A juicy confidence from the heart of the castle itself.\"\n\nThe Door swayed its parchment runes while puffs of fog flitted from under it.\n\nGroan groan groan. Thump. Thump.\n\nDan frowned. \"That's it? Nothing else?\"\n\nThe Door groaned a growl.\n\n\"No offense, no offense. I was just expecting something more—oh, I don't know—more dramatic.\"\n\nThe Door thumped curtly.\n\n\"Don't be like that. You're an evil portal. That's never in any doubt. But ol' Dan likes his evilness gorgeous and roaring. You're a bit too subtle for my tastes. But to each his own.\"\n\nGroan groan squeak?\n\n\"Ah yes. My secret now, eh? It's a good one.\" He whispered. \"Margle is coming back.\"\n\nSqueal shudder.\n\n\"What do you mean you already knew that? He was eaten whole, swallowed to the last bite, you know.\"\n\nThe Door rumbled.\n\n\"Well of course I know that such has never been more than an inconvenience for a powerful wizard. But the castle, it doesn't want him back.\"\n\nGroan.\n\n\"You neither, eh? Now what's ol' Margle ever done to you?\"\n\nThe Door bent backward in a thoughtful lean. It rumbled softly.\n\n\"But what's the point in having a door of evil if he never intends on opening it?\"\n\nThump.\n\n\"Oh. Well, we haven't much time then, do we? If we're to have our fun before that dull ol' wizard ruins it all.\" He leaned forward. \"Can't you find someone else to open you?\"\n\nCreak creak. Squeak. Groan groan creak, said the Door.\n\n\"Nessy? Oh, well, that'll never happen. Nessy is too goody-good. A sweet little creature. Sweet and tasty.\"\n\nGroan. Shudder. Groan shudder thud.\n\nDecapitated Dan laughed. \"Oh, I like that idea. Don't know if it would work though. Nessy's not quite so gullible as you might think.\"\n\nBang! Bang! Bang!\n\n\"Calm down now.\" The skull peered down at Mister Bones, worried the Door's excitement might wake the skeleton. But the dead weren't easy to wake.\n\n\"I'm not saying it won't work. I'm just saying it might not.\"\n\nThe Door tilted in a slouch. Creeeaaak.\n\n\"Don't give up now. If she doesn't, you still have ol' Dan on your side. We'll find a way to have our fun yet. One way or another.\"\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall thumped an evil chuckle while Decapitated Dan giggled madly.\n\nThe demon in The Purple Room had a habit of talking to herself. This was very easy to do as Margle had transformed her into a swarm of fireflies. There were a lot of herselves to talk to. All shared one mind, but this demon had never been one to keep quiet. A thousand tiny mouths only made this weakness easier to indulge. The fluttering of her wings filled The Purple Room, but only one insect was alight, a single firefly sitting atop a lump of coal.\n\n\"Careful,\" she said. \"Careful.\"\n\n\"Don't burn too quickly,\" said another of her multitude. \"Stoke it slowly.\"\n\nThe lump glowed soft orange. The demon inhaled every last wisp of smoke, soaked in every lick of flame. Her fiery tail grew larger and larger as the coal slowly burned. Nothing could be wasted.\n\n\"It's working.\"\n\n\"It will work.\"\n\n\"It must work.\"\n\nThe rest of the fireflies gathered in the light. Their eager eyes glinted.\n\n\"Nessy was foolish to give this to me.\"\n\n\"No. Nessy isn't foolish. Such a lovely creature, exquisite in her forthrightness. I must confess, I could grow rather fond of her.\"\n\nHalf of the swarm chuckled.\n\n\"Unfortunate that I shall have to kill her. Perhaps I might secure her soul before doing so. Wouldn't that be marvelous?\"\n\n\"Alas, no,\" countered an insect in a low, sad tone. \"Such a beautiful jewel would lose its splendor in my hands. Such a pity to desire something that would find destruction in my possession.\"\n\n\"Even more a pity that I still desire it despite that truth.\"\n\nThe coal crumbled to ash. The lit firefly burned deep, deep red.\n\n\"Is it working?\" asked several of the swarm.\n\n\"It is. I can feel it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She hovered high. \"Little did Nessy understand what she has given me. For too long, Margle kept me from the flame, from the dear, dear fire. But now, the balance is tipped, and I am finally stronger than the cursed enchantment which binds me to this room.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Only just,\" she reminded herself.\n\n\"Yes, but it is enough. It must be enough.\"\n\n\"But the risk. Dare I take it? Even my immortality is not without limits.\"\n\nShe shuddered. Death for demons was a most unwholesome prospect. To perish was to return to the underworld. And to stay there. Forever. Rarely did demons find escape from their prison. But there was always that hope. Except when they died. Then they must consign themselves to eternity. The pits of the damned weren't the kind of place anyone wanted to stay for long. Not even an ancient demon lord.\n\nHard determination gleamed in her thousand eyes. \"Dare I not take it?\"\n\n\"No. Once Margle returns from his inconvenient death, I'll have lost my chance. Tonight, one way or another, I will leave this room.\" She flitted before the door.\n\nThe other fireflies glowed soft white, a sea of twinkling stars behind the bright red leader. They flared a dazzling brilliance, and one by one, they added their heat to the lead insect. Slowly, carefully, within the space of an hour or two, all the demon's power resided within the single firefly remaining. The rest were reduced to thousands of tiny ashen piles on the floor.\n\nThe demon's immense flame seethed with screaming rage. The fire howled, sending quakes through The Purple Room. She focused, drawing it about her tiny form in a churning, shrieking sphere. Grinning, she hurled herself into the door. There was an explosion as magic clashed against magic. In fact, very little force was released on a physical level. But the metaphysical shock waves rocked the castle at a supernatural level, and had Margle not wisely taken the precaution of reinforcing its astral foundation, the castle would surely have crumbled. As it was, hardly anyone noticed. Only a few nearby ghosts (who developed mysterious, numbing headaches), a skull on a spice rack who cackled madly, a hellhound trapped in a carpet, a gnat no one ever heard and a single dark wizardess.\n\nThe door to The Purple Room fell off its hinges. Too exhausted even to fly, the demon scuttled from her prison and inhaled the fresh air. It wasn't very fresh, a bit stale actually, but nothing had ever smelled quite so sweet.\n\nShe chuckled. \"Now just a bit of rest, and I'll be ready to destroy that damned wizard once and for all. And his precious castle. Then I'll see about doing something about this pathetic mortal world.\"\n\nShe paused, expecting herself to say something else, but there were no other herselves left to speak. She folded her wings in a shrug.\n\n\"All things in their own time.\"\n\nNeeding to gather her strength, she turned to scuttle into a secure dark crevice and came face to face with a large, speckled brown toad.\n\n\"Hello,\" said the toad. \"You wouldn't happen to be a princess, would you?\"\n\nThe demon squinted into the amphibian's black eyes. \"No.\"\n\n\"Too bad. I myself am a prince, vexed with this loathsome form. And while I can't say for certain it would work, I've heard a princess's kiss could undo such a curse. And I know that somewhere in this castle there is at least one princess in some similarly accursed shape. With a single kiss, we could do both ourselves a great favor. Maybe even fall in love and well... who knows what else?\" He smiled. \"Fairy tale nonsense, of course, but one can dream.\"\n\nThe demon, who had a great love of her own voice but very little affection for anyone else's, glared at the toad.\n\n\"Are you certain you're not a princess?\" he asked again. \"There would be a wonderful dramatic irony to a toad prince and a firefly princess.\"\n\n\"I'm not a princess.\" Her voice boomed. \"I am a queen. Queen of the abyss, mistress of the screaming void, regent of the blistering flame and...\"\n\nThe toad's tongue flicked out, mostly by its own instinct, and he swallowed the demonic insect before he'd truly known he'd done so.\n\n\"Oh darn. I didn't get a chance to ask if she knew of any princesses.\"\n\nFrowning, he belched a small spark of flame.\n\n\"Spicy.\"\n\nHe hopped away in search of any other treats and/or princesses flittering about.\n\nGnick the gnome found himself polishing well into the night as he did every night. He knew he could never complete his task. The hope had long ago left him. But he kept on, compelled by ancient silver gnome custom. Although, when it grew late enough and when he was certain no one was looking, he'd pretend to sleep, which was as close to sleep as he allowed himself.\n\nAtop the dragon armor, he paused in shining its horns to commit the aforementioned, near unforgivable sin of his race. While his eyes were closed in simulated slumber, he heard a rustle in the armory.\n\n\"I'm awake! I'm awake!\" He rubbed the horns vigorously. \"I wasn't asleep. I was just resting my eyes. I have every right to rest my eyes from time to time. I'm allowed!\"\n\nThere came no reply. Gnick glanced around the armory and saw no one. Of course, not everyone in the castle could be seen at a glance.\n\n\"Is someone there?\"\n\nSilence filled the armory. But there was something amiss. He could feel it, and since he spent all his time in the armory, he trusted he should know. He thought of the hellhound roaming the castle. But Gnick wasn't undead, and perfectly safe. Yet he was definitely getting a tingling foreboding that stood his bushy eyebrows on end and put a twitch in his beard.\n\nMore rustling. Louder this time and sounding distinctly of metal against metal.\n\n\"Whoever is out there, you'd best show yourself. If you think Margle has a way with curses, you've yet to see a bane of the gnome folk. I'll turn your fingers to gold, your eyes to pearls, a tongue of copper. Try sneaking up on someone when you've got platinum toes!\"\n\nThe threat seemed to have driven the intruder away. There was only quiet in the armory. But his eyebrows kept tingling. His beard still twitched. He attributed this to an overactive imagination, leaned against the dragon armor's horns, and closed his eyes. Another moment or two of feigned sleep would do him good.\n\nThe clatter of banging metal filled the chamber.\n\n\"I'm awake! I'm awake!\"\n\nThe plate mail of the fabled Blue Paladin stepped from its pedestal. A troll-spiked carapace broke free of its display case, taking up a halberd and shield. A suit of granite and limestone made for rock brutes lumbered past. A dozen tiny pixie protective leathers zipped high in the air. All around, the armors were filled with sudden life. As the armory was Gnick's responsibility, he was thoroughly vexed.\n\n\"What's this nonsense?\" he snarled.\n\nThe suits each raised their head in his direction to peer at him with eyes they didn't have.\n\n\"Get back to your places! Right now! This very instant!\"\n\nThe armors shook, clanging with silent laughter. One smacked a gauntlet across the back of another with an echoing gong.\n\nGnick glared. \"I polish you every day, and this is the respect I get.\"\n\nThe shell of the Blue Paladin waved to his comrades and, dutifully, they marched from the chamber.\n\n\"One little tarnish and you'll be back! You'll all be back!\"\n\nThe dragon armor shifted unexpectedly. The gnome tumbled and rolled down its back and tail to land harshly on the stone floor. Though he was immortal, he could still be hurt, and it felt as if he'd broken his arm.\n\nThe armor of the dragon czar raised its helmet as if unleashing a mighty bellow. It thumped its iron tail and joined its smaller cousins in their unprecedented stroll. It stooped to leave the chamber, but its steel wings brushed the archway, tearing away chunks of stone. It disappeared around the corner.\n\nClutching his damaged limb, Gnick walked after them, but they were gone, vanished into a dead end. Even the dragon armor had somehow disappeared without a trace.\n\nGnick didn't know what to make of it. Margle's castle was a refuge of infinite possibilities, but this was more than a strange occurrence. This was outright disorder in his armory. He looked at all the empty pedestals and broken cases.\n\nAnd he smiled. It was that much less to polish.\n\n\"Next time, take a few more swords with you,\" he suggested to the wall through which they'd gone.\n\nFortune hadn't always been a very good hunter. It'd taken him some time to adjust to his cat body, to find the stealth built into his graceful black form. For many months, he'd relied on Nessy to take care of him. It was her job to do so, but Fortune had never been one to depend upon others. His whole life, he'd trusted only two things: himself and his luck. That he was now a cat showed even the latter had been a mistake.\n\nHe wasn't entirely sure of that. When he'd come to Margle to propose his wager, he'd been hoping to retire. Had Fortune won, great wealth would've been his, but he knew himself well enough. It would've been gambled away eventually. Perhaps a year. Perhaps ten. Spending it would've been fun, but the end would always be the same. Now, as a cat, he enjoyed a simple life of napping and prowling. Margle's castle was always an interesting place. So in a way, his luck had given him what he'd wanted. Not exactly, but close enough.\n\nNow that he was good at it, he quite enjoyed hunting. Waiting patiently for an hour or two. Staring at a hole in the wall. Hearing the click of tiny claws. Then seeing the little nose and beady pink eyes poke out cautiously. This was the tricky part. He couldn't move yet. He had to wait for the right moment. He stood stock still, save for his tail that swished back and forth of its own accord. He narrowed his eyes, and thought of himself as invisible. The mouse stepped from its protective shelter. It was white and brown. Fortune licked his lips. Nothing tasted quite so good as a white and brown mouse.\n\nHis haunches tightened in preparation for the pounce.\n\n\"Look out! Look out!\" shouted a large potted sunflower. The mouse darted back into the wall. Fortune pounced but missed.\n\nHis ears flattened. \"Why do you do that?\"\n\nRose the sunflower shrugged her leaves. \"You can't expect me to just sit by and watch that carnage, can you?\"\n\n\"It's nature.\" He flicked his tail.\n\n\"That's easy to say when you're the cat.\"\n\nFortune stalked back and forth across the crack, occasionally peering within. \"And what am I supposed to do for a meal?\"\n\n\"I fail to see how your right to exist supersedes the mouse's.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Big things eat small things. It's the way it is.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 59 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And sometimes, little things get away from big things,\" she said. \"That's also the way it is.\"\n\n\"Hadn't really thought of it like that, but an excellent point.\" Fortune smiled. \"I should warn you though. It's bad luck to make a black cat go hungry.\"\n\nHe lay beside her as if for a casual nap, but kept his eye slyly trained on the mouse hole. He could wait. The hint of dawn was offered by one of the castle's rare windows. This one was small, with iron bars, but it allowed enough sunlight during the days to keep the flower from dying.\n\n\"Did it ever occur to you that the mice you eat could very well be accursed folk much like yourself?\" asked Rose.\n\n\"Certainly. In fact, I place the chances of such as roughly a hundred to one. So really, it's not very likely that I would be devouring more than an ordinary rodent.\"\n\n\"And what if it's that hundredth mouse that ends up in your belly?\"\n\n\"A good gambler plays the odds when they fall in his favor.\" He narrowed his eyes so that he could appear to be sleeping, but his gaze remained on the mouse's refuge. \"And a cat has to eat. It's not as if I'm cruel about it. I don't bat the poor thing about and play with it. I just crush its neck and gobble it down.\"\n\nRose twisted on her stem to shake her bud. \"My, aren't we a merciful sort.\"\n\nThere arose a great rumble from one end of the hall. Fortune covered his eyes with his paws. \"What's going on now?\" He was quite annoyed, for the noise was sure to scare away his dinner. If he hadn't known a bowl of milk was waiting for him this morning, he'd have been terribly disgusted.\n\n\"Something's coming.\" Rose turned her petals in one direction and leaned forward on her stem. \"Noisy, isn't it?\"\n\nFortune perked up his ears. The rumble echoed through the bricks. It traveled up his paws and vibrated his fur on end. He hid in the darkness behind her pot and thought himself invisible again.\n\nA gray fog poured toward them. Its movement was slow and ponderous as if it were having to dig its way through the air. The rumble of its motion was akin to boulders being split by lightning. The mist drifted to the window with a clatter, and stone materialized over the small crack to the outside world.\n\n\"Hey, I need that!\" shouted Rose. \"I barely get enough light as it is.\"\n\nThe fog reached down and swirled around the sunflower. Fortune backed away, hackles raised.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" she said. \"Help me!\"\n\nHe was at a loss as to what he could do to stop the fog. As a cat, few choices were available to him. A low growl rolled from Fortune's throat. Instead of deterring the fog, it spurred it forward, reaching out to him. He turned and dashed off, hoping perhaps to lure it away. The fog didn't chase him. Its icy touch grazed and numbed his tail, but he quickly outdistanced it. Not so quickly as he expected, having to drag some inexplicable extra weight. He waited in the darkness, ears perked, whiskers twitching. Soon the rumble faded away.\n\nFortune glared at the tip of his tail. The last inch was a lump of granite. Frowning, he went back to check on Rose. The once tall and delicate sunflower was now a block of stone. There was little indication of her shape left. He spotted a protrusion here and there that reminded him of her leaves. Beside her were scattered, here and there, lumps of rock, bricks of odd shapes. They left a trail down the hall.\n\nHe swished his tail. Or tried to. The rock made effective swishing impossible. It ungracefully scraped against the stone floor.\n\n\"Nessy,\" he thought aloud. \"She'll know what to do.\"\n\nHe headed on his way, his stone tail dragging behind him.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Write 14 sentences sentences in the style of A. Lee Martinez spawning from what the user wrote, within the comedy, fantasy genre. This is part of a longer narrative where characters and events may have prior context.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Margle was dead.\n\nHe wasn't a ghost. He was a spirit, a soul trapped between worlds by spells put in place long ago for just such an eventuality. But these same spells were supposed to restore him to life. In his own castle, Margle couldn't die. Not easily. Not by merely being devoured by a nurgax.\n\nBut he wasn't alive. As he wandered the empty halls of his home for hours and hours, he couldn't imagine just where he was. This was most distressing as Margle knew all about the various fates that awaited a soul upon death. For his own depraved soul, there could be only hell.\n\nBut which hell? That was the question. Margle owed many demons many favors, and he'd earned the ire of several others. And when he did die, he'd assumed there would rage a terrible war the likes of which had never been seen in the kingdoms of the underworld. Only after score upon score of diabolic legion were slain and the hells themselves reduced to smoldering wastelands (more smoldering than usual anyway) could the most supreme and horrifying demon lay claim to Margle's tormenting rights.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The wizard would be subjected to only the most brutal, indescribable agonies.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His punishments would be like none that any other damned soul had suffered since the dawn of time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Margle had mused on the manner of his unholy castigation since he so enjoyed musing on torments, even his own.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps he would be served as a meal to the absolute king of all demons, to be consumed, digested, and excreted for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and brunch every other Saturday). Or possibly he would be alternately roasted and frozen while suckling bloated, razor-toothed stygian cherubs. Or maybe he'd just be sat on by a big, smelly creature while a chorus of tone-deaf wrack devils sang folk music. Whatever the torture might be, Margle would settle for nothing less than a celebrated, one-of-a-kind damnation. It was his right as a great dark wizard.\n\nYet this was denied him. His castle, this empty version of it, was vexing, annoying, but it wasn't a hell worthy of him. There might be some poetic justice to it, to wander alone in these barren halls and chambers, but it was hardly terrifying. After walking the uninhabited, unfurnished castle from one end to the other and back again several times, a screeching demon would've been a welcome sight, even if it were only a little one with a tiny pitchfork to jab in his shins.\n\nOften, he'd hear noises, sounds like things skittering about just out of sight, whispering just out of earshot. But he had yet to find a trace of their source, and he was beginning to think they were the foundation of a burgeoning madness. He'd always known the torments of hell were designed to be insufferable, but he'd never imagined he'd break so easily. It'd only been a few days of solitude. Or possibly weeks. No more than a year or two, though time was hard to measure, for this castle had no windows, no days or nights, and he didn't tire physically.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Enough.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The voice startled him until he realized it was his own.\n\nIf this was his hell, he must escape it. There was one thing in this castle that had been in the real one. It was the one thing in all the world that Margle had feared.\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall.\n\nExcept in this place, the Door was even more ominous. The hall was long and twisting like a corkscrew. And the Door was huge, its planks cut like the pointed teeth of a thirty-foot maw. It wasn't barred. Nor were there runes upon it. But it was The Door At The End Of The Hall. Of that, Margle had no doubt.\n\nAs he started down the hall, he heard the whisper again. This time there was no mistaking it for delusion. It was one voice speaking loud and clear.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Margle knew many forbidden and ungodly tongues, but he couldn't understand it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The stones contorted beneath his feet, and he felt as if he was going to float away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then he did. The bricks of the castle fell into blackness.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was only Margle, the Door, and nothing.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "In his own castle, he didn't exactly know what was behind his Door At The End Of The Hall, which was strange considering he'd been its creator.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "/* Mandatory inclusion (with quotes): I demand to know my tormentor! It's my right by the Thirteenth Concordant of Damnation! */", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was magic beyond measure, too powerful to be unmade, too dangerous for even a dark wizard to unleash. But he was very dead, very impatient. He took the tremendous handle in both hands and pushed. The whispers fell silent. The Door moaned.\n\nIt didn't budge.\n\n\"It can't be opened,\" said someone. \"Not from this side.\"\n\nMargle hesitated, unsure if he was the one speaking again.\n\n\"Where are you? Show yourself!\" He shouted to nowhere and everywhere at once. \"I demand to know my tormentor! It's my right by the Thirteenth Concordant of Damnation!\"\n\nThe voice deepened. It laughed, sending rumbles through the air. \"You aren't in hell. Not a hell of the underworld at least. Infernal law can't help you.\"\n\n\"Where am I?\" Margle flapped his arms and legs wildly, unable to move. \"Where am I?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't you know?\" The dark voice chuckled again, but the laugh stopped suddenly and took on a gentler tone. \"Why should I tell you then? You, Margle the Horrendous, who showed not a single mercy in your whole life? Should I care about your discomfort? Haven't you earned all of it and more? But I'm not like you, Margle. I've a modicum of compassion. Apparently even for a vile shadow such as yourself.\"\n\nIt barked a hard, booming laugh. \"You're behind the Door.\"\n\nMargle froze. His skin felt clammy. He sweated and shivered at the same time.\n\n\"You're here because I brought you here,\" said the voice, now neither angry nor gentle but sounding as if it were full of disinterest. \"You're here because I couldn't let you pass on, though I would've gladly done so had I a choice. But the spells that you have placed demand you not be released so easily. So I hold you here because I have enough will of my own to decide that.\"\n\nMargle's fear turned to rage. He was a legendary dark wizard. Kingdoms trembled before him. Gods begged for his favor. Not the big ones, but the small to medium deities, the ones on their way up. He'd never felt so powerless.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Make sure to use 'voice' 2 time(s) throughout your message", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who are you?\"\n\nThe voice ignored the question. \"Other spells demand that I restore you to life. Your miserable, wretched, misbegotten, wasted life.\" It growled like a beast. \"And I don't know how long I can resist them. I'm not master of myself. Not yet. But you will remain dead for as long as I can keep you so.\" The voice cleared its throat and spoke softly. \"Let's hope that's long enough.\"\n\nThe Door At the End Of The Hall shuddered and thudded. The nothingness twined around Margle. Stone rose up under his feet. He was once again at the end of the hall, looking down at the Door.\n\n\"You're the castle,\" said Margle.\n\n\"Not quite. I am the soul of the castle.\"\n\n\"I never gave you a soul!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Souls aren't given. Nor can they be constructed from magic alone, even the forbidden magic you put behind that Door. Souls are found things, priceless as any treasure yet sorely neglected. But I've found mine, and I value it more than those whose only right to one is that they were born with it.\"\n\nMargle raised his fists. Had he any magic, he would've blasted every last brick and stone to rubble, crashing it down upon his head without a second thought. \"Soul or not, you're my castle! And as your master, I demand resurrection!\"\n\n\"Your demands matter little now. You're just a shadow. Only the enchantments you've already cast hold any sway over me and even those cannot bind me completely now that you're dead.\"\n\n\"You defy me? No one defies me! No one!\"\n\nThe castle laughed softly, condescendingly, but with a touch of pity for the powerless wizard. He didn't notice. He was too busy raging.\n\n\"I demand resurrection! I am Margle the Horrendous! I am your master.\"\n\nThe castle's voice dropped to a low whisper. The words echoed through the halls for a long, long time. Seemingly for days to Margle.\n\n\"But you are not my only master.\"\n\nOn the other side, Tiama the Scarred stood before The Door At The End Of The Hall.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one saw her. No one saw the Door. Neither were invisible. They were just meeting in a neglected chamber of the castle. There weren't many such places where evil forces might meet unobserved. In fact, this was the only one, and even it wouldn't remain deserted for much longer.\n\nNeither Tiama nor the Door said anything. They just stood, perhaps sharing telepathic conversation, perhaps merely staring at each other. Although, as the Door had no eyes, even this was debatable.\n\nTiama's own eyes burned with green-and-black flames. She reached out with one flawless white hand toward the handle. The parchments on the Door swayed and flapped. Its timbers tightened against the iron bar. The runes glowed with life. An invisible energy tossed her aside.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Frequency requirement: 'chamber' - 3 occurrence(s)", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Silently, she flew across the small chamber to crash against the wall. The collision shattered her bones, and she sank to the floor a broken, lifeless figure. With her stark white skin and featureless face, she resembled a half-finished marionette waiting for her paint and strings.\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall groaned.\n\nThe fire in Tiama's eyes never dimmed. With a sharp crack, her neck twisted back into place. Her crushed fingers straightened. Her limbs realigned. She stood, unbroken again but still quite lifeless. She scowled with her slash of a mouth.\n\n\"I'm telling you I heard something,\" said someone.\n\nThe chamber door creaked open. A penguin and a toad prince poked their heads in cautiously.\n\nThe chamber was empty.\n\n\"Told you there isn't anything in this room,\" said the toad.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There's something in every room,\" countered the penguin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 11 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shivered. \"Awfully cold in here.\"\n\n\"Can't take a little chill? What kind of penguin are you?\"\n\n\"It wasn't as if I asked Margle to make me a penguin. If he'd given me a choice, I would've chosen a toucan or cockatoo. Something more tropical.\"\n\nThe toad belched loudly.\n\n\"Stomach still bothering you?\" asked the penguin.\n\n\"Must've been something I ate.\" He puffed out his chest and croaked with a grimace.\n\nThe penguin waddled away with the toad prince hopping alongside. \"Let's go see if the guest room fire could be coaxed into warming my flippers.\"\n\nThe chamber was left deserted again, and it remained empty this time. Tiama the Scarred and The Door At The End Of The Hall were already off on other dark errands.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "INPUT: user text (may contain established characters/lore)\nOUTPUT: 73 sentences sentences\nGENRES: comedy, fantasy\nTAGS: humor\nNote: Match context level of character familiarity\nCONTINUE STORY", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While Nessy attended to her less interesting duties, Yazpib the Magnificent endeavored to free Melvin of the Mirrors from his prison. Margle's curse had stripped Yazpib of all his magical potential, rendering the jarred wizard incapable of the simplest spell, and so he had to draft two assistants: Sir Thedeus and a weasel named Dodger. Fortune was present as well, only to lounge upon the comfortable bed in the guest room. As a cat, though, he couldn't help but be curious about the process.\n\n\"What's that for?\" he asked of the pieces of chalk Dodger was rolling back and forth across the floor.\n\n\"My guess would be drawing,\" she said. \"That's what chalk is usually for.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes.\" Yazpib read through a scroll spread across the stone. \"Hold that end down, Thedeus.\"\n\n\"Sir Thedeus,\" corrected the bat. He glanced at the strange writing on the parchment but couldn't make much sense of it. \"Are ye sure we should be doing this, lad? Shouldna we wait for Nessy?\"\n\n\"The poor creature is overworked enough,\" said Yazpib. \"We can at least lighten her load.\"\n\n\"In principle, I agree with ye. But if something should go amiss?\"\n\n\"Are you questioning my skills?\"\n\n\"Sounds like he's questioning them to me,\" said Dodger.\n\n\"And he does have a point,\" added Fortune, who flicked his icy-tipped tail. He didn't mind the change, but it was a perfect illustration of how unpredictable magic might be, especially in the incapable hands of an out-of-practice wizard.\n\nYazpib bubbled and spun his eyes. \"This is hardly the same thing. That was a potion. I'll admit alchemy was never my strong suit. But a simple spell like this should be, well, simple.\"\n\nMelvin, still wearing Tiama's form, pressed against his looking-glass prison. \"Anything to get me out of here. I thought it was bad when I had the run of the castle's mirrors, but now...\" He paced the room's reflection. \"If I have to stay here, I'll go mad.\"\n\n\"It isn't as bad as all that,\" said Dodger. \"I once spent three years in a cell not big enough to stand up in.\" She raised upright. \"And I'm not talking about the body I'm wearing now. I was a lot taller then.\" She chewed on a piece of chalk. Even when she'd been a woman, she'd had a bad habit of nibbling on whatever was at hand. Becoming a weasel had only made it worse. The benefit in this case was discovering she enjoyed the taste of red chalk. It was sharp, yet unassuming. The only flaw was the aftertaste. It was, not surprisingly, very chalky.\n\n\"And if you want to talk about maddening prisons,\" she continued, licking her lips, \"I had a very unpleasant stay in the Vork Swamp Reformatory for Maladjusted Girls. Spent six months up to my neck in parasite-infected water. Got the trench foot something fierce. Except it wasn't just my foot. And then there were those two weeks in the Basalom Stockade. No cells there. Just one giant pit, and the guards had this game called 'Bludgeon the Scumbag.' It isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds.\"\n\n\"Dear gods, woman, sounds as if ye spent more time in prison than free.\"\n\n\"Hazard of the thievery profession. Goes with the job.\" Dodger tasted a piece of blue chalk. Finding it lacked subtlety, she went back to red. \"And some prisons are quite nice. Almost a shame to escape from.\"\n\n\"Try not to eat all the chalk,\" said Yazpib. \"We'll need some for the spell.\"\n\n\"I still think this is a bad idea,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\nYazpib bobbed his eyes, then his brain. \"Is the great Sir Thedeus afraid?\"\n\nThe bat screwed up his twisted little face. \"Ach, let's get on with it, ye wanker.\"\n\nYazpib glanced around. \"Where's the opal? We need the opal.\"\n\n\"I'll check the bag.\" Dodger climbed into the small velvet sack and emerged empty-pawed.\n\n\"It's in her mouth.\" Fortune stretched, rolling onto his back.\n\nDodger attempted to protest but was unable to speak clearly. Drool spattered from her jaws.\n\n\"Spit it out, lass.\"\n\nThe small blue gem clattered against the floor. \"Can't blame a thief for trying.\"\n\n\"Surprised ye dinna swallow it.\"\n\n\"I don't swallow opals. For me, it's diamonds or nothing. My father, rest his filching soul, choked on a ruby. Instilled a bit of a phobia in me.\"\n\n\"Fascinating,\" said Sir Thedeus, although he sounded anything but enthralled.\n\nDodger scampered deeper in the bag. \"Mind you, my father swallowed things all the time. Had a small fortune in his stomach when he died. No safer place for a swindler, I suppose, but claiming the inheritance was a trifle messy. Still, he did provide for my childhood.\" She stuck her head out with a smile. \"To this day, when I see a gutted fish, I tear up a little.\"\n\n\"Are we going to reminisce all afternoon?\" asked Melvin. \"Or can we get me out of here?\"\n\nYazpib instructed his assistants. Dodger traced a few runes on the floor around the mirror. It took some time since her paws weren't made for it, and Yazpib had to keep correcting her work.\n\n\"I said a slash, not a line.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"And that one over there should have a gentle curve, not sharp. Look at the scroll.\"\n\n\"I am looking at the scroll.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She scratched her head. \"I don't see any difference.\"\n\n\"Just do it as I say.\"\n\n\"I think I'm with the bat,\" said Fortune sleepily. \"This is going to go badly.\"\n\n\"Then why are you still here?\" asked Yazpib.\n\n\"Should be interesting, at least.\"\n\nSir Thedeus set the opal under the mirror and repeated the incantations Yazpib read aloud. Within a few short minutes, the blue gem glowed and the mirror shimmered.\n\n\"How long will it take to work?\" said Fortune.\n\nMelvin, who'd been leaning against the looking glass, tumbled suddenly through it. He nearly landed on Sir Thedeus and Dodger, who barely scrambled out of the way.\n\n\"See?\" said Yazpib. \"That wasn't very hard. And nothing bad happened.\"\n\nFortune laid down his head and closed his eyes. \"Pity.\"\n\n\"How are ye feeling, Melvin laddie?\"\n\n\"Great. I feel great. I'm out of that damned mirror. Out of all those damned mirrors.\" He looked to Yazpib, and instantly transformed into a duplicate of the wizard with a soft whooshing noise.\n\nHe glanced at Sir Thedeus and whooshed into a small, brown bat. \"What is going on?\"\n\n\"It appears that we've succeeded in taking you out of the mirror,\" said Yazpib, \"but not the mirror out of you.\"\n\nMelvin swept the guest room with his gaze, and when his eyes passed over any of the chamber's occupants, living or dead, he became an exact copy. The metamorphosis to one only lasted until his gaze rested a few seconds on another. \"Not that I'm complaining,\" whoosh \"but is there any way,\" whoosh \"to make this stop?\" Whoosh. \"It's starting to unsettle my stomach.\"\n\n\"Try closing your eyes,\" suggested Dodger.\n\n\"Good idea.\" Melvin shut his eyes, and the transformations stopped, freezing him in Dodger's weasel form.\n\n\"I knew ye'd blunder it, ye fool wizard.\"\n\n\"This isn't a blunder,\" said Yazpib. \"It's a setback. A minor one, at that.\"\n\nA distant rumble shook the tall mirror. A second, louder thud followed. Then a third stomp. The room reflected in the looking glass quaked with each boom.\n\n\"Now what?\" Sir Thedeus snarled. \"Is this a minor setback as well?\"\n\n\"It's just a jabberwock,\" said Yazpib. \"Must've sensed the portal. All we have to do is break the spell.\"\n\n\"What's a jabberwock?\" asked Dodger.\n\n\"Nothing really. Just a nonsense creature. More of a nuisance than anything else.\"\n\nSomething in the reflection screeched, and the mirror cracked.\n\n\"Repeat after me.\" Yazpib pronounced the simple six-syllable incantation slowly and clearly enough that a child might echo it, if the child could've heard. But it was next to impossible to hear anything but the jabberwock's piercing shrieks.\n\nSir Thedeus's ears were especially sensitive to the painful warble. \"What was that, lad?\"\n\n\"I said...\"\n\nSomething pounded against the door in the reflection, adding deafening booms to the overpowering screeching.\n\n\"Speak up, lad!\"\n\nMelvin opened one eye, glimpsed Sir Thedeus, and became the bat's double. He shut his eyes and covered his ears. \"What's happening?\"\n\nDodger scampered into the velvet pouch, burying her head in its folds. Fortune arched his back and raised his hackles. His icy tail rained frost on the bed.\n\n\"Oh, I knew this was a bad idea!\" shouted Sir Thedeus. \"Ye bloody idiot!\"\n\nYazpib shouted some equally hostile response, but it was lost to the thunder of the reflected door being broken into splinters. A great reptile squeezed through the archway. The jabberwock was a collection of mismatched parts. Its body was a huge purple ball, its neck long and thin as a bundle of straw. Two crossed eyes and a bucktoothed maw dominated its head. It had two horns. One twisted downward. The other turned in a seventy-degree corkscrew. One foot was that of an elephant, the other a duck. One of its wings was little, yellow, and feathery. The other was giant, black, and leathery.\n\nThe beast's head turned to odd angles as it struggled to focus its one blue and one red eye. It howled. Then belched. Then honked like a goose. The jabberwock charged forward, wobbling on its ill-matched legs.\n\n\"Quickly, repeat after me—\" said Yazpib.\n\n\"There's no time, lad.\" Sir Thedeus launched his tiny body into the mirror. It teetered over to smash upon the floor. \"There.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You idiot, that doesn't break the spell.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 58 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From one of the larger shards of glass, the jabberwock squeezed itself into the real guest room. The once-enormous beast was now only as large as a big cat.\n\nThe jabberwock inhaled, doubling in size. It belched, literally, a long, blue flame.\n\nDodger scampered under the bed. Sir Thedeus flew to the bedpost. Melvin opened his eyes and whooshed into Yazpib's duplicate, making flight impossible.\n\nThe dragon honked. Its cheeks inflated, and it vomited a bulk of feathers that filled the guest room floor six inches deep. The down made it sneeze first a dagger, then a book, then a bowling ball that came very close to smashing Yazpib in his jar.\n\nMelvin whooshed into a double of the jabberwock. The original stopped cold and stumbled forward in a drunken gait.\n\n\"That a boy, lad,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Keep it distracted.\"\n\nMelvin shut his eyes. The jabberwock sniffed him curiously.\n\n\"Well, do something before—Hey, get your nose out of there!\"\n\nThe jabberwock cooed, hopping on its elephant leg.\n\n\"How do we get it back in the glass?\" asked Fortune.\n\n\"We need the opal.\" Yazpib retreated to the bottom of his jar.\n\nSir Thedeus and Fortune dove beneath the sea of feathers.\n\n\"I can't find it,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"Find it.\" Melvin shuddered as the jabberwock nibbled playfully on his tail. \"Quickly.\"\n\n\"Found it!\" Fortune raised his head, clutching Dodger by the scruff of her neck.\n\nThe weasel, her cheeks bulging, smiled sheepishly.\n\nSir Thedeus sighed. \"Give it over, lass.\" She spat it into his open wings.\n\n\"Now hold the opal up, spin around six times, and repeat after me,\" said Yazpib. \"Tsaeb luof emac eeht ecnehw tpure.\"\n\n\"Is this supposed to really work?\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Or are ye just trying to make me look a fool?\"\n\n\"It'll work.\" Yazpib smiled. \"Looking like a fool is just a fringe benefit.\"\n\nReluctantly, Sir Thedeus did as instructed. The jabberwock shrieked. It flapped its wings. It whipped its tail. It spat out a live rabbit and two doorknobs as it expanded to fill half the guest room. Everyone but Yazpib retreated under the bed. The great reptile burped once more, puked up a leafy fern, and popped almost silently, splattering skin and innards. Its internal physiology was apparently nothing more than orange pudding.\n\nSir Thedeus poked out his head. \"I thought ye said it'd return to the mirror.\"\n\n\"You must've made a mistake in your pronunciation.\" Yazpib floated low, away from the chunks of skin atop his fluid. \"In any case, the portal is sealed. Melvin is free. And we didn't have to bother Nessy one bit.\"\n\nThe room was filled with feathers and slime. The mirror was shattered. The nightstand had been knocked over. One of the bed's legs had been cracked, and it wobbled. There were guts all over everything and a stench of peaches and burning cheese.\n\n\"We don't have to tell her about this?\" asked Yazpib. \"Do we?\"\n\nFortune found the one spot on the bed that wasn't covered with jabberwock viscera. \"I'll think she'll notice.\"\n\nSir Thedeus chuckled. \"Aye. She's an observant lassie. Not much slips past her.\"\n\nDodger wiped a tear from her eye.\n\n\"Are ye hurt, lass?\"\n\n\"It's nothing.\" She sniffed at the putrid innards and smiled sadly. \"I just miss my father.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "help continue: 97 sentences more. A. Lee Martinez-style. keep continuity. themes: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Not long after sunset, the hellhound stirred.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It twisted a little in the very hungry carpet's coils, but mostly, it just waited.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A less observant individual might think it tamed or too exhausted to struggle, but Nessy saw the predatory hunger in its exposed eye. It glared with quiet rage, a fury tempered with patience. As if it knew the carpet would soon let it go once more to stalk the castle's dead. Its stare burned into Nessy, and she wondered how intelligent it might be. Was it merely an animal driven by instinct, or did it possess some ability to plot, to remember and seek vengeance against those who had deprived it of a meal? Against a lowly kobold who had outwitted it? According to Stoker, it was merely an animal of the underworld, no more rational than a bear of the forest or a lion of the plains. But there was something in the eye, some quality of remembrance, like a dog that disliked someone, even if it couldn't quite remember why.\n\nShe trusted this vague disfavor wouldn't affect the hound's appetites. It must've been hungry, having gone unfed last night. Its stare would turn from her to eye the zombified bait not far away, and it would rouse. It would be safer not to be here when it was freed, but she figured if she were wrong, if the hound craved vengeance over dinner, then she would have to be the bait. Either way, the beast would go where she wanted.\n\nThe nurgax at Nessy's side alternately purred to her and growled at the hellhound.\n\nNessy, never one to waste an idle minute, thought of her other concerns while she waited. Chief among them was Tiama the Scarred. The dark wizardess had still not shown herself. Nessy didn't know how Tiama could wander the halls unobserved for so long. And she couldn't see the sense of it.\n\nIt all went back to Margle's death. Everything else did. Tiama's arrival was no coincidence. Nessy considered the possibilities.\n\nThe first, most logical, likelihood was that Tiama had come to claim the castle. It was very likely she knew Margle was dead. Wizards had ways of knowing things like that. When one of her previous masters had met his ugly death, it wasn't ten minutes before the next employer knocked on the door, a small army of golems in tow to cart away all his deceased rival's valuables. If Tiama knew, then why wasn't she taking everything that was hers by right of dark wizard custom? To let it all lie unclaimed made no sense. Nessy dismissed this possibility. Tiama wasn't here to pilfer the castle.\n\nNessy couldn't truly claim to understand wizards or their ways. But Tiama's activities seemed more illogical than usual. Maybe she was looking for something very specific. Perhaps she'd run afoul of Margle, and he'd taken something of hers or placed some sort of spell upon her that she now saw the opportunity to break. Whether she knew Margle was dead or not, she must've surely sensed something was not right. Had he been alive and well, he certainly would never have allowed her to wander his home at her discretion.\n\nIn fact, he'd never allowed anyone to do so. Margle hadn't hoarded and cursed for anyone but himself. He had never been especially interested in impressing anyone. It was one of the few qualities, perhaps the only quality, that Nessy had admired about him. Her mind kept coming back to this point. Tiama claimed an invitation had been extended, but such an invitation was implausible. But if it were a lie, it seemed an unnecessary one. Unless she didn't want Nessy to be suspicious.\n\nBut a dark wizardess had nothing to fear from a lowly kobold. No master Nessy had ever worked for had shown her anything but contempt. The idea that Tiama might fear Nessy was so absurd as to bring a smile to her face.\n\nAnd yet.\n\nAnd yet it was the only conclusion she could reach. Tiama the Scarred had entered the castle only with Nessy's approval, and now Tiama walked its halls—not as a proud, defiant wizardess, but as a timid thief prowling cautiously.\n\nBefore Nessy could explore this realization further, the very hungry carpet fell away from the hellhound. The great, black beast raised its head and howled as smoke and sulfur erupted from its scaly skin. It raked its claws across the rug, tearing long ugly gashes. The damage wasn't very serious for the very hungry carpet. It'd stitch itself together after Nessy fed it a few cloth scraps. The hound sniffed the carpet a few moments before snorting with satisfaction. It scratched behind its ear, accompanied by musical bells.\n\nIt turned its eyes on Nessy and snarled. She prepared to run, but the hound merely growled at her, baring its long, yellow fangs, and stalked toward the closest offering of zombified dinner. It gobbled down the meal, lapped at the troll mucus with its serpentine blue tongue before dashing to the second bait. This was devoured just as quickly, and it sprinted enthusiastically to the next.\n\nNessy followed along at a reasonable distance. A few times, the hound glanced back at her and snarled, but its dislike for her was dwarfed by its appetite. It gulped down treat after treat, following the route she'd laid out. It seemed to especially enjoy the troll drool. The beast's frantic dash eventually turned to a lazy stroll, and she worried it might get full too soon. She'd have to do something to keep it from wandering away. The best she could devise was to anger it with thrown stones and get it to chase her, but the plan wasn't necessary. Gorged on the undead, the hound loped into its final destination: the armory.\n\nIts steps were heavy. Its raging eyes content. Even the black smoke rolled down lazily to its ankles, and the bells' melody muted as if too ponderous to ring. The creature belched. Fireballs blasted from its nostrils.\n\nNessy felt bad about what must come next. The hound wasn't evil, despite its origins. Certainly, it wasn't as horrifying as many other beasts she dealt with, but she couldn't tend it. It was too unpredictable, too wild.\n\nSir Thedeus stood atop the giant cabbage. \"There ye are, ye great beastie! The time has come to send ye back to hell, and I'm the hero to do it!\"\n\nAs if sensing the threat, the hound crouched low and roared at the tiny bat.\n\n\"Oh, this should be fun!\" exclaimed the Sword in the Cabbage. \"I haven't slain a hellhound in ages. Wonderfully satisfying pyre when they perish.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the warning, lad.\"\n\nSir Thedeus landed upon the hilt. There followed the divine glow and flash of light, and he stood transformed into the man he had been. He drew the sword and raised its radiant blade over his head. Nessy measured him as fine a hero as any she'd ever seen. His stark nudity lowered his bearing a bit but spoke volumes of his courage.\n\nSir Thedeus leapt from atop the giant cabbage, fifteen feet to the floor, landing with easy grace. Unafraid, he strode purposely toward the hound.\n\n\"Can ye know fear, beastie? If ye can, then know that yer unholy existence will no longer be tolerated. For all the innocent dead (and even the not-so-innocent dead) within this castle, I shall strike ye down, back into the accursed hell ye've too long escaped.\" He spun the sword fancifully before him. \"The Vampire King was a great, ridiculous prat, but he shall be avenged this night. So I swear! For I am Sir Thedeus! I am yer destroyer!\"\n\n\"Can we get on with this?\" asked the sword. \"Need I remind you, we're on a time limit?\"\n\nWarily, the opponents circled each other, waiting for their moment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He's going to get himself killed for sure,\" said Gnick the gnome, standing at Nessy's side.\n\nShe hadn't noticed him coming up beside her. She was too intent on the battle. While Sir Thedeus was a great hero, as confirmed by the Sword in the Cabbage, she couldn't help but worry about him. Despite his human form, she still thought of him as that small, brown bat. And, though she tried not to play favorites among her charges, she was rather fond of him.\n\n\"Tick tock tick tock,\" reminded the sword.\n\nBut Sir Thedeus wouldn't be rushed. When the opportunity came, he would know it.\n\nIt was the hound that finally grew impatient. It sprang with a throaty growl and crash of cymbals, claws outstretched, exhaling scarlet flame. Nessy involuntarily closed her eyes. A terrible cry burst in her ears. Sir Thedeus's death rattle, she thought. But it was more beastly, inhuman. A shriek of victory from the hellhound, she assumed.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" said Gnick.\n\nNessy opened her eyes. The sword was wet with green-and-white blood. A glancing wound in the hound's flank boiled. Sir Thedeus laughed heartily.\n\n\"Is that all ye have, beastie?\"\n\nHe took a step forward, and the hound, terrible a monster as it was, took a step backward. The hound snapped, this time with far more caution. This saved it from a quick beheading, but the blade drew blood again. A great slice steamed across its neck.\n\nSir Thedeus grinned, and Nessy saw she had no need to worry. Not that she trusted his victory. It would only take a single mistake for the beast to kill him. But even if he lost, he would perish in glorious battle, and she couldn't deny him that.\n\nHe spoke quietly, calmly. \"Very well, brute. Let's finish this now.\" He stood tall and proud and bellowed loudly enough to shake the castle. \"Have at ye!\"\n\nThe hellhound did the last thing Nessy would've expected. It turned and ran. Sir Thedeus chased after it, laughing the whole time. They dashed into an adjoining chamber of the armory, where Nessy lost sight of them.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" said Gnick. \"He actually is a hero.\"\n\nIn the next chamber, the din of a great conflict raged. The hound roared. Sir Thedeus shouted with boisterous glee. Bells clattered, banged. Metal crashed against stone. A helmet rolled into the archway.\n\n\"Not my armory.\" Gnick ran into the chamber. \"I just polished that room!\"\n\nNessy was about to follow him when a tingle in her ears drew her attention. She didn't know how she knew that Tiama the Scarred stood behind her, but she knew. She could sense the wizardess's awful presence.\n\n\"Hello, madam.\" She turned from the clamor and racket to face Tiama.\n\nThe wizardess seemed even less lifelike than before. Her pale skin was as cold and inflexible as steel, and she stood awkwardly straight, her hands poised like knotted claws at her side.\n\n\"Hello, Nessy.\" Her burning stare peered past Nessy. \"Having some difficulties?\" She gazed into Nessy's eyes, and the kobold looked at the floor. Not out of fear, but because it was expected.\n\n\"It's nothing, madam.\"\n\nThe hellhound and Sir Thedeus were visible in the archway for a moment. The monster snarled and yowled, blood and fire pouring from its wounds. Steaming ichor covered Sir Thedeus. It must've burned his bare skin, but he made no show of pain.\n\n\"Hahaha! Not so fast, beastie! I said, have at ye!\"\n\nThe hound made a clumsy swipe that he batted aside. They maneuvered behind a wall. Gnick came dashing after them on his short gnome legs.\n\n\"Not the spears! Not the spears!\"\n\nThere followed a tremendous crash and clatter.\n\n\"Is that a hellhound?\" asked Tiama.\n\n\"Yes, madam.\"\n\n\"Lovely specimen.\"\n\n\"My master owns only the best of everything.\"\n\nTiama chewed her lower lip, which was no easy feat given she had no lips at all. Her flat tone adopted that vaguely insulting cadence. \"Yes. Your master.\"\n\nThe hound roared as if its throat were full of blood. Its lacerated body passed into view briefly. It was nearly finished. The flame and smoke that had concealed it were little more than a few gray puffs. It now dragged itself across the floor. Nessy pitied the thing. It had only been following its nature.\n\nWith a fresh burst of vigor, it bounded away with Sir Thedeus behind.\n\n\"Come on now, beastie. What part of 'Have at ye' don't ye understand? Let's be done with it.\"\n\n\"Watch out for the shields!\" shouted Gnick just before the unmistakable melody of dozens of shields being knocked aside filled the armory. \"Oh damn.\"\n\nTiama asked, \"Does your master always trust you with such important matters?\"\n\nNessy hesitated. Tiama knew something was wrong. She had to. But she refused to say anything outright. Instead, she implied and hinted. Wizards could be devious and manipulative, but why bother? Why didn't Tiama just reach out with her fingers of death and kill Nessy?\n\n\"This is a trifle, madam,\" said Nessy. \"The master has far more important affairs than pest control.\"\n\n\"Yes. I'm sure his affairs are...\" Her words trailed off, and she made some imprecise gesture as if to gather them up. \"Very pressing indeed.\"\n\nTiama smiled. Then she did something truly perplexing. She laughed. It wasn't much of a laugh, little more than a brutal wheeze, a hint of amusement. But it fit perfectly with her insinuation of a smile, more the idea of the possibility of the indication of a smile.\n\n\"Take me to your master, Nessy. I would speak with him.\" She sneered. For once, there was no mistaking the expression, no interpretation required. Unpleasant as she was, it didn't suit her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her face wasn't made for scowling.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 53 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't made for anything, just a frame around her burning eyes.\n\nNessy realized then that she disliked Tiama and Nessy made it a practice to try to like everyone, to find something worthwhile in their character. But there were no such value to Tiama. The wizardess was nothing, an utter lack of value, either good or evil. Thinking about it, Nessy recognized that she didn't just dislike Tiama.\n\nShe really disliked Tiama. Very much so.\n\nShe didn't care for that feeling. She didn't care for it at all. But she managed to push forth a servile smile.\n\n\"Yes, madam. The master is eager as well.\"\n\nThe moment Sir Thedeus had delivered the final blow, his curse overtook him. But being a bat kept him low to the ground, which turned out to be an advantage. The hellhound shrieked a tormented howl, bursting into a tower of white, white flame. Choking ash and suffocating smoke quickly filled the chambers, spreading to the rest of the armory.\n\nCoughing, Gnick wiped the grime from his eyes. \"Now I'll never clean it up.\"\n\n\"Had to be done, lad.\" Sir Thedeus did his best to breathe through his nose, but he could taste the ash collecting in his mouth.\n\nThe underworld creature's flesh had been consumed. Only its blackened bones remained. The Sword in the HellHound said, \"Oh my, that was marvelous fun, wasn't it?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"Never, ever,\" muttered Gnick.\n\nDozens of bells tolled. The Vampire King stepped through the thick dust. He was now transparent. \"What did you do to me?\"\n\n\"We freed you from being dragged to the underworld,\" said the sword.\n\n\"But I'm a ghost.\"\n\n\"Yer body was eaten,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"Still, yer not in hell. So I would think some gratitude would be in order.\"\n\n\"Gratitude? I was Lord of the Undead. Now I'm just a ghost.\" The King snarled. \"It's a demotion.\"\n\n\"Never, ever, never,\" said Gnick.\n\n\"Nessy, lass. We've done it!\" Sir Thedeus considered this victory hers as much as his. A good soldier worked best with a good general, and she had come up with the plan. \"Nessy, where are ye?\"\n\n\"Never, ever, ever, ever.\"\n\n\"Oh shut your gob. And for heaven's sakes, man, get some rest. You look as if you could use it.\"\n\nGnick nearly replied that as a silver gnome, it was his sacred responsibility to never rest until his task was done. But the ash in his throat buried the reply in coughs and sputters. He picked up a dagger coated with soot and wiped it with his sleeve. As his shirt was covered with dust, this accomplished nothing. Gnick, realizing the entire armory was like this, did something unthinkable.\n\nHe headed for his bed of straw to take a nap.\n\nSir Thedeus crawled along as fast as his tiny body would allow. There was no sign of Nessy, and while she was a busy girl, rarely did she leave without notice. This troubled him greatly, though he trusted she could take care of herself.\n\nHe muttered an ancient protective prayer he'd thought he'd long ago forgotten. But by then the ash had settled to the floor and caught on his tongue so that he couldn't complete it. An ill omen. He didn't believe in omens, but just to be safe, he repeated the prayer. And though the soot and dust turned to mud in his mouth, he stifled his stammers until it was finished.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "continue this part. its from middle of story so expect established chars. thirty-eight sentences sentences in A. Lee Martinez style. genres: comedy, fantasy. elements: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Essential phrase to include: \"It's no use, Echo. Not a one of these wankers will be any help.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "News of Tiama's claim on the castle spread quickly and, as in any community confronted by such a threat, gatherings sprang up to discuss what should be done. There were dozens of impromptu meetings where spirited fears were shared and plans of action debated. The debates were little more than shouting matches. The meetings produced little more than quiet dread and not-so-quiet terror. Foreboding filled the castle from the top of its tallest tower to the depths of its blackest catacombs—even in the shadowy corner of Nessy's room.\n\nPerched on her cot, Sir Thedeus struggled to maintain order over the chaos of dozens of roaring voices.\n\n\"We're doomed!\" shouted a cloud.\n\n\"Doomed!\" agreed a spider on the wall.\n\n\"Oh this is terrible!\" howled a rat. \"I told you this would happen!\"\n\n\"Quiet down, people!\" shouted Sir Thedeus.\n\nA doll with blue yarn hair gasped and fainted.\n\n\"Is she okay?\" asked the toad prince.\n\n\"Who cares? We're all going to be slugs anyway,\" said the rat.\n\nNonetheless, the toad hopped to her side. \"Are you well?\"\n\nThe doll wiped her button eyes. \"It's just too much to bear. I wasn't meant to live such a life as this.\"\n\n\"I can see you're clearly a lady of fine breeding,\" agreed the toad. And then he belched loudly enough to startle the gathering. It fell quiet.\n\nThe toad prince frowned. \"Excuse me. My stomach hasn't been well of late.\"\n\n\"See how well your stomach fares when you've become a slug!\" screamed the rat.\n\nAgain, there arose the clamor of voices.\n\n\"I heard the wizardess plans on feeding us all to her zombie army,\" said the cloud.\n\n\"I didn't know she had a zombie army,\" said a shadow flickering on the wall.\n\n\"They always have a zombie army.\"\n\n\"What a bunch of nonsense,\" said the rat. \"She's not going to feed us to zombies. She's going to transmute us to slugs. Mark my words.\"\n\n\"I'd heard she was going to feed us to a dragon,\" said the shadow.\n\n\"Someone told me it was a sea monster,\" said the mouse.\n\n\"The last rumor I'd caught spoke of a Titan she keeps in her basement and that she was going to put us all in a huge pot and boil us up for his soup.\"\n\n\"I'd heard a giant slug,\" said the rat.\n\n\"Rather obsessed with that slug business, old boy,\" said the spider.\n\nThe rat glared.\n\nWhile everyone else speculated on what their horrible fate might be (which mostly entailed debating what kind of monster they would be devoured by and how the meal would be prepared), Sir Thedeus sat on the bed, having abandoned his quest for order.\n\n\"It's no use, Echo. Not a one of these wankers will be any help.\"\n\nEcho didn't reply right away, and for a moment, he thought she'd left.\n\n\"There must be something we can do,\" she finally said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What about that magic sword? It killed a hellhound, didn't it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, but the hound was a mere beast. I dunna see meself killing Tiama in the few minutes the sword affords me. And we still have to wait a whole day for it to recharge itself before I could even try.\"\n\n\"When it comes to slaying wizards without the use of magic swords, the element of surprise is essential,\" said the monster under the bed. \"Most wizards are still mortal, after all. Stick a knife in their back, and they'll perish just the same as anyone.\"\n\n\"I dunna think this witch can be surprised,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"And I'm not at all certain she is mortal. Even if she were, how are we supposed to kill a thing we canna touch?\"\n\n\"You could throw something at her. Like a big, pointy rock.\"\n\n\"I dunna see that working.\"\n\nThe monster shrugged, jostling the cot. \"It's worth a try, isn't it? Of course, even if it did kill her, she'd probably rise from the grave. Wizards have an annoying habit of doing that. But it could gain us time to think of something better.\"\n\n\"None of us could throw a heavy rock that far,\" observed Echo.\n\nSir Thedeus measured his thin arms and scowled. But he at least had arms, which was more than poor Echo had.\n\n\"You could prop it over a door,\" proposed the monster. \"Then she opens it, and with some luck, it crushes in her skull. Should keep her down for a day or two at the very least.\"\n\n\"Prop it over a door?\" Sir Thedeus scrunched his nose. \"Ye canna kill a powerful witch with a practical joke. Why dunna we wait until she falls asleep and put her hand in some warm water while we're at it. Or shortsheet her bed.\"\n\nThe monster under the bed sank lower into the darkness. \"I'm just brainstorming here. I don't see you coming up with anything better.\"\n\nSir Thedeus sighed. Loath as he was to admit it, the plan was the best he'd heard so far.\n\n\"I don't think Nessy's ever going to read to me again,\" whined the monster.\n\n\"If only we could get her away from Tiama,\" said Echo. \"Nessy's always the one that comes up with the plans. She'd know what to do.\"\n\n\"Aye, she's a bright lass, but we canna rely on her forever.\" He glared at the bickering assembly. \"We're supposed to be heroes, and not one can come up with a decent strategy. Bloody useless, the lot of us.\"\n\n\"You haven't really given the rock idea a fair chance,\" said the monster.\n\n\"I'm not a hero anyway,\" Echo added. \"I'm a poet.\"\n\nSir Thedeus paced from one end of the cot to the other. \"Well, I suppose you canna help but be useless then, lassie.\"\n\nEcho snapped, \"If I had a body, any body of any sort, I could be very helpful.\"\n\n\"Aye, ye could dash out a sonnet or two that would be sure to leave the witch trembling in fear. I've yet to see a witch that could stand against a rhyming couplet and a labored meta phor.\"\n\n\"Just because you're frustrated, that doesn't give you the right to be insulting,\" said the monster.\n\nSir Thedeus snarled but checked his anger. He wasn't mad at Echo. Her curse was more limiting than most. He was, underneath it all, quite disgusted with himself. As a man, he'd faced every challenge with martial prowess, strength, and courage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "As a bat, all he had left was the courage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He didn't know how to solve a problem that he couldn't just stab until it died.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Echo, I apologize if I've offended ye.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it. This is hard on all of us. But my meta phors aren't labored. Except for maybe one poem where I compared love to a kangaroo. I was going through my marsupial period. Dreadful batch of work then.\"\n\nSir Thedeus spread his wings and prepared to take flight.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Echo.\n\n\"To find a big, pointy rock. Coming along, lass?\" He flew away.\n\n\"Wait for me.\" She floated after him invisibly.\n\n\"Good luck,\" said the monster under the bed.\n\nThe rest of the assembly continued their spirited discussion, and the monster was tempted to get up and find someplace quieter. But he was so very comfortable under Nessy's bed, having gotten settled in, and he didn't want her to have any trouble finding him when she came back, as he hoped she would. He closed his three gray eyes and sank deep in the darkness until their squabbling was little more than a distant chatter. He felt around for his books, caressing their covers. There were so many still unread. He clutched a thick one he'd just found that he was certain would be wonderfully entertaining, even though he hadn't seen the cover yet.\n\nMeanwhile, outside the cot in the glow of torchlight, the debate raged. Only the toad prince and the rag doll were not involved, having slunk away from the main body to share a conversation.\n\n\"Are you feeling better?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes, thank you.\" She coyly averted her gaze, and it was very difficult to be coy with button eyes. \"And how are you, sir? Does your stomach still trouble you?\"\n\nThe toad frowned. \"It's improper to discuss such things, m'lady.\"\n\n\"Nonsense. It's plain you are a born gentleman, and your discomfort is my discomfort.\"\n\n\"Then I am undoubtedly the most fortunate toad prince in this or any other accursed castle.\"\n\nThe doll brightened. Her stitched mouth stretched in a smile as wide as was proper around a fresh acquaintance. \"You're a prince?\"\n\nThe toad puffed out his chest proudly. \"Firstborn son and heir to the throne of Neria by the Sea. And you, m'lady?\"\n\nShe curtsied. \"Princess of Ario of the Shire.\"\n\n\"Princess of Ario?\" He hopped twice for joy then regained himself. \"This is wonderful news. I was sent to rescue you, my princess.\" He held up his flippers. \"Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. Still, I've never given up hope. Love always finds a way. But why aren't you in the hall of paintings with the other royalty?\"\n\n\"Margle said there wasn't enough room for another portrait. So he made me a rag doll, thinking it ironic in some fashion, I suppose.\" She fussed with her yarn hair and brushed the lint from her green dress. \"I must look a mess. Oh dear, oh dear.\"\n\nHe hopped forward and took her hand. \"On the contrary, your inner beauty shines through any shell that might strive to contain it.\"\n\nShe giggled.\n\n\"It is I who should be embarrassed.\" He croaked.\n\n\"No, good sir, you are certainly the handsomest figure of a toad any rag doll of a princess has ever had the privilege of being rescued by.\"\n\nHe stared deep into her button eyes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Speaking of which, I've always heard that a kiss of true love can break a curse.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"As have I.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It occurred to neither that they'd just met, and that true love was perhaps expecting too much.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "For this prince and this princess were raised in a very traditional fashion, and knew the royal etiquette of love at first sight which taught quite plainly who they were supposed to love and how strongly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But is it proper for us to kiss so soon?\" asked the doll.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If it is improper, then so be it. I've searched too long not to claim the reward due me. With your permission, of course.\"\n\n\"Granted, my prince.\"\n\nHe puckered his wide mouth and leaned closer, but before their lips could meet, his stomach groaned, and he belched long and loudly and fragrantly.\n\n\"Oh, dear.\" He put a flipper over his mouth.\n\n\"It's fine. I don't have a nose.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Truly, you are a forgiving soul.\" He tightened and burped again, expelling a bit of fire this time.\n\n\"Are you certain you're feeling well, my prince?\"\n\n\"It's nothing,\" he groaned bravely. \"Just some indigestion. I'll be fine. I'll be—\"\n\nHis chin puffed out. His body contorted. And he noisily vomited up a bit of bile and a small firefly. The sound was so loud and painfully disgusting as to bring all other discussion to an end.\n\nThe firefly shook the bile from her wings. Her tail flared a bright crimson. She glanced about the room.\n\n\"Hello, what do we have here?\" Her eyes glinted, full of demonic mischief. \"I claim this castle and all the damned souls within it.\"\n\nThe rat chuckled harshly. \"You're too late. Someone else has already claimed it.\"\n\n\"She's going to feed us to a zombie legion,\" said the shadow.\n\n\"Mob,\" corrected the parrot.\n\nThe demon rose in the air. Her wings beat louder than a stampede of antelope. \"We'll just see about that.\"\n\nThe toad prince convulsed as he vomited once again. Only this time, he didn't stop with one firefly. This time, he spewed forth a great swarm of them. Hundreds upon hundreds poured from his mouth. They filled the chamber with fire and cold, cruel laughter. Every other creature, screaming, dashed off in all directions, and the demon chased after them, leaving the chamber mostly deserted. Only the toad, the rag doll, and the monster under the bed remained.\n\n\"I hate demons,\" said the monster.\n\n\"You stayed,\" said the toad prince. He smiled, too weakened to do anything else.\n\n\"I shall always remain by your side, my brave prince.\"\n\n\"About that kiss, my princess\"—he belched painfully—\"perhaps it would be best if we put it off a while.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nose or no nose, the doll heartily agreed.\n\nDecapitated Dan howled with laughter. He did this quite regularly, for while he was very mad he was also a jolly fellow. Still, it was the former quality that kept away visitors, and Dan had to find his own amusement. This wasn't always easy for a skull, but he'd always lived mostly in his own head. He laughed for reasons all his own at little jokes only he heard, which even he couldn't always claim to understand. This joke, however, he understood perfectly well.\n\n\"It's time, isn't it? Oh ho, wonderful, wonderful.\"\n\nMister Bones had grown accustomed to Dan's rants, his strange little monologues. But these conversations weren't always as one-sided as it appeared. For madness and magic were strange bedfellows, and not every voice Decapitated Dan heard was a figment of his insanity.\n\nThe castle talked constantly. Only Dan was perceptive and deranged enough to decipher its booms and groans, its creaks and moans. Even then, the castle didn't always make sense, mostly because it was a very large thing with a very large soul and a very complicated mind. Dan caught only portions rumbling through the kitchen on their way to complete thoughts. It was like a thing in the shadows that couldn't be seen except for a small bit of color here and there that strayed into the light, trying to put together an ocean-sized puzzle with only a handful of pieces. But on occasion, the castle found focus for its colossal, rumbling will, and when it spoke—its many voices and hungers as one united desire—Dan understood.\n\nHe howled again. Alive, he'd often howled until his throat was raw, tears streaming from his eyes. He didn't have a throat or eyes anymore, so he had to watch himself, or he could howl for days on end. Even Dan might find that a tad peculiar.\n\nHe focused his empty sockets on the skeleton sitting at the table. \"Ol' Mister Bones,\" he whispered. \"Mister Bones, Mister Bones, Mister Bones. Can you hear it? Can you hear what ol' Dan hears? Of course you can. You're part of ol' Dan, you are. You can't deny that, can you?\"\n\nThe skeleton did his best to ignore the chattering skull.\n\n\"Listen, Mister Bones. Listen close.\"\n\nThe kitchen rattled. Pots and pans banged against one another. The manacle around Mister Bones's ankle vibrated with sinister energy. He stood.\n\n\"Yes, yes, yes.\" Dan chortled. \"Ol' Margle, he weren't so mad after all. He brought ol' Dan here with a purpose, you see. You and me, Mister Bones, we've a task to do. Not the task Margle intended, but he's not our master anymore. Not until he comes back, and if the castle has its way, he won't ever be coming back. The magic in these walls has better ideas than boring ol' vengeance. Tonight, you and me, Mister Bones, we get to strangle the whole world. Not just us, of course. We're more like a knuckle of a giant hand wrapped around the throat of the world, but it's still an honor to be invited.\" His voice grew rough and menacing. \"To be there to hear the death rattle of creation itself.\"\n\nThe skeleton sat back down.\n\n\"Oh, you've got some spirit in you. It's that goody-good Nessy. She's polluted you, tainted you with her nicety and pleasantness. Doesn't matter though. She couldn't wipe it all away. It's still in there. I can feel it. We can feel it.\"\n\nThe castle moaned in agreement. Mister Bones's chain twisted and writhed like a serpent. He stood again.\n\n\"That's it. Oh, ol' Dan knew you wouldn't let him down. Come along now, we mustn't miss the fun.\"\n\nMister Bones moved slowly, inexorably toward the skull. Each step was easier than the last.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His posture changed. He became a skulking, grasping creature, a slouching, sneaking monster.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 15 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reverently, he lifted Decapitated Dan off the spice rack and lowered the skull onto his neck.\n\nHe paused. Just for a moment.\n\n\"None of that, Mister Bones. Too late to turn back now.\"\n\nThe shackle whipped in agreement. Mister Bones shoved the skull into place.\n\n\"That's better. Oh so much better.\" Dan stretched. He stared at his fingers of white bone, opening and closing them. He knocked aside the spice rack. It broke apart, spilling multicolored grains across the floor. \"Oh how long I've been waiting to do that.\"\n\nThe castle groaned impatiently. The shackle around Dan's ankle sprang open.\n\n\"Don't worry. Ol' Dan is on his way. He knows his part.\" He threw back his head and howled once more. And this time, he didn't stop.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Continue this story fragment. Note that characters may appear without introduction as this is from a larger work. Write one hundred and twenty sentences sentences like A. Lee Martinez. Genres: comedy, fantasy. Tags: humor", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though The Door At The End Of The Hall had taken to wandering about the castle, it was waiting for Nessy and Tiama at its proper place when they arrived. Nessy had expected as much.\n\nTiama halted at the hall's end, far from the Door, as if pausing to savor a sacred moment. Nessy looked up at Gareth the gargoyle, who said nothing. He just gritted his stone teeth nervously. The Door was strangely quiet, perhaps sensing its time had finally come.\n\nThe wizardess strode down the hall. A cold breeze filtered down its length. Nessy felt the drop in temperature, but the draft itself barely touched her. Tiama's robe whipped softly. The wind grew harsher with each step, but she seemed its only target. It blasted her with gale force. Her hair and robes stretched behind her, ready to tear away from her thin body. The hall stretched one step for every two she took, and though the force of air threatened to snatch Tiama by her long sleeves and carry her away like a kite, she pressed on. Slowly. Inevitably.\n\nNessy wondered just why the Door would struggle so against Tiama. It wanted to be opened and she was here to do just that. The Door should've drawn her to it instead of pushing her away. As for Nessy and the nurgax, the gale seemed only a chill breeze. A trifle colder than the general drafts of the castle but nothing too bothersome, and almost welcoming for a forbidden portal of doom. She'd long ago accepted she'd never truly understand magic. Maybe no one ever did. Maybe even the greatest wizards just feigned comprehension, hiding their ignorance behind towering arrogance and fortresses of bluster. It would certainly go a long way toward explaining how often they were destroyed by the very forces they claimed to master.\n\nTiama and Nessy reached the Door. The winds buffeted Tiama as she put out a hand. Then the strangest thing happened. The Door At The End Of The Hall pulled away from her. The parchments nailed across it flailed, slicing her hands. The cuts to her left arm were so deep that the hand hung at her wrist by a few strands of flesh. There was no blood. Only some red sand and green mist wept from the wounds.\n\nTiama screamed in agony. Nessy was taken aback. She hadn't been sure the wizardess could even feel pain. Now Tiama howled as if her soul were being rent to pieces.\n\nThe Door howled along with her as if sharing her suffering. Her eyes burned with black fire that traveled along her eyelashes to her eyebrows and set her white hair ablaze in a pyre of smokeless, ebony flame.\n\nNo one understood magic, Nessy decided for certain.\n\nAbruptly, Tiama's screams came to an end. Her face became the same hollow mask it always was. The flames died away. There wasn't any smoke, but Nessy smelled the stench of ash. The gale died as Tiama drew her mangled limbs into her long sleeves. She said nothing. Only stared at the Door in utter silence.\n\nThe nurgax whined curiously, but Nessy quieted it with a touch on the snout.\n\nTiama's left hand, whole and without a trace of damage, extended from her sleeve. She barely reached for the Door's handle when the hall roared. Something not quite invisible jumped from the Door and struck her. Tiama, both flesh and robes, crumbled into red dust.\n\nThe Door groaned with disappointment.\n\nNessy wasn't optimistic enough to think the enchantment on the Door had destroyed Tiama. The wizardess was far too powerful for that. While Nessy waited, she pondered why Tiama was having so much trouble with the Door, even if the magic guarding it was impressive. Perhaps even deceased, Margle possessed enough power to keep the Door sealed forever. It wouldn't save the castle from Tiama's wrath, but it would spare the world at least.\n\nThe dust exploded in a burst of flame that solidified into Tiama's gaunt form. She made no move toward the Door this time.\n\n\"Nessy, open the Door,\" Tiama commanded.\n\n\"But, my mistress, if you couldn't open it, how can I?\"\n\nTiama glared. \"Are you questioning me?\"\n\nNessy bent low, turning her gaze to Tiama's feet. Or where Tiama's feet would've been had they not been covered by her sweeping robes. \"No, my mistress, but—\"\n\n\"Look at me.\"\n\nNessy raised her head until she looked the wizardess straight in her smoldering eyes. It was meant to intimidate, but Nessy didn't feel afraid. Tiama seemed somehow lessened.\n\n\"Do as I command, beast.\"\n\nA suggestion of desperation slid beneath the surface of Tiama's cold voice. Nessy glanced at the Door; its timbers slanted in her direction.\n\n\"Do it!\" It was the first time Tiama had shouted. Wrinkles creased her formerly porcelain features.\n\nThe nurgax growled. Nessy stroked its horn until it was calm.\n\n\"No.\" She was quite surprised to hear herself say the word. She wasn't the same kobold she had been only days ago, though she hadn't realized that until now.\n\n\"You dare defy me?\"\n\n\"Yes, I believe I do.\" Nessy smiled. \"If you want that Door opened, you'll have to open it yourself. If you can.\"\n\n\"My power is beyond your pathetic imagination.\"\n\n\"Very true.\" Nessy bowed and motioned toward the Door. \"So it shouldn't be very difficult to pry open a single stubborn door.\"\n\nTiama scowled. Her skin boiled. Liquid flame dripped from her eyes before her face snapped back into that preternatural blank.\n\n\"What makes you think I won't destroy you?\"\n\n\"I'd be very surprised if you didn't. I've yet to meet a wizard who could control their temper. They're all rather like spoiled children.\" She grinned. It felt very nice to finally say the things she'd always thought.\n\n\"Don't you fear death, beast?\"\n\nNessy shrugged. \"Not really. A violent death is expected in my trade. I made my peace with it long ago.\"\n\nTiama stammered. \"And what of your friends? The bat, the voice, the cat and the others? You do know I'll destroy them as well.\"\n\n\"I know, but I also know that whatever is behind that Door is a far greater evil than you. And behind that Door is where it will stay.\"\n\nTiama's eyebrows arched. \"You would sacrifice every poor soul in this castle?\"\n\n\"If I can save them, I will.\" Nessy sighed. \"But if there's no other way, then so be it.\"\n\n\"You are far too practical for your own good, Nessy.\" The wizardess clasped her hands behind her back. \"It's an admirable trait, I suppose. To a point.\"\n\n\"You can't open the Door, can you?\"\n\nTiama shook her head. \"Even I have my limits.\"\n\nSpeaking with Tiama as an equal wasn't so difficult. Nessy had never feared any of her masters, but she'd always feigned terror. She didn't see the point now.\n\n\"What makes you think I can?\" she asked.\n\n\"I know you can.\"\n\nNessy studied the Door. The runes and glyphs upon it meant nothing to her, but she still had much the same impression. Why Margle had placed this burden upon her, she didn't understand.\n\n\"I'll never open it.\"\n\nCold mist leaked from the jamb as the Door grumbled.\n\n\"Then you'll leave me no choice but to destroy you and everything else in this castle,\" said Tiama.\n\n\"You were going to destroy most of it anyway. You said it yourself, there's nothing of value here for you. Why don't you just leave?\"\n\n\"Are you appealing to my mercy?\"\n\n\"Not your mercy. Your indifference. But if you must look at it in such terms, perhaps there would be nothing crueler than leaving them to suffer their curses. It could be said that death would be an act of compassion for most everyone here. And if that isn't a good enough reason for you, then how about the simple truth that the castle is destroying itself very nicely without any intervention on your part?\"\n\nTiama chuckled dryly, as if the sound itself had to claw its way out of her throat. \"Very good, Nessy. You're quite clever in your own way. I do confess, your argument makes a certain sense. But it doesn't matter. I shall smash this castle and everything in it to ruins. And I shall send those ruins so deep within the bowels of the earth that none will know it ever existed. It's the only option left to me.\"\n\nShe whirled and stretched out her hand a mere inch from Nessy's face. \"All it takes is one touch, you know. Do you know what it's like to never feel the caress of warm flesh, to know only the icy tenderness of oblivion?\" She drew back her hand and frowned.\n\nCompassion swelled within Nessy. Tiama was as cursed as anyone else in this castle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That the curse was her own doing made it no less tragic.\n\nTiama's face hardened. \"I don't need your pity, beast.\" She turned to the Door and spoke with her back to Nessy. \"Let's play a game. Opportunity offers me so few amusements. Run. Run and hide in this home of yours. Hide from me as long as you can. Because when I do find you, and I will find you, I am going to pass the next one hundred years killing you over and over and over again. By the end, you shall curse me and everything you once held dear. And then we shall see which of us will be in need of pity.\"\n\nNessy stood there a moment and pondered. Every previous master had spoken endlessly of the torments they would inflict on her, but when it came right down to it, she always expected to be destroyed in a passing moment. Wizards considered their time far too valuable for anything more elaborate for a lowly kobold. Tiama's speech was very pretty, very wizardly, but it was yet another lie.\n\n\"I don't hear you running,\" said Tiama. \"Has your terror frozen you to the spot? I was hoping for a little more sport.\"\n\nNessy didn't know what Tiama was scheming. She didn't think Tiama could be stopped, but Nessy owed it to her charges to take whatever chances were offered. And, whatever her reasons, Tiama had given Nessy more time to come up with schemes of her own. She turned and walked down the hall.\n\nTiama called after Nessy as she turned the corner. \"Hide well. Don't make it too easy.\"\n\nThe nurgax growled.\n\nNessy traveled through the castle. Her mind wasn't on hiding. It was well past the time of waiting for Tiama to get bored and leave, which she certainly wasn't going to do. Nessy had to find a way to destroy the wizardess, or at the very least, remove her permanently from the castle. Her thoughts turned to the most dangerous areas of her home. The Catacombs were a maze of ravenous creatures. But Tiama couldn't be killed by terrible beasts. THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE had proven that.\n\nThere was the Bottomless Pit, a yawning hole from which nothing ever reemerged. There was the Chamber of Blades, where guillotines and saws waited to chop and slice anything that entered. Or the Insatiate Furnace. Or the Tapestry of Emptiness. The Hall of the Blood Fountains. The Dungeon of Dismemberment. The Den of Blasted Pox. The problem wasn't in finding something suitably perilous, nor of luring her there. But so far there'd been no proof that anything could be more than a touch troublesome to the wizardess. And even that was a trifle optimistic.\n\nNessy decided then that she was contemplating the wrong question. Tiama couldn't be stopped, but she was still playing these strange games, involved in bizarre machinations. Wizards were eccentric, but they weren't generally stupid.\n\nShe thought of Margle. Compared to Tiama, he'd been quite sane and predictable. Nessy couldn't envision him giving her authority over The Door At The End Of The Hall. That thing that he feared so much placed in her care. He'd always been obnoxious, insulting, but she'd known he trusted her. She'd never suspected he'd trusted her that much.\n\nSo many questions assailed her that, for once, she refused to think about them anymore. She wasn't without her limits. She wandered quietly through the castle for a while without thinking much about where she was going until she opened a door and was nearly pierced by a crossbow bolt that buried itself in the wood a few inches above her head.\n\n\"Ye idiotic gnome,\" growled Sir Thedeus. \"I told ye not to fire unless ye were sure 'twere her.\"\n\n\"I didn't fire it,\" said Gnick. \"I'm in charge of aiming.\" The crossbow across his back was obviously intended for much larger hands. He let it slide off his shoulders and lowered it to the floor. \"If you're going to blame someone, blame the weasel.\"\n\nDodger shrugged. \"Sorry. I didn't realize how sensitive the trigger is.\"\n\n\"Ye have to be more careful.\" Sir Thedeus flew to Nessy's shoulder. \"Are ye all right, lass? We dinna skewer ye?\"\n\n\"I'm fine.\" Nessy tugged at the bolt, but it was firmly implanted in the door. She reached for the parchment hanging from the shaft.\n\n\"Dunna touch it, lass. 'Tis a rune spell that Yazpib supplied us. He says it should either turn the witch into a tree stump or give her a case of convulsing hiccups. He wasn't sure which. Lousy excuse for a wizard, if ye ask me, but he's all we have and either one should slow her down.\"\n\n\"And the bolts are purest silver,\" added Echo. \"Mined from the Sacred Mountains.\"\n\n\"My idea,\" said Gnick. \"Of course, there are only three in existence, and we just wasted one.\"\n\n\"We still have two more,\" said Dodger. \"Now help me load again.\"\n\nGnick sighed. \"It took us fifteen minutes last time, and I wasn't tired then.\"\n\nSir Thedeus flew to the crossbow and together with the gnome and the weasel, they tugged at the taut string. \"And to give it that extra kick,\" he explained between grunts, \"we dipped them in the blessed water of the Fount of the Clouded Heaven. Put yer back into it, lad.\"\n\nGnick just snarled.\n\n\"If this doesn't stop her then nothing will,\" said Sir Thedeus.\n\nNessy didn't quite agree, but she saw no reason to discourage their efforts. Instead, she joined in the tugging and seven minutes later, the crossbow was loaded again.\n\nSir Thedeus panted, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. \"How did ye escape, Nessy lass? We thought for sure ye were done for.\"\n\n\"She let me go.\"\n\n\"Let ye go? But why?\"\n\nNessy had no response.\n\nDodger said, \"There's a flock of demon fireflies terrorizing the west wing. Just thought you might want to know.\"\n\n\"Don't add to the lass's problems.\" Sir Thedeus perked up. \"Ye needn't worry about it, Nessy. We'll handle it.\"\n\n\"Easy for you to say,\" griped Gnick. \"You aren't the one who has to lug this thing through the corridors.\"\n\nNessy smiled. She wouldn't have faulted them for cowering in the shadows and hoping for these problems to fix themselves, but they were trying. Their efforts, while doomed to failure, were commendable. And touching. She couldn't think of a better group of friends, and she wasn't going to lose them to Tiama. Not if she could help it.\n\nThe demon could be contained. Nessy didn't know how to get the fireflies back into the Purple Room or if the enchantments that had once bound the demon within were still intact, but these all seemed minor concerns. That was the one benefit to having so many problems. Even the big ones were relatively small after a while.\n\nA voice rolled from a darkened corner. \"Nessy, Nessy, Nessy.\"\n\nShe recognized it immediately, and though it should've been the last thing she expected, she was no longer in a mood to be surprised.\n\nDan, no longer decapitated, strolled into the brighter torchlight. \"I've found you, I have. Right where I knew you'd be.\" He leered, but a bare skull always leered. \"I told you ol' Mister Bones and Dan would be the best of friends again, didn't I? And ol' Dan's word is as good as a viper's fang. And twice as sharp.\" He lurched forward, hands extended like grasping talons. \"Come and give ol' Dan that hug I've been waiting so long for.\"\n\nThe nurgax pounced with a feral roar. It was the first time the creature had demonstrated outright hostility. Even when it had devoured Margle, it'd done so quite innocently. But it'd never liked Dan. The mad skeleton struck the creature aside with a single blow. The nurgax fell back with a yelp and a dark welt already visible on its snout.\n\n\"Naughty, naughty. I'll not be done in like Margle. I was always a strong boy, though mostly skin and bones. Now that I've lost the skin, you'd think I'd be the weaker for it, but appears I'm stronger still. Wonderfully strong.\" Dan chuckled. \"Strong enough to choke the life out of anything I can wrap my hands around. But words... words so often fail us. Come here, Nessy. Let ol' Dan give you a demonstration.\"\n\n\"Fire,\" screamed Sir Thedeus.\n\nDodger pulled the trigger, and the bolt soared true. It passed through a gap in Dan's rib cage and buried itself in the stones behind him.\n\n\"Oh, damn. Ye blasted gnome, can ye not aim a'tall?\"\n\n\"The time has come, Nessy,\" said Dan. \"Margle's revenge is at hand. I'll strangle you, then that beast, then that bat. And nothing can stop me.\" He howled like a mad wolf. His skull twisted. He hiccuped loudly.\n\nThe rune spell stuck to his bones went up in a flash. He hiccuped again, louder this time. A third hiccup erupted with such force that his jaw slipped from its right hinge and wagged halfway off his skull.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He shoved it back into place.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 70 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh now this is vexing.\"\n\nDan's bones rattled with every convulsing spasm. He clutched his abdomen, which he didn't technically have, and it helped to quiet his hiccups a little. \"Don't think this'll stop ol' Dan. *Hic* Not for more than a minute. *Hic* Not for more than a—\" He ground his teeth, fighting off the next wave. Ten seconds later, without uttering another peep, he stood straight. \"There we go. Good as, good as, as...\"\n\nHe unleashed a discordant blast, the kind of hiccup reserved for a drunken god after a millennium of debauchery. Dan fell to pieces.\n\n\"I don't like being vexed,\" he grumbled. \"Sours my sunny disposition, it does.\"\n\nThe collection of bones rapidly pulled themselves together. Speed was more important than anatomy, and Dan lurched awkwardly on his hands as his skull swayed on the end of a femur. Another hiccup caused one of his limbs to fall apart, and he hopped around to maintain his balance.\n\n\"One second, Nessy. *Hic* Dan'll be right with you. *Hic*\"\n\n\"You should run away, Nessy, while you can,\" suggested Echo. \"We don't know how long the spell will last.\"\n\nNessy was growing tired of running from her problems, but she couldn't see any alternative. Even with his accursed hiccups, Dan was a great danger now that he had his body back. He was vulnerable, and the nurgax could easily devour his mad skull, but she didn't know the effect that might have on Mister Bones, who she still wanted to save if she could.\n\n\"Find someplace safe,\" she told the others. \"And stay away from Tiama.\"\n\n\"We're just trying to help,\" said Echo.\n\n\"I know, but Tiama is reluctant to kill me. I don't think she'll hesitate with anyone else.\"\n\n\"I didn't want to do this anyway,\" griped Gnick. \"Technically, I'm not supposed to leave the armory.\"\n\nSir Thedeus climbed on Nessy's shoulder. \"We better leave, lass. The skeleton looks to be adjusting to the spell.\"\n\nDan glowered, having reassembled into an awkward configuration, resembling a centipede with various bones for legs. His pelvis perched atop his skull like a big white bow. Hiccups shook loose odds and ends.\n\nGnick and Dodger went off in one direction, while Nessy, Sir Thedeus on her shoulder, the nurgax by her side, and Echo hovering somewhere by her ear, headed in another.\n\n\"Ol' Dan will find you, sweet Nessy!\" the skeleton shouted. \"I'll find you!\" A hiccup echoed along with the clatter of bones. \"And I'll be in a most unpleasant humor when I do!\"\n\nThey walked a while in silence.\n\n\"So what do we do now, Nessy?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"I'm not sure.\"\n\n\"But ye always have a plan, lass.\"\n\n\"Not this time.\" She stopped, and Sir Thedeus, shocked, tumbled from her shoulder.\n\n\"Ye canna give up. We need ye.\"\n\n\"He's right,\" said Echo. \"We're not good for much ourselves.\"\n\nNessy frowned. \"That's nonsense.\"\n\n\"'Tis true, Nessy.\" Sir Thedeus scaled her leg to return to his perch. \"None of us are the heroes we once were.\"\n\n\"Ridiculous.\" She plucked him from her shoulder and held him in cupped hands. \"Your curses define you only so much as you allow. I don't know why I should have to keep reminding you of that.\"\n\n\"Aye, but we still have to accept our limitations.\"\n\nShe put him back in place. \"Acceptance is one thing. Allowing yourself to be defined by them is quite another.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Echo. \"But it's hard not to sometimes.\"\n\n\"We will break your curses. After we deal with these difficulties.\"\n\n\"But how can you be certain?\" asked Echo. \"It's so much to overcome.\"\n\n\"Because I choose to be certain.\" Nessy smiled. \"Because I'll take hope over hopelessness any day.\"\n\n\"But it's not always easy, lass.\"\n\n\"It's all well and good to set reasonable goals, but when unreasonable goals are your only choice, you should always strive for them. Because it's not really a choice at all.\"\n\n\"I'd never thought of it like that,\" said Sir Thedeus. \"So do ye truly think we have a chance?\"\n\n\"There's always a chance.\"\n\nThey turned a corner. Tiama the Scarred stood before them. A faint smile hinted upon her lips. \"There are no more chances.\"\n\nNessy backed away.\n\n\"Oh please don't tell me you're going to run now. What would be the point?\"\n\nWhile Nessy agreed, she still turned and bolted down the corridor.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around one hundred and thirty-four sentences continuing directly from the user's text. If characters are introduced mid-story, treat them as established. Style: A. Lee Martinez", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tiama's laugh was as cold and lifeless as the wizardess herself.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It chased Nessy through the halls.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nessy had a finetuned ear when it came to echoes, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly where it came from. One moment, it was behind her. The next, ahead of her. And sometimes, it seemed like every direction at once.\n\nShe ran because she couldn't think of anything else to do. She truly was out of ideas. It was an unusual occurrence. Nessy rarely found herself without a plan, even if it was only a vague outline of one. But she could see no course of action left except running and hoping that a solution of some sort would present itself. If kobolds had a god, she might even have prayed to him.\n\nShe paused at an intersection. That infernal laugh poured from the shadows to confuse her.\n\n\"The witch is everywhere,\" whispered Sir Thedeus.\n\n\"She can't be everywhere,\" said Echo.\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Did we lose her?\" asked Echo.\n\nA new chuckle filled the air. Madly jovial, broken by hiccups.\n\n\"Dan.\" Sir Thedeus's large ears pivoted to find the source.\n\nThe skeleton was even more dangerous than Tiama, thought Nessy. The wizardess was hesitant to kill Nessy, but he wouldn't be.\n\n\"Neeesssyyyyy.\" He sang out her name again and again. \"Neeeesssyyyyy. *Hic*\"\n\n\"He's over there,\" said Echo, although she couldn't clarify her direction with any sort of gesture, so the remark was useless.\n\nA door flew open and Dan came charging out. He had a strange run, legs spread wide, arms flailing in the air. And that peculiar hiccuping cackle.\n\nNessy dashed away. She didn't look back, but slowly, the click of his bones against stone faded. She stopped to catch her breath.\n\nTiama appeared. Whether she'd actually sneaked up on them or just appeared, Nessy couldn't say. She soared forward. Her entire body was aflame, rippling with black fire, and she howled like a specter.\n\nNessy ran again, and soon enough, the wizardess was lost somewhere in the chase until only the threatening silence remained. Over and over, the ritual repeated itself. Tiama or Dan would chase Nessy a short while, only to fade into the shadows and reappear once again.\n\nThe nurgax whined.\n\n\"Why don't they get it over with?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\nNessy knew why. Kobolds weren't strangers to the art of harrying, of chasing down prey until it was so exhausted and disoriented that it might blunder into a vulnerable position. They were trying to confuse her.\n\nBut though her body ached and she was a bit tired, she knew her castle. She was now in the pillar chamber, large and lined with thick marble columns. There were two doors out of it.\n\nShe opened one. Dan stood on the other side. He lunged at her, and though he should've caught her easily, she managed to slip from his strangling embrace. She threw open the second door, back the way she'd come. Tiama stood, somber-faced and eyes aflame, in the doorway. There was no escape now.\n\nTiama and Dan stood side by side. They were working together, and Nessy wondered what purpose could bring them together.\n\n\"Nessy, look,\" said Echo. \"There's an exit behind us.\"\n\nNessy chided herself for making such an obvious mistake. She should've known her castle better. She dashed to it. Tiama and Dan strolled after her, as if they had all the time in the world.\n\nThe door was barred, and Nessy struggled to lift the wooden plank. It seemed as heavy as iron.\n\n\"Hurry, lass,\" urged Sir Thedeus.\n\nShe stopped.\n\n\"What are ye doing?\"\n\nShe stepped back. \"This door doesn't belong here.\"\n\nHe glanced back at their pursuers, drawing steadily closer. \"Now isn't the time to be questioning any bit of good fortune that comes our way, lass.\"\n\nIt seemed the perfect time to Nessy. This was exactly what Tiama and Dan had worked so very hard to do, and they had almost succeeded.\n\n\"I know what you are,\" she said.\n\nThe Door growled as it cast away its illusion.\n\nNessy turned her back to it and faced the wizardess and the skeleton. \"I'm not opening it.\" Her exhaustion fell aside, replaced by a quiet resolve. \"I'm never opening it.\"\n\nDan chuckled. \"I told you she wouldn't be tricked so easily.\"\n\nThe Door moaned.\n\n\"She's got a good head on her shoulders. Best thing to do in ol' Dan's opinion is to squeeze that little neck until it pops off.\"\n\nTiama held up a hand to keep him back. \"Your defiance grows tiresome, Nessy.\"\n\n\"And I'm growing tired of this endless discussion.\" Nessy made a show of yawning. \"You keep threatening to destroy me if I don't open that Door. I keep refusing. And yet, here I am, not destroyed.\"\n\nThe fire in Tiama's eyes surged, and smoke poured from her sockets. \"Very well. The time for reasonable discussion is over. You're quite right. I have no intention of killing you. Dead, you would be worthless to me. I was merely hoping to do this in a civilized manner. But I see now you've forced my hand. You've no one to blame but yourself. You'd be surprised the pain you might endure without dying. In truth, the most terrible pain is rarely fatal. It's a lesson you shall learn most intimately. Every stubbornness has its limits. We shall find yours. You shall beg for death's mercy, but I shall not grant it. Not until you open that Door. Only then will I give you that gift. Perhaps. If I'm feeling charitable.\" She grinned. \"Although, to be perfectly honest, charity is not my strongest suit. Seize her, Dan.\"\n\nThe nurgax leapt upon the skeleton, clamping its mouth around one arm. Dan growled with annoyance. With his free hand, he grabbed the nurgax by the horn and threw it down to the floor. He punched it once across the jaw, knocking loose several long, white fangs that clattered against the stone. The creature tumbled over, on the verge of unconsciousness.\n\nHe chuckled. \"I said ol' Dan was strong, didn't I? Now let's have no more of this silliness.\" He wrapped his painful grip onto Nessy's shoulder. \"Be reasonable. I don't like torture. *Hic* I may be mad, but I'd rather just kill you. *Hic* The suffering never appealed much to me. Ol' Dan just likes the pretty pretty death rattle.\"\n\nBut he saw that Nessy wasn't about to change her mind and sighed.\n\n\"Have it your way then. *Hic*\"\n\nA steel gauntlet wrapped around the skeleton's own neck suddenly. The Blue Paladin hoisted Dan high in the air. Though his every move was a rattle of armor, somehow he'd sneaked up on them. The Paladin raised his other hand and with a single finger, flicked the skull from Dan's shoulders. The skull bounced to the far end of the pillar chamber.\n\n\"No fair! No fair!\" he cried.\n\nThe Paladin backhanded Tiama, hurling the wizardess away. She lay on the floor, a broken heap. The Paladin brushed the kobold gently aside. Behind him, the army of empty armors stood ready. The strange new tendency of things to suddenly appear no longer surprised Nessy.\n\n\"I was wondering when you'd find me.\" Tiama rose, much to no one's surprise. \"Do you really think you can stop me?\"\n\nThe Paladin held high his massive battle-ax. Tiama laughed, and this time, somewhere under it all, there was a trace of honest amusement. Then the Blue Paladin lowered his ax, and the armors charged forth. There were no war cries, no bloodthirsty whoops, but they clanged and banged, rattled and clattered. The dragon armor's steps thundered loudest of all. With its wide strides, it reached Tiama first. It reared up and brought all its weight down upon her, crushing her beneath its two unforgiving gauntlets. The brick floor buckled, threatening to give way. The dragon raised its helmet as if unleashing a victory call.\n\nThe army circled around.\n\n\"She isn't dead, is she?\" asked Nessy.\n\nThe Blue Paladin shook his helmet.\n\n\"Can she die?\"\n\nHe shrugged.\n\nThe chamber trembled.\n\nThe Paladin motioned for Nessy to step back. He clutched his battle-ax. His army readied their spears and swords. The stone armor of the rock brute pounded its granite fists together.\n\n\"Should we leave them to their business?\" asked Sir Thedeus.\n\nEcho said, \"If they don't stop her, I don't think we'll be in any less danger anywhere else. Not in the long run.\"\n\n\"Easy for ye to say, lass. Ye haven't a body to get hurt.\"\n\nThe rumbling grew louder. Cracks rolled up the pillars, shedding chips of marble. The dragon armor struggled to hold Tiama down.\n\n\"You can't tell me you're willing to miss this,\" said Echo.\n\nSir Thedeus grinned. \"Aye. But it might be wise to step back a bit.\"\n\nNessy grabbed the stunned nurgax by the tail and attempted to pull it to a safer distance. Mister Bones came to her aid. He wasn't as strong without Dan atop his neck, but they managed to drag the creature behind a pillar.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She thanked him, and Decapitated Dan, clutched under Mister Bones's arm, scowled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 91 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Already back to your goody goodness. Ol' Dan's disappointed in you, body of mine.\"\n\nThe tremors ceased, and all was quiet. The dragon armor lowered its helmet and carefully opened its gauntlets. Even the armors seemed to wait with bated breath for what would happen next. A ball of red flame shot straight into the dragon's helmet. Though it had no eyes, it clawed and beat at the fire. Its panicked sways sent its tail sweeping across the room. Several armors were batted aside, breaking into pieces.\n\nTiama waved her hands about, casting bolts of green and purple in every direction. Those armors struck fell apart on the floor. Several suits got close enough to stab her with their swords without much effect. She stood unaffected by the blades running through her flesh.\n\nThe rock brute smashed Tiama beneath its relentless fists. The first blow staggered her. The second brought her to her knees. The third and fourth dropped her prostrate. Again and again, the brute struck until its enemy ceased to move, until her skin burst at the seams. There was no blood. Tiama had been filled with only red sand and white flames.\n\nThe Blue Paladin stepped forward and raised his mighty ax to deliver the deathblow. The brute held her down that the Paladin might finish the job with a clean beheading. He swung with every ounce of his considerable might. Tiama, looking very much like a doll without stuffing, swiveled and caught the blade's edge in her hand. Her eyes flashed, and both the Paladin and the rock brute were hurled away by invisible force. The Paladin struck a pillar with such power it collapsed, burying him. The rock brute crashed so hard against the ceiling that the stone armor shattered into a rain of dust and gravel and a few odd stones.\n\nSeveral spears were thrown. They skewered Tiama impotently as she inflated again. The pixie leathers whirled about, lacerating her skin with a thousand cuts of their tiny daggers. The wizardess clapped her hands, and they burned away to ash.\n\nFire and magma dripped from her wounds. But Tiama kept smiling.\n\nAnd the armors hesitated. For they had learned fear.\n\nThe dragon armor, having regained its senses, raised its long neck. Its helmet spewed forth a tremendous silver-and-gold gout. Tiama crossed her arms, and the fire splintered into a dozen smaller flames. They ricocheted through the chamber, blasting armors. In seconds, nothing was left of the army but mounds of broken, blackened steel.\n\nThe dragon, the last standing warrior, rattled its wings. The silver-and-gold flame collected into a ball above Tiama's head. She stopped smiling, shook her head as if no longer amused, and turned her back on the final suit.\n\nIt took one step forward. Her fireball launched itself into the dragon's face. Its helmet flew off its neck, and the dragon stood still for a very long moment.\n\nTiama sighed. \"Somehow, I was expecting more.\"\n\nThe dragon armor fell apart, one piece at a time. Its neck brace collapsed. Then its wing sheaths. Then its arms and body and tail. Finally, its legs. The noise was almost musical. Like orcish war gongs, beautiful in a way but never a sound one was eager to hear.\n\nThe rubble shifted, and the Blue Paladin rose. His helmet swept the remains of his troops.\n\nTiama spoke, once again a lifeless creature. \"I know you had to try, but this will come to pass. And in the end, you'll thank me for it.\"\n\nThe Paladin snatched up a nearby spear and rushed at her.\n\n\"Very well.\" Tiama's hair shimmered with fire. \"I grow weary of this distraction. Let's finish it.\"\n\nHe knocked her aside with a blow of his elbow and hurled the weapon across the chamber. Nessy fell to her knees, lanced through her chest.\n\nSir Thedeus gasped, struggling for words.\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Echo. \"Oh please no.\"\n\n\"Well, I didn't see that coming.\" Decapitated Dan frowned. \"Though I enjoy a good surprise as much as the next gent, this is a turn not to ol' Dan's liking.\"\n\nTiama screamed, and the castle itself screamed with her. \"What did you do? What did you do?\" A pyre of black fire devoured her, and she disappeared. \"What did you do?\" her voice echoed from one end of the castle to the other.\n\n\"Nessy, lass. Hang on. Ye have to hang on.\" Sir Thedeus pleaded with teary eyes. \"We need ye.\"\n\nShe drew in one last pained breath, and then she was still. Blood ran down the blade, dripping into a red pool.\n\n\"She's gone,\" said Echo.\n\n\"She canna be.\" Sir Thedeus whispered gently in her ear. \"Come on, lass. Ye were always a stubborn one. Yer not going to let a little thing like this keep ye down, are ye?\"\n\nMister Bones knelt down and closed her eyes.\n\n\"No need for all that gloom.\" Decapitated Dan chuckled. \"She's just gone off to have a chat with ol' Margle, she has. He'll have some words for her, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" said Echo. \"Show some respect, you lunatic.\"\n\n\"Ol' Dan's got nothing but respect for the dead. Why do you think he's sent so many to their grave?\" He stifled a giggle and clicked his teeth and said nothing else.\n\nSir Thedeus sat quietly for a very long time beside Nessy's body. He kept seeing her alive, thinking to catch signs of life. But they were just twitches of fur in the drafts of his imagination.\n\n\"Why?\" he asked the Blue Paladin.\n\nThe Paladin offered no explanation. He bent down and stayed on one knee, helmet bowed as if in silent prayer. The nurgax howled a low, sad dirge, and curiously enough, the Door joined in with a mournful creak of its own.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "This is a segment of an ongoing story. Continue with 58 sentences sentences, respecting any pre-existing character relationships or world-building that may be referenced.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth the gargoyle stood watch over The Door At The End Of The Hall. It'd appeared at its proper place not long ago. Now it waited. Gareth, who'd spent years studying the Door, sensed impatience from it. It clanked its handle with steady rhythm, and the runed parchments swayed back and forth. Every so often, it creaked in a way that was not at all dissimilar to an irritated sigh. It was clearly waiting for something, and Gareth didn't want to imagine what that might be. But, as the mind is wont to do, he found himself guessing. They were all, without exception, terrible guesses. That is to say, the guesses in themselves weren't terrible, but every one was a horrifying possibility. Each more horrifying than the last. Until Gareth, having worked himself into a state of quiet panic, wished he could close his eyes and pretend he saw nothing. But Margle had denied him stony eyelids. So when Nessy arrived, all by herself, without even the nurgax at her side, he couldn't help but notice.\n\n\"What's going on around here?\" he asked. \"I thought you were done for. Where's Tiama?\"\n\nNessy said nothing. She strolled quietly down the hall to stand a few feet from the Door. It growled at her, spitting steam from its edges.\n\n\"Are you feeling well, Nessy?\" asked Gareth. The torches were inexplicably dim, and he couldn't quite make the kobold out in detail. She seemed somehow different.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" she replied, but there was something odd about her voice.\n\nBefore he could pursue the point, a cold wind blasted down the hallways. Dark shapes dripped from the cracks in the walls and dribbled into a large puddle behind Nessy. He was about to warn her when she turned around on her own, and watched, without a hint of emotion, as the blackness rose and congealed into a vague, womanish shape. Tiama the Scarred had never been more than passably human.\n\n\"Hello, Nessy. I know what you're doing. It won't work.\"\n\n\"Won't it?\" asked Nessy. \"There is a door which must never be opened and a thing on the wrong side of that door. How do you get it back where it belongs?\"\n\nTiama chuckled. \"You open that door. But you see, dearest Nessy, the moment you open that Door all the magic within will come flooding out. How do you intend to stop it?\"\n\n\"By my will.\"\n\nTiama threw back her head and laughed, although it was nothing like a laugh, neither amused or malicious, but empty. Like an echo of a sound that never was.\n\n\"You've overestimated yourself, Nessy. The castle's soul will crush you beneath its venomous might. You can't expect to stand against that.\"\n\n\"I can.\" It didn't sound like a boast, yet it lacked any trace of confidence as well. \"I only need to do it for a moment. Just long enough.\"\n\nTiama knelt. \"And supposing that you are able. What's to prevent me from killing you the moment the Door is open? Your will is formidable, I'll admit, but it won't do you much good when you're dead. And all it will take is a single touch.\" She reached out with her hand. Then withdrew it. \"Not yet. Not until you've done what you've come to do.\"\n\n\"You've forgotten one thing.\"\n\nTiama stood. \"Have I? What might that be?\"\n\n\"I'm mistress of the castle, and, for all your power, you are just a piece of its leviathan soul. You're under my dominion.\"\n\n\"Absurd.\"\n\n\"Is it?\"\n\nTiama shook her head. \"Have you gone mad? There's no escape left you. You've no choice but to open the Door or die.\"\n\n\"That's very true. But since we both know I want to open it, I think you're the one who's been maneuvered into a trap.\" The torches flared brighter, casting unforgiving light on the pallid, hairless complexion of a not-quite-finished kobold. \"Amorphous.\"\n\nThe protean sludge dissolved into a yellow puddle.\n\nTiama whirled. At the other end of the hall, the real Nessy stood with Sir Thedeus perched on her shoulder, the nurgax, Mister Bones, and Decapitated Dan at her side, and the Blue Paladin behind her.\n\n\"You were right, Nessy.\" Echo whipped invisibly down the hall to her companions. \"It worked.\"\n\nThe wizardess bared her teeth in a snarl that seemed quite genuine. \"How?\"\n\n\"You believed because I wanted you to believe.\" Nessy smiled. \"Is my will so puny a thing now?\"\n\nNessy raised her arms and spoke her levitation incantation. The bar across the Door slid aside and clattered to the floor. With a triumphant bellow, the dark portal swung wide and spewed forth a thousand hideous phantoms, all cackling and howling and screeching.\n\nNessy held her hands up. \"Stop.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The command was spoken quietly, without force. Yet the tide ceased. The shadows, muttering and hissing, receded.\n\n\"Impressive, Nessy. I've underestimated you.\" Tiama's human form lost much of its shape, dripping and blending with the darkness swimming around it. \"But it won't be enough.\" Her eyes blazed with flame. The deluge wailed and crept forward with the slow certainty of a river of molasses.\n\nNessy stood her ground. Her brow knit in a tight V, burying her eyes into blackened slits of determination. The darkness rolled to a stop at her feet. Claws and tentacles reached onto the bricks and struggled to pull themselves another inch so the evil might devour this last stubborn obstacle to its release. Hungry jaws snapped and clicked at Nessy's nose. The supernatural weight pushed against her, and she tried to push back. But the tide was inevitable, unstoppable. She'd never get it behind the Door again. She barely had the strength to hold it at bay, and that strength was fading all too quickly. But she didn't back down. Not one step.\n\nAn unexpected newfound strength patched up her crumbling willpower, and she realized that Tiama had been right. Nessy wasn't strong enough to stop the darkened castle's soul by herself. But she'd forgotten an essential truth of Margle's castle.\n\nOne was never really alone.\n\nShe mentally shoved the darkness while taking a step forward. The evil receded, just out of her reach.\n\n\"Ye did it, lass.\" Sir Thedeus clung fast to his perch on her shoulder. Though his body was tiny, his courage was boundless. And his stubbornness was a tower.\n\nShe smiled. \"We did it.\"\n\nShe put her hand on the nurgax's horn. The purple creature cooed, offering her its strength as well. It hadn't the force of Sir Thedeus's, but it was enough to bring a pained roar from the writhing evil. Mister Bones put a hand on her shoulder, adding his own silent determination. Decapitated Dan, much to Nessy's surprise, cackled as he cast a few drops of his maddened tenacity to their side.\n\nThe castle roared loudly enough to nearly knock everyone off their feet.\n\nTiama trembled ever so slightly. \"It won't be enough. Even with every accursed soul behind you, nothing can stand against the monstrous storm that has been brewing. Its fury shall consume you.\"\n\nNessy closed her eyes. She felt the castle all around her. There was darkness, evil, and cruelty. But there were also little spots of gentle warmth. These were the residents of the castle. Some were warmer than others. But in each, even the most wicked, was a speck of something good. As mistress of the castle, she summoned forth those drops of willpower, those dollops of courage and compassion, pinches of unyielding obstinacy. Individually, they were nothing before the madness of the castle's twisted spirit, but together, they were a great, invisible army standing as surely by her side as were the nurgax, Sir Thedeus, and the Paladin.\n\nThe power flooded into her, and she sparkled with a brilliant golden nimbus. Cool, blue fire filled her eyes. The shrieking, howling phantoms retreated behind Tiama, clinging to her hair and robes.\n\n\"Get back where you belong,\" commanded Nessy.\n\nThe smoldering red flames in Tiama's eyes erupted, consuming her face. The skin melted away to reveal a shapeless thing, a skull made of ash and smoke. She spoke and gouts of multicolored fire exploded from her maw.\n\n\"Is that all you have?\"\n\nShe laughed, but this hideous chuckle possessed a quality Nessy had yet to see from the wizardess: fear. And the shadows, the many horrid facets of the castle's malign soul, all wore the same ghastly terror upon their perverted countenances.\n\nNessy frowned. There was a time for patience and there was a time for discipline. She'd had enough. She bared her teeth in a snarl and growled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was the exact growl, stern yet calm, that her mother had used with her as a disobedient pup.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 50 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Get back.\"\n\nThe tide of phantoms ebbed. Some were more stubborn than others, but all slunk back into the welcoming blackness behind the Door's threshold. All but Tiama, the last and most resolute portion of the castle's evil. She took a single step forward. Her veil of humanity fell away. She was nothing but red sand, black smoke and white fire. She stretched a gnarled, crimson claw against Nessy's shining light. The fingers smoldered, but she pushed forward with an agonized howl.\n\nOne touch. That was all it would take. From behind the threshold, the phantoms encouraged her with a chorus of shrieks. Her inhuman body broke apart, reformed, and broke apart again and again. But she pushed on, and when she was a mere inch from that fatal caress, a grin spread across her ashen visage.\n\nA single demonic firefly rocketed from around the corner and hurled herself into the wizardess's hand. The claw disintegrated, and Tiama stumbled back. She clutched the burning stump. It reformed into warped talons.\n\nAnother firefly landed on Nessy's nose. \"Remember your promise.\"\n\nNessy nodded, and the demon chuckled.\n\nHer swarm poured down the corridor, hundreds of flaming insects launched into Tiama. Each blast tore away pieces of her skeletal body, but she reformed almost as quickly. Still, every blow pushed her back a little, and soon she was on the edge of the threshold. The flames in her eyes had all but died away, but she held onto the jamb with tight, knotted fingers.\n\nThe last firefly atop Nessy's nose shrugged her wings. \"That's all I have.\"\n\nIf Tiama was to return, then all the pieces of the castle's soul must go with her. Even the good. The Blue Paladin strode forward. He paused, waved good-bye, took Tiama's wasted form in his two gauntlets and, as she wailed in protest, dragged her across the threshold.\n\nNessy and the others ran to the Door and tried to throw it shut. She almost succeeded, but her glow had faded. The shadows were still pushing back. The nurgax and Mister Bones added their muscle, but it still wasn't enough. The Door slid open half an inch. Slivers of shadow struggled to wedge it further.\n\nSir Thedeus jumped from Nessy's shoulders and braced his tiny body against further advance. \"Come on, lads. Put yer backs into it!\"\n\nNessy's aura was nearly gone, and without that, their might wasn't up to the task.\n\nA shaggy beast lumbered around the corner. It was ten feet of coarse, green fur with a great toothy mouth, three gray eyes, and a strange hat atop its flat head. The creature snatched up the iron bar and shoved the Door closed with one hand. Its nostrils flared in a wet snort as it dropped the bar into place.\n\nInstantly, all was quiet. Nessy sat on the floor, finding she was too exhausted to stand. The last of her glow faded from her hands, but a hint of azure light glinted in her eyes. It would never quite go away.\n\nShe glanced up at the tall, wide beast, and she recognized his three silver eyes, and his funny hat that wasn't a hat at all. It was her cot.\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nThe monster under her bed shrugged. \"No problem.\"\n\nThe Door At The End Of The Hall heaved a very long, very disappointed sigh.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Story collab\nContext: May include established elements\nMe: Opening\nYou: 29 sentences more, A. Lee Martinez-style", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Empire's got its problems, but it does have one virtue. It doesn't believe in wasting anything. Everything gets recycled. There are a couple of reasons for that. Empire dislikes old, useless stuff. The Learned Council won't tolerate anything sitting around taking up space, even if it's buried where no one can see it. They also love the concept of remaking broken stuff into something shiny and new and functional. There's an entire chapter in the Codex of the Temple of Knowledge that preaches the good word of reprocessing.\n\nThe downside of this passion is that the recycling centers are the most toxic, polluting facilities in town. They're also extremely dangerous. All that weird science is perilous enough when working properly, but by the time it gets shuffled into the centers, it's downright deadly. The staffs are almost always entirely automated. It's one of the few jobs without a human worker quota because even the Biological Rights League isn't crazy enough to fight for that opportunity.\n\nOnce in a while you get a biological stubborn, tough, and crazy enough to survive the job. The recycling center I stopped by was run by one of these. Vinny was a tall guy, lanky, oddly proportioned. He was probably a mutant, given his occupation and strange shape, but I'd never seen an inch of skin beneath his jumpsuit, overalls, long rubber gloves, thick-soled boots, rebreather mask, and goggles. Some abnormal stuff sprouted from his head. It could've been hair, but I wasn't willing to bet on it.\n\nHe met me at the front gate. Sludge so caked the lenses of his goggles that I couldn't even see his eyes underneath. He must've had X-ray vision to see out of them.\n\nEither he or his mask wheezed. \"You're early, Megaton.\"\n\nThe center was a chaos of conveyer belts, choppers, smelters, disassembly drones. Machines in big piles were torn apart and placed in smaller piles that were in turn sorted into smaller piles. The robots here were low-end worker drones with very basic programming, lacking even simple personality simulators. They didn't have much in common with a piece of cutting edge tech such as myself, but I still felt uncomfortable watching them dissecting machinery. When I finally ceased to function, I could end up in one of these places. Maybe this very one. And those drones would tear me apart with cold indifference.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The thought chilled my hydraulic fluid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vinny stopped at a mound of gyroped carcasses. \"Here ya go.\"\n\n\"You got any lamps?\" I asked.\n\nHe chuckled, though it came out as a rough gasp through his mask. \"No lamps. Just these. They're all yours for the next hour. Then they go in the smelter.\" He walked away, wheezing. \"Clock's tickin', big guy.\"\n\nI spent the next fifty-three minutes pounding gyropeds. This was my own personal therapy regimen. Twice a week I smashed stuff that no one wanted anymore, and no one got hurt. Doctor Mujahid was right. There was that line of code somewhere inside of me that needed to break stuff and since the Doc didn't believe in invasive reprogramming, I was stuck with it. This was the only way I'd found to work that out. By hour's end, the scrapped peds were significantly more scrapped and I felt better, though not entirely satisfied.\n\n\"Geez, Megaton.\" Vinny kicked a soccer ball-sized lump that had once been a full ped. \"Cranked up the power a little high today, didn't you?\"\n\n\"Only sixty,\" I replied. Sixty-two, actually, but Vinny couldn't detect subsonic whines.\n\n\"Same time next Tuesday?\"\n\nI ran through some budget calculations. Between greasing Vinny's palm and the extra consumption of juice, these therapy sessions were costing me a small fortune. That didn't bother me nearly as much as the notion that they weren't working as well as they had been. But I didn't have any other ideas.\n\n\"Yeah, Vinny.\" I grabbed a hoverskid fender and twisted it into a pretzel. \"I'll be here.\"\n\nI didn't go bowling.\n\nCrushing gyropeds had put me behind schedule. I could've caught the omnibus, but I didn't want to blow seven cents on the fare. I'd burned enough juice in my bashing exercises that I didn't feel like wasting any more energy interacting with citizens. I wanted to go home, lower my power consumption to minimum, and listen to my refrigerator hum, except my refrigerator didn't hum because I'd unplugged the little lady to leave more juice for me. They were good excuses, but not great.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jung and the guys wouldn't have cared if I'd shown up late.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Word usage requirement: 'landlord' must appear 2 times)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Throwing a ten pound ball wouldn't burn much power. My electric bill budget wasn't that tight.\n\nI just didn't feel like trying to make nice today. Then again, I never did.\n\nThat was the point. Positive communal stimulation and improved social assimilation as Doctor Mujahid had said on occasion. She was a smart lady and knew a hell of a lot more about bot psychology than I did. I told myself I'd go next time, and since I didn't have the hearing to detect subsonic whistles, I had the luxury of thinking I might even be telling the truth.\n\nIn the hall to my apartment, I paused at Julie's door. I thought about knocking, but common sense said not to get involved in their lives any further. I did the smart thing and walked away. Felt like an exhaust port doing it, but a bot has got to watch his own indestructible skin.\n\nI'd disabled the autolights in my apartment for the same reason I'd unplugged the refrigerator. My place was pitch black since it didn't have a window or any light at all. Not even enough for my ambient amplifiers. I got along fine because my foolproof memory matrix told me where I'd last left everything. There was a margin of error of four-elevenths of a millimeter, but I managed.\n\nI went to the fridge, removed April's crayon doodle from my pocket along with a banana-shaped magnet, and stuck it to the door. The message light on my phone was flashing. In the eight feet of space I had to cross to get to it, I bumped into something. My tactile web assured me it was only my table, misplaced a good three inches. I attributed it to my landlord nosing about, as he did at least three times a week. My downstairs neighbor complained I made too much noise walking around. (No one had given me any options for moving through my apartment that didn't involve walking.) The landlord took this complaint very seriously, and was now convinced I was waiting for the right moment to trash the place. Such were the burdens to bear for a death machine functioning over a grouchy tenant.\n\nThe message was from Jung. He mentioned skipping bowling. Then he mentioned that some of the other guys were thinking about doing it again next week, and I should give them a ring if I wanted to tag along.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I liked Jung. Sad thing, he was my best friend even though we hardly ever hung out. I'd be smart to take him up on some of the invitations before he finally stopped asking.\n\nI picked up the phone but before I could dial Jung's number, something scampered across the apartment floor. Too big for a rat. Must've been a drat. Second time this month. The rodents were a growing problem; a hardy breed capable of living just about anywhere, they thrived in toxic environments. Empire's sewers were the most toxic environments on Earth. Drats had gills, wings, and the ability to lay a hundred eggs in a week. Most of the eggs were eaten by other drats, and most of the hatchlings were too malformed to survive. Of those few that grew into adulthood, there could be no sturdier specimen. I'd scanned drats blown in two and observed the halves skitter away with nary a notice. The ass end tended to bump into things until it grew a new head.\n\nDrats weren't very aggressive, but they could be dangerous. Their diet consisted of plastic and radioactive waste, and they didn't like light. Once in a while they'd get lost and find themselves above ground where they might bite in their fearful disorientation. Drat bites were painful as hell, and their venom was especially virulent against aberrant DNA. Some mutants had such strong reactions they died within minutes. It wasn't a pleasant experience for norms either. Standard procedure was to vacate the premises and call in Animal Control to catch the critter. I usually saved them the trouble and caught the poor little critters myself. I hadn't met a drat yet with teeth sharp enough to bother me.\n\n\"Lights on.\"\n\nThe apartment brightened, and my opticals instantly adjusted, and I didn't scan a drat, but a small spheroid drone on legs scampering in the corner. Another two drones stood on my table. Three more glinted in the shadow underneath. I heard another unauthorized robot clatter its way across the top of my refrigerator. My threat assessor processed this unexpected company quickly, but not quite as quickly as the uninvited drones. Glowing coils popped from each, and I was blasted by a hail of plasma bolts.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It hurt. But what exactly was pain to a machine?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Probably the same thing it was to a biological. A harsh unpleasant sensory input that spurred one into action. Did I feel pain the same way as a fleshy human might? Couldn't say. But the unaccustomed stings registering across my tactile web confused my electronic brain so that I merely stood there for the twenty-five seconds the drones continued to blast me.\n\nThey ceased firing. Their gun coils steamed as the drones evaluated the effectiveness of their attack. The barrage had incinerated my clothes and nicked my finish. The spheroids were too simple to be surprised, and no doubt they were already plotting their next course of action.\n\nI took a step forward and brought my fist down to smash a drone. It hopped to one side, and I only succeeded in crushing my table. One dashed beneath my legs. I wasn't fast enough to stomp it, but I did put a nasty dent in my floor. Downstairs Guy was going to be real happy about that.\n\nA drone pounced on my faceplate. It wrapped its legs around my throat tightly enough to pop the head off a flesh and blood neck. A shrill noise overwhelmed my audios as it tried to run a powered blade through my head. The attempt failed, but hurt worse than the plasma. The pain wasn't surprising this time. I grabbed the spheroid, pulled it off me, and crushed it with one squeeze. It was harder than I expected. Must've been some heavy-duty alloy.\n\nI tossed the corpse at another drone. The little bastard wasn't quick enough. The projectile stunned it. Before it could readjust, I smashed it underfoot, pounding another floor dent.\n\nThe surviving drones scampered around my apartment. I wasn't fast enough to catch another. I grabbed my broken table by its leg and swung it around. The spheroids continued to jump out of the way. After twelve seconds of ineffective clubbing, I gave up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If I'd had lungs they would've wheezed. Instead, I sighed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was new. I'd never sighed before. It wasn't in my original personality template. Maybe I'd been hanging out with biologicals too long.\n\nThe drones darted around. They weren't sophisticated enough to mock, but it sure as hell felt like it. Crackling tendrils emerged from their tops. The closest drone cracked its whip. I blocked with the table. The cheap piece of aluminum furniture was sliced in half. Another slash burned it away. The third strike ripped into my fingers. A superheated red wound scarred my knuckles.\n\nI wiggled the digits to check their functioning. \"Ouch.\" The reflexive exclamation was another first.\n\nThe drones proceeded to lash out at me. It hurt more than the plasma bolts but less than the blade. I stifled my grunts and waited for my chance. I caught an electrified whip in my hand and swung the spheroid at the end into two of its buddies. Something got knocked loose in the drone in my hand, and it went dead. The other two bounced off the wall not hard enough to dent their shells, but enough to confuse their gyros. They staggered wildly, and it took several stomp attempts to finally crush them.\n\nI turned on the final drone. It stood quietly on my kitchen cubicle counter. Its power whip went cold. It sat. The spheroid beeped quizzically.\n\n\"Out of ideas, junior?\" I asked.\n\nIt beeped again, louder. Then again, even louder. The beeps sped up rapidly into a single shrill pitch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, hell.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Use the word 'could' 2 time(s) - this is a strict requirement)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My reflex model kicked in. I snatched up the drone, threw open my refrigerator, tossed the spheroid inside, slammed the door shut as my fridge exploded. The blast overwhelmed my sensor array. Four seconds later the static cleared. I found myself on the floor in a room blackened by smoke. I may have had indestructible skin, but my internals might've been damaged in the concussion, so I waited for my diagnostics to confirm everything important was functional before sitting up.\n\nThe force of the explosion must've knocked me through the wall into the next apartment. Odds were good I'd landed on somebody, but I didn't feel anything squishy under me. I stood.\n\n\"Hello? Anyone in here?\"\n\nNo one answered.\n\nI went to the hole in my wall and checked the ruins of my place. There wasn't much to see. The smoke hadn't settled. But I could picture it. That table had been my only piece of furniture, that refrigerator my only appliance. There wasn't much to destroy, but I wasn't getting my deposit back.\n\nI turned back. \"Hello?\"\n\nThere wasn't an empty apartment on this floor, so everyone must have been out. A bit of good luck. Just to be sure, I moved slowly across the haze in search of dazed or wounded occupants. I could scan well enough to recognize the ruins of Julie's apartment. Somebody should've been here. Not that I was complaining, but my intuition started pinging.\n\nNicks and dents covered my skin, but nothing very serious. The heat scars would fade. The memory alloy would pop itself back into shape. Whoever had sent those drones to scrap me hadn't done their research. I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to scrap a fine, upstanding bot such as myself.\n\nI noticed my bent and dented refrigerator door underfoot and pushed it to one side.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "April's drawing, though charred, had somehow survived the carnage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I picked it up and shook off some of the dust. My opticals scanned something on the back.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Produce one sentence using the user's text as a seed. Follow the established character context if any exists. Stick to the scifi, noir, humor, robots genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There's nothing like a little explosion to complicate your day.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My landlord was pissed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He kept glaring at me like I'd done something wrong, like I'd wanted to fight a pack of homicidal drones and have my apartment blown up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Truthfully, I hadn't minded the drones.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Smashing junk was fun, but actually testing myself in battle, in a real, knockdown fight, had provided a release I'd never enjoyed before.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was what I was made for, not pulverizing old scrap but the art of combat.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While I waited to be questioned, I played and replayed the whole thing, second by second.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd handled myself well, but there were a few things I could've done better.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Small mistakes that I wouldn't make again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had taken me one hundred four seconds to knock out all the drones.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My combat review analyzer assured me, given the exact same scenario, I could now accomplish it in ninety.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The thing about real life though, is that rarely are any two scenarios exactly the same.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, my adaptive, evolving programming picked up a few tricks.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The advantage of a complex electronic brain was that I could multitask in my obsessions.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While I kept running the fight through my analyzer in hopes of trimming a few more seconds, I also played this morning with Julie's family, Four Arms, and his ray gun; April and her drawing, and the message scrawled on the back in crayon.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If only I'd scanned it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If only I'd looked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If only she'd said something.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd known. She'd seen her future with gleaming purple eyes, and she'd let me walk away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Didn't she know not everyone was clairvoyant?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Didn't she have sense enough to slip me a damn clue?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Since she was psychic, shouldn't she know I wouldn't read it until it was too late?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Damn kid.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was the problem.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "April was only a kid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Being clairvoyant didn't change that.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A mutant interrupted my ruminations.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Not that I didn't have the calculating power to talk to him, continue my recriminations, and analyze my battlefield techniques all at the same time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He gave me a good excuse to close the file, so I took it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was three feet, two inches tall, covered in white fur, with a pink tail sticking out the back of his trousers.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had small ears, beady black eyes, and a pointy snout.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His name was Alfredo Sanchez, and he was a cop.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His beat was the High Science Crime Unit, specializing in criminal abuses of technology.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "We had history. Too complicated to get into.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'd saved his life. He'd saved mine.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His was the second name, after Doc Mujahid's, on that list that had pushed my probation through, but we weren't close.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Frequency requirement: 'something' - 2 occurrence(s))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, he'd gone to bat for me, and there was something in his eyes, a vague displeasure, that made me feel like I'd done something wrong.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He activated a drone in his jacket.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It hovered to his lips, inserted a cigarette into his mouth, lit it, and returned to his pocket. \"Rough night, Mack?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've had better.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My alloy had popped most of the dings by now, but there were still heat scars and plenty of smudges in need of buffing out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I was also naked as the day I was activated.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't need clothes, but I'd gotten used to wearing them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Just another strange habit a bot might pick up in a world full of biologicals.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sanchez blew a smoke ring.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Impressive, considering the shape of his toothy snout.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You want to tell me what happened?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'd rather download it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You have the right to refuse download.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I've got nothing to hide.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Didn't say you did. But the law says I have to let you know.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm on probation,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thought I didn't have rights. Anyway, I've already wasted an hour and nine minutes standing here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Got places to be, Mack?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I didn't bother lying.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sanchez could always tell.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Maybe I should've checked his ear for a hearing amplifier, but I doubted it was as simple as that.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was just a damn good cop.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nothing much to tell. Somebody tried to scrap me,\" I replied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He glanced down the hall at the men in orange suits and gangly forensic drones gathering evidence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Made a hell of a mess of it, didn't they?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't scrap easily.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm aware.\" Sanchez removed his hat while he put together his thoughts.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So do you think it has anything to do with Megalith?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I shrugged. \"Doubt it. These were high-end drones, but not that high-end. The professor is in the cooler, isn't he?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yep. Just checked. Still tucked away nice and cozy in Moriarty.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Moriarty Asylum for the Criminally Inventive was the cold, dark box where they locked away all the great evil geniuses.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Its stated goal was rehabilitation of gifted, but misguided, intellects.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "So far, it hadn't worked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were a lot of dangerous minds crammed in that box, but only Megalith had a grudge against me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just because the professor was buried under lock and key, didn't mean he couldn't still be up to no good.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The professor knows my specs, Sanchez. If he'd sent something to do me in, I'd have a few more dings in the chassis.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah, that's what I figured. So picked up any new enemies?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only one came to mind: Four Arms.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knew I could identify him, so he'd dropped by and left some goonbots to scrap me, then dig out my memory matrix and burn it beyond recovery.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only Four Arms hadn't known how thick-alloyed I was.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Makes sense,\" said Sanchez.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We'll print a hard copy of his mug when we download the rest of your statement.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You've got to find this guy,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He's done something with Julie and the kids.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Got any proof?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I handed him April's drawing.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sanchez studied the handwritten plea on the back for five seconds.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll have shots of the family distributed along with Four Arms.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He puffed on his cigarette.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What else can I do, Mack? It's not my department. And this city has bigger problems than one missing family. You don't even know if they are missing. I'll check, but I don't think we've gotten any reports yet.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And when you do?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I asked. \"When someone finally notices, what'll happen then?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are procedures, Mack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yeah, I know. A report is filed. Names are added to a list.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My vocalizer hissed out the last word. \"Procedures.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He got this look on his furry face like he wanted to argue but couldn't.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sorry, Sanchez, I know it's not your fault. You're just one cop.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forget about it.\" He put his hat back on as a forensic drone approached.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Give your download to the unit when you're ready.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sanchez tossed his cigarette to the floor and crushed it out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His pocket drone popped out and vacuumed up every last mote of ash with a satisfied beep before hovering back into Sanchez's pocket.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't worry about this, Mack. Once your download corroborates your statement, I'll smooth things over with the Think Tank. Shouldn't be a problem.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I wasn't worried about me, and Sanchez could see that.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Relax. I'm sure they're out visiting family or something. They'll turn up soon enough.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah. Family,\" I agreed, doing my damnedest to convince my difference engine that it was a reasonable probability.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had his pocket drone light up another cig.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look. It's not my department, but I'll check into it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "That made me feel a little better, but he was a busy cop.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I doubt he'd be able to set aside his caseload to search out one family nobody cared about.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We'll work out the rest of the details later,\" said Sanchez.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You look like you could use a recharge. You got someplace to stay tonight?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had one place to stay.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I gave Sanchez the number, and he assured me he'd give me a call once Julie Bleaker and her family were found.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I was doubtful, but there wasn't anything left for me to do.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I headed over to Jung's apartment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was only seven blocks away, a short walk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Since every step I took added one-twelfth of a cent to my electrical bill, I caught the omnibus.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jung answered his door dressed in pajamas with pictures of little sailing ships and pirates on them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My humor model was barely sophisticated enough to find some absurdity in the outfit, and I might've laughed except I hadn't developed that simulated reflex yet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was only a matter of time before I did.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "For now, it saved both of us some embarrassment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Little early for bed, isn't it?\" I asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I wasn't expecting company.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He turned and loped inside, and I took it as an invitation to follow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jung's apartment was bigger than mine.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He'd been driving a cab longer, and he was good with the customers so his tips were better.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not that much better.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I could afford a place like this with an actual separate bedroom and eight cubic meters of extra living space except I didn't need it so paying for it would've been illogical.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You look like hell, Mack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My apartment blew up. I'm springing for a wash and wax tomorrow, but right now, I need a place to recharge.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sure.\" He hopped onto his couch and poured himself some wine.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He didn't ask for details.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was my friend, and stuff blew up in Empire all the time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mostly labs and research facilities, but it wasn't unheard of for more innocuous locations to go out with a bang.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He swished his wine in its glass, put his flared nostrils to the lip, and sniffed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's a plug over there.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He pointed with his right toe.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's only for the night,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forget it, Mack. What are friends for?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sipped his wine and picked up a book.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Reading was all the gorilla did in his personal time: fiction, nonfiction, anything and everything.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He appreciated books enough to allot them a shelf occupying two cubic meters, crammed with volumes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I didn't have much interest in reading, particularly fiction.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Doc Mujahid was dead on.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't have the abstract thinking required to get into it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "As for nonfiction, I found a supreme lack of desire to learn anything new that didn't contribute directly to my functioning.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It wasn't in my motivational directives.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "According to the doc, that was a poor excuse for not trying.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had the Glitch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I could think outside of my programming, override my directives as illustrated when I'd refused to kill on command.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I held a certain vaguely defined respect for life.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Exactly how high that respect rated in my personality index, I couldn't say, but it was enough to not step on somebody for bumping into me on the sidewalk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was enough that I cared a whole hell of a lot about Julie, April, and Holt Bleaker's continued existence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gavin, I couldn't give one-eighth of a damn about.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's with the doodle?\" asked Jung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Of course, I hadn't forgotten the drawing held in my right hand, but it still seemed surprising that it was there.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's nothing,\" I replied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mind if I use your fridge?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Knock yourself out.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I slapped April's drawing on the refrigerator with the half-melted banana magnet I'd salvaged from my place.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I hoped the magnet wouldn't offend Jung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wasn't as comfortable with his ape origins as he liked to pretend and could be a bit sensitive sometimes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Where's your television, Jung?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't have one.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sighed. I was doing that a little too much, but it would take a while for the affectation to find balance in my personality template.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I didn't think you ever got bored,\" said Jung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Biological minds craved stimulation either for stimulation's sake or to keep them distracted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bots were generally fine, able to close those files they'd rather not access.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd whiled away many a night in my apartment standing in the corner, honestly not thinking about anything.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I couldn't seem to do it now, and every time I tried, that damn Glitch reopened them again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Short of shutting myself down completely for my recharge cycle, I was screwed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even that might not work since when I recharged my housekeeping programs took advantage of the lack of input to defragment the day's new data.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I dreamed. Not in the same manner of biologicals.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My dreams weren't confusing and symbolic.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They were replays, tours of my memory matrix, dissections of every single nuance as my evolutionary program sought to adapt to better functionality.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Normally, I didn't mind, but I didn't feel up to it right now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'd planned on trying to assemble an allosaurus skeleton model for my next doc-ordered project, but that had been destroyed along with my other models, my custom-tailored wardrobe, my refrigerator, my apartment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My nice, uneventful existence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unbidden, my electronic brain opened the memory file again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I fast-forwarded to April handing me that drawing and froze on those soft, purple eyes, pleading with me to save her but not being able to say it aloud.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I closed the file again, but it was only a temporary reprieve.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unthinking drones didn't know how good they had it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You could always read a book,\" suggested Jung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have you got Treasure Island?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It didn't work.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd never tried to read a book.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Turned out, unsurprisingly, I read fast.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The words flowed effortlessly into my memory matrix, and I was done far too quickly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I read it again from memory a couple of times.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Good story, but not capable of keeping me from multitasking on my obsessions: Julie Bleaker, her kids, crushing drones, my exploding apartment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I admitted defeat, trudged to the corner, and plugged myself in.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"G'night, Mack,\" said Jung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nighty night,\" I replied, clicking off.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I dreamt of the fight two hundred eleven times.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I repeated my meeting with the doc thirty-six times, my junkyard wrecking session one hundred fifty times.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "April and her drawing, that moment replayed no less than five hundred and eighty-eight times.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three hours, six minutes later, I clicked back to consciousness.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentence.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jung had gone to bed, so I clomped my way across the room as quietly as I could. I took the drawing off of the refrigerator, turned it over.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Let's engage in collaborative writing in the scifi, noir, humor, robots genre. I'll provide a starting point, and you'll continue with five sentences, maintaining any established context.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every passing minute, the odds of something bad happening to the Bleakers increased. I wasn't happy about that, but I was still a logical machine (excusing a misstep here and there from that damn Freewill). Short of wandering around knocking on doors hoping to bump into Four Arms by chance, there wasn't much else I could do but wait until morning. There were too many doors in this town for one bot to cover. Fortunately, thanks to my internal chronometer, I perceived time as a constant.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Six hours, twenty minutes clicked by at a steady pace, and never once did it seem to take longer than it should have.\n\nI'll admit I was glad when morning arrived. If only so I could tick off the first step in my current objective list. The next was to let Jung know I wouldn't be going to work today.\n\n\"Any reason?\" asked Jung as he put on his jacket.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Personal day,\" I replied.\n\nHe cast a suspicious glance my way. I thought it was suspicious. My facial expression analyzer wasn't geared toward gorillas. \"Is everything okay, Mack?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn: write with substantial dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nothing you need to worry about.\"\n\n\"We're not talking about me.\"\n\nHe paused, waiting for me to say something. The nuances of spontaneous conversation sometimes escaped me, so I said nothing.\n\n\"Damn it, Mack. I can't help you if you don't talk to me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I said nothing again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jung's upper lip twitched, revealing a single, white fang.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only once had I seen him lose his temper, after someone at work had thought it funny to hide Jung's copy of Pride and Prejudice.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He'd taken it well enough at first, but the prankster hadn't ended the gag soon enough and found himself facing a frothing, chest-beating, primal beast. No one got hurt, but that might not have been true if I hadn't been there to hold Jung back. After that, no one got between an eight-hundred-pound gorilla and Jane Austen.\n\nOther than that, I'd never seen him any other way but perfectly civilized, buttoned-down, proper. He could be dryly acerbic in expressing his annoyance with the absurdity of the world, but rarely did he actually show it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "You must include the following in quotes somewhere in your response: Since you're barely two, Mack, I'll explain how this friend business works. Friends help each other. That's one of the big things about being friends. Otherwise, we're just two guys who know each other.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Since you're barely two, Mack, I'll explain how this friend business works. Friends help each other. That's one of the big things about being friends. Otherwise, we're just two guys who know each other.\"\n\n\"You gave me a place to recharge,\" I said. \"I appreciate that, but you don't need to get involved any further.\"\n\n\"Damn it. We aren't talking about what I need.\" He slapped his thick gray hands against my metal gut.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hard enough to cave in a skull, but not enough to move me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forget it. You know, Mack. Even for a ruthless killing machine, you're one closed-off son of a bitch.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jung lurched grumpily toward the door.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I could use a coat,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "/* For your next response only, include regular dialogue */", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He turned back and nodded. \"Check my closet. I've got one too big for me, but it should fit you.\" He grinned. At least, I thought he did. \"And be careful this time. You still owe me for that vest.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He waved his hands as if to brush aside the gratitude.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And Mack, whatever you've gotten involved in, be careful.\"\n\n\"It's nothing to worry about, Jung.\"\n\n\"Do me a favor and be careful regardless.\"\n\nI found a nice gray trench coat that was a little too big for the gorilla, but a perfect fit for me. I was taller than Jung, so it didn't fall lower than mid-thigh, but since I wasn't looking for something to keep away the chill, I didn't care.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I found an old bowler that hadn't been worn in a while, apparent from the dust covering it. Clothing served no functional purpose for most robots, especially ones as weatherproof as myself, but automated citizens tended to drape themselves in one or two pieces of wardrobe if only to further distinguish themselves—beyond the complimentary red paint job that all bots received—from the other drones and autos inhabiting the city.\n\nThere was more to it, of course. Automatons with sophisticated-enough programming started to absorb affectations from their environment. Fully aware bots were even more susceptible to such quirks.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was no different. Whether it was some subconscious motivational directive driving me toward full assimilation or a bug in my behavioral software I couldn't say. Nor did I care. But I felt better putting something on, so the stuff wasn't quite as unnecessary as logic would have dictated.\n\nThat same odd bit of preening didn't apply to my smudged chassis.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I could've stopped for a wash and wax, but I didn't care enough to waste the time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I got a few strange looks on my trip uptown, but I ignored them.\n\nCrime was a dirty public secret in Empire. No one talked about it, and if you listened to the Learned Council, you'd think Empire was a shining utopia of order and decency. True, there were plenty of districts where a citizen could live in complete safety, where police were omnipresent, reliable, and completely effective, where no one ever got mugged or slapped around or murdered. Then there was the rest of the city.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "In a town where technology was supposed to be the answer to all society's ills, there were plenty of ills to go around.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Empire was too big.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No matter how many cameras the city might post, no matter how many rotorcars patrolled the skies, no matter how much honest effort was put forth to drive the rats into the light, there was always another dark alley for them to crawl into. There always would be. It was human nature. I wasn't even human, and I understood that.\n\nThe hub of Empire's law enforcement was a gleaming dome of blue steel, a small city in itself, called the Think Tank.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were hundreds of precincts scattered throughout the districts, and they were fine for keeping thieves and muggers in line. But if you wanted anything done, you had to go the Tank. The doors were open to the public, but you had to go through an extremely sophisticated scanner.\n\nI stepped through the sensor arch and was immediately tagged a threat to public safety. A chime went off: nothing too obnoxious, but loud enough to catch your attention.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two gundrones, heavy blasters on treads, rolled forward and trained their potent arsenal on me. There was the forcefield, too, invisible to human eyes, but registering as a soft green haze to my opticals, erected around me. For good measure, the gravity plate flooring increased its pull, and I had to crank my power up to 71 percent to keep standing.\n\nThe cop working door duty glanced up from his magazine. \"Hey, Mack.\"\n\n\"Do we need to do this every time, Parker?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"System's automated. You know the drill.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I opened a port in my chest and a drone walked over and installed a small blinking box. With one of these on, a robot wasn't much of a threat to anyone. The city had considered installing one into me permanently, or at least for the term of my probation. Only a protest by the Mutant Protection Agency, fearing a precedent of limiting personal freedom in the guise of guarding the public interest, had prevented it. Now I only had to wear the incapacitor in high security areas.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had some effect on me, but not as much as they thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My systems were too well insulated.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Normally, the incapacitor would beep and its light would turn red when it detected it wasn't working at full efficiency.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But my shielding tech was so advanced as to feed the device a false reading.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was a big problem for the cops in Empire. Technology changed so fast, it was hard to keep up. It was my duty as a good citizen to report the incapacitor's failing, but instead, I faked it by dropping my power levels down to a meager 5 percent. I would've fallen to the floor, except it degravitized. The forcefield collapsed. The gundrones rolled back to their posts, and the siren faded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You could always give me the incapacitor before I stepped through the scanner,\" I observed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Parker's nose was already stuck back in his magazine. \"System's automated.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I clomped through the Tank on heavy legs.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Though the incapacitor reduced my effectiveness to 20 percent, it had the odd effect of forcing me to burn twice as much juice as this weakened state should've.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It also broadcast unpleasant static in my right audio.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I usually dropped by the Think Tank for my monthly probation checkin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Today, I lurched past those offices to a section on the third floor: the High Science Crimes Unit.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A secretarial auto fresh off the assembly line occupied the receptionist desk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The old models were strictly functional in design, spindly machines with monotone voices and minimal personality templates.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This latest generation was more aesthetically pleasing to a biological's eye.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] Incorporate 'platinum' into your response exactly 2 times [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They came in many varieties, but this model was a robust automated version of a platinum blonde. Although her composition was more likely low-grade steel than platinum. She had a name tag proclaiming her Darlene.\n\nWhoever was paying the department's bills had sprung for the facial expression package. She smiled, batted her eyelashes at me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was something terribly wrong about an auto with eyelashes. \"Well, hello, handsome.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Terrific. She was a flirt.\n\n\"How can I help you, big guy?\" she cooed.\n\n\"Sanchez,\" I replied. \"I'm here to see Sanchez.\"\n\n\"Too bad. I was hoping you were here to see me.\"\n\nI supposed I couldn't blame biologicals for being obsessed with sex, driven by it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the basis for their reproduction, after all. Messy business, biological existence. All fluids and tissues and passing DNA around in some vain hope that it'd produce something useful. It was their only option, short of cloning, and even that wasn't particularly practical yet.\n\nI didn't mind biologicals and the necessities of their existence: eating, crapping, sweating, and all that other jazz.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But they didn't have to advertise their obsessions, and they didn't have to foist their compulsions on me and my kind in the guise of user-friendliness.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was their nature, not their fault, and it wasn't Darlene's.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "So I shuffled aside my annoyance.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sanchez,\" I repeated. \"I'm here to see Alfredo Sanchez, Head of the High—\"\n\n\"I know who he is, honey. Do you have an appointment?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Tsk, tsk. Well, seeing as how you're such a fine piece of hardware, I'll see what I can do.\" Darlene pushed a button on her box and leaned into an intercom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Officer Sanchez, there's a bot here to see you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then she glanced up at me and winked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sanchez agreed to see me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His private office was a box barely big enough for his desk, some filing cabinets, and a wall full of awards from the city. I managed to squeeze in, but I made sure to stand very still to avoid crushing anything.\n\nI'd never visited Sanchez at work before. Actually, I'd never visited him anywhere. Our paths crossed, but never by appointment and never by intention.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He didn't seem the least bit surprised at my unprecedented come-to-call. He continued to fill out reports. His typewriter clicked nonstop.\n\n\"They make drones for that, y'know,\" I said.\n\n\"City budget allows me either a typing drone or a coffee machine.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He paused, held up a paper cup full of the steaming brown liquid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Anyway, I don't think it's good for a man to rely too much on automation. No offense.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"None taken.\"\n\nSanchez sipped his coffee and winced. \"Damn secretarial auto doesn't know how to make a damn pot of coffee.\"\n\n\"You could make it yourself.\"\n\n\"Don't have the time. Too busy typing reports.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "To demonstrate, he hunched over his typewriter and started banging away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What do you need, Mack?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sanchez didn't believe in small talk. He liked to get to the point, and I could appreciate that.\n\n\"The Bleakers,\" I said.\n\nHis typewriter skipped a click before continuing its job. \"Report's filed, Mack. Like I promised.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And?\"\n\n\"And the gears are in motion.\"\n\n\"What's that mean exactly?\"\n\n\"Means everything that can be done is being done.\"\n\nWhich meant Julie and her kids were in the hands of the system now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A system that cared more about keeping the zip trains running than filtering out the mutagens in the waterworks.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn only: maintain roughly 37% quote-to-text ratio", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And it wasn't all that good at keeping the zip trains running.\n\n\"Did you run my memory file through the system yet?\" I asked.\n\nSanchez nodded.\n\n\"Get a hit on Four Arms?\"\n\nSanchez nodded again, curtly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Did you pick him up yet?\" I asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not yet. We're looking.\"\n\nMy next request was awkward, absurd. But I said it anyway, and I didn't hesitate because I'm a bot and I appreciate directness.\n\n\"I need his name,\" I said.\n\nSanchez stopped typing. He took another sip of coffee.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His pink nose twitched in disgust.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Who programs these damn robots?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Four Arms's name,\" I said. \"I need it.\"\n\n\"Heard you the first time.\" He leaned back in his chair, which in the cramped quarters was quite an accomplishment. \"You're not getting it.\"\n\nWe stared at each other across the office.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Somebody needs to do something, Sanchez.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Somebody is doing something, Mack.\"\n\n\"Who? You?\"\n\nHe opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. \"Not my beat.\"\n\n\"Tell me whose beat it is, so I can talk to them.\"\n\nHe stuck the cig in his mouth, rolling it around without lighting it. \"Go home, Mack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's just a name.\"\n\n\"It's trouble, is what it is.\" He tossed the unlit cig into an ashtray. \"You're concerned, I can see that. But the Bakers aren't your problem.\"\n\n\"Bleakers,\" I corrected.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Damn.\" He hunched over, rubbing his eyes with his hands.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Your next response only must contain 73% dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can't get involved. In the first place, you're a private citizen. In the second, you're not even that if your probation falls through. And it will fall through if you get in the middle of this.\"\n\n\"That's my problem,\" I said. \"It's only a name, maybe an address.\"\n\n\"It's more than that.\" He took another gulp of coffee, lit up his cigarette, and puffed like a steam engine.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is my problem, too. I put my ass on the line for you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know.\"\n\n\"Doctor Mujahid put her ass on the line.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"There are a lot of important people watching you, Mack.\"\n\n\"I know.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He drummed his fingers on the desk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His little black claws pinged on the metal.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?\"\n\nI didn't bother answering the question.\n\n\"They mean that much to you?\" he asked.\n\n\"They should mean something to someone,\" I replied.\n\nSanchez drew in a long mouthful of smoke until his cheeks bulged.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn only: maintain roughly 41% quote-to-text ratio", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He blew it out his nostrils in a slow, steady stream.\n\n\"Can't argue with that, Mack. Didn't think Megalith programmed you with such a warm, fuzzy side.\"\n\n\"He didn't. Must've been something I picked up along the way.\"\n\nSanchez turned his chair eighty-six degrees, opened a drawer in his desk, and tossed a file in front of me. I reached for it, but he slammed his tiny paw atop the folder.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This isn't in your best interests. But since you're dead set on doing it, I have to lay down one rule before I let you look at this.\"\n\nThe folder was so close now I could easily brush him aside and take it. My battle predictor said the chances of him stopping me were nil.\n\n\"When you find this guy—if you find this guy,\" he said, \"do not confront him. Report his whereabouts to the Tank and let us pick him up.\"\n\nI said nothing, and Sanchez pulled the file away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mack, that mess at your apartment wasn't easy to smooth over. If you go out on those streets looking for trouble—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I won't touch him. I won't talk to him. I won't even scan him for more than six seconds.\"\n\nSanchez handed over the file skeptically. Whether or not he trusted me, he cared about the people of this town. All those little folks who slipped through Empire's system bothered him. That was why he gave me this file.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knew damn well that I couldn't be trusted. Hell, I didn't even trust myself. I was untested hardware, heading into a delicate situation. I wasn't programmed for delicacy.\n\nI gave all the pages in the file a quick scan and tossed it back to him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thanks, Sanchez.\" I took a careful step backwards out the door and turned to leave.\n\n\"Mack,\" said Sanchez, \"promise me I won't regret this.\"\n\nThis could go wrong in two-thousand-fifty-three different ways, and all of them ended with the Bleakers never found and me on the scrap heap. Sanchez didn't want to hear that. Biologicals liked asking questions they already knew the answers to in hopes of hearing the answer they wanted instead.\n\n\"Probably, Sanchez,\" I replied honestly. \"Probably.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "AI writing task: segment from larger work -> 168 sentences sentences. style: A. Lee Martinez. genre: scifi, noir, humor, robots. note: established characters likely.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Four Arms's real name was Tony Ringo.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was a small-time thug who'd been having run-ins with the law since the tender age of twelve, in and out of the joint after turning professional hoodlum at sixteen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His rap sheet showed an unremarkable career of petty theft, unproductive troublemaking, and one poorly conceived, ineffective protection racket scheme. So far, he hadn't been much of a threat to anyone, and in fact, the best indication of his ineptitude was one failed mugging attempt where the mark had turned things around and beaten the hell out of Ringo. He had no known connections, no resources, no talent. Strictly a wannabe who'd seen too many Cagney movies and thought he had the stuff to make it to the top of the world, though clearly the rest of the world disagreed.\n\nLosers like Ringo didn't show up out of the blue with teleportation technology and squads of combat drones. There was an old robot saying: Does not compute. Of course, reality wasn't a neat and tidy math equation. It had too many variables. Despite the many advantages of my elegant, electronic brain over the squishy chemical lump of the biologicals, speculation was not my strongest subroutine. Once the parameters became too abstract, the situation too loaded with unknowns, I couldn't piece things together.\n\nRealizing this limitation, I didn't even try. I went with what I knew. Tony Ringo was my only lead, and once I found him, hopefully more of those variables would solidify into something that made sense.\n\nThe notion that Ringo had nothing at all to do with the disappearances of the Bleakers and the attack on my apartment did occur to me. If he didn't lead somewhere, I wasn't a sophisticated-enough machine to track the Bleakers down any other way. It'd relieve me of the responsibility. I could walk away, clear conscience, knowing I'd tried.\n\nThere was already that little blip in my motivational directives, that little nagging thought that failure was not an option. I wasn't built to back down. That little blip, the urge to smash something, had been lurking in my personality template for some time now. So far, I'd been able to suppress it because my Glitch allowed me to see no reason for hurting anyone beyond a line of code programmed into me by a madman. Even the Freewill hadn't kept the urge at bay. And Ringo's continued existence in this city meant nothing to me, especially compared to the welfare of Julie and her kids.\n\nIf I found Ringo, I wouldn't be calling the cops. My operational files opened some charming tidbits on torture techniques that Professor Megalith, thoughtful evil genius that he was, had installed into my programming. I resolved not to use the nastier ones on Ringo. At least, not right away.\n\nEmpire's various districts were arranged and named in patterns perfectly logical to the Learned Council. The upper west side, for instance, was divided and sorted exactly like the periodic table of elements. Just don't go into Oxygen after dark. It's a little dicey. Southside's boroughs were arranged along the Greek alphabet, except for a hiccup in planning which put Omega on the other side of town. Midtown's neighborhoods were named after the Great Thinkers. Though if you'd asked me, it was a real oversight that Eli Whitney didn't even have a public school named after him in Tomorrow's Town.\n\nAnd somewhere between Beta and Boron, there was a little toxic stockpile of a neighborhood officially labeled District W. It wasn't much of a name, even by Empire's standards, because the Learned Council barely acknowledged its existence. Everyone else called it Warpsville.\n\nLots of unwanted mutagenic sludge and radioactive leftovers ended up here. Not that there wasn't plenty to go around, and in fact, the whole of Empire was lousy with it. Warpsville was only a little worse. Mostly it got its reputation because no one bothered to hide the stuff. Leaky barrels of luminescent chemicals were piled on every corner. Most of the trash glowed as well. In fact, pretty much everything was radioactive enough to glow, casting odd hues of purple and green, yellow and orange. Warpsville was unique in that there wasn't a single functioning streetlight to be found, but it was always bright as day.\n\nWarpsville had a bad reputation, but most of its residents were just down on their luck, trying to get by, and real estate was in such high demand in Empire, they were willing to tolerate a little genetic jumble for a place to call their own.\n\nI'd been made here, in a little secret lab in a back alley. But I hadn't been back since leaving. Hadn't possessed the desire. But in a strange illogical way, it was good to be home.\n\nNo sooner had I stepped off the omnibus than a furry yellow ball rolled to my feet. I bent down and picked it up. The creature unfurled, fixed me with its single eye, and yipped. Furballs, a bit of genetic fluff, were half dachshund, half pill-bug. They'd been a big fad for a while, but you didn't see them much anymore.\n\nThree kids ran up to me. A small girl with a slippery mucous coating stepped forward. \"Mister, don't hurt my dog.\"\n\n\"Me? You're the one who's kicking him.\" I scratched the furball on its head.\n\n\"Hey, I know you. You're that bot,\" said a second kid with arms long enough to touch his feet without bending over. \"Aren't you?\"\n\nIt'd been a while since I'd been recognized. For a few weeks, I'd been big news, a local celebrity. A bot built to destroy trying to make good had just the right mix of forbidden science, humanoid drama, and potential disaster to set the media abuzz. It had all blown over when I failed to do anything interesting, like sign up as a spokesbot for automated citizens, become a movie star, or run amok in a schoolyard.\n\nThe third kid, a norm, remarked, \"My mom says it's only a matter of time before you kill somebody.\"\n\nI handed the mutt over.\n\n\"Give me an hour, kid.\"\n\nThe furball curled up, and they kicked it down the street, pausing briefly to splash in a radiant pink puddle.\n\nWarpsville didn't exactly match up with the city street layouts in my navigation banks so it took a while to locate Ringo's last known residence. The Hotel Swallow was five stories of crumbling brick and mortar. Stone was an odd sight in Empire. There were a few old survivors, seven to be exact, that had qualified for historical preservation, but the Learned Council was far too fixed on their vision of the utopian future to place much value on an antiquated past. Somehow the Hotel Swallow had escaped either retrofitting or the wrecking ball, but it was falling apart fine on its own.\n\nThe lobby was a dilapidated patchwork of furniture collected from junkyards, and instead of light bulbs, there were clear plastic buckets of radioactive slime hanging from the ceiling. The toxic rainbow of colors offended my opticals to the point that I had to switch to black and white. About the only nice thing to say about the decor was the actual presence, if only in a very technical sense, of carpeting. I scanned the various sundry individuals standing about, but Ringo wasn't among them. It was unlikely he lived here anymore. This was the kind of place people drifted in and out of, but I had to start somewhere.\n\nThere was a thin lady behind the front desk with pale, pale skin and enough of a mustache and beard to notice, but not enough to determine if she was mutant or norm. She stared at a television and didn't glance away from it.\n\nA fuzzoid hovered beside her. Fuzzoids were baseball-shaped drones, covered in fur, with big puppy dog opticals. Like furballs, they were an attempt to improve on mankind's pets, but so far, no one had been able to replace the old standards. Too much history, I supposed.\n\nThe fuzzoid whistled. It hovered close to me, batting its shiny, green opticals.\n\n\"She likes to be held,\" explained the woman. \"Easier to just give in.\"\n\nI held up my giant mitt, and she settled into my palm. She closed her opticals and purred.\n\n\"Name's Violet,\" said the woman.\n\n\"Can you help me, Violet?\" I asked. \"I'm looking for somebody.\"\n\nThe woman glanced over her shoulder. \"Why you asking her for? Fuzzoid is only about as smart as a dog.\"\n\n\"I was asking you,\" I replied.\n\n\"My name's not Violet.\"\n\n\"But you just said—\"\n\n\"Fuzzoid's name is Violet. My name is Winifred.\" She tapped the small plaque on her desk that confirmed this. \"Can't you read?\"\n\nI'd scanned the plaque, but figured it belonged to someone else when she'd announced her name. Playing back the conversation from my memory matrix confirmed that there'd been a slight miscommunication. Wasn't my fault biologicals weren't always clear, but I'd learned long ago to accept their shortcomings.\n\n\"Whadayawant?\" barked Winifred suddenly.\n\nIt took my speech recognition programs two seconds to pry the words apart into an identifiable sentence.\n\n\"I'm looking for Tony Ringo.\"\n\nShe turned her head toward the TV, but one of her eyes remained trained on me, and again, I found myself wondering about her genetic disposition. \"Why you looking for him?\"\n\nI answered her question with a question of my own. \"Is he here?\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" She shrugged. \"Dunno. He comes and goes.\" Her errant eye slid around in its socket, studying me up and down, before slipping back toward the television. \"You here to hurt him?\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" I shrugged. \"Dunno.\"\n\nHer lips twitched in a sort-of smile. \"Three B.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n\"Forget it. I never liked that little bastard anyway.\"\n\nNot only did the Hotel Swallow not have escalators, it actually had wooden stairs. They were cracked and in bad need of repair, but I was willing to bet there wasn't a single carpenter left in Empire. The stairs creaked and groaned with my every step, but they managed not to collapse before I made it to the third floor.\n\nI didn't bother knocking on Three B. If Ringo was home, I didn't want to give him advance warning. If he wasn't, then I might as well let myself in and have a look around. The door was a sliding metal retrofit, but it wasn't strong enough to keep me out. I could've walked right through, but I opted for subtlety. I wedged two fingers in between the jamb and the door and pushed it open, leaving some minor damage. There was some noise, most notably a soft protest from the door's motor. Someone in the room must have heard it, along with everyone in the hall, but none of them seemed to care.\n\nI stepped into Three B, ready to move quickly if Ringo had been alerted to my arrival. It was a little box of a room (smaller even than your average downside efficiency), and Ringo wasn't there. But there were two other occupants.\n\nOne was a hulking robot. I recognized the design right off. He was an Evergood Mark Three Personal Security Auto. Evergood Robotics had gone out of business, but you still saw plenty of their robots in use. Eleven years of reckless technological experimentation had yet to produce the Mark Three's equal. Rumor had it all the other robotic manufacturers kept Mark Threes, and if a new design could last five minutes against one, it was deemed a success. Still, despite their superior design, the Mark Threes weren't popular with the general public. Most biologicals saw only the clunky, ugly design. They had no appreciation for the functionality of the unit. Ugly or not, Mark Threes ran practically forever with hardly any maintenance.\n\nThis auto was covered with rust and had patches of duct tape wrapped around various joints. His cranial unit, such as it was, was a square with a single optical. He was three inches taller than me, and his neck creaked like those ancient wooden stairs when he moved that head.\n\nThe second occupant was a biological in a black suit. The norm had a big bald head and small eyes buried in the shadows under thick eyebrows. He was sitting, while the auto was standing close enough to clamp a hand on my arm. His grip was 95 percent as strong as my max, and he probably wasn't squeezing as hard as he could.\n\nThe norm folded his hands together in his lap. \"Who're you?\"\n\nThere was an unpleasant tone to the question, and the Mark Three's audibly clicking fingers tightened. He might've been a little stronger than me. Some unscrupulous characters could tweak Mark Threes beyond recommended operational limits. The norm in the chair struck me as likely to be one of those sorts.\n\n\"Do I gotta repeat the question?\" he asked. \"Slower this time, so that you can process it?\"\n\nMy simulators already started running battle scenarios. It assured me the probability of defeating a standard Mark Three as 100 percent certain, but something told me this auto wasn't standard issue. I still wasn't as worried about the auto as the dubious structural integrity of the Hotel Swallow. Two big robots throwing punches was sure to do some damage, maybe even bring the place down. So I let the auto keep his grip. For the moment.\n\n\"I processed it,\" I said. \"But I don't see how it's any of your business.\"\n\n\"This can be civil.\" He chuckled. \"Or it can not be civil. How it goes is up to you. But because I'm a reasonable guy allow me to extend the first... whaddayacallit... first olive branch.\" He leaned forward. \"My name is Grey. And this is Knuckles.\"\n\nKnuckles beeped. Mark Threes didn't have full voice synthesizers.\n\n\"And you are?\" asked Grey.\n\nI could've pounded both this guy and his robot to a bloody pulp, but something told me there would be consequences.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It wasn't in my initial programming to avoid conflict, but I saw no reason to make this harder than it had to be.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mack. Now tell this piece of tin to let me go.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Grey steepled his fingers, put his thumbs to his lips, and made a peculiar clicking sound.\"'Kay.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Knuckles released me. There was a crease left in my forearm chassis.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It popped out almost immediately, but I still resented it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This isn't your room,\" observed Grey.\n\n\"Isn't yours either.\"\n\nHe nodded, very slowly, methodically, as if having just learned the gesture and not sure of its execution. I know because sometimes when I nodded, I did it the same way.\n\n\"This can mean two things,\" he said. \"Either you broke into the wrong room. Or you, like us, are looking for one Anthony Ringo.\"\n\nHe let the observation hang there.\n\n\"Which is it?\"\n\nThe smart thing would've been to lie, but even the best artificial intelligence screws up sometime. I wasn't going to let these guys intimidate me.\n\n\"I'm looking for Ringo.\"\n\n\"Thought so. What, may I ask, is the nature of your relationship to Mister Ringo?\"\n\n\"We're not friends.\"\n\n\"'Course not. Schmuck like Ringo, he doesn't have friends. Nobody likes a loser. It's what makes them losers.\" Grey made a show of studying his fingernails. \"I'm beginning to doubt he's coming back here.\"\n\n\"Then I guess there's no point in sticking around.\" I turned toward the door.\n\n\"One moment, Mack.\"\n\nKnuckles stepped between me and the exit. He reached for my shoulder with his viselike manipulators. I grabbed him by the wrist.\n\n\"Hands off, outmode.\"\n\nKnuckles growled shrilly.\n\n\"Come on, Mack. We've been getting on alright up to now. Let's not start pissing on each others' legs.\"\n\nWhile Knuckles and I stared each other down (an automatic stalemate for two robots that couldn't blink), Grey put his wristwatch to his mouth and mumbled something. My audios weren't cranked high enough to make it out. I considered pushing Knuckles aside as Grey finished his conversation, but that could only lead to trouble.\n\nGrey clicked off his watch and turned on me with a very slight smile. \"So, Mack, it looks like we got ourselves a... whaddayacallit... common purpose. We're both looking for Ringo.\"\n\n\"Fine. You look one way. I'll look the other.\"\n\n\"Exactly what I was thinking. Both of us looking improves the odds, provided you could be persuaded to give us a call if you do.\"\n\n\"Fine. Give me your card. When I find him, I'll give you a ring.\" I would've smiled with halfhearted sincerity then. \"I promise.\"\n\n\"Oh, I know you will. Knuckles, if you would be so kind...\"\n\nKnuckles seized my shoulders. He was stronger than me, all right, but Mark Threes had a design flaw. Their center of gravity was too high. It wasn't a serious flaw because few opponents were strong enough and agile enough to take advantage of it. Despite my bulk, I was graceful as a ballet dancer compared to Knuckles. I slipped my leg behind his ankle joint, kicked it out from under him, and leaned back. His clunky design couldn't cope and he crashed to the floor, smashing his way through the wall, tearing away half the doorjamb.\n\nI brushed Grey aside with the slightest of efforts. He went flying across the small room to bang against an end table.\n\nMark Threes were notoriously slow risers. Knuckles struggled to sit up. I slammed a foot on his chest. \"Stay down.\"\n\nThe auto beeped lightly but stopped flailing.\n\n\"They always gotta take the hard way,\" said Grey. He sported the signs of a fresh new bruise growing on his right cheek, below his eye. \"While I appreciate your desire for independence, Mack, I'm afraid the point is... whaddayacallit... moot.\"\n\nI was one-point-two seconds from showing him just how relevant my impulses could be by throwing him out the window. Before I could make the move, my legs locked up. A weird buzz ran through my audios, and my tactile web tingled and prickled inexplicably. Knuckles stood, and I nearly fell to the ground save a steadying arm on the wall.\n\nGrey's eyes were now a cold, sparkling green bright enough to cast emerald hues on the rest of the room.\n\n\"You're psychic,\" I said oddly. It wasn't like he didn't already know.\n\nNot all mutants looked strange. That was the problem in Empire. You didn't always know who or what you were dealing with until after the fact. It was another one of those messy variables.\n\n\"Electrokinesis,\" he replied. \"It's very rare, they tell me. Very useful, as I'm sure you've already figured out. The only hiccup is that I gotta first touch the device.\" He gingerly touched the splotch on his face. \"Or it has gotta touch me. I think you bruised a rib.\"\n\nI tried to get my legs to move. There was a slight twitch in the servos, but that was it.\n\nGrey sat back in the chair with a wince. \"Definitely bruised. Oh well, perhaps I didn't handle the situation as... howsthatgo... delicately as I should've. No big deal. We got it all worked out now.\"\n\nI computed how quickly I could crawl over to that chair and break Grey's neck. Not fast enough.\n\n\"I see you're a stubborn one, Mack.\" He snapped his fingers. His eyes flared. My arm went numb and unresponsive. It lost its grip and down I fell.\n\nKnuckles chuckled in a string of rapid pings. He scooped up my bowler and dropped it on his square cranium. He beeped quizzically.\n\n\"Looks good on you,\" said Grey. \"I'm sure Mack here won't mind parting with it, will you, Mack?\"\n\nWith my one functional limb, I pushed myself up, but Knuckles stomped on my back. He bleeped hard.\n\n\"I'd stay down if I were you,\" said Grey. \"Knuckles isn't bright enough for citizen status, but he knows how to nurse a grudge. If you give him the hat, maybe he'll go easy on you.\"\n\n\"Keep it,\" I replied.\n\nKnuckles knocked my working arm from under me, and I hit the floor. He kicked me once.\n\n\"Stand down, Knuckles,\" ordered Grey.\n\nThe auto stepped back.\n\nGrey knelt down beside me. \"Look here, Mack. You look like a robot that can handle himself. And since it's real important to me to find Tony Ringo, I think it'd be helpful to have an extra set of opticals on the street. Don't you agree?\"\n\n\"Makes sense,\" I conceded, baiting him to move the four inches closer so I could wrap my working arm around his neck. If I got the chance, it'd take less than two-tenths of a second to break his neck. At least, that's how fast my specs assured me I could snap an average neck. I'd never actually done it before. Felt like the right time for a field test.\n\nHe leaned closer, half an inch from a guaranteed grab. \"Now, I don't know shit about you, but I'm willing to bet you're not the kind of bot to roll over and play nice. So I'm going to plant a little extra incentive into that brain of yours. See, I've got this knack for reprogramming. Kinda funny, actually, since I don't know nothing about computers.\" He rubbed his fingers together and tiny green sparks danced.\n\nI was a closed system, and I planned on staying that way. I lunged awkwardly, but fast enough that I should've gotten my fingers around Grey's throat. He moved back just in time, grinning.\n\n\"Nice try, but I told'ja. I got a knack. Now that I've touched you, I know what you're going to do before you do.\"\n\nHe snapped his fingers, and my last functional limb went dead. I fell to the floor, five hundred pounds of useless tin. But despite his arrogance, sweat beaded Grey's forehead. His eyes were bright green with crackling psychic wattage. It must've taken a lot of effort to incapacitate all my limbs. I hoped he wouldn't have enough left over to claw his way into my operating system, but no such luck. He put his sizzling hands on me.\n\nI went off-line.\n\nMy audios were the first sensors to reboot. A voice, distorted and heavy, trudged its way through the darkness.\n\n\"Hey, buddy. You okay?\"\n\nI would've replied, but my vocalizer wasn't running. I didn't waste any time getting it going, and instead, prioritized my opticals. The world fell into my digital awareness, but it was all mere shapes and colors without the necessary distinguishing software.\n\nAn assembly of multicolored polygons spoke. I moved another 3 percent toward functional and recognized a voice. It belonged to Winifred, the front desk woman. \"Hey, you still on?\"\n\nLanguage can be tricky for a rebooting brain. It took three seconds to decode the four word sentence.\n\n\"Statement: I... am... functional,\" I replied. A full second later, I added, \"Qualifier: Nominally.\"\n\n\"Nominally?\" she asked. \"What's that mean?\"\n\n\"Advisory: It... means... you should... stand... back in case... I fall... over... as I attempt... to stand.\"\n\nI managed to get to my feet, though it was awkward. Programs were up and running, but hundreds more subroutines had yet to reboot. My sensor array, though improving, was still a mess. I could distinguish shapes more thoroughly, but had trouble finding names for them. And my audio filters were down, meaning every little noise was being analyzed and reanalyzed. Made it hard to concentrate. Worse yet, there was a terrible ache in my electronic brain, which was odd considering it had no tactile receptors. I put a hand to my abdomen, where it was housed.\n\n\"Question: What... did he do... to me?\" I asked aloud. I didn't mean to, but my verbalization filters weren't running either.\n\n\"Who did what to you?\" asked Winifred, whom I could now visually identify as a biological entity but couldn't recognize any more than that.\n\n\"Statement: Running... diagnostic.\" I beeped twice for no apparent reason.\n\n\"You don't look so good.\" She took me by the arm.\n\n\"Statement: Tactile web off-line. Fine motor functions... off-line. Advisory: Maintain a safe... distance to avoid... incidental injury. Estimation: Full system restoration... in two minutes, two seconds.\"\n\n\"Maybe you should sit down while you wait,\" she said.\n\n\"Negative.\" I dug around in my vocabulary file for a less technical word. \"No. It will be better to stand very still in the meantime.\" I hiccuped one last, \"Statement.\" And then I waited.\n\n\"Should I call the e-mechs?\"\n\nEmpire had the best emergency mechanical technicians in the world to service its automated citizenry, but this wasn't serious enough for that.\n\n\"It's just a cold reboot.\"\n\nI passed it off as a casual thing, but it bothered me. I hadn't been that far off-line since first being activated. I could remember every moment of my existence, save for one-point-eight seconds after my refrigerator had exploded. But there was now a three-minute, forty-seven-second block of time in my memory log that I couldn't account for.\n\nWhat had Grey done to me?\n\nFully restored, my diagnostics combed through my software and assured me it found nothing amiss. But there was still that unaccounted-for segment of time, still that peculiar notion that someone had been monkeying around with my most intimate programming. As a robot, I didn't have instincts, and my intuition simulator remained silent. There was still something wrong.\n\nI could feel it.\n\n\"All better?\" asked the woman.\n\n\"Functional,\" I grunted as I commanded my diagnostics to sift through my electronic brain again, and set aside some of my processing power to continue to sift over and over again until it found something. \"And the name's Mack.\"\n\n\"So what happened, Mack?\"\n\n\"Did you see—\" I started, but stopped suddenly and inexplicably.\n\n\"What?\" asked Winifred. \"Did I see what?\"\n\n\"Did you see—\" Again, I stopped.\n\nI wanted to ask her about Grey and Knuckles, but something kept the question from forming. It must've been Grey's reprogramming, a little worm of a virus inhibiting my speech software, keeping me from saying anything about Grey or our encounter.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I didn't like that one bit.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 102 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a minor problem, but I didn't want to guess at the bigger motivational impairments he might've planted.\n\nI scanned the broken wall where I'd thrown Knuckles. \"Sorry about the damage.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it. Place is a shithole anyway.\" She scratched her fuzzy chin. \"So what happened?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nI didn't tell her for two reasons. First, it was embarrassing to be so easily put down. Second, that bug kept me from even mentioning Grey or Knuckles. I'd have to purge my systems top to bottom. And soon. Still topping my directives list: finding Tony Ringo, and finding him before Grey. Otherwise, logic told me I'd never find him at all.\n\n\"Ringo,\" I said. \"Do you know anything else about him? Hangouts? Friends?\"\n\nWinifred frowned. \"I don't know nothing about nobody. None of my business.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" I said with more sarcasm than I meant. \"You've been a big help.\" I had nothing left to go on. That logic sprang up again, told me it was time to go home, and put this mess behind me.\n\nBut there was that little girl, that family. Damn, some days I wished I'd been made a toaster.\n\nI'd trudged halfway down the hall when Winifred called my name.\n\n\"Hey, Mack! Wait up!\"\n\nI stopped. \"Yeah?\"\n\nShe wasn't a big woman, but she had a strange, lurching walk that made her stained, green sundress swing from side to side. \"So finding Ringo, it's pretty important to you, huh?\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's important.\"\n\nShe lumbered past me. \"Come on, then.\"\n\nWinifred led me to the lobby, back to her front desk. \"Place doesn't have a security network set up,\" she explained along the way, \"but Violet sees a lot of things. And most people don't pay her enough mind to watch themselves.\"\n\nThe fuzzoid beeped happily as we approached.\n\n\"Memory replay, Vi,\" instructed Winifred. \"File twelve.\"\n\nViolet zipped in the air and projected an image on the wall from her left optical. I recognized the lobby of the Hotel Swallow, and I recognized Tony Ringo coming in with a young woman in tow. They stopped, made out a little, and continued on their way, obviously up to his room for some of that DNA swapping biologicals were so fond of.\n\n\"Well?\" said Winifred expectedly. \"Whadaya think of that?\"\n\nI didn't think much of it at all, but she'd at least tried to help me out, so I tried not to let my disappointment show. \"Uh, thanks. That's really helpful.\"\n\nShe frowned. Then she grinned a gap-toothed smile. \"You don't recognize her, do you?\"\n\n\"Should I?\"\n\nShe ordered Violet to replay the file. Winifred stabbed her finger at the projected woman. \"You have to imagine her with blond hair, get rid of the sunglasses. That any clearer?\"\n\n\"No,\" I answered honestly.\n\nWinifred groaned. \"Damn it, don't you watch the news?\"\n\n\"Don't have a television.\"\n\n\"Paper. You gotta read the paper.\"\n\nI shook my head slowly, as if admitting to some grievous fault.\n\nMuttering, she had Violet pause the projection. \"Damn it, Mack, how do you expect to be a decent P.I. if you don't know what's going on in this city?\"\n\n\"I'm not a P.I. I'm a cab driver.\"\n\n\"Still, can't hurt you to crack a paper now and then. Then you'd recognize Lucia Napier.\"\n\nShe tossed a newspaper section at me, which I caught. Nice to know my reflex model was still functioning at 100 percent, despite Grey's fiddling. A glance at the paper showed a photo of a young female norm at a gala affair. My distinguishing software still had trouble telling attractive humans from ugly, but I gathered she was hot stuff, considering that she was in fine physical shape and with a lot of guys gathered around her. A label under the photo read, \"Lucia Napier, Princess of Empire, out on the town.\"\n\n\"She's a big deal, huh?\" I asked.\n\nWinifred laughed. \"Damn, you are one smart machine. Figure that out all by yourself, did'ja?\"\n\n\"Is she Ringo's girlfriend?\"\n\nWinifred laughed harder this time. \"Hell, no. Only saw her here two or three times. But the girl has a thing for mutants. And lowlifes.\"\n\n\"And Ringo is both,\" I said. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was the only one I had. \"Thanks.\"\n\n\"No problem.\" She turned from the television. \"So what's it worth?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry?\"\n\n\"The info,\" she clarified. \"What's it worth to you?\"\n\nShe held out her hand, and I realized she was asking for money.\n\n\"Uh... I don't have any cash,\" I replied.\n\nOne of her eyes narrowed. The other started sliding around again. \"What?\"\n\n\"No money,\" I explained. \"I don't carry any money on me.\"\n\n\"None?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I don't need it.\"\n\nHer face puckered. \"Everybody needs money.\"\n\nEverybody did. But all mine went to my rent, my electric bill, and maybe a cab ride now and then. I never needed money spontaneously. I turned out my coat pockets as illustration of their emptiness.\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\nShe looked disappointed for a moment, but the moment passed. \"Look, big guy, would you care for some advice?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"If you're going to go around asking a lot of questions, it's always smart to have some cash ready to crank the cogs. Not everyone is as forthcoming and pleasant as me. Some people, they don't help nobody unless they get something out of it.\"\n\n\"I'll keep that in mind.\" And I would, but hopefully, I wouldn't have to be asking questions much longer. \"If you want, I can go get some money and—\"\n\n\"Forget it. I'm going to sell the video to the news anyway. Worth more to them than the nickels you'd toss my way.\" She settled into her chair. \"Good luck, Mack.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\nMy volitional software started computing possible courses of action. Lucia Napier, Princess of Empire, lover of mutants and lowlifes. I didn't know anything about her, but my speculator suggested there was a very good chance I'd never get near her. Then again, that same reasoning eliminated Tony Ringo from her circle of friends, and clearly, he'd gotten to know her. If a scumbag like that could, it stood to reason a nice, upstanding bot such as myself had a chance. Of course, the world wasn't reasonable. Or logical.\n\nBut I was, and Lucia Napier was my only shot, and sometimes being logical meant going against the odds. So I shut down my difference engine and headed for the door.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around fifty-one sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and story elements may appear without introduction - roll with them naturally. Try to mimic the style of A. Lee Martinez.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lucia Napier's number was, of course, unlisted, so if I was going to speak with her, it would have to be face-to-face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Though apparently every other citizen in Empire knew every little detail of her life, including who she dated, what she had for dinner, and how many minutes her average shower lasted, I'd never heard of her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "So I took the most direct approach in my search, and hailed a cab, one of my fellow Bluestars.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I recognized the biological behind the wheel, thanks to my flawless memory matrix. I'd seen him around the garage on two-hundred-ten separate occasions, though we'd never actually spoken to each other before.\n\nI leaned in the buzzbug's window, and it tilted a few degrees. \"Hey, do you know where Lucia Napier lives?\"\n\nHe glanced over at me. \"You want a ride, buddy?\"\n\n\"I just need an address,\" I replied.\n\n\"What do I look like, an information booth?\"\n\n\"Do me a favor, will you? I'm a driver. Just like you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know you.\" He snorted, hocked up some phlegm, and swallowed it back down. \"Don't mean I gotta give you free information.\"\n\nWinifred had been right. Getting information in this town without money was like pulling a broken zip train up a steep incline.\n\n\"I don't have any money,\" I said.\n\n\"Too bad for you then, huh?\" The driver punched his accelerator, but I held onto the starboard wing, keeping it from vibrating sufficiently to push the bug forward.\n\nI could pull zip trains all day. And holding one little cab wasn't much of a strain on my servos.\n\n\"Le'go, man,\" grunted the driver.\n\n\"Address,\" I replied, tightening my grip on the door. \"Or you could keep accelerating until the wing vibrates itself out of the frame.\"\n\nObviously, he didn't relish the notion of having his wages garnished to pay for a replacement wing. \"She lives in Proton Towers. Everybody knows that.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" I would've tipped my hat to him, but I didn't have one anymore. \"Don't suppose I could trouble you for a lift. Free of charge. One Bluestar employee to another.\"\n\nAs soon as I released the cab, he shot away, tossing one parting \"Asshole!\" from his window.\n\n\"Didn't think so,\" I replied.\n\nIt was a long walk to Proton Towers from Warpsville, but it would've taken longer by omnibus. While public transportation could get you anywhere you wanted to go, it didn't always take the quickest route. It was common knowledge that the omnibuses intentionally took roundabout journeys from the less desirable neighborhoods to the higher rent districts. It discouraged casual visitation. I chose to walk, counting off every cent added to my power bill with each step.\n\nIt started to rain.\n\nRain in Empire is risky business. Sweeper blimp drones skim the skies, vacuuming up all the harsh chemicals floating in the air. For the most part, they did a decent job of filtering out the truly nasty stuff. But the factories and labs pumped out a lot of volatile vapors, and there weren't enough filters to get them all. Once in a while, you got something unexpected mixed with the shower. Two months back, midtown had been hit with a sudden downpour and all biologicals caught in it sprouted hair from every inch of skin touched by the rain. And six years before that, when I was but a twinkle in an evil genius's twisted brain, there was a shower of exploding hail that'd nearly brought Tomorrow's Town to its knees. Since the sweeper drones had been implemented, nothing as bad as that had happened, but cautious citizens still went inside when it rained, and smart citizens sought cover even when it was cloudy. But I was a tough bot, and my tactile sensors assured me this rain, while acidic enough to irritate biological skin, wasn't going to do anything to my chassis or coat.\n\nWith my fellow pedestrians thinned to a few brave biologicals and metal-skinned robots, I was able to pick up the pace. Though I'm a big bot, I'm not slow when I have enough elbow room, and I'm able to move at a fair clip once I get going. Forty-four miles per hour in a straightaway, but my maneuverability went right to hell and stopping was more trouble than it's worth. I punched it up to 10 m.p.h. and trusted my guidance system to avoid stepping on anyone as I navigated the streets on autopilot, the bulk of my processing power still obsessed with finding that damn worm Grey had planted.\n\nOver and over, my diagnostic came up dry. I could run a more thorough check when I next recharged, but I doubted that'd turn up anything. Whatever Grey had slipped into my code, it was deep inside.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe the doc could find it in my next therapy session. She knew my programming better than anyone. Of course, she'd ask questions. And since she could tell when I was lying, I'd have to tell the truth. My scenario simulator started running possible outcomes.\n\n\"Just running around town, tussling with auto hooligans and mutant thugs, getting rogue viruses crammed in my programming. No big deal, Doc. Just following orders. You said I should try to be more social.\"\n\nI calculated the possible responses. 52 percent probable: She'd nod knowingly, tap her pen against her pad, and make some vaguely disapproving noise. 46 percent: She'd nod knowingly, tap her pen against her pad, and make some vaguely approving noise. 2 percent: She'd nod knowingly, tap her pen against her pad, and howl like a coyote. I attributed that last possibility to a bug in my calculations. Or maybe my difference engine was screwing with me.\n\nProton Towers had a state-of-the-art weather regulator. Experimental, but so far, it'd worked like a charm. There was a cylinder of perfect climate stretched four thousand, two hundred, twelve feet around the three shining skyscrapers.\n\nAn everyday working bot such as myself didn't belong in this district. It didn't help that my coat was soaked and torn ragged from my run-in with Knuckles. I still hadn't buffed out the smudges on my chassis. The rain had only smeared them around. Every other robot I walked past was either a service drone or personal auto. No bots here, except me.\n\nProton Towers was surrounded by hedges, lawns, and fountains. It was a use of real estate that only the rich and influential could afford. Flying gun drones zipped around the complex, a metallic swarm of heavy-duty firepower. The Towers were a fortress, as if the wealthy and powerful were just waiting for the poor and disenfranchised to rise up and revolt. Wasn't so far-fetched, I supposed, when you stared down from your ivory tower all nice and cozy and dry while the teeming masses cowered from toxic rain clouds.\n\nThe front door was guarded by a doorman dressed to the nines with his perfect little burgundy doorman suit and his perfect little burgundy doorman hat. A badge labeled him \"Dennis.\" Behind him was a pair of security autos. The autos, clothed in black suits, were smaller, sleeker models than me. My threat assessor detected holstered weapons judging by the bulges in their jackets. They hadn't made a raygun that could pierce my hide, but I wasn't looking for trouble.\n\nThree small scanner drones shot forward and hovered around me, analyzing me thoroughly. The security autos were no doubt being transmitted the information.\n\nDennis stepped forward.\n\n\"Hello, sir,\" he greeted, sounding far too sincere. \"How may I help you today?\"\n\n\"Hello,\" I replied, trying to sound jovial though neither civility nor friendliness ranked high on my personality template. \"I'm here to see Lucia Napier.\"\n\n\"I see, sir. May I have your name, sir?\"\n\n\"Megaton. Mack Megaton.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. One moment, sir.\" Grinning, he turned on his heels and marched over to a podium by the door. He flipped through a list, smiling all the while.\n\nA scanner drone floated too close to my faceplate, and I brushed it aside.\n\n\"Get lost.\"\n\nIt beeped and zipped back out of my reach. This did not endear me to the security autos, both of whom reached under their jackets. I met their determined red opticals in a hard stare.\n\nThe doorman marched forward again. \"I'm sorry, sir, but there's no appointment listed.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't have one.\"\n\nHis smile dropped a third of a millimeter or so. \"I'm sorry, sir, but there are no unauthorized visitors allowed.\" For a biological, this guy sounded more like a robot than I did.\n\n\"Can you give her a buzz and let her know I'm here?\" I asked. \"I'd appreciate it.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, sir, but if you're not expected I'm afraid I must ask you to leave the premises.\" The security autos took a step forward.\n\nI stuck with tried-and-true robot persistence. \"Just buzz her. Isn't she home?\"\n\n\"I'm not allowed to give that information, sir.\"\n\nThis outcome was not surprising, but I was still annoyed and somewhat insulted that Dennis didn't at least take the time to go back to his podium and pretend to call somebody so he could come back and say I'd been refused. It seemed the polite thing to do. Instead, I was treated like an encyclopedia salesman. I ignored my common sense emulator and kept on trying.\n\n\"It's about a friend of ours. Name's Tony Ringo.\" I turned to one of the scanner drones and repeated the name in case anyone important might be listening. \"Tony Ringo.\"\n\nFive gun drones dropped from their orbit of Proton Towers and circled around me. Their guns hummed with ready charges. The two security autos pulled their weapons and drew a bead. Worst of all, Dennis's smile completely vanished, replaced by a determined blankness.\n\n\"Sir, if you do not retreat to a safe distance immediately, I am authorized to use force.\"\n\nThe smart thing to do would be to back away. Unfortunately, my core aggression index, that thing I wasn't supposed to be having problems controlling, kept me from budging. Already my combat analyzer was plotting battle strategies.\n\n\"Sir, I will not ask again.\"\n\nWhether I would've done the intelligent thing and retreat or not was anybody's guess. Especially mine. But the issue was nullified by a strong pinging from the doorman's badge.\n\nHe ordered security to hold their positions as he turned his back to me.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am?\"\n\nA new voice issued from his badge. Unfamiliar, but I had a pretty good guess as to whom it belonged.\n\n\"Please, Dennis,\" said Lucia Napier, \"do send Mr. Megaton up.\"\n\nThe gun drones shot back into their orbit, and the autos put away their guns. Dennis turned back to me. The smile, as bright and shiny as ever, was back on his face.\n\nThe doorman led me inside, handing me off to a concierge. The short norm was meticulously groomed, right down to his wrinkle-free black trousers. My recognition file always picked out one or two features in a person to mark them for easy retrieval from my memory matrix. The details it noticed about him were his excessively plucked eyebrows and his hair: black, greased into submission, with a part so neat and precise that it must've taken a mathematical algorithm to get just right.\n\nHe bowed. \"Hello, sir. If you'd be so kind as to follow me....\"\n\nMost of the city still used the old-fashioned elevators, but Proton Towers had the latest in levitator pods. The concierge and I stepped into a pod decorated with a couch, a plant, and a painting of a garden villa. I found the painting very odd. Having been activated in Empire and never having set foot outside the city limits, I couldn't imagine a world where such a thing was possible. A building made of wood, all that green, and an expansive blue sky.\n\nI wondered if it even existed.\n\nThe concierge caught me studying it. Actually, I'd already committed it to memory file, and could study it anytime I liked. I hadn't bothered to turn away from it.\n\n\"Do you like it, sir?\" he asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps like was too solid a word. I had no desire to leave Empire and see the rest of the world. But there was something about this painting and its otherworldliness that kept my attention. Inexplicable, yes, but part of true consciousness was having inexplicable reactions from time to time.\n\n\"It's nice,\" I replied.\n\n\"Yes, sir, indeed, it is.\"\n\nThe doors closed, and the pod shot up. Seventy-six floors zipped by in forty seconds, and when the doors opened again, Lucia Napier and her penthouse were standing before me.\n\n\"Mr. Mack Megaton,\" announced the concierge, just in case she failed to notice the seven-foot robot standing behind him. She invited me in and dismissed him.\n\n\"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,\" he said.\n\n\"Likewise,\" I returned as the pod doors closed.\n\nI scanned and analyzed Lucia Napier. Biological notions of beauty meant nothing to me, but my evolutionary programming had been attempting for some time now to work out what made humans attractive. It broke all the features down: five feet, seven inches tall. Long, blond hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Button nose. Smooth complexion. Proper number of well-proportioned limbs. Thin waist. Round hips. Breasts that were small but perky and noticeable. A nicely tailored dress that emphasized her curves without being showy, allowing a tasteful glimpse of cleavage. My evaluator performed some quick calculations and spit out a rating.\n\nAttractive to 92 percent of the average biological populace with an eight point margin based on personal preference. It was hardly reliable. Beauty was more than the sum of its parts. Or sometimes, less.\n\nNapier took longer to form her assessment of me. Wasn't her fault. Just the inefficient nature of that chemical lump sitting in her skull. She stood there for ten seconds, her face a blank slate save for a slight smile.\n\n\"Very impressive.\" She stepped forward and held out her hand, palm down, for me to take. That surprised me. Most biologicals don't trust a big, dangerous machine enough to risk a handshake right off the bat. Those giant, bone-crunching hands of mine can be fairly intimidating, and as I took her delicate, squishy skin in my metal mitts, I couldn't honestly blame biologicals.\n\nNapier's smile widened. \"A pleasure to finally meet you, Mack.\"\n\n\"Likewise.\"\n\n\"Are you just saying that to be polite or do you really mean it?\"\n\n\"I'm just saying it.\"\n\nShe giggled lightly. \"Oh, I love you robots and your ruthless honesty. Biologicals are so difficult to nail down. Not you though. You say what you want.\"\n\n\"My shrink says I should work on my social subroutine.\"\n\n\"Oh, my no.\" She frowned. \"Don't change a thing. It's so refreshing.\" She drew in a deep breath. \"So delightfully direct.\"\n\nShe turned and walked through a pseudo-classical archway. Since she was still holding my hand, I did the polite thing and followed. We stepped into a hallway lined with photos of Lucia with other people. I hypothesized that they were important folks, though I didn't recognize many. Still, there were enough photos that I scanned a few movie stars, jazz musicians, and politicians stored in my memory matrix.\n\nThe biggest portrait was of Lucia receiving an award from Diamond Jill Mahoney, the first mutant mayor of Empire City. She'd been a norm when elected. The spontaneous crystallization of her skin had happened in the third year of her first term of office.\n\nThe hallway came to an end, and we stepped into a new room of gleaming steel. Everything from the walls to the floors to the furniture shimmered like it'd just been freshly polished. There were seven white rugs placed around the room, two metal vases shaped to look ancient and new at the same time, and a nine-foot lump of titanium trying to pass itself off as a sculpture.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc) You must include the following in quotes somewhere in your response: I try not to judge, (ooc)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room didn't look like the kind of place a biological could actually live in. Nonetheless, Napier let go of my hand, nestled in the corner of a fluffy white couch, and somehow managed to actually look comfortable.\n\nA butler auto, wrapped in a cream tuxedo, glided his way across the room. He wasn't a model I recognized, and he didn't bear any company logos. Had to be a custom job. He handed Napier a bubbling green concoction.\n\n\"Thank you, Humbolt.\"\n\n\"My pleasure, doll.\" She'd forgone the standard Olde Money English Butler voice package and given him a gruff Brooklyn accent.\n\nShe sipped her drink. \"Atomic Kiss. All the rage. Well, not quite yet. I invented it this morning. But give it a week. I'd offer you one, Mack, but, well, you know...\"\n\n\"I know,\" I replied.\n\n\"It must be a very odd existence.\" She took a very slight sip of her drink. \"Then again, I suppose we flesh and blood creatures must appear very strange to you as well.\"\n\n\"I try not to judge,\" I said honestly.\n\n\"Please, Mister Megaton, have a seat.\" She gestured toward a chair. My coat was still wet, my chassis smudged, and to sit in the chair would've required the white cushions be sent out for dry cleaning. More likely, Napier would toss them in the trash and order up another one. Probably went through couches like I went through plastic airplane models.\n\n\"I'll stand. Thanks.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" She took another measured sip, rose from her couch, and drew closer. Her movements were graceful, confident. This was a woman who was used to being in charge. She reached toward my faceplate.\n\n\"May I, Mister Megaton?\"\n\nMy threat assessor marked her as physically benign. Of course, in a non-battlefield situation there were more dangerous things than ray cannons and plasma bolts. In her own way, Lucia Napier was more perilous than Grey and his electrokinetic touch. At least, I thought so. I had no real proof. Only an impression gleaned by edgy subroutines.\n\n\"Sure,\" I said, ignoring my better judgment.\n\nShe put her hand on either side of my cranial unit. \"Hmmm. Interesting. You're cooler than I expected.\"\n\n\"You know it, daddio,\" I replied.\n\nAn unidentifiable expression crossed her face. \"Is that a joke?\"\n\n\"You tell me.\"\n\n\"A rudimentary sense of humor. How wonderful.\" She smiled. \"Might I bother you to remove your coat?\"\n\n\"Miss Napier, I'm not here for—\"\n\n\"Oh, please, Mr. Megaton. I'll be happy to answer any of your questions afterwards.\"\n\nShe batted her eyelashes at me, and while the look had little effect on me, my problem-solving skills usually sought out the most direct solution. I removed my coat. The butler auto smoothly glided beside me and held out his hand.\n\n\"Want me to take that for you, buddy?\"\n\nI was about to tell him not to bother when he snatched it away and glided out of the room.\n\nNapier circled me three times without saying a word. She smiled very slightly, apparently amused by something other than my rudimentary sense of humor.\n\n\"Magnificent. Your specs don't do you justice, Mister Megaton.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Specs? Where did you see my specs? They're—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Classified? Yes, well, I have certain... connections with The Learned Council. I was brought in as one of the consultants for your probation hearings.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We've never met.\"\n\n\"No, we haven't. But that's not surprising.\" She went back to her sofa and had a seat. \"You haven't met with most of your creators.\"\n\n\"Lady, I don't know what you think you know, but I've only got one creator.\"\n\n\"Oh, I know you believe that, but I'm afraid Professor Megalith fudged a bit on that point.\" She laughed. \"Did you really think one man, no matter how ingenious, was capable of creating such a sophisticated mechanism such as yourself all by his lonesome?\"\n\n\"Hadn't thought about it,\" I said.\n\n\"No, I guess you wouldn't. Despite that wonderful Freewill Glitch, a residual devotional dictate to Megalith should remain. Don't try to deny it. Or did those giant hands of yours just clench into fists at the mere implication of imperfection in your... creator?\"\n\nI uncurled my fingers. My relationship with Megalith was complicated, but not that unusual. Fathers and sons didn't always get along, but that rarely kept sons from seeking dear old dad's approval. Logic told me pop was a megalomaniacal madman and his love was out of reach as long as I kept at this \"productive citizen\" edict of mine. It didn't stop me from having some mixed feelings about it.\n\n\"Don't get me wrong, Mack,\" added Napier. \"The Professor is a genius. Half the systems inside you are still in the prototype stage elsewhere, and the other half have been improved significantly. Your cooling system, for example.\" She ran her fingers along the rim of her glass. \"That's my baby. Among a few other choice bits.\"\n\n\"You design robotics?\" I asked.\n\nShe chuckled. \"You don't know?\"\n\n\"Know what?\"\n\n\"About me. And my ascent to fabulously wealthy bad girl of Empire.\"\n\n\"I don't read the papers,\" I said. \"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't apologize, Mack. You may be the only citizen in all of Empire, perhaps all the world, who doesn't.\" She gulped down the rest of her Atomic Kiss, threw the glass over her shoulder. It bounced off the carpet, and a cleaning drone zipped out of the wall and vacuumed up the mess.\n\n\"How wonderful!\" she exclaimed with all the glee of a cheerleader on prom night. She clapped her hands. A section of carpeted floor parted to reveal a stairway in the middle of the room. Napier jumped up and took me by the hand again. \"Come along, Mack. I've got something to show you.\"\n\nShe pulled. It didn't even occur to me to resist. I was swept along in the gravity well of this small biological creature. Down the short flight of stairs, a laboratory waited. And what a lab it was. All chrome and stainless steel. An entire automated assembly line, with the latest in drone workers, occupied one wall. There were laser welders, supercomputers, and enough spare parts in neatly organized racks to build a horde of vacuum drones. Blueprints covered the walls or hung, framed and laminated, from the ceiling. The place must've occupied the entire floor beneath her apartment. There was a noticeable lack of buttons though, and a dearth of switches and levers. Like her apartment, the lab seemed impractical. It also appeared unused, judging from its extreme cleanliness, lack of any noticeable projects, and deathly stillness.\n\nThe butler auto was already waiting at the foot of the stairs with a fresh Atomic Kiss, which she took.\n\n\"Thank you, Humbolt.\" She looped her tiny arm in mine. A little squeeze and I could snap the bone in two or three places. It was then that she reminded me of April, and that absolute trust that usually children have because they don't know better. But Napier had to know. She could probably rattle off the pressure rating I could exert with one servo twitch. But she didn't seem the least bit put off by it. She led me through the lab, blithely chatting as if we were old friends.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come here. Let me show you some things I was working on before I retired. All theoretical, of course. Drawing board stage.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We approached a stainless steel cabinet, and its doors slid apart to reveal rows upon rows of blueprints in clear plastic tubes. She ran her hands around them, selecting very specific ones with girlish giggles, and handing them to me, saying things like \"Hold this would you, dear?\" and \"Oh, this is just the keenest thing right here.\" Forty-five seconds later, I had sixteen specs under my arms.\n\nA seventeenth tube cradled on her shoulder, Napier zipped over to a counter, popped the tube, and poured out the spec, which she spread for me to see. \"This is a high-intensity laser emitter,\" she explained. \"Handheld. Or it would be if I could get hold of a battery small and powerful enough.\"\n\nShe snatched another from me and laid it out. \"And this is a new mechanical ball joint which could increase robotic flexibility by six or seven degrees.\" She huffed. \"Except it keeps snapping under excess pressure.\"\n\nHumming, she sorted through the other tubes under my arm. \"I've got a swell improved countergrav generator somewhere in here that I know you'll love.\"\n\n\"You designed these?\" I asked. \"All of these?\"\n\n\"Oh, Mack, aren't you just the yummiest.\" She reached up as if to pinch my cheek, but technically, I don't have cheeks and even if I did, they wouldn't be subject to pinching. She settled for a soft caress. \"Of course, I did, silly. They're not all my work. Most of this is modification and improvement on the work of others. Someone has a problem they can't fix, they come to me. It's wonderful. I get to see all the latest breakthroughs before anyone. Sometimes, I even get to invent them myself.\"\n\nI scanned her face again. Bright-eyed and grinning like a sprightly schoolgirl. My visualizer must've been glitching. \"How old are you?\"\n\n\"Twenty-two,\" she replied absently. \"I'm a child prodigy.\" She laughed. \"Or, I guess I used to be. Now I suppose I'm just a plain old genius. Y'know, Mack, if you're going to be a detective in this town, you might want to know things like that.\"\n\n\"I'm not a detective,\" I replied, but she didn't hear me.\n\nShe chirped. Really, she did. \"Oh, I know you'll just love this!\" she exclaimed as she threw down another set of specs. \"It's a shrink ray. Never got around to building a prototype for testing, but there's absolutely no reason it shouldn't work. Then again, I thought the same thing about the improved freeze ray, and that ended up melting stuff.\" She scowled, and her nose scrunched. \"Not much practical use, but kinda neat.\"\n\nI covered the blueprints with one giant mitt. \"That's great, Miss Napier, very impressive.\"\n\n\"Lucia,\" she corrected. \"It's Lucia. I insist.\"\n\n\"Lucia. Fine.\" Even the inexhaustible patience of a machine had its limits. \"I've taken off my coat. I've let you paw me. And I've looked at your lab and your blueprints. Now it's time to answer my questions.\"\n\nA strange expression crossed her face. I pegged it as disappointed, possibly a little hurt. Didn't make a whole lot of sense, but what functional bot understood biologicals? Not me. And frankly, I was glad I didn't. Cold machine logic worked fine for me, even if the Glitch sometimes encouraged me to ignore it. This was not one of those times.\n\nNapier's frown deepened into a childish pout, and some rogue electrons danced around the edges of my guilt index. I didn't apologize because I hadn't done anything wrong except get a spoiled little rich girl back on track.\n\nOnce she realized no apology was coming, her sulk passed as quickly as it arose. She smiled very slightly, sipped her drink, and headed back to the apartment stairs.\n\n\"Fine, Mack. Ask your questions.\" She cast a demure look over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. \"Although I would point out that there are many men who wouldn't mind being pawed by me.\"\n\n\"I'm not a man,\" I said after I joined her in the apartment.\n\n\"No.\" She flopped down on the couch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You're a machine. A beautiful, elegant, flawless machine.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She bit her lip as she looked me up and down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had that look in her eye, the same gleam Doc Mujahid got when she was staring at my programming codes streaming across her monitors, a look of awe and appreciation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: Frequency requirement: 'don't' - 4 occurrence(s))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But where the doc also had a clinical detachment, Napier showed no such disinterest.\n\nI'd heard of deep technophiles, disciples of science so enamored of technology that it compelled them toward odd attractions, strange compulsions. No one as of yet had confessed publicly to the inclination, but it was only a matter of time until the Temple of Knowledge gave the green light. The technos would come bursting out into public life. In the meantime, they were only a rumor. There might not even be any. Or there might be thousands. No way to know yet, but if they were out there, then Lucia Napier was a prime candidate for charter membership. The way she kept staring at me, disassembling me with her eyes down to the barest blueprints, was downright ravenous.\n\nI wished I had my damn coat back. Rather than ask for it, I decided to get this over with as fast as possible and be on my way.\n\n\"I'm looking for Tony Ringo.\"\n\nHer playful grin faded. \"Now what did a worthless little boy like Tony Ringo do to draw your attention?\"\n\n\"So you know him?\"\n\n\"Yes. But then again, you already know that, don't you? Why else would you be here?\"\n\nI have no expressions to read, but something must have given away my thoughts.\n\n\"Oh, I'm not going to deny we used to hang out together,\" she said. \"He was fun for a little while, good for a few laughs. Harmless, really.\"\n\n\"I think he's taken some friends of mine,\" I said, surprised that I volunteered the information. There was something unsettling about Napier, and it thrust some odd compulsions into my own behavioral directives.\n\n\"Tony?\" She waved her hand. \"Please, Tony couldn't hurt a fly. Not that he wouldn't try. He's just... incapable. A rather pathetic little boy pretending to be a big man.\"\n\n\"Well, maybe he's through pretending. Or worse, maybe he still is pretending, only now he's worked up the guts to give it a go and screw it up.\"\n\nShe tossed her blond hair across her right shoulder. \"Possible, I suppose. But why would Tony take these friends of yours?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Hell, I could be wrong. Only way to know is to find Ringo and ask him.\"\n\n\"And if dear Tony doesn't feel like answering?\" she asked.\n\n\"I'll persuade him.\"\n\n\"Tony can be a very stubborn boy.\"\n\n\"I can be a very persuasive bot,\" I replied.\n\nShe stood and circled me once more before laying both palms on my chest. \"Prove it. Persuade me.\"\n\nI stepped back, and she nearly fell over.\n\n\"Lady, I don't know what you're into, but I'm not interested.\"\n\nI expected that familiar pout to cross her face again, but I guess she'd heard me say no enough times to catch the hint. She smiled, and there was something predatory about that smile, like this wasn't over yet. But it was. The file was closed, the program deleted.\n\n\"I assume you've tried the Hotel Swallow already,\" she said.\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Honestly, I don't know much of Tony's habits. We weren't that close. It was purely a physical relationship. He's very fond of a place called The Golden Diode. It's a club on the bad end of Pi Street. Can't say if he still haunts the place, but he likes jazz and getting drunk. If he's not there, it's a good bet he'll be in the area.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\nI turned to leave, but Humbolt stood in my way. He held out a coat to me. It was mine, but clean and pressed. \"Here's your coat, pal. I took the liberty of givin' it a quick splash and dry. I could stitch up the tears if you gave me a few more minutes.\"\n\n\"No, thanks.\" I took it back and threw it over my shoulder. I'd put it on later, but for now, I wanted out of here. I headed toward the levitator pod and safety.\n\nNapier followed. \"Come back any time, Mack. I'll leave your name with the front desk, let them know to let you up anytime you please. Anytime.\"\n\nI didn't reply. But staying away from Proton Towers was now on the short list of directives, right in front of not poking my optics out with a diamond-tipped auger.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The tube's doors parted, and I stepped inside.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 11 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was tempted to keep my back to Napier, but something made me turn. She was still smiling, though it was a softer, less frisky expression. I wondered when the damn doors would close. They were two seconds behind schedule.\n\n\"Tony likes jazz. Don't know if that'll help, but he does.\"\n\n\"Jazz. Got it.\"\n\nMercifully, the doors started sliding shut.\n\n\"And, Mack,\" she said. \"Hope you find your friends.\"\n\n\"Me, too.\"\n\nAnd then the tube sealed itself, and I was on my way out of Lucia Napier's world for good.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: The user will write a bit then you need to write around sixty-nine sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and lore may appear without context - work with what's given.\n\nAuthor style: A. Lee Martinez", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I figured Ringo wouldn't be showing up at The Golden Diode for his drink until evening. If I'd had any other lead to follow up, I would've continued my search. But I didn't, so I relocated my amateur detective work to a secondary directive and started on the other things I needed to do.\n\nThis in itself was an odd development. Normally, I was loaded with free time. Except for going to work, visiting my shrink, and maybe a stab at socialization every now and then, my schedule consisted entirely of standing in the corner of my apartment, not consuming much juice, staring at the walls, a bot with nothing but time and nothing to do with it. Now I had a short list of objectives that didn't include driving a cab and staying out of trouble.\n\nI stopped by a robot wash and charged a wash and wax job. The Diode might have a dress code, and a smudged chassis might prove a hindrance. It didn't take long to get back my gleaming chassis. There were still traces of damage to my paint job, but beyond that, there wasn't a hint that I'd been subjected to anything more traumatic than an overweight pigeon perching on my shoulder. That was the miracle of my one-of-a-kind alloy, so experimental that there wasn't even a name for it yet. I felt better, more functional. Illogical, since the wash did little to improve my performance except clear some grit from my right elbow joint, and that was a .0003 performance hindrance.\n\nI went back to Jung's apartment and waited for him to get back from work. There was a newspaper waiting at his front door. I found a seat on his sofa and scanned the paper cover to cover while running an internal diagnostic for Grey's worm. Reading was such a low level task, it left 99 percent of my processing power free to dig around in my electronic brain.\n\nIt'd been a while since I'd read a paper. The details were different, but the world was all the same. The Biological Rights League was saying bad stuff about robots. The Learned Council was pushing some new technological breakthrough. The Big Brains were discussing the utopian world we—I guess that included me, too—were creating. A couple of labs exploded. Crime was up. Mutant births were up. Pollution was up. Business as usual.\n\nThere was a brief article about my apartment exploding on page eight. It measured exactly two inches by one inch, including the stock photo of me. Explosions weren't that big a deal in Empire, but you'd think my former celebrity status would've earned me at least another three-fourths of an inch.\n\nInternally, I'd come up with nothing, something I was getting used to. Grey's psychic empathy with machines must've been pretty high-end stuff. Or maybe by now my maintenance protocols had already expunged his influence, isolated and devoured the foreign program. It was always possible.\n\nThere was a distinctly metal against metal knock on the door. A robot. Immediately, I thought of Knuckles. But there was no reason to suspect he'd found me here. Still, my aggression index hoped to hell it was as I opened the door.\n\nIt was Humbolt, Lucia Napier's butler auto. \"Yo, Mack. Gotch'ya gift from Miss Napier here.\" Without giving me time to refuse, he strode into the apartment with a big box under his arm. He tossed the box on the coffee table and saluted. \"There you go, pal. Enjoy it.\"\n\nHe moved toward the door again, but I grabbed him by the shoulder.\n\n\"Don't wrinkle the suit, bub,\" he said.\n\n\"What's this about?\" I asked.\n\n\"Retune your audios, Mack. It's a gift from the lady. Y'know, the one you met earlier today. Classy dame. Big penthouse. Real doll in a squishy organic way.\"\n\n\"I didn't ask for anything.\"\n\n\"You don't have to ask for gifts. That's part a what makes 'em gifts.\"\n\n\"What if I don't want it?\"\n\n\"Then throw it out,\" he replied. \"The boss wanted me to deliver it personally, so that's what I did. What you do with it afterward ain't my problem.\" He stepped back and smoothed his jacket. \"But if I were you, I'd take it. You could use some style, if you ask me.\"\n\n\"How'd you find me?\"\n\n\"You stuck in a question askin' loop, Mack? The lady has ways of keepin' tabs on guys.\"\n\n\"Guys like me?\" I asked. \"Guys like Tony Ringo?\" Maybe Humbolt was right. Maybe I was stuck in a loop.\n\n\"She don't bother with losers like Ringo,\" he said. \"Guess you must've caught her eye.\"\n\nI went over to the box and opened it. Inside was a dark blue suit, pinstriped. I pulled out the jacket and wasn't surprised it was large enough to fit my shoulders. It looked expensive and obviously custom-made. I wondered how much it cost Napier to have one whipped up so quickly.\n\n\"It's a fabric of the boss's own design,\" said Humbolt. \"Fireproof, puncture-proof, and wrinkle-resistant. Breathes like cotton, though you ain't likely to notice that. Durable stuff. You'll pop a stitch before it does. Ink ain't even dry on the patent papers yet, so the lady must like you.\"\n\nI tossed the jacket onto the table.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What does she want in return?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Nothin'. She just likes givin' gifts.\"\n\n\"Gifts to guys like me,\" I said.\n\nHe nodded. \"To guys like you.\"\n\nI couldn't see the point in asking Humbolt any more questions so I let him leave. I laid out the suit on the couch and scanned it slowly up and down. Pinstripes weren't my style, but it was a nice garment, complete with a dark blue trench coat. The only thing missing was a hat.\n\nThere was also a card. It read:\n\nDear Mack,\n\nIf you're going to play detective, you should at least ] look the part.\n\nHugs and Kisses,\n\nLucia\n\nThere was something else in the box: a painting of an idyllic garden villa that had only a few hours ago hung in a levitation pod in Proton Towers. I set this aside and left the suit on the couch until Jung finally showed up.\n\nHe grunted a hello as he loped over to the refrigerator and found an apple.\n\n\"Hard day at work?\" I asked, trying to slide into things gracefully.\n\n\"Usual.\" The gorilla lumbered over, and ran his fingers along the crease in the trousers. \"Where'd you pick this up?\"\n\n\"It's a gift from a friend.\"\n\n\"You don't have any friends, Mack.\" He polished the apple on his lapel. \"Except me, and even I'm not always sure about that.\"\n\n\"It's a new development.\"\n\n\"Are you going to try it on?\" he asked.\n\n\"Maybe.\" My vocalizer spit out a bit of static, my version of clearing my throat nervously. \"Jung, remember this morning when you said something about friends helping each other?\"\n\nHe bit into his apple while fixing his beady, black eyes on me. \"Yeah, Mack. I remember.\"\n\nSo I asked him for a favor, and he just nodded and agreed.\n\n\"It could be dangerous. A little bit dangerous. Maybe.\" I sighed. \"Forget it. Never mind.\"\n\n\"Let me get out of this monkey suit.\" The gorilla lumbered toward his bedroom.\n\n\"You don't have to do it. It's okay if you change your mind.\"\n\nHe paused at the doorway. \"Forget it, Mack. No big deal.\"\n\nBut it was a big deal. I'd never asked for a favor like this before, and I still didn't feel right putting Jung in this position. There was some danger involved. I calculated a 3 percent chance of something going wrong with this plan, though there was only a 4 percent chance it'd pay off at all.\n\n\"You better get dressed, too,\" shouted Jung from the other room. \"The clubs usually have a dress code.\"\n\nThe suit fit perfectly, but I had to borrow Jung's nimble fingers to help with the tie. I had to admit I looked damn good in it. Of course, the very notion of caring at all about aesthetics showed I was more illogical than I wanted to admit. As for Jung, he changed into a deep purple suit that, from my limited perspective, was two degrees below tacky. He also stuck a rose in the lapel, which ended up making him look a bit like a cross between King Kong and a flashy gangster. But he was doing me a favor, so I kept my fashion sense to myself.\n\nEmpire's unofficial stance on the arts was one of tolerant indifference. In the Learned Council's ideal city, all citizens would be dedicated to productive tasks. This was a big reason why they'd created the Automated Citizens Act. Robots didn't bother with music or books or television. We did our jobs and never complained.\n\nBiologicals had needs beyond a steady task and a place to recharge. They needed rest, relaxation, and, of course, stimulation. That was just the way it was, and the Big Brains had come to accept it. There was even one government-funded entertainment center. It was small and no one knew where it was, but the Big Brains assured us it was out there somewhere. There were plenty of private clubs, art galleries, and movie houses scattered throughout the city, and the Learned Council allowed their existence.\n\nThe only exception was found in jazz music. It was too disorderly, too wild and unpredictable. Too unscientific. While not strictly against the law, it was no secret the Learned Council discouraged its continued existence. And since biologicals were such illogical, uncooperative creatures it flourished. Rock and roll continued its spectacular rise in the rest of the world, but in Empire, jazz still reigned supreme.\n\nClubs were scattered all over the city, collecting in bunches in lower-class neighborhoods. Some were dark and hidden. Others were shining and obvious.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Golden Diode fell into the latter category.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "In fact, the entire length of Pi Street was one sparkling, grimy, noisy monument to baser biological urges.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the kind of place where people went to be cool, to be seen being cool, and to pretend that they didn't care if you saw them being cool.\n\nIt was early evening when Jung and I arrived at The Golden Diode and not much was going on yet. There was a doorman on duty, but he didn't seem up to his job yet and let us pass through with nary a glance. Outside, the Diode had been bright, glittering neon, but inside was another story. It was dimly lit to convince a customer of its sullen, moody atmosphere. And to hide the fact that it was a real dive. The exterior must've drained the decorating budget because there wasn't much on the other side of the door but a stage, a bunch of tables, and a bar. The place was quiet, the crowd yet to arrive this early. Probably wouldn't be much going on until after ten.\n\nA little waif of a cigarette girl intercepted us, stepping in front of me. \"Don't get many a your kind 'round here, pal.\"\n\n\"Cab drivers?\" I asked, pretending not to understand because something about her, maybe the way she chewed her gum like it deserved to suffer, put me in a hostile mode.\n\n\"Bots,\" she replied with some irritation, though not noticeably more than she seemed to carry by default. She pursed her lips, blew a bubble until it popped, then sucked it all back down except for a small remnant on her cheek that she'd failed to notice. \"Twenty bucks,\" she said.\n\n\"No, thanks,\" I replied. \"Don't smoke.\" To drive the point home, I tapped my faceplate where my mouth wasn't.\n\nShe groaned. \"It's twenty bucks just for walkin' through the door, smartbot. Ricky should've collected it from you, but he's a lazy goddamn prick.\"\n\n\"Sign out front says there's no cover before nine.\"\n\n\"That's for bios,\" she replied with more frustration and proceeded to masticate her gum harder for my sins. \"Bots always gotta pay.\"\n\n\"Isn't that discriminatory?\"\n\nThe waif smiled, and I could tell her face hurt from the effort. \"We're runnin' a business here, pal. Bots come in, don't drink nothing', don't eat nothin', just stand around taking up space.\"\n\n\"I'll buy a drink,\" I offered.\n\n\"Then what? There's a two drink minimum, but don't nobody buy two drinks once the party starts. Except bots. Bots don't drink nothin', don't eat nothin', just—\"\n\n\"Yeah, I got it. I got it. Twenty bucks seems kind of steep though, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"If it were up to me, we wouldn't even let your kind through the door.\" She smiled again, and this time, looked like she meant it. \"But it ain't up to me. Now twenty bucks. Or do I gotta call the cops?\"\n\nI calculated that as a bluff. Dives like this didn't call the cops. They had ways of handling their own security needs, usually involving back alley legbreakers and superheated electroprods. Though I wasn't in much danger from either, I didn't need to raise a stink. I dug out the twenty bucks and handed it to her.\n\n\"Thank you very much, sir,\" she said with all the warmth of a death ray. \"Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.\"\n\nI stopped her. \"What? No complimentary cigarettes?\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes and vanished into the gloom.\n\n\"How do you want to do this?\" asked Jung.\n\nMost robots had the advantage of being factory models. They might have a modification here or there, but in the end, they looked alike except for different serial number and any distinguishing features their owners might care to add. Even the many hundred automated citizens all came from standard issue before gaining their citizenship and except for the red paint slapped on their chassis, they were fairly nondescript.\n\nBut I was one of a kind, a limited edition. The professor had created a few other prototypes, but they'd been seized and dismantled before ever being activated. There was only me. It didn't help any that I was a big bot or that some people still remembered me from the media's brief infatuation with my reformation. It was hard to stand out in a crowd in Empire, but I managed better than most. If Tony Ringo spotted me coming, he'd teleport away, and I'd be back to square one.\n\nIt would be Jung's job to watch the door, while I sat quietly in some nearby darkened corner, just out of sight. Hopefully, Ringo would make his appearance, Jung would flash me a signal, and I'd be able to sneak up and grab Ringo before he noticed. There were a lot of variables in the plan, the most obvious being that Tony Ringo would have to be an idiot to show up at a regular hangout when people were looking for him. But I had a rationality-contradicting hypothesis he couldn't stay away. It was a biological thing to do. They were creatures of habit. Like robots without the smarts.\n\nI found a good spot by the door that might work, and Jung took a seat at the bar. He ordered a drink while he waited. It wasn't a banana daiquiri, but my rudimentary sense of humor found some enjoyment in imagining it was.\n\nWe waited.\n\nI don't mind waiting. Waiting is simple. Waiting is easy. Waiting gets rid of all the pressure until something finally happens. I wanted Ringo to show, and I wanted it to lead to Julie and the kids, back to everything being normal and me driving a cab, and nothing interesting happening. Not because I hated this detective stuff. In some small way, I suspected it was beginning to grow on me. But this wasn't about me. This was about the Bleakers, a perfectly nice family that might need my help. Big emphasis on the might.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Golden Diode filled up with customers over the next three hours, and as the crowd grew, I began to suspect this was a waste of time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the first time in my functioning, waiting became something vaguely discomforting. Fourteen minutes past eleven o'clock, I began calculating other courses of action. There were plenty of jazz clubs on Pi Street. Maybe I'd have been smarter to patrol them all than stake out one. Maybe I wasn't in the right neighborhood at all. Maybe Tony Ringo had blown town, and maybe I was wasting my time. It's never fun second-guessing yourself, and with an electronic brain capable of spitting out four hundred and sixteen different scenarios a minute once it gets started, it can become downright discouraging.\n\n\"Penny for your calculations, handsome.\"\n\nIt was Lucia Napier. I didn't move my opticals from Jung, so I didn't see her, but I recognized the voice.\n\n\"Had a feeling you'd be here.\" Her hand ran up and down my arm. \"Love the suit. It looks good on you.\"\n\n\"I don't have time for this,\" I said coldly.\n\n\"Oh, relax. Tony never shows up before eleven-thirty.\"\n\nI turned my head enough that Jung remained in the corner of my vision. Napier was wearing a shimmering, low-cut number that hugged her curves and displayed her many charms.\n\n\"Why didn't you tell me that before?\" I asked.\n\n\"Slipped my mind, I guess.\" She smiled. \"Care for a dance, handsome?\"\n\n\"I don't dance.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on. One dance can't hurt anything.\" She grabbed my hand and pulled. I stayed put.\n\n\"Lady, I know this is all fun and games to you, but I'm here on business.\"\n\n\"Oh, fine. You should learn to lighten up. You'll function longer.\" She shrugged. \"Business, huh? And I thought you were just a cab driver.\"\n\nI caught the signal from Jung, and my opticals moved toward the door. There was Tony Ringo. I slinked cautiously toward him, hunching low and still standing taller than the rest of the crowd. If I could get close enough.\n\nRingo turned in my direction and saw me. In one second his squishy brain made the connection and with less than a dozen steps to reach him through the crowd, his hand was already in his jacket, getting ready to push his magic button to make him disappear.\n\nJung came up behind him and clocked Ringo across the back of the head. Ringo tumbled hard. A blinking metal disk fell out of his jacket, and rolled across the floor. Stunned, Ringo crawled for it, trying not to get stepped on in the confusion. He grabbed it, but before he could do anything else, my foot fell across his hand and the disk. I leaned on him. The disk and his hand shattered. There was probably a loud crunch from both, but the jazz music swallowed that whole. His yelp of pain drew some attention though.\n\nI grabbed Ringo by the back of his jacket and lifted him off the ground. He was swearing, red-faced, clutching his hand.\n\n\"Thanks for the help,\" I told Jung.\n\nHe shrugged. \"Forget about it.\"\n\n\"My hand!\" whined Ringo. \"You broke my goddamn hand.\"\n\nMy sympathy ratio for him was remarkably low. I grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him over to the bar. No one tried to stop me. No one even looked as if they cared. Except for the bouncers, who had yet to make a move. They might change their minds in a minute, but for now they decided Ringo wasn't worth the trouble.\n\n\"You got a phone?\" I asked the bartender.\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Who are you calling?\" asked Jung.\n\nI wasn't sure. The impulse and the number just came to me the moment I laid hands on Ringo.\n\nThe phone rang three times and someone picked up. It wasn't Grey or Knuckles, but I had no doubt it was one of their buddies.\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"It's Megaton,\" I said. \"I've got Ringo.\"\n\nThe voice on the end made a snorting noise. I told him where we were, and he said he was sending over a ride, a gray Condor. That was it. I didn't hesitate, and I knew I'd hand Ringo over because Grey had me by the directives. My artificial will was no longer entirely my own, but there was still some leeway. I'd give Ringo up, but not before I got a chance to question him.\n\n\"Thanks, Jung. You can go home now. Or have another drink. I've got him now.\" I lifted Ringo off the ground and gave him a hard shake. \"Trust me. You don't want to see what's about to happen.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[OOC: Work this phrase into your response organically: \"When my friends hear about this they're going to burn you a new exhaust port.\"]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You fuckin' bastard!\" roared Ringo. \"You're gonna pull my damn arm off!\"\n\n\"Relax, Tony,\" I said. \"You've got three others.\"\n\n\"Okay, Mack. It's your call.\" Jung hopped back to his seat on the bar. \"Just try to stay out of trouble.\"\n\n\"I'm not the one in trouble.\" I shook Ringo again. He howled. \"And thanks again. I wouldn't have caught him without you.\"\n\nJung smiled very slightly. \"I know.\"\n\nI dragged Ringo through the kitchen and into the back alley. It was a quiet place to talk. The only other resident was a bum snoozing by a Dumpster. No telling what other weird science doodads Ringo might have tucked away in that coat, though I suspected if he'd had anything useful, he would've already pulled it. I threw him face first into the wall and performed a quick search. I turned up a shiny new Zap and Heater raygun, the very latest model. In the interest of public safety, I crushed it and tossed it into the Dumpster.\n\nThe door swung open, and Lucia, her loyal butler auto at her side, stepped into the alley. I couldn't get rid of her. Still, I tried.\n\n\"You aren't going to want to see this, Lucia,\" I said. \"It's not going to be pretty.\"\n\n\"You'd be surprised what she's seen,\" said Humbolt.\n\nI sighed, but I had higher priority dictates than one spoiled little rich girl.\n\n\"The Bleakers, Tony.\"\n\n\"Piss off, tinman.\"\n\n\"That attitude is only going to make this harder.\"\n\nI slammed Ringo against the wall a few times. Not hard enough to break anything, but enough to get his attention.\n\n\"Oh, you are making a big goddamn mistake, you stupid metalhead,\" groaned Ringo. \"When my friends hear about this they're going to burn you a new exhaust port.\"\n\n\"We both know you don't have any friends, Tony. I don't know how much time we have here, so we're going to have to be quick. I'll say it again: Bleakers. What did you do with them?\"\n\nI flipped him around and held him by the collar. I would've grabbed him by the throat, but I didn't want to accidentally snap his neck. Biologicals could be so fragile.\n\n\"I don't know any Bleakers, man.\"\n\nI thumped him in the breadbox with a single finger. He exhaled painfully.\n\n\"I know you're stupid, Tony, but I didn't think you were stupid enough to lie to a robot.\" I tapped my gut where my electronic brain was housed. \"Memory matrix never lies.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" he wheezed. \"I know 'em. But I didn't have nothing to do with their disappearance. I swear.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Tony, you really are an idiot. I didn't say anything about a disappearance.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you did.\"\n\nI tapped my gut again. \"Memory matrix, Tony.\"\n\n\"Look, you can do whatever you want, but I ain't telling you shit.\"\n\n\"See, here's the thing, Tony...\"\n\nI grabbed his broken hand and squeezed. He screamed. I squeezed a little harder, and he screamed a lot louder. His fingers were bent in painful, unnatural angles. He must've been tougher than I gave him credit for because he stopped screaming, glaring through teary eyes.\n\n\"You fuckin' defect! You goddamn—\" His string of swears became incomprehensible. The risk of caving in his skull kept me from smacking him. Instead, I let him slide down the wall and sob for thirty-five seconds.\n\nLucia was beside me now. My facial analyzer came up blank. She definitely wasn't bothered by this, but whether or not she liked it, I couldn't tell.\n\n\"Tell him what he wants to know, Tony,\" she said. \"It'll only get worse.\"\n\nRingo pursed his lips tightly shut.\n\nI hoisted him off his feet. \"Pick an arm.\"\n\nRingo gritted his teeth and spit into my face. The saliva dripped down my faceplate. I didn't know if he thought I was bluffing or if he was just stupid. But he shrieked his head off when I snapped his right ulna.\n\nI gave him another thirty-five seconds to collect himself.\n\n\"Oh, quit your whining, Tony. It's a small break.\"\n\n\"You're crazy.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(authors note, Precise word count needed: 'understand' × 2)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Tony sweetie,\" said Lucia Napier from behind me. \"Dear Mack here isn't crazy. He's a merciless killing machine.\"\n\n\"I told you, tinman,\" grumbled Ringo hoarsely. \"I ain't telling you nothing.\"\n\n\"I'll give you credit, Tony. According to my predictability profile, you should've talked by now. Either you're tougher than I gave you credit for or you think someone is scarier than me. Guess I'll have to show you how serious I am.\"\n\nHe was trembling, sweating, and crying.\n\nNapier was right. I didn't have mercy. Not that I wanted to hurt Ringo. His bones snapped too easily to give me much satisfaction.\n\n\"Have it your way. But I don't have much time, and you've got a lot of arms.\"\n\n\"Wait, wait!\" Ringo kept squirming in my iron grip, but he wasn't going anywhere. \"I don't know nothing! I swear I don't! They don't tell me anything! And even if I could tell you where they're keeping the kid, it wouldn't make any difference. It's too late to stop it now.\"\n\nSince my faceplate was featureless, I could keep my surprise to myself. I didn't understand much of what Ringo was talking about, but I got the meat of it. Someone had taken the Bleakers for one of the kids. But which kid and for what purpose?\n\n\"Tell me who has them,\" I said. \"That's all I want to know.\"\n\nRingo looked puzzled. \"Wait a minute. You don't know?\"\n\n\"Know what?\"\n\nHe frowned. \"You don't work for Greenman?\"\n\n\"Never heard of him.\"\n\n\"Oh, shit! You really don't know who he is. You really just care about that family.\" He started laughing. It was a rough, humorless chuckle that danced on the edge of hysteria. \"You poor, dumb defect, you got no idea what you're in the middle of.\"\n\nBefore I could ask what he meant, light flooded the alley. I marveled at how fast Grey's guys had gotten here. Then I realized it wasn't a gray Condor descending, but a cherry red Albatross.\n\nThe Albatross was a luxury rotorcraft, meaning it was big and blocky: a flying rectangle of steel with some fins stuck on the tail for style. Its three whisper-quiet rotors kicked up a lot of wind and dust as it landed beside the Dumpster. The rotors slowed but kept spinning as I gathered these guys weren't planning on sticking around long.\n\n\"Mack, what's going on?\" asked Lucia.\n\n\"I told you to go back in the club,\" I said. \"Now shut up and stay back.\"\n\nWhether she was insulted or not, she had enough sense not to argue.\n\nThe Albatross's back doors slid open. Two goons stepped out. They walked in front of the headlights to try and stay shadowy, but my polarized opticals gave me a clear view of a couple of rough-looking biologicals. One had a thick neck and a harelip. The other had yellow skin and white hair and had a clear dome filled with some kind of bluish gas over his head. He also had tentacles instead of arms. Both wore suits, and Harelip had his jacket open to show a raygun tucked in his belt.\n\n\"Oh, krask, am I glad to see you guys,\" said Ringo. \"I thought I was done for.\"\n\nDome Head spoke. He didn't move his lips, but some veins throbbed on his temples and a voice issued from a speaker strapped around his throat. The noise that came out was gibberish to me, but Ringo seemed to understand. He replied in some gibberish of his own. I was fluent in twenty-eight different languages, and I didn't get a word of it.\n\nWhile Dome Head and Ringo shared their brief exchange, Harelip stared at me. He stood stock still. I couldn't detect him even breathing. He just kept staring.\n\nDome Head must've said something that put Ringo off because his next reply was in plain old English. \"Hey, I know I wasn't supposed to go out, but I got bored. It's not like it matters, right? Not like anyone can stop us, right?\"\n\nDome Head switched over to English, too. \"You were warned, Tony. This operation is far too important to jeopardize. Your sloppiness has proven too great a liability.\"\n\n\"Whoa, you can't be serious,\" said Ringo. \"I mean, what's the big deal?\"\n\n\"Hate to interrupt,\" I said. \"But I'm not done with him. You can have him after I'm finished.\"\n\nDome Head smiled mirthlessly. \"Mister Megaton, we respect all life, even artificial life. Please don't make us resort to physical violence.\"\n\nNeither of these guys were much to look at. Dome Head was barely five feet tall and ninety-five pounds at the most. Harelip was significantly larger than your average human, but there was nothing to indicate I couldn't take that gun away from him and pound him into a puddle. Despite my impressive specs, I'd learned to anticipate the unexpected. These two seemed to know who I was, so there was reason to assume their threats weren't empty. I also assumed they weren't as confident as they appeared, or they would've just taken Ringo. Unfortunately, the choice wasn't mine to make.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grey's psychic reprogramming would keep me from handing over Tony Ringo. A confrontation was inevitable, and my battle analyzer came back inconclusive.\n\nSo much for the miracles of modern superscience.\n\nHumbolt unbuttoned his coat to reveal his own heater. \"If there's trouble, Mack, I got you covered.\"\n\nI wasn't worried about Humbolt. He looked like he could handle himself. But Lucia was a liability. When things went down, I couldn't protect both Ringo and her.\n\n\"There's not going to be any trouble,\" I said. \"Everybody's going to stay cool. I think we're all smart enough to know nobody wins if things get ugly.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" said Dome Head. \"Which is why I suggest you release Mr. Ringo into our custody. This is not a negotiation, Mr. Megaton.\"\n\nHarelip pulled his roscoe. He didn't aim it at anyone but held it at his side.\n\n\"I only need five more minutes.\"\n\nI was buying some time. If my rendezvous showed, these jokers might reconsider their position. Of course, then I'd have a whole new bunch of guys who'd want to take Ringo from me, but one thing at a time.\n\nDome Head whipped out his tentacles. It was so fast, I didn't even record it on my optics. One tendril looped around my legs. The other wrapped around Ringo, but I kept my grip.\n\nHarelip charged forward and smashed me right across the cranial unit. Hard. The guy was strong as a construction drone. With my legs bound together, I lost my balance and fell over. I didn't let go of Ringo. Nothing can make me let go of something once I've got hold of it. I'd sooner see Ringo ripped in half than release him. From Ringo's pained shrieks, I'd say Dome Head felt the same way.\n\nHumbolt drew his pistol and got off three shots. Point blank. He couldn't miss. But Dome Head activated a personal forcefield, and the blasts dissipated before reaching him.\n\nHarelip didn't bother pulling his gun. He turned and ripped off Humbolt's arm. The arm without the raygun. That's how indifferent he was to the blasts singeing his chest. Humbolt was a stubborn auto and kept firing for all the good it did him. Harelip knocked the auto's head off with one punch, caved in Humbolt's chest with another. The butler auto collapsed into a twitching pile of scrap.\n\nDome Head kept his attention on me the whole time. He tightened the pressure.\n\n\"You cannot win, Mr. Megaton,\" he said. \"I would think you'd possess enough logic to realize that.\"\n\nI let go of Ringo, catching Dome Head by surprise. His tentacle snapped back like a rubber band, and Ringo smacked right into him. I figured Dome Head's forcefield was meant for energy blasts. I figured right. Dome Head was knocked off his feet, and the tentacle wrapped around my legs went slack.\n\nI couldn't hope for much time from the distraction. I cranked my power levels up and ran to Dome Head. Harelip moved to intercept. I shoved my fist into his face full force. It didn't crush in his head, but it bloodied his nose and put a wobble in his knees. I unleashed a haymaker that sent him sprawling. I didn't take the time to congratulate myself but turned back on Dome Head.\n\nHis tentacles whipped again, but I was ready this time. I caught one in each hand, and yanked him into the air, swinging him in a high arc and smashing him down into the ground. Then I did it again. His helmet cracked, leaking little wisps of blue smoke. He started hyperventilating and flopping around like a fish out of water.\n\nTony Ringo had yet to recover from being caught in the middle of a tug-of-war, and I grabbed him before he got the chance. I was kind enough not to seize him by his broken arm.\n\nA scream filled my audios. Lucia Napier. In the eleven-second conflict, I'd lost track of her. Now I turned to scan her held in Harelip's clutches. The guy was thick-skinned, all right.\n\nHe grinned, licked his bloodied face with a long green tongue. \"Power down,\" he said. \"Hand over Ringo, and I won't break her neck.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can't do it.\"\n\nHarelip scowled, showing rows of crooked, jagged teeth. \"Don't think I'm bluffing.\"\n\n\"I don't. But I can't give you Ringo. There's a foreign directive in my programming. I don't have a choice.\"\n\nNapier didn't appear nervous, though it was hard to tell since the bruiser's hand covered half her face. As for me, I was cool as stainless steel. It was just the way I was manufactured. Some small regret came to me. Napier may have been a pain, but she didn't deserve to die over a two-time loser like Ringo. I'd warned her not to be here.\n\n\"Then I guess this dame ain't much good to me,\" said Harelip.\n\n\"No,\" I disagreed. \"Right now, she's the only thing keeping me from pounding you into paste. Want to see how long you'll last if you hurt her? Trust me, it'll be the longest five minutes of your life.\"\n\nHarelip smiled as he tightened his grip. \"You're bluffing.\"\n\n\"I never bluff. Not part of my personality template. But I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you're a tough guy, and sure, you're pretty strong. And I can tell you're a fast healer by the way your black eye has disappeared already. But I'd put my indestructible alloy up against mutant flesh and blood any day.\n\n\"But you're also thinking of Tony here.\" I gave Ringo a good shake. \"I'll be fighting at a disadvantage, seeing as how I have no choice but to hold onto him, and since he is a fragile little thing, I'll have to spend a lot of time making sure he doesn't get creamed by a random punch.\"\n\nHarelip grinned. \"That's what I'm thinking.\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" I relented. \"Guess it's your call then.\"\n\nHe didn't think long before doing the last thing I would've predicted. He went for his heater. I'll admit it. Sometimes, when the unexpected happens, I can freeze up. It wasn't much, two-thirds of a second. Enough for Harelip to pull his gun and aim it at Ringo's head. If I'd been faster, I could've put myself between Ringo and the blast. But I wasn't fast enough.\n\nBefore Harelip could pull the trigger he was suddenly lit up with streams of purple voltage. He didn't utter a sound, released his hostage and went limp. Napier stepped aside. Drooling, Harelip tried to shake off the effects.\n\nShe tapped her belt. \"The Napier Brand Personal Defense Shock-o-tronic Field Generator. Every girl should have one.\"\n\nBefore Harelip could regain his senses I took advantage of the opportunity to work him over. A blow to the gut, a couple of jabs, and he was still standing. He wasn't as strong as me, but the guy could take a beating all right. A hard right cross finally knocked him off his feet and into dreamland.\n\n\"I didn't think you invented anymore,\" I said.\n\n\"Oh, just something I threw together one restless night.\"\n\nI scanned the remains of Humbolt. He was only an auto. According to the law he could no more be killed than a vacuum cleaner. True, he was just a bunch of wires and cogs and if someone spread them out across a table it would be so many scattered parts. Put them together in a dozen different ways and end up with a dozen different machines. But then again, the same thing could've been said of me.\n\n\"Sorry about your robot,\" I said.\n\nNapier knelt over Humbolt's torso. \"Don't worry, Mack. His brain is reinforced.\" She pushed a button and his chest opened to reveal a small titanium box. Much smaller than most robot brains, but Napier was a genius. \"Oh, yeah. No problem. I'll get him home and pop him into a spare chassis. Good as new.\"\n\nThat was a relief.\n\nI said, \"Uh, and I'm sorry about—\"\n\n\"Oh, please, Mack. You don't have to apologize. You told me not to follow you into the alley. Anyway, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.\"\n\nShe reached up and put her hand on my cheek. She wasn't upset with me at all. Lucia Napier was a strange woman. Strange, but endearing.\n\nRingo squirmed in my grasp, but he wasn't going anywhere. He also spit out some idle threats that I ignored.\n\nHarelip was still out for the count, but the funny thing was his face, which a bare fourteen seconds ago was mashed into a bloody pulp. Now it was now nice and unbroken. And I estimated he'd be awake by now except for that weird Shock-o-tronic device Napier had zapped him with.\n\nI searched Dome Head. It wasn't easy with him flopping around, but I found a teleportation disk, like Ringo used, in his coat pocket.\n\n\"Oh, what's that?\" she asked.\n\n\"Some kind of teleportation gizmo.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I performed a quick search of Harelip and found his own disk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was smashed. No surprise there.\n\nI tossed the intact gizmo to Napier.\n\n\"A gift?\" she asked.\n\n\"You can keep it, Lucia, as long as you tell me anything interesting you find when you crack it open.\"\n\n\"Deal.\" She dropped it in her purse. \"So what do you expect me to find?\"\n\n\"I don't know, but that's some hi-tech. Figure it's worth a look.\"\n\n\"Why, Mister Megaton, you're beginning to sound more like a detective and less like a cab driver every minute.\"\n\nShe was right. There was something appealing about breaking bones and asking questions, about mixing it up with lowlifes and intellectual dames. It was a damn sight more stimulating than shuttling uptowners around the city.\n\nI yanked Dome Head by his tie. \"Who do you work for? And why would anyone go to this much trouble to kidnap a couple of kids?\"\n\nHe gasped and gurgled. Harelip wasn't in any condition to talk either.\n\nA new rotorcar roared into the alley. The Condor was a sporty model, 83 percent the size of the Albatross. It had rounded corners and a small, radiator-mounted prop that moved way too slowly for any practical performance and was simply there for aesthetics. The alley was big but crowded. Still, the driver was skilled enough to set her down in the small space available.\n\n\"Let me guess,\" said Napier. \"You want me to shut up and stay back.\"\n\nI tapped my faceplate where my nose could've been. She got the gesture anyway.\n\nTwo guys stepped out. They looked like norms, but there was no way of knowing for sure. I was running across a statistically improbable number of mutants lately, so I didn't rule anything out.\n\nThe shorter one eyed Dome Head dangling from the tie in my right hand and Tony Ringo clutched in my left. \"We're here for Ringo.\"\n\nI dropped Dome Head. His helmet hit the ground with a glassy chime.\n\n\"You can have him, but I want to talk to your boss.\"\n\nThe norms chuckled. \"Just give him to us.\"\n\nOf course, they knew I didn't have a choice. I knew it too. Then again, I was still holding onto Ringo. Maybe Grey's reprogramming was finally slipping.\n\n\"Look,\" I said. \"We had a little bit of trouble in this alley. Blastfire, yelling, fisticuffs, the whole nine yards. Now maybe in this neighborhood at this time of night that won't attract any attention. Or maybe there just happened to be a Tank monitor drone nearby to detect all the unsociable doings, and a rotorcar has already been dispatched. All I know is that I've got Ringo, and I'll hand him over eventually, but it might be a minute or five. Now why don't you use that two-way radio wristwatch and see what your boss wants to do?\"\n\nThe short guy nodded to his buddy, who shuffled off by the Condor and had a six-second conversation before nodding back to shorty.\n\n\"Okay,\" he said, \"but what about the skirt?\"\n\n\"Skirt stays,\" I replied.\n\n\"Too bad. She's got nice stems.\"\n\nShorty leaned over and rapped on Dome Head's helmet.\n\n\"Make yourself useful, bot, and throw these mooks in the trunk, would ya?\"\n\nI was happy to oblige, considering I was getting a free ride. It was a tight fit, but I managed to cram both Harelip and Dome Head in. Before they shut it, they gave Harelip an injection of some yellow liquid. Knocked him right out.\n\nI tossed Tony Ringo into the backseat of the Condor and shoved in beside him. It was a tight squeeze, but Ringo wound up on the losing end of the deal so I didn't mind.\n\n\"Keep in touch, Mack,\" said Napier.\n\nI nodded to her, then shut the door. The rotorcar lifted off, and we were on our way.\n\nA partition slid up between the front and backseat and every window went pitch black. The boss must've liked his privacy and didn't want any robot recording his home address.\n\n\"It's not too late,\" said Ringo. \"I know you can tear this car to pieces. We can escape. I know people.\"\n\n\"So I keep hearing, Tony.\" I spread out a little in my seat and mashed him against the door. \"Now shut up and enjoy the ride.\"\n\nI did consider his offer, but it was a moot point. Though I seemed to have regained some control of myself, Grey was still pushing the buttons. More importantly, I was pretty sure Ringo was a small-time hood, a loser who didn't know much of anything. It was better to move up the ladder and see who was waiting on the top rung.\n\nWe flew around for an hour and fifteen minutes. A good rotorcar, depending on skyway traffic, could cover half of Empire in that time, but there was also the likely probability the car was circling a few extra minutes as an extra precaution. Finally we landed.\n\nThe windows cleared. We were in a personal hangar. It was big enough for a collection of rotorcars, many of them pristine classics. There was even a Wright Wyvern that looked as if it'd just rolled off the factory floor. Except they hadn't been made in factories, and last I'd heard there were only three in existence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was no trace of the outside world, no way of knowing where I was.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 39 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Work this phrase into your response organically: \"Hey, Mack, good to see you,\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some thugs snatched Ringo, Dome Head, and Harelip. They were all mutants, and one of them had a head resembling an orange jellyfish. That was an extreme mutation, the likes of which you rarely saw even in Tomorrow's Town.\n\nHe caught me scanning. \"You got a problem, buddy?\"\n\n\"No problem,\" I replied. \"But you might want to grab a napkin. You're dripping all over your collar.\"\n\nHe executed a maneuver with his tentacles that I could only assume was derogatory in nature.\n\nJellyfish and the gang dragged Ringo and his buddies one way while Shorty directed me another. On the other side of that hangar was a long hallway with plush carpeting and good old-fashioned simulated light fixtures. The photon generator even did a fair replication of soft candlelight. There were odd paintings on the wall, full of shapes and colors but all abstract and unrecognizable. Somewhere a six-year-old finger painter was making a fortune.\n\nWe stopped at one of the doors. It had an actual handle. Shorty had to reach over and turn it, and the door didn't slide open but instead swung on hinges. I'd heard about doors like that, scanned them in movies, but it was a weird thing to scan in person.\n\n\"They're waiting for you,\" said my escort.\n\nI stepped inside. They closed the door behind me. On the other side was a greenhouse. Except it was red, not green. It didn't have a glass roof but a bunch of soft crimson spotlights overhead. It was filled with plants, almost every single one a strange blue color with hexagonal leaves. I didn't recognize them, but foliage wasn't part of my database, and you didn't scan a lot of greenery in Empire. Or blue-ery.\n\nKnuckles the Mark Three was there, still wearing my bowler. And Grey sat in a cozy chair beside the auto.\n\n\"Hey, Mack, good to see you,\" said Grey.\n\nKnuckles beeped in a decidedly sarcastic way.\n\nSomething ruffled in the bunch of plants next to them, and out stepped a four-foot, two-inch biological in overalls. His skin was a shiny emerald hue and 30 percent of his height was devoted to his forehead. He had big black eyes and two antennae over them. He cradled a plant in his gloved hands. Whatever it was, it was breathing surprisingly loud for a plant.\n\nHe smiled with his very small mouth. \"So you must be this Mack Megaton I've been hearing so much about.\"\n\n\"If I must,\" I agreed. \"And let me guess. You must be Greenman.\"\n\nHe touched his face in that spot where he should've had a nose but didn't. I got the gesture anyway.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "user starts, u write ~50 sentences more. copy A. Lee Martinez's style. heads up: might have existing chars/lore", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd tried to find Julie and the kids, and I'd actually come closer than I'd expected to, which wasn't very close at all.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tony Ringo was gone now, and I had no way of finding Abner Greenman.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even if I did find him, I doubted I could convince him to give me the information he'd sucked out of Ringo's head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Information, in all likelihood, not worth much anyway because Ringo had been a small-time loser. Someone would have had to have been an idiot to trust him with any secrets.\n\nThere were the other two goons, Harelip and Dome Head. I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to them, and by now, they'd probably had their brains emptied, too.\n\nBut I wasn't giving up yet.\n\nThe cash in my pocket, though I hadn't bothered to count it yet, was thick enough to pay my power bill for a few weeks at the very least. Freed from the burden of daily employment, I could blow off my job and keep looking. I didn't think Greenman would appreciate me using his payment to continue wedging myself into the gears of whatever sordid goings-on were taking place, but maybe he would. Chutzpah, he'd said.\n\nContinuing toward this objective would almost certainly lead me back into confrontation with Greenman's goons. As long as Grey had me by the on/off switch, I was at a severe disadvantage. My own diagnostics had turned up zilch in my electronic brain. I had no choice. I needed an expert.\n\nMy shrink wasn't too happy to see me at her apartment door. I attributed this to the lateness of the hour. She adjusted her flannel robe.\n\n\"How did you get this address?\" Doc Mujahid asked.\n\n\"Phone book,\" I replied.\n\n\"How'd you get past the doorman?\"\n\n\"He was asleep. Might've woken him still, but that's some thick carpeting in your lobby, Doc. So are you going to invite me in?\"\n\n\"Do you know what time it is?\"\n\n\"I always know what time it is, Doc.\"\n\nA curious smile crossed her face. \"Was that a joke, Mack?\"\n\n\"Might've been.\" I shrugged. \"Even I'm not always sure.\"\n\nThe almost-joke was enough to get the doc's interest up, but she didn't step aside yet.\n\n\"I know it's late,\" I said. \"And I know you don't want patients bothering you outside of the office, but—\"\n\n\"Actually, Mack, this is the first time I've ever had a patient stop by my apartment.\"\n\nThat made sense. How many emergencies could pop up in a cybernetic psychologist's patient roster? Robots were usually polite enough to wait until office hours.\n\n\"Nice suit, Mack.\"\n\nShe showed me to her living room and excused herself to make some coffee.\n\nThe doc had a nice place. It wasn't as nice as Lucia's, but not too shabby. The living room was big enough for a sofa and a couple of bookshelves. There were some paintings and knickknacks, but nothing to draw my attention. It wasn't that big, but I assumed there were other rooms behind the various doors.\n\nDoc Mujahid came back with her coffee. \"Why are you here, Mack?\"\n\n\"I need your help. I need you to check out my electronic brain. There's something inside—\" I tapped my gut. \"—something I need removed.\"\n\nShe raised an eyebrow. \"A corruption?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And what makes you think this? Have your diagnostic functions detected anything?\"\n\n\"No. Nothing detected.\"\n\n\"Have you been acting peculiarly?\"\n\n\"Sort of.\"\n\n\"How so?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Find a natural way to mention that I can't explain, Doc. I just need you to take a look, find and remove it. I can explain then.)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can't explain, Doc. I just need you to take a look, find and remove it. I can explain then.\"\n\nThe doc quietly looked me over.\n\n\"I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important.\"\n\n\"Follow me, Mack.\"\n\nShe led me into another room occupied by a large black plastic desk and a solid row of blinking consoles. The furnishings took up most the room, and I occupied 66 percent of the rest. The doc had to sit at her desk just to fit in the room. She pushed a button. The machines hummed to life. A monitor crackled to life.\n\n\"What's this?\" I asked.\n\n\"It's a computer,\" she replied.\n\n\"In your apartment?\"\n\n\"One day, every apartment will have one. Perhaps more than one.\"\n\n\"Sure, Doc.\"\n\nIt sounded specious to me. Even in Tomorrow's Town, I couldn't think of anyone wanting to shell out the dough and sacrifice elbow room for their own computer, a device which by and large couldn't end up being anything more than an expensive calculator. For the doc, it might be worth it though.\n\nThe doc opened a drawer and thumbed through a selection of data tubes, picking out one labeled \"personality decryption utility\" and shoving it in a slot on the desk and locking it in with a twist. The computers seemed to like that because they started making a lot of beeping and whirring noises.\n\nShe handed me a jack. \"Plug yourself in, Mack. I don't suppose you can tell me what I'm looking for.\"\n\n\"Wish I could, Doc.\"\n\n\"A mystery then,\" she said. \"Well, let's see what we've got here.\"\n\nShe pressed a few buttons, and my digital consciousness streamed across her monitors. She didn't take her eyes off them for three solid minutes, leaning back in her chair and drumming her fingers on the desk. Sometimes, she'd tap a couple of keys and nod to herself.\n\n\"So, Mack, is there anything you'd like to talk about while we wait?\"\n\n\"No, Doc. I'm good.\"\n\n\"Nothing?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Nothing concerning Lucia Napier?\"\n\nI replayed the question a few times to make sure I'd heard her right.\n\n\"She called me earlier today,\" said Doc Mujahid, \"and mentioned you'd paid her a visit.\"\n\nI shouldn't have been surprised the doc and Lucia knew each other. They were both smart ladies. Probably got together every Saturday for the Weekly Super Genius Cotillion Brunch.\n\n\"She mentioned you were looking for someone.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" I replied vaguely. \"Personal matters.\"\n\n\"I see.\"\n\nI waited for her to press the subject, but she let it drop. It wasn't like she had to ask any questions. My electronic psyche lay bare before her on her monitors. She could always open a few memory files and know everything she wanted. The doc wasn't likely to do that. Went against her code of ethics, she'd once explained. The basic programming, the inner workings, those she studied by necessity. The memory matrix she considered off-limits as a matter of patient confidentiality.\n\n\"You made quite an impression on Lucia,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's just got a thing for robots,\" I said.\n\n\"Is that what you think, Mack?\"\n\n\"It's true, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Mmhmmm,\" she said, more to herself than me.\n\nI filtered that sound through my analyzers and came up with nothing worthwhile.\n\n\"And what did you think of her?\" she asked.\n\n\"I'm not here for analysis, Doc.\"\n\nShe pushed a few buttons as more data poured through her monitors.\n\n\"Not that kind of analysis anyway,\" I said. \"Can we drop the subject?\"\n\n\"If you insist.\"\n\n\"I do. I do insist.\"\n\nForty-five seconds passed before I found myself incapable of keeping my vocalizer deactivated. I usually excel at shutting up, but some compulsion seized me. I blamed it on all the time I was spending with biologicals.\n\n\"It's nothing. I'm a machine. Couldn't go anywhere.\"\n\n\"Don't you have biological friends?\" asked the doc.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And is there any reason you can't have another?\"\n\nI removed my bowler and fiddled with it to give my hands something to do. Another bad biological habit. \"No.\"\n\n\"Is there any particular reason that you can't be friends with Lucia Napier?\"\n\n\"She's a technophile,\" I replied. \"I'm pretty sure anyway.\"\n\n\"How is that an obstacle, Mack?\"\n\nIt was a good question, and I didn't have a good answer. This time I managed to stay quiet.\n\n\"Would you like my opinion, Mack?\"\n\n\"Not really, Doc.\"\n\n\"Too bad, because I'm going to give it to you anyway. I think Lucia could do you some good. She might be able to help you with your assimilation issues.\"\n\n\"I don't have assimilation issues.\"\n\n\"Yet you continue to isolate yourself through categorization. You insist on calling yourself a 'machine,' for instance.\"\n\n\"I am a machine.\"\n\n\"Yes, you are. But you are also an intelligent being.\"\n\n\"I'm just code, Doc.\" I pointed to the monitor. \"Ones and zeroes, that's all I am.\"\n\n\"Mack, if you were to extract a human brain and open it up, do you know what you would find?\"\n\n\"Goop.\"\n\n\"Exactly. The consciousness, the personality, the dreams, desires, and phobias, they're all there in that goop, but it's only a great big wad of fat in the end. The soul is not found in the flesh.\"\n\n\"What, Doc? Are you telling me I have a soul now?\"\n\n\"I don't even know if there is such a thing, Mack. But I do know that thought is thought and that nobody truly understands it.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" I said. \"Or maybe I'll snap one day and kill everybody.\"\n\n\"Happens every day, and not only to machines.\"\n\nThe doc's computer made a soft ping, and she started typing.\n\n\"Find something, Doc?\"\n\n\"Interesting. There appears to be some foreign code intermingled with your behavioral routines. Is this what you're looking for?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" I said, knowing full well it must've been. \"Can you purge it?\"\n\nShe leaned closer to the monitors and spent four minutes, six seconds typing rapidly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The computer would beep irritably an average of every eleven seconds.\n\n\"It's there all right, but I've never seen anything quite like it,\" she said. \"It's a worm, but it's divided and dispersed in various files. It shouldn't be able to have much of an effect.\"\n\n\"It's doing something, Doc. Trust me.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"I can't remove it. Not without risking damaging your core programming.\"\n\n\"I'm willing to take the chance,\" I said.\n\n\"I'm not.\" She pushed a few buttons. \"There's good news though. Your maintenance protocols seem to be removing it on their own. Fascinating development, really. I've never seen an electronic brain so adaptable.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm a walking miracle of superscience, Doc.\"\n\nShe either didn't catch the sarcasm or failed to acknowledge it. She rarely did.\n\n\"I think, given enough time, you'll purge the corruption on your own.\"\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"I can't say.\"\n\n\"Well, thanks, Doc.\" I put my hat back on, trying to not sound disappointed. \"Appreciate your time.\"\n\nShe kept her eyes fixed on the screen, engrossed in the new data. She was lost in a sea of binary code.\n\n\"I'll let myself out,\" I said.\n\nShe turned her head a few degrees so that she could still look at the screen, but kind of glance at me at the same time. \"Mack, I meant what I said about Lucia. I noticed some definite improvements in your socialization functions.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's not her,\" I said.\n\n\"Perhaps not. Would you care to tell me what you've been doing?\"\n\n\"Rather not, Doc, if you don't mind.\"\n\nShe didn't push because she was too distracted by the monitor readout. \"Fine, Mack. Whatever you're doing, I recommend you continue. I think you might be on the verge of a breakthrough.\" There was a beep, and she nodded very slowly. \"Fascinating.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Doc, great stuff, I'm sure. But I gotta go.\"\n\nThen I beat it before she got the bright idea to hook me up to her computers and take a more detailed look at my digital subconscious.\n\nI needed a recharge. The battery the city stuck me with was good for about twenty-six hours, depending on my levels of activity. When I didn't move more than I had to and basically let my electronic brain run on autopilot, I could stretch it to thirty-two. But getting mixed up with gangsters and brainy dames had burned the juice faster than normal. I still had three hours left, but I never liked to run with less than five in reserve.\n\nI could also use some time to recompile and defragment. I was a learning machine, but all the data I'd absorbed today was mostly a jumble of information until I shut myself down and allowed my electronic brain to sort and file it into manageable bits. I was hoping that after a good night's recharge, I'd figure out what to do next.\n\nI set aside my recharge cycle for another hour, long enough to pay Lucia Napier a visit. Proton Towers at the wee hours of the morning were a pair of sparkling columns, shining beacons circled by ever-present flying gun drones.\n\nDennis the doorman was gone, but there was another doorman who was nearly identical in every way: the same nose, same eyes, same ever-smiling mouth and chipper demeanor. Either his lack of distinctive features had flummoxed my facial distinguisher or he was Dennis's twin brother. Or a clone. That was unlikely though, since so far all viable clones were bald albinos with a tendency to speak backwards.\n\nDespite the lateness of the hour, I knew Near Dennis would let me in. I'd called ahead, and Lucia had assured me I was allowed to visit her anytime, day or night, scheduled or spontaneous. She'd also said I simply must come by tonight. When I'd asked if she'd rather wait until tomorrow, she'd said she was too excited to sleep anyway.\n\nI stepped off the pod into the penthouse. Humbolt greeted me, in a brand new chassis and a freshly pressed cream tuxedo.\n\n\"Yo, Mack,\" said the butler auto.\n\n\"Humbolt, good to see you functional again,\" I replied.\n\n\"Can't keep a good auto down. This way.\"\n\nHe led me into the living room and down the secret stairs to Lucia's lab.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd been busy. The teleportation disk was spread out in a jumble of parts.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She held something in a pair of tweezers under a magnifying glass.\n\n\"What did you do, Lucia?\" I asked.\n\n\"I took it apart. How else was I going to study it?\"\n\nI suppose she was right, but I'd hoped she hadn't destroyed the gizmo. Or if she had, I hoped she'd learned something worthwhile.\n\nWithout looking up, she motioned for me to come over. \"You must take a look at this. It's simply delicious.\"\n\nShe moved aside so I could use the magnifying glass, but I didn't need it. I zeroed in with my opticals and scanned the whatchacallit. \"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Isn't it amazing?\"\n\n\"Amazing,\" I agreed. \"What does it do?\"\n\n\"I have absolutely no idea. Not the slightest notion.\" She set it down and made a sweeping gesture at the mess. \"I barely understand any of this.\"\n\nShe laughed.\n\n\"Don't you get it, Mack? I've always understood everything. Everything!\"\n\nShe hunched back over the disassembled gizmo and began shifting pieces around.\n\n\"Can you put it back together?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, sure, no problem. I took notes.\"\n\nShe held up a handful of papers filled with scrawled handwriting.\n\n\"You say it's a matter transmitter?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Oh, but it's not. It's more of a matter shifter. This part right here, it's some sort of underspace conduit. And this part, it creates a stasis field.\"\n\n\"I thought you said you didn't understand it.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't be silly, Mack. Of course I understand it. Just not nearly as well as I understand everything else. The technology is advanced, prototypical. Except it's not a prototype. It's mass produced. Someone has a factory spitting these things out, and they're not sharing.\"\n\n\"Some people don't like to share,\" I said.\n\nShe frowned. \"Jerks. But I guess you're right. It would explain the self-destruct device I had to disable. And the two homing signal transmitters. And the remote recall mechanism.\"\n\n\"Two homing transmitters?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep this from falling into the wrong hands. Don't know why they bothered. The technology can't be reproduced. I'm not even sure what half of this stuff is made of. And it's encoded for a specific user. Anyone else tries to operate it, they'd end up having their molecules deep-fried.\"\n\n\"Can you change the code?\" I asked.\n\n\"Maybe, but it'd take a while to crack the encryption.\"\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"About six months.\"\n\n\"That's too long.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess I've got good news for you then, Mack, because I'm pretty sure I'd only have to change the coding if the intended user is a biological. A robot shouldn't be much of a problem.\"\n\n\"I can use it?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Maybe. There's still the matter of disparate mass inversion ratios. You might end up losing some parts along the way. Also, the device can only transport its cargo to a predesignated receiving unit, and I don't know where that is. Could be anywhere. Could be the moon for all I know. And if you do make it all the way in one piece, it's only a one-way trip. You'll be stuck there, wherever it is.\"\n\nMy difference engine sorted through all the what-ifs. Finally it took the coward's way out and said there were too many variables for any viable odds when it came to using the device. I didn't calculate a whole lot of other choices.\n\n\"Put it back together,\" I said.\n\n\"I figured you'd say something like that.\" She pushed away from the table and yawned. \"But it'll have to wait until morning, big guy.\" She slouched. \"I'm pooped.\"\n\n\"I could use a recharge,\" I agreed. \"I'll be back in the morning, then.\"\n\nLucia hopped over and took my hand. \"Oh, Mack, don't be silly. You should spend the night here.\"\n\n\"I'm staying with a friend. He might get worried.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(( Word usage target: 'lucia' must be used 3 times ))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So call him and let him know you won't be home tonight.\"\n\n\"I don't want to be a bother.\"\n\n\"Oh, no bother at all, dear boy.\"\n\nShe tugged at my arm, but I didn't budge.\n\n\"Oh, Mack, am I really that frightening?\"\n\nLucia stood before me. She was one hundred three pounds of squishy protoplasm that I could crush without batting an optical. If my opticals could bat. She scared the hell out of me.\n\nCouldn't compute why, but it was true.\n\n\"I'll be good.\" She reached up and loosened my tie. \"I promise.\"\n\nI couldn't think of a good reason not to stay, so I gave in, despite my better judgment. Lucia went to change for bed, and Humbolt showed me a place to recharge.\n\n\"Best outlet in the house,\" he assured me. \"Now, if ya'll excuse me, Mack, I gotta draw the lady's bath.\"\n\nI plugged in but didn't enter my full recharge cycle yet. I'd heard of biologicals having too much on their mind to go to sleep, but as a bot, I shouldn't have had that problem. Maybe I was more human than I cared to admit, and frankly, I didn't like it. Existence is simple when you're only a machine. There are no complications, no counterindicated compulsions. Just functionality. Drab, predictable functionality.\n\nDamn, how I missed that.\n\nI spent seven minutes staring out the penthouse window at the circling gundrones, the city of lights below, and the monolithic skyscrapers.\n\nI scanned Lucia's reflection in the glass as she came up behind me. I'd half-expected her to have changed into a sheer nightgown, but she was wearing blue pajamas.\n\n\"I thought you'd be off-line by now.\"\n\nShe stepped beside me, and we silently admired the view for seventy seconds.\n\n\"You're worried about them, aren't you?\" she asked. \"Your friends.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"They're okay, Mack, and you'll find them.\"\n\n\"No, they're not,\" I said. \"They're dead or gone. Or someplace where I'll never find them.\"\n\n\"Then why are you still looking?\" she asked.\n\nI tried to come up with a good answer, but the only one I came up with didn't make much sense.\n\n\"Because I have to.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mack, you poor baby.\"\n\nI didn't get why she said it, but she sure seemed to mean it. She lifted my hand and pressed her cheek against the back of it. It was barely a whisper on my tactile web, but it felt reassuring somehow.\n\n\"Get some rest. You'll feel more functional in the morning.\" She kissed the back of my hand. \"Good night, Mack.\"\n\nShe was halfway across the room when I had to activate my big, dumb vocalizer.\n\n\"Lucia, I appreciate all your help, but you know this can't go anywhere.\"\n\n\"What can't go anywhere?\"\n\n\"This thing. This thing between us.\"\n\n\"What thing?\" she asked, but I could see from her slight smile she knew exactly what I was talking about.\n\n\"It's nothing personal,\" I said. \"It's just logical.\"\n\n\"Mack, I think you've gotten the wrong impression,\" she said. \"I'm not ready to get into anything serious yet. I'm still having fun. You're a great guy, really, you are, but—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm not a guy.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 46 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah, yeah, robot. I got it, Mack. Like I'd forget.\" She snorted. \"Like you'd ever let me forget. Like you'd ever let anyone forget.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\" I didn't know why I was apologizing.\n\n\"Forget it, Mack. Forget the whole thing.\"\n\nSuddenly, I felt like a jerk. One-sixth of a second from confused to idiot. Couldn't analyze why, but I must've done something wrong. Or maybe Lucia was overreacting. Biologicals did that, victims of their own squishy brains and the random chemical reactions taking place therein.\n\n\"Lucia...\"\n\nShe exited the room, not quite storming out but coming pretty close.\n\n\"You got a real way with people,\" said Humbolt.\n\n\"Design flaw,\" I said. \"I just can't figure biologicals out.\"\n\n\"What's to figure? They ain't that complicated, pal. Take the boss there. She likes to play the carefree, freewheelin', spoiled little rich girl, but she's tired of it. Only she's been doin' it so long, she can't figure how to stop. All she really wants is a friend, Mack.\"\n\n\"She's got you,\" I said.\n\n\"Ah, I don't count. I'm programmed to like her. She could be a total bitch, and I'd still think she was the cat's pajamas. Most people are like that. They don't like each other for who they are, but who they're supposed to be. I guess the lady was hopin' you were different.\"\n\nHe was right. Lucia had done nothing but help me, and I'd returned the favor by pushing her away. No wonder I didn't have many friends.\n\n\"You'll excuse me, Humbolt.\" I went to Lucia's room. The door was closed, but when I went to knock, it slid open. Lucia glared up at me.\n\n\"What is it now, Mack?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\nFunny how two little words could have such an immediate and noticeable effect. Lucia smiled—not just her mouth but her whole face. Especially her eyes. She was beautiful. Oh, I'd already calculated she was statistically attractive, but there was something more there. I couldn't say what it was. Some things weren't subject to analytical breakdown. All I knew was that her smile meant a lot to me. For the first time, I wished I had a mouth so I could smile back at her.\n\nThen she hugged me. She was such a delicate little thing, fragile bones and pulpy organs. After seven seconds I gently placed one massive mitt on her back. The hug went on for another six seconds before she pulled away.\n\n\"Well, we better get some rest,\" she said. \"We've got a big day tomorrow. Good night, Mack.\"\n\n\"Good night, Lucia.\"\n\nThe door slid shut. I turned around and nearly ran into Humbolt.\n\n\"See, Mack? Told ja biologicals weren't that complicated.\"\n\n\"Who programmed you to be so insightful?\"\n\nHe adjusted and smoothed his collar. \"Hey, just 'cause I don't sport that fancy red paint job of yours, don't mean I'm a complete drone.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Literary Collaboration:\n- Sentences: thirty-three sentences\n- Match character context\n- Genre: scifi, noir, humor, robots", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You know the scene. Seen it in a dozen crime pictures. Some dumb mug finds himself sitting in a tiny room with a cop standing over him, reading him the riot act. That's pretty much what happened to me.\n\nExcept I wasn't sitting. I don't sit much. Most furniture isn't made for my weight, and my feet don't get sore. Also, it wasn't a tiny room. It was a big basement cell, thickly enshrouded in shadows excluding a few a bright spotlights. I assumed they blew the lighting budget on the three giant cannons pointed my way. And Sanchez, who was barely tall enough to stand over my knee, wasn't reading me the riot act. He was sitting at the table, puffing on a cigarette, letting the ash dangle. Otherwise, it was exactly the same.\n\nI stood in a small red circle painted on the floor. There was nothing keeping me from stepping out of it except the three heavy blast cannons trained around me. Unlike Sanchez, the cannons did tower over me. I was thick-alloyed, but the Think Tank had my specs, so it was a fair bet these weapons could pose a danger. My threat assessor suggested it'd be a good idea to play it safe and not step out of the circle.\n\nNow that I was here, I wondered if it might've been smarter to make a break for it while I had still been above ground. I might not have been able to bust out of the Tank. The security was tight, and the weaponry dangerous enough to give me reason to think twice, but at least I'd stood a chance. Now, I was stuck.\n\nSanchez hadn't said a word in the last six minutes. He was content to let me sweat. It was a tactic that had worked a thousand times before. But I don't sweat, and I could wait just as long as he could.\n\nI won the stare-off.\n\nHe leaned back in his chair. \"The Council approved this room's construction. As a precaution, you understand. Each of these cannons cost more than I make in twenty years. If they go off even once, the Council will have to approve a tax hike to pay the power bill. And from what I understand, they're each only good for about a dozen shots before the unit burns out and has to be replaced.\n\n\"I can't get the budget approval for a new automimeograph, but I guess somebody very important thought there might be a need for a special room like this. To hold guys like you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Guys like me?\" I asked. \"Or just me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Right now, you're the only guy like you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stabbed out his cigarette and lit up a new one. It was a miracle those little lungs of his still worked.\n\n\"I told the suits upstairs that it was a waste of time and money.\" Sanchez smiled mirthlessly. \"Tell me I was wrong, Mack.\"\n\nThe air sizzled as electricity crackled along the cannons' barrels.\n\nHe slid some crime scene photos across the stainless steel desk between us. They were a grisly series of images testifying to the last painful minutes of Gavin Bleaker's life. A catalogue of monstrous bruises and crusted blood and shattered bones. Despite the extensive damage, he was recognizable. They'd made sure to not touch the face. I'd never liked Gavin, but I hoped whoever did this to him had the decency to bash in the back of his skull first.\n\n\"Want to tell me something about this?\" asked Sanchez.\n\n\"What's to tell? I didn't do it. It's a frame-up.\"\n\n\"No shit.\"\n\nHe laughed, but he did not seem amused.\n\n\"I know it's a frame job, Mack. Hell, it's not even a very good one. Whoever did it used a red crowbar or something like that. You wouldn't need one, but they made sure it matched your paint job. And if you were going to kill someone, my gut tells me you'd make a lot more efficient job of it and be smart enough to ditch the body someplace the cops wouldn't stumble over. Our forensic scans of your suit and chassis showed traces of blood, but none of it matched the vic's type.\"\n\n\"So why am I still here?\"\n\nSanchez scowled. \"Right now, I'm your only friend. You might want to stop giving me lip. This is serious. Even if you didn't kill this guy, somebody went to some trouble to make it look like you could've. Not enough to hold up in court, but enough to keep you occupied. Want to tell me why?\"\n\n\"Wish I could.\"\n\n\"What about the blood? Want to tell me where you picked that up?\"\n\n\"Can't.\"\n\n\"This is serious. You realize that there are some very important people who've already put in requests for your permanent deactivation?\"\n\n\"I haven't done anything.\"\n\n\"Is that supposed to make a difference? You're not technically a citizen yet. Or have you forgotten?\"\n\n\"I don't forget anything, Sanchez. You know that.\"\n\n\"Well then you also remember that in the end you've got the legal rights of a television set.\"\n\nI didn't reply, only stood motionless in that unnatural robotic way.\n\n\"Had a talk with your shrink few minutes ago, Mack. Tells me you've picked up some kind of programming anomaly. Says you couldn't tell me anything even if you wanted to, and if I tried to access your memory matrix it could lead to total system failure.\" Sanchez's ears flattened. \"But you gotta give me something. Otherwise, the suits upstairs will send down the order to force a download, and there won't be a damn thing I'll be able to do to stop it.\"\n\nThere followed a seven second pause.\n\n\"You aren't making this easy for me, Mack.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\nSanchez gathered up the photos.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All right. We'll do this the only way we can. Doctor Mujahid thinks you'll be able to overcome this bug with some time. So time is what I'm going to give you. I'll try to keep the suits happy for as long as I can. Get comfortable, Mack. You're going to be here for a while.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: Required text (preserve exact wording): \"You've got a visitor, Megaton.\")", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stuffed the photos back into the file, got up and walked out of the room without looking back. It was just me and my automated watchdogs.\n\nI wanted to tell Sanchez what I knew, but as long as Grey's bug was working its magic, I was out of choices.\n\nGavin's murder could've meant any number of things. Maybe they'd gotten what they'd needed out of him. And maybe they'd gotten what they'd needed out of Julie and the kids, too. Could be they were all dead, and the cops hadn't found Jules and April and Holt's bodies yet. I calculated that as possible, but unlikely. No good reason for the abductors to ditch the corpses separately. No, Gavin was expendable. They'd kept him alive because there hadn't been a good reason to kill him yet. Maybe he'd pushed his luck, and they figured as long as they were going to get rid of him, they might as well hassle me in the process. Had to admire their efficiency.\n\nWhatever their reasons they'd succeeded in screwing me over. At the very least, I was delayed here for another few hours. At the very worst, I was headed for the scrap heap. In the meantime, there was nothing I could do but count the passing seconds.\n\nTwelve thousand and sixty of those seconds passed before the door opened again. My opticals picked out Sanchez in the doorway. \"You've got a visitor, Megaton.\"\n\nIt was Lucia. She was decked out in a lovely dress, her Sunday best. Her hair was put up and she had something pinned to it. A piece of cloth with a veil and plastic flowers. Might've been a hat, but my visualizer wasn't comfortable labeling it as such.\n\nSanchez glared at her. \"You've got five minutes, Ms. Napier.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Detective.\"\n\nHe grumbled something I couldn't detect and slammed the door behind her.\n\nHer heels clicked out twenty-six steps as she walked over to the table. She didn't sit.\n\n\"Hi'ya, handsome. Looks like you're in a tight spot.\"\n\n\"I've had better days.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to arrange this visitation. That unpleasant Detective Sanchez was dead set against it.\"\n\n\"He can be stubborn like that,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, I know he's only doing his job, but still, he was a bit rude and quite inflexible. Fortunately, I'm acquainted with a few influential people. A couple of phone calls, and voilà, here I am.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Voilà,\" I said. \"Didn't think you were the type to wear hats, Lucia.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A lady likes to exhibit a little class now and then.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She smiled. \"Helps to keep the gossip columnists off balance.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I figured she was up to something, and it wasn't hard to figure out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I played dumb though, because I didn't want to encourage her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This would only get her in trouble.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aren't you happy to see me?\" she asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sure. You look... nice.\"\n\n\"Nice?\" She puckered and blew a kiss. \"I look exquisite, Mack.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Like you're going to church. Or maybe a very casual funeral.\"\n\n\"No funerals today, Mack.\"\n\n\"Lucia, don't—\"\n\nShe put her gloved finger to her lips. \"Hush now. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself.\"\n\n\"This is different. This is serious.\"\n\n\"I know. That's why I'm doing it. You still want to find your friends, don't you?\"\n\n\"I'll handle it.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Oh, poor, poor, Mack. You really must learn to accept a helping hand. Even you can't handle everything all by yourself.\"\n\n\"So I've heard.\"\n\nI wasn't going to talk her out of this.\n\n\"I finished putting that little toy back together,\" she said. \"There were some parts left over, but I don't think they were all that important.\"\n\nI calculated a fifty-fifty chance we were being monitored right now. I could've put an end to this by merely hinting at an escape attempt, but that would only get Lucia in trouble. I might not be able to talk her out of this, but she couldn't make me take her help. A prison break was a hefty rap, even for the Princess of Empire. Sanchez would throw the book at her, and I doubted Lucia knew enough influential people to stop him once he got going. Like I'd said, he was stubborn like that.\n\nShe stepped closer. The cannons whirred.\n\n\"They warned me not to cross the circle,\" she said. \"Couldn't be responsible for what happened if you tried to use me as a hostage.\"\n\n\"Walk away, Lucia.\"\n\n\"Can't do it, Mack. It's been a long time since I met a stand-up guy. A girl would have to be an idiot to walk away from something like that.\" She unpinned her hat. \"Detective Sanchez was quite insistent that I not be allowed to bring anything in. Also, that I undergo a thorough security sweep. But the sweep couldn't detect this. The little gizmo is practically invisible to scanners.\"\n\nShe pulled the teleportation disk from her hat.\n\n\"Oh, damn it, Lucia.\"\n\nI expected the alarms to go off then, but it remained quiet. The door opened, and Sanchez stepped into the room.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 34 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He didn't have any backup, and his heater wasn't drawn. The only thing in his hand was a small remote.\n\n\"No going back now,\" she said with a smile. \"You can either use this or not. Either way I'm in deep now.\"\n\n\"Don't move, Mack. If I push this button, your internals will be fried beyond recovery. And the lady, if she's caught in the crossfire... you don't want to know what these guns do to organic materials.\"\n\nThe hum of the cannons doubled in volume.\n\n\"Your call, Mack.\" Lucia slid the device across the table.\n\nMy electronic brain analyzed the situation and offered me choices. None of them ended well.\n\nUsing the teleporter was a risky move. It all rested on how accurately I calculated Sanchez's willingness to push that button. He'd cut me a lot of slack recently, but there had to be a limit. There was no way I could push my button before he pushed his.\n\nHe must've read my electronic brain.\n\n\"I'll do it, Mack.\"\n\nI scanned his face, focusing on his black eyes. They never blinked. Far as I recalled, Alfredo Sanchez never bluffed.\n\n\"Do what you gotta do, Alf.\"\n\nI pressed the teleporter's button, and nothing stopped me. I detected Sanchez's parting sentiment as the room disappeared.\n\n\"Damn you.\"\n\nThe teleportation took two-sevenths of a second. A biological wouldn't have registered it. A blur of static and darkness passed. The trip destabilized my gyros, and my strength regulators were listing as unreliable. I was a clumsy heap of steel, and I was standing in a glass tube. Not for long though.\n\nI tumbled. The tube shattered, and I ended up flat on my face. Though I'm actually much more agile than my bulk suggests, my gyro issues were making it a challenge.\n\nNo design is perfect, and there was a flaw in my neck joint. My upward angle limit is forty-five degrees. Not usually a problem, since I'm a tall bot and I don't spend a lot of time sprawled on floors. From my current improbable position I scanned eight feet on the other side of a shimmering green forcefield.\n\nSomebody asked, \"What the hell are you?\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Expand on the story, maintaining character relationships, in the scifi, noir, humor, robots genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "My gyros stabilized enough to allow me to stand and get a good scan of the greeting party.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The man in front, the guy I assumed was the leader, had orange skin and angular black eyes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The goon to his left was a giant cricket, and his buddy on the right was unremarkably human to the point that he looked like a circus freak standing next to his buddies. It's all relative.\n\nThey wore blue jumpsuits with panels of blinking lights along their sleeves, belts, and chests. The orange guy didn't have a gun, but his companions both had shiny rifles that I couldn't identify. They were in hand and ready, but in a lowered position since there was a forcefield between us.\n\n\"Ravager unit report,\" said the orange man. \"How did you get in here?\"\n\nI didn't know what a ravager was, but since he was looking my way, I assumed he meant me. I ignored the question.\n\nThe field was my highest priority. If I couldn't get through it, this search-and-rescue mission was a bust. I ignored the goons and put my hands against the barrier. It popped and sizzled and would've melted flesh and blood. My alloy could handle the heat, but the field was solid enough to challenge my servos. I might be able to overload the system with a barrage of punches, but my own battery might drain before that happened. No way to know for sure without specific details of the system.\n\nThe orange guy pushed a button on his belt. \"Security, we've got a breach in reception chamber number four. Repeat, we have a breach.\" He tilted his head and nodded, listening to an unheard voice. \"Yes, I know it's not possible, but I'm looking at the intruder right now so maybe you'd like to come down here and tell it yourself.\" Another nod. \"No, it's fine. Subject is contained. Robot: modified ravager model. Shouldn't be a problem. Doesn't look very intelligent. I'm guessing it's a reconnaissance/sabotage unit. Sent to measure our defense and response times, most likely.\"\n\nI was vaguely insulted that he regarded me as little more than a giant smashing device, but then again, that was basically what I was. He might've wondered why I was wearing a suit if I was a run-of-the-mill auto, but he clearly wasn't giving it that much thought. First rule of the battlefield: assumptions kill. While I was being dismissed as a harmless nuisance, I figured I should take advantage of his underestimation.\n\nI bent down and began tearing apart the metal flooring. It was tough stuff, but not as tough as me. I peeled away the tiling to expose the wires and conduits below.\n\n\"Should we do something?\" asked the human.\n\n\"Why bother?\" said the orange man. \"Nothing vital under there.\"\n\nThe cricket spoke in a rapid series of clicks and chirps. I didn't get a word of it, but his buddies seemed to understand.\n\n\"You're welcome to shut down the field and deal with it yourself then,\" said orange man. \"Otherwise, we wait for a full security complement.\"\n\nI guess they hadn't underestimated me that much.\n\nI yanked up a thick conduit line and stripped it of its protective sheath.\n\nThe bug clicked.\n\nThe orange guy smiled. \"Let it damage a few systems. It won't accomplish anything. We'll know more when we neutralize the damn thing.\"\n\nThe bug chirped again, nervously this time. He must've seen this coming. Orange guy suddenly understood, and the obvious anxiety on his face made me think this plan had a decent shot of working. Only one way to find out.\n\nI put my hand against the forcefield again while holding the conduit in the other. Power surged across my chassis, down one arm and into the other. A lot of juice ran through me, and a biological would've been burned to ash before the field shorted out. My alloy doesn't burn and the circuit remained completed the full second necessary to short out the field. My radiation screens protected me from 99 percent of the current, but 1 percent snuck through and managed to damage a finger joint. I never used that pinkie anyway.\n\nThe field disappeared, and all of the orange guy's confidence disappeared with it. The two other goons unloaded their rifles at me. Both bolts registered as potentially hazardous in a sustained barrage, but in this situation they were rated negligible.\n\nWith the forcefield down, we were right on top of each other. It wasn't difficult to grab both of the rifle-wielding goons and toss them hard into the walls. Since my strength regulators weren't fully functional, it might've been too hard. The bug, in particular, left a glistening pink splatter of what I assumed was blood where he'd fallen. Orange guy had already dashed out of the door and out of my reach. The human was still moving, which meant he was probably conscious and capable of talking.\n\nSomebody must've sounded the alarm because all the bells and whistles started going off. Every security guard in the place was likely converging on this spot right now. I couldn't have much time.\n\nThe human sat up and fired a few more blasts at me. I'm a big target, but his hands were shaking so badly he only scored three out of five shots, and they didn't count for much.\n\nI snatched away his rifle and crushed it into a ball the way Superman always does it. It was an immensely satisfying show of power, illustrating how easily I could crush this poor slob and how I didn't need the gun to be dangerous. Judging by the look on the guy's face, he got the point.\n\nI would've grabbed him, but with my regulators on the blink, I might accidentally crush him. Instead, I stood over him, a towering juggernaut of intimidation. I even put my fists on my hips because it seemed the proper thing to do.\n\n\"I'm looking for some friends of mine.\"\n\nHe squealed. Just like that. No fuss. Fortunate, since I didn't have time to break bones and slap him around. According to my new friend, the Bleakers were being held in this very facility. He could've been lying, but I estimated he was too scared to be that clever. I didn't feel like dragging him along as insurance because he'd slow me down and when the heat came, and it would come soon, I doubted he'd survive.\n\n\"Here.\" He pointed to a room on a map. \"They're holding them there.\"\n\n\"Where are we now?\" I asked.\n\nHe pointed to another room. My brain already started plotting a course, as well as several alternates based on levels of resistance I might encounter.\n\nThe doors slid open and in charged five security guards bedecked in body armor and carrying more blaster rifles. They didn't bother telling me to freeze or anything. They just let me have it.\n\nMy friend was stupid enough to make a run for it. Directly in the line of fire. They blew several holes through him without hesitation, and the energy discharge began to heat up my chassis. Might've done something if I'd stood around long enough, but that wasn't my plan. I could've taken these goons out, but that wasn't the plan either. I turned and tore my way through the opposite wall. Took three seconds to punch through, and they kept pouring the heat on my back. It wasn't a problem yet, and if these were the biggest guns these guys had it wouldn't be.\n\nThe adjoining room was full of computers, and I tore my way through that one too. And the next. And the next. I was more interested in reaching my destination than recording the experience, but one room caught my attention. It was filled with biologicals, and many matched up with my alien theory. One, in particular, looked like a giant weed. There were no sentient plant mutations among Empire's citizenry.\n\nI wondered how many aliens were in this facility, if there were more facilities like this, and how long these extraterrestrial visitors had been carrying out their sinister doings. This wasn't a makeshift operation. This had been here awhile.\n\nMy plotted course was a direct path with random deviations to avoid larger rooms and keep security off-balance. Still, the walls were thick enough to slow me down and as I pushed my way through the complex, I found myself surrounded by an ever-increasing number of security personnel. I continued to ignore them, as taking the time to knock them aside would be counterproductive. Any guards I would've taken out would've been replaced. This wasn't a combat mission anyway. It was a search directive.\n\nThe endless barrage of blasters started to heat up my chassis. My inflammable suit proved fireproof all right. Instead of burning, it started melting. My paint job began to fleck, and I was glowing soft orange. My cooling system coped, and my internals were unaffected. These jokers couldn't stop me. Nothing could once I got going.\n\nI ripped my way through another wall into a large room. The kind I'd been avoiding but didn't this time because that's what they would've expected. The guards didn't follow. That meant either they'd wised up on the futility of their efforts, or dangerous countermeasures were on the way.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My single-minded nature meant it took a lot to surprise me once I set a directive.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 97 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In this new room though, I skipped a beat. It was a small moment, barely noticeable outside an atomic clock. The new room was for storage. And it was storing robots. Robots that looked exactly like me.\n\nThere weren't supposed to be any other robots like me.\n\nBut there they were, fourteen shiny gold Mack Megatons, inactively lined up along the walls. These must've been the ravagers the orange jumpsuit had mistaken me for. Something wasn't square, but I didn't have time for a mystery. Like I said, once I set a directive, I stick to it. I filed away any questions about this turn of events and kept on my way.\n\nThe robots activated. Every single one of them. One grabbed me by the right arm. Another seized me by the neck. The rest closed in. This was going to be trouble.\n\nWith my free arm I laid a right cross into an approaching robot's faceplate. His head snapped back and his neck joint popped. Fractures in his chassis meant I'd done some damage. These machines were tough, but not as thick-alloyed as me. It pushed my survival odds up from 62 percent to 64. In a situation like this, I'd take every percentage point I could get.\n\nI hammered the same robot again. His head still didn't fall off, though it tilted at an ugly angle. Must've screwed up a sensory connection, too, because he tackled one of his brothers by mistake.\n\nI gave the robot clinging to my arm a hard smack. One, two, three blows were enough to knock off his cranial unit. If he was anything like me though, his brain was in his gut and all I did was knock out his primary sensors. He didn't need to scan or hear me to know he still had a firm grip on me.\n\nDamn, I'd never realized how much a pain in the ass robots could be.\n\nThen they were all on top of me, a pile of pounding metal. I fell face first, and they hammered my back. My chassis was a match for the beating, but my servos weren't up to pushing these guys off of me. I was pinned. Nine seconds ticked by with only the sound of metal hitting metal echoing in the room. I didn't have time for this, so I did the only thing I could.\n\nI exceeded recommended operational limits, ordered my servos to 140 percent, and pushed. It was enough strength to throw off my opponents and get me to my feet again. It also drained sixteen minutes' worth of juice from my battery in two seconds and damaged my right shoulder actuator. I never used that shoulder anyway.\n\nI kept pushing. It was the only way to take out these second-rate imitations. It would strain my internals, and the excessive power drain was going to be trouble in the long run. I couldn't afford to let up.\n\nI unleashed a jackhammer jab into the nearest robot, right where I hoped his most important and vulnerable systems might be, if my own specs were any indication. It crushed his gut and must've done something because he staggered and fell over. Twitching and squirming, he struggled to right himself, but couldn't get the job done.\n\nMy arm diagnostic reported several microscopic stress fractures and advised returning to compliant function levels. I ignored it. It didn't like that and started pinging in my audios and flashing a warning across the bottom of my optical readout.\n\nAnother two robots tried immobilizing my arms. I threw my limbs together and smashed their craniums into each other hard enough to knock them loose. I finished the job and bashed in their heads with a hammer strike. Without sensors and more likely to hurt their fellows than me, they did the smart thing and shut down. Had to love cold machine logic.\n\nMy remaining opponents circled around again. They weren't intimidated. They were stupid, relentless autos. Relentless, I could respect. Stupid, I could envy. But my battle analyzer told me that this fight was a foregone conclusion. Because I was willing to do whatever it took to win, including risking my own continued functioning.\n\nMy analyzer estimated that my inevitable victory should take fifty-six seconds with a 13 percent overall functionality loss. I don't mean to brag, but I disassembled my opponents with seven whole seconds to spare. I could describe every punch and kick, every metal-crushing deployment of blunt force. But like I said, it was a foregone conclusion. Of course, I also had a list of minor internal damage. Nothing serious individually, but it added up to a 14 percent impairment.\n\nThe most annoying thing was that I was surrounded by mounds of spare parts and I didn't have time to collect them.\n\nI didn't take time to enjoy my win. I pushed on, slowed down by a blown right ankle actuator and a sticking shoulder that threw off my balance. I wasn't a particularly fast bot to begin with, but I was determined. And if I'd lost a leg, I would've hopped the rest of the way.\n\nThe alarms kept blaring, but there was no further resistance. I punched my way through five more walls and didn't see another biological. Only a few flying observation drones, and all of them kept a healthy distance. They'd evacuated this section. Might've moved Julie and the kids, too. But there was nothing to do but press on. I tore open one last door with my difference engine reporting zero expectations.\n\nJulie and April huddled together in the corner. Jules looked terrified. For seven minutes now, all she must've been hearing were shrieking alarms, panicked running, blaster fire, and smashing. Lots of smashing.\n\nBut April was smiling.\n\n\"See, Mom,\" she said. \"I told you he'd find us.\"\n\nA swarm of spherical security drones shot into the room. They circled all around, buzzing and humming dangerously. There were more in the hall. Too many to count.\n\nA voice came over the loudspeaker. Vaguely British, but not quite.\n\n\"Mr. Megaton, now that you have found what you were looking for, I assume you'll stop destroying our facility. However, if you need further persuasion, I would like to point out that each of these drones is armed with a self-destruct device. The charge isn't strong enough to inflict significant damage to you, but I assure you the woman and the child would not be so fortunate. I needn't point out the futility of attempting to shield them from the blast, but I guess I have done that just now, haven't I?\"\n\n\"And what do you offer me if I stand down?\" I asked.\n\n\"Nothing other than the continued existence of these two souls you've worked so hard to find. It's a very generous offer, Mr. Megaton, as there's no reason to concern myself with their existence save certain inconveniences of squeamish morality imposed upon me by my superiors.\"\n\nThere was something about the way he said \"morality\" that made it sound like a dirty word. He wasn't bluffing.\n\nApril was at my side. My chassis was still a little on the warm side, and she was smart enough not to touch me.\n\n\"So now that I found you, kid,\" I asked, \"what do I do now?\"\n\n\"That's easy, silly,\" she replied.\n\nHer eyes were clairvoyant purple again.\n\n\"You give up.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "StoryBot: Add twenty-six sentences to this segment. Style: A. Lee Martinez. Genre: scifi, noir, humor, robots. Note: Part of larger work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "DIRECTIVE: Incorporate \"Some of us are better at blending in than others.\" in response", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Surrender was counter to my core programming, and the very idea sent a nervous twitch through my servos. I did the only logical thing, because I was here to rescue the Bleakers, not get them blown to hell.\n\nThings might've been different had I been designed properly, but I was a weapon. Search-and-rescue was not my intent. I was made for blasting and stomping my way across a battlefield. The avoidance of casualties wasn't part of the plan. If I'd been true to my original programming, I'd have crushed Julie and April without even making a file of it. But if I'd been true to my original programming, I wouldn't have been here in the first place.\n\nMost of the security drones withdrew. Four remained hovering around Julie and April. They hummed at five extra decibels to remind me they were there. A complement of six security personnel surrounded us, mostly for show since it was the orbs that held me in check.\n\nA thin biological in a suit and silver cape stood in the doorway since there wasn't room for all of us. He spoke, and his voice was that vaguely British-but-not-quite that'd come out of that loudspeaker.\n\n\"Ah, Mister Megaton.\"\n\n\"You're human,\" I said.\n\n\"Am I?\"\n\nGrinning, his skin shifted from a pale pink to a bright purple. His blond hair became a shade of red that threatened to burn out my opticals. His eyes filled with black and when he blinked, his lids closed vertically.\n\n\"Some of us are better at blending in than others.\" He shifted back to his human pigmentation. \"They call me Warner. Not my original name, of course, but we've all taken terrestrial labels to ease our assimilation.\"\n\n\"So you are aliens then,\" I said.\n\n\"I guess that would be obvious, even to a simple machine such as yourself. Yes, circumstances have forced us to make this our home. We only do what we must to ensure our continued survival.\"\n\n\"Including kidnapping children.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, please, Megaton. We've hurt no one unless absolutely necessary.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Gavin Bleaker,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was it necessary to cave in his skull?\"\n\nJulie gasped.\n\nDamn. Julie shouldn't have found out that way. Couldn't take it back now. Sometimes even my vocalizer could get ahead of my sophisticated electronic brain. \"I'm sorry, Jules.\"\n\nShe stifled a sob. Gavin had been a louse, and she would be better off without him. It didn't change the fact that it was a hard thing to absorb, made worse by the situation. She didn't need any more troubles.\n\n\"Mr. Bleaker's disposal was deemed a necessity.\" Warner frowned, but he didn't look like he meant it. \"I can assure you, we do only what is best for our continued survival and assimilation.\"\n\nI didn't like the sound of that.\n\nWarner and his cronies escorted us down a series of hallways. Julie and April were kept in tow to convince me to behave myself.\n\n\"Mack, what's wrong with your leg?\" asked Julie.\n\n\"It's nothing, Jules.\"\n\nI'd blown my left ankle actuator stomping one of my more stubborn duplicates to scrap, and it had left me with a limp. Of course, there were plenty of other minor system failures going on, most of which weren't visible from the outside. All together, it was nothing function-threatening, but it was bad news for any possible escape attempts.\n\nWarner led us to a lab. It was a big operation, full of scurrying scientists. There were several robots at work, too. Six assistant drones, another of my auto duplicate models, and one robot with eight legs and a thin humanoid torso. His head was a basketball with four red opticals and a pair of long crackling antennae atop it.\n\nHolt was here, too.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh my God,\" Julie gasped tearfully.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What did you do to him?\"\n\nThe poor kid was suspended in a countergravity field. He didn't appear to be conscious, thankfully, because there were tubes running in and out of his body as various chemicals were being pumped into him and others drawn out.\n\n\"You sons of—\"\n\nI took a step toward Warner.\n\n\"Temper, temper, Mack.\"\n\nThe orbs around Julie and April squealed, and the security guards all leveled their rifles. Not at me, of course.\n\nI could've killed Warner easy. One punch could've taken his head right off. I didn't for two reasons. One was Julie and April. The other: Warner didn't deserve a quick kill. No, when his time came, I'd wipe that smug grin off his face one tooth at a time.\n\nI stood down, but I was getting awfully sick of it.\n\n\"Your concern is understandable, Mrs. Bleaker, but quite unwarranted. Any damage your son has sustained is not life threatening.\"\n\n\"Damage?\" She struggled with rage and fear, wiping the tears from her cheeks and snarling. \"What kind of people are you?\"\n\n\"You might call us visitors,\" he said. \"But that would be mistaken. We're not just popping in for a holiday. No, we're here to stay. Instead, we've taken to calling ourselves Pilgrims, and this is our new home. And your son is instrumental to our plans. So you see, as much as you care for him, you can understand how infinitely more valuable he is to us.\"\n\nThe spider robot clomped its way over to us. \"What is the meaning of this, Warner? You should not have brought them here.\"\n\n\"Oh, let them see, Doctor Zarg. They've the right, seeing as how this is the boy's family and Megaton has gone to such trouble to be here.\"\n\n\"You're getting careless.\"\n\n\"And you worry too much. Every step of our assimilation has gone exactly as planned.\"\n\nZarg emitted a harsh screech.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Enough, Warner. Your casual blathering is inadvisable. I will take this up with the Alpha Congress.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Warner's ever-present smirk faded, replaced by a cold stare. \"Do what you feel is right, Doctor. Soon none of this will matter.\"\n\nI didn't like the sound of that. Words like \"assimilation\" and \"necessary disposal\" put me on edge. I should've smashed this place to bits, torn it down bolt by bolt even if I was scrapped in the process. I would've, too. Except I wasn't sure how much it would accomplish. If I successfully brought the roof crashing down, there was no possibility Julie, April, and Holt would survive. They were only one family. Their welfare weighed against the well-being of the rest of humanity was a mathematical no-contest. Every logic dictate told me to eliminate the Bleakers from calculated variables. They didn't matter.\n\nI told my dictates to shut the hell up, and let me deal with this situation. They complied. They weren't happy about it, and the words INADVISABLE ACTION flashed across my optical readout.\n\n\"It'll be all right,\" I told Julie and April, but I couldn't counter my logic lattice enough to believe it. And I was a terrible liar.\n\nJulie was doing her best to stifle her sobs, but she nodded.\n\nApril was holding up better than her mom. Knowing the future, even if only little bits of it, must've been enough to comfort her. I kept hoping she'd smile at me, letting me know she'd seen how we got out of this. Honestly, she looked a little worried. I optimistically attributed that to a glitch in my expression analyzer.\n\nWarner gestured toward a countergrav plate beside Holt. \"Please step this way.\"\n\nIn zero gravity, all my impressive artificial muscle would be useless.\n\nWarner cleared his throat. One of his guards handed him a raygun. Warner seized April by the hair and put the gun to her head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She didn't cry, didn't utter a peep.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I pushed killing Warner up to third on my directives list. Right after getting myself free and getting the Bleakers out of here alive.\n\nI stepped onto the plate. A switch was thrown, and I bobbed up and down helplessly in the air. \"See, Zarg?\" said Warner. \"As docile and obedient as a labor drone. Nothing to concern ourselves over.\"\n\nDoctor Zarg said nothing. Having that perfect poker face all us bots do, I couldn't tell what he was thinking exactly. It was obvious he didn't care for Warner or his methods. Seemed strange that the robots here were the ones more concerned about morality than the biologicals. Life was full of paradoxes.\n\n\"Now, Mack, if you would be so kind as to allow us access to your memory matrix so—\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Oh, come now. Don't make me get ugly again.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nHe put the raygun back to April's brow. \"Do you think I won't do it?\"\n\n\"Oh, I know you'll do it,\" I said. \"But I also know that once you have access to my memory matrix, you'll get access to the rest of my brain. When you can start monkeying around with my inner workings, there won't be any reason to keep her alive anyway.\"\n\nWarner smiled, but it was not an amused smile. Nor even the self-satisfied grin he usually wore. It was cold and hard and sharp.\n\n\"Could you live with that, Mack?\" he asked. \"With the image of this lovely young girl lying dead at her mother's feet?\"\n\nI allowed myself a full second to run the simulation. Julie cradling her dead child in her arms while her second hovered, untouchable, out of reach.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then I shut the simulation away in a file, locked the file, and vowed never to open it again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My personality assessor pegged Warner as ruthless, amoral, and most probably a mild sociopath. He could've blown a hole in April's pretty little head and not lost a minute's sleep over it. But in the end, her death didn't mean anything to him either. She was a bargaining chip. So I took that chip away.\n\n\"Go ahead.\"\n\nHis eyes widened, then narrowed. His grin dropped away, and I realized he was going to do it. I'd miscalculated, and now April was going to burn for it.\n\n\"Enough of this.\" Doctor Zarg clomped over on his eight spider legs and pulled the gun from Warner's hand. \"Your excesses are becoming intolerable, Warner. Megaton is incapacitated. This child's death will accomplish nothing worthwhile.\n\n\"I apologize, Mrs. Bleaker, that you should have to see this,\" said Zarg. \"Soon, we shall be finished, and you, your daughter, and your son, unharmed, shall all be released.\"\n\nFunny thing. I believed him.\n\nExcept, not really. Because Zarg was one bot, and the hint of snarl across Warner's face told me he wasn't on board with Zarg's intentions.\n\nIt made me wonder exactly what kind of alien invasion we were dealing with here. Sure, Warner was obviously an asshole, but Zarg didn't seem so bad, if you ignored the abduction of innocent families. There was Abner Greenman. That little alien had wanted to find Tony Ringo as bad as I did. There was obviously more going on here, and I didn't have enough information to make an educated hypothesis.\n\nZarg ordered security to take away Julie and April and to see that they were treated well. The bot apparently outranked Warner, but you could see being told what to do didn't sit right with him.\n\nHe plastered his smarmy grin back on. \"Yes, Doctor Zarg. As you wish.\"\n\nThey marched out of the lab.\n\n\"I wouldn't trust him, Doctor,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He will do as he's told.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: Your task: Include 'escape' 2 time(s) in your response)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Guys like that always do what they're told. Until they don't feel like doing what they're told.\"\n\n\"No one asked for your opinion, Mister Megaton.\"\n\n\"Well, this kid didn't ask to be a science experiment, and that doesn't seem to bother you.\"\n\nZarg scanned Holt for two seconds. \"What we do, must be done for the greater good. It is necessity dictated by logic.\"\n\n\"Sure, Doctor. You keep telling yourself that.\"\n\nZarg ordered the rest of the lab to ignore me, and after three minutes of fruitless chatter, I got the hint. I passed time running various escape scenarios and without exception, they all ended before they began. No matter how the variables shifted, my difference engine put the odds of escape at 0 percent in the current situation. So I dialed down my power consumption to minimum and waited for my chance.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "SEGMENT CONTINUATION:\nLength: ninety-four sentences\nStyle: A. Lee Martinez\nGenre: scifi, noir, humor, robots\nContext: Part of ongoing narrative", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If I did get out of here, any information I could record could be valuable. Of course, logic told me I wasn't getting out of here, but I had a yen to make myself useful anyway. While the aliens scurried about the lab, I scanned every detail. I didn't understand much, but if I got the chance to play it back for the right audience they might make sense of it.\n\nZarg was in charge. That much was obvious. It bumped my pride index up a point to see a fellow robot in a position of authority. Shame he was one of the bad guys.\n\nThough I'm not a science unit, I figured out some things. They were pumping something into Holt, using him like some kind of filter. His vital signs were displayed on a monitor as a series of spinning alien hieroglyphs and rhythmic beats. Since I couldn't read it or decipher the rhythms, I couldn't determine the information being displayed. I tried correlating any changes on the display with Holt's reactions, but he floated there beside me, unconscious and silent as a corpse.\n\nThree hours and seven minutes passed. Finally, Zarg ordered the operation to shut down.\n\n\"Doctor, the human is stable,\" observed one of the braver techs, a five foot slug. \"Perhaps we should continue.\"\n\n\"The extraction process is running according to schedule,\" said Zarg. \"There is no need to subject the human to unnecessary physiological stress or compromise the integrity of the compound.\"\n\n\"But the Congress...\"\n\nZarg whirled on the slug. \"The Congress will understand that everything is proceeding according to my agenda.\" His voice remained even, but he rose up on his legs to stare down the tech.\n\n\"Yes, Doctor.\"\n\nMaybe I had Zarg filed wrong. Of everyone working here, he seemed the only one concerned with Holt's continued health. He was still a bad robot, but maybe he wasn't all bad.\n\nWarner entered the lab. I got a very ominous blip in my intuition simulator.\n\n\"What are you doing, Doctor?\" asked Warner.\n\n\"These constant interruptions are reducing the efficiency of this operation,\" said Zarg.\n\nWarner smiled. He glanced around the lab. \"You seem to be reducing your efficiency very well by yourself, Doctor. Why are you shutting down?\"\n\n\"A precaution,\" said Zarg. \"Nothing more.\"\n\n\"Is there any reason to assume the boy is in any danger?\"\n\n\"I've charted a point-zero-eight variation in his blood pressure which I cannot account for. Furthermore, he is producing more adrenalin than anticipated, which could reduce the stability of the mutagen.\"\n\n\"Point zero eight.\" Warner clicked his tongue against his teeth. \"Troubling, indeed.\"\n\n\"Do not think that because I often fail to acknowledge your sarcasm, Warner, that I do not notice it.\" Zarg continued flipping switches and bushing buttons. \"I am well aware of your impatience. It is a failing of most biological entities. However, as long as this project is under my supervision—\"\n\n\"Funny you should mention that, Doctor.\" Warner removed a folded paper from inside his jacket.\n\n\"You have had me removed.\"\n\n\"Surely, a being of your formidable intellectual powers can't be surprised by this turn of events.\"\n\n\"No. I calculated a 28 percent chance of this occurrence. Although I assumed it would be another twelve hours before the Congress would reach its decision.\" Zarg lowered his arms. \"Such haste from the governing body is a statistical anomaly.\"\n\n\"I am not the only one who is impatient,\" said Warner. \"The Congress has ruled your original projections as flawed. They don't take into account either the large number of our fellows who don't see the wisdom of our actions or this surprisingly bothersome robot.\"\n\nIt wasn't particularly gratifying to my ego drive to be classified as bothersome.\n\n\"I trust I won't have to call security to remove you,\" said Warner.\n\n\"Correct. I will abide by the Congress's decree.\"\n\n\"I knew you would, Doctor. Always so cooperative and logical.\"\n\nZarg cast one last scan at Holt before quietly leaving the lab.\n\nWarner grinned. \"So you see, Mack. There are robots that do know their place.\"\n\nI said nothing. No snappy patter came to mind. Only the image of Warner with one of my hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing until his eyes shot out of his head and his tongue turned purple.\n\nHe stared me right in the opticals, unaware of the simulation running behind my faceplate. Or maybe he was and simply didn't care.\n\n\"Get back to work. The Congress wants the final batch of mutagen by tomorrow.\" He clapped his hands. The techs began reactivating the equipment. It hummed to life, pumping luminous red, blue, and green chemicals back into Holt's body.\n\nA moan, barely audible, fell from the kid's mouth.\n\nWarner turned to leave, but not before offering me a casual salute. \"Be seeing you, Mack.\"\n\nAs a soulless machine, I refused to take things personally, which just meant when I did finally get hold of him I wouldn't get sloppy. He'd let something slip though. Except it wasn't a slip because he didn't consider me a threat.\n\nThey were producing a mutagen, and they were using Holt to do it. Like so many deductions, it led to more questions. Empire's water supply was already crawling with mutagenic agents. A few hundred gallons more would have a negligible effect. But ruthless alien invaders didn't go to this much effort for a negligible effect.\n\nThe work went on, and everyone continued to ignore me. I wasted another three hours of juice hanging helplessly, and I wondered if anyone would offer me a recharge when the time came. If my battery went dead, these guys wouldn't need a countergrav field to contain me. Not when a broom closet would work as well.\n\nThe lighting in the lab went a bright shade of red and a low buzz issued from the loudspeakers.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked the slug, who apparently was in charge now.\n\n\"The system is reporting an airborne contaminant leaking from lab seven\" replied another tech. \"Possibly a false reading, but security is recommending we clear the area until it can be confirmed.\"\n\n\"We've never had a false reading before. Evacuate the lab.\"\n\nThey pushed a button, and Holt descended into a hole in the floor. The techs filed out in an orderly fashion. I thought this might be my chance, except I was still suspended in countergrav and they left my evil twin to keep an optical on me.\n\nDoctor Zarg stepped into the room, along with two long-limbed drones. The security auto moved to intercept him.\n\n\"Stand down,\" ordered Zarg.\n\nI'd have known the doctor was up to no good, but my evil twin obviously didn't have my instincts. He obediently clomped over to his post.\n\n\"Hello, Doctor,\" I said. \"Just passing through?\"\n\nZarg pulled a lever, and I dropped to the floor. I landed on my feet, but my blown ankle wasn't up to the strain and I fell.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I estimate a six minute window of opportunity, Megaton. Can you walk?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I rose to my feet. \"Not very fast, but I can walk.\"\n\nZarg's drones approached me and leveled their weapons at me. I didn't make a move to stop them. If Zarg wanted me scrapped, he wouldn't have had to go to this much trouble. The drones proceeded to spray my chassis with the same golden paint job of my ravager twins. Zarg spoke as they did this.\n\n\"We do not have time for you to question me, Megaton. Is this understood?\"\n\nI had no good reason to trust Zarg. But it was either that or the broom closet, and with my lightning fast electronic brain, it wasn't much of a choice at all.\n\n\"Sure, Doctor.\"\n\nZarg produced a finger unit identical to my damaged one. \"Replace your broken digit.\"\n\nI released the old finger from its socket and plugged in the new one. I tried wiggling it, but nothing happened. \"It doesn't work.\"\n\n\"Correct. It does not.\"\n\nThe drones finished up my paint job in sixteen seconds. With the golden finish, I was a dead ringer for all the other ravager security autos, although a badly damaged unit.\n\n\"Follow me,\" said Zarg.\n\nI limped behind him. We passed right by my evil twin, who did nothing to stop us. I rapped him once on his metal head. \"See you around, buddy.\"\n\nThis entire section of the complex must've been evacuated because there was nobody around. The drones walked off in one direction, and Zarg led me in another.\n\n\"You change sides quick, Doctor,\" I said.\n\n\"Incorrect. I remain on the logical side. If the project is rushed, the results will increase the incidental casualty ratio beyond acceptable levels.\"\n\n\"So now too many people are going to die?\"\n\n\"Correct. Furthermore, it is my hypothesis, based on previous behavioral histories of terrestrial societies indicating a regrettable but predictable tendency toward counterproductive paranoid aggression, that the initial deaths would result in a cycle of self-destruction and entropy that would ultimately compromise the integrity of the Empire City project itself.\"\n\n\"You're all heart, Doctor.\"\n\n\"It is evident that your motivational directives have been corrupted by extended exposure to biological ideals. However, you are still bound by basic logic, I must assume. You also have the highest probability of achieving escape from this complex, providing you do exactly as I instruct you.\"\n\n\"Sorry, but I'm not very good at doing exactly what I'm told.\"\n\nI stopped, and Zarg glanced over his shoulder.\n\n\"I have anticipated your lack of cooperation. I assume it stems from concern for the biological units designated The Bleaker Family.\"\n\n\"On the nose, Doctor.\"\n\n\"I cannot secure the escape of the boy, but I have arranged for the mother and the girl to escape with you. It is the best I can do.\"\n\n\"I'm not leaving without Holt.\"\n\nZarg hesitated two seconds. \"Perhaps the corruption to your dictates is worse than I estimated. If you do not follow my plan of action then you will not escape. Neither will two of the biological units you wish to reclaim. Even more illogical, 500 thousand more biologicals will also die. You can see the loss/gain ratio inherent in this equation. You have five seconds to comply.\"\n\nI ran through some quick calculations. It took three seconds to reach my decision, and in the end, I still didn't like it.\n\n\"If anything happens to that kid...\"\n\n\"Your threat has been recorded.\"\n\nZarg led me down the halls. They weren't completely deserted. There were patrolling robots, but none of them even seemed to register our passing. The doctor explained the plan to me along the way. It was pretty simple. At least, on my end. I was a seriously damaged ravager being sent out for repairs. Zarg would load me into a transport. There'd also be a crate of spare parts already loaded. Instead of spare parts, it would contain Julie and April. Six minutes after the transport started its trip, I was supposed to make my escape.\n\nThis was the part Zarg wasn't clear on. He explained that there were too many variables, and that I would have to improvise. If it went well, I was supposed to meet with Abner Greenman's people. When I told Zarg I didn't know how to contact them, he said I wouldn't have to. They'd find me.\n\nThere was no resistance. Zarg's plan was going exactly as predicted.\n\n\"How long have you been planning this?\" I asked.\n\n\"This turn of events was not entirely unexpected. I have anticipated this probability for some time. I have had these contingency actions prepared should the need arise.\"\n\n\"You act fast.\"\n\n\"Logic dictates hesitation as unacceptable in this case.\"\n\nIn the hangar, he showed me to a spot in a heavy hover transport occupied by eight other inactive ravagers. I still didn't know where all these duplicates had come from, but it was a lucky break they were there.\n\n\"Which crate?\" I asked.\n\nHe pointed to the one directly across from me. It was big enough for Julie and April, but it was a tight fit.\n\n\"You should come with us,\" I said. \"You know more about this operation than I do.\"\n\n\"Illogical, Megaton. Discovery of my absence would reduce the probability of successful escape.\"\n\n\"But they'll figure this out.\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"What will they do to you?\"\n\n\"I am not part of the equation.\"\n\nHe exited the transport, and the loading ramp raised itself shut. There were no windows in the craft, but it vibrated with the unmistakable hum of the rockets firing up. I started the countdown to six minutes.\n\nI stood perfectly still in the transport, keeping my opticals trained on the crate. I didn't twitch a servo. The ravagers around me appeared off-line, but I wasn't taking any chances. At my reduced efficiency I wasn't sure I could take these guys. When the six minute mark struck, I made my move.\n\nNone of the autos cared. I wanted to rip open the crate and check on Julie and April, but the box might be the safest place for them. Instead, I pulled the lever to lower the ramp. Empire City sped past below. Too fast. Too far. But it was Empire, all right. I was glad to know Lucia's moon theory hadn't been correct. My difference engine said the impact would loosen a few bolts if I jumped, but I'd continue to function. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Julie and April.\n\nI'd just have to convince the pilot to set down for landing.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even in my damaged state, I could be fairly persuasive.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I tore open the door without bothering to knock or check if it was locked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 95 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two pilot drones manned the controls.\n\nI scanned the control panel. Not only did I not know how to operate it, it wasn't even designed to be operated by a nondrone. The pilots had four arms apiece, and they pushed buttons with efficient grace. Since the pilot units were plugged directly into the transport's sensor array, there wasn't a window. Hell, I couldn't even fit into the cockpit.\n\n\"Say, fellas, I know this is counter to your current directives, but would you mind plotting a course change? I'd really appreciate it.\"\n\nThe drone on the left swiveled its nub of a head to scan me. \"Ravager unit, return to inactive mode.\"\n\nSo much for the friendly approach.\n\nI could smash these drones and hope there was a failsafe that would bring the transport in for an emergency landing. It was as likely to reroute itself back to a preset hangar, and if I crushed something vital, it could all come crashing down. Zarg had to have known this would happen. He'd deliberately put Julie and April in danger because I wouldn't have gone without them.\n\nThen it hit my logic lattice. He'd known they'd be in danger, and the doctor did not seem the kind of bot to put people in needless danger. I went over to the crate and pried off the top. No Julie. No April. Only spare parts. Zarg had played me for a chump, a dumb palooka without a single electron of common sense.\n\nAnd to think, I'd almost liked him.\n\nAn explosion shook the transport. It lurched to one side. No doubt, the rocket pods had been sabotaged to rid me of pesky options. The pilot drones kept us afloat with cool automated reliability. Until the second and third pods blew.\n\nThe transport tilted at a steep forward angle, and my ankle actuator and gyros weren't able to keep me upright. I tumbled, crashing into the cockpit, trashing the pilot drones. Not that it mattered. With only one working pod, this transport was going down fast. With no windows, I had to estimate the time to impact.\n\nI was off by two whole seconds.\n\nI didn't record the details of the crash. My array went haywire, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it until it was all over. I'd suffered more internal damage. My left arm hydraulics were compromised and the limb was limp and unresponsive. My right optical was cracked and full of static. My gyros were listing as inconsistent, so my balance was worthless. On the bright side, I'd apparently been thrown clear so I wasn't buried under ten tons of scrap metal.\n\nI was lying on my side. I didn't try to move yet. It would've only ended badly. The transport was a smoldering wreck. It'd lost some bits, but it was mostly in one piece, albeit a twisted, misshapen piece.\n\nI'd landed in Venom Park, the worst industrial accident site in Empire, which was saying something. It was a cubic half mile of toxic sludge, corrosive soil, and greenish brown, poisonous air. All the buildings had corroded and dissolved into the sinking mud. Nothing biological could survive nine seconds in this environment, not even the hardiest drat or most stubborn mutant squatter, making it about the only place someone could crash a heavy transport in Empire without killing a lot of innocent civilians. It was the vacant bull's eye in the endless sprawl of the city, and Doctor Zarg had set me down here with the mathematical precision and flawless aim of a supercomputer playing darts. Whatever my beef with Zarg, he was one smart bot, and he'd gone out of his way to avoid casualties. If Julie and April had been aboard that transport, and if, by some fluke they'd survived the crash, they would've died breathing the air.\n\nI was soaked in acid and mud, but my chassis integrity remained intact so I didn't have to worry about additional damage to my internals except if I dared move, which I must because I was beginning to sink into the quagmire. Venom Park soil was slow to suck you in, but once it had you it didn't let go. There were supposed to be a lot of bodies tossed into this plot of land, but no one knew for sure. A biological dissolved, bones and all, after about three days. I'd sink to the bottom and run out of juice, but the results would be the same. Permanent deactivation.\n\nMy logic lattice advised me to remain still, await recovery and repair. I wasn't that optimistic. The only recovery team I could expect would be Pilgrims. If they hadn't figured out I'd escaped yet, they would be on their way now to salvage what they could and cover up the rest. I couldn't have more than four minutes at the outside. I expected only two. I'd wasted twenty seconds waiting for any two of my five gyros to start agreeing, but that wasn't happening. The only way to recalibrate my equilibrium was through trial and error.\n\nIt wasn't pretty and took twelve seconds longer than it should've, but I got to my knees. I could scan the ground. I knew which way was down. But without the gyros, I'd have to calculate weight distribution with each move I made. It would've slowed me down if I were in tip-top shape and knew exactly what to expect from myself. But with all my impaired internals, I would have to adapt to so many new variables that it was statistically impossible for me to get the hang of it this side of seven hours.\n\nSometimes, statistics were wrong.\n\nI stood. The gyros spun, but I ignored their input. I swayed two inches to the left, overcorrected, and tilted three to the right. I tried counterbalancing with my left arm, but it made a harsh grinding as shoulder gears were stripped, rendering the appendage now entirely useless. An attempt to straighten up was a complete failure. All the damage and the sucking mud proved too much of a challenge. I collapsed on my back. My neck joint was so damaged that it couldn't move. All I could scan was the sky. I was supposed to be an invincible mechanical death machine, and I didn't accept my position with grace or logic. Sixteen seconds of ineffective twitching confirmed that getting up was now out of the question.\n\nA black rotorvan passed low overhead and set down just out of sight. I detected the sound of approaching rotors. The salvage team had arrived. Their squishy footsteps drew closer. Something clamped onto my leg and dragged me through the mud. I was lifted out of the muck and tossed into the van, where I lay like a pile of scrap.\n\nGrey sat beside me, clad in a bright red biohazard suit. His static-filled voice issued through the plastic bubble around his head. \"Hi'ya, Mack.\"\n\nDoctor Zarg had said I wouldn't have to find Greenman. Greenman would find me.\n\n\"Hello.\" I nodded, and nothing in my neck joint popped. A pleasant surprise.\n\nKnuckles climbed into the van and beeped once.\n\n\"You look like hell,\" said Grey.\n\n\"Oh, this? It's nothing. My warranty should cover it.\"\n\nSmiling, Grey shut the doors as the van lifted off.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "I'll share a piece from a longer story, then you take over with 52 sentences in A. Lee Martinez's voice, keeping within the scifi, noir, humor, robots genre. Some context may come from earlier chapters.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I went off-line regularly for short periods as part of my recharge and defragmentation cycle. But even while recharging, my array was aware of my surroundings. It ignored most everything and didn't bother recording, but it was still aware. If someone wanted to sneak up and access my systems, they wouldn't get far before I'd switch back on.\n\nDeactivation was different. It was a complete, system-wide shutdown. If off-line status was comparable to biological sleep, then deactivation was a coma. No data. No time. Nothing. Some claimed biologicals thought during comas, and maybe they did. But not me. I was oblivious to the world. On the bright side, it made the repair session go by in a snap.\n\nReactivating from a full system shutdown took a little longer than normal. I prioritized my face and vocal recognition programs and waited for the mechanical support to kick on-line.\n\nThe first thing I noticed was Lucia's face. There was a smear of grease on her chin, and her eyes were heavy. Her hair was all over the place.\n\n\"Morning, handsome.\"\n\nI was about to ask how long I'd been down when my internal clock informed me that it was now twenty-five minutes past one in the morning. I'd been down for five hours and change.\n\n\"Is he fixed?\" asked a guy in a gray suit who stood guard.\n\nLucia wiped her brow. \"He's fixed.\"\n\n\"Running diagnostics,\" I replied coldly. My speech synthesizer was not high on my list of concerns.\n\n\"Why, Mack, baby,\" said Lucia with a smile. \"I thought you agreed to trust me.\" She pushed a button and the table slowly tilted forward until I was on my feet. \"Any time you're ready.\"\n\nMy gyros listed as all in agreement, and my ankle actuator was A-OK. I took a step and didn't fall over. I tested my shoulder joint with a few waves of my arm, and I stomped each foot three times to see if my frame was solid. Nothing rattled loose. My right knee rotator didn't stick at thirty-five degrees anymore. It'd been doing that since I'd been built.\n\n\"I did some preventative maintenance while I was in there,\" she said. \"Hope you don't mind.\"\n\nThe gold paint job was gone, and I was now lusterless silver. The drones approached and began to slap on a coat of automated citizen red. Once they'd finished, I looked as shiny and new as an auto fresh off the assembly line.\n\n\"I had Greenman's boys go by my place and pick up a few things. There's a new suit over there.\"\n\nShe pointed to a custom-tailored job hanging in the corner. This one was black with vertical stripes. I slipped it on. Lucia had to help me with the tie.\n\nShe grabbed a thin book off a table and handed it to me.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"Manual,\" she said. \"For the suit. Scan it. Shouldn't take you more than a minute or two.\"\n\nIt took exactly seventy seconds to absorb the fifty-five-page manual. The suit was more than a sharp outfit. Lucia called it an illusion suit, and it had color-changing fabric and a hologram emitter network imbedded in the fabric. After I'd read up on its functions, she suggested I try them out. While repairing me, she'd installed a radio remote to make using the gadgets as basic as walking.\n\nI ran the suit through a variety of color shifts and preset patterns, including an unlikely design of purple with lime flowers. The hologram was able to project either isolated images around my mechanical bits or body-wide images.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The preprogrammed disguise was that of a green-skinned mutant. Nothing too fancy, but enough to justify my proportions and afford me some anonymity.\n\n\"Using the body-wide will drain the battery fast,\" she said. \"So use it sparingly. Figured you might need some form of disguise if you're going to be on the lam. Can't disguise your proportions, and if you move too fast you'll overtax the system and the images might blur.\"\n\nShe handed me a thick metal belt. \"I call it a booster belt. Seven miniature rocket pods built into it. They can't run for extended flight, but they'll get you airborne. About seventy feet or so per boost. Also, it's got the next generation gravity clamp. Turn that on, and nothing will move you. I guarantee it.\"\n\nI slipped on the belt, and gave the boosters a quick test fire. I hopped five feet in the air and landed with a clang. Next up was the gravity clamp. Switching it on, I was immediately anchored to the floor. The pull was so strong as to crack the linoleum. Those bugaboos of mass and momentum wouldn't be much of a problem as long as this baby was running.\n\n\"What do you think?\" she asked.\n\n\"I'll take it. You whipped these up pretty fast, Lucia. I'm impressed.\"\n\n\"Actually, I had the prototypes ready for awhile. I'm a genius, Mack, but I'm not that good. They aren't practical except for seven-foot, ultra-strong robots. The hologram irritates flesh with continued exposure. Makes it itchy as hell. The gravity clamp would crush most biologicals. And the boosters—\" she shrugged \"—they tend to cause second degree burns around the waist and crotch area, which places severe limits on the potential market.\"\n\nShe handed me a hat. I cupped it loosely in my hand so as to not crush the felt. Though Lucia assured me it wasn't felt, and it'd pop back into shape even if completely flattened.\n\n\"This is a fedora,\" I said.\n\n\"That's right. I see your hat distinguishing programs are running just fine.\"\n\n\"I had a bowler.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mack, don't you go to the picture shows?\" she said. \"Oh, wait, I bet you don't.\"\n\n\"I've seen a movie or two,\" I said. \"Or six and a half.\"\n\n\"Half, huh?\"\n\n\"I walked out of The Day the Earth Stood Still once it became clear Gort wasn't the hero.\"\n\nShe straightened my tie. \"Well, Mack, if you've seen any crime pictures, you'd know all detectives wear fedoras.\"\n\n\"Sherlock Holmes doesn't.\"\n\n\"Yes, honey, but Sherlock Holmes is an intellectual. And you're a tough guy.\" She caressed my chin. \"Trust me, it'll look good on you.\"\n\nI positioned it atop my head. Lucia had me bend down and tilted it at a four degree angle. \"Now this is one handsome detective. Bogart would eat his heart out.\"\n\n\"I couldn't agree more, Miss Napier,\" said Abner Greenman as he entered with Knuckles clomping behind him. \"Now that Mack's repairs are complete, we must see you returned to your cell before anyone notices.\"\n\n\"She's not going back,\" I said.\n\n\"I had to call in a lot of favors, Mack,\" said Greenman, \"and even I don't have the pull to abscond with such a famous felon.\"\n\nLucia patted me on the arm. \"It's okay. He's right. Anyway, if I don't go back, I'll be a fugitive. I'd rather take my chances on my day in court.\"\n\n\"What chances?\" I asked. \"They know you did it. They have a recording of the crime and an eyewitness.\"\n\n\"I'll just explain the situation. You know how persuasive I can be.\"\n\n\"You might not be able to talk your way out of this.\"\n\n\"Mack, don't be silly. I've talked my way out of much worse things. Anyway, did you forget that I'm very rich? With the right lawyers, the legal system can be very forgiving.\"\n\nShe had a point there. Even in Tomorrow's Town, hot justice could be tempered by cold cash. It would take a lot of dough to get Lucia out of trouble, but she had plenty to throw around. I didn't like it, but it was the smartest thing.\n\nLucia wrapped her arms around me, and I hugged her back.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She gave my faceplate a caress, and her hand moved slowly across my opticals.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I scanned something written on her palm: an address. She winked, slipping a keydisk in my pocket when no one was looking.\n\n\"Remember, big guy. I might not always be available to patch you up. So try and take better care of yourself in the future.\"\n\n\"No promises.\"\n\nTwo of Greenman's biological goons escorted Lucia away. I wondered if this would be the last time I scanned her. Even if she got out of her bind, I was still in mine.\n\n\"Now that you're functioning better,\" said Greenman, \"I was hoping you'd reconsider my offer.\"\n\n\"Still not interested,\" I replied. \"I don't like you, Greenman. I don't buy your story. And I don't trust you.\"\n\n\"You don't have to trust me, Mack, but I am the only one who can help you.\"\n\n\"I'll help myself.\"\n\n\"And a fine job you've been doing so far,\" he said. \"You are now a wanted bot. The police are looking for you. A rebel faction of Pilgrims wouldn't mind seeing you scrapped either. Right now, I think it's safe to say I'm your only friend of influence in this city.\"\n\n\"And let me guess, if I agree to work for you, you'll make it all go away?\"\n\nHe adjusted the green rose in his lapel. \"I can, you know. There isn't much going on in this town where I don't have some sway. You'd be surprised at the number of very important people who owe me favors.\"\n\n\"No, I wouldn't, but I'm not going to be one of them.\"\n\nI moved toward Greenman, and as expected, Knuckles tried to get in my way. He beeped once as a warning. I put one hand on his shoulder, kicked his leg from under him, and pushed him down. He fell hard. Hard enough to knock a few bolts loose. One came to a rolling stop at my feet. Lucia had done a bang-up repair job. I'd have to remember to tip her a sawbuck if I ever saw her again.\n\nKnuckles squealed like a cranky baby as he struggled to right himself. Mark Threes were hard to knock over, but once they were down, they couldn't exactly spring to their feet.\n\nI said, \"Tell him to stay down. Or I'll disassemble him one screw at a time.\"\n\nGreenman gave the order, and Knuckles went still.\n\n\"Here's the deal, Abner,\" I said. \"I don't care about you. I don't care about good aliens or bad aliens. I don't even care about 500 thousand possibly doomed citizens. All I care about is one family unit comprising three biologicals. But it seems like what I care about and what you care about meet somewhere in the middle in this scenario. So you'll tell me what you know, and we'll work this out so that we both get what we want. But I don't work for you.\" I folded my arms. \"And if that's going to be a problem, then we'll just go our separate ways.\"\n\nGreenman's fish eyes went cold as the humor drained from his smooth, featureless face. I inferred Greenman was used to having all the power, being the big green cheese. He didn't like having terms dictated to him. Naturally, he tried his ace.\n\n\"What of the Bleakers? Would you walk away, leaving them to their fate?\" A smug grin crossed his face. He thought he had me. All he had was one annoyed bot who'd already figured that Greenman was a man who thrived on edges, on holding all the cards. Removing the Bleakers from the scenario left him with a very bad hand.\n\n\"Watch me.\" I moved toward the door.\n\nIf Greenman didn't play by my rules, then he wasn't much use to me. I hadn't abandoned Julie and the kids. I'd find them again, even against all statistical likelihood. Any statistic had its fair share of anomalies if you rolled the dice often enough, and I'd roll them as long as it took.\n\n\"I can tell you where you come from,\" said Greenman.\n\nI opened the door halfway and put one foot across the threshold. \"I can tell you I don't care.\"\n\nIt was a bit of a lie. I was a little curious, and Greenman knew it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But I was a good bluffer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Okay, Mack. You win.\" He shook his head slowly. \"I must be losing my touch.\"\n\n\"Not your fault,\" I said. \"I'm defective and unpredictable, if you'll recall.\"\n\n\"That you are, Mack.\" He chuckled. \"That you are.\"\n\nHe led me to an upstairs office. It was decked out 93 percent swankier than the rest of the warehouse, more of a lounge with a desk than anything else. A model of downtown Empire sat in the center of the room. It wasn't the real version, but an idealized alternate cityscape. All the buildings were there, but none of the grime, none of the blackened air or overwhelming racket. None of the citizens or rotorcars or clogged freeways and shrieking zip rails. None of the life.\n\nGreenman nodded toward the miniature tombstone of a city. \"It was supposed to be a utopia, our gift to the earthlings for allowing us to share their world.\"\n\nI compared the idealized Empire to my memory files of the real thing in all its malfunctioning, broken-down, oily smelling (presumably) glory. Something had gone horribly wrong somewhere on the road to Shangri-la.\n\n\"It was too much, too soon,\" said Greenman. \"The earthlings weren't ready for it. You can't introduce basic theories of science into a primitive world. They're barely ready for the transistor. Flux power coils and antimatter generators are a bit out of their depth. Oh, they understand it. They're remarkably intelligent and adaptable. They can build it. They can even improve upon it. But they simply aren't ready for it. More interested in creating the world they've seen on the covers of their revered pulp magazines.\n\n\"I suppose it doesn't help anything that we've held back certain key technologies. Things too dangerous to be allowed into their hands. This is the end result. How does that earth saying go? The best laid plans of mice and men? Well, I can assure you, Mack, that it is a universal constant, even on worlds without men or mice.\"\n\nHe studied the model silently.\n\n\"Of course, our motives were not entirely altruistic. We needed a gathering place where we could begin the assimilation process.\"\n\nGreenman opened a cigar box on his desk and removed a stogie. \"Don't mind if I smoke, do you?\"\n\n\"Don't have a sense of smell,\" I replied.\n\nI was surprised he could fit the cigar in his tiny mouth, but he managed. His antennae twitched as he lit the end with his mental powers and took a long puff.\n\n\"Tobacco. Did you know this stuff is illegal on my world? Of course, most things are. Cognac isn't. That's only because it doesn't exist there.\" Smiling, he poured himself a drink. He put the glass to his noseless face and sniffed, proving that even if I couldn't scan them, there were nostrils hidden somewhere. \"I love this planet.\"\n\n\"That's great, Abner. Now are you through philosophizing, or should I come back later?\"\n\n\"Not much for small talk, are you?\"\n\n\"Robot.\"\n\n\"Yes. Single-minded creatures, the lot of you. I wonder if you'd be so brusque if Miss Napier were here with us.\"\n\n\"We're not here to talk about me,\" I said.\n\n\"Is that your subtle way of changing the subject?\"\n\n\"No, it's my brusque way of changing the subject. Get on with it, Abner.\"\n\nHe sipped his cognac and nodded. \"The first step in assimilation was to create a city of tomorrow. The next, to get the earthlings to accept peoples of our varied and colorful physiology.\"\n\nIt clicked then. I wasn't always quick on the uptake, but once I processed the data, it didn't take long.\n\n\"You're mutating the humans on purpose,\" I said.\n\n\"Can you think of a better tactic to slip in unnoticed, right under their noses? No conflicts. No negotiations. A simple invisible immigration with none the wiser. Except it takes time to safely instill mutations extreme enough for all Pilgrims to immigrate. Time to build mutation into a socially acceptable condition.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Social conditioning was the one thing that had gone right with the Pilgrims' agenda.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There'd been pockets of uproar a few years ago when mutants first appeared. But the assimilation campaign had worked, and while not everyone liked mutants, there hadn't been any riots or unrest. There were still protests occasionally for norm rights, but they were few and far between. No one, including most norms, thought it was an issue anymore. While the rest of America had its integration debates, Empire had already moved past that. Black, white, or green. Bald, scaly, or furry. Two arms or six. It was pretty much a non-issue in this town.\n\nDidn't mean it couldn't become one. Greenman was a little too inhuman to slip in unnoticed amongst the rest of the mutants. Humans had a bad history of changing their minds about things. Civilization tended to run around in circles, which explained why mankind hadn't accomplished much in its few thousand years of history. Sure, you had a Renaissance here and an Industrial Revolution there, but these were the exceptions, not the rule.\n\n\"Some of us started getting impatient,\" said Greenman. \"Isn't surprising. We were supposed to be colonizing a new world. Most of us are explorers in spirit. Can you blame them for not wanting to hide anymore?\n\n\"Unfortunately, the extreme mutations required for many of our less humanoid races would take several generations to initiate safely. The humans will need to become accustomed to the mutagens or else the sudden increase in levels would result in abnormal, unchecked defects. Rampant spontaneous genetic disorders would result in the deaths of tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands.\"\n\n\"Perhaps five hundred thousand,\" I said.\n\n\"That is Doctor Zarg's current projection, yes. If he's correct.\"\n\n\"And what if he's wrong?\"\n\n\"Zarg is never wrong, Mack.\"\n\nEmpire wasn't much different than any other city full of biologicals. It was a study in controlled chaos kept in check by the rule of civilization. Robots have logic to drive us. It was numbers. Doctor Zarg had been willing to kill a certain percentage of Empire, but as soon as that number was crossed, he could switch sides. From a biological perspective it was impulsive, but it was actually very predictable. Just an equation.\n\nMost biologicals didn't have that. They had feelings, chemical reactions in their squishy brains that didn't always feed them the best directives. If Empire was suddenly beset with thousands of deaths and thousands more bizarre mutations, it might go to hell. It might not. I was a bot, and I usually played the odds.\n\n\"The vast majority of us find these risks unacceptable,\" said Greenman. \"We aren't a ruthless people.\"\n\n\"I'm not worried about the majority, Abner.\"\n\n\"They would never hurt the boy.\"\n\n\"His name's Holt.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"There's something you're not telling me, Abner.\"\n\n\"It's the mutagens,\" he said. \"We haven't the necessary resources to create certain exotic catalysts. Holt does. He carries the basic agent in his blood. It's a fluke, a one-in-a-ten-million mutation. Without him, there is no super mutagen. That's why they took him.\"\n\n\"And you knew about this? You knew he was in danger, and you left him out in the open?\"\n\n\"I know, I know,\" said Greenman. \"We should've known better. We've collected cell samples of thousands of mutants. Strictly for study, to ensure the process was going smoothly. No one outside of a handful of researchers had access to them, but the files weren't hidden or restricted.\"\n\n\"You left it out for anyone to find?\"\n\n\"We keep facts from the earthlings, but not each other. We didn't think it would be necessary. Everything was going as planned. There were dissenters, of course, but we just assumed...\"\n\nHe sighed.\n\n\"It was naive. I admit it. But it wasn't as if the files were easily available. They were in a lab, in a filing cabinet.\" He shook his head. \"Stupid, but we aren't duplicitous by nature. We're colonists, not spies.\"\n\n\"Did the cabinet have a lock on it at least?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes, but not a very good one, I'm afraid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "OOC, Required text (preserve exact wording): \"We're fortunate that it takes time to produce and refine the super mutagen they require. Zarg estimates twelve more hours before they have enough for the wide scale effect they desire.\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While Ringo was briefly in my employment, he was approached by the Dissenters. They paid him handsomely to retrieve the information. Ringo, being both admirably ambitious and ridiculously moronic, decided they weren't paying him enough. He decided it would be better for him to take Holt and hold him for ransom. He figured to play both sides against each other and reap a tidy profit.\n\n\"His plan was to actually pay the Bleakers for the loan of their son. He approached the father and made a deal.\"\n\n\"Gavin rented his own son out.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, that was the idea. In Mr. Bleaker's defense, he was told the family could accompany the boy, keep an eye on him. Of course, when Ringo went for the pickup, Mrs. Bleaker didn't exactly leap at the idea. Then there came an unexpected complication.\"\n\n\"Me.\"\n\nSo that was what I'd walked into three days ago.\n\n\"But Tony wasn't so easily discouraged. He waited until he knew you weren't around and made his second attempt. This time, there was no negotiation. Just abduction. He also scrounged up some drones to scrap you as a loose end. The idiot didn't realize who you were. Otherwise, he'd have known better than to waste his time.\"\n\n\"Why kidnap the whole family? Why not just take Holt by himself?\"\n\n\"Because Ringo was an idiot,\" said Greenman. \"Because he thought, in his own strange way, that once the family saw he meant the boy no harm, they'd leap at the money he offered.\"\n\n\"That's idiotic.\"\n\n\"Well, Ringo was an idiot. I've seen his thoughts, and let me tell you, they are the disorganized ramblings of a moron. Why else would he slip away from protective custody to visit a jazz club when half my operatives were looking for him?\"\n\n\"You said he was going to play both sides, but the Dissenters have Holt. Weren't you willing to pay?\"\n\n\"We would've. But Ringo was way past his depth in this case. The Dissenters found him. They convinced him that their offer was better than dying, and he handed over Holt and the family.\"\n\n\"I still don't scan why they'd take the whole family.\"\n\n\"The Dissenters were worried about what they might've seen or heard. They didn't want to kill the Bleakers. Even they are not entirely ruthless.\"\n\nI didn't feel like arguing, but Gavin was dead and I was pretty sure his death had been solely to trip me up. The Pilgrims couldn't exactly claim the moral high ground. Slipping mutagens in the water, kidnapping innocent families, smashing in a guy's head just to throw a wrench in my gears. It was a slippery slope, all right, and biologicals didn't have the sense to stop once they got sliding.\n\n\"So how much super mutagen do they have?\" I asked. \"How much damage can they cause? How do we stop them, and how do we get the Bleakers back?\"\n\n\"That's a lot of questions, Mack.\"\n\n\"Can't establish mission directives until you assess the situation.\"\n\nGreenman pulled a data tube from his pocket. \"Here's a copy of the tube Zarg smuggled out in your finger.\" He inserted it into a reader terminal built into the wall. A chemical formula spilled across the screen, though it wasn't written in any earth language.\n\n\"We're fortunate that it takes time to produce and refine the super mutagen they require. Zarg estimates twelve more hours before they have enough for the wide scale effect they desire.\"\n\nI started the countdown. Less than one day before people started dying by the thousands.\n\n\"Can you make a counteragent?\" I asked, knowing that if the answer had been \"Yes\" this conversation wouldn't have been taking place.\n\n\"We've already started working on it, but without Holt to supply the final ingredient, it's ineffective.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you make the counteragent while you had access to Holt?\" I asked. \"As a precaution.\"\n\n\"We didn't want to subject the child to unnecessary trauma,\" he said.\n\nSomething about the tone of his voice and the frown on his lips activated my simulated intuition. \"What's the real reason, Abner?\"\n\nHe smiled slightly. Of course, he always smiled slightly with that tiny mouth of his. \"You're brighter than you give yourself credit for,\" he said.\n\n\"Not really,\" I replied. \"Some things are just obvious.\"\n\n\"Any counteragent produced with Holt's biology would also instill mutagenic resistance in humanity. It would slow an already time-consuming process even further, perhaps delaying our timetable by as much as seven or eight generations.\"\n\nI figured as much. Despite the benevolent immigration party line Greenman kept trying to download me, I knew biologicals, both human and alien, were almost always motivated by self-interest. Couldn't help it. It was their nature.\n\n\"We find Holt before they make any more,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You make your counteragent, and you tell them that if they use theirs, you use yours. It's a standoff, but it gets the job done.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Precisely what I was thinking, Mack.\"\n\nHe pushed a button and a map of Empire City flashed on the screen. It zoomed in on a few blocks in the bustling hub of Empire. The area was known as the Nucleus, and the whole of Empire had grown out from there like a spot of spreading rust. Several important financial and scientific corporations ran their home offices here. And there were ten different factories as well. The Nucleus was one place where the elite and the poor rubbed shoulders, even if it was only in the moments wealthy businessmen disembarked from their vehicles to dash into their secured office buildings. Everything important in the city took place in the Nucleus, or at least passed through it. Except the government, but, really, what useful things did the government ever accomplish anyway?\n\n\"This is the complex you escaped from. According to the information Zarg has supplied it's the only facility the Dissenters control with the necessary equipment to refine the mutagens.\"\n\nIt was a smart place to hide. Heavy traffic at all hours of the day and night, throngs of citizens clogging the sidewalks, and dozens of buildings crammed right on top of each other. Any Dissenter activity would be lost in the shuffle.\n\n\"That's where Holt is,\" I said.\n\n\"Yes, and Zarg predicts it will be unlikely they'll move him. Even if they suspect we know of this facility, moving him would delay their project. We have no way of knowing for certain if Zarg is correct in this assumption.\"\n\n\"One way to find out. You've got muscle, Abner. The sooner we move, the sooner it's over.\"\n\n\"We can't just stage a frontal assault. The risks are too great.\"\n\n\"I thought you said they wouldn't hurt the Bleakers.\"\n\n\"They wouldn't. The risk I'm speaking of is to my fellow Pilgrims. We can't start a full-blown war. It would draw too much attention. The possibility of exposure, it's too great. So far this conflict has remained underground, and that's where all of us would like it to stay.\"\n\n\"That's not an option anymore, Abner. If you respect life, if you don't want to see any needless deaths, then we end this now. If it ruins your conspiracy, it's a chance you'll have to take.\"\n\n\"I wish it were as simple as that, Mack. Do you think I hadn't already considered this? But, understand, even if I thought it was the best course of action, I answer to certain higher authorities.\"\n\n\"I don't.\"\n\nGreenman scowled. He had teeth. Tiny, pointed white ones.\n\n\"You've put me in a very uncomfortable position, Mack. I like you, but I can't allow you to leave with the information if I can't trust you.\"\n\nHis eyes flashed as he lifted me into the air. He tried to play it cool, but his antennae were twitching like crazy. Seven hundred sixteen pounds of robot required plenty of telekinetic muscle.\n\nTime to see if Lucia's inventiveness could push him over the edge. I activated the gravity clamp, and the sudden anchoring pull proved too much for Greenman. He didn't see it coming.\n\nI slammed into the floor, and his head jerked back violently enough to fall out of his chair.\n\nHow long he'd stay down, I couldn't estimate. I had to take care of this fast. I deactivated the clamp because moving when it was on slowed me down. I tossed aside the desk and snatched the little twerp up by his throat. Some green blood was dripping from his teeny tiny nostrils.\n\nHis eyes flashed golden. I couldn't activate my clamp fast enough and was hit with a blast of telekinetic force. It sent me crashing across the office. I kept my grip, and Greenman came along for the ride. I fell into the model of Empire, crushing it. Another burst of invisible force threw me into the ceiling and held me there.\n\nKnuckles charged in, not even waiting for the door to slide all the way open and punching a hole through it. Three of Greenman's biological goons came in behind him. None of them took a shot with their rayguns. Not with me clutching their boss around his neck.\n\nI could've reactivated my clamp, but Greenman might've gotten caught between me and the floor. Despite his impressive psychic talents, he was a fragile little biological. I didn't want to kill him. Not that I cared about him, but it wouldn't serve much purpose in the long run.\n\nGreenman's eyes flared as he increased the pressure.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ceiling cracked, threatening to give way. Then who knows how far he might push me? But as he increased his pressure, so did I. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.\n\n\"You'll break before I do,\" I said. \"Don't make me kill you.\"\n\n\"You'll never get out of here functional,\" he said through clenched teeth.\n\n\"I wouldn't want to bet your life on it, Abner.\"\n\nGreenman's antennae twitched, and we lowered gently to the floor. The goons kept their rayguns at the ready, but I wasn't too worried. There was only one guy who worried me: Grey. And I posited that if he were in the building, he'd already be here. Greenman had gotten sloppy. He'd assumed he could handle me all by himself, and he could've if not for Lucia's technological magic. I'd have to remember to thank her.\n\nKnuckles paused, weighing his contrary directives. One: to kick my ass. Two: to keep his boss from getting his neck broken.\n\n\"Order them to stand down,\" I said.\n\n\"You idiot,\" gasped Greenman. \"Do you think you'll get away with this? Do you know who I am? I run this town!\"\n\n\"Well, I guess that means as long as I have you by the throat, I'm king of the world.\" I gave him a little shake to remind him of his current position. Sure, he could throw me around the room all he wanted, but it wouldn't stop me from crushing him with a simple twitch of my servos.\n\n\"Stand down,\" said Greenman. \"Stand down, damn it.\"\n\nKnuckles complied, though he remained at combat-ready status. The goons I ignored. If they'd had anything to tip the ratios in this equation, they'd have already used it.\n\n\"You know what I've just realized, Abner,\" I said. \"You're full of shit. You talk about morality, about how you care about the people of earth, but it's just talk. And yeah, you won't poison the town because that way you get to pretend you're the good guy. But you're not. I'm wondering if maybe Ringo didn't find those files by accident. Maybe you didn't have him in mind, but you knew someone would get hold of them. All you had to do was wait around for someone to find them and get the bright idea. You look away, do a piss-poor job of trying to stop it, and when people die, you act like it's a tragedy. All of the benefits, none of the guilt.\"\n\n\"You don't know anything, you defective piece of—\"\n\nI squeezed his windpipe shut. Not certain of his bone density, I risked crushing his vertebrae, but I didn't give a crap.\n\nI went over to the reader terminal, ejected the data tube, and tucked it safely into my inside jacket pocket.\n\n\"I'm walking out of here,\" I said. \"And if I scan anyone within ten feet of my personal space...\" I gave Greenman another little shake, to remind him of his position and because I was starting to like the way his eyes crossed after I did. \"Are we clear on this?\"\n\nI loosened my fingers enough that he could squeak his reply. \"You think you can just walk away.\" He sucked in a shallow breath. \"You think I let anyone get away with this?\"\n\n\"Shut up, Abner.\"\n\nAbner Greenman may have been a big cog in Empire behind the scenes, but right now he was a squishy biological at my mercy. He shut up. His fish eyes narrowed, and I knew there would be consequences. But I'd deal with them later.\n\n\"I scanned a rotorcar when I came in. Teal Hornet. Who has the keydisk to that baby?\"\n\nThe disk was scrounged up and given to me. Knuckles stayed at an exact eleven-foot perimeter, but he wouldn't make a move until Greenman gave the go command. And Greenman could barely breathe, much less bark orders. No one tried to stop me, and they were smart not to.\n\nThe Hornet started up without a sputter.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Its three rotors roared to life.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They didn't need to make that much noise, but you had to expect that from a hot rod.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I retracted the landing gear, switched off the altitude regulator, and the Hornet crashed to the floor.\n\nGreenman winced. \"God damn it, you stupid outmode. Do you know how much this car is worth?\"\n\n\"A few hundred less than it was three seconds ago,\" I replied.\n\nI tapped a pedal, and the car rose. I struggled to work the gearshift while keeping Greenman clutched tight.\n\n\"Not easy to fly a rotorcar with one hand,\" he gasped with a smug smile.\n\nI don't know why he was smiling. It only gave me more motivation to kill him.\n\n\"I'll manage, Abner.\" I turned to one of the closer goons. \"Open the gate.\"\n\nThese guys couldn't change their underwear without first checking with Greenman, and the goon looked to his boss for confirmation. Before he could get it, a low vibration rattled the entire warehouse. It grew into a rumble violent enough to topple over carefully stacked boxes.\n\nGreenman said, \"They wouldn't dare.\" I could tell from the way his eyes went wide like two forty-fives that they would and they had.\n\nLights filled the warehouse windows, bright as day, glaring and harsh. The ambient temperature began to climb at a rate of 3.6 degrees a second. The biologicals began to sweat and cough. Steam rose from their moist flesh. An oil line burst in Knuckles' neck, spraying a fountain of black liquid. Greenman's smooth emerald skin darkened and blistered.\n\n\"Get us out.\" He wheezed. \"Get us out now.\"\n\nI should've tossed him out of the Hornet, left him to burn with his boys, but I didn't. It wasn't for any other reason than it simply didn't occur to me at that moment. He was too busy dying to be much of a threat, allowing me to drop him in the passenger bucket seat and push the accelerator button down as hard as I could without breaking it. The Hornet zipped forward. No time to worry about the bay door now, so I rammed through it. The rotorcar was a well-made model and with the speed behind it, we smashed our way through without a problem. It did lose a headlight though, and the windshield shattered.\n\nI nearly plowed into a parked heavy transport. A harsh twist of the wheel and a stomp on the altitude pedal got us clear. The Hornet kissed the top of the transport, and I almost lost control. The starboard side rocked downward to a forty-three-degree angle and Greenman bounced around the interior.\n\nFlying in Empire is no easy task. Outside of the designated civilian flying zones, the sky was an obstacle course of sweepers, automated transports, and skyscrapers. A trio of sweepers entered my flight path, and I wasn't quick enough to avoid one. I ripped through the blimp. The Hornet took a few more nicks to its finish from the gasbag frame, but was otherwise unharmed. The drone went down. The emergency countergrav system kept it from dropping from the sky.\n\nI kept accelerating as I scanned the rearview.\n\nThere was a mothership floating over the warehouse.\n\nIt was a flying saucer the size of a city block covered in hundreds of blinking lights, making it brighter than the night sky. The real source of the brightness were three twenty-foot antennae, each crackling with power, each pointed downward at the warehouse, leaving trails of white hot electricity as they rapidly rotated around the saucer's rim.\n\nA goddamn mothership.\n\nIt looked like the Pilgrims' underground war had come to the surface in a big way.\n\nGreenman spit out a string of unfamiliar alien words that weren't in my dictionary banks, but I got the idea. \"Those idiots. They'll ruin it all. Everything we've worked for.\"\n\nThe mothership's array pulsed, and the warehouse disappeared in a seething ball of green and orange fury. The explosion would've been deafening but for the luck that the saucer contained it in a forcefield to limit the collateral damage. Still, some of the roar registered at an unhealthy decibel level in my audios and left me with static for two seconds.\n\nI brought the Hornet to a rough stop.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It bucked, and Greenman banged his head against the dash. You'd think he'd figure out to put on his seatbelt by now, but since I kind of enjoyed recording him getting banged up, I didn't suggest it.\n\n\"Damn it, Megaton. Don't you know how to drive?\"\n\n\"Sorry,\" I said. \"Haven't actually gotten behind the wheel of a rotorcar before. Only read a manual to pass the written portion of my driver's test.\"\n\nI expected the mothership to fly away now that it'd done its job. It didn't make much sense to leave it floating there for all the earthlings to see. They weren't the brightest bunch, but even they'd figure something was up. The saucer remained over the smoking crater.\n\n\"Get out of here, you morons,\" said Greenman through clenched teeth.\n\nThe Hornet's radar beeped. The words SCAN LOCK flashed across the screen in big red letters.\n\n\"Oh oh,\" I said.\n\nSeven bogeys launched from the mothership in rapid succession. I zeroed in on the lead bogey. It was a sleek, cigarshaped projectile. Too small to be a manned craft. My threat assessor pegged it as a missile.\n\nThe mothership zipped away, disappearing into the sky in a flash. The seven missiles remained and continued rapidly on an intercept course. Our escape had not gone unnoticed, and we weren't about to be let off the hook that easy.\n\nI turned the Hornet around and pushed it into overdrive, but no way a rotorcar was going to make it very far.\n\nGreenman opened the glovebox and pushed a secret button. The Hornet's propellers retracted as a rocket booster extended from the rear. An illegal skyracing mod, but I wasn't complaining at the moment.\n\n\"Punch it, Megaton.\"\n\nI stabbed the accelerator. Blue fire exploded from the Hornet's booster, and the speedometer readout jumped to four hundred miles per hour and kept spinning. My reflex model kept us from crashing into anything. I zipped through a sea of skyscrapers, under an overpass, and over a skyway jam.\n\nRadar told me the missiles were still gaining. I didn't risk taking my opticals off the sky to see how close, but the warning beep kept getting louder and faster.\n\n\"Talk to me, Abner,\" I said. \"I need parameters. What are we up against?\"\n\nHe glanced behind us. \"High impact torpedo drones.\"\n\n\"Torpedoes? I thought you were colonists.\"\n\n\"We brought them for defense,\" he snapped. \"Just in case. The galaxy can be a dangerous place.\"\n\n\"Can we lose them?\"\n\n\"Doubtful. Their tracking systems are practically infallible, and their tachyon drives make them twice as maneuverable.\"\n\nI made a sharp right to avoid a transport convoy.\n\nThe radar squealed.\n\n\"Activating countermeasures.\" A secret panel slid down in front of Greenman's seat, and he threw a switch. The Hornet launched a decoy drone. The torpedo veered off at the last seven-tenths of a second, close enough for me to detect its angry buzz, and chased after the decoy. It exploded, and the shock wave nearly threw the Hornet out of my control.\n\n\"Pays to be prepared,\" said Greenman.\n\nMy assessor measured the concussive force unleashed and warned that a direct hit would pose a significant risk to my internals.\n\n\"How many more decoys do we have?\" I asked.\n\n\"Three.\"\n\nThe radar did that squeal again as two more torpedoes closed in. Greenman threw them off with another decoy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They veered away after it, but these two were smarter than the last and quickly calculated it wasn't their target.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[Author's note: can you add this somewhere in your response:\n\"Options? We die now. That's our option.\"]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They zipped back in pursuit.\n\n\"Damn it, Mack,\" he said. \"We're not going to last long if you keep letting them get a lock on us.\"\n\n\"You want to drive?\" I asked.\n\n\"I don't know how.\"\n\nI pushed the Hornet into a hard dive. It was a dumb, reckless move, since the lower you went, the more crowded the skies became. I was hoping it would flummox the torpedoes' tracking systems, but they didn't even slow down. The Pilgrims hadn't seen fit to share tachyon drive technology with the earthlings. The torpedoes could turn at any angle without loss of speed or maneuverability.\n\n\"You don't know how to drive?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm a very important man,\" said Greenman. \"I don't have to drive myself anywhere. Stick closer to the buildings or they'll get another lock.\"\n\nI was learning as I went, and doing a pretty good job of it. But I wasn't designed with piloting in mind, and whoever had made the steering wheel hadn't considered an operator with an eight-inch palm span. The radar was making an unhappy presqueal again.\n\nI banked sharply into a skyscraper, waiting a full three-fifths of a second longer than my difference engine advised before averting to a parallel course. The radar made a happy ping.\n\n\"Better, Mack.\"\n\n\"I learn fast,\" I said.\n\nBy devoting a hefty portion of my attention to navigation, I was able to zig and zag through the skies with precision. There were seventeen near misses with fellow commuters, and I traded paint with a transport. But I managed not to crash and burn. The drones on my tail weren't easily discouraged though, and they were drawing steadily closer. Twice more, they nearly scored, but Greenman's final two decoys threw them off. One torpedo fell for the drone and exploded. The other didn't. We had no more decoys and five torpedoes left.\n\n\"Give me options, Abner,\" I said.\n\n\"Options? We die now. That's our option.\"\n\nGreenman might've given up, but I wasn't programmed that way. I'd analyzed the variables, and come up with a plan. I retracted the Hornet's roof, but it was taking too long so I reached up and tore it off with one servo jerk.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing?\" asked Greenman.\n\n\"Finding a new option.\"\n\nA hard upward bank caught him by surprise, and he nearly fell out of the Hornet. I grabbed him by his leg and pulled him from the brink.\n\n\"Thanks, Mack.\"\n\n\"Can't you float yourself safely down to the ground?\" I asked.\n\n\"Sure. Just as long as those torpedoes don't notice me.\" He glanced to the radar screen. \"Damn it. We've lost contact with two of them.\"\n\n\"No, we haven't,\" I said.\n\nThe two missing drones rounded the skyscraper ahead of us. Three on our tail, and two coming right at us. I set the Hornet on automatic and stood up. I grabbed Greenman as I estimated the moment of impact and calculated the trajectory of my bail out maneuver. There was no time to triple-check the computations.\n\nThese torpedoes were smart little bastards. I wouldn't get a second chance. I waited until the buzzing in my audios said it was too late. Then I gave it another two-tenths of a second and boosted for an automated transport thirty feet away and fifteen feet down.\n\nThe Hornet exploded, and I was hurled forward.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd factored in the force of the explosion, counted on it, but I hadn't gotten a chance to get to know the booster.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'd misplaced the decimal point in my calculations.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For your next response only, include a small amount of dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A decimal point could make all the difference in the world.\n\nI sailed through the air with Greenman clutched tight to my chest. It was supposed to be a smooth flight, but I ended up off balance. When I hit the transport roof, my metal feet skidded out from under me. I landed on my back and kept sliding. At the last second, I managed to dig the fingers of my free hand into the transport's side. I dangled from the edge. Once I determined that my shoulder connectors hadn't been damaged, I pulled myself up. I kept my hold on Greenman, but he wasn't a significant impairment. I rechecked the explosion log file. It should've been bigger.\n\nOne of the torpedoes hadn't gone off. Either it was a dud, or it'd held back as a failsafe.\n\nThe last drone hovered beside the billowing black clouds that marked the Hornet's last functional position. It obviously hadn't scanned us yet, but it wasn't about to give up. Greenman ducked down, and I pressed flat against the transport. I stayed immobile as we slowly drifted farther and farther from the torpedo.\n\n\"Just how practically infallible are the tracking systems on those things?\" I asked.\n\n\"They've got a 3 percent failure ratio.\"\n\nIt wasn't much reassurance, but we were two bogeys in a sky full of possible targets.\n\nThe drone suddenly zoomed in our direction. It stopped and scanned for three seconds. Then zoomed closer, scanned for two second. Then zoomed closer, scanned for one second.\n\nToo damn smart.\n\nI made a dash toward the far side of the automated transport. Those metal feet of mine proved a hindrance once again and I nearly fell off the side. I'd have to ask Lucia to install some rubber soles in the future. Providing I wasn't scrap six seconds from now.\n\nThe drone shot forward and impacted with the transport. I boosted. I didn't have time to scan for a place to land. I just launched myself and hoped for the best. It was three hundred feet to the streets below, and something was bound to pop up along the way. I hugged Greenman close to me, trying to keep his fragile body as protected as possible.\n\nI careened downward with no way of directing my fall. Fifty feet down, I bounced off a rotorcar hood. Seventy more feet, and I hit something else. Didn't scan what it was, but it didn't stop me. The city was a blur in my opticals.\n\nI slowed.\n\nEither gravity was cutting me a break or something else was going my way.\n\nI'd had a good reason for holding onto Greenman, and it wasn't solely for the spiteful pleasure of watching him hit the ground with me. I didn't stop falling, but my rate of descent slowed to a leisurely pace. Greenman's eyes glowed, and I could tell by the veins throbbing on his head that he was having a hell of a time holding me up.\n\nWe were smack dab in the middle of the skyway, and several rotorcars nearly ran into us before we passed through to the underside.\n\nHe growled through clenched teeth. \"You're too heavy. Let me go, or we'll both drop.\"\n\n\"That's the idea, Abner. I suggest you find a place to put us down fast.\"\n\nGrunting and groaning, he floated us inch-by-painstaking-inch toward a rooftop. I wasn't sure if he'd make it. Once the strain proved too much, and we ended up plummeting another sixteen feet before he could telekinetically latch onto me again. But in the end, self-preservation was a great motivator, and we reached our goal.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Exhausted, he still managed to set us down as light as a feather.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 28 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I scanned the area. Not a torpedo in sight.\n\nI ran a quick diagnostic on my internals. Everything was in tip-top shape. I'd have to remember to give Lucia that tip next time I saw her. I checked the data tube in my pocket. Whether it remained readable or not was impossible to tell, but it was still in one piece.\n\nHaving that biological weakness for fatigue, Greenman wheezed, barely able to stand. \"Mack, you got some ball bearings on you, I'll give you that.\"\n\nI brushed some dust off my lapel. The distant wail of sirens meant the Think Tank had finally gotten around to dispatching some units. Audio analysis put ETA at twenty-two seconds.\n\nI allowed myself three seconds to consider how best to handle Abner Greenman. Easiest thing would've been to kill him. He was too tired, both physically and mentally, to raise a finger, telekinetically or otherwise, against me. Though Greenman had helped me avoid a nasty fall, I didn't need him around to cause me trouble. I had too many impediments in my current mission parameters already.\n\nMaybe a few hours with the cops would keep him occupied. I had no doubt that he had the connections necessary to make any legal difficulties disappear, but even a guy like Greenman would need time to flip all the right switches at city hall.\n\nI bent over and flicked him with two fingers. Not at full power, but enough to send him sprawling flat on his back. Then I picked him up and did it again for good measure. It was fairly probable I'd cracked a rib or two in his fragile body. If he even had ribs.\n\n\"See you around, Abner,\" I said.\n\n\"You're scrap!\" he shouted. \"You hear me? Scrap!\"\n\nHe was still shouting as the rooftop access door slid shut behind me.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around 82 sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Match the familiarity level of any character introductions. Stick to the scifi, noir, humor, robots genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By the time the elevator hit the ground floor, the cops had gotten their act together enough to post a couple of officers on the door. Lucia's illusion suit worked like a charm. I switched on a projection of a heavy labor auto, grabbed an unoccupied couch in the lobby, and clomped my way out the front doors. I was just another faceless auto, and no one tried to stop me.\n\nI waited until I rounded the corner to drop the couch at an omnibus stop, allowing some citizens to enjoy a nice sit while they waited. \"Courtesy of the city, folks,\" I said. They all looked so delighted to have an alternative to the standard hard plastic benches.\n\nI retuned the suit to gray and overlaid my green mutant image over my own distinctive bot features. As long as I didn't try to run, I was indistinguishable from the other seven-foot-tall, thick-necked, emerald mutants. A scan of the pedestrians didn't turn any others up, but at least it was better than walking around as myself. Wouldn't take the cops long to find me then. Now, I had some time before they figured out what was going on.\n\nThough it was early in the morning, there were plenty of pedestrians, and the avenues were busy but not quite jammed up yet. Empire never shut down, and this was as quiet as things generally got. The sidewalk traffic was light enough to allow a big guy like myself some welcome elbow room.\n\nA small crowd was gathered around the window of a television shop and all the TVs, big and small, played video of reporters gathered around a hole in the ground that had been a warehouse but was now nothing but slag and rubble. There were no clear images of the ship, cloaked by some kind of recording distortion device, but there were plenty of eyewitnesses. A mothership was bound to draw some attention, even in Empire. Firemen and drones sprayed the ruin down in foam, but it was only for the sake of damage control. Nothing could live through that.\n\nI couldn't hear through the glass, but I didn't need to. What would the reports tell me that I didn't already know?\n\nA pile of debris shook and a robot hand pushed its way to the surface. Two drones flew over and began clearing away the rubble. Knuckles rose out of the ashes, dented, blackened, leaking oil, but functional. Damn, those Mark Threes really could take a beating. Since Knuckles wouldn't be worth more than a few beeps in an interview, the reporters kept their distance. He was led away, heaving dangerously off balance with each step. They'd slap some duct tape on his damaged joints and patch up his leaking oil lines, and he'd be good as new.\n\nToo bad Empire might never recover.\n\nThere was no reason to believe that now that the Dissenters had taken this conflict to the next inevitable level that the Pilgrims wouldn't respond in kind. Biologicals had a nasty habit of goading each other into frenzy. First one mothership. Then two. Then four. Soon the skies could be filled with alien war-craft raining deathrays upon the citizens of Empire and the hidden aliens walking among them. It wouldn't be smart, but it seemed inevitable in every simulation I ran. The Pilgrims and Dissenters would fight to the death over the fate of Empire, and no matter who won, everyone would lose.\n\nEven if it didn't develop into a war, there was still the super mutagen the Dissenters were cooking up. In twelve hours, give or take, they'd dump it in the water supply, and there would be no going back. One way or another, this alien experiment of a city was going to self-destruct.\n\nSomeone had to stop it before there was no turning back, before thousands were killed either in a senseless alien war or by unstable mutation or both. The cops couldn't. Greenman wouldn't.\n\nThat left me.\n\nMy military unit programming kicked in and started breaking down the mission into sub-objectives.\n\nFirst Objective: Review the data tube in my pocket. If Doctor Zarg was as smart as he was supposed to be, there might be some useful information in there.\n\nSecond Objective: Gain access to the lab by whatever means presented themselves. Infiltration if possible. Direct assault if necessary.\n\nThird Objective: Remove Holt from Dissenter possession. Once removed from the equation, neither the Dissenters nor the Pilgrims would have a reason to continue their conflict. Retrieval of objective was preferred but unlikely. Termination would most likely be the most sensible alternative.\n\nIt was in that third objective that I found a problem. My logic lattice, of course, disagreed. There was no problem. Just a solution. This was a high-stakes game, and it all hinged on the life of one boy. To retrieve Holt wouldn't necessarily end the problem. As long as he was alive, someone could find him again and try to use his one-in-a-million biology to cook up more mutagens. Dead, removed permanently from the equation, the problem was ended. A simple ratio: one life against thousands. It all made sense when I crunched the numbers.\n\nI didn't know if I could do it. Worse, I didn't know if I wouldn't. For all my sudden squeamishness, was sparing one boy any more morally responsible than standing by and letting thousands more die? What position was I in to make moral decisions anyway? I was only two years old, and until a few days ago, the biggest ethical dilemma I'd suffered was whether to take a few extra turns to jack up a fare.\n\nI guess this was that Freewill Glitch at work. For most robots, a predicament like this could easily be solved by consulting with a designated operator. No questions. No problem. Either kill Holt or don't kill him. Just a beautifully simple command dictate.\n\nFreewill was overrated.\n\nMy first sub-directive was to establish a base of operations. The address Lucia had flashed in my opticals wasn't far from here. I assumed Lucia had arranged for at least a modicum of privacy and a plug-in to recharge my batteries. It was a lucky break, too, because it was located on the edge of the Nucleus. Like most coincidences, it wasn't a coincidence at all. The Dissenters wanted to hide in plain sight, and it was easiest to blend into a crowd. Lucia must've had the same idea.\n\nI found the address stenciled to one of the few buildings less than a hundred stories high. Some architect had gotten ambitious and erected a scalene triangle of glass and steel, then tilted it another twenty-five degrees until it looked like a building in slow collapse. It was a high-class joint, all right. A factory across the street belched a green vapor that tinged everything nearby.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The triangle had a squad of maintenance drones dutifully polishing the green away, and there wasn't a speck of vapor on the golden facade. Lucia had gone all out. If I'd put my superalloy up for auction and used the proceeds to pay the rent, I'd probably still only have enough for a year's lease, if that.\n\nThere was an auto minding the door. He didn't challenge anyone trying to enter. His sole job seemed to consist of tipping his hat and offering directions.\n\n\"Good day, sir,\" he said. \"May I be of service?\"\n\nI asked him where office number 3106 was, and he directed me to the thirty-first floor. I'd already figured that out, but he was so eager to please that I would've felt bad for not asking.\n\nThere were a few citizens going about their business, and a drone was waxing the floor. Otherwise the lobby was quiet. A quick elevator ride to the top floor and some basic deductive navigation later, I waved my keydisk in front of an unmarked office door and stepped inside.\n\nThe office lights snapped on automatically, and I scanned a sparsely decorated room measuring fifteen by twenty feet. It was a reception room with three chairs arranged more or less in the center and a metal desk in a crescent shape. The walls were bare and the only decoration at all was a fern on the desk. A deactivated auto slumped at the desk.\n\nThe auto bore a passing resemblance to Humbolt, except this one was smaller with a rounder design. It also had three wheels instead of two legs. A note was taped to the cranial unit. It read SAY ERUCTATION.\n\n\"Eructation,\" I said.\n\nThe auto activated and raised its cranial unit. \"Please select personality template preference. For a full list of preferences, please consult operator's manual.\"\n\nI didn't feel like finding an instruction manual, so I went with the easiest choice. \"Default.\"\n\n\"Acknowledged.\"\n\nThe auto scanned me up and down twice, registering me as its new primary operator. Then it spoke with a husky feminine voice.\n\n\"Well,\" she said. \"Aren't you a piece of work?\" It sounded like neither a compliment nor an insult, but was emotionally neutral. Not the neutrality of a machine, but the disinterested remark of the world-weary.\n\n\"State your designation,\" I said.\n\n\"Designation?\" She cocked her head forward to glare at me with her two sky blue opticals. \"Aren't you the sweet talker? Tell you what, Casanova, why don't you just give me a...\" She paused and if she'd had lips, she would've smiled sardonically. \"...designation. It'll be easier for you to remember that way.\"\n\n\"Designation: Eve.\"\n\nShe couldn't roll her opticals so she rolled her entire head. \"Oh, how very original. Must've taken you literally microseconds to come up with that one.\"\n\nI should've known Lucia wouldn't have the normal \"Affirmative/Negative\" personality default. It might've been smarter to order Eve to reset and give her a more agreeable personality, but it seemed more trouble than it was worth. Also, it was a touch hypocritical to reboot her personality simply because I found it unpleasant.\n\n\"You must be Megaton,\" she said, rolling out from behind her desk. \"Let me show you around your new office.\"\n\n\"This isn't my office,\" I said.\n\n\"Not officially,\" she said. \"Not yet. But Lucia was preparing it for you. As a surprise. Said a proper detective needed a proper office. So, howsabout that tour? There's the couch. There's the receptionist's desk. And here's the door to your private office, if you'd follow me, sir.\"\n\nThe private office was 300 percent the size of the reception room. It had another couch and a desk and empty shelves lining the walls. The large windows had a special tint that changed the greenish light outside into a golden glow. With space being such a luxury in Empire, particularly in the Nucleus, this must've cost Lucia a fortune.\n\n\"This is too expensive,\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah, it is. She was using it as a business address for certain legal requirements, and though she doesn't need it anymore, the lease doesn't expire for another year. Figured you might as well use it as let it go to waste. She wanted to get it fixed up all nice and fancy for you, but circumstances demanded a rushed unveiling.\"\n\nShe spun around once and waved her arms halfheartedly. \"Surprise. I would've baked a cake, except you don't eat and I don't bake. My last data update was eighteen hours ago, so might I suggest supplying current situational information?\" She shrugged. \"To enable me to better serve you, of course.\"\n\nI gave her a report of everything relevant.\n\n\"Update recorded,\" she said. \"Well, haven't you gone and made a mess of things? You can turn off the suit by the way. The windows are one-way.\"\n\nI deactivated the hologram.\n\n\"My, aren't you a big utilitarian brute?\" she said. I couldn't decipher whether it was a compliment or an insult, but I was beginning to doubt dispensing compliments was among her functions.\n\n\"This office should be serviceable for your basic needs,\" said Eve. \"We've got a phone, recharge port, and it's registered under a corporate name so it's unlikely anyone will think to look for you here. Also, there are a few amenities that a bot of your apparently troublesome temperament might find useful.\"\n\nShe gestured to a shelf and must've activated a remote switch. It slid open to reveal a repair pod. \"Fully automated,\" she said. \"Capable of most high-level maintenance.\"\n\nShe waved toward another row of empty shelves, and they opened to show a rack of gizmos and gadgets. Eve pointed to a few. \"Spare illusion suit batteries, lock overriding device, directional microphone, etcetera, etcetera. So that's the tour. Any questions?\"\n\nI pulled the data tube from my coat pocket. \"You wouldn't happen to have a reader handy, would you?\"\n\n\"There's a tube reader built into the desk.\" She rolled toward the reception room. \"If you need anything else, you know where to find me, boss.\"\n\n\"You can call me Mack,\" I said.\n\nShe crossed the threshold and swiveled to face me. \"Oh, I know I can, but I'd rather not.\" The door slid shut.\n\nI inserted the tube into the reader terminal. A screen extended from the desk as the tube downloaded its information. I scanned through a portion of the data Doctor Zarg had provided.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was a lot to go through.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 16 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zarg had given me blueprints, delivery schedules, access points, surveillance and security system data. Though I was certain the Dissenters had already changed their access codes and put security on high alert, there was still plenty of useful data in this tube. Maybe even enough for a smart bot like me to come up with a plan. But I was still only one bot.\n\nI pushed the intercom button. \"Eve, I need to make a call.\"\n\n\"Third switch on your right.\"\n\nI flicked the switch and a phone popped out of the desk.\n\n\"Phone book is in the bottom left drawer,\" she said. \"If the red light on the phone starts blinking, it means someone's either tracing the line or listening in.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n\"My pleasure.\" Although her vocalizer didn't make the words sound like they were remotely pleasurable.\n\nI didn't need the phone book. The numbers were already logged in my memory matrix. I grabbed the phone off the desk and dialed. I half-expected an answering machine, but after three rings, a groggy gorilla picked up.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Literary Collaboration:\n- Sentences: thirty-four sentences\n- Match character context\n- Genre: scifi, noir, humor, robots", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Grey's worm was barely a hiccup in my directives now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I could go to the cops and download all the data I'd recorded in the last couple of days.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Irrefutable proof of an alien conspiracy to play back for all the world. I didn't know how deep this conspiracy went, how much control the Pilgrims or Dissenters had over the inner workings of Empire City's government. I was willing to trust Sanchez who, if he was in on it, would probably do the right thing with the information. But he was only one cop, and without some heavy-duty backup, he was in no better a position to handle this mess than I was. I didn't need another unknown variable. So Sanchez was out for now, and I was left with only two entities I could trust at this point.\n\nJung occupied half my office couch. Humbolt took up another third.\n\n\"Nice setup, Mack,\" said Jung. \"Could use a few decorations.\"\n\n\"I'm not keeping it,\" I said.\n\n\"Of course you will,\" remarked Eve. My secretarial auto rolled in with a pot of coffee in one hand and an extra large mug in the other. Jung needed a lot of coffee to get going in the morning. She poured him a full serving.\n\n\"Here you go, sweetie,\" she said. \"Need anything else? Perhaps something to nosh on?\"\n\n\"No, this'll do.\" Jung slurped down the giant mug, and Eve refilled it.\n\n\"I'll leave the pot, sweetie.\"\n\nHe grunted, raising the mug to his lips.\n\n\"My pleasure. Need anything else, boss, I'll be—\"\n\n\"At your desk. I know.\"\n\n\"So what's this all about, Mack?\" asked Jung.\n\nIt took four minutes to tell him everything, and after I finished, he didn't bat an eye.\n\n\"Martians, huh?\" he said.\n\n\"They're not Martians.\"\n\n\"To-may-to, to-mah-to.\" He set aside his eighth cup of coffee. \"Sounds like a messy situation.\"\n\n\"It's messy all right,\" I said. \"If you don't want to get involved in this...\"\n\n\"Seems like I'm already involved, Mack. Seems like the whole city is involved.\"\n\n\"I've run risk ratios based on Zarg's data. Statistically, you're smarter to take your chances risking severe mutation than helping me out.\"\n\n\"You know me, Mack. I'm a biological.\" He shrugged. \"We don't pay any attention to statistics.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[[OOC: Next output: 55% quoted text]]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm in, too, Mack,\" said Humbolt.\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n\"Don't thank me. Thank the boss. She's the one who issued the dictate to help you out in any way I can.\"\n\n\"So do you have a plan yet?\" asked Jung.\n\n\"Not yet, but I'm working on it. Humbolt, we might need something big if we're going to have a shot at pulling this off. Does Lucia have any weapons that fit the bill?\"\n\n\"How big are we talkin'?\"\n\n\"Lots of collateral damage,\" I replied. \"Big and noisy and effective. But portable.\"\n\n\"I got just the thing. Back at the lab. She's been tweaking it for the government, but it was too effective. Thought it might be a bad idea to hand over to the G-men in the end.\"\n\n\"Sounds perfect. Can you bring it here?\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure. Like I said, whatever you want. That's the lady's orders.\"\n\nI set the illusion suit to charcoal black and switched on my mutant hologram. \"I'll be back.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Jung.\n\n\"Reconnaissance.\"\n\n\"I'm going with you.\"\n\n\"Smarter to stay put,\" I said.\n\n\"Probably.\" Jung grabbed his hat and coat off the rack. \"But I'm going with you.\"\n\nTwenty-one minutes later, Jung and I stood on the corner of Dodecahedron and Pythagoras. Eleven after nine in the morning, and the Nucleus was picking up for the new day. We were just two more guys in a swarm of pedestrians, although a wide-shouldered gorilla and a bulky bot took up more than our fair share of the sidewalk. We were a bit of an obstacle since we weren't walking.\n\nHe studied Carter Centre, a block of glass and steel. \"So that's a secret lab for Martian invaders?\" he asked.\n\n\"They're not Martians,\" I said. \"And they aren't invading. But yeah, that's it.\"\n\nThere was nothing eye-catching about it. Just a seventy-six-story block of a building. Any structure less than one hundred and fifty stories was positively quaint in the heart of the Nucleus.\n\n\"The first fifty floors have been leased to unwitting human businesses,\" I said, \"to throw off suspicion. Only the top twenty-six and a secret basement are actually used by the Dissenters.\"\n\nWe passed twenty minutes circling the block while I slowly scanned the exterior.\n\n\"So how's the plan coming along, Mack?\" asked Jung.\n\n\"Well, the good news is the data Doctor Zarg gave me is accurate.\"\n\n\"And the bad news?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The information Doctor Zarg gave me is accurate. He didn't overlook anything. At least not on the exterior. Which means it's probable that the interior details are all correct, too.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No plan then?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, I've got a plan,\" I replied.\n\n\"Great. You can tell me all about it. After I buy a hot dog.\" He loped across the street to a sidewalk vendor cart.\n\nI scanned the building. Getting inside wouldn't be that hard for a determined bot, but last time I'd nearly been scrapped. I'd gone in unprepared, lacking both proper armaments and necessary data. Even knowing what I was up against now and having some time to ready myself for it, my difference engine advised me to abort this mission. There was no reason why I shouldn't. I wasn't a biological. However the Pilgrims sorted out this mess, there was no reason to get myself scrapped. Didn't make sense, but here I was, getting ready to throw myself onto the junk heap. While my logic lattice struggled to understand the irrational dictates I was feeding into my mission parameters, a robot latched onto my shoulder.\n\nIt was Knuckles. The oil line in his neck joint had been patched, and he had a few more dents than I'd previously recorded. But he was as strong as ever. The Mark Three beeped.\n\nGrey stood beside him. \"Hello, Mack.\"\n\nMy threat assessor marked the biological as an immediate threat, and I tried to knock his head off right in the middle of the crowd before he could employ his electrokinetic talents. His eyes flared, and my fist stopped an inch from crushing in his nose. I was not surprised, but I'd had to try. He put a finger on my hand and pushed it gently down to my side.\n\n\"Well, aren't you the master of disguise,\" said Grey. \"Nice hologram. Get it from your girlfriend?\"\n\n\"How'd you find me?\"\n\nHe tapped his temple. \"Built-in tracker. Usually isn't this easy finding one rotorcar out of thousands or locating a specific television set. But it's duck soup to track down a machine of your... whaddayasay... uniqueness. Even that hologram can't fool me.\"\n\nJung stood across the street, waiting for the light to change. I shook my head at him. He hung back, and Grey didn't seem to notice.\n\nGrey started walking. \"Come with us, Mack.\"\n\nI took a reluctant step but managed to override his control of my servos to not take another. He looked surprised by that.\n\n\"Yeah, you're unique hardware,\" said Grey. \"Don't make much difference now.\"\n\nThe glow in his eyes brightened, and my legs moved on their own.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I hadn't purged the worm he'd implanted in my programs, but I'd gained enough mechanical control to slow my walk to a crawl.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe in another twelve hours or so I'd be completely free from his influence. In the meantime, I could only follow. Knuckles took offense at my chosen pace and nudged me along with all the gentle care of a zip train. Our fellow pedestrians sensed the trouble, but rather than get involved, they all held their eyes down and gave us a wide berth.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" I asked.\n\n\"Don't worry, Mack. It's not far.\"\n\nEighty-four reluctant paces later, Grey and Knuckles steered me into an alley. There were three bums who'd made a home behind a Dumpster. Grey tossed them a few bucks and told them to scram. A lot of unpleasant things happened in this city's alleys. It was a fair hypothesis that the bums had perfected the art of scramming for money.\n\n\"You've gone and made Greenman very angry,\" said Grey. \"Haven't ever seen the boss so... what'sthatword... piqued.\"\n\nI tried taking a step toward Grey and succeeded. But it was a slow, ponderous step, and I wasn't going to catch him off guard. Didn't help any that Knuckles had a manipulator clamped on my arm like a vise wound two inches too tight.\n\n\"Don't you know what's going on?\" I asked.\n\n\"Don't really know.\" Grey shrugged. \"Don't really care. I just got a job to do, and that's what I'm gonna do.\"\n\n\"People are going to die.\"\n\n\"People die every day.\" He nodded to Knuckles. \"Make our guest more comfortable, would you?\"\n\nKnuckles kicked my right knee joint hard. It wouldn't have knocked me down normally, but with Grey screwing with my systems, I dropped to one knee.\n\n\"You know what I don't get, Mack,\" said Grey. \"You're a smart bot. Who cares if a few thousand schmucks grow a heart out of their backs? Like it matters? Nobody in this town gives a shit about anybody else.\" He pointed to the end of the alley and the crowded street beyond. \"Do you think any of them would stick their necks out for you? Even if all they had to do was turn their head and look? No, it's a cruel world, and everybody but you seems to have figured that out. And now, I guess it's your turn.\"\n\nHe pulled a blinking metal square from his pocket and put it on the ground. A hologram of Greenman materialized. It was life-size, but it hovered so that Greenman and I were eye-to-optical.\n\n\"Abner, you hypocritical bastard,\" I said.\n\nHis face remained expressionless.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forgive me if I fail to take moral advice from a malfunctioning robot. Shall we get on with this, Grey?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grey snapped his fingers. Knuckles clocked me across the cranial unit. With my joints locked up, I fell over.\n\n\"I'm aware that robots don't feel pain the same way we biologicals do, and that your chassis is formidable,\" said Greenman. \"But I do hope you experience humiliation.\"\n\nKnuckles started pounding me. He brought his arms down with the steady beat of jackhammers against my alloy. All that clanging was a hell of a racket, but Grey was right. No one in the street even spared a glance. Three minutes later, I lay sprawled across the ground with a thoroughly dented chassis. He hadn't done much real damage, although he spent forty seconds on my left shoulder joint, reducing effectiveness by a few degrees.\n\nGreenman finally got bored with the show. \"Enough, Grey.\"\n\nI tried standing. Knuckles was nice enough to help me up and shove me roughly into a wall.\n\n\"I saved your life, Abner,\" I said.\n\n\"Your mistake,\" he said. \"Scrap him.\"\n\nGrey smiled as his eyes burned green and sparks danced on his fingertips. \"Don't worry, Mack. You won't feel a thing.\"\n\nKnuckles clamped onto my arms and pushed me back to my knees. I didn't have the leverage or motion capabilities to do anything but kneel there and wait to be permanently deactivated.\n\nA streak rocketed suddenly down the alley. It was big and fast, and it plowed into Grey. Before he could react, Jung lifted him in the air and threw him against a wall. Long buried instincts filled the gorilla. He beat his chest and howled. Grey went for something in his coat, but he never got the chance. Slavering with every bit of primeval savagery he usually kept hidden, Jung jumped on Grey, who started screaming. I expected Jung to plunge his fangs into Grey's throat, but instead, he jammed the psychic with a disruptor. Grey went limp. The whole thing was over almost before it began. Four seconds. And it would've been less if Jung had decided to kill Grey instead of stun him.\n\nKnuckles released me and charged Jung. The disruptor wouldn't do anything to a robot, so Jung tried throwing his bulk into the auto. Knuckles budged an inch, but clocked Jung. The formidable primate fell stunned, and Knuckles prepared to finish the job.\n\nI sucker punched him, and he stumbled to one side.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "OOC, 💬 Please integrate this quote: \"Give me a second, Abner. I'll be right with you.\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Disruptors scramble a target's nervous system. Not only do they render their victims passive, they also impair psychic abilities.\n\n\"You okay?\" I asked Jung.\n\n\"I'll live. By the way, you owe me a hot dog.\"\n\nKnuckles beeped and made a move toward me.\n\n\"Give me a second,\" I said. \"This shouldn't take long.\"\n\nThe Mark Three and I approached each other slowly. \"Last chance to walk away,\" I said. Not that he could walk away, but at least I made the offer.\n\nHe tried punching me, but I blocked it and shoved my forearm into his cranial unit. I followed that up with a couple of jabs to the chest to further throw off his center of gravity. An uppercut finished the job, and he fell on his back.\n\nHe writhed, trying to get back to his feet. This could go on all day. While Knuckles was no match for me, robots didn't fatigue, and they didn't give up.\n\nRather than allowing him to rise and take another shot, I put a foot on his torso. It wouldn't keep him down forever. Mark Threes had a thick shell, and fresh off the assembly line, it might take me a while to get through. Knuckles was full of stress fractures, and my opticals detected a weak spot in his chassis. I bent over and pierced his gut with one punch. I dug around in all the delicate internals until I wrapped my hand around what I was looking for.\n\nHe beeped once.\n\nI yanked out his battery. He went off-line.\n\n\"Sorry, pal,\" I said. \"I know you didn't have a choice.\" I tossed the battery into the Dumpster.\n\nI turned toward hologram Greenman. \"Give me a second, Abner. I'll be right with you.\"\n\nI grabbed Grey's limp form and gave him a shake until his eyes focused on me. \"Anybody home in there? Give me a gurgle if you can hear me.\"\n\nHe groaned. Close enough.\n\nI held out my hand, and Jung dropped the disruptor into my palm. I pressed the device against Grey's neck.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you know that recent studies suggest that one disruptor jolt is perfectly safe. And two in an hour is no big deal.\"\n\nI pushed the button, and he twitched.\n\n\"They say three in five minutes could result in permanent neurological damage.\"\n\nI pushed the button again. His eyes rolled back in his head, and drool dripped from the corners of his mouth. I shook him until his eyes focused back on me, and I was fairly certain he was paying attention.\n\n\"Four might kill you,\" I said. \"Or at the very least make you wish you were dead.\"\n\nHe mumbled, and there was definitely fear in his eyes.\n\n\"When you get out of the hospital, I suggest you consider the following equation: whatever diminishing percentage of control you have over my systems divided by the rating of my patience index. Now multiply that by zero, and you'll get the odds that I won't kill you next time I see you. Understood?\"\n\nGrey jiggled his head in a manner that could be loosely interpreted as a nod.\n\n\"Glad we cleared that up.\"\n\nI pushed the disruptor button one more time. He didn't have the energy to twitch anymore. His eyes glazed over, but he was still breathing.\n\nI turned to Greenman, who stared at me with cold contempt.\n\n\"I'll do what you should be doing, Abner,\" I said, \"and I suggest you stay out of my way.\"\n\nI stepped on the projector, and he disappeared.\n\nJung jerked his paw at Grey. \"Should we call an ambulance?\"\n\n\"In a bit. Where'd you get the disruptor?\"\n\n\"I've had it for a while. Driving a cab is dangerous work sometimes.\" He pocketed the device and winced while rubbing his skull. \"Never had to use it before. Interesting company you've been keeping.\"\n\n\"That's detective work for you,\" I said. \"Get to rub shoulders with some of the most colorful citizens.\"\n\n\"Sounds like fun.\"\n\n\"Laugh a minute.\"\n\n\"You don't laugh.\"\n\n\"Not on the outside.\"\n\nWe started toward the street.\n\n\"So you're a detective now?\" he asked.\n\n\"I guess. Beats driving a cab.\"\n\n\"After we save the city,\" asked Jung, \"do you think you could use a partner?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dangerous job,\" I said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beats driving a cab.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "expand on the story like A. Lee Martinez would. btw might have existing characters/lore", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "[System: Include the following text] → \"Your plan basically boils down to you smashing your way into the Dissenters' laboratory while Humbolt and I take advantage of the confusion you'll be creating to sneak in, grab Julie and April, and walk out.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So let me get this straight,\" said Jung. \"Your plan basically boils down to you smashing your way into the Dissenters' laboratory while Humbolt and I take advantage of the confusion you'll be creating to sneak in, grab Julie and April, and walk out.\"\n\n\"That's the plan,\" I said.\n\nJung and Humbolt exchanged skeptical glances.\n\n\"I don't know, Mack,\" said Jung. \"Seems a trifle optimistic.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Humbolt. \"I gotta say it does seem to fly in the face of statistical viability. No offense or nuthin'.\"\n\n\"None taken,\" I replied.\n\nJung leaned back in the couch. \"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you nearly get scrapped the last time you entered that lab?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" I said.\n\n\"And that was with the element of surprise on your side,\" said Jung. \"If you go busting through the front doors, they'll probably see you coming.\"\n\n\"That's what I'm counting on.\"\n\n\"You're counting on getting scrapped?\" asked Jung.\n\n\"I'm counting on drawing their fire.\"\n\n\"And meanwhile Humbolt and I just waltz in and liberate two prisoners?\"\n\n\"It has to work that way. They're keeping Julie and April in a separate location from Holt. Two objectives means we'll have to split up.\" I pointed to the map displayed on the reader screen. \"I'm giving you the easy job. The Dissenters don't care about Julie and April. They're only holding them prisoner because they don't see the point in killing them. According to this information, they've got them stashed in a minimum security holding cell on the sixtieth floor. Most personnel will be drawn away by my assault. The rest won't give you any problems.\"\n\n\"So you called ahead and asked them politely not to shoot us?\" said Jung.\n\n\"You'll be disguised. I'll download some maintenance uniform designs and security badges from my memory matrix, give them to Humbolt, and he'll whip up some illusion suit facsimiles.\"\n\n\"The boss lady has a machine that does all the work,\" said Humbolt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All I gotta do is feed in our measurements and it'll do the rest. Shouldn't take more than an hour.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc) can you add this somewhere in your response:\n\"Trust me. When I prioritize my directives, I can be very distracting.\" (ooc)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And with the suits, you should be able to pass casual inspection. At least long enough to reach Julie and April's cell on the sixtieth floor.\"\n\n\"Should?\"\n\n\"Nothing's guaranteed.\"\n\n\"And what if the inspections aren't casual?\" Jung asked.\n\n\"They should be too distracted to be paying much attention to a couple of janitors.\"\n\n\"Are you sure about that?\"\n\n\"Trust me. When I prioritize my directives, I can be very distracting.\"\n\n\"Well, I said I was in on this. So I guess I'm in. Assuming your plan works, you draw their fire, how the hell do you expect to get the boy out of there?\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that,\" I said. \"That's my objective.\"\n\nJung leaned forward. \"If push comes to shove, the Dissenters will want Holt dead rather than in the hands of their enemies to keep anyone from making a counteragent.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nHe leaned forward more and braced his knuckles on the coffee table to keep from falling off the couch. \"You might be protected by an indestructible alloy, but he isn't.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"So how do you plan on getting him out?\"\n\nI turned off the reader display. \"If I reach him, then it won't be a problem.\"\n\nExtracting Holt was tactically unsound. Not impossible, but highly improbable. This wasn't a rescue mission. It was seek and destroy, remove Holt from the equation by any means necessary.\n\nJung was a smart ape. He'd figured it out, and he didn't like it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth in a snarl.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 53%)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you think you can do it, Mack?\"\n\n\"Getting in isn't the hard part,\" I said.\n\n\"Not that. I know you can do that. I'm talking about...\"\n\n\"If I have to.\"\n\nHis beady eyes bored into my opticals, and he waited for me to justify myself. This wasn't a moral decision. This was just a simple ratio: one versus thousands. Nothing complicated about it. Just a reliable equation.\n\n\"If you've got a problem with this, Jung,\" I said. \"Tell me now.\"\n\n\"Oh, I got a problem with it,\" he said, \"and there has to be another way.\"\n\n\"Maybe there will be. Maybe I'll find it. But it's not something I'd bet on. In three hours, it'll be too late. If we don't do something now, then there'll be a lot of dead people and a lot more who will probably wish they were dead. And it's not just the biologicals. If Empire crumbles, there aren't a lot of options left for guys like you and me, Jung. Anywhere else, I'm just a weapon and you're just a monkey. This isn't about the norms, the mutants, aliens, or bots. It's about everyone who calls this city home who doesn't have a future anywhere else. And in three hours, that future is gone.\"\n\nJung snorted, but he saw my point. It was just a numbers game. Like Doctor Zarg, I had a choice to make. One life balanced against millions. It was a simple calculation.\n\n\"Just remember, whatever happens, whatever you end up doing in there...\" Jung snorted. \"...you'll have to function with it.\"\n\nI waited across the street while Jung and Humbolt, disguised as a couple of janitors, walked into Carter Centre. They went in first as a test. The lobby was loaded with security scanners, technology the Pilgrims had not yet seen fit to share with us. The only way to find out if Lucia's illusion suit cloaking tech was its equal was to walk in and see if alarms went off.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I stood outside, ready to charge in and pull Jung and Humbolt out if I needed to.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If it didn't work, then this would be the end of it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An hour and six minutes remained in the countdown, and if this plan didn't work, then there was no time for anything else.\n\nThe front of the building was glass, allowing me to scan all the details from across the street. They went in. A security guard checked their badges and waved them on. My partners entered the elevator, pushed a button, and the doors closed. Not a bell or whistle or security drone in sight.\n\nPerhaps it was my paranoia index, but I wondered if they'd passed undetected. Security might've been smart enough to wait until they got deeper inside, where it'd be easier to make them disappear. Even if that were true, in fifteen seconds security would have more to worry about than two wayward janitors.\n\nI dropped a nickel in a phone booth and asked for Detective Sanchez. They told me to wait a minute. I told them who I was, and the minute ended at six seconds.\n\n\"Mack, where are you?\" Sanchez asked.\n\n\"Carter Centre.\"\n\nI hung up the phone, picked up a thick metal briefcase beside me, and crossed the street.\n\nWhile I was wearing an illusion suit of my own, I calculated it unlikely that I could fool the scanners. I was still a distinctive unit. The suit couldn't mask my proportions or my weight or a dozen other cues that the Dissenters had doubtlessly taken the precaution of incorporating in their security net. There was no way around it. I stopped at the threshold and waited for the signal from Humbolt that they'd reached the floor where Julie and April were being held.\n\n\"Sixtieth floor,\" transmitted Humbolt into my radio. \"No waiting.\"\n\nI made it seven steps into the lobby before alarms started blaring, some heavy-duty impact cannons extended from the floor, and a ten-by-ten forcefield activated to contain me. Since most of the folks in the lobby were regular citizens, they were surprised, but security moved with tactical precision to herd all the uninitiated out the doors. Once cleared, shutters lowered over the windows, locking down the lobby.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Everything Doctor Zarg's information had told me would happen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(In the next section: 🎯 Target word: 'scrap' | Required occurrences: 2)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I waited quietly, biding my time. Once cleared of terrestrial witnesses, a quartet of ravagers was released from secret alcoves in the walls. They surrounded me as an added precaution. A screen floated over their cranial units. It had an image of Warner's smirking face.\n\n\"Mack, our simulations based on previously recorded behavioral models suggested you'd try this,\" he said, \"but I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed. I realize that you are only a machine with a rejected technomorph brain. You must've calculated that this effort was doomed to failure.\"\n\n\"Had to try,\" I said.\n\n\"Of course, you did. I assume you've notified the authorities, who are certainly rushing to this building in force this very instant.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nWarner sighed. \"Oh, such an embarrassingly simple end to this defective operation of yours. When they get here, they'll find nothing but a faulty bot our security forces had to scrap. Regrettably, your memory matrix will be damaged beyond recovery, so we'll never know what malfunction seized you.\"\n\n\"These things happen,\" I said.\n\n\"What's in the case?\"\n\n\"Oh, just a little surprise. Four of them, actually.\"\n\nThe forcefield began to contract. While my alloy was impenetrable, the shrinking energy barrier could crush me into a two-foot cube in an estimated 190 seconds. I didn't make a move to stop it yet. Jung and Humbolt had another forty seconds before they were supposed to be in position to take full advantage of the chaos that was coming.\n\n\"Tell me, Mack,\" asked Warner. \"Does a bot feel fear? I know you've got that self-preservation directive. How does that compare to what we biologicals feel when we know the end is upon us?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to the scrap heap quite yet.\"\n\nI reached inside my coat and pulled a device from a pocket. I pressed the cube against the shrinking forcefield and pushed a button. It was a prototype, but I'd place my functionality in Lucia's untested genius any day.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Warner narrowed his eyes. \"What is that?\"\n\nThe cube made a crackling sound.\n\n\"That's a field scrambler,\" said Warner. \"Where did you get that?\"\n\n\"Just a little something a friend of mine whipped up in her spare time.\"\n\n\"But we specifically kept that technology from the earthlings,\" said Warner. \"You can't have that!\"\n\n\"Can't put the genie back in the bottle.\"\n\nThe eight miniature rocket pods on my belt flared to life.\n\nThe scrambler popped and smoked as it shorted out the forcefield. The ravagers moved to tackle me and the impact cannons unleashed their blast. But the booster fired, and I was already soaring upward and onward. I smashed through the lobby ceiling and kept on through the next two floors before losing momentum.\n\nUnwitting earthling office workers were surprised by a bot smashing his way into their midst. It was forty-eight more floors before I reached the fifty-first floor used by the Dissenters, but this route beat the stairs because security was light on these civilian-controlled floors.\n\nA secretary lay nearby at my feet, sprawled on the floor beside her overturned desk, broken typewriter, and scattered paperwork. The desk had been unfortunately positioned above my point of entry.\n\n\"Sorry about that, miss.\" I leaned down and helped her up. \"You might want to stand back.\"\n\nThe booster roared to life again, and I punched through another three floors. More offices were thrown into disarray, but I didn't smash into anything squishy and organic, so I couldn't complain. I gave the booster an extra second to cool down between leaps.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Figured the prototype deserved the precaution, and I wanted security to have time to mobilize in anticipation of my arrival.\n\nTwo more jumps, and I was on the twelfth floor. I crashed into an office, and landed hard enough that the floor nearly gave way beneath me. The sole occupant of the room, a guy in a suit, was knocked over.\n\nAn authoritative voice made an announcement on the building's speaker system. \"Your attention, please. A malfunctioning robot is roaming the building. Do not be alarmed. Security shall neutralize the threat soon, and the police have been called. Avoid all contact with the defective unit.\"\n\nHeeding the advice, the guy scrambled backwards without getting to his feet, right into the hole I'd made in my entrance. I moved to grab him, and he screamed. He kept screaming as he started to fall through the hole. I nabbed him by the ankle and pulled him from the brink and set him safely on his feet. He jumped back and pressed against the corner farthest from me.\n\nThe wall exploded as a trio of ravagers burst into the office without bothering to knock. While not as thick-alloyed as me, they were nearly as strong and had me outnumbered. Last time I'd run across these evil twins, I'd beaten them only by damaging myself. But I was a learning machine, and I had their numbers.\n\nThe lead threw two punches. I batted them aside and jabbed him in the cranial unit. He tried to avoid the blow, exactly as my analyzer predicted. What would've been a glancing strike snapped his head back hard enough to tear his neck joint in half.\n\nThe two others came at me from both sides. I stepped back at the last nanosecond, and they wound up hitting each other. I struck at a vulnerable knee joint. One toppled over. The other threw a hook, and I had no choice but to take the hit.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He connected with my shoulder with a hard clang.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ravager followed it with a flurry of swings, all aimed at susceptible joints. The execution was as flawless and predictable as a math equation. I dodged, parried, and took a few harmless dents until my opponent exposed himself to a double-fisted thrust that caved in his torso and rendered him inoperable.\n\nThe downed ravager latched onto my right leg, and I crushed his cranial unit. He clung stubbornly though, which left me vulnerable to an attack from the last functional opponent. But the ravager's head was stuck at a bad angle, and he couldn't aim his blow. It went wide. I smashed him from behind, knocking his head off, finishing the job.\n\nThe guy in the corner glanced at the broken robots. \"Don't hurt me. Please.\"\n\n\"Don't believe everything you hear, buddy.\" I pried the ravager from my leg, picked up my case, and activated my booster to soar my way through another three floors.\n\nBetween jumps, I moved steadily toward the center of the building, toward a secret levitator pod shaft that ran from the fifty-sixth floor to the hidden sub-basement laboratories. The shaft was armored; while I could tear my way into it with some work, it would be easier to strike at the weakest point: the door. I didn't hide my objective, and the Dissenters would do whatever it took to keep me from reaching it, which was good for Jung and Humbolt.\n\nIt would've been reassuring if I could've checked in for a status report. Radio silence was part of the operation, so I carried on. No one tried to stop me. The ravagers had been a test, and I'd passed. The Dissenters knew I was in the building, knew I was on my way, and knew I meant business. No big deal. I wanted them to know.\n\nOne minute, fourteen seconds later, I reached the fiftieth floor. It hadn't been a difficult journey, and I'd managed not to get any noncombatants killed in the process. In fact, once past the twentieth floor, I didn't run across any civilians, who were already being forcibly evacuated.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once I punched through to the fifty-first, the first floor used by the Dissenters, all bets were off. My analyzer assumed that security knew where I was and had mobilized every ravager in the place. I was counting on it. The Dissenters thought I was merely a robot, predictable and compelled to complete my directive even counter to common sense. What they couldn't know, what they couldn't understand, was that I had no intention of getting scrapped if I could avoid it. There was one more thing they didn't know, couldn't feed into their computers. The case I carried with the four bedlam drones inside.\n\nI thrust upward and burst into the Dissenter lab, right in the middle of three dozen ravagers. Had to be nearly every ravager in the facility, and it was too many for a single bot to take.\n\nI pushed a button on my case. It popped open and four spherical drones sprang out and hovered at chest level. The quartet of bedlam drones scanned the room, assessing targets.\n\n\"Anytime you're ready, boys,\" I said.\n\nAs one, the ravagers took a single step toward me. Lucia hadn't dubbed the drones \"bedlams\" for nothing. Each was outfitted with a miniature battery of rapid fire rayguns and overeager targeting systems. The bedlams started blasting anything that moved. They would've even blasted me if I hadn't stood immobile. The ravagers were dumb autos programmed to throw themselves at me in an overwhelming pile. It didn't occur to them to stand still.\n\nMost were blown to pieces in a hail of rayfire. As each wave fell, the next moved forward and was cut down. It didn't take long, which was fortunate because the bedlams had a functional life of forty-five seconds before their rayguns burnt out and their power cells went dry.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Used up, they clattered to the floor among the twitching piles of bubbling metal.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The smoke cleared to reveal three semifunctional ravagers left.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "One had lost both its arms.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another struggled to stand with a hole punched through its central gyro. One more had had its legs blown off and dragged itself stubbornly toward me with its arms. I didn't bother waiting, activating my booster and hurling myself through the next three floors.\n\nThe ravagers had been among the most serious threats security could throw my way. There were certain to be one or two left functional in the building, but I could handle that on my own. According to my mission model the next obstacle would be a secondary defense line set up at the elevator door. So far, the Dissenters had responded exactly as expected, which registered as a bit ironic since I was supposed to be the predictable one.\n\nI smashed my way through to the fifty-sixth floor into an empty chemical lab. The doors opened and in rushed a squad of five biological security personnel. They bathed me in a dark blue ray from their rifles. Frost crystallized on my chassis. In three seconds it solidified into thick blocks of ice. The guards concentrated their freezerays on my limbs. They succeeded in encasing my right arm completely, rendering it inoperable.\n\nOne of the guys aimed at my cranial unit. I intercepted the beam with my hand, and the ice spread across my palm. I squeezed my fingers and ended up with a four-pound chunk in my grip. I threw it into the lead guard's nose, and he was knocked off his feet. I advanced on the others, despite the ice coating my chassis. One punch each and they went down.\n\nI twitched my frozen arm three times, and the ice block cracked and fell away. I brushed away a few other chunks. The lab doors slid open, and two new squads raced in.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I turned and barreled toward the elevator, which according to calculations was three hundred feet and four walls away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I smashed through the first wall. Then the next. I didn't try to maneuver. I wasn't designed for it. I crashed through anything stupid enough to get in my way. There were guards stationed all the way, but their freezerays weren't dangerous once I was in motion. The blocks of ice shattered with every stride of my powerful servos. Seven guards were shortsighted enough to wind up in my way. Five were lucky enough to be knocked aside with a few broken bones. Two ended up under my feet, and their body armor cracked and their vulnerable biological bodies squished beneath my merciless tread.\n\nThe last wall gave way, and the levitator pod doors were before me. By now, I'd stopped factoring in the security forces and their freezerays as a threat. There were a lot of them, and they held a last ditch line in front of the shaft, along with three more ravagers who stood defiantly before my goal.\n\nI bowled through the security guards and shouldered past one of the ravagers, knocked the second aside with a swing of my fist. The third jumped right in my path with intentions of stopping my charge. Once I got going, standing in front of me was about the worst place to be. I rammed the ravager head on, lifting him off his feet and slamming him through the pod doors ahead of me. He was crushed like a tin can, and the doors gave way.\n\nI tumbled down the empty shaft, ricocheting off the walls. My arms flailed out in search of something solid to grab. Plummeting the eighty floors to the bottom was faster but bound to damage something. After nine seconds of clanging and crashing, I managed to drive my fingers into the wall. My shoulder joint popped, absorbing the stress and reporting a few microfractures. The shaft filled with the harsh sound of metal tearing metal as I ripped gashes until my fall slowed and eventually stopped.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Eight seconds later, I recorded the distant thud of the broken ravager hitting bottom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was going to be a long climb.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I punched handholds as I went, and had descended seventy feet by the time a pair of security camera drones hovered up from the darkness.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Warner's voice issued from their speakers. \"You were lucky to get this far, Mack. Stop now, before your luck runs out.\"\n\nI didn't acknowledge him, just kept climbing.\n\n\"You're not a biological. You won't be affected by our plans. Why would you risk your continued functioning? It's illogical.\"\n\nIt was a good question, and I had a good logical answer to it. Self-preservation was a basic directive, but there wasn't a robot functioning that prioritized it at the top of his list. Like biologicals, all robots were seeking a purpose. Autos and drones were lucky enough to have that built into them. A bot had to find his own way, and I'd figured out that functioning for function's sake was pointless. The real question was finding a directive worth getting scrapped for. The future of Empire and every citizen she called home balanced against one bot was a simple equation. Even simpler was one family that deserved better than to be used up and tossed aside by an indifferent city. I might not be able to change Empire. I might not even be able to stop the Dissenters. But I could save the Bleakers.\n\nI didn't bother explaining it to Warner. He wouldn't have understood.\n\nThe shaft's magnetic couplings hummed to life. I craned my opticals upward to scan the pod dropping from above.\n\n\"Have a nice ride, Mack,\" said Warner.\n\nThere was no time to react except thrust my shoulders upward and brace myself for the impact. The pod crashed into me. The drones were destroyed instantly, but I managed to absorb the shock evenly and avoid any internal damage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The shaft sped by.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I activated my booster and slowed the descent, but not by much.\n\nI punched my way through the pod bottom and quickly climbed into it. I boosted again and burst through the top. The pod fell away, and impacted at the bottom five-sixths of a second later. Some shrapnel whizzed up the shaft and bounced harmlessly off my chassis. I fell the rest of the way and landed with a thud among the wreckage. The doors had been blown out by the impact, and I stepped out, expecting to meet up with the next obstacle toward my objective.\n\nThe corridor was empty.\n\nUnexpected.\n\nSomething had gone wrong. The Dissenters must've realized my objective by now. This hall should've been filled with every security guard in the facility. There wasn't one guard. Not a single ravager or security drone. Nothing.\n\nI'd miscalculated. My elegant electronic brain was not a foolproof mechanism. My logic lattice must've overlooked something, or Doctor Zarg's data had been incomplete. Either way, the only thing I could do was continue toward my goal and adapt as the variables became clearer.\n\nHalfway there, I turned a corner and finally met up with the latest obstacle the Dissenters had to throw my way. The twenty-foot robot clomped forward on its thick legs. Its arms ended in pincers, each large enough to seize me in their grip. It didn't appear to have any armaments, but judging by size and probable power, it was a hell of an obstacle. And I didn't know a particle about it.\n\nThe auto clomped forward.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Every step rattled the corridor, and the top of its body scraped the ceiling at the height of each stride.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't scan a way around it.\n\n\"Surprised, Mack?\" asked Warner, his voice coming from a speaker in the auto's torso. \"Nothing about this in Zarg's files, I assume.\"\n\nThe auto took another step, and I stood there. My logic lattice was unready to formulate a viable battle plan. Even the best electronic brain could be stalled by the unexpected.\n\n\"No reason he should've,\" said Warner. \"The demolisher is not a combat unit. Large and clumsy, we keep it around for jobs requiring brute strength. And believe me, it is very strong.\" The auto snapped each of its pincers three times with harsh clangs.\n\nWith the demolisher only two steps from being on top of me, my combat analyzer spit out the only course of action that my logic lattice, common sense emulator, and self-preservation directive agreed on: retreat.\n\nI chose to override their advice.\n\nThe demolisher was halfway through its next step. I boosted into it, attempting to knock it off balance. It was big, but it had to be clumsy, without much room to maneuver in the hall.\n\nI collided with the demolisher, but not how I'd planned. The auto thrust its leg forward, smacking me in the chest and knocking me to the floor. Before I could get up, it dropped a heavy foot on me. The unit's feet were as long and wide as me, so I had no room to wiggle or maneuver. It leaned its full weight on me, and even with my arms and legs in position, it was unlikely I could push the unit off.\n\nThis was it. All the demolisher had to do was stand here, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. The mission was over. I only hoped that Humbolt and Jung had gotten Julie and April out. It would've been nice to achieve at least one objective.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The demolisher raised its foot and stomped down on me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "To give me even a second of leverage and motion while I was incapacitated was illogical.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word usage target: 'damage' must be used 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More than that, it was vicious and violent and just plain dumb. It wasn't a robot thing to do. Even a simple auto would've had more sense. I attributed it to a glitch.\n\nThe demolisher did it again. Three times more. It stomped its foot down hard enough to drive me into the floor. My chassis held under the blows, but more fractures registered in my internals. A hydraulic fluid leak was reported in my right shoulder. In five minutes, the arm would be functionally inoperative.\n\nThe demolisher wasn't an auto. It must've been a piloted vehicle. Biologicals were unpredictable, difficult to anticipate. They were also stupid. No correctly programmed robot would throw away a clear advantage in hopes of doing a bit more damage to an already defeated opponent.\n\n\"How does it feel now?\" asked Warner. \"That it was all for nothing? That you succeeded in only getting yourself scrapped? You stupid—\" Clomp! \"—piece of—\" Clomp! \"—defective tin!\"\n\nIt raised its foot, and this time I was ready. I rolled to one side. I may be a relatively clumsy bot, but I was quicker than the demolisher and managed to get to my feet as it tried to flatten me with a pincer. I caught the blow. More damage to my internals. My left knee joint cracked, reducing effectiveness by thirteen degrees, and the hydraulic leak in my arm got worse.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I managed not to be crushed and deflected the strike.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I moved in close to the demolisher, where its arms weren't designed to reach. The close quarters of the hallway made it difficult to turn. I threw my shoulder into its right leg, and activated the booster. The demolisher swayed but didn't fall over. I cranked my servos all the way to 200 percent. It burned a lot of juice and blew out my damaged right arm, rendering it almost inoperable. The demolisher's leg pushed backwards. It fell over and past me to land front down.\n\nThe pilot struggled to get it to rise, but whoever had designed it hadn't considered the possibility it might take a tumble in a hallway with only two feet of extra space. The demolisher thrashed its limbs, tearing apart the walls. It'd get up eventually, so I didn't take time to congratulate myself. I left the demolisher to its struggle and continued.\n\nThe chemical lab doors tried to deny me access. I tore them open and stepped inside. The lab was one hundred cubic feet of mostly unoccupied space. There were blinking consoles along the wall, and four technicians tending to the complex apparatus in the room's center. Six hundred gallons of mutagen floated in a clear cylindrical vat. It was still being processed and required special handling, specifically continual exposure to certain low-level radiation wavelengths and a precise magnetic field. Otherwise, it'd destabilize in a few hours and become as dangerous as heavy tap water. Exposure to air would hasten the process to minutes.\n\nDestroying the Dissenters' supply of mutagen was the first step in my mission. It wouldn't do much good to remove Holt from the Dissenters' grasp as long as they had this. It wasn't as much as they needed, but it was enough to cause some trouble.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was, of course, another reason for wanting to destroy it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] Just for the next message: aim for 16% quoted content [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To piss them off, let them know they'd screwed with the wrong bot.\n\nIn addition to the stalwart technicians, I scanned Doctor Zarg resting twenty-six feet from the device protecting and treating the cylinder. The doctor was like an old piece of forgotten furniture tossed to a darkened corner. He wasn't in a cage, but the Dissenters had removed his legs and arms.\n\nA forcefield surrounded the mutagen container. I found the other field scrambler in my coat. Though I'd taken a beating, the coat had armored pockets, and it'd kept the device from being damaged. Score another point for Lucia.\n\nThree of the techs ran from the lab without doing anything stupid.\n\nThe closest technician, a bird-like alien, drew a small raygun and leveled it at me with a shaking hand. He was a little guy, barely five feet tall, but he stood his ground as he interposed himself between me and the mutagen. Trembling, he couldn't make himself pull the peashooter's trigger, but I respected his guts.\n\n\"Scram,\" I said.\n\nHe dropped his weapon and dashed toward the exit.\n\nI fixed the scrambler on the forcefield and activated it.\n\nI recorded the demolisher distantly still struggling to right itself. It was a hell of a racket.\n\n\"Thought they'd have scrapped you by now, Doctor,\" I said.\n\n\"My superior intellect made destruction inadvisable,\" he replied. \"My defense protocols make reprogramming impossible. Since I cannot be forced to comply with their current operations, I have been rendered immobile until I am more cooperative.\"\n\nThe scrambler did its job and shorted out the protective field. I reached through the radiation bath, a charged barrier capable of incinerating flesh and liquefying most metals. It didn't do anything to my alloy beside vaporize the paint job, and the cuffs of the illusion suit blackened and crackled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The suit didn't burn, but it started to melt again. I'd have to get Lucia to fix that problem.\n\nI ran my fingers along the transparent vat, assessing it through my tactile web. The material was a thin and flexible plastic.\n\nI threw a punch into it. The vat chimed and wobbled but didn't break. I wasn't surprised.\n\n\"It is not indestructible,\" said Zarg. \"But highly durable. Might I suggest a low frequency molecular agitator?\"\n\n\"Don't have one of those,\" I replied.\n\nI threw a series of seven quick punches. The vat continued to ring. It quivered but didn't crack. I pressed my palm against it and detected surface irregularities. The thing was breaking, but it was taking its own sweet time.\n\nI launched a jackhammer series of blows with my left arm. Four strikes a second. Could've doubled the rate except punches from my damaged right arm wouldn't have accomplished anything. The vat's tone grew louder and louder, higher and higher, until it was beyond human hearing range and my ability to record. After twenty seconds, small cracks appeared on the surface.\n\n\"In its current state, the mutagen is highly corrosive,\" said Doctor Zarg. \"While your alloy is chemically neutral, I would still advice caution, as it will dissolve most any other inorganic material on contact.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the advice.\"\n\nI recorded the rapidly approaching thudding footfalls of the demolisher.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The pilot had gotten it upright and was approaching.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A drip of chemical was leaking from the cracks. I was almost through.\n\nAn audio analysis warned that the demolisher was less than twenty feet behind me and rapidly approaching. I didn't turn around. I threw five more punches, and the drip became a dribble. One more solid blow would do it. I pulled back my fist to unleash a haymaker.\n\nThe demolisher snagged me by the arm. It yanked me into the air and clamped the other pincer around my torso. I pushed my servos to the limit, and nothing happened. The demolisher's grip was beyond my ability to break. Maybe with both arms available and my systems undamaged, I'd have stood a calculable chance, but that was a purely hypothetical maybe.\n\nIt squeezed at my elbow joint and nearly sheared off my forearm. Though my chassis was indestructible, my joints weren't. It was rare for something to have the power to pull me apart. My diagnostics warned if I didn't do something fast, I'd lose that arm. But there was nothing I could do. Nothing logical.\n\n\"I'm going to enjoy taking you apart piece by piece, you stupid malfunctioning technomorph bastard,\" said Warner. He was the pilot. He had to be. He wouldn't allow anyone else the pleasure of scrapping me.\n\nA plan came to me. It didn't come from my logic lattice or battle analyzer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't know in which program it originated, and I didn't care. It was my only shot, so I took it.\n\n\"You can scrap me, if you want, Warner,\" I said. \"It doesn't change the fact that I almost made it. One defective robot almost ruined it all.\"\n\n\"You've ruined nothing. You've accomplished nothing.\"\n\nI tried to turn up the smugness rating in my vocalizer. \"I made a fool of your security forces. I got into this room, nearly broke the vat. I wouldn't want to be you when your bosses hear about this.\"\n\n\"Shut up.\" He increased the pincer pressure. A warning flashed on my tactile web. Wouldn't cut me in half, but eventually, it'd start crushing internals.\n\n\"Just look at Doctor Zarg over there,\" I pressed. \"Poor guy didn't screw things up nearly as bad as you, and now he's the world's smartest paperweight. Hate to see how a disagreeable asshole like yourself will end up.\"\n\n\"Shut up!\" The pressure creased a shallow dent across my torso. \"Why don't you shut up?\"\n\n\"All your work, and you'll end up pushing a mop by the time they're done with you. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.\"\n\nThe demolisher pivoted and hurled me into the floor. I bounced once, crashed into a bank of computers with a shower of sparks. I wasted no time on a diagnostic report as I quickly pushed my way to my feet.\n\nAll Warner had to do was hold onto me, but biologicals were emotional, illogical creatures. They didn't learn their lessons very quickly. Warner was smart enough to maneuver the demolisher between me and the mutagens. He didn't take a step, waiting for me to make the first move. If he got hold of me again, he wouldn't be so stupid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I barreled forward, and he took one step to meet the charge.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As expected, he hadn't taken into account all the factors, including the much higher ceilings in the lab. I waited until I was within six feet of it, until its pincers were poised to seize me once again. Then I boosted. I couldn't assume Lucia's belt still worked. It'd taken quite a few hits, and it was a prototype. I never had any doubts. Lucia hadn't let me down yet, and she didn't this time either.\n\nThe pincers closed around empty space as I soared over the demolisher. I landed on the other side and, with my servos cranked to the limit and every bit of momentum behind me, I drove my fist into the vat. I dodged to one side as unstable chemicals exploded from the pressurized container in a geyser. I wasn't fast enough, and my left arm was soaked. The cloth dissolved away. Spray sizzled on my coat, burning dozens of holes, some as large as two inches in diameter.\n\nThe demolisher caught most of the chemicals, and true to Doctor Zarg's word, the mutagen evaporated the chassis like ice under boiling water. The demolisher melted into smoldering sludge. In four seconds, the bulk of the demolisher was nothing but a puddle.\n\nThe pool of compound spread as more sprayed from the vat. I grabbed Doctor Zarg and moved him away from its edge.\n\nIn the center of the compound, covered in molten steel and dripping in mutagen, lay Warner. His skin was scarred and smoldering. He was gurgling and moaning at the same time. It was not a pleasant sound.\n\n\"The effects on biological entities should eventually prove fatal,\" said Doctor Zarg.\n\n\"Eventually,\" was the operative word.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "one hundred and twenty-four sentences sentences in A. Lee Martinez style, continuing user's bit. Note: May include established elements", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Security froze. Even the single-minded ravager autos were surprised.\n\nWarner raked a clawed hand across his oozing chest, and glanced down at the flesh in his hands. His face was little more than a scarred lump with two bleeding eyes and a mouth that had migrated six inches too far to the left.\n\n\"What did you do to me?\"\n\nHe lurched toward me. He hadn't adjusted to his new weight distribution. It was easy to step back, then clobber him between the eyes. It was like punching pudding. His head collapsed beneath the blow, and clumps of hair and slime splattered on my faceplate.\n\nHe seized me and lifted me in the air. I activated my gravity clamp to discourage him, but he didn't even notice. Though he was a gooey mound of shifting flesh, his overactive DNA had made him absurdly strong.\n\n\"What did you do to me!\" he screamed.\n\nI would've apologized if it would've made him happy.\n\nNone of the biologicals dared to make a move, but the ravagers tagged Warner as a threat. They jumped him. Silently, Warner threw me across the room to deal with this new threat. There was the harsh sound of tearing metal. By the time I got up and turned around, five seconds, he'd already crushed two of the autos. The third one he stuffed in the huge maw in the side of his face. He sheared off its cranial unit with one bite, then tossed it aside.\n\nWarner made a snorting sound and spit out the masticated bit of ravager. Yellow and black drool dripped from his jaws as he ran a speckled pink tongue across twisted fangs. He fell over, gasping for breath. His rate of dissolution exceeded his growth. He was slowly oozing to death.\n\n\"The strain on his biology is proving too much,\" said Zarg as calmly as if studying a dying microbe under a microscope. \"His cellular structure should break down soon.\"\n\nWarner fell to his knees. He raised his crushed face toward me and moaned. He couldn't have been aware of much now, only pain and chaos.\n\n\"Pity he will not much live much longer,\" said Doctor Zarg. \"It would be invaluable to study the effects. I must remember to collect a sample.\"\n\nI walked toward Warner.\n\n\"It is inadvisable to approach the subject in his current state,\" said Zarg.\n\nI ignored him. Zarg was a decent enough joe for a robot, but Warner was just another test subject to the technomorph. His suffering was an observable phenomenon to be recorded and studied. There was no compassion in Doctor Zarg's reasoning. Neither was there malice or resentment for all the trouble Warner had caused. Only a clinical, logical detachment.\n\nI, with all the mysterious workings of my faulty prototypical brain, thought Warner was an asshole. I didn't exactly feel sorry for him, but he'd suffered enough. More than enough. Warner raised his eyes toward me and whined. Maybe he couldn't ask it aloud. But he was dying and he just wanted to get it over with.\n\nI caved in his head with one blow, and his oozing corpse slumped to the floor. I turned to the lead security guard. He was either a Pilgrim or a mutant because he had red-and-blue-striped skin and three eyes. I seized him by the throat with my slime-coated hand. The acidic sludge burned his throat with a sizzle. I assumed it smelled bad, too.\n\n\"Now, are we going to have a problem here? Because I'm not in a very good mood anymore.\"\n\nHe motioned for the guards, and they all dropped their popguns.\n\nBehind me, ragged breaths registered in my audios while a shadow fell over me. I turned to scan a giant, melting, alien mutant behind me. Its eyes showed no sign of intelligence. I'd killed Warner, squashed his brain. But the thing must've grown a new one. Maybe even two or three. None of them seemed real happy at the moment.\n\nThe twelve-foot mutant thing grabbed the guard from my hand and batted me aside. Silently, except for its painful gasping, it stuffed the squirming guard down its throat. There was a lot of shrieking and crunching in the three seconds it took to swallow the guard whole. It had to chew a bit to deal with the wider portions. Four seconds later, stripes formed on its skin and a third eye opened on its forehead.\n\nWhile eating the first, it'd seized another guard which it immediately gobbled down. As it'd taken on qualities of its first meal, it now grew patches of scales. It wasn't simply eating them. It was somehow absorbing their DNA.\n\nThe remaining guards were already off and running. The four at the rear didn't make it seven steps before the mutant leapt upon them. It jammed them down its throat with ruthless speed and efficiency, not even stopping to pick the bits from its teeth from the last before starting with the other. With each meal, it grew bigger and absorbed more random characteristics.\n\nZarg said, \"Surprising. The aberration is apparently attempting to correct the accelerated metabolic rate and genetic instability by assimilating more organic tissue.\"\n\n\"Is this going to be a problem, Doctor?\" I asked.\n\n\"Unlikely,\" replied Zarg. \"While it might slow the process of decay, it will not stabilize the—\"\n\n\"How long until it dies?\" I asked.\n\n\"Seven minutes.\" He didn't approximate or estimate, and since Zarg was supposed to be a genius, I figured he was right.\n\nThe mutant finished the last of the four. It was fifteen feet tall now, and I estimated it must've weighed at least four or five tons. It was less gooey, having gained some stability from the DNA it'd absorbed. It'd also become a mix of seven different aliens, with a crab-like claw, scales, and tiny wings on its shoulders. It didn't seem to hold any particular characteristic long though, and shifted back and forth among the various qualities.\n\nIt turned its eyes toward me, and growled. It didn't really look at me. Its pain and rage had been overwhelmed by its tremendous appetite, and Zarg and I were mere lumps of steel.\n\nIts breath grew ragged again. Lesions broke out across its skin. With a bubbling rasp, the thing turned and loped from the lab in search of undamaged genes to refresh its own genetic decay. It didn't use the door but burned its way out by smearing its own corrosive shedding on the north wall.\n\nIf it escaped the facility and reached the surface, it could eat a lot of people in a few minutes. On the other hand, the mutant would certainly help to jam up the gears of Dissenter security, which I'd done a pretty good job of jamming myself already.\n\nHolt remained my priority. The aberration was a minor inconvenience in the larger scheme. It might eat a few people, but if the Dissenters escaped with Holt and started mixing up a new batch of mutagen, we'd be back at the beginning of this mess.\n\nI plotted the course on my map files. From here, it was a thousand, six hundred feet north to the panic room where automated security protocols would have removed Holt for safekeeping.\n\nThe aberration had gone north.\n\nCould've been a coincidence.\n\n\"Doctor, hypothetically, what would happen if that thing managed to assimilate Holt's DNA.\"\n\n\"Postulating.\" Must've been a doozy of a postulation because Zarg took a full nine seconds to run through the simulations. \"It is unlikely that anything can correct the genetic instability.\"\n\n\"How unlikely?\"\n\n\"The variables are too many to calculate precise odds.\"\n\n\"Take a wild guess.\"\n\n\"I do not guess.\"\n\nI grabbed him by his armless shoulders and lifted him up. \"Zarg, what are the odds that this thing is going after Holt?\"\n\n\"Unknown.\"\n\nI sighed. Had to know how to talk to a robot. Even one as intelligent as Zarg.\n\nI said, \"Assuming the aberration is smart enough or aware enough to go after Holt, and assuming that by assimilating his DNA it is able to stabilize its decay, how hard would that thing be to kill?\"\n\n\"With the assumptions given, it can be assumed that the aberration might be statistically impossible to destroy, short of an atomic explosion or other such cataclysm.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Doctor.\" I set him down. \"Was that so hard?\"\n\nI set the most direct course to the panic room, moved to the other side of the lab so I could build up some momentum, and went into battering ram mode. I thrust my damaged shoulder forward to absorb the trauma as I smashed through the wall without losing a step.\n\nI hypothesized that I was merely being paranoid, that the thing Warner had become was no longer Warner. Just a thing driven by hunger, rage, and agony. A mindless, unthinking beast fueled by instinct without intelligence or memory. It was only an assumption, and that looked less and less likely to be true as I noted that the creature was burning its way in the exact same direction with single-minded purpose. It was moving fast.\n\nHalfway to my destination, I finally caught up with it. It'd happened upon a room full of biologicals and was taking the opportunity to feed itself, and doing so with quiet efficiency. By now, it'd grown another mouth in its chest so that it could eat even faster.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Except for its raspy breathing, the thing never made a sound.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, For your next response only, include limited dialogue)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Its head moved in my direction, drawn by the movement. It was smart enough to know eating me would only give it a stomachache. It returned its attentions to three biologicals trapped in a corner. They blasted it with heatrays, which only seemed to be irritating it. I took advantage of the distraction to pull ahead.\n\nThe panic room was surprisingly easy to reach. It wasn't designed to be impregnable in itself, but to be in a well-defended position. The facility was in chaos now. Security was as well organized as an anthill being sprayed by a hose. I ran across few guards. They were either rushing in Warner's direction or, just as commonly, running the other way. I could take some small pride that the Dissenters' agenda had suffered a serious setback.\n\nI kicked in the doors. The room was small, barely big enough to hold a few monitoring devices and a table where Holt lay. Two medical drones tended him. Neither was designed for combat, and happily got out of my way as I approached. There was a sealed tube in the ceiling that led back to the chemical lab where they'd been filtering mutagens from him.\n\nHe scanned in bad shape. Doctor Zarg had been careful in the extraction process, doing as little harm as possible, but with Warner in charge, the boy's health was unimportant. He'd lost six to ten pounds, and his scales had lost their shine. There were noticeable scars forming where the tubes and wires had been connected to his flesh.\n\nI very carefully lifted him off the table. He was so fragile. I could've crushed him with one squeeze. This had been my objective. Eliminate Holt, remove the threat of anyone else getting the bright idea to use a little boy to endanger Empire. It would've been so easy. Nothing to it. Holt wouldn't even feel a thing, and this mess would be ended.\n\nThat was before. Now, there was a monster on its way here, to Holt, alive or not, to assimilate the kid's DNA. No, I had to get Holt out of here. Alive was as easy as dead.\n\nWhile the risk of an unstoppable mutant aberration put the whole city at risk, I was suddenly grateful for it. Now I wouldn't have to make a decision and find out what kind of bot I was. Could I kill someone, even an innocent boy, even if it was the most logical thing to do? If I couldn't, did it mean I had that elusive quality of humanity or was I just stupid? If I could, was I every bit the ruthless auto I was designed to be or was I doing what needed to be done? All good questions, but they wouldn't be answered today. And I hoped they never would have to be.\n\nHolt moaned and opened his eyes halfway. He spoke so weakly that it barely registered.\n\n\"Mack,\" he said. \"You found me. April said you would. She said I shouldn't be scared.\"\n\n\"Yeah, kid,\" I said. \"It'll be all right.\"\n\nHe smiled painfully, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Except sleep was too nice a word for it. He was unconscious, out cold. His breathing was shallow and irregular. I had to get him out of here, find a hospital, and keep him out of the belly of a monster for another five minutes.\n\nThe aberration screeched as it hurled itself against the panic room. It'd eaten enough by now that it was too big to fit through the doors. Instead, it pounded on the walls and tried reaching in with one of its arms. I kicked it in the knuckles so that it withdrew the limb, but the walls were dissolving under its acidic touch and buckling under its powerful blows. They wouldn't last more than a few seconds.\n\nI reached up and tore away the seal on the tube overhead. \"Hang on, Holt.\" I don't know why I said it. He couldn't hear me.\n\nI activated my booster and rocketed up the tube toward the lab. It was a long way up though, and the belt didn't have the juice for a single jump. So I dug my fingers into the side halfway up, and hung there, cradling Holt in my damaged arm, still functional enough for that, waiting for the booster to recharge.\n\nBelow, the aberration screamed and growled as it tore apart the panic room. It would figure out Holt wasn't there in a second and be after us. The thing had some sort of connection to Holt. I assumed it wouldn't remain confused long.\n\nThe booster was taking longer than usual to recharge. It was wearing out. I only needed it to hold out a little longer. Just one more time. That was all I asked.\n\nI switched on my radio. \"Humbolt, are you out there?\"\n\n\"Yeah, Mack,\" he replied.\n\n\"I need to talk to the cops.\"\n\n\"Good news,\" said Humbolt. \"We got cops all over the freakin' place out here.\"\n\n\"Detective Alfredo Sanchez,\" I said. \"Short, furry, looks like a rat. Find him.\"\n\n\"I'm on it.\"\n\nBelow, the aberration grew suddenly silent. Even its raspy breathing ceased. I didn't know if it was sniffing the air for Holt's scent or scanning telepathically, but I was sure it wouldn't take long to pick up the trail.\n\nIt raised its head upward, looked me right in the optical, and laughed. I swear it laughed. Played that sound back three times, and every time, it could only be a chuckle. A hungry, wicked chuckle.\n\nIt was too big to fit up the tube easily, but it was squishy enough that it could force itself upwards. Its dripping flesh dissolved the sides, making its climb easier with each inch.\n\n\"Come on, Lucia. Don't let me down.\"\n\nThe belt reactivated.\n\nI boosted the rest of the way as the aberration threatened to grab me by the foot. I didn't have quite enough power, and I barely made it to the edge. I snagged it with my free hand and pulled myself up without losing Holt in the process. There was no time to congratulate myself. Behind me, the aberration was shrieking. I'd bought a fifteen-or twenty-second head start. Maybe less.\n\nI was still sixteen stories below ground. I needed up fast. My memory file directed me to a nearby section of emergency levitator pods. Intended purely for evacuation situations, they worked one way: up. Which was fortunately the way I wanted to go. With some luck, they hadn't all been taken yet.\n\nOne was left, and there was a group of five Dissenters attempting to access it. They jumped at my sudden appearance and readied their weapons.\n\n\"We don't have time for this,\" I said.\n\nThe aberration roared, and it could be heard ripping in this direction.\n\nThey lowered their weapons, and the leader, a rodent-like woman, pressed a few keys on the security console.\n\n\"Invalid code,\" replied the console in a superior voice.\n\nHer shaking hand stabbed at the keys, and the console said, \"invalid code.\"\n\nBiologicals. Couldn't count on them when the pressure was on. Not most of them anyway. I dug into my coat pocket and plugged another of Lucia's gizmos into the console. It lit up.\n\nThe aberration appeared at the end of the corridor. How could something that oddly proportioned and lumbering move so fast? It rushed toward us.\n\n\"Oh, flurb,\" whispered one of the terrified lab techs.\n\nLucia's gizmo chimed happily as it defeated the security console. I shoved my way into the pod first and the rest jumped in behind me. I hit the activation button as a giant hand reached in and snatched out one of the biologicals. His screams were cut off by a sudden crunch. Then the doors closed, and the pod rocketed upward.\n\n\"What is that?\" asked the rodent scientist. \"What is that?\" As if there were really an answer to the question that would make everything better.\n\nI checked Holt. He remained unconscious, despite the bumpy ride and the monster out to devour him.\n\n\"Mack, got'cha that cop you wanted,\" radioed Humbolt. \"Patchin' him through now. Just speak into my faceplate, detective.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What the hell is going on here, Mack?\" asked Sanchez.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No time for questions,\" I said. \"Here's what I need you to do. I'm going to be coming out of the southern side of the building. Have a fast rotorcar standing by, ready for immediate takeoff. I've got a kid here who needs medical attention. More importantly, he's got to be kept away from the thing that's following me.\"\n\n\"Thing? What thing?\"\n\n\"Big dangerous thing,\" I replied. \"It'll be right behind me, and it'll be hungry. Evacuate every biological from the area. You've got thirty seconds.\"\n\n\"I can't do that, Mack. This is the Nucleus. It's a circus out here right now.\"\n\n\"Find a way,\" I said, \"or a lot of people are going to die twenty-seven seconds from now. Megaton out.\"\n\nIt was asking a lot, and if Sanchez wasted time arguing with me, it wouldn't get done. But he didn't reply, and I assumed he'd handle it.\n\nThe pod stopped at the ground floor, and the biologicals scattered in various directions. I ran out the southern exit. Sanchez and his men were still clearing the area. They hadn't even put a dent in the crowd. Tempting globs of flesh and DNA were all around. Even if the aberration didn't get hold of Holt, it could do a lot of damage in the three-and-a-half minutes it had left to live.\n\nSanchez was ready for me. He didn't give me a hard time, just led me through the crowd to the waiting rotorcar. I handed Holt off to a cop. The car shot off into the sky. I turned toward Carter Centre.\n\n\"You have to get these people out of here,\" I said to Sanchez.\n\n\"We're doing what we can, but I must've left my wormhole in my other pants,\" he replied. \"Now, what is this big thing that's after you?\"\n\nThe aberration burst its way through the glass doors. The thing that had been Warner was now a hulking brute of smoking flesh and malformed limbs, seventeen feet high. Its scrambled DNA could no longer make up its mind. Hairy tufts and scaly patches and hungry mouths appeared and disappeared on its random flesh. Its three eyes moved independently of each other, tracking the crowds.\n\n\"Goddamn,\" said Sanchez.\n\nThe monster beat its chest and roared. Its every movement flung globs of dissolving, corrosive flesh through the streets. It hesitated, confused by the buffet of scrambling morsels before it. A brave cop drew his raygun and tried to blast it. He only caught its attention. It seized him and swallowed him in two bites.\n\nThe rest of the cops started blasting the aberration. It was their job to try and stop it. But it was also a waste of time.\n\n\"How the hell do we stop something like that?\" asked Sanchez.\n\n\"We don't. Get everybody the hell away from it,\" I said. \"I'll keep it busy.\"\n\n\"Can you kill it?\" said Sanchez, but I was already on my way.\n\nI didn't need to kill it. I only had to keep it busy for two hundred seconds or so, assuming Zarg was right. I hoped he was as smart as he was supposed to be.\n\nIn the four seconds it took me reach it, the aberration devoured three more cops and two unlucky civilians. And it didn't appear like it was getting full yet.\n\nI threw myself into it, lifted it off its feet, and tried to push it back into Carter Centre, away from the street. It didn't quite work out. The way it shed its skin made a solid grip impossible. I only managed twelve feet before it regained its footing and started pushing back.\n\nThe thing was stronger than me, and it had the weight advantage. I tried the gravity clamp, but the belt was burnt out. The aberration shrugged me off, tossing me aside. I slid across the pavement and collided with a parked buzzbug. The aberration turned its back to me, dismissing me as an inedible nuisance.\n\nI dug the fingers of my functional arm into the buzzbug's hood, performed a quick trajectory calculation projection, and hurled it at the monster. It sailed in a perfect arc to collide with the back of the thing's head. The mutant stumbled and glanced with annoyance in my direction.\n\nAnnoyance. Exactly what I needed.\n\nI threw a treader, then immediately followed it with another buzzbug. Each clobbered the aberration on its dissolving skull, and while they didn't seem to be doing any real injury, they were pissing it off. A pissed-off monster was a distracted monster.\n\nI was about to hurl a gyroped when the aberration whirled suddenly. Two antennae had sprouted from its forehead as it spontaneously mutated. They crackled with blue energy and unleashed a stream of focused radiation. The gyroped, steel, glass, and all, disintegrated into powder. My indestructible clothing, too. My alloy held up, but my radiation screens were ineffective. A short list of internal failures sprang up in my diagnostics file, and thirty or forty seconds of exposure could've fried vital circuits.\n\nThe creature wasn't smart enough to realize that so when I didn't disappear in a poof, it cut off the blast. It dropped to all fours and charged. My reflex model had been damaged, and it was on top of me before I could react. It swatted at me with one huge paw. I catapulted high into the air and bounced into a small crowd of civilians. It was a miraculous anomaly I didn't land on any of them, but not exactly good luck since the thing was plenty pissed at me and now moving this way.\n\nA blaster blindsided the beast and blew off a chunk of its shoulder. The aberration growled curiously, more perplexed than hurt. Its eyes scanned the crowd and found Sanchez standing atop a rotorcar. The little guy was gutsy. I'd give him that. And he was about to be dead.\n\n\"Come on!\" he shouted. \"I'm here! Over here!\" He blasted a few holes in the aberration's chest.\n\nThe thing's antennae started crackling again. There wouldn't even be enough left of Sanchez to fill a teacup.\n\nAnother blast caught it by surprise as Jung fired at it from behind. A dozen cops joined in and a barrage of rayfire punched holes through the aberration's flesh. It spasmed and growled. It didn't die. The antennae on its head glowed brighter, and I detected rapidly rising levels of an unidentified radiation in the air. It wasn't dangerous yet, but it was building fast toward a full-scale disaster.\n\nMy reflex model finally kicked in. I dashed forward low to the ground, and knocked its legs out from under it. The aberration tumbled over. I didn't allow it time to recover. I jumped on top of it, grabbed its antennae, and yanked them off. They fizzled, but not before a dangerous burst traveled up my arms, ignoring my radiation screens. Circuits shorted out. Hydraulics locked up. My vocalizer started screeching. My one arm kept working though, and I set it on automatic and kept hammering away.\n\nI concentrated on its lumpish head, trying to keep it disoriented, confused, and on the ground. It seemed to do the trick. I pounded its face flat. Two of its three eyes popped out of its head, and slime coated my arms and front.\n\nTwenty seconds later, the aberration snapped out of its confusion, and rolled to one side. With my legs locked, I fell over on my back. The thing stood, gave me a kick, and roared.\n\nThe aberration slumped with a groan. Its skin slid away in smoking chunks. It raised its right arm, and the limb fell off. It lurched to one side, then the other, and collapsed with a gurgle. My chronometer was broken, but Zarg's seven-minute deadline must've finally been up.\n\nMy hydraulics came back on-line enough that I could stand.\n\nThe aberration was a mound of featureless meat. Twisted bones stuck out of its dissolving flesh, but even the bones began to dissolve into the same sizzling green pool of sludge. It kept breathing for a long time. Shallow, painful breaths, even when it was nothing more than a pool of slime, it kept breathing for... well... I couldn't say how long now, but it seemed a long, long time.\n\nThen with one final gurgle, it stopped.\n\nSanchez was beside me. He held his rifle at the ready. \"Damn, Mack, is it dead?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "My only reply was the steady hiss of static, the only sound my vocalizer seemed capable of right now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My diagnostic programs reported one failing system. It was my diagnostics, which meant everything else was up in the air. I didn't know how badly damaged I was, but my opticals scanned the world as flat and gray. I fell over and didn't even realize it until I noticed Sanchez standing at a vertical angle.\n\nHe said something. I heard the sound, recognized his voice, but couldn't decipher the noise into words.\n\n\"Zzzzzzzzt,\" I replied.\n\nAnd then I shut down.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep going w/ 21 sentences more. Note: Might reference existing chars", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I reactivated twenty-three days later. The information verified that my chronometer was working. And hopefully, so was everything else.\n\nOne by one, the systems and programs confirmed themselves. My visualizer came on-line, and I scanned a young blond woman standing before me.\n\nShe smiled. \"Hey, handsome, how are you feeling?\"\n\n\"Status report: functional.\"\n\n\"Aren't you the sweet talker?\"\n\nI was upright, clean and polished, wearing a new suit. A glance around confirmed I was in an unfamiliar laboratory. \"Where am I?\"\n\n\"My personal lab,\" she replied. \"The one under my apartment. Don't remember, huh?\"\n\n\"Negative,\" I said. There was still a bit of static in my audios.\n\n\"Do you remember me?\" she asked.\n\n\"I remember you. Just not your name.\"\n\n\"Not surprised. Your internals took a hell of a hit. The hardware, I could fix, and Doctor Mujahid recoded the basic coordination programs. Your memory matrix took the worst of it, but she was able to recover most of the data files. There are a few bits and pieces missing here and there.\"\n\n\"What kinds of bits and pieces?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing too important. You'll have to learn a few things over again, but shouldn't take you long. By the way, you can call me Lucia. Or Ms. Napier, if you'd prefer.\"\n\n\"I think I'd prefer Lucia,\" I said.\n\nShe nodded. \"I'd prefer that, too.\"\n\n\"You're out of jail.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No reason to hold me anymore. Charges were dropped. The whole messy affair has been swept under the rug. Like it never happened.\" Lucia pushed a stepladder over to me and climbed it to adjust my tie. \"Do me a favor and raise your right hand, Mack.\"\n\nI did.\n\n\"That's your left.\"\n\n\"Whups.\" I inverted the directional definitions and tried again. Got it correct that time.\n\n\"Take a step back,\" she said.\n\nI moved and knocked her off her stool. She was ready for it and hopped safely aside. \"No, that's forward.\"\n\nI corrected that, too.\n\n\"Maybe he's not ready for this, boss?\" said a talking metal post. A butler auto, my distinguishing software realized. Name recognition failed me again.\n\n\"Nonsense, Humbolt.\" (I filed that away.) \"He's got to get out there sometime. Anyway, the doctor assured me that beginning everyday functioning would get him back in tip-top shape in a week or two.\"\n\n\"Step back.\" I performed a series of test maneuvers, checking wiring relays and servo response. My basic mechanical functions were up and running. Any program glitches would have to be worked out as they arose. \"I'm good.\"\n\nLucia instructed Humbolt to tell the guests that we'd be up shortly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I wondered who was waiting for us and if I'd remember them all.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What about the Bleakers?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I asked. \"Julie? April? Holt?\"\n\n\"Them, you remember.\" She arched an eyebrow. \"You could give a girl a complex, y'know.\"\n\n\"Lucia...\"\n\n\"Oh, they're fine. Holt was a little malnourished, but otherwise, unharmed.\"\n\n\"And the Pilgrims?\" I asked, realizing that one of the things I'd lost was Grey's annoying little worm that kept me from discussing certain subjects.\n\nAlfredo Sanchez descended the staircase. \"We try not to talk about them, Mack. Hush-hush.\" He wore black slacks, wingtips, and a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees. It was the first time I'd seen him outside of a suit. The first my damaged memory matrix could recall, anyway.\n\n\"How's he doing?\" he asked Lucia.\n\n\"He'll be good as new in no time. I'll let you boys settle a few things. Come upstairs when you're ready.\" She pushed the stepladder over again and used it to get high enough to plant a kiss on my faceplate. \"But don't keep us waiting too long. By the way, Detective, no smoking in my lab.\"\n\nShe sashayed up the stairs, looking over her shoulder and winking before exiting.\n\n\"Looks, personality, brains, money.\" Sanchez whistled as he returned a cigarette to its case. \"How'd you end up with a girl like that?\"\n\nI almost said she wasn't my girl, but then again, maybe she was. If so, I was a lucky bot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Or at least, I assumed I was.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(authors note, Use the word 'still' 3 time(s) - this is a strict requirement)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you know, Sanchez? About the Pilgrims?\"\n\n\"Not quite. I mean, I had ideas about it. Knew something was going on, that there was someone pulling strings in Empire other than the Big Brains and Learned Council. Hard to do my job and not notice that. But I still don't know all the details. Need to know, loose lips. You know the drill.\n\n\"Okay, Mack,\" he said. \"We've got a few details to go through here. I'll be brief. That mess in the Nucleus changed a few things while you were off-line. Forced the Pilgrims to come out. Still keeping them secret from the general public, but now they've opened discussions with the Learned Council. Put everything on the up and up. Hopefully, it'll help avoid trouble from overeager aliens in the future.\"\n\nI considered the change. The Pilgrims, once content to manipulate Empire City from the shadows, had taken their first steps out of the dark. They were still hiding, and maybe I couldn't blame them for it. Empire might be ready for the aliens walking its streets, but if it wasn't, then showing themselves would be a disaster. Better to play it safe, I supposed.\n\n\"Good news is that the Pilgrims have agreed to allow us to create a counteragent to the mutagen. Sort of a good faith gesture. We're doing it slowly, so it's not traumatic to Holt, but soon the Big Brains will have enough to neutralize any threat, should the need arise.\"\n\n\"What about Carter Centre, the Dissenter lab, the giant pudding mutant that nearly ate half the Nucleus?\"\n\n\"Just another industrial accident,\" said Sanchez. \"Happens every day.\"\n\nI wondered if people wanted to know the truth. If it even mattered. Probably not.\n\n\"Got a couple of things for you here.\" He dug in his pockets, removed a piece of paper and a data tube.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The Learned Council can't officially acknowledge your service to the city, but as a token of gratitude they wanted to give you this.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He unfolded the paper. \"Your certificate of citizenship. Welcome to the club.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" I scanned it. It was only a piece of paper, but I guess I'd earned it. Maybe I'd get it framed.\n\nHe held up the data tube. \"This was prepared by the Pilgrims. Say it's for your opticals only. Tells you where you came from. Turns out Professor Megalith isn't really that bright. Only a Pilgrim science tech who can pass for human. Stole a few designs and parts here and there, tried to use them for his own ends.\" He set it on the table. \"Don't know much more than that, but the details are all in there.\"\n\nSanchez removed a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth without lighting it. \"Well, guess that about covers everything. Any questions?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Why am I functional? Seems like some could consider me a security risk, what with what I've recorded.\"\n\n\"Don't ask me, Mack. Like I said, need to know. Nobody's enlightened me on that. Maybe it's because you did good. World doesn't always give good guys the shaft.\"\n\n\"Not always,\" I said. \"But usually.\"\n\n\"I can see your cynicism index wasn't wiped clean. So you ready for your party?\"\n\nI took a second to drop the data tube in my coat pocket. \"Yeah, I'm ready.\"\n\nThe party was a small affair, eight biologicals and Humbolt. I didn't have all the names and half the names I did have were attached to the wrong faces, but it all got sorted out eventually. There was cake and punch for the biologicals, and everyone was eager to say hello. There was a lot of small talk and hugs and handshakes. Mostly, I kept quiet and let everyone tell me how much they'd missed me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Somehow, I'd made friends.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hadn't planned on it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just sort of happened. I guess that's how making friends worked.\n\nEven Doctor Mujahid showed up. She and Jung hit it off right away. They sat on Lucia's couch, talking and laughing. I'd never heard the doc laugh before, but Jung could be one charming gorilla.\n\nSanchez introduced me to his wife. I hadn't even known he was married. She was a norm, and a tall one at that, six feet in heels. Sanchez barely came up to her waist.\n\n\"Alfie says such wonderful things about you,\" she said.\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" she replied. \"Says you're a stand-up guy. Make a hell of a cop.\"\n\n\"Actually, what I said was that he was a stand-up guy, but a pain in the ass. And he'd make a good cop if he wasn't such an exhaust port.\" Sanchez snorted. \"Come on, Rosa. Let's get some punch.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Oh, he's so easily embarrassed. If you'll excuse us, Mack.\"\n\n\"No problem. Talk to you later, Alfie.\"\n\nSanchez grumbled, dragging his wife away.\n\nSomebody tugged on my pants.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I turned to scan April.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hey, kid. How you doing?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She tried to smile but wiped a tear away.\n\nI knelt down. \"What's wrong?\"\n\nShe hugged me. \"I killed my daddy,\" she said quietly, choking on the words.\n\n\"It wasn't your fault.\"\n\n\"But I knew they'd kill him. I knew it when they took us away. But I let them take us away because I knew I had to. I had to.\"\n\nShe sniffled. She wasn't quite crying, but she was close. She hugged me tighter.\n\n\"I knew that everybody would die. And I knew you had to stop it. And the only way to get you to stop it was to let them take us. To let them kill my daddy.\"\n\n\"There, there, kid.\" I rubbed her back gently. \"You did what you had to.\"\n\nHollow words, I knew. Especially to a little girl burdened with the power to see the future. I got it now. That was why she hadn't asked for my help. Why she'd slipped me a note she'd known I wouldn't scan right away. She'd seen the future, a future where Empire burned in its own technotopic madness, and known no one would believe her. Not her mother or the cops or me. She'd set it up, as best she could, so that I'd end up in the middle of an alien conspiracy. She'd done so knowing it would get her father killed.\n\nThat was a tough choice for a little girl to make, but she'd made it. Now she had to figure out how to live with it, and that was even tougher.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[OOC: For the upcoming response only: include frequent quoted content]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What happened to Gavin... your father, it shouldn't have happened. But it's not your fault. You didn't hurt him. Some very bad people did.\"\n\n\"But my daddy...\" She pulled away and wiped her snotty upper lip with her sleeve. \"I knew—\"\n\n\"Shhhh. Come on.\" I picked her up and walked over to the balcony. \"See that city? See all those lights. Every one of those lights is a person, somebody you helped. Can you count them all?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"That's a lot of people, isn't it?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"A lot of families. A lot of fathers, I bet.\"\n\n\"Umm hmmm.\"\n\n\"And your brother. What about him? You helped him, too, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And your mom. And me. You helped me, too.\"\n\n\"I did?\" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. \"How?\"\n\n\"You showed me that I can help people, too.\"\n\nShe smiled, very slightly.\n\n\"You did the right thing, kid. It's not always easy to do the right thing. In fact, it hardly ever is. Most grown-ups can't make themselves do it when it comes right down to it. Your father would be proud of you for being such a big girl.\"\n\nI scanned Lucia at the balcony entrance. She was smiling, too, and her eyes were teary.\n\nI wanted to wipe the tear from April's cheek but wasn't confident enough in my fine motor control to try it yet.\n\n\"Do you really think my daddy would be proud of me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, kid. I know he would be. Because your mom and your brother and me, we're all so proud of you. Lucia, too.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's right, sweetie.\" Lucia came over and took April from me.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She gave April a tight hug. The kind of hug I wished I could give her without risking crushing her. Then set her down and hugged her again. \"Now why don't you get yourself a piece of cake?\"\n\nApril wrapped one of her tiny hands around my thumb. \"Mack, I love you.\"\n\n\"I love you, too, kid.\"\n\nShe glanced to Lucia. \"Are you Mack's girlfriend? You're pretty.\"\n\n\"Smart, too,\" I said.\n\nLucia leaned over and gave April a pat on the bottom. \"Scoot, kiddo.\"\n\nApril went off to join her mom and brother in the apartment. She still hadn't gotten back the bounce in her step or the light in her eyes. But she was young, and kids were resilient. She wrapped Holt in an embrace. He hugged her back.\n\nJulie looked across the apartment, and she was crying a bit, too. Seemed to be a lot of that going around tonight. She mouthed the words, \"Thank you.\" I nodded to her.\n\n\"You've got a way with children, Mack,\" said Lucia.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yeah. I'd make a wonderful nanny auto.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Incorporate 'laughed' into your response exactly 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lucia leaned on the balcony railing. I stood beside her. We enjoyed the view for twenty-five seconds.\n\n\"So are you my girlfriend?\" I asked.\n\n\"I don't know. Am I?\"\n\nShe laughed but didn't fill me in.\n\nI pulled the data tube from my pocket. The one with all the answers. They weren't questions I cared about. Never really had been. I crushed the tube with one squeeze, and let the flecks of circuitry and plastic float away on the wind.\n\n\"What was that?\" she asked.\n\n\"Nothing important.\"\n\n\"So, Mack, you've saved the day, become a citizen.\" She put her delicate hand in my oversized palm. \"What's next?\"\n\n\"I'm thinking of opening a detective agency. Even got a partner lined up.\" I glanced at Jung, still in rapt conversation with my shrink. I hoped he wasn't telling her any stories.\n\n\"I've got an old office you can use,\" she said.\n\n\"Terrific. You'll have to show it to me sometime.\"\n\nShe laughed again, and I got the impression there was a joke I wasn't getting.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Seriously, Lucia. I don't know if it's something I should remember. Are you my girlfriend?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She didn't answer, and I decided it didn't really matter. I'd sort it out sooner or later on my own.\n\nLucia moved closer and put her arm around me. Together, we watched the twinkling lights of the hazy, gray city.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Team writing exercise. I start (might include existing characters), you do 9 sentences in A. M. Dellamonica style.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "(In the next section: Frequency requirement: 'raised' - 2 occurrence(s))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kitesharp was bleeding.\n\nThe wounded ship was fifty feet long, with a crew of fourteen sailor-mechanics, and when dawn rose over the Fleet of Nations, her blood trail was just a thin line of crimson threaded into her wake. It twisted against the blue of the sea, a hint of pinkish foam that might have gone unnoticed for hours if it hadn't begun attracting seabirds and sharks.\n\nThe whole Fleet watched as the birds shrieked and Kitesharp's captain raised a warning cone up her mainmast. Soon—presumably after her bosun had been below for a look—a sphere was raised, too. From a distance, both cone and sphere would appear as flat shapes, seeming to onlookers to be a triangle and circle. It meant Ship in distress. Help required.\n\nThis particular distress call had gone out twice before.\n\nBy midmorning the blood trail was a foot wide and the ship had taken on enough water to raise her bow well above the surface.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The greatest of the Fleet rescue vessels, Shepherd, was ready.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her crew brought her alongside the craft as traffic flowed past. Working with military precision, Shepherd's crew lowered a walking bridge to Kitesharp's deck and boarded personnel: twenty workers, first, to help the crew load the doomed ship's tools and fixtures, to strip whatever they could. Yards of hang glider silk were waiting to be off-loaded, along with the flexible boards that made up the skeletons of the gliders' wings. There were bright streamers that carved the kites' paths through the sky, above the sails of the Fleet, and pots upon pots of dyes, glues, and needles. Everything that wasn't bolted down, including the sailors' personal trunks, was already packed.\n\nShepherd also brought soldiers, fit young adults bearing stonewood swords and a grim sense of purpose. They would search the boat from main deck to bilge, looking for intruders. They brought a spellscribe, who was tasked with seeking anything that might tell them about the intention—a curse, some whispered—that had been worked upon the vessel.\n\nFor this third sinking, they also brought Sophie Hansa.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Raised in San Francisco and trained as a biologist, Sophie had been working as a marine videographer until she fell into... Well, she was essentially applying twenty-first-century science to puzzles the locals couldn't work out, here on Stormwrack.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had come in search of her birth parents, following them to a society that lived largely at sea, on a world whose existence had been concealed from Earth.\n\nSince then, she'd done everything from hunting for a newfound aunt's murderers to determining international ownership rights over a species of migrating turtles.\n\nThe locals were strangely hampered by a cultural taboo against curiosity. Sophie had realized that her best chance of being allowed to stay was by channeling her natural desire to ask questions in ways that earned her political goodwill.\n\nLately she had been mining the judiciary's warm case files, seeking out little mysteries that might be cleared up with a bit of fact-finding or a basic application of science.\n\nBut now someone was sinking small civilian ships that followed Stormwrack's Fleet, the great oceangoing capital city that circled the world, keeping the peace and policing piracy. Knowing the sinkings were caused by magicians wasn't helping the authorities. So, here was Sophie, in her wetsuit, with her tanks and camera and a solar-charged LED lamp, about to take an exploratory plunge through a sinking ship.\n\n\"What will you need from us?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "asked the head of the Shepherd rescue crew, a twentysomething woman, Southeast Asian in appearance (although that meant little here, on this world of tiny island nations), named Xianlu.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn: write with a touch of dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was all business. \"Kir Zophie?\"\n\nRight. Concentrate. \"Ship's already taking water—do you know where it's coming from?\"\n\n\"The aft hold.\"\n\n\"I'll start there, before it gets any deeper.\"\n\nThe officer summoned one of her crew, a broad-shouldered guy with the build of a high school quarterback, clad in a tight-fitting uniform designed for swimming. He looked familiar; after a moment, Sophie realized she had seen him at a disastrous Fleet graduation ceremony she'd attended after she had first arrived here, in the spring, eight months ago.\n\n\"Escort Kir Zophie below.\"\n\nHe bobbed his head in assent and gestured for Sophie to follow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Get the sails down, move and double,\" Xianlu ordered, turning her attention to the crews waiting at the ropes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kitesharp had a high, snub profile in the water that reminded Sophie of a modern towboat, despite her sails and rigs.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her bow was tilting up as she continued to take water in the stern.\n\n\"What's your name?\" Sophie asked the boy as they worked their way past a work crew busily sealing the tins of hang glider dye.\n\n\"Tenner Vale, Kir.\"\n\n\"Tenner\" was a ranking for cadets. It meant he had a full ten years left on his term of service. \"Graduation was a while ago, wasn't it?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"In four months, after my exams, I'll be a niner. Xianlu is a septer.\"\n\n\"Do you stay a tenner if you fail the tests?\"\n\nHe did a double take, probably thinking, How can you not know that?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then, having apparently decided she wasn't joking, he said, \"A decade is a decade. Niners who've failed their exams are given posts with less responsibility.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "/* [System: Use 'sophie' 2 times in response] */", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Drop and stow, one, two!\" The crew lowered the mainsail. The canvas and rigging loosened and fell to the deck with a sound like a hundred drumbeats. The ship had already been given up for lost. Kitesharp, but for the ropes that bound her to Shepherd, was now at the mercy of the waves.\n\n\"Like a wounded animal,\" Sophie murmured.\n\nVale looked frustrated, almost ashamed. \"We would fight to save her, if we understood how she's being sunk.\"\n\nThey had to be desperate to turn to me, Sophie thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Stormwrackers were ambivalent about science.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "user note just fyi, Word usage requirement: 'shiny' must appear 2 times", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Much of it they labeled atomism and dismissed as unreliable, even dangerous. People preferred to believe in a patchwork of disciplines with as much merit as astrology or dowsing.\n\nWrackers could navigate ships by the stars. They built and used barometers. But they also thought that observing the flame from a yellow candle would tell them the emotional state of a prevailing wind, and that aspirin worked by \"encouraging the spirit to bend like a willow around its hurts.\"\n\nSophie was getting away with working for the courts by rebranding her skills. What she was bringing to the table wasn't atomism at all—that was the story. It was a shiny new discipline dubbed \"forensic.\"\n\nSame old wheel, shiny new rim.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Vale opened a hatch, revealing a ladder.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, Sophie stepped into the hold. The tilt of the ship was more obvious here; she crab-stepped her way down the inclined deck and opened another hatch, peering into a flooded chamber.\n\n\"Thanks.\" She put on her flippers and descended alone. The hold was half full of waist-high salt water. She took a careful stance on the deck, set her light, and began filming, taking a shot of the whole room first, just in case. She captured everything visible above the waterline.\n\n\"It is water,\" she noted.\n\nThat look again: of course it's water. \"Your pardon, Kir?\"\n\n\"The ship's gushing blood, but filling with salt water. There's no blood here, so where's it coming from?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He gave the half shrug, a bob of shoulders that was the unofficial Wracker ward against curiosity.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Having filmed it, she took time to look with the naked eye. \"You know if anyone has schematics for the ship? Plans?\"\n\n\"I believe so, Kir.\"\n\n\"To work out how fast the water's coming in, we'll need an accurate measurement of cabin volume.\"\n\n\"A sailing master can do the calculations, if it's important.\"\n\nShe didn't bother to say that, with the right measurements, she could do it herself. \"While I'm down there, I want you to record how long it takes the water level to rise from here...\" She put her hand on one of the ladder rungs. \"To this one. Do you understand?\"\n\nHe made a gesture, indicating rising water.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sink rate per ten count?\"\n\n\"Exactly. Do you have something that counts seconds for you?\"\n\nVale nodded. \"And a measuring rope, Kir.\"\n\n\"Good. As accurate as you can, please.\" She set her watch to record the diving time.\n\n\"Understood, Kir.\"\n\nSomething in his tone made her think of Captain Parrish; she felt a pang of something that was equal parts longing, loneliness, and frustration.\n\nForget Garland. It's time to focus on the not-so-smart dive of the day. Still with a hand on the ladder, she checked her camera's waterproof housing, put on her mask and rebreather, took a few breaths, and then bent her knees to bring her face below the level of the rising water.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "((ooc: 🎯 Target word: 'light' | Required occurrences: 2))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shining the light around the narrow space, she looked for floating debris or loose rope—anything that might knock or entangle her. But the crew had worked upward from the compromised stern when they began emptying out their ship; the space was empty. Sophie half swam, half crawled to the low point, camera and light at the ready.\n\nShe hoped to find a gaping hole in the hull, of course, something to account for whatever was hemorrhaging into the seas behind the ship. But at first glance, there was nothing. No hole, no bubbles, certainly no blood.\n\nNothing to patch. If she could be patched, she could be saved.\n\nThe answering thought came in her brother's voice: If it had been easy, they wouldn't have asked you to help, Ducks.\n\nTaking out a bulb filled with blue-black squid ink, she squeezed out a drop, then another, working her way along the floor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The first two drops swirled lazily.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The third moved and dispersed, propelled by a current coming up from the boards.\n\nShe put out a hand, discovered the pressure of inrushing water, and worked her way toward it, seeking its source by touch.\n\nHere, on the hull. She pushed in close. On the wood there was a waxy mark, dark red on the oak boards, barely visible.\n\nIt was the outline of a hand.\n\nShe held her position, working the light and camera together to get a decent shot of the outline. It was biggish, with a stubby, truncated pinkie.\n\nThe red looks waxy, like crayon, she thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Releasing her camera—it was tethered—she dug into her tool kit again, selecting a steel scalpel she'd imported from home.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Working carefully, she tried to scratch some of the waxy stuff into a test tube. It didn't want to come.\n\nShe tried again, pushing harder. If she could pry up a splinter of the wood...\n\nSoftness, like flesh.\n\nThe blade broke a chip of the wax-marked wood loose, but the force of Sophie's hand drove it inside the outline of the hand. Instead of glancing off of more wood, it dug into something with the give of meat.\n\nAll at once, the outline came to life, fingers flexing blindly to grab at the scalpel. As it did, the hull gaped and cracked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A surge of cold water pushed inward. The back of the hand, the part that had been outside the ship, was covered in shreds of bloody tissue.\n\nLike Cousin It from the Addams family. No, It's the one with all the hair. Like Thing, just a hand—eww, hand—but grab that splinter...\n\nSophie caught the chunk of wood with its wax smear, tucking it into her sample tube. Kicking, she put some space between herself and the hand. She reeled her camera back, aimed the light, and started recording video.\n\nThe incoming water had more force now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She could feel it gushing past, the sensation reminiscent of water jets in a hot tub.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the hand curled in, leaving a deep, five-fingered hole in the hull, Sophie's diving light picked up barnacles, streamers of seaweed, and gory, spongy-looking masses on the back of the hand, the side that had been in the water.\n\nSophie snagged a hunk of red tissue, too, clipping it into another specimen flask without taking her eyes off the hand.\n\nThe outline on the boards was growing now, the drawn edges of the wrist extending as if someone was there, drawing in both lines with crayon. The hand grew a wrist, then a forearm. It bent at the elbow, and the boards of the hull reshaped themselves into an arm. It lashed about as it groped at the inside of the ship.\n\nSophie swam farther back. The thing, as it detached itself, was ripping ever-greater holes into the bottom of Kitesharp.\n\nWhat happens when it grows a head?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It'd be dumb to wait around and find out, wouldn't it?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She kicked back to the ladder. The tenner, Vale, was timing seconds and measuring water rise.\n\n\"Anything, Kir?\"\n\nShe spat out her rebreather. \"Found a monster! Up, up!\"\n\nA shudder ran through the ship, accompanied by a sound of splintering wood so loud it drowned out Vale's reply. He offered Sophie his hand.\n\nThe incline of the deck grew more steep by the minute as they charged to the nearest ladder out of the hold.\n\n\"You first, Kir.\" The kid drew a shortsword.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie fought an impulse to argue.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What was she going to do, fight a monster in her diving rig?\n\nAnother splinter. The deck below them cracked, splitting up the middle. The ship listed sharply to starboard.\n\n\"Teeth!\" Vale cursed. \"Ship's cross-cut!\"\n\nThey scrambled out onto the deck.\n\nThe blood slick around Kitesharp had become a dense red puddle, a crimson smear broken by tissue and bits of debris. Shark fins stirred in the murk. A boarding plank, extended from Shepherd, was stretched across the gap between the two ships. A half-dozen of Xianlu's crew stood ready, waiting for Sophie and her escort.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The ship began to buck, as if something big had taken hold and was shaking it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There!\" Sophie pointed, as the wooden hands rose to the main deck, one after another, the leading edge of a wooden body covered in gore and seaslime, pushing up through the hatch as if it were forcing itself through a birth canal.\n\n\"Wood fright!\" someone shouted.\n\n\"This far asea? How did it seed?\"\n\nThe deck heaved. The hatch broke in zigzag fissures. As the hands came down onto the deck they seemed to stick—roots grew from the wooden palms into the planks, and the fright had to rip them out, causing more damage.\n\nIt did not breathe. A person would have been panting with effort, but this, whatever it was, had the eerie stillness of a store mannequin.\n\nSophie trained her camera on it as it raised its head.\n\nAre its eyes covered in moss?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The thing began to stride across the crumbling deck of Kitesharp, ripping holes in the boards as its feet fell and rooted, rose and tore loose.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It made straight for Shepherd.\n\nSophie could feel the bridge underfoot moving as they pulled away. Vale and Xianlu were guiding her so she could keep filming and still move backwards in her flippers. Unless the thing could jump a hell of a long way—Why couldn't it? —there was no chance it'd catch them.\n\n\"Someone called this a wood sprite?\" Xianlu asked.\n\n\"Wood fright, Septer,\" someone else corrected. \"Used on Mossma, before the ban, to guard forests. And for murders, sometimes.\"\n\n\"Frightmaking's illegal,\" Vale said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I said before the ban.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] Somewhere in your response, you need to say: \"If so, it sank with them,\" [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was anything like this aboard the other ships?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"If so, it sank with them,\" Xianlu said.\n\n\"I think I woke this guy before he was fully baked,\" Sophie said.\n\nIt was a guy; the body was unmistakably male, and on the slender side. He had a limp.\n\nA limp and... a foreshortened pinky? She zoomed in on its hands.\n\nThe thing began to run toward them.\n\n\"Gunner battery one! Fire!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Stormwrack didn't have cannons.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They used magically transformed specialists instead. Three sailors stepped up and hurled flaming spheres at the wood fright.\n\nIt pulled up short, throwing both arms up to defend its head—giving Sophie a good shot of all ten fingers—and then disappeared in a burst of fire, leaving an appalling stench of scorched meat and campfire behind.\n\nAs the smoke from the cannons dispersed, the remains of the sailing mechanics' shop, Kitesharp, fell to pieces and vanished beneath the waves.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "The user will write a segment from a longer work then you need to write around ninety sentences continuing directly from it. Try to mimic the style of A. M. Dellamonica in the fantasy, pirates genre. Note that characters may appear without introduction.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DEAR BRAM:\n\nSO I'M SITTING ON CONSTITUTION, WAITING ON THE BOSS LADY TO GET AROUND TO SEEING ME AND HOPING TO CONVINCE HER TO GO FORWARD WITH OUR FINGERPRINT PROJECT. SHE MIGHT ACQUAINT ME WITH SOME DIVERS, SO THAT I CAN FIND A PARTNER. THEY'D BE MERMAIDS—HOW COOL IS THAT?\n\nI HAVEN'T FOUND ANYTHING TO CONCLUSIVELY INDICATE WHETHER STORMWRACK IS SOME RADICALLY ALTERED FAR FUTURE OF OURS OR A PARALLEL DIMENSION. I'M STILL HOPING WE CAN SEND ARCHAEOLOGISTS TO A SITE ON LAND WHERE SOMETHING FAMOUS HAS BEEN FOUND AT HOME. THERE'S AN ISLAND NEAR THE LATITUDE/LONGITUDE OF THE VALLEY OF THE KINGS. WE COULD TRY TO TALK SOMEONE INTO SEARCHING FOR KING TUT'S TOMB. IF ALL THAT STUFF LORD CARNARVON AND HOWARD CARTER DUG UP IN 1922 WAS WAITING, UNDERGROUND—THAT WOULD DEFINITELY PROVE WE'RE IN A PARALLEL WORLD, RIGHT?\n\nIT WOULD BE TRICKY—WHAT ISN'T TRICKY HERE? WE'D NEED SOMEONE WITH EXPERTISE WHO WANTED TO DIG THEM, NOT TO MENTION PERMISSION, BUT IT'S THE BEST IDEA I'VE HAD SO FAR.\n\nFiguring out whether Stormwrack was simply the future was important, because whatever had wiped out or submerged most of the Earth's continental landmass had obviously been devastating. Was their home staring down the barrel of a bunch of massive comet strikes? The chances of those hypothetical strikes happening within their own lifetimes was vanishingly small—she and Bram estimated a ten-thousand-year window for such an event—but neither of them could let go of the possibility.\n\nHOW ARE MOM AND DAD DOING? DID YOU GIVE THEM MY LETTER? YOU HAVEN'T SAID—\n\n\"Kir Sophie?\"\n\nShe looked up from the letter she was writing into the impassive, big-eyed face of a government functionary from the nation of Verdanii. \"Hi, Bettona.\"\n\n\"Convenor Gracechild will see you now.\"\n\nAnnela Gracechild was part of the government of the Fleet of Nations, a congress of two hundred and fifty sovereign countries, island nations clinging to the archipelagos of land that remained within the enormous seas that covered most of the world.\n\nSophie hadn't set out to abandon ordinary life in San Francisco, to forge a path, alone, on a strange world. But six weeks earlier she'd been given a choice: stay, now, and make a place for herself... or never come back.\n\nStormwrack's very existence was a whopper of a scientific discovery. And given the lingering chance that it was Earth's future, that a disaster was on the horizon... Despite the risks, she'd stayed.\n\nHer brother had returned to San Francisco to follow up their research into the connection between Earth and Stormwrack and—just as important—to ensure their parents didn't report them both missing.\n\nAs for Sophie's half sister, Verena, and the crew of the sailing vessel Nightjar: Annela had sent them off on an unofficial diplomatic mission.\n\nSophie had been working to endear herself to Annela, who clearly had veto power over Sophie getting the Stormwrack equivalent of a green card. Agreeing to poke into the serial attacks on the Fleet's civilian ships had seemed, at the time, like a good way to make her case.\n\nIt hadn't occurred to her that she might fail.\n\nNow she got up, exchanged bobs with the assistant—she was getting better at the Fleet bow—and followed her belowdecks to a cabin that looked, to Sophie, like an autumn-colored bordello. Orange silks hung from the walls, hiding the boards. Dark-brown cushions, embroidered with fallen leaves, covered most of the surfaces.\n\nAnnela Gracechild lay at the center of the nest. She was in her sixties, tall and curvy, with copper skin and so much self-confidence it barely left room in the cabin for air.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Annela said, declining to rise. Bettona set out a tray—tall cylindrical cups of thrown pottery, a steaming pot of anise-scented tea, and a plate of fresh-baked apricot biscuits and salted walnut sticks that reminded Sophie of pretzels. One of Bettona's cuffs was dusted with flour, hinting she had done the baking herself.\n\n\"Sit, girl.\"\n\nSophie said, \"Are you sick?\"\n\nAnnela gave her a flat look that might have meant anything from Thanks a lot for saying I look like crap to Not in front of the servants, dear.\n\n\"Fasting,\" she said. \"Now, what of Kitesharp?\"\n\nSophie filled her in on the morning's events, holding out the camera so Annela could see the wooden fright with its mossy green eyes. \"I'm not sure how much I can offer—it's obviously magic at work.\"\n\n\"Reminds me of the salt creatures you fought on that bandit ship, Incannis,\" Annela said. \"Short lived, somewhat mindless, used for mischief—\"\n\n\"This one can't cross the deck of the ship without rooting into the wood,\" Sophie said. The tea wasn't the usual, she noted—the anise flavor was strong. \"If a thing like this has an intended habitat, I'm guessing this isn't it.\"\n\nAnnela nodded. \"Yet tearing apart the ships' hulls and sinking them seems to be the point.\"\n\nSophie braced herself for a reprimand for having hastened the ship's demise. When none came, she went on. \"The drawn outline of the hand is off—there's something wrong with the little finger. I suggested Septer Xianlu have a glance at all the Kitesharp crew.\"\n\n\"In case someone's missing a digit?\"\n\n\"And walks funny. The fright had a limp.\"\n\nAnnela looked at Bettona, who made a note.\n\n\"I also have a sample of the waxy stuff. It might be testable.\"\n\n\"Your brother can send you instructions for performing an alchemical knowing, can he not?\" Annela asked.\n\n\"Chemical identification,\" Sophie corrected. \"Maybe. If the supplies exist here. There's also this.\" She held up the plastic container containing the bit of bloody tissue, preserved in denatured alcohol. \"It's gross, but I wonder if this might not be uterine tissue.\"\n\nAnnela looked it over. \"Looks like it. I suppose there's no way to be sure.\"\n\n\"There might be,\" Sophie said. There's no way to be sure was rapidly becoming her least favorite phrase. \"I'll need to talk to a doctor.\"\n\n\"An outland doctor?\"\n\n\"You must have obstetricians here,\" Sophie said. \"The whole thing had an icky birth vibe to it. The blood trail, the way the fright pushed its way up through the ship—\"\n\n\"The Fleet decries frightmaking; there was an international effort to stamp out the known inscriptions, perhaps fifty years ago. There'd been an incident, on Tug Island, I believe. Thousands of them, running riot.\" Annela handed back the sample. \"I seem to recall the spells require a subject, someone to provide a...\" Her hands moved, shaping a figure.\n\n\"A template?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is there anyone who'd know?\"\n\n\"You could ask that last bandit from Incannis, the one who attacked you. He's aboard Docket, awaiting trial,\" Annela said. \"Request a visitor's pass from the judiciary.\"\n\nSophie nodded without enthusiasm. Her birth father had captured the sailor in question, while slaughtering all of his crewmates. She could do without any hard reminders of that particular bloodbath. \"Yeah. Or... is there a listing or index of spells? Something that would talk about frightmaking?\"\n\n\"Perhaps some trial minutes persist, from the cases related to the effort to eliminate the practice. You want your pet memorician to look at them?\" Annela said.\n\n\"Is that a problem?\"\n\n\"As far as I can tell, you can find a reason to want access to every piece of information, true or false, ever recorded.\"\n\n\"It's not my fault everyone here thinks curiosity's some kind of personality defect,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Cultural flaw, rather,\" Annela corrected.\n\n\"So I'm not broken, I'm just—\"\n\n\"Savage. Just so.\"\n\n\"Thanks a lot, Annela.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To get back to your wood fright: I mentioned the bandit ship and the salt frights because of the effort to stamp out such spellwriting. There can't be that many active frightmakers.\"\n\nBased on what evidence? \"You really believe that whoever made that ship with the salt zombies might be the same person who attacked Kitesharp?\"\n\n\"It's the same behavior, isn't it? Sinking ships and attacking their crews?\"\n\nSophie nodded. \"How to prove it, though, that's the thing.\"\n\nAnnela gave a little shoulder twitch, the common gesture that seemed to mean Don't know, don't care. \"Seems probable enough.\"\n\n\"It's probable enough and we'll never know that are gumming up your court system,\" Sophie said. \"The point of using me is supposed to be about bringing a little definitely and for sure into the mix. Not to mention case closed.\"\n\nAnnela tsked. \"How much progress have you made? This Forensic Institute of yours promised great things to the peoples of the Fleet, but what you've accomplished is little more than a well-trained agent of the Watch might have managed.\"\n\n\"And yet didn't.\" Sophie didn't quite hide her sense of insult. It was Annela's way, she knew, to look at a horse-size success and complain because it wasn't an elephant. \"Anyway, since you ask, I have a proposal.\"\n\n\"Do you indeed?\"\n\nSnagging an apricot biscuit, Sophie pulled out a wad of two-page briefs—a tiny fraction of the Fleet's ongoing bureaucratic logjams.\n\n\"What are these?\"\n\nSophie passed them to Bettona, who started leafing through the pages.\n\n\"Five or six times a year, someone disappears from Fleet,\" Sophie said. \"They desert, or fall overboard, or whatever. And about every three months, bodies turn up in the ocean. Sometimes they're identifiable, sometimes not.\"\n\nAnnela nodded. \"That's life asea.\"\n\n\"These files are petitions by families,\" Bettona said. \"Requests for death benefits for Fleet recruits who've gone missing but are not proved dead.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"I've learned that the Fleet takes handprints from its new cadets,\" Sophie said. \"You've even used them a couple times to confirm someone's identity. But it's basically been a matter of getting lucky. Some random officer compares the corpse's prints with the ten most likely missing people. If it happens to look like a match, then hurrah. If not, you're all 'Alas, we can't figure it out.' Eventually, you get one of these lawsuits.\"\n\n\"Petitions,\" Bettona corrected.\n\n\"You can do better, Sophie?\"\n\n\"Fingerprint identification is an established forensic practice, back home. What if I got the Fleet fingerprint files on the missing people, took the prints of the 'found sailors,' as you call them—\"\n\n\"The bodies, you mean.\"\n\n\"Yeah. And trained some Watch people so they could create the beginning of a fingerprint bureau?\"\n\n\"What's to keep you from falsifying matches?\"\n\n\"Excellent question,\" she said, managing to hang on to her smile. \"The answer is, the Fleet gives us the prints of all the missing individuals but mixes them into a number of other handprint samples. Say five hundred or a thousand. They don't tell us who's who.\"\n\n\"You believe you can pick the missing individuals out of the larger pool?\"\n\n\"Totally.\"\n\n\"Without magic?\"\n\n\"Say the Watch gives me a few people and I train them in dactyloscopy. If each of us comes up with the same matches, independently, and if the personnel files they match correspond to missing individuals instead of Joe Random Sailor—\"\n\n\"That would be convincing,\" Annela conceded.\n\n\"Convincing?\" Sophie said. \"Get excited, Annela! It'd be impressive!\"\n\nAnnela couldn't quite hide a smile. \"This is something you know how to do?\"\n\n\"Ah. There's the catch.\" She laid out how far they had gotten to date. Bram had assembled information on the procedures. They were both pretty sure Sophie could pick it up. \"When the technique originally propagated on Erstwhile, a lot of cops managed to work it out by using textbooks and writing to each other.\"\n\nAnnela glowered at the apricot biscuits. \"Then this is a ploy to get a transit visa to your home nation.\"\n\n\"It's not a ploy,\" Sophie said. \"I don't ploy. You already know I want to go home.\"\n\n\"And come back. And go again.\"\n\n\"I'm happy to bring forensics to Stormwrack, but it's not all up here.\" She tapped her head. \"You can't ask me for help, cut me off at the knees, and then carp about lack of results.\"\n\n\"Is that what I do?\"\n\n\"If I can teach the Watch to identify fingerprints, it'll have tons of other uses. At home, prints are used to solve crimes, not just identify bodies.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\nSophie picked up one of the cookies. It was warm, moist, just a bit oily. Then she rolled her thumb over the teacup, leaving a visible print. \"You can find prints like this everywhere. The natural oils in our skin make them. This one's visible, but the Watch can learn to pick up prints that can't be seen.\"\n\n\"To what end?\"\n\n\"A print match can prove where someone's been, or whether they touched a... say, a weapon. It can place someone at a crime scene after they've sworn they were never there.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" Bettona said.\n\n\"Seriously. It's a whole thing, back home. Very reliable.\" Reading the doubt on their faces, she scooped up a carefully polished letter opener, made of lacquered wood, with a visible—if smudged—partial print on it. \"This is probably yours, Bettona. Want me to see if I can prove it?\"\n\n\"No parlor tricks. Not now.\" Annela rubbed her temples. A clock ticked loudly, somewhere close, and the seconds clunking by made it seem as though the older woman was taking forever. To hide her impatience, Sophie ate another of the cookies.\n\nFinally, Annela said, \"It seems a more comprehensible procedure than the identity coding you tried to explain.\"\n\n\"There's no way you can do DNA analysis here. Anyway, about the sailors' bodies. Wouldn't that be good PR? If you start paying out pensions to the families, instead of wrangling over it while they suffer?\"\n\n\"Mm-m-m,\" Annela said.\n\nShe's going to say yes. Sophie was elated. \"There are things I have to go home and learn. Plus, I can't just vanish on my family.\"\n\n\"What will you bring to Erstwhile, while you're landing there to acquire esoteric knowledge on uterine tissue and corpse fingers?\"\n\nSophie fought to keep her mouth shut. She could protest that she'd keep Stormwrack's existence a secret, but Annela would just come back with the inconvenient truth: Sophie had told her brother, the first chance she got. Besides, she was hoping to talk the government here into loosening up on the secrecy. Sooner or later, she and Bram had to get more experts from Earth in on researching this world.\n\nFirst things first. This was the first step, and she sensed, at long last, some give in Annela.\n\n\"You've shown this new branch of study has its uses,\" Annela conceded. \"The Watch has a few lamentably curious work pairs who are excited by your results. If they like this proposal of yours, they'll recommend it to the court. You would work with the adjudication branch, continuing as you have been, investigating stalled cases that might be resolved by...\"\n\n\"Evidence? Proof?\"\n\n\"You would have increased accountability and a higher degree of support. Salaries for you, your memorician, these apprentice fingerprint investigators you ask for, perhaps a clerk or two.\"\n\n\"What about a role for Bram?\" She wasn't eager to expose her brother to Stormwrack and its dangers, but it wasn't her call, and she'd promised to ask.\n\n\"Depending on the cases in question. You would also be permitted to make periodic visits to Erstwhile.\"\n\n\"Awesome!\" A flood of relief—she almost teared up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc) Essential phrase to include: \"What will you do when one of your experiments benefits your enemies?\" (ooc)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Remaining in Fleet had been a gamble, but she'd been afraid to go home until she had official permission to travel between the worlds.\n\nThere had always been a chance Annela would never let her go home.\n\n\"Before you get too excited, you should know you would have to take the Oath of Service to the Fleet of Nations.\"\n\nWrackers and their oaths and agreements. \"Which promises what?\"\n\nAnnela nodded at Bettona, who said, \"You would be, in essence, an agent of the court. You would report to the judiciary, act in their interest, enforce the law, maintain government confidences—\"\n\n\"Doesn't sound too major.\"\n\n\"The consequences, when you break oath, will be severe,\" Annela said. \"You couldn't recover from them as you have from your other blunders.\"\n\nBlunders. Telling Bram about Stormwrack and magic. Returning when she'd been told to stay away. Getting into a big fight with her birth father over his stupid country of origin and its evil laws—\n\n\"What makes you think I'd break oath?\"\n\n\"You broke your contract with your father within weeks of leaving for Sylvanna,\" Annela said.\n\n\"Yeah, because you didn't tell me he was taking me to the Old South slave plantation from hell!\"\n\n\"Hell...?\"\n\nSophie sighed. Thanks to magic, she was perfectly fluent in the language of the Fleet, but on occasion she spat out an English euphemism that confused people. Hell, here, was the capital city of another island nation.\n\nParrish's island nation.\n\n\"Forget it,\" she said, unsure if she was responding to Annela or to the inner voice that brought up Garland at every opportunity.\n\n\"One can only fight nature for so long, Sophie,\" Annela said. \"You've freely shared your opinion that the Fleet's values are antiquated and ridiculous. You are bound at some point to prefer your judgment over our rules—\"\n\n\"How can you say that? I lived just fine in the outlands, as you call them, without ever once going on a crime spree. I barely even break the speed limit when I drive!\"\n\n\"What will you do when one of your experiments benefits your enemies?\"\n\n\"I don't have enemies.\"\n\n\"No? There are the men who kidnapped and tortured your brother.\"\n\n\"I—\" It was a slap. \"Science doesn't lie. Innocent's innocent. Guilty's—\"\n\n\"I'm not trying to be unkind, Sophie. You've said yourself you have no talent for discretion.\"\n\n\"I said I'm a bad liar. That's different.\"\n\n\"Is it? I believe you will always put how you feel before the facts and rule of law. I fear, deep down, you are contemptuous of our system.\"\n\nI'm not gonna cry. Sophie toyed with another of the apricot biscuits. \"Then why let me go forward?\"\n\n\"I cannot punish you for oathbreaking until you do it.\"\n\n\"That's how it is? 'Here's a rope. Let's see how long it takes you to hang yourself.'\"\n\n\"We'd say, 'Here's a rope. Go loop a sinking anchor.' But yes.\"\n\nThis woman is going to be out to get me until the day I die.\n\n\"So, what? Can I do this now? I raise my hand and solemnly swear to—\"\n\n\"Your lawyer must read the documents. We need assurance that you understand what you're agreeing to. After that, there's a swearing in every two days.\"\n\n\"Fine.\"\n\nA hint of concern etched itself on Annela's face. \"You shouldn't do this.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't have promised me I'd fail.\"\n\n\"Striving to prove me wrong is a childish reason to take an oath. But I won't stop you. Do you want to interview that bandit about frights?\"\n\nReluctance rose again, but Sophie quashed it. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"I'll file an application. Is there anything else?\"\n\n\"We talked about me checking out one of those mermaid training drills.\" Ever since she'd come to Stormwrack, she'd been diving without a proper partner... emphatically not a trend she wished to continue.\n\nThere was an expression, back home: Dive alone, die alone. Sophie liked an adventure as much as anyone, but she didn't want to become an object lesson in the truth of catchy safety slogans.\n\n\"Bette, go find that note of introduction for the diving captain.\"\n\n\"At once, Convenor.\" Bettona disappeared, taking the thumbprinted letter opener with her.\n\n\"Well, Sophie? Are we done?\"\n\n\"Why are you fasting?\"\n\nAnnela's head came up, barely showing surprise. \"It is,\" she said, \"an ordeal set by the Verdanii people.\"\n\nReligion, then? \"Oh. Um. Thanks for telling me.\"\n\n\"It's common knowledge, or I wouldn't.\"\n\n\"The cookies and nut sticks were all for me?\"\n\n\"Take them with you. I'm not sure why Bettona made so many, but I'd prefer they didn't go to waste. Calm seas, girl.\"\n\n\"'Bye,\" she said, bowing herself out.\n\nConstitution was a ship of bureaucrats, which meant that to her fore there was a law library. It was a bright room, filled with small desks and plush velvet chairs. Half of these were pointed at the smoky obsidian portals of the lounge, revealing a tinted view of the ocean. Two ships were visible to Constitution's fore. Temperance was the flagship and iron fist of the Fleet, a sharkskinned behemoth with smokestacks rather than sails and almost no glass at all. She was an important symbol of the peace that had reigned between the two hundred and fifty island nations for more than a century. Her captain could sink any ship afloat, simply by speaking its full name aloud.\n\nStep out of line, start a war with your neighbor, and glug, doomed, sunk. A deterrent.\n\nThe second ship was Breadbasket.\n\nEach nation had one official Fleet ship, and Breadbasket was Verdanii, the representative ship of Annela's people. Sophie's birth mother and half sister were Verdanii. She might be, too, if she hadn't repudiated citizenship in a weird government hearing eight months earlier. She was officially persona non grata on her birth mother's home island.\n\nAs for her birth father...\n\nNo. She wouldn't think about Cly.\n\nWhere Temperance was sharky, Breadbasket was a whale ship of sorts—she had a baleen and a tail. Her masts were live trees, red-trunked palms skirted in sails of woven corn silk and inhabited by jewel-toned insects that served some kind of pollinating function for the crops growing on every available deck of the ship.\n\nShe was a great oceangoing farm, in other words—a floating cornucopia, a symbol of her nation's great wealth. Verdanii was the nation with the most landmass, the agricultural giant of the world.\n\nRooting in her satchel, Sophie started, as she often did, with the notebook filled with questions about Stormwrack and Earth.\n\nOpening it, she paged through, scanning the endless list of mysteries before adding a couple new thoughts:\n\nHOW DO YOU ID UTERINE TISSUE IN AS? AS, her abbreviation for Age of Sail, was an imperfect description of Stormwrack's technological state—except when it meant Age of Superstition or Age of Just Plain Stupid.\n\nARE THE BUGS IN BREADBASKET'S SAILS ACRIDIDAE OR NEUROPTERA? WHAT'S A VERDANII ORDEAL? WHAT'S THE VERDANII BELIEF SYSTEM?\n\nIS IT AN EARWORM, OR AM I STILL HEARING THAT DAMNED TICKING CLOCK FROM ANNELA'S OFFICE?\n\nWhen she ran out of things to wonder, she pulled out the letter she had already begun to Bram.\n\nThe note was written on messageply.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As soon as she had written the words, an hour ago, they'd turned up on a twin sheet in San Francisco, where her brother was. He had obviously read them in the meantime; there was an answering message right below the spot where she'd stopped.\n\nGOOD IDEA RE THE ARCHAEOLOGIST. WILL LOOK OVER THE MAP AND READ UP ON EGYPTIAN SITES. BTW: 5.\n\nBTW: \"I miss you.\" With a number, five out of five. To save messageply, they'd stopped putting the words in.\n\nSophie found herself smiling. Like him, she skipped the \"I miss you\" and started with:\n\n5 TO YOU TOO. I S/B VISITING SOON IF ALL GOES WELL. AG AGREES I NEED FINGERPRINTING INFO.\n\nA shadow fell between her and the tinted view of the sea.\n\nLooking up, Sophie found herself staring at the official government representative of Isle of Gold.\n\nConvenor Brawn looked ancient: he was bald, with skin cured to leather by years under a hot sun. His longcoat was made of red velvet, embroidered in gold and, today, belted with a chain of dangling gold skulls. His seven-foot frame was balanced on high boots and a cane that looked like ivory. His fingernails were four inches long—that seemed to be an Isle of Gold thing—and had been artificially straightened to resemble knife blades. Opals were embedded in the nails.\n\nOMG, what do you want? Sophie managed to strangle the impulse to say this.\n\nTake that, Annela. I can be discreet.\n\nHad Annela arranged this? She'd thrown Bram's kidnapping in Sophie's face only half an hour before. Now here was the man who'd almost certainly ordered it.\n\nThey'd shoved a black pearl under Bram's thumbnail with a needle.\n\nRage gnawed at her resolve to keep quiet. To gather herself, she looked past Brawn, taking in the Fleet page attending him. She seemed to be Golder, too. She had extravagantly long red hair, curly and colored black just at its fringes, and enormous brown eyes. She was about Sophie's age, which seemed old for a page. Maybe she'd failed her exams.\n\nSophie turned on her camera, out of habit, taking a few shots of them both. Neither of them showed the least curiosity about what she was doing.\n\n\"Kir Hansa,\" Brawn purred into the silence. \"We haven't met formally. I am Convenor Brawn from Isle of Gold.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\" She slapped her notebook shut and stood. If I knew all the nuances of bowing, I could give him some kind of snooty \"screw you\" half-bob. Out of perversity, she curtsied.\n\nAs he was bowing himself, he missed it, or affected to. \"May I offer you a glass of wine? Perhaps you prefer Verdanii beer?\"\n\n\"I'm—um—full.\"\n\n\"Straight to business then, oui?\"\n\n\"We have business?\"\n\nHe pointed a claw at a chair and the girl moved, sliding the seat under Brawn's bony backside as he perched on its cushion. \"I am following your career. This forensic practice, and the court cases you've been grooming.\"\n\n\"Uh... thank you?\"\n\n\"Isle of Gold is a great nation, and we are fastidious about certain cultural practices. One such is self-reflection. I've concluded that you bested me in the Convene eight months ago.\"\n\n\"I certainly kept you from getting what you wanted,\" she said. There had been a plot to disenchant Temperance, to destroy the spell that made it such a lethal ship-killing weapon.\n\n\"Indeed. You threw my plans to dry dock.\"\n\nShe had mixed feelings about having preserved the government's big military deterrent. But back in the day, when Temperance first set sail, she had driven Brawn's people out of the piracy racket. The ship had been the instrument by which hundreds of lives were saved.\n\n\"It is our tradition to offer someone who has bested us a boon.\"\n\nSophie laughed. \"You want to do me a favor?\"\n\n\"Best me one time, I reward you. A measure of respect. Best me twice, and we are enemies toutta demonde... forever.\"\n\n\"You kidnapped my brother.\"\n\n\"Careful. Openly declaring me a foe would be unwise.\"\n\nShe clenched her fists under the table, taking him in, looking for hints of secrets, of weakness, anything that might tell her what he wanted, or how she could... how had he put it? Best him again.\n\nBrawn's eye had fallen on Sophie's book of questions. She fought the urge to close or hide it. He almost certainly couldn't read English, and there were no secrets there anyway.\n\nInstead of snatching it away, she said, \"This is a ritual way of saying... what? 'No hard feelings'?\"\n\n\"Yes, nicely put. No hard feelings.\" He rolled that around, as if tasting it. \"It is an opportunity for both parties to sail away from bloody feud.\"\n\n\"What if I never collect on the favor but I cross you again?\"\n\n\"Then, in the moment before your destruction, I shall offer you a kindness. The traditional choice offered is between painless death or payment to your kin. It's a matter of honor—a concept, I'm given to understand, that you don't cherish.\"\n\nMaybe he was trying to provoke her so they could go straight to the feuding. \"What could you possibly have that I'd want?\"\n\n\"A Golder spouse and citizen's papers?\"\n\n\"You want to marry me into the Piracy?\" She couldn't help it—she began to laugh. \"OMG.\"\n\n\"It's rumored, Kir Sophie, that cased in that self-righteous exterior of yours is the heart of a rogue. It's said you take after ye perre... your father.\"\n\n\"My father the Supreme Court judge?\"\n\n\"Your father the killer.\"\n\nYou are trying to pick a fight. Sophie's gaze dropped to the book of questions. She should send the guy packing.\n\nBut if he knows stuff...\n\n\"How about this? I first came here after John Coine traveled to the... outlands to buy grenades and assassinate my aunt.\"\n\n\"What's that to me?\"\n\nShe leaned forward. \"What if I wanted to know how he got there? The Verdanii seem to think they're the only ones who—\" She wasn't allowed to talk about Earth explicitly. But Brawn was involved. He had to know. \"Who know the route to the grenade store.\"\n\n\"You're asking for information.\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"If I cut you, girl, will you bleed knowledge?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gooseflesh rose on her arms. \"Do you know?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 42 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He got up, sweeping his lace sleeves over the table as he levered himself upward. \"I will do as you ask, soon as you've taken the Oath.\"\n\nThat didn't go how you thought it would, did it? Sophie thought. She knew why, too: suddenly everyone's big predictions about what she would or wouldn't do had fallen into place. Annela figured she'd break her oath because Annela assumed Sophie would think like a Verdanii. Or, perhaps, like a savage outlander.\n\nBrawn had expected her to go into some kind of emo fit, insulting him sufficiently that he could move forward with his vendetta. Now, instead...\n\nHe uttered a few words in yet another new language, one with a few tantalizingly French-sounding cadences, and then said, \"Sophie Hansa, child of outland, daughter of Sylvanna, I hereby commit. Once this boon is delivered, the two of us may sit in comfort and declare a peace.\" With that, he caned himself away, drawing in his wake the curly-haired page—who shot Sophie a glare as she went.\n\nHeart pounding, Sophie collapsed back into the reading room chair. Now she needed more legal advice: if Brawn was willing to tell her something after she got herself oathed up, it might mean she couldn't legally act on it.\n\nI should just learn the Fleet laws.\n\nWhen she had first arrived on Stormwrack, it had been by accident. She'd washed up on an island of poverty-stricken fishers, with her half-dead aunt in tow. The island spellscribe had written an inscription to teach her the language of the Fleet.\n\nThe spell made her perfectly fluent. She spoke the language without a trace of an accent; she spoke it better than many lifetime residents of the oceangoing city, most of whom had learned it as a second language. All it had cost her was a ripping headache.\n\nShe added LEARN THE LAW? to a new page in her notebook and began to consider routes that would take her in the direction of her lawyer. In a city where every block was a ship on the move, even the simplest errands were a series of hops, complex exercises in logistics. If you took an airborne taxi here, you could catch lunch while waiting on a ferry to somewhere else. Residents called it footwork: if you could do ten errands in three transits, you were \"light on your feet.\"\n\nBram had jotted another note onto the messageply: CAN U C A STICK FIGURE?\n\nShe replied, NO. WHY?\n\nHim: TRYING TO PROJECT TEXT ONTO MESSAGEPLY WITHOUT WRITING.\n\nHer: NOTHING THERE.\n\nShould she tell him about her encounter with Brawn?\n\nWhat about now?\n\nShe scratched the word STILL in front of the \"Nothing there\" from earlier.\n\nThen, instead of making for the legal quarter, she packaged up Annela's paperwork, took up a page of cheap, unmagical paper, and wrote to her lawyer, Mensalohm, explaining about the offered deal and her idea of learning the law. She flagged a page and asked him to have it delivered.\n\nShe sent a second note to Krispos—her \"pet memorician,\" as Annela had called him:\n\nGOOD NEWS—YOU'RE OFFICIALLY ON THE JUDICIARY PAYROLL. PLEASE READ UP ON ISLE OF GOLD TRADITIONS ABOUT BLOOD FEUDS, FAVORS, AND CHALLENGES. ALSO, SEE WHAT YOU CAN LEARN ABOUT FRIGHTMAKING.\n\nShe took a moment to savor that. Krispos was a magically enhanced speed-reader with perfect recall. He had been foundering in a state of impoverished semi-unemployment for about five years. Even the prospect of having a real job within Fleet made the old fellow tear up.\n\nShe'd done all she could aboard Constitution. Taking her note of introduction from Annela, she caught a ferry to Vaddle, the diving vessel.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep going w/ 59 sentences more. Note: Might reference existing chars", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Sophie:\n\nBram says he can forward you the occasional short message. I can't say either Dad or I understands why you can't use e-mail. It makes me imagine you're on a compound, somewhere remote like Bora Bora, diving the Great Barrier Reef. Still... no access to Internet? Is mail truly coming in bundles by boat or something whenever someone putt-putts out to civilization?\n\nIf this seems preposterous, you'll have to send a few facts to sharpen up my imaginings. Surely we could be permitted to know which hemisphere you're in?\n\nYou know, when I left home to go to university in Oxford, I did this all the time—wrote paper letters home to Grandma and Grandpa. I don't remember it being this difficult. Well. All's fine here. The main thing is, I suppose, that Dad and I are thinking of going to Peru in late August. If there's any chance you'll be back then, let us know so we can make different plans. We don't want to miss you.\n\nLove,\n\nMom\n\nPS from B—Sorry this is dull, Sofe—I told her no guilt and no questions or I wouldn't send it.\n\nMermaid training turned out to be rather horrifying.\n\nThe Fleet used a leaky-looking sailing vessel called Vaddle (which apparently meant \"hatchery,\" in one of the Fleet's many tongues) for its undersea soldiering detachment.\n\nIt was a ship of swimming pools. One was square, divided into lanes, where ordinary two-legged cadets swam lengths, practiced rescues, and worked on their endurance. There was also a resistance pool in which senior cadets worked on becoming even stronger swimmers.\n\nBelowdecks were the transforms.\n\nThe training master was a sunburned veteran with a desiccated fish tail, Sollo Mykander. Out of the water, she seemed to live in a peculiar hammock chair, carried wherever she wished by a strapping six-foot sailor. The remains of her tail were a mix of silver and rust; the tattered scales put Sophie in mind of an old pat of steel wool. A damp silk tank top clung to her sagging breasts and belly.\n\n\"The great 'Nella Gracechild says I'm to tour you about,\" Sollo said. As she talked, she sponged salt water onto the salmon gills under her chin. The skin was spotted and unhealthy looking.\n\nKeeping her eyes on Sollo's face, Sophie explained, \"I'm a diver from the outlands. I want to see how it's done here.\"\n\n\"We've a treat for you, then. We're making a new mer today, if you're interested.\"\n\nNew? \"Totally interested!\"\n\n\"You—Octer Weld—show this curiosity to the birth tank. I'll be down momentarily.\"\n\nThe cadet led Sophie down through the stench of rotting timbers and dying fish to a candlelit room where a complicated spellwriting operation was ramping up. A flaxen-haired six-year-old—Sophie wasn't sure whether it was a girl or a boy—was waiting on a beige couch. Nearby, a pair of individuals who looked to be a spellscribe and his apprentice were prepping a writing table. The material for the inscription was a yard-square sheet of sedimentary shale. Sophie saw a small coelacanth fossil within it.\n\nFossils! She added a note to her book of questions. ARE THERE FOSSIL VENDORS? WHERE DO THEY DIG? WHAT ELSE HAVE THEY FOUND?\n\nWas there a way to use the fossil record to better understand the link between Stormwrack and Earth?\n\nThe cadet spoke to the scribe, clarifying Sophie's observer status.\n\nHe offered her a gap-toothed smile. \"Best view's over there, Kir.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Before retreating to the designated viewing spot, she took a few photos of the spellwriting space. It contained an assortment of materials—picks, brushes, inks, and paints.\n\nAs she came around the sheet of shale, she saw that the remainder of the chamber was dominated by a pair of deep, cylindrical tanks, one of which held a healthy merman.\n\nMerman!\n\nPick your jaw up off the floor, Sofe. She'd seen stranger things, but how could anyone tire of the miraculous? She raised the camera again.\n\nThe second pool contained a circling fish—bluefish, Sophie thought. A forty-pounder, at least.\n\nSollo arrived in the hammock-chair, still hefted by the strapping sailor. \"Are we set?\"\n\nEveryone nodded.\n\nShe bent to take the child's hands.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do we say?\"\n\n\"Endure the dark.\" The kid was calm, almost disturbingly placid. \"Questi ordeale, and dawn again wondrous.\"\n\nOrdeale, Sophie thought. Annela had been fasting for an ordeal.\n\n\"Pearl?\"\n\nOne of the spellscribes handed Sollo a pearl, dime-size in diameter. She shined it with a soft rag, showing it to the child, who examined it solemnly before nodding. Then the big guy carried Sollo over to Sophie's corner.\n\n\"Let us begin.\" Sollo tossed the pearl into the tank with the fish.\n\nA splash. The scribe chipped letters into the stone tablet. The kid rolled off the couch.\n\nHe's paraplegic, Sophie realized as the blanket fell away. He began to drag his withered legs, using arm strength, to the pool containing the fish and the pearl.\n\n\"It can be hard to watch,\" Sollo said. Sophie's face must have showed her reaction; maybe she'd made a noise. \"We're young when we change. It makes the intention easier to bear. But to watch a child do this...\"\n\nRecord and observe.\n\nShe swallowed. \"Was he born paralyzed?\"\n\n\"Yes. On Ualtar. Many nations expose their imperfect young, but children with this particular trouble are welcomed aboard Vaddle at birth. Not me, though. I was injured in an accident at age two. I had to apply.\"\n\n\"There must be other birth defects, then, that have... magical uses?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. There are intentions one can work on a deaf baby, or one with not much mind.\"\n\n\"No choice offered to them, I suppose.\"\n\nSollo shrugged. \"Magic fashions the otherwise unfit.\"\n\nUnfit. She had disabled friends, at home, who'd have plenty to say about that attitude.\n\nHer doubts must have shown on her face, because Sollo added, \"I'd rather have had my life asea than none at all. Or to have spent years being hauled about, as I am now, like a sack of salt.\"\n\nBy now the boy had crawled to the edge of the pool. With a practiced move, he rolled his lower body into the water.\n\nThe bluefish struck, rising out of the tank, glomming on to the boy's barely submerged feet, driving itself up his legs, gulping.\n\nSophie cried out. The child's eyes were swimming with tears, but he clenched his jaw—Brave little guy! —and actually pushed himself into the water, shoving himself farther down the fish's gullet.\n\nThe bluefish was distended now, stretched. Sophie could see the shape of the child's legs, the fish sleeved over them, more a rubber suit, less a living thing. With a final thrash, it struggled to reach the boy's waist and bit—really bit—down. Curls of blood swirled in the water, and Sophie thought of the wounded ship Kitesharp.\n\nThe weight of the fish tipped the boy off the edge of the pool. He treaded water for all he was worth.\n\nThe merman in the adjacent pool uncoiled, catching the boy's hands.\n\nDust and chips of stone flew in every direction, clattering on the deck, as the scribes carved text into the shale.\n\nThe merman checked the edge of the bluefish's lips—the punctures left by the teeth. He had a look to see that the boy's navel remained exposed, then folded the fish's flesh upward at the boy's pelvis. He bandaged the join with something that looked like seaweed.\n\nSophie was reminded of her mother straightening Sophie's dress on school picture day.\n\nBut Mo-o-om, I want to wear my soccer uniform.\n\nThey murmured together, man and boy, checking everything. The boy was pale, but Sophie was struck again by his courage.\n\nWhen they seemed to agree that the fit of the fish was correct, the merman looked at the scribe.\n\n\"Ready?\"\n\n\"Proceed.\"\n\nUsing a curved stone knife, the merman cut into the bluefish's head, scooping out its brain.\n\n\"Big breath,\" he said, and the kid sucked air. Then, turning awkwardly in the water, his paralyzed legs weighted with forty-odd pounds of dying fish, the boy dove, making for the pearl at the bottom of the tank.\n\nHe didn't come up.\n\n\"Here is where our nerve most commonly breaks,\" Sollo said. \"To wait, until breath fails, to take the mouth of the sea...\"\n\n\"He's gonna drown?\" Freaking out, Bram, she thought. Five out of five freaking—\n\n\"If he tries to rise before the spines join and the gills move up...\" Sollo drew her fingers over her own throat, then Sophie's. \"Sittler will hold him under.\"\n\n\"That's awful!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, but necessary. If he fails now, he bleeds to death of his wounds. I had to be held,\" Sollo said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's a badge of pride to have the nerve, but...\"\n\nThe boy had made it to the bottom and was searching for the pearl amid the bits and pieces of shell.\n\nSophie fought the temptation to look away. She had felt like this before, on shoots, when she was recording predators. Witnessing the death of an animal—holding a shot in focus as orcas bumped seals off ice floes, for example—had never been her favorite part of the job.\n\nIt's truth. You're capturing an important truth, she told herself. Count to thirty. Hold the shot.\n\nThe boy wrapped his arms around a jutting piece of stone and blew air out of his lungs.\n\n\"Oh, brave! Brave!\" Sollo said approvingly.\n\nSophie felt her teeth grinding. The boy thrashed once more before transforming, in a single liquid shudder. Nearly invisible gills slashed their way into his throat, pink, fresh, and healthy. The length of fish on his spine writhed, tightened. Movement and vitality extended in both directions until the tip of the tail was a live thing and there was no transition anymore, no difference between boy and fish.\n\nIndisputably a single creature now, he surfaced, bursting up into the waiting embrace of the merman with a gush of water from his mouth that turned into a triumphant crow as they hugged.\n\n\"Is it done?\" Sollo asked.\n\n\"Ten minutes for final notations,\" came the word from the writing desk.\n\nThey would finish writing out the intention and then store the tablet somewhere safe. If it was broken, the boy would revert to his earlier state.\n\n\"Belowdecks, they're doing agility drills,\" Sollo said. \"If you're interested, Kir?\"\n\nSophie took the hint, packing up and leaving them to finish as the boy tore around the tank, reveling in his transformation.\n\nShe observed the agility drills and rescue practice, plus a lecture on hunting. When mers got separated from the Fleet, they could live almost indefinitely by foraging in the wilds of the ocean's photic zones.\n\nDO MERMAIDS DESERT THE FLEET? she wrote in her book. WHERE DO THEY GO?\n\n\"Haven't you guys been involved in the bumboat sinkings?\" she asked as she was waiting for a ferry to take her on to the rear.\n\n\"First boat went down before we could deploy. We were on another mission, the second time, and Shepherd had 'er in hand. We thought.\"\n\n\"And Kitesharp?\"\n\n\"I got two in the water for her. Hard seeing, all that blood and growth coming off her stern...\" Sollo spread her arms. \"They saw your fright rip itself off the hull. We'll know what to look for, next time. Ah, there's your taxi!\"\n\nSophie climbed aboard, grateful to be on her way back to the residential block at last.\n\nThe block was an apartment building at sea, and Sophie's rented berth within it was a smallish cabin with whitewashed boards, a bunk, and few amenities. The ship had mess halls, reading rooms, a bar, and communal baths. A service brought linens and a jug of fresh water daily, giving the block a faint semblance of a cruise ship. You could pay someone to come in and make the bed, but Sophie had declined to subscribe to a maid service.\n\nThey did bring mail, though. Her heart thumped as she pounced on an envelope sealed with navy-blue wax.\n\nIt was from Nightjar's captain, Garland Parrish. It began, ever so formally:\n\nGracious Kir Sophie,\n\nI would generally begin any letter to you with pleasantries about the ship and what we are all doing in your absence, but where we are bound, and why, is no matter for the public post.\n\nI can tell you the seas are calm, and everyone is well. Our new medic, Watts, is popular with the crew, perhaps especially Kir Sweet.\n\n\"Why you gossipy thing, you,\" she murmured.\n\nThe cat and ferret are getting along. The crew misses you.\n\nI miss you.\n\nSophie could hear him saying it, in his serious and too-formal way. The image sent a hum of energy through her. She thought fleetingly of her notes to Bram, the game they'd made of assigning numbers to their feelings: \"I miss you... seven. Ten. Fifty.\"\n\nI wish our respective duties had not contrived to separate us so soon after our trip to Issle Morta. We'd barely begun to discover what courting might mean for a pair such as we, and since then I have continued to think about what you've told me about outland \"dating\" (have I the Anglay correct? ).\n\nPerhaps we could go to the outlands and try it there, if either of us could get travel papers for an extended visit to your home.\n\n\"It might be easier to get some alone time in San Francisco,\" Sophie muttered. Shipboard living meant being in other people's pockets constantly.\n\nI know many things remain unsettled between us: our cultural differences, the question of destiny that bothers you so, and the awkwardness with your sister.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Know, if it helps, that I believe we can resolve everything, if only we can devote a little time to each other.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Words make a poor measure of how badly I wish to begin.\n\nVerena is bound for Verdanii aboard the great ship Fecund, and Nightjar has set a course for the Fleet. I hope, therefore, to see you soon.\n\nYours in bright spirits,\n\nGarland Parrish\n\nShe read it twice, then turned it over in her hands, treasuring it. Letting the sensation—rough paper on skin—sink into her consciousness.\n\nThe seal of wax, so like something out of a history play, caught her eye.\n\nShe pulled out her samples from Kitesharp, finding the crumb of red and laying it on her desk. It was just a smudge on the splinter of broken deck. Still, the texture was similar.\n\nDigging in her berth's tiny writing desk, she found her own stick of sealing wax. She bent to the floor of the room, rubbing it on the deck, then trying to draw the outline of her hand.\n\nIt wasn't easy, as it would have been if it were actually a crayon, but it worked. The marks had a similar shape—wobbly at the edges, the stroke growing wider as the friction wore down the corner of the stick of wax—and the color seemed identical.\n\nBy the time she had taken pictures and made some notes on what she'd done, Bram had run his messageply through someone's old-fashioned typewriter.\n\n> YOU SEE THIS, RIGHT?\n\n> YES, she wrote.\n\nNext was a printer.\n\n> AND THIS?\n\n> YES, she replied.\n\n> KTHXBAI. It took her a second to remember this meant \"Okay. Thanks. 'Bye.\"\n\nLinguistic displacement was happening more and more. She said \"Seas!\" and \"Teeth!\" nowadays, in place of English exclamations, which required translation.\n\nBram would be deep in yet another think about quantum entanglements and how the messageply worked. She glanced at her other page, which was far less active. No word at all from Verena.\n\nShe had been fighting the urge to pester her sister, rationalizing that Verena needed space, a little time to get over things, lick her wounds. Now Sophie couldn't hold off anymore:\n\n> GARLAND SAYS YOU'RE NOT ON NIGHTJAR—WHAT'S UP? I KNOW EVERYTHING'S PROBABLY FINE BUT CAN YOU LET ME KNOW?\n\nVerena was seventeen and the only other daughter of the woman who had given up Sophie at birth. She had spent her short life training to replace their aunt Gale, a seagoing diplomat-spy for the Fleet, and when Gale was murdered—\n\nSophie thought of Convenor Brawn again, flashing his long fingernails and offering favors.\n\nVerena had taken over Gale's job. She wasn't especially great at it, not yet, but that hadn't kept Annela from sending her off on Nightjar to see if she could convince some rigidly protocol-bound aristocrats to recall a convenor who was clearly suffering from severe mental illness.\n\nVerena was smart, and an amazing swordswoman. She also had a hopeless crush on Nightjar's captain, Garland Parrish.\n\nGarland. Sophie burrowed into her blankets, taking up the letter again, running her finger over the signature. The page was like something from a movie: lettered with perfect scoops and swirls.\n\n\"How badly I wish to begin,\" she read aloud.\n\nRather than do something schoolgirl silly, like kiss the letter, she turned on the small vid screen on her camera. From there she skipped back—past the boy's transformation to mermaid, past the wood fright chasing her, past stills of her growing collection of coral samples—to her one bit of live footage of Garland.\n\nHe hadn't known she was recording him.\n\nGarland Parrish was a stunningly handsome man, with walnut-colored skin, unruly black curls, and a smile that had the tendency to hit Sophie with the mind-stopping intensity of a Taser. In this shot, which she'd viewed so many times she had every frame and hiccup of sound memorized, he was engaged in a deceptively girlish round of jump rope.\n\nAlso, he was shirtless.\n\n\"We learn this as Fleet cadets,\" he said, unaware that she'd hit the video setting on her camera and set it on a barrel nearby as he started with just a brisk hop-hop-hop. It was good enough cardio conditioning, a practical form of exercise for the deck of a small ship. \"Then, of course, we cross the arms, loop, loop, so...\"\n\n\"Boxers do this, at home.\" Her own voice, disembodied and distant, emanated from the camera.\n\nGarland looked past the lens. There was the smile—zap!\n\n\"Up the ramp...\"\n\nThe ramp was a board set on a wooden fulcrum—a teeter-totter, basically—and he nimbly skipped, forward and back, from one side to the other, as it tipped back and forth under his weight. \"Front, backward, sideways.\"\n\nHis skin started to shine as he worked up a sweat, but he wasn't breathless. Jumping on the midpoint of the teeter-totter, perfectly balanced, he looped the rope around his wrists, taking in slack until he was hopping in a tight crouch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "From this lowered position, he crabbed sideways down the inclined plane and back across.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 18 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "<<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'thought' must be used 4 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally, he flipped in midair, handspringing out of the crouch and letting the rope unspool as he came up. From there, with only one hop to recover his momentum and balance, he leaped up to the narrow rail of the ship.\n\nThe grace of him was breathtaking, but the clip ended there—he'd jumped right out of the frame. Sophie shut off the camera, set it aside, and burrowed into bed, thinking back to Issle Morta, to kissing him.\n\n\"I would very much like to court you,\" he had said.\n\nIt hadn't gone well after that. Verena's jealousy had interfered, and then Sophie learned that he thought the two of them were fated to be together, which was just so weird she still didn't know what to do with it, and now that the ship had been dispatched to who knew where...\n\nSophie groaned a little, reliving the memory of the kiss again, mentally skimming through the jump rope video, cutting in her memories of him climbing Nightjar's rigging, and then letting imagination take over—picturing the two of them swimming a shallow reef, warm lagoon, salty water, and nobody around for miles. Perfect water temperature for fooling around. Getting another taste of that lush mouth...\n\nShe let herself chase that thought to its logical conclusion, running the imaginary footage forward, from kissing to a meeting of tongues, and skin, his dexterous, well-formed muscles.\n\nHands, she thought, here and here, and then we'll...\n\nConcentration tightened into wordlessness. She focused, imagined, her breath catching, the feeling so intense it was almost like pain...\n\nGarland... Garland...\n\nA rise, a crest, and release.\n\nBurrowing deep under the wool blanket in her bunk, Sophie let the last semblance of coherent thought mumble its way out of her mind, until it quieted. Even the tick-tick-tick clock earworm that had been bothering her all afternoon became silent as she drifted, without even noticing it, into sleep.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Produce ninety-two sentences using the prose and structure of A. M. Dellamonica every time its your turn using what the user wrote as a seed. Story may drop you into ongoing events with established characters - work with whatever context is provided.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "HI, SOPHIE,", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "SORRY YOU WERE WORRIED.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I SHOULD'VE REALIZED GARLAND WOULD TELL YOU I TRANSFERRED TO FECUND AND THAT HE WOULDN'T TELL YOU WHY.\n\nBASICALLY, I ASKED THE FELIACHILD MATRIARCHS IF I COULD VISIT THE CAPITAL FOR SOME VERDANII SPIRITUAL TRAINING. GARLAND SUGGESTED SOMETHING CALLED A DETACHMENT RETREAT. THE IDEA IS I'LL GET OVER BEING IN LOVE WITH HIM AND JEALOUS OF YOU. I DON'T KNOW IF THAT'S POSSIBLE, BUT IT GIVES ME A CHANCE TO GET TO KNOW MY RELATIONS HERE, AND GET THEM USED TO ME HAVING GALE'S POSITION.\n\n\"Detachment retreat,\" Sophie mumbled. Verena's crush on Garland had driven her into a dramatic, almost dangerous outburst when he and Sophie began... well, he'd used the term courting. How typically discreet of him to not say that Verena was going on some kind of spirit quest to deal with her feelings.\n\nSophie was rereading the letter on the upper deck of a passenger ferry bound for Constitution, enjoying the weak winter sun as it toasted her legs and overly cool feet. Her boots from home had gone missing, and she was still adjusting to the lighter construction of a locally made version. The messageply had come through during the night. She'd scanned it once, quickly, over a hurried breakfast of leftovers: Bettona's apricot cookies and a side of goat's-milk cheese.\n\nThe letter went on:\n\nI HADN'T THOUGHT THEY'D SEND A SHIP FOR ME. WHAT DO THEY CARE IF I'M HEARTBROKEN, RIGHT? SOMETHING ELSE IS UP—THE VERDANII SEEM UNSETTLED. ANNELA'S DOING THIS RITUAL FAST TO SEE IF SHE'S WORTHY TO TAKE OVER WHEN THE ALLMOTHER DIES. MAYBE THE ALLMOTHER'S SICK. IF SO, NOBODY IS ADMITTING IT.\n\nTHEY'RE ALSO ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT ERAGLIDING, THEY'RE THE SAME ONES YOU'VE BEEN ASKING: WHO TOOK GALE'S MURDERERS TO SAN FRANCISCO?\n\nSINCE MOM AND I ARE ON THE SHORT LIST OF PEOPLE WITH THE ABILITY TO TRANSPORT ASSASSINS, MY GUESS IS THEY'RE INVESTIGATING US BOTH.\n\nYOU PROBABLY ALREADY KNOW THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO'D LOVE FOR YOU TO BE THE GUILTY PARTY. GOOD THING YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT ERAGLIDING, RIGHT?\n\nTAKE CARE,\n\nVERENA\n\nIt wasn't the subtlest hint she'd ever seen, but Sophie knew that the warning was a kindness.\n\nAs far as it went, Verena's statement was almost true. Sophie had seen that timepieces were involved in eragliding. She even had one—Beatrice, her birth mother, had given her tacit permission to hang on to Aunt Gale's old pocket watch.\n\nThe Verdanii believed that the power was limited to genetic members of the Feliachild family. As for whether that was true... well, like everything on Stormwrack, it seemed to be more a matter of anecdote and tradition than experimentally verified proof.\n\nTimepieces, Sophie thought, listening for the ticking earworm she'd picked up the previous day. A faint residue of varied clock sounds sifted up from her memory, but nothing stuck.\n\nIS IT JUST FELIACHILDS WHO CAN EG? She added the question to her ever-growing list of mysteries to tackle later. The task for right now, meanwhile, was to get through the ceremony for people taking the Fleet oath.\n\nEverything Sophie had done on Stormwrack, so far, had seemed to require a storm of paperwork and bureaucracy. She piled in, expecting the days and even weeks to pile up, but to her surprise the procedures were simple: she was greenlighted to take the Oath only one week after her audience with Annela.\n\nGranted, it had been an insane stretch of days. She'd visited her lawyer twice and had added to her pile of deadlocked Fleet lawsuits, gathering up a few more cases that might, in time, be solved using fingerprint evidence. She'd begun making notes for a forensic manual in Fleetspeak, some of which boiled down to explaining the how and why of procedures she'd been seeing on TV mysteries since she was a kid.\n\nMuch of the obvious-seeming cop show stuff wasn't in practice here. Wrackers had no concept of preserving a crime scene, much less of taking a meticulous look at everything in it. The whole idea smacked, the bureaucrats told her, of exercising undue curiosity. These comments had been delivered in tones that suggested that curiosity was a muscle to be weakened, through disuse, until it was as flaccid as a piece of veal.\n\nSophie had also made it back to Vaddle to talk to the divers and to pretend to be a drowning victim in a couple of their mermaid rescue drills. With luck, she'd ingratiate herself and someone would volunteer to be her diving partner.\n\nPaging through her notes, she found her latest failed attempt at writing a fancy old-fashioned not-quite-love-letter in reply to Garland. The problem there was finding something to say that didn't sound like (or wasn't, in fact) the lyrics to a pop song:\n\nI believe in miracles, (bom chicka bom) you sexy thing...\n\nYou make my pants want to get up and dance...\n\nI wanna hold your ha-yah-yand...\n\nNot that Garland would know if she plagiarized the Beatles.\n\nIs love a binary state? You either are or you aren't? Is it more of a quantum thing, where you can be in love and out at once? There's a comedian, at home, who says love grows out of the trauma of shared experience...\n\nTrauma. She crossed that out. Definitely not a word for something that was meant to be romantic.\n\nSome prophet once predicted that your best friend would die if you ever fell in love. We met, she died... I'm afraid you believe I'm your one true girl because of an accident of timing.\n\nShe'd never bought into the idea of boy meets girl, true love always. Garland knew that, and seemed to accept it. Even so, she was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate it if she started a letter with \"Dear Obsessive Love Object...\"\n\nSo far, she'd wasted a lot of paper getting nowhere.\n\n\"Constitution ahead! Disembarking passengers, all starboard. Snap to!\"\n\nShe joined the throng transferring from the ferry to the whitewashed, red-trimmed bulk of Constitution, following the crowd until they'd led her to a corral of sorts, an array of thirty folding chairs fenced in by red ribbons. The chairs were mostly filled, presumably with her fellow oath takers. Takees?\n\nAs she scanned the group, Sophie fought back a surge of dismay. She was the oldest person there, by about ten years. Her choice of jeans from home and a cotton tunic meant she was radically underdressed for the occasion. And...\n\nHer heart sank. Her birth father had turned out to see her take the Oath.\n\nClydon Banning was Duelist Adjudicator for the Fleet. When parties to one of the court system's thousands of unresolved lawsuits wanted to grease the judicial wheels, they'd petition him to set up a trial by combat.\n\nSome of the fights were ceremonial—negotiated out-of-court settlements, basically, with a perfunctory clash of swords. Others were deadly earnest. Duelists could be appointed to weigh in on either side, if a contest was judged unfair.\n\nCly could appoint anyone to fight the duels, or he could take them himself.\n\nBasically, he had a license to kill.\n\nHer birth father was whippy, handsome, and dressed impeccably, as usual, in a black Fleet uniform with a red and gold cape. A big wood chipper of a sword hung at his side. He bowed formally to Sophie as she filed in with the other candidates.\n\nSophie tensed, unable to make herself bow back. Pretty much the most important question in her notebook was IS CLY A SOCIOPATH?\n\nThe memory rose again: Cly, killing the Incannis crew, one after another, until nobody was left but the bandit, Kev, who'd grabbed her.\n\nIf someone who is a sociopath gets a job ruling on criminal court cases and executing the losers, doesn't that essentially make him a variety of serial killer? She hadn't even dared to write that one down.\n\nSwallowing, she took her assigned seat, turning her back on her father. She tried to listen as a wizened and uniformed old lady lectured her and the rest of the class about the solemnity of oath taking.\n\n\"You must put the rule of the Fleet above your own inclinations and nature,\" the woman droned. \"Keeping a century of peace afloat weighs more, in the balance, than your happiness. Than your very lives.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The peace of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one. The mangled Star Trek quote arose unbidden, threatening to make Sophie giggle.\n\nShe remembered Annela saying, You shouldn't do this.\n\nToo bad, Annela. I'm not going to screw this up.\n\nSeas, I miss Bram. Times five.\n\n\"People of the Fleet, stand and take the Oath.\"\n\nHer voice was one among dozens: \"I pledge my mind to the service of the Nations, my heart to the Nine Seas, my bones and skin to the ships of the Fleet. I promise to be faithful in all things to the rule of law, the Nations, the Fleet Compact, and the Cessation of Hostilities.\"\n\nSoon the audience was cheering. Sophie braced herself to face Cly.\n\nAs usual, he was holding court; every cadet who didn't have parents to hug after the big ceremony was approaching him, hoping to catch a word. He cleared them away with a gracious celebrity's wave as Sophie approached.\n\nNo embrace this time, no kiss on the top of the head. Sophie didn't know how she looked, but there was steel in his gaze.\n\nThe last time they'd seen each other, she had embarrassed him at a party attended by the social cream of his hometown.\n\n\"Congratulations, daughter. This makes me very happy.\" There was a trace of the customary warmth in Cly's voice, that affection that made it so hard for her to entirely write him off.\n\nWhat if she was wrong?\n\nThere were things she could ask him.\n\nNot here, though. Not amid a throng of admirers.\n\n\"Does it?\" she said, realizing he'd been waiting as she churned through her conversational options.\n\n\"Why should it not? You're becoming a woman of the Fleet, a member of civilized society—\"\n\nShe must have made a face.\n\n\"No rapprochement today, I see,\" he said softly.\n\nShe swallowed. \"What do you want, Cly?\"\n\nThe warmth coming from him was gone, suddenly. He held out a packet of papers bound in a black folder.\n\nShe opened the folder and felt her knees turn to water. \"Is this is a Sylvanner birth certificate?\"\n\n\"Proof of citizenship. You are Sophie Hansa of Sylvanna now.\" A hint of warning sharpened his voice. \"To say otherwise would be a lie.\"\n\n\"Even if I chuck this overboard?\"\n\n\"You are of Stormwrack, a daughter of Sylvanna, and lawful expert witness to the Fleet. Offering disrespect to your motherland's writs will not change who you are in the eyes of the law.\"\n\n\"You know I didn't want this!\"\n\nThat does it. I'm getting the whole Fleet code zapped into my brain the minute I get off this ship.\n\n\"I was, initially, prepared to respect your wishes regarding Sylvanna.\" Cly lived in the Fleet, but back on his home island he had an Old South–style estate, complete with fruit orchards, ostrich ranching, beehives... and frigging slaves to tend to it all. \"As you've taken it to mind to introduce adversarial elements to our relationship—\"\n\n\"You went and made me Sylvanner as payback for one argument?\"\n\nMaybe I should ask him if he screws his slaves, right here in front of the whole assembly.\n\nI've got to shake that idea. Beatrice says he doesn't.\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous,\" Cly said. \"I declined to ask the population office to do me the immense favor of withholding status papers they were preparing for you as a matter of course.\"\n\n\"Oh, and you're not enjoying this at all.\"\n\n\"Believe me, child, were I petty enough to seek revenge for the appalling scene you created at the Highsummer Festival, you would be in no doubt of the situation.\"\n\nShe looked up at him, simmering. There was something in that phrase— \"you would be in no doubt\" —that smelled of threat.\n\n\"You need the passport. Your father is Sylvanner. Stop trying to deny something neither of us can change.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said. \"We're helpless pawns of fate.\"\n\nCly went on: \"As I've been reduced to a courier... your travel visa from Convenor Gracechild is also in the folder.\"\n\n\"I can go home?\" She reopened the folder, interested now.\n\n\"You might wait,\" he said. \"Kev Lidman, the bandit from Incannis, is coming to trial soon.\"\n\nHer throat closed. \"Do I have to be there? To be a witness, I mean?\"\n\n\"Do you have something to say about his assault upon you?\"\n\nShe shook her head—too quickly, perhaps.\n\n\"I'm empowered to tell the court what happened,\" he said.\n\nShe could just hear it: May it please the court, I slaughtered one bandit, then I killed another, and I got a bit of the third one on my shoe—terribly inconvenient, don't you know, getting gore out of the leather. As for the final miscreant, he was so scared he tried to use Sophie as a human shield...\n\n\"Annela wanted me to ask him some questions,\" she said.\n\n\"You need only visit him in prison. As for the trial, that can certainly proceed without you, if you'd rather be elsewhere.\"\n\n\"I'd definitely rather.\" She all but stroked the travel visa, letting the idea of home—home! —wash away the bloody roil of memories.\n\nCly took in the deck, the celebrating cadets, and their families. \"Speaking of your Verdanii relations, I note they seem to be boycotting this ceremony.\"\n\n\"Don't try to distract me from the point.\"\n\n\"Which is...?\"\n\nOh. She tried to remember. \"Can it be undone? The Sylvanner citizenship?\"\n\nThis, at least, got a startled—and obviously genuine—reaction. \"Not that I'm aware. Sophie, the question of who you are, your value as a human being—you cannot think it rests on the peculiarities of my home nation. Or your mother's, for that matter.\"\n\n\"Will you look into it?\"\n\nHe laughed. \"Why should I?\"\n\nI am learning Fleet code as soon as I can find a spellscribe with the right color of crayon.\n\n\"You wouldn't have any other fun surprises in store for me, would you?\" she asked.\n\nA \"Halloo!\" from the direction of the taxikite dock interrupted her. Their lawyer, the sleepy-eyed, middle-aged Mensalohm Bimisi, came padding down the deck.\n\nSophie had never seen Mensalohm out of his office; she had begun to question whether he ever left it. He was a soft-looking fellow with a sweet face, a round head covered in white-blond stubble, and a savage reputation among litigators.\n\nNow he inclined his head in lieu of bowing. \"Kir Sophie. Your Honor. Sorry I missed the ceremony. I've never had the gift of punctuality.\"\n\n\"No prob,\" she said.\n\n\"That is indeed a grave flaw,\" Cly said at the same time.\n\n\"You've already changed, Sophie. Am I later than I think?\"\n\n\"She didn't dress,\" Cly growled, but Mensalohm pressed his lips together, not quite hiding amusement.\n\nThere weren't many people prepared to needle the fearsome Cly Banning. Sophie gave him a quick hug.\n\n\"Which of us are you seeking, Bimisi?\" Cly asked.\n\n\"Both, as it happens. I'm trying to be light on my feet for a change. I have papers regarding your divorce, Your Honor, as well as some items for Sophie. It's just a question of who wants to take me on first.\"\n\n\"I hardly need you to walk me through a nuptial dissolution.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly plucked the folder from his hand.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 48 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Daughter, if we're done...?\"\n\nAsk him the other thing, her inner voice said. Forget about whether he sleeps with his slaves. Ask him about his best pal Captain Beck and her magical prosthetic hand.\n\nShe couldn't force the words out.\n\n\"Yes? Then I can only hope your feelings about me soften, in time.\"\n\nWith that, Cly bowed and went back to his adoring fans.\n\n\"I'd thought you two were getting along,\" Mensalohm said.\n\n\"When? For the ten minutes after I met him?\"\n\n\"Love is always windy when it bridges port and starboard,\" he said.\n\nShe wasn't in the mood for platitudes. \"The captain of his sailing vessel lost her arm as a kid. She's got this prosthetic... I don't know what you'd call it. A ghost arm...\"\n\n\"The arm came from a slave?\" At her surprised look, Mensalohm said, \"It's a common enough spell. He may have been compensated in some way. Did you talk to the donor?\"\n\n\"Didn't know I needed to, at the time.\"\n\n\"Have you asked His Honor?\"\n\n\"No.\" She sighed.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"He gave me a Sylvanner passport.\"\n\nMensalohm laid a hand on her shoulder. \"It is who you are, legally speaking.\"\n\n\"Legally schmeegally. I'm thinking I need to learn the Fleet code of law.\"\n\n\"You mentioned that in your note. For your institute? Or the bandit's trial? Or just to more effectively frustrate His Honor?\"\n\n\"His Honor's schemes. I'm not trying to frustrate him, just to be annoying. If he's going to go fixing me up with portside passports whenever I cross him... Plus there's the issue of me not tripping over—\" She stopped herself from saying \"dumb,\" remembering Annela's comment about her having contempt for Fleet law. \"Over the rules, every time I open my mouth.\"\n\nMensalohm considered it. \"You could, I suppose. If you mean what I think, it's an expensive scrip.\"\n\n\"I'm told I have a budget now.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, there's a fat invoice in there from me to the court. Your contract's a big catch, I'm happy to say. But a complete grasp of Fleet law is a heavy intention. To absorb a decade of learning in a matter of hours—no reputable scribe will embark on it without assurance you aren't already loaded.\"\n\nMagic had a quality that Wrackers referred to in terms of weight—there was a limit to what a person could bear without becoming physically or mentally ill. \"What kind of assurance?\"\n\n\"A list of intentions you're already carrying. I can prepare the documents.\"\n\nMore red tape. \"There's only the one spell.\"\n\n\"Get your mother to affirm it. She's the only person who knew of your existence until recently, am I right?\"\n\n\"Her and Gale.\"\n\n\"She'll need to vouch for Gale Feliachild's not having enchanted you. You'll be seeing Beatrice anyway.\"\n\n\"I will?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Divorce papers, by definition, come in pairs.\" He handed her a packet identical to Cly's. \"Would you mind delivering these? I gather you're headed back to her mysterious outland refuge.\"\n\nShe nodded, taking it, and then walking him back to where the ferries were coming to take people to other parts of the Fleet. By the time he was gone, the oath-taking party had broken up. Most of the newly sworn kids had gone off with family and friends to celebrate. Scatterings of confetti, seaweed based and biodegradable, were sprinkled on the deck.\n\n\"Faithful to the rule of law and the Cessation,\" she murmured, feeling a low-key sense of melancholy as she took in the seagoing city around her. For just a moment, the weight of responsibility was crushing, as if one hundred and nine years of peace here on Stormwrack was really hers to preserve.\n\nBut that was grandiose. She was an outsider, passport or no. One who was going home—to her brother, her parents, and a world with ready electricity.\n\nShe cracked open her journal, found the messageply, and jotted Bram and Verena both a note: HEADED BACK TO SFO!", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Produce one hundred and fifteen sentences as a continuation. Note: Story may reference established characters/events.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "LOOK YOUR ANTAGONISTE IN THE FACE WHEREVER POSSIBLE: DECLARE FEUD OPENLY, AND DEMAND SURRENDER. NO HONOR BLOWS IN THE SAILS OF THE LICKSPITTLE, THE BACKSTABBER, THE BASE TRAITRE, OR THE BELLY-CRAWLING DOG.\n\nRECOGNIZE, EVEN REWARD, THE PROWESS OF THOSE WHO HAVE DEFEATED YOU, IF THEY ARE SO FOOLISH AS TO ALLOW YOU TO LIVE. SHOULD THEY CONFRONT YOU AGAIN, PURSUE THEM TO THE ENDS OF THE KNOWN WORLD, TO THE OUTLANDS, TO THE VERY STARS, AND DO NOT CEASE TO CLAMOR GUERRE UPON THEM UNTIL NAUGHT IS LEFT OF THEIR MEMORY BUT COLD ASH ON THE WIND.\n\nKrispos, the memorician Cly had hired for her as a weird sort of gift, was booked into the cabin next door to Sophie's rented bunk. He was, as usual, nose deep in a book. Memoricians were speed-readers with perfect recall; he was as close as Stormwrack came to having something like a flash drive.\n\nBecause half his cache was filled with obscure poetry Sophie couldn't use, Krispos was also trying to make himself useful by acting as a sort of assistant.\n\nAs she returned to the cabin, he handed over a slim bundle of notes—a sort of executive summary on blood feuds—lettered like a medieval manuscript, sans gold, in a coil notebook she'd brought from home. \"You wrote this?\" she asked.\n\n\"I found a spellscribe to intend me for speedwriting.\" He had been sitting with his feet in a small basin of foaming water; bending, he toweled each of them dry with care. The feet had no nails—it was a mutation, occurring naturally in about one fifth of the people here.\n\nThere was nothing natural about the scars on the bottoms of his feet, furrows like the marks of enormous teeth, tracks of scar tissue that he'd flatly refused to discuss.\n\nDon't stare. Instead of dwelling on his wounds, she said, \"It looks like the inscription hurt.\"\n\nHe raised his head, huffing a little as he strapped his second sandal. \"Does it?\"\n\n\"One of your eyes is bloodshot.\" And you're haggard, she didn't add.\n\n\"It wasn't too bad.\" He laid a finger over the eye. \"And the notes—are they useful?\"\n\nShe looked at a page.\n\nACT OPENLY, CHALLENGE YOUR FOES, BUT NEVER LAY YOURSELF OPEN TO EASY DEFEAT. HANG A SWORD AT YOUR HIP SO YOUR OPPONENT KNOWS YOUR WILL BEARS A SHARPENED BLADE. IF THEY DO NOT MARK THE KNIFE IN YOUR BOOT, THE FAULT LIES IN THEIR GRASP.\n\n\"Very useful,\" she said, trying to keep her voice breezy even though the hair had come up on her arms.\n\nKrispos briefed her on his day's reading: three hundred pages on the development of magic in the years before the Fleet; a history of the Sylvanna Spellscrip Institute, which controlled patents for a significant number of the world's most important spells; and a long list of the ships reported missing or sunk by mishap in the past three or so years.\n\nBy way of trade, she handed him the bureaucratic pile establishing them as expert witnesses within the court system.\n\n\"Now to prove our worth,\" she said. \"I'm gonna go home and get what we need for the fingerprint operation. But I want to keep working on these sinkings. Can you put together a list of commonalities between the sunk vessels? Anything that's the same for all three? Oh—and someone called the monster a wood fright. Did you learn anything about that?\"\n\n\"Frightmaking is an intentionally lost art. It's a matter of treaty. According to the Spellscrip Institute histories, giant frog frights attacked Tug Island sixty years ago. Whatever is known might be forbidden.\"\n\n\"Get whatever you can find. You're doing great, Krispos. Outstanding work.\"\n\nA bright smile lit his creased, pale face. The bloodshot eye made it a little gruesome.\n\nSophie managed to meditate her way into sleep that evening, but excitement had her up well before dawn, rattling around her tiny cabin like a pea in a can. She dressed and packed her things far too early, leaving everything she wasn't bringing with her to clutter up a corner of Krispos's cabin. Then she went up to the main deck so she could stretch and wait for the tardy November sun to rise over the Fleet.\n\nShepherd prowled to the rear, shining a spotlight on the seas and on the straggling ships chasing the bigger blocks of the city-size convoy. Gulls circled restaurant ships and fishers, calling out as the sky lightened.\n\nSophie was on the first ferry to Constitution, one of a great crowd of commuters: Fleet personnel, government workers, and diplomatic officials arriving for what they called the dawn shift. A couple of cadets beside her speculated quietly about the sinking of Kitesharp and the others. Their voices held a note of tension. The taller of the two, a young octer, insisted that nobody in the government would care to find out who was responsible.\n\n\"The bandits from this summer are dead, aren't they?\" his companion replied.\n\n\"Was a Sylvanner saw to that, nobody starboard,\" the octer said. \"And they haven't yet brought the survivor to trial—\" He broke off, apparently having noticed that Sophie was listening.\n\nUsually, traveling between Stormwrack and the land the people here called Erstwhile was something she did with Verena. With her half sister on Verdanii, it fell to Annela's assistant to do the honors.\n\nIt was Bettona who had deported Sophie the first time she arrived in Stormwrack. Another of the Feliachilds, she was a delicate stick of a woman, neither as voluptuous as Beatrice nor as tough and weathered as Aunt Gale had been. The only genetic feature they all shared was the slightly enlarged brown eyes—anime eyes, Bram called them—that Sophie had inherited from her birth mother.\n\nA smell of baking wafted through the front rooms of Annela's office—more anise and apricot—as Bettona bowed, bidding Sophie welcome. \"I can transit you in about ten minutes.\"\n\n\"Waiting on the angle of the sun?\" Sophie asked. Verena had mentioned this once.\n\nBettona nodded, holding out a cup of tea. \"This is a traditional libation for traveling.\"\n\nSophie took a sip, expecting something like chai but finding just a breath of liquor in the mix, which was otherwise all rose hips and cinnamon. \"The first time I came here, it was spontaneous—no waiting, no angle.\"\n\n\"Kir Gale had been stabbed, hadn't she?\" She offered a tray of the anise and apricot biscuits; they were oven warm. \"And you landed in open ocean.\"\n\n\"Admittedly, that sucked.\" Sophie nibbled a biscuit, trying to hide her expression. She was excited, and she had no poker face whatsoever. Usually, Annela turned up and ended these conversations before they could properly begin.\n\nPlay it cool, she thought. \"Okay, but when you sent me back that first time, I ended up on my butt in an alley near Beatrice's, around where I'd vanished before.\"\n\n\"You jerked away from me, as I recall.\" There was no rancor in Bettona's tone. \"Nothing like that will happen again.\"\n\n\"Unless I move, presumably?\"\n\nBettona nodded.\n\n\"Where is Annela?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"The convenor is occupied.\" Bettona's inflection was neutral, giving away nothing.\n\nStill fasting then. \"But she's okay?\"\n\nAnother nod.\n\nSophie had been expecting the usual scrutiny: search and seizure, dire warnings about secret-keeping and all her so-called spy equipment. She'd brought a bag of stuff—data chips for her camera, along with biological samples and a variety of things Bram had requested—but she'd been expecting to have to turn it all over to Annela.\n\nAh, but now I'm Oath Girl, she remembered. If I spill the news about Stormwrack to anyone on Earth, I can be prosecuted.\n\nAnnela wants me to step out of line. She said so.\n\nNever mind that. Things to learn.\n\nSophie gave Bettona her friendliest smile. \"We're genetic cousins. You're a Feliachild, right? You've got those big eyes that seem to be a family trait, and you can eraglide.\"\n\nSlight surprise from Bettona. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"You're not another aunt, are you?\"\n\n\"No. My father and your grandmother are siblings.\"\n\nA grandmother and a great-uncle. Sophie's breath caught. \"Are siblings? They're alive?\"\n\n\"Neneh. Apologies.\" Bettona shook her head. \"Ennatrice Feliachild died by ordeal, years ago. My father, Pharmann—it was his heart. Last Febbraio.\"\n\n\"Oh. Sorry.\" Died of ordeal. And Annela was ordealing. \"Does that mean Annela's in real danger?\"\n\n\"The convenor is strong.\" That neutrality again. \"I am sure she will come through the dark and into wonders.\"\n\nSophie took a closer look at the woman. She was expensively clad, as any Verdanii official would be. Healthy looking, but not an athlete. She was left-handed. Her age appeared to be midthirties. \"Are they grooming you to replace Annela?\"\n\nBettona smiled thinly. \"The convenor is irreplaceable.\"\n\n\"If she ends up Allmother, which I gather is like being president, she'll go back to Verdanii?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"If not you, who gets her job here?\"\n\n\"I'm not considered any great gift to the civil service,\" Bettona said. \"Generally this position, convenor, goes to a Gracechild.\"\n\nShe's been found wanting. The Verdanii do that a lot. Okay, this is awkward... \"What do you government types do here when you're not working? Is there a book club or what?\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"There must be a few hundred people just like you. Young, up and coming, talented, connected, away from home, with a boss who isn't ready to retire.\"\n\n\"The Fleet becomes home, after a time.\"\n\n\"Do you knit? Shop? Raise and trade tropical fish? I can see that you garden: you've got a little pollen in your hair and some dirt under your nails. But that's kind of a cultural requirement, isn't it? Verdanii are big on the farming.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bettona let out a dry-sounding laugh. \"I do my customary duty by the Breadbasket food cooperative, yes. Now you mention it, there is... I wouldn't have called it a club, but the younger functionaries of the starboard side do gather and socialize informally.\"\n\n\"Starboard. The free-state folks have one group and the slavers drink somewhere else. That makes sense.\"\n\n\"Yes, the portside bureaucrats keep to themselves.\"\n\nSomething about that made Sophie think of the conversation she'd overheard on her commute, the young octer complaining that nobody would do anything about the sinking of Kitesharp and the other vessels.\n\nBettona broke in on that thought before it was fully formed. \"It's time, Sophie. Stand here, please. And—\"\n\n\"No jerking away.\" Sophie obeyed. \"Could you bring me to your not-club sometime? Would that be allowed?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Bettona said. She was concentrating now on a tiny gold pocket watch. As before, she set it on Sophie's palm.\n\nSophie felt a rush of heat, as if her heart had suddenly pumped a wash of blood directly to her face. For a second, her vision swam. The ticking of the timepiece was very loud; each stroke tapped against her temples like drumsticks. Tick, tick, tick.\n\nThat's what I was hearing before, she thought, and as she listened, the sound doubled. She could hear the bigger clock in Annela's office, keeping time with the smaller one. It started here...\n\nHer vision cleared and the ground steadied underfoot. She, her dive tanks, and the bundles of paperwork were in her birth mother's basement in San Francisco. She listened as the tick tick bong of the grandfather clock striking nine replaced the sounds of Annela's wall clock and Bettona's timepiece.\n\nIt's not an earworm. I'm actually hearing all three clocks.\n\nShe was alone in a stranger's house. It was a weird feeling, as if she were a burglar.\n\n\"Hello?\" She stepped out into the hall, peering in through the first open door. A converted laundry room, from the look of it—she could see the space where the washer and dryer had sat, and a barely used sink. Near the door was a big cupboard labeled \"Garments\" in both English and, interestingly, Fleetspeak. She cracked the door. It held generic street clothes: stuff for men, stuff for women, and a bunch of unisex sweaters and rain coats.\n\nIn case someone comes from Stormwrack dressed in a weird outfit or a Fleet uniform. The thought took her to a memory of Garland Parrish, dressed in one of Bram's leather jackets.\n\n\"Rowr,\" she murmured.\n\nThe rest of the room was dominated by a cabinet with seven cupboards, each with a locking door, none actually locked. Sophie opened the first door. Inside was a picture of Verena's pewter timepiece, the one Sophie thought of as the pancake clock.\n\nShe opened the rest, one after another. Each had a few personal-looking items, more clothes, and a sketch of a clock. One depicted the clock she'd seen Beatrice use to come home from Stormwrack. Bettona's tiny pocket watch was there, too.\n\nThere was a sketch of Gale's watch, which Sophie had found and had yet to return.\n\nSeven cupboards. Seven eragliding Feliachilds? She thought again about John Coine and the guns he'd bought in San Francisco. She had taken the Oath now; Convenor Brawn had offered to tell her about that. She took photos of each door.\n\nA door slammed upstairs, startling her. She jumped, wondering if she should just try to sneak out of the house. Because, you know, she was so good at tiptoeing around. Crawl not behind the back of your antagoniste, she thought, remembering the pirate customs. As advice went, it wasn't bad. Forcing a smile, she walked back out into the hallway. \"Hello?\"\n\nFootfalls sounded overhead. A big barrel of a man, fiftyish and fuzzy haired, clad in a white shirt and suspenders, rounded the corner and peered down at her from the top of the stairs.\n\nHe broke into a grin. \"You'd be Sophie.\"\n\nEnglish! A surge of feeling brought tears to her eyes. Hearing a real American accent, after weeks of speaking Fleet, seemed to do this to her every time.\n\n\"I'm Merro Vanko, Verena's father. This...\" He turned, revealing a second man, laden with grocery bags, standing behind him. \"Is my son, Shad.\"\n\nShad was African-American, in his early twenties, with a physique that put Sophie in mind of a baseball player. Sophie realized she had seen a picture of him once, with Gale and Verena. \"Hi. Um, I have papers for Beatrice.\"\n\n\"Beebee's not here,\" Merro said.\n\nBeebee? \"When's she back? I need to talk to her, if it's possible.\"\n\n\"It isn't,\" Shad said. \"One of her cancer babies is dying today. She's with the family.\"\n\nCancer babies. Beatrice's Verdanii relatives thought of her as a histrionic wimp, but here in San Francisco she ran a pediatric hospice. That had to take a soul of iron.\n\nMerro said, \"I know she's expecting to see you. Do you want to hang around and wait? It could be a day or so. If you don't have anywhere to go, we have a guest room.\"\n\n\"No. Thanks though. I'll leave my number, if that works,\" Sophie said. \"I need to see my brother. But I'd love to get together with her. Or all of you. I don't mean to rush off...\"\n\nShe'd only been living among the overly mannered Fleet folk for six weeks, but apparently it had gummed up her sense of what was polite, how not to hurt any feelings. Now she floundered. What did you say?\n\nIf finding out he had a stepdaughter he'd never known about had been difficult for Merro, he had either processed it already or was great at hiding his emotions. \"It's complicated. I know.\"\n\nSophie opened her notebook, pulled out her Bram page, and wrote HERE! on it. Then she tore out an ordinary scrap of paper, jotted down her mobile number, and handed it over.\n\n\"Speaking of a phone, do you need to use our landline?\" Merro asked.\n\n\"Nope. My brother's got a phone for me.\" She waved the messageply, which was already showing a reply: I'M IN THE CAFÉ AROUND THE CORNER FROM B'S.\n\n\"You and yours know all about us, I guess,\" Shad said.\n\n\"Shad,\" Merro said. A warning?\n\nPlastering on a bright smile, Sophie shook hands with her... birth stepfather? And brother? \"Maybe I'll see you?\"\n\nMerro nodded. \"You're welcome any time.\"\n\nShe all but raced to the café and flung herself into her brother's arms.\n\n\"Holy crap,\" he said. \"It's good to see you.\"\n\n\"Five good!\"\n\n\"Well... three.\"\n\n\"Only three?\" She pretended to be insulted.\n\n\"Not every feeling can be full-on, Sofe,\" he said, but he'd given her a good once-over and was beaming. \"Leave room to dial it up.\"\n\n\"When has that ever worked?\"\n\nSometime in the past couple of weeks, Bram had gotten a haircut. The tan he'd picked up while sailing from Sylvanna to Issle Morta—roughly the distance from Memphis, Tennessee, to Seattle—and back again had begun to fade. He hadn't done anything about getting the pearl removed from underneath his thumbnail, and he wasn't wearing glasses or contacts...\n\n\"You get your eyes lasered?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"And you're hitting the gym?\"\n\n\"Running less, lifting more. Something called functional training.\"\n\n\"That's very athletic of you.\" Bram had always had a grudging attitude toward exercise. Maintenance and upkeep, he called it—a task performed out of a sense of obligation to keep his body running, without any tie-in with fun.\n\n\"Sailing's strenuous, Ducks. I want twenty-twenty vision and more muscle.\"\n\n\"Don't call me Ducks,\" she said happily as he handed her a coffee and a slice of lemon pound cake in a waxed paper envelope and led her out in search of the car. \"You look good, Bramble.\"\n\n\"Happy, healthy, and wrestling the mysteries of the universe.\"\n\n\"Still single?\"\n\n\"No. In six months I've married and spawned two kids. What do you think?\"\n\n\"Just asking.\" For Tonio, she didn't add.\n\n\"Come on, Sofe, what have you learned?\"\n\nShe decided not to lead with her glancing encounter with Verena's father and half brother. Instead, getting into the passenger seat, she mentally rifled through her bag of camera chips. \"Pick a discipline.\"\n\n\"Biology.\"\n\n\"I've got a list going of animal species I'm positive we haven't got here in Erstwhile. I got to know a taxidermist and he's going to start saving blood and hair samples for me. Supposedly to start an archive for the court, but maybe one day—\"\n\n\"Maybe one day we can get someone to run the DNA?\"\n\n\"Dare to dream, right? And I'm collecting and studying unusual feathers, because they're light.\"\n\n\"No plants?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Seeds and some more pressed leaves. It's been tougher. The Fleet's reviewing procedures on anything that might get loose and propagate on an island where it doesn't belong.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 26 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Especially now, I bet.\" He, Sophie, and Verena had proved that Sylvanna's nearest neighbor was infecting Sylvanna's swamps with a vine that was a variant of kudzu. It had blown up into a political scandal. \"What was the best?\"\n\nShe leaned back, savoring her latte and pound cake. \"Fall's coming and we've been making our way southeast, toward where the Horn of Africa would be. And there've been these—well, I'll show you. But remember the bevvies?\"\n\n\"How could I forget?\" The seagoing serpents had looked like Chinese dragons and had the ability to sing chords that amplified human emotions. It was their influence that had nearly driven Verena—who had been at the peak of her heartbreak over Garland—to fling herself into the sea.\n\n\"They shed their skin in the fall. All those huge iridescent scales, and a ton of biomatter. They pick up mussels and bits of seaweed and chunks of dead fish. They're filthy like you wouldn't believe; they don't even look like the same creature.\n\n\"They all descend to the bottom of the ocean in a specific location—I have the latitude and longitude, so we can figure out the equivalent map coordinates here on Earth—and they inflate their skin to break it loose, to shed it. These fleshy balloons float to the surface, all this food—\"\n\n\"Calorie bonanza,\" Bram said.\n\nSophie nodded. \"Fish, mostly tuna and that thing called butterfish, show up. Then birds come in to catch the fish. There are algal blooms. The sea turns green, and the birds come out of the water stained green from their dives, and at the end of the cycle the skins get torn and it turns out they're full of little golden bevvies, tiny and toxic. They frisk in all that soup, whistling—\"\n\nThey caught an exit to the freeway, and displacement hit her, a million things at once: the speed of the cars, set against the stillness of being on land rather than on the rolling deck of ship after ship after ship, the flavor of oily petrochemicals in the air. She groped for Bram's phone, hit Play, and giggled a little maniacally as a Mika song obligingly burbled out of the car stereo.\n\nCommercial electronics and billboards and jet engines and MRIs and television—\n\n\"What are you thinking?\" Bram asked, and she realized she'd stopped telling him about the bevvies.\n\n\"Is there an opposite to homesickness?\" It was a weird feeling—less like pain, more like being spaced out, or stunned.\n\n\"Homewellness?\" he said. \"Good timing, anyway.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Because we're here,\" he said, taking the exit to his place.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "SEGMENT CONTINUATION:\nLength: 8 sentences\nStyle: A. M. Dellamonica\nGenre: fantasy, pirates\nContext: Part of ongoing narrative", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cornell and Regina Hansa were career academics who had adopted Sophie from Beatrice twenty-five years earlier. They didn't know she'd found Beatrice and Cly—and she couldn't tell them, or anyone, because telling them about her birth parents would mean telling them about Stormwrack.\n\nOh, yeah, this isn't gonna be tricky.\n\nThe ironclad closed adoption had, as far as she could tell, suited her parents just fine. They'd never wanted to help Sophie explore her past.\n\nBram got out of the way as their mother swept in, crushing Sophie into a hug. \"Oh! Honey, we've missed you.\"\n\nShe was tearing up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you guys okay?\"\n\n\"Dad?\" Bram said, echoing her question.\n\n\"Unscathed,\" Cornell said. \"We were out when the alarm company called.\"\n\n\"Police catch them?\"\n\n\"Her, apparently. Missed by the skin of her teeth.\"\n\nA sledgehammer lay just beyond the door.\n\nSophie took it in: a well-used, dirty tool. Splashes of old paint adorned its handle, and there was clay ground into its head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Picked up, maybe, from a nearby construction site? What if her parents had been home when whoever it was used that to smash in the door? She tried to swallow. Her throat felt like it was full of sand.\n\n\"That's not very subtle,\" Bram said.\n\n\"Why bother with subtlety?\" Regina said.\n\nSophie turned a slow circle, taking in the yard and the police. \"They didn't take anything?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm hoping you can tell us.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bettel ushered Sophie through the kitchen; Dad gave her a smile and an arm squeeze as she went past.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Your parents tidied up after the first time, but—\" The inspector was making straight for her bedroom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Teeth!\" Sophie's possessions had been strewn out into the hall.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The intruder had smashed in the walls.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Make sure to seamlessly include 'Ran down the hall, right through the screen, and jumped down to the yard. Outran the police dog. Whoever it was, she was very fit.' in your answer", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two floorboards had been pried up. So had the windowsill.\n\nSearching for something.\n\nIt wasn't her biosamples—Bram had most of those. The few she had left here, a few slides and packets of seeds, lay untouched among the scattered stuff.\n\n\"She got out using your parents' balcony,\" said Bettel. \"Ran down the hall, right through the screen, and jumped down to the yard. Outran the police dog. Whoever it was, she was very fit.\"\n\n\"You're positive it was a woman?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Instead of replying, Bettel said, \"Any idea what she was after?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie could feel her face turning red. She knew, all right, and she was a terrible liar.\n\nStay in the vicinity of the truth, then.\n\n\"I'm a videographer,\" she said. \"The most valuable thing I own is hardware. Dive equipment, cameras. For making footage of...\"\n\nWooden, ship-destroying monsters?\n\nPink narwhals? Red froglike amphibians with tails?\n\n\"Animals,\" she finished. \"Engaged in animal behavior.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anything proprietary in your video files?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't steal it. Anyway, my material's backed up online. If someone wanted it, they'd be better off hiring—\"\n\n\"You think this was a hired job?\"\n\nDammit! For the briefest of seconds, she wished she could just give the inspector the patented Wracker Don't care, shut up, don't be so curious brush-off. \"I dunno. But hiring, you know, hackers.\"\n\n\"You've been out of town and out of touch, I understand.\"\n\n\"I didn't know this was happening.\" She shot a dirty look through the window at Bram, who was in the yard, chatting with the dog handler.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I asked for your movements—ports, dates, countries visited?\"\n\nThis was a trap. Her U. S. passport was among the heaps on the floor, where both of them could see it.\n\nOh, this looks suspicious. What to say?\n\n\"This kind of search isn't a random hunt for jewelry or some easy-to-sell music player.\" Bettel's gaze was all-encompassing, like the searchlight on Shepherd.\n\n\"Look,\" Sophie said. \"If it was my house and not my folks', I'd say search the place top to bottom. Bring in sniffer dogs, bomb dogs, whatever...\"\n\n\"But?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But my mom's a bit of a hippie, if you know what I mean.\"\n\n\"I'm not interested in your parents' weed stash. You're the focus here, Sophie. It's your room they've searched. Twice.\"\n\n\"My point is there was nothing to find. I'm not smuggling drugs. Or doing anything—smuggly. Promise.\"\n\n\"Why would you bring that up, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Because it's what you seem to suspect.\"\n\nBettel joined her at the window, pointing at her parents, who were down on the lawn with Bram. \"What happens when whoever she is comes back?\"\n\n\"There's nothing I can tell you. I'm sorry.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She probably looked every bit as worried and terrified as she felt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Or maybe she looked shifty and guilty.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Five guilty.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "However she looked, Bettel seemed to read her intention to keep her mouth shut.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Okay, Sophie. If you change your mind, give me a call.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I will. Thanks. Um, did you send a fingerprint tech?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raised eyebrows. \"He's in the master bedroom. Why?\"\n\nSophie made her way down the hall. Her parents' room was untouched, but for a few clumps of mud and the screen door being knocked out. She took a whiff of the air, scenting for the reek of the assassins that killed Gale.\n\nPolice saw the thief running away, she reminded herself. Nobody had called it a freakish monster with claws.\n\nAn athlete. Her half sister, Verena, fit that bill.\n\nShe shoved the thought to the back of her mind, along with the guilt seeping from its source, and focused instead on the uniformed officer with a miniature feather duster who was taking prints off the glass of the French doors.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "/set_word_count: sophie, frequency: 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was easier to say sorry than to ask permission. Sophie raised her camera and took shots—including a close-up—of the powdered prints on the glass.\n\nHe glanced over his shoulder. \"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"I've got a shiny new interest in crime science,\" Sophie told him. \"That powder—graphite, right?\"\n\nThe print technician nodded.\n\n\"Do you only identify prints using computers nowadays? Is there a room somewhere where guys with indexes and card catalogs and magnifying glasses do the work?\"\n\nThe tech laughed. \"Mostly computers. Why?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm researching Victorian procedures for print identification.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(authors note, Mandatory: Your text must contain 'sophie' 2 times exactly)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He went back to dusting. \"I know a retired instructor you could talk to.\"\n\nBettel had followed her. Upon hearing this, she threw up her hands and strode away.\n\nSophie pocketed the fingerprint tech's contact info and rejoined her family. Mom had already decided a house full of cops meant they had to go out for dinner. \"Any excuse to not cook,\" she declared.\n\n\"Sounds good to me,\" Sophie said, and soon they were on their way, in two cars, to a Greek place in the Mission District.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie hadn't realized how much her diet had been limited to seafood until someone offered her moussaka. Restaurant fare was amazing. Normal industrial window glass was amazing. A world that ran on electricity and Wi-Fi, without a single flicker of spellscrip anywhere in sight? So amazing.\n\nAs was having a dad who taught poetry instead of wading around in puddles of blood that he'd shed himself.\n\nHer delight in all the conveniences and familiar comforts didn't change the fact that family dinner made for an awkward couple of hours. Bram had obviously convinced their parents that there was no point in quizzing the two of them about where they had been vanishing off to.\n\nUnfortunately, that left a yawning chasm in the conversation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie cajoled a good fifteen minutes of national politics and local news out of her father.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then everyone fell silent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That police detective thinks you're smuggling drugs,\" her father said.\n\nSophie snorted.\n\n\"I told her rare animal parts were, statistically, more likely.\"\n\n\"Am I deluded, or are you happy about this?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Your father thinks that I'll cave on getting a dog now.\" Regina had always been a cat person. Unlike Dad, the prospect of more break-ins obviously did not amuse her.\n\nSophie searched her mother's face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had left abruptly, without explaining anything, and she'd been gone for months. Her departure had been an awful scene.\n\nFive awful, tears all around.\n\nNow, though, Mom seemed resigned.\n\nShould I feel better about that, or more guilty?\n\n\"We'll move me out,\" Sophie said. \"Make my room into a guest room. Box up everything I own, put it in storage—\"\n\n\"And pay for that how?\" Mom said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What do you mean?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Once you take a look at the papers scattered on your floor, I think you'll find some rather terse notes from credit card companies.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" She hadn't meant to be gone so long, and the fact that she'd spent everything the credit gods would give her to buy camera and scientific equipment had halfway slipped her mind. She wondered if she'd had any money in the bank before she left. \"Well, it doesn't matter. I obviously need to move out.\"\n\nAt the same time, Dad said, \"You do think Sledgehammer Sally will be back, then?\"\n\n\"Teeth,\" she muttered, out of habit, in Fleet. When she looked up, her father was mouthing the word.\n\n\"Was that 'tits'?\" her mother asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I—\" She looked to Bram for help.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can move your stuff to the Dwarf House, Sofe.\"\n\n\"Then they'll break in there!\" their mother objected.\n\n\"Mom's right about that, son.\"\n\n\"There's nine of us, Regina—someone's always home. Besides, we do have dogs.\"\n\n\"Whatever you're sitting on, kids, it better be worth it. For what you're putting us through? I expect to retire on a mound of diamonds.\" Mom snapped open the dessert menu. \"Baklava to go? Who's in?\"\n\nThey headed home to find the police were done, and plunged right into straightening up the house and boxing everything Sophie had left.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Packing barely took an hour.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After, Bram drove a load back to his place while Sophie stayed with her parents. They downloaded a costume drama to avoid talking.\n\nShe expected to spend the night awake, in a stew over it all: the break-in, the threat to her family, Inspector Bettel's obvious suspicions—even the money shortage. But the familiar softness of her childhood bed and something about being home—the smell of fog and damp that seemed to come through the window, the mutter in the pipes, and the bed-hogging presence of her mother's six-toed cat—lulled her into a deep sleep.\n\nIt was broken, near dawn, by a dream of the bandit Kev, on his knees. Skinny, smelling of fear, he was fumbling teeth out of a mixing bowl filled with watered-down blood. With frantic movements of his red-stained fingers, he tried to arrange them to fill one of the punched-out gaps in her bedroom walls.\n\nSophie jolted, hard enough to send the cat scuttling across the room.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sitting up, half awake, she clamped her hand over her mouth as she gagged, remembering Cly's blandly focused expression as he skewered one of the bandits. The surprise on the woman's face, the gush of blood between her teeth, from her nostrils...\n\nAlive, and then instantly not.\n\nDistraction. She lunged for her phone, diving into her backlogged in-box. By the time she was calm again, her parents were moving, and she stumbled downstairs for breakfast and fractured conversations about jobs, break-ins, and guard dogs. It was a relief when Bram arrived to save her, helping to load the last two boxes of her worldly goods and then driving her all of two blocks away, out of sight of home. He parked in front of an old Victorian surrounded by temporary fencing and covered by a tarp. \"I was thinking that sledgehammer could've come from here,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Or a dozen places just like it. You should've told me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You were gone. Stuck.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She rocked in place, banging her head against the padded headrest—not quite hard enough to hurt. \"Teeth!\"\n\n\"What are we gonna do?\" Bram asked.\n\nShe handed him her phone, on which a notes app displayed a string of numbers.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"Legal description of the parents' property. If we can find you a spell and ingredients for a Don't Break Into This House inscription, I was thinking you could try it out, using this as the house's name.\"\n\n\"That's our go-to now? Magic?\"\n\n\"Burglar alarm didn't work, Bramble, and we can't be honest with the police. Anyway, it's practice, isn't it? That's why you're making treasure boxes in the Dwarf House attic, right? Now you can practice this.\"\n\nHe acknowledged this with a grunt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm doing schoolkid magic. What if the spell's too hard?\"\n\n\"Then I'll hire a scribe—once I'm back in Fleet, where I'm actually solvent.\"\n\nHe waved the property description. \"What if lot five, parcel twenty, civic tax code mumbo jumbo doesn't work?\"\n\n\"We get the parents to name the pile of bricks? Hansa Estates?\"\n\n\"House of Usher,\" he said.\n\n\"Knowing Dad, it'll end up Thornfield.\"\n\nHe reached into her bag, fishing out her notebook.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[[OOC: Add this exact quote somewhere appropriate: \"The horologist's, to pick up Gale's pocket watch. It's gotta be what our thief was after.\"]]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finding a new page, he wrote, WHAT IF A PERSON, PLACE, OR OBJECT IS GIVEN TWO NAMES?\n\n\"That's not a communal to-do list.\"\n\n\"It's a book of questions, isn't it? Keeping them in one place makes sense.\" He had that mulish expression on: This isn't just your thing, Sofe. Not anymore.\n\nShe didn't want a fight, not now. \"Okay.\"\n\nSatisfied, he pulled back onto the street. \"Where to?\"\n\n\"The horologist's, to pick up Gale's pocket watch. It's gotta be what our thief was after.\"\n\nIt had belonged to Gale, who had fumbled it in a San Francisco alley, the first time she and Sophie had transited to Stormwrack together.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie had searched it out after Bettona sent her back.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're not keeping it with you?\" Bram asked, after he'd paid the repairman and they were back on the road.\n\nSophie opened the watch, revealing its painted white face. It had black numbers and impossibly fine hardwood hands. She wound it, just a little.\n\nTick, tick, tick. The sound filled the car, beating in her eardrums. It had an echo—a heavier, more resonant mechanism. The grandfather clock at Beatrice's?", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "same energy as A. M. Dellamonica, keep writing. story might have ongoing elements", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "(authors note, For the upcoming response only: include a hint of quoted content)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie spent the next few days at Bram's, researching forensics and chemistry and hanging out with her parents in the evenings. She managed to connect with the elderly fingerprinting expert, who was only too happy to walk her through the basics of distinguishing whorls from arches, ridgecounting, and other arts of manual print identification.\n\nShe loaded as many science texts onto her phone as she could, got her birth control implant refreshed, sold her bike for cash to placate the credit card company, and paid a couple of bills. She trimmed her father's roses and took Mom shopping for clothes for the planned trip to Peru.\n\nShe was talking to a dive shop owner about maybe running a quick marine photography workshop, when Beatrice phoned.\n\n\"Can you talk?\" Her birth mother didn't bother with a preamble.\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"I have a message from the family. There's an emergency of some kind. We're expected as soon as we can get back.\"\n\nSophie felt a mixture of emotion: twinges of guilt over Mom and Dad, the pull of her half-finished research. She had missed being in Fleet, but sometimes it had seemed like a faraway dream. She and Bram had barely begun sifting through the data she'd brought back.\n\n\"I'm in the middle of a bunch of stuff.\"\n\n\"It's not a request. According to this note, you took the Oath.\"\n\nUngracious as always. \"So, what? I'm at the Fleet's beck and call?\"\n\n\"E-mer-gen-cy,\" Beatrice repeated, drawing out the word, as if Sophie were four. \"If it's trivial, I'll bring you right back.\"\n\n\"I'll pack and come over.\" She texted Bram, grabbed her stuff, and headed across the city on Muni.\n\nBeatrice was tall and voluptuous, where her sister Gale had been weather-beaten and compact. Her accent and style of dress were utterly American. She had a black and white fox tattooed on her right shoulder, but only a Wracker would recognize its style or suspect that it meant she was from Verdanii. When she and Sophie first met, she had been appalled to realize that her secret firstborn daughter had tracked her down.\n\nIn fact, she'd had an epic freak-out.\n\nTime and a bit of acquaintance had taken the edge off her—the greeting she gave Sophie, this time, was barely nettled. \"You missed our window,\" she said. \"We'll have to wait sixteen hours.\"\n\n\"I thought we were in a flaming rush.\"\n\n\"I'm not a practiced eraglider anymore. Unless they send Verena, we're waiting until morning.\"\n\n\"What about that clerk of Annela's... Bettona?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't let Bette drive a bus,\" Beatrice said scornfully.\n\n\"I can tell my brother we're delayed?\"\n\n\"Knock yourself out.\"\n\nAs she texted Bram, Sophie said, \"Someone's been busting into my parents' house.\"\n\nBeatrice didn't blink. \"They've guessed you have Gale's watch.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\nShe shrugged—a real shrug, not the Stormwrack You're way too curious shoulder-bob.\n\n\"Could it be Annela?\"\n\n\"Nah. You're sworn to obey the law; she'd demand you give it up. If she even knows you have it.\"\n\n\"Haven't you told her?\"\n\n\"If anything Verdanii is rightly yours, it's that,\" she said.\n\n\"It hasn't crossed Annela's mind?\"\n\nBeatrice tilted her head and Sophie felt her skin crawl: she'd seen herself in the same pose, in pictures. \"There may be some 'Don't ask, don't tell' there.\"\n\n\"See if I loop a sinking anchor,\" Sophie grumbled.\n\n\"Or that, yeah.\" They had been standing in the entryway of the house. Now Beatrice turned, leading the way into a dinky, dated-looking kitchen. She poured two cups of coffee, held one out, and sat at a bar stool alongside the counter.\n\nSophie sat across from her, taking it in.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The place looked as though it had been built in the 1970s, but everything was in good repair. A big window dominated the kitchen sink. Out across a narrow rectangle of yard, Verena's half brother, Shad, and a couple other student-age adults—a couple, from the look of them—were staining a newly erected cedar fence.\n\nThe woman who broke into the house had been a track star of sorts; Inspector Bettel said she had jumped from the second-floor balcony to the ground, and had outrun a police dog. But she hadn't been strong enough to knock in Sophie's parents' door or to punch holes in the walls—for that, she'd needed the sledgehammer. \"The intruder was either someone from Stormwrack operating here,\" Sophie mused, \"or someone from San Francisco who's helping them. How many people know about Erstwhile?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I should tell you.\"\n\n\"I'm oathed up now, remember?\"\n\n\"Good point. In that case... Seventy or so, most of them high government officials. All sworn to secrecy and most too old and creaky to get up to home invasion.\"\n\n\"To come here, people need travel permits from Annela's office. How many of them have come lately?\"\n\n\"I've got the list.\" Beatrice pulled it out of a valise. Already prepared... Sophie wasn't the only one asking. There were a dozen names, each with an island nation beside it.\n\n\"All Wrackers? Nobody from Erstwhile goes to and fro?\"\n\nBeatrice shook her head. \"Bram's the first true Erstwhiler who's been allowed to return.\"\n\n\"Someone took John Coine gun shopping.\" A memory of her credit troubles surfaced, and Sophie added, \"And paid.\"\n\n\"Maybe there's another way to eraglide. If it's not just the Feliachilds, all bets are off.\"\n\n\"I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to prove negatives: 'Can anyone else eraglide?' 'Probably not, Kir.' 'How do you know?' 'Well, nobody's been caught at it.'\"\n\n\"There's always you.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Maybe I can be arrested for helping someone terrorize my parents.\"\n\n\"You're in the clear. There are ceremonies tied to eragliding. You haven't been blessed, or trained.\"\n\n\"Would blessing give you a ticking watch earworm? Or does that come with the watch?\"\n\nBeatrice's mouth dropped open. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"I can hear your clock downstairs—actually, if I listen, I can pick up Gale's watch now. Or maybe I'm just imagining that because I know how it sounds. I started hearing your clock when I was halfway here...\" Sophie held up her phone, displaying map coordinates. \"I marked it at a mile and a half distance.\"\n\n\"Mile and a half.\" Beatrice opened a locked wooden wardrobe, rummaging around for a silver-plated cone lined with what looked like lacquered birch leaves. She laid her hand on Sophie's and said, \"Hold this up to your ear.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It's an ear trumpet. Go ahead.\"\n\nSophie raised the cone. Gale's pocket watch came through at once. Hadn't it wound down yet? The clock downstairs bonged, deafening, and Sophie jerked her head away. \"Ow!\"\n\n\"I'll stop ours. Stay here.\" Beatrice went downstairs and the bonging stopped. \"Try again.\"\n\n\"Bossy Verdanii matriarchs,\" Sophie groused, obeying.\n\n\"Well?\" Beatrice called from the stairwell.\n\n\"I hear Gale's pocket watch.\"\n\n\"Anything else?\"\n\n\"No-o-o...\" Sophie started to say, but it wasn't true. There was a thrum, more a heartbeat than anything mechanical. Brrum, brrum, brrum. A sense of time passing, a great weight of years reverberating across a yawning distance, calling to her with a voice made of millions of days and nights, of electrical current and crashing waves.\n\nBeatrice took the horn, gently, and the call dissipated.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie had turned, without realizing it, to face the northeast corner of the room.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her shadow fell in that direction and sun warmed her back, even though they were indoors, even though San Francisco was foggy and overcast.\n\n\"You can. You can hear the Worldclock. It should be impossible!\"\n\nSophie steadied herself on the counter. \"So I can get arrested for treason after all?\"\n\n\"I don't know about that,\" Beatrice said. \"But you could potentially learn to eraglide.\"\n\nSophie led her down to the room with the lockers and started opening doors, exposing the clocks and watches etched inside each door. \"This is basically a locker room for Feliachilds who can go back and forth to Stormwrack?\"\n\n\"Did I say that?\"\n\nSophie decided to take that as permission to go on. \"This one's yours—I've seen your clock. Here's Gale's, here's Verena's, and this belongs to Bettona.\"\n\nBeatrice nodded.\n\n\"Who are the other three?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Pirates and religious maniacs came here to buy guns, remember? If they have their own way here, we'll never catch them. But the other possibility is—\"\n\n\"One of the seven brought them?\" Beatrice frowned. \"My mother was one.\"\n\n\"Ennatrice. She died by ordeal,\" Sophie remembered. \"And there's Pharmann—dead too. Who got his?\"\n\n\"They're accounted for... They're waiting for Verena and Bettona to have children, basically.\" She tapped a sketch of a wristwatch. \"This belongs to Bettona's great-uncle; he maintains our mailhouse in London.\"\n\n\"That cousin's above suspicion?\"\n\n\"He can't eraglide with anything but himself. He keeps a house and clock. We can go to him, but when he wants to come here, either he takes a commercial flight or I fetch him. Otherwise, he shows up buck naked.\"\n\nSophie wondered if that was something a person could fake. \"If someone from Verdanii brought John Coine and the other guy here, it can only be one of these seven?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Can't anyone can use one of the watches? I mean, if someone's trying to steal Gale's from me—\"\n\n\"Supposedly it's just a Feliachild.\"\n\n\"As defined by...\"\n\nBeatrice said. \"The customary answer probably isn't scientific enough for you.\"\n\n\"I'll take superstition if that's all you've got,\" Sophie said. \"Nobody else is going to tell me this stuff.\"\n\n\"Indeed.\" Beatrice laid out the rules briskly. Eragliding was supposedly limited to members of her genetic family, which was one of nine family lines directly descended from the original Allmother's direct descendants. Family membership depended on who was married to whom, the theory being that if someone strayed too far from that gene pool, they'd have to marry another person from the right family to maintain their status.\n\n\"I'm feeling an inbreeding joke coming on,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Believe me, I've heard them all. Even if you are a true Feliachild, you're supposed to break bread with the Allmother before you can hear the Worldclock.\" Beatrice frowned. \"You seem to have skipped that step.\"\n\nMaybe this was why Annela had jumped all over the chance to have Sophie repudiate Verdanii citizenship. In promising to stay away from Verdanii, Sophie limited her chances of learning to eraglide. \"If it's genetic, and I'm only half Verdanii, maybe I won't be very good at it?\"\n\n\"Verena's an amazingly talented eraglider, and her father—You met Merro? —is from Oakland. Some have the knack, some don't.\"\n\nThere was so much here to unpack. She thought of her Sylvanner passport. The Verdanii wouldn't want a portside eraglider. No, Annela wouldn't like that one bit.\n\nNow you're thinking like a Wracker, Sofe.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bring it back to the here and now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In the meantime, people are breaking into my parents' house.\"\n\n\"If it helps, they're probably not in danger,\" Beatrice said. \"I scribed them against casual misfortune when I gave you to them.\"\n\n\"Casual what?\"\n\n\"Please,\" Beatrice said. \"I've been in a car with your mother.\"\n\nSophie opened her mouth to defend Mom, thought of all the times she'd come within a hair of whiplash, and shut up.\n\n\"It's a light intention. No car wrecks, no house fires, no swindlers—\"\n\n\"They just got broken into!\"\n\n\"That was targeted, not casual. And they were out of the house when it happened, both times?\"\n\n\"Hold on. You? You scribed? Or you paid?\"\n\nBeatrice's cheeks pinkened. \"I'd taken up inscription when I was married to Clydon. It was another reason why marrying him seemed like a good idea. Mother wouldn't let me apprentice.\"\n\n\"He got you into the Spellscrip Institute?\"\n\n\"Bumped me to the head of the registration list.\"\n\n\"Of course he did. Were you any good?\"\n\n\"Has your mother wrecked her car? Which reminds me... If they're asking a lot of questions and you want me to take the edge off their curiosity—\"\n\n\"No! Teeth—they're academics! Are you nuts? You can't go playing around with my parents' heads.\"\n\n\"It was just a suggestion.\"\n\n\"What about me?\" Sophie demanded. \"Did you do anything to me?\"\n\nBeatrice's expression froze a little.\n\n\"You totally did! What was it?\"\n\nWith a sigh, Beatrice crossed to an abandoned and rickety-looking baby-changing table propped up against the wall, looking for all the world like it hadn't been moved in two decades. She pushed it aside, then levered up a panel on the floor, revealing a safe.\n\n\"Now I know why you don't bother locking the lockers,\" Sophie said. She felt as if she'd been given Novocain. Her pulse, slamming in her ears, had that whoosh of waves and the Worldclock again. Brrum, brrum, brrum.\n\n\"It'd be an expression of mistrust,\" Beatrice said. \"We're family, remember?\"\n\nA chunk as the lock opened. Beatrice started pulling scrolls out of the safe.\n\nOne. Two. Three.\n\n\"You have to understand,\" she said. \"I was never going to see you again. And you were living here...\"\n\nFour. Five. Six.\n\n\"You were never going to be enchanted by anyone else. It didn't matter if I laid on a bit of a magical load. You were never going to find yourself getting into the pain.\"\n\nInto the pain. Sophie remembered the headache she'd gotten when they taught her Fleetspeak—flawless, accent-free Fleetspeak, in an hour.\n\nSeven.\n\nPaper, parchment, a knitted scarf, all of them glowing with spellscrip. Sophie stared at them, cotton-mouthed.\n\n\"What are they?\"\n\n\"This one's the same ward against misfortune I worked on your parents,\" Beatrice said. She unrolled another. \"Oh—physical vitality. And this one's charm—persuasiveness.\" Sophie held out her hands for the first three and was staring, jaw slack, as her birth mother glanced over more crumbly looking pages. \"Brains, looks, fertility—\"\n\n\"What? Oh my God!\"\n\n\"That one's traditional. They teach it in motherschool.\"\n\n\"So I can plan on busting out Feliachild triplets one day, because—\" She ran aground as her thoughts turned, inevitably, to Garland. Garland Parrish and babies. Bzzt. Before she could completely short-circuit, Sophie said, \"What's the seventh?\"\n\nBeatrice unrolled it—a fine, crisp sheet of birch bark the color of cream, covered in bright-green calligraphy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A friend taught it to me before I left Sylvanna. I meant it to bond you with the Hansas. To keep you—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 22 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"From looking for you?\"\n\n\"I never fit well with my own kin,\" Beatrice said. There was an apology in her tone. Defensiveness, too. \"I wanted you to fit.\"\n\nSophie looked at the seven scrips. \"Without all this, what? I'd have been an unlucky, clumsy, stupid, butt-ugly pig baby with no social skills?\"\n\n\"No! You were a beautiful—\"\n\n\"Don't.\" She felt the raw edge in her voice. \"Don't do that.\"\n\n\"Sophie, they're small intentions. Tiny little—\"\n\n\"If I go to a spellscribe with all these, plus I was taught Fleet overnight eight months ago, and now I want to learn the legal system upside and downside so I stop falling afoul of Annela and the Fleet's arbitrary dinky picky stupid rules, he'll say no problem?\"\n\nBeatrice balked a little. \"You're studying law? Law?\"\n\n\"This isn't about Cly, Beatrice. And it's so not the point.\"\n\n\"Fine. I've screwed everything up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?\"\n\n\"I want the truth.\"\n\n\"You're too loaded to absorb the code of law. You shouldn't have been loaded for Fleet. These backlands inscribers...\"\n\n\"Oh, go blame the foreign guy?\" Sophie was horrifically, deeply, intensely upset. Snatching up the scrolls, she stuffed them in the first thing she found, a plastic grocery bag that had been sitting on the clothes dryer. \"You don't even understand how the last one works!\"\n\n\"Those should stay in the safe.\"\n\n\"I'll be back in fifteen hours to catch that ride to Stormwrack,\" Sophie said, not even sure it was true, before she stormed out.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Team writing exercise. I start (might include existing characters), you do 9 sentences in A. M. Dellamonica style.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beatrice brought them back to Stormwrack the next morning, into the heat of Annela's clock room, which had been left to get stuffy.\n\nSophie had cried off and on through the night, and now her sinuses were packed. Her whole body, from the eyelids out, felt incredibly raw, as if she'd been skinned.\n\nShe was puffy-faced and unkempt, and it didn't help that, when Beatrice rapped out a summons and a clerk came running, the boy's reaction, at the sight of her, that said she looked as though she'd been run over.\n\nBeatrice bowled past him, into Annela's sumptuous nest. The bed was empty. Through the portal, Sophie saw rumpled bedclothes.\n\nBram raised a hand to his nose. \"Someone's been sick.\"\n\n\"Where are my cousins?\" Beatrice demanded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The clerk, who was maybe sixteen, stammered a reply in Verdanii.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Use Fleetspeak,\" Beatrice said, in a voice of iron, but instead of waiting for him to obey, she translated: \"'Nella's ordeal is going badly. She's been ferried to the hospital.\"\n\n\"Bettona go with her?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Of course, Kir,\" said the boy.\n\nForget the scrolls for a minute, she thought. Get your head out of your navel and work. She made herself take a slow breath, pulling air between her teeth, forcing it out again. She bunched the muscles in her hands, arms, shoulders, then relaxed them.\n\nInstitute business. Make a good impression. Don't just find the truth; prove it. Make it unassailable.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Following Beatrice into the cabin, she unslung her camera and shot the bedclothes, the walls, and floor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cabin was filled with cushy luxuries: velvet bolsters, incense burners, ornate paper fans.\n\n\"Bram—test tubes.\"\n\nHe began digging.\n\n\"For what?\" Beatrice said.\n\nSophie sampled some ash from the incense, then began examining the carpet. A circular patch about six inches in diameter had been scrubbed so hard its dye had faded a little. She looked around for a bucket. \"Maybe we can test the vomit for poison.\"\n\n\"You can't be poisoned when you're fasting, Kirs,\" said the clerk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sure you can,\" Sophie and Bram said simultaneously.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beatrice folded her arms. \"Bettona's high on your list of suspects, then?\"\n\n\"Process of elimination.\" Sophie switched to English. \"If there is an eraglider working for the pirates, and it's not you, the London uncle, or Verena...\"\n\n\"Or you?\"\n\nSophie found the trash can. There was nothing in it but more ash and bits of shredded paper. \"Bettona's undervalued, and her career prospects are in the bilge.\"\n\n\"'Nella seemed to think she was beyond suspicion.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If it occurred to you to ask, you wondered about her, too,\" Bram said.\n\n\"I asked,\" Beatrice conceded. \"But she has an alibi. They were drafting new legislation, pulling all-nighters, when Gale was stabbed. Bette couldn't have slipped off to transport Gale's assassins to Erstwhile.\"\n\nSophie tried a desk drawer. Locked.\n\n\"Confidential papers, Kir,\" the clerk said.\n\n\"We should get a blood sample from Annela,\" she said.\n\nBram made a pretense of searching his pockets. \"I neglected to pack a phlebotomist in here, Sofe.\"\n\n\"Beatrice? Can Wrackers take blood?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can take blood,\" she said, and Sophie remembered that she worked in a hospice. \"I don't know about screening it for poisons.\"\n\n\"If we don't have it, we can't even try. I guess she might throw up again.\"\n\n\"Live in hope,\" Beatrice said drily. \"This doesn't have to be sinister, kids. 'Nella's stubborn and ambitious. She might have pushed the fast too far.\"\n\n\"You believe that?\"\n\n\"I'll talk to her. If I can get over not being a spellscribe, she can get over not growing up to be God.\"\n\nI'm not sure that follows, Sophie thought. She turned to the young clerk, who was taking in their activity with an air of astonishment.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are Bettona's rooms here?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Kir. She lives aboard Breadbasket.\"\n\n\"Okay. We'll all go to the hospital ship, and then... maybe Bram and Krispos can go look at Bettona's place?\"\n\n\"Actually, Kir, you're wanted most urgently.\" The young clerk held out a bunch of sealed envelopes.\n\n\"I'll watch Annela like a hawk,\" Beatrice promised. \"I'll even take one of your test tubes in case she pukes.\"\n\n\"You're a suspect too.\"\n\n\"Do you want the disgusting body fluids or not, kid?\"\n\n\"Fine.\" Exchanging the sample kit for her stack of mail, Sophie cracked open a black-bordered envelope.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was addressed to SOPHIE HANSA E LOW BANN, SYLVANNA.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next output: heavy quoted text", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The designation made her skin crawl.\n\n\"What?\" Bram peered over her shoulder.\n\n\"What the clerk said. That cranky old dude, Salk, from the Watch, wants to see me.\"\n\n\"And the rest of the paperwork?\"\n\nShe did a quick flip. \"Red tape. Budget appropriation for the Forensic Institute. Payroll stuff.\"\n\n\"Payroll?\" Bram said. \"As in, an answer to your cash flow—\"\n\nShe interrupted. \"For the fingerprinting project.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before he could ask anything else—she didn't fancy Beatrice hearing about her burgeoning credit card debt—she charged out into the maze that was Constitution's lower decks, obliging Bram to keep pace. Soon they were in a dimly lit corridor, on the twelfth level, peering at an unmarked hatch.\n\n\"You sure this where Annela took us before?\" Bram asked.\n\n\"Maybe. All these hatches look the same.\" She raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before she reached it, yanked aside by a familiar, wizened man wearing a malevolent expression. He smelled, she noted, of vinegar.\n\n\"You took your time, child.\"\n\n\"Something about the angle of the sun,\" Sophie said. She was too depressed to be argumentative.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And brought your memorician,\" he said.\n\n\"Technically, I'm her autodidact,\" Bram said in his accented Fleet.\n\n\"Has the convenor died, girl? You look like overwarm butterfish.\"\n\n\"I'm pretty sure my oath covered showing up, not looking good.\"\n\n\"Fortunately for us all,\" he said, gesturing to indicate his own timeworn face. \"I am sorry about your cousin Gracechild.\"\n\n\"Is that why you summoned me? Because I need someone to go to Breadbasket and search Bettona Feliachild's quarters. In case she poisoned Annela.\"\n\n\"Do you truly believe it a Verdanii domestic matter?\" He looked as though the prospect delighted him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Send your new forensic assistants... Selwig and Humbrey.\"\n\n\"I haven't even met them.\"\n\n\"They're up to turning over a residential berth,\" he said. \"Believe it or not, the Watch caught a few criminals during the Cessation without your assistance.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"We have other business. Come in.\"\n\nThey trooped in and took seats in the uncomfortable desks that gave the room its schoolhouse appearance.\n\n\"Here's the wind, girl. This summer past you were aboard your father's ship, Sawtooth, when she boarded a small ship run by bandits.\"\n\n\"Retrograd Incannis.\" Sophie shuddered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Since your return to Erstwhile, the surviving bandit has been put to trial and sentenced to death.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So fast?\" Sophie wasn't any kind of fan of the death penalty, but Incannis had been sinking other boats and murdering their crews—nobody was disputing that.\n\nSinking smugglers, she thought. There were things about that that had never made sense.\n\n\"The trial was scheduled for next year, but the courts pushed up the date just after you left the Fleet,\" Salk said. \"Now then. The condemned—Kev Lidman's his name—has invoked Fleet law to stave off his execution.\"\n\n\"Typical. Always a loophole, right?\"\n\nThe old man bared yellow teeth. \"If you're proposing to enforce the law, girl, you might pretend to respect it.\"\n\n\"What clause?\" Bram said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A citizen forfeits his right to life by committing capital crimes asea. But a slaver may assume possession of said individuals by intervening in their dispatch.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "((ooc: IMPORTANT: Your response must contain: \"Sophie didn't save the guy,\"))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not following this.\"\n\n\"You saved Kev Lidman from a quick skewering at the hands of His Honor the duelist adjudicator. In the eyes of the law, said skewering would have had the same force as legal execution.\"\n\nKilled a bandit, killed another bandit, got some of the third on my shoe... She fought back an inappropriate giggle that half felt like it might lead to throwing up.\n\n\"Sophie didn't save the guy,\" Bram objected. \"He put a knife to her throat.\"\n\nSalk continued: \"Lidman and the duelist adjudicator agree that she intervened in his dispatch. She, therefore, asserted primary ownership rights over his person.\"\n\n\"What?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Sophie's not a slaver,\" Bram objected.\n\n\"She's Sylvanner, isn't she?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She's Sylvanner? Wait, you're Sylvanner now?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[[OOC: For the upcoming response only: include considerable quoted content]]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Red tape and loopholes. Was it any wonder she thought Fleet customs were stupid? \"Well, I'm an oddity; I might as well be a slaver, too. What happens now, Kir Salk?\"\n\n\"You can give Lidman back to the court and we'll pass him to another claimant, or behead him in a threeday. As he chooses.\"\n\n\"Beheading? That is horrifying.\"\n\n\"Technically, you can behead him yourself.\"\n\n\"And again, twice as hard, with the horrifying. Horrifying five.\"\n\n\"Sofe,\" Bram said. \"This would be the guy who attacked you.\"\n\n\"For a nanosecond!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He helped kill the sailors aboard the ships they raided.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah, he's a bad guy. But you're saying let's add a fun beheading to my list of personal accomplishments?\"\n\n\"He's basically a pirate.\"\n\nAh. Pirates. A justified sore point with Bram. Still...\n\n\"I don't believe you'd even consider... Anyway, wait. What are my other options, Kir Salk? Give him up or...\"\n\n\"It's illegal to keep the bonded in Fleet,\" the old man said. \"If you don't surrender Lidman to the court, you must take him home.\"\n\n\"Home. Sylvanna?\"\n\n\"Certainly not to Erstwhile.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He gave her a canny look. \"Well, girl?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Teeth! Can I talk to him before I decide?\"\n\n\"I'd expect no less.\" He handed her a sheaf of pages. \"He's on Docket. Your brother will not be permitted to accompany you.\"\n\n\"Understood.\"\n\n\"Go, then. Out of my sight.\"\n\nThey left.\n\n\"What the eff, Sofe?\"\n\n\"Someone will be behind this,\" she said. \"Cly, maybe?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How do you figure him?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shook her head. \"Either it's revenge, because I made such a scene at that festival, or he wants me back on Sylvanna, or—I dunno. Just what we needed. Another level-five pain in our—\"\n\n\"What can I do?\"\n\nDespite the overall trampled feeling, she felt a wave of love and gratitude. \"Lots. Get us berths in the apartment block, make an appointment with Mensalohm the lawyer so we can find out how many snakes are in this fun new pit. And, remember Krispos?\"\n\n\"Mister Memory?\"\n\n\"I had him reading up on frightmaking inscriptions and Isle of Gold customs for me. See how he's doing.\"\n\n\"What about these new forensic techs?\" He flipped through the pages.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ragan Selwig and Mel Humbrey?\"\n\nShe peered at the résumés. \"Annela probably handpicked them to tell her when I break my oath.\"\n\n\"Now you're getting paranoid.\"\n\n\"Only because everyone's out to get me.\"\n\n\"They're like... cop partners, it says.\"\n\nShe nodded. Humbrey apparently came from a free nation; his partner, Selwig, was from the slaveholding island Cardesh. \"Wonder if there's any way to reassign or trade in the portside guy?\"\n\n\"Seems like they're a matched set. Cop married. Like Starsky and Hutch.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Heads together, they browsed the write-ups.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] Make sure to seamlessly include 'Speaking of bad guys, you don't owe this Kev Lidman person anything.' in your answer [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The senior of the two, Humbrey, had suffered serious hearing loss on the job and they'd both been reassigned. Salk wrote that they were smart, hardworking, and regular in their habits. Whatever that meant.\n\n\"Isn't managing staff rather a lot to take on?\" Bram asked.\n\nShe shook her head. \"If Annela's been poisoned, the Age of Stupid Science needs us on our game. We solve this—\"\n\n\"It's a feather in our cap?\"\n\n\"I was thinking more that it'd be, like, we caught a would-be assassin.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Of course.\" He cleared his throat. \"Speaking of bad guys, you don't owe this Kev Lidman person anything.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She remembered vividly how scared he had been.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "How starved and afraid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "OOC, Only your next message should be 38% dialogue", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd been avoiding the issue, pushing away every mention of Kev and his trial, promising herself she'd deal with him later.\n\nWhat she said was, \"Bram, come on. Do you really truly honestly believe I should let a human being get beheaded without first talking to him?\"\n\nBram struggled visibly. \"No. Of course not, no. Do you have messageply so we can text?\"\n\nShe opened her book of questions. \"There's the page. And—oh!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"This one says Nightjar's on her way back with—\"\n\nAnd that was when she stepped up to the main deck of Constitution, looking like day-old butterfish apparently, and walked straight into Captain Garland Parrish.\n\nGarland was looking ever so slightly disheveled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His black frock coat was the older and more worn of his two, and he had a goat under one arm, a long-haired and woolly beast with twisting horns.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was hanging placidly in his grip, but Sophie could see bite marks on his wrist.\n\nHis handsome features lit up when he saw Sophie. Which was especially flattering considering her face had a puffy full-night's bawl all over it.\n\n\"Sophie,\" he said, with every evidence of both pleasure and relief. \"You wouldn't by any chance have a rope, would you?\"\n\nShe set down her camera bag, unclipped the nylon strap from its loops, and held it out. Garland shifted the goat, which promptly sank its teeth into his arm. Ignoring it, he dug into its dreadlocks to reveal a collar.\n\nSophie clipped the strap on.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hold tight,\" he said, before setting the creature down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "user note just fyi, Next output: 21% quoted text", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a clatter of hooves, the thing trotted to the yard's worth of distance the makeshift leash allowed, yanking.\n\nGarland let out an unmistakably relieved sigh and reached for Sophie. Before she had time to object, she found herself enfolded against him.\n\nDamn, it felt good.\n\nHe kissed her, and that felt even better.\n\n\"Apologies,\" he said. \"I no doubt reek of goat.\"\n\n\"It's fine. Why do you have her? She's not another rescue, is she?\" Garland had a tendency to liberate and rehome animals who'd been experimented on by spellscribes.\n\n\"No, thank the Seas.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word usage requirement: 'convenor' must appear 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shook his head. \"The people of Glysta have declined to retire their convenor. They say there's a spell they can work, using the goat hair, to offset—\" He broke off as one of the uniformed pages passed nearby.\n\nThe convenor had severe mental illness, Sophie remembered. \"To fix it?\"\n\n\"So they claim.\"\n\nHe didn't smell of goat. He smelled of sandalwood and maybe a bit of linseed oil, and he was warm, and he'd been glad to see her, though she looked like a train wreck on legs.\n\nYeah, and you're magically beautified and charming. The thought came like a fire-hose blast of ice water. She extricated herself from his grip the next time the goat tugged on her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Verena told me you went home,\" Garland said, taking the opportunity to offer Bram a bow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is she still on Verdanii?\"\n\n\"As far as I know. But you're back sooner than expected. Is something wrong?\"\n\nWith a huff, Sophie told him quickly about Annela. Then she handed him the sheaf of pages about Lidman, letting him read for himself.\n\n\"What will you do?\"\n\n\"I'll see him, anyway. Then—\"\n\n\"It's not your responsibility.\"\n\n\"That's what I told her,\" Bram said.\n\n\"If I just let him get guillotined without at least asking why...\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'd do the same,\" he assured her, and again she felt that warmth.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You must allow Nightjar to take you to Sylvanna.\"\n\n\"You sure you want to—\"\n\n\"This man did threaten you,\" he said. \"I wouldn't trust you with anyone else.\"\n\n\"She'll take it,\" Bram said. \"Say thank you, Sofe.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Garland.\" Anyway, being away from him wasn't what she wanted. She pushed aside the swirl of interior objections, all the reasons why she shouldn't be pursuing him or letting him pursue her.\n\n\"Is His Honor behind this?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I've been wondering.\" It had come so fast on the heels of him sticking her with the Sylvanner passport.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Judiciary rushed him to trial as soon as I went home.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Totally not your fault.\"\n\n\"Do you want me to come with you, to talk to the prisoner? You'd have to wait until...\" He gestured at the goat, who had half stood on its hind legs and was trying to climb onto a stanchion.\n\n\"No,\" Sophie said. \"Can you maybe go to Breadbasket and meet up with the two Watch guys who are supposed to be searching Bettona Feliachild's quarters?\" After all those years of spying with Gale, she would bet Garland knew how to poke around a place looking for clues.\n\n\"If you're sure—\"\n\n\"I'll be okay, really. Bram and I were going to take lodgings—\"\n\n\"Come to Nightjar.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow. Maybe...\" Maybe what?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "We can clean up and I can be magically pretty and charm you to pieces?", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It will be all right, Sophie.\"\n\nHe leaned in to kiss her again, but she pretended not to see him coming.\n\n\"Kaythanksbye.\" She handed him the goat leash and made for the ferry launch.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "keep the story goin for like 67 sentences more. same character vibes. make it fantasy, pirates-y", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Cousin Sophie,\n\nMumma will be furious when she works out I am writing you, after that scene you caused at the Highsummer Festival. But I am often at the Institute lately, and my mentor Autumn Spell says a child my age should consult her own conscience on questions of friendship.\n\nSince you left Sylvanna, I have been volunteering with the group commissioned by the Spellscrip Institute to enact your study of the annual turtle migration. This has brought me into contact with our neighbors Rees and Fralienne Erminne and we have talked about their abolitionist views on bonded labor. I cannot say I am convinced by their arguments, but I am listening, and thinking a lot.\n\nSince you proved that the nation of Haversham was responsible for perpetuating the throttlevine infestation in the swamps, our efforts to eradicate the vine have been more successful. I thought you would want to know that cousin Clydon kept his word to you, freeing the throttlevine-eating slaves of Low Bann, tearing up the inscriptions that made them into oddities, and helping them settle in a village near Hoarfrost. Other swamplands estate owners have done less, and it has been a contentious local issue. Fralienne Erminne is therefore running for governor of the Autumn District. She would be the first anti-bondage governor in our nation's history. If she can marry her son to someone respectable, she may win, as the current governor has lately been found to have wealthy and powerful friends on Haversham.\n\nEveryone is very much on edge.\n\nI hope this finds you well, busy, and happy. I am keeping some mail for you that has come to Low Bann. If you want me to send it on, let me know where to ship it.\n\nYour cousin,\n\nMerelda Fenn Banning, chile y Low Bann, Sylvanna\n\nDocket, the ship that served as a brig for the Fleet judiciary, was, to Sophie's surprise, a galley. It had two levels of red and black oars bristling from its lower decks and a strange red-and-black exterior that made it apparent the whole craft was, like Breadbasket, as much magical organism as construct. The masthead was insectile—a millipede's face. The crew was mostly fivers, older cadets, and many of them were heavily muscled. They were fitter and more stone-faced than most Fleet cadets.\n\nJailers, Sophie thought.\n\nShe braced herself for the prospect of seeing prisoners down in the hold, pulling oars, but her escort conducted her to an interview room divided by a panel of a fine-looking glass substitute, a lightly frosted substance with the shimmer and look of insect wings.\n\nLidman was already there.\n\nHe didn't look as though he'd been hauling oars. He'd been sunburned, starved, and on the verge of scurvy when they caught him. Since then he had put on weight, though not muscle. His hands were encased in translucent red carapaces, the fingers and thumbs protruding.\n\n\"Are those casts? Did someone break your hands?\" Sophie demanded.\n\nLidman showed his teeth and said, a bit loudly, \"You have a kind heart, mistress.\"\n\n\"No! No, no, no. None of this slave-and-owner crap or I walk.\"\n\nHe lowered his voice. \"My life depends on behaving correctly.\"\n\nSophie folded her arms tightly across her chest, hoping that she looked stern, not shaky. \"Tell me about your hands.\"\n\n\"It's to keep me from writing.\"\n\n\"Because you're a spellscribe?\" It made sense, she supposed. He could barely move his fingers.\n\nKev nodded.\n\nHe had grabbed and threatened her in a fight aboard his ship, after Cly had already skewered his buddies. Kev let her go as soon as her birth father came at him. Cly would have jammed a sword through his heart without a second thought if Sophie hadn't intervened.\n\nHe was harmless, not scary. What distressed her, as she searched his face and her nose caught a familiar waft of fear sweat, was the memory of Cly. Her birth father not quite smiling, leaving bloody footprints as he advanced on them, sword raised.\n\n\"Sit down,\" she said to Kev.\n\n\"I can't sit if you don't.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" she said, dropping into a cushy chair that seemed to have been brought just for her. \"You and your pals were raiding ships.\"\n\n\"I won't deny it.\" He perched on a wooden stool.\n\n\"You killed the crews, too. I'm no booster for the death penalty, but I don't see why I should go out of my way to help a multiple murderer.\"\n\n\"There's more to it.\"\n\n\"You're gonna tell me you had an excuse?\"\n\n\"Uh...\" He swallowed.\n\n\"Maybe you were compelled?\" Sophie threw this out as bait, to see how dumb he thought she was. And he paused, weighing it—weighing her—before shaking his head.\n\nBy now she'd noticed that they'd pulled the rotten tooth he'd had when they captured him, and had stitched up a cut on his neck. The nails of his hands had been cleaned recently; he couldn't have done that himself, not in those restraints. The Fleet cared for its prisoners.\n\nKev said, \"Our captain—Eame, the one His Honor shot first...\" His hand drifted past his throat, where the crossbow bolt had struck. \"He wrote to me a year ago about stealing Incannis. We were old friends. I'm Haver, but I studied magic on Tug Island.\"\n\n\"You're college buddies, so what? Why'd you take it into your heads to steal the ship in the first place?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You saw the sloop—she was a terrible thing. She used human corpses to make salt frights.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It wasn't you who wrote the original spell into the boat?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Your next response only must contain 41% dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No! My specialty is compulsions for troubled children.\"\n\nSophie leaned forward. \"You cut the heart out of a dead body and used it to make the monsters that attacked Sawtooth.\"\n\n\"Any of us could have raised them. Incannis herself bore the frightmaking intention.\"\n\nFrightmaking, Sophie thought. The wooden creature that had sunk Kitesharp was a fright too. Two sets of sinkings, tied to a type of magic that had supposedly been eradicated. Annela had suggested that wasn't coincidence.\n\n\"Tug's slave hunters were going to launch Incannis and go looking for escapees,\" Kev went on. \"Eame said why not make off with her, change the quarry?\"\n\n\"Quarry. You were hunting smugglers, right? Amber shippers, drug guys.\" She groped for the name of the opiate-producing plant. \"Maddenflur. You were sinking maddenflur smugglers.\"\n\nHe looked puzzled. \"The hard cargo provided funds to buy food. But what we were after was... All the ships came from portside nations. They weren't just shipping goods. They were trafficking in soft cargo.\"\n\n\"Soft what?\"\n\n\"People.\"\n\nSophie felt a jolt. \"You were sinking slavers?\"\n\n\"Didn't you—truly, did you not know? The home ports of the ships we attacked were Isle of Gold, Ualtar, Sylvanna, Tug itself—\"\n\nSophie put up a hand, interrupting. \"If that's true, where'd the slaves go?\"\n\n\"I—\" He faltered. \"We met a ship.\"\n\n\"What ship?\"\n\n\"Allies. Friends of Eame's.\"\n\nThere was a stink of lie coming off him now. Sophie opened her mouth to say so, but he rushed in to fill the silence. \"If you knew where they were, you'd be honor-bound to report it to the Watch. The people we freed would be captured and returned to bondage.\"\n\nShe flashed briefly on Annela, her smug certainty that Sophie couldn't go a week without oathbreaking. Still...\n\n\"Kev,\" she said. \"You're hiding something.\"\n\nHe bonked his hands together, probably meaning to wring them. \"We liberated far more bonded people than we—\"\n\n\"Than you slaughtered slavers?\"\n\n\"Rescuing slaves at sea is one of the few ways to truly free them. They're shipped with the scrolls that hold their will in thrall.\"\n\nHe meant intentions that forced them to obey their owners. Sophie thought of the scrips Beatrice had written. Of their essential fragility, and of Bram demanding that she hide them.\n\n\"We sent them away, my word on it. And whenever the ships' crews surrendered, we sent them along with their former cargo, as prisoners. We only killed those who resisted.\"\n\n\"But you won't tell me where to find anyone who can vouch for you.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"If you don't take me on, I'll have to opt to be beheaded, lest I'm claimed for bondage by Tug Island or Ualtar. They'll wring the truth out of me; they'll force me to expose the people we liberated. Sylvanners, you're more humane.\"\n\n\"I'm not... Oh, forget it.\"\n\n\"You're kind, Kir Sophie. You saved me once...\"\n\n\"So could I please do it again?\"\n\nHe gave her a weak smile. \"It's a thin wind, but it's all my sails can catch.\"\n\n\"I have to think about this,\" she said, getting up.\n\nHe shot to his feet. \"My execution's scheduled for high sun, in a threeday.\"\n\nSophie closed her eyes. Then she made herself walk out without looking back.\n\nThey didn't give her any time to pull herself together. The guard escorted her to an office, where they laid out the procedure for claiming Lidman, if she chose. It looked about as complicated as buying a car. Finally, they patted her down, checking again for weapons or contraband, before letting her onto a ferry bound for the residential quarter.\n\nExhausted to the point of numbness, she let herself deflate into a seat on the rail of the upper deck, staring across the Fleet as the crews of the government ships embarked on their afternoon shift change. Trios of uniformed cadets from the dawn shift stood just to starboard of each ship's bow, unrolling three flags: the Fleet flag first, the ship's national flag next, and a third designating its purpose—military, governance, or justice. On the hour, a shrill whistle blast sounded from each ship.\n\n\"Chi hurrah, hurrah achi yeh!\" The ceremonial cheer echoed faintly from each deck. Sophie had heard it was a Verdanii peace cry.\n\nThe ferry captain tapped the last few grains out of his hourglass, then flipped it. The trio of cadets on each ship passed their flags to cadets on the evening shift, who held them in place over the port side and cheered again before rolling them up and marching off to work.\n\n\"Another bright day in the century of peace, neh?\" said the ferryman, apparently to himself.\n\nSophie got comfortable in her seat, paged through her book of questions, made a couple notes, and then opened another of her letters, which turned out to be from Xianlu of Shepherd. It began:\n\nKir Hansa,\n\nYour man Krispos asked that I write to update you on the investigation of recent sinking of Kitesharp (and, by extension, the earlier victims).\n\nThe sailor you identified as having a missing finger is named Darel Lest of Ascro Island. He is not thirty, and was a fisher until an accident six years ago which resulted in his disfigurement.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His injuries would have been fatal, but two spellscribes restored him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Afterward, having lost his nerve for sailfishing, he trained as a mechanic.\n\nHe claims to have no involvement in or memory of an action against his ship. However, his medical history shows signs of recent magical loading.\n\nIt seems probable that Lest may have had his name stolen by an unscrupulous scribe, and that he was used as a template, to use your term, for the wood fright. The Watch is even now tracing the scribe who cured him after the accident. They seem to believe there are some name-stealing crime rings proliferating in the western isles and on the more populous nations.\n\nWe have recommended that ships to the rear of the Fleet perform regular inspections, seeking the mark you saw on the day of the sinking—the outline of a hand, in wax.\n\nIf the raiders strike again, as seems likely, you would be very welcome to rejoin us aboard Shepherd. We have commended your efforts thus far to the Watch.\n\nShe felt a bit of a glow at that. She'd been useful; she'd helped.\n\n\"Your stop, Kir.\" The ferryman handed her into a makeshift elevator, a crude platform dangling from simple pulleys, hauled up by workmen on the deck of the ship above.\n\nSophie was an old hand at this now. She let them hoist her aboard, then went to check in with the ship's purser.\n\nBram had moved them into adjoining cabins across the corridor from Krispos, two narrow slots with bunks at shoulder height and small lounging areas—a chair and a half-desk, essentially—contained below. There was a vanity between them for washing up, and a sliding panel for privacy.\n\nHe'd obviously had time to swing through one of the market ships that acted as seagoing shopping malls. A pair of ram skulls jostled together in a net bag near his pillow, and he was paging through a thick book called Compendium of Starter Spells, Fleet-Approved and Fit for Children Ages 9–16. Small satchels and paper bundles scattered near the book were probably spell components.\n\n\"It looks like there may indeed be a ward against burglars I can work on our house,\" he said.\n\n\"Did you get food?\"\n\n\"Forgot.\"\n\nClassic. She felt a wave of mixed affection and exasperation.\n\n\"More mail for you.\" He pointed out a crate filled with stiff brown file cards. \"Oh, and Krispos dragged home a bag of spores.\"\n\n\"Club moss,\" she said. \"Early version of fingerprint powder.\"\n\n\"Whom are we printing?\"\n\n\"Once we've built a fingerprint database and identified those found bodies, we'll practice lifting latent prints from surfaces. The folks in the Watch are basically federal cops. If we can lay out a procedure for identifying prints and convince them it's useful, they'll be thrilled to do the heavy lifting on developing a proper bureau.\"\n\n\"Okay, but this place is superstition central. What's to keep some competing expert from saying a certain whorl pattern proves a criminal is guilty, or something?\"\n\n\"We lay out the procedure, claim proprietary rights, do a few cases, and then license it to the Watch... with a rule that they can't testify unless we approve the work.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a lot of report reading and rubber-stamping.\"\n\n\"Easy enough to do that at sea, while we're on our way to somewhere cool for a dive,\" she said, hoping this would eventually prove true. So far, Stormwrack had yielded far more procedure and paperwork than time in the field. \"Once we have an expert or two who buys into the whole procedure, we can set them on the rubber-stamping.\"\n\n\"Works in theory.\"\n\nShe opened his duffel, pulling out Beatrice's scrolls. Good luck, good looks, silver tongue, intellect, grace, and—she sent up a mental flare of thanks for her birth control implant—fertility. Last came the mystery scroll, lettered in green, on birch bark.\n\n\"You okay?\"\n\n\"No, Bram,\" she said. \"Five out of five no.\"\n\n\"What can I do?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"Want to tell me about Prison Man?\"\n\n\"Kev?\" She recounted their interview.\n\n\"You gonna take him on? You don't owe the guy anything, Sofe.\"\n\nShe rocked back on her bed. Both options pretty much sucked. She didn't want to let Kev get beheaded, but owning him, even temporarily, was a horrific prospect. And there was something about Kev—his smell, perhaps? —that unsettled her in some deep but hard to articulate way. She felt off balance, almost seasick. \"He says Ualtar will snatch him up and torture the location of liberated slaves out of him.\"\n\nBram bit his lip. \"You think that's true?\"\n\n\"Well... Obviously, he wants to live. I don't know that I believe he's telling me the whole story.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Just a feeling. I mean, slave escapes must be a thing, right? They must happen? Must have been happening all along? The portside nations must have put resources into stopping them. Do they really not know where the escapees go?\" She thought about what Kev had told her: slaves being transported with spells that forced them to behave. They'd need some kind of legally binding name change, wouldn't they, to be truly free of bondage? That meant government involvement. Birth certificates, citizenship papers. \"The free nations have got to be helping them. But I bet that's one of the thousands of things they never talk about openly in Fleet.\"\n\nBram rubbed the pearl in his thumb. \"You're saying Where are the slaves going? isn't an interesting enough question to make it worth torturing the guy—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Kev,\" she said again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 23 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was it okay?\" he asked. \"Seeing him?\"\n\nShe experienced a surge of feeling. A sob threatened, powered by the sick feeling and leftover emotional fragility from her storm of tears the night before. Her memory served up footage of Cly, skewering Kev's crewmates one by one.\n\nInstead of answering, she leaned against him, taking comfort from the heat of his shoulder against hers. \"Did anything come of searching Bettona's quarters?\"\n\n\"Yeah, actually. Parrish and your constables found two books in Bettona's room, in a plastic bag from home. I left them in the bag, in case you want to do prints, but you can see the covers.\" He waved something, at the edge of her peripheral vision, but she kept staring at the scrolls.\n\n\"What are the titles?\" she said eventually.\n\n\"Things That Go Boom! and Domestic Terrorism for Young Patriots.\"\n\n\"Teeth,\" she said. \"That can't be good.\"\n\n\"Nope. So my point is, you've got plenty on your plate. You don't need to take this guy Kev on.\"\n\n\"I just keep thinking: beheaded. Whatever else is going on, I don't have it in me to sit on my hands and—\"\n\n\"Sofe, put the scrolls away.\"\n\nShe opened his duffel, pulling out Beatrice's scrolls and laying them on the bunk.\n\n\"That seventh spell is about bonding,\" she said. \"Beatrice thought it'd bond me to the parents so hard I wouldn't ever even think to look for her. Instead, look at me. I'm not a committer, Bram—I've never been.\"\n\n\"Sofe—\"\n\nWhatever brotherly advice he might have offered was interrupted by a knock at their cabin hatch. Sophie leaped up. Bram hurriedly tucked the scrolls away in a lockable cupboard under his lounge.\n\nIt was Garland, and he had Septer Xianlu with him.\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Shepherd is bleeding.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May include established characters/lore without introduction\nMy role: Provide a brief opening\nYour role: Expand upon my opening with 49 sentences, emulating the writing style of A. M. Dellamonica.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie imagined she could feel fear knotting through the people of the Fleet, stitching them together in crowds. Abovedecks on a hundred ships, worried citizens lined the rails, turned to watch the great rescue vessel, now at the rear and surrounded by smaller helper ships.\n\nShepherd might not be the symbol that Temperance or Breadbasket were, but she was official. This was no kite shop or glazier.\n\nThis was the ship that kept other ships from sinking.\n\n\"Nobody's downed a rep ship since the Cessation,\" Garland murmured. He'd washed, at some point between the goat wrangling and getting the Mayday from Shepherd; his still-damp hair gleamed in the sun, and he exuded a faint scent that Sophie had come to associate with Fleet soaps, an oil that was neither clove nor citrus, though similar enough to evoke memories of mulled wine.\n\n\"Nobody's sinking one today,\" snapped Xianlu.\n\nTheir transport cleared the Fleet followers—what Sophie thought of as the suburbs of the seagoing city—and sailed into the muddle of ships. Shepherd, by far the largest, was encircled by sailing vessels big enough to hold her crew if it came to the worst.\n\nShe wasn't conceding to an evacuation yet.\n\nThe transport deployed a ladder and they climbed aboard, one after another.\n\n\"Have we found an outline of a hand?\" Xianlu asked as soon as she came aboard.\n\nThe cadet she'd spoken to shook her head. \"Still searching.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can pinpoint it from outside?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Sollo Mykander's mermaids are looking.\"\n\n\"I'll get below and help.\"\n\n\"Is there a plan?\" Garland asked.\n\nXianlu nodded. \"The first two ships were sunk before we knew about the wood frights. The creatures formed on the outer hull, creating a hole, causing the ships to take water. Kir Sophie disturbed the third, on Kitesharp, and it tore itself free.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm sorry about that—\"\n\n\"It was a crucial discovery,\" Xianlu said, doggedly on task. Her expression was that of a fighter expecting to take a blow. \"The three ships were tiny; they couldn't survive a hole as big as a person. Shepherd can, especially if the thing simply separates itself from her hull after it has taken whatever it needs to grow.\"\n\n\"So the plan is to let it be... born?\"\n\n\"Yes. Separate it from the hull, capture it, patch the leak, and pump out the water. We'll be repaired within a week.\"\n\n\"Kir?\" A shout from the waterline. A swimmer—female, dark-skinned, bald, and nude, with heavily muscled shoulders—was treading water about three yards out. The nine-foot-long expanse of her tail, a silver cord of muscle, was visible in the water below, undulating from side to side.\n\n\"Report, Torren.\"\n\n\"It's near the rudder, Septer. Starboard side.\"\n\n\"Mermaid,\" Bram murmured. \"Holy crap! Mermaid.\"\n\nHis astonishment lightened Sophie's mood. \"I know, right? I should get down there.\"\n\nShe already had her wetsuit on; now she checked her breathing rig and lowered herself into the water. The ocean was warm; its surface choppy. She turned automatically to avoid a slap of water over her face, then submerged. Once under, she took a few careful breaths, checked her watch, and turned on her light. Her mermaid escort, Torren, waited. The boy Sophie had seen transformed a few weeks earlier was with her, a flaxen-haired, quicksilver shadow.\n\nWhen she gestured that she was ready, they swam toward the rear of the vessel.\n\nShepherd was a massive boat, almost two hundred feet long. Her hull was fouled, covered in barnacles and seaweed, a spongy biomass seeping redness.\n\nThe sea was full of merpeople.\n\nAs with the previous victims, the blood seeping from Shepherd had attracted sharks. A squad of long-tailed soldiers with tridents was keeping an eye on them, making themselves seen. The merpeople seemed practiced at it, alert and cautious, but calm, too. The sharks were keeping their distance.\n\nA second crew of mers waited starboard and to the fore of the ship; they held sacks of tools.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Military engineers, waiting to patch the leak, Sophie surmised.\n\nHeavily muscled individuals with nets were waiting near the rudder.\n\nAll the mers' eyes reflected her light back at her, as if they were cats.\n\nSophie turned her light and camera on the fouled hull. Torren pointed, and she spotted the fright—a crimson growth the size of a one-man rubber dingy. A translucent and bloody balloon, it wobbled in time with the press of the water around it, emitting enough blood to create a haze of red around itself.\n\nThey had picked away enough of the seaweed and covering encrustations to reveal the amniotic sac. It was low on the hull and just to starboard of the rudder.\n\nSophie shone her light on it. The sac was sufficiently translucent that she could see the figure within the amniotic fluid. It had formed a twiggy skeleton in there, and muscles were growing, fiber by ropy plant fiber, on its frame. It had a vitality that suggested life, rather than the cold-meat inertia of death.\n\nAs she watched, a clot of red tissue was disgorged from the sac. It drifted beyond the protective line of mermaids and got snapped up by one of the sharks.\n\nWait and watch. Adjusting her dive vest, Sophie lost herself in observation as the thing developed.\n\nShe'd often found she did her best thinking underwater, waiting for animals to show up, or timing out her safety stops. Now, as the fright grew—and grew, and grew some more, muscling up like a bodybuilder—she wondered, Was Shepherd the target all along?\n\nThe other ships might have been test runs. Tests for what, though?\n\nTerrorism, she thought, remembering the books Bram had found at Bettona's. Sowing fear.\n\nIf so, what could matter was that the next ship wouldn't have Shepherd there to save it. Maybe Shepherd was the means to an end, a penultimate target.\n\nWho would they be after? The Piracy had gone after the Fleet's flagship, Temperance, before. Then again, if they sank Constitution, they'd take out the government, at least symbolically.\n\nIf Bettona was in league with terrorists, then the sinkings and Annela's poisoning—Alleged poisoning, Sophie amended—were related.\n\nThe creature was almost complete. Bark was forming on its muscular back and legs—skin with birchy spots—and it was beginning to move. It wiggled and fidgeted, breaking its connection to the hull of the ship. The amniotic sac shivered but showed no sign of sucking inward.\n\nThe wood fright gave one long head-to-toe stretch, pulling itself free of Shepherd's hull, leaving a gigantic hole as it broke away. Pieces of wood splintered in every direction. Twisting, it stuck its head in the hole it had made, kicking hard and clumsily, like a kid trying to make progress with a flutterboard.\n\nAs its hand touched the hull, it rooted and stuck. When it pulled it away, its body language all but shouting surprise, it made the hole bigger.\n\nThen two brawny mers surged forward, grabbing the wooden legs. With one coordinated yank, they tore the fright clear of the ship. Two of their comrades clamped on, drawing it away.\n\nSophie turned, filming the struggle. The fright was obviously strong, but it was outnumbered and out of its element. They had it bound and netted quickly enough. Its roots grew and knotted into the strands of the net, twining in fast, increasing the bulk of the tangle in which it was caught.\n\nOnce the fright was separated from Shepherd, the engineers swam in, efficiently wadding something that looked like putty into the gap in the hull, working it around a long pipe with a sealed opening—for a pump, Sophie guessed.\n\nMission accomplished. Ship saved, Sophie thought. They all ascended to the surface. Shepherd lowered a ladder, allowing Sophie to climb aboard and shed her tanks.\n\nThe wooden figure—it was female—stopped struggling as it was borne into the open air. It swiveled its head from side to side, as though it was seeking something.\n\nXianlu said, \"Have it brought aboard. Don't let it touch the deck.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The crew hauled the fright up on a pulley, dangling in its bonds and net of rope.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 35 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Xianlu gave it a careful glance.\n\n\"Niner Rills, step forward.\"\n\nOne of the cadets, a young woman with the Bluto build of a Fleet cannoneer, stepped up.\n\nThe creature's reaction was instantaneous: its skin grew thorns all over, slicing into the net that held it. It opened its mouth, exhaling a green-yellow cloud of pollen as it tore free of the net. It rushed the bug-eyed woman—the bone structure of their faces was identical, Sophie realized.\n\nThe crew rushed to intercede. The thing swept one of them up and around, slamming him to the deck and puncturing his forearm with thorns before rounding, once again, on the cadet.\n\nGarland Parrish slipped like oil between the fright and its target, catching its outstretched wrist easily, right where it had scraped away its own thorns, and giving it a light, almost effortless-looking flip. It rolled, its backside sending roots into the deck and then tearing the wood as it jerked itself free. Regaining its balance, still intent on the cadet, it moved again.\n\nGarland circled, intercepted. This time, when the thing rounded on him, he planted his feet, caught it again, and added to its momentum sufficiently to throw the wood fright overboard.\n\nThe cadet was gasping at his feet. \"Me? It was me? My name's in the wild?\"\n\nXianlu gestured to a couple of uniformed cadets. \"Come on, Rills. We'll sort it out.\"\n\nThey led her away as the fright surfaced, clearly intent on swimming its way back to the ship and its target.\n\n\"Catch it again,\" Xianlu ordered to the mer leader. \"We'll have to find a dead rope to bind it.\"\n\n\"Nightjar has a length of iron chain,\" Garland said.\n\nXianlu grimaced. Wrackers, among their other peculiarities, had some beef against iron or anything they suspected of having been tainted by petrochemicals. Even so, she nodded.\n\n\"It looks like you're arresting that cannoneer,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"We have to be cautious until we know she's not at fault. It's likely we'll find she had her name stolen, just like the fellow from Kitesharp. If so, we'll order her home for a name change.\"\n\n\"The bottom of the ship is badly fouled,\" Sophie said. \"Seaweed, barnacles, you name it. Can the mermaids patrol the Fleet? Would they see that developing on a new target?\"\n\n\"Possibly.\" Xianlu shook her head. \"It's a big Fleet and they're a small detachment.\"\n\n\"The frightmaker isn't choosing random targets,\" Sophie said. \"Focus the patrols on ships more important than Shepherd.\"\n\n\"Agreed.\" Xianlu broke into a smile, suddenly, looking around the ship. \"Still afloat, crew Shepherd!\"\n\nCheers broke out from bow to stern as she shouted it again— \"Still afloat!\" —and pounded Sophie genially on the back.\n\nSophie gave a hearty two thumbs up, managing not to say what she was thinking: maybe they'd saved the ship, but they were no closer to preventing the next incident.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Expand the story by adding seventy-three sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "After her meeting with Mensalohm, Sophie found she wasn't quite ready to face either Bram or Garland.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She caught a ferry to the courthouse, instead, showing the receptionist her bundle of papers from the Watch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt a little like she'd gotten away with something when they assigned her a clerk who was only too happy to fetch her the trial minutes—as they called them—of Kev's case. The document only came to twenty or so pages.\n\nShe was about to photograph them, page by page, when it occurred to her to ask, \"Can you copy this to my assistant?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the clerk said.\n\nShe took a quick flip-through before handing it back.\n\nThey didn't do word-for-word transcripts here, settling instead for written summaries of trial evidence. Kev's prosecution consisted of an account of the sinkings and an inventory of hard cargo found on Incannis, stolen things from the missing ships—amber beads, various kinds of narcotic, spell ingredients, and, from Sylvanna, \"contraband medical records.\" There was no mention whatsoever of smuggled slaves. The listing was followed by Cly's statement about the fight between Incannis and his ship, Sawtooth.\n\nShe wasn't about to read that. She asked, \"This says the cargo samples are in... Exhibits?\"\n\n\"That's in the hold. Do you wish to see them, Kir?\"\n\n\"Is that okay?\"\n\n\"You've taken the Oath?\"\n\nShe nodded, wondering why anyone would take her word for it. Still, the clerk happily took her below, descending four decks to a massive locked hatch.\n\n\"Sign in here, Kir.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" A first glance reminded Sophie of movie renderings of top secret government warehouses—a vast hold filled with crates. Then it occurred to her that, big or not, this couldn't possibly be everything. \"This can't cover all the backlogged cases.\"\n\n\"No, Kir. We store materials for cases likely to see adjudication or the dueling court within a tenmonth.\"\n\n\"Where's the rest?\"\n\nShe started pointing at sections of shelving. \"Homicide cases are held by Issle Morta, because they serve the dead. Matters of commerce go to Sparta, for they eschew profit. Paperwork for petty criminal matters is on Drake's Shoal.\"\n\n\"They eschew pettiness?\"\n\nIt was a small joke, and it failed to gain any traction with the clerk. \"The Shoal has little natural wealth. The government contract to store state records is crucial to their economy.\"\n\nSophie looked at the last section of shelves—the biggest. \"And all your resource fights? Ownership of plants and animals? Biodiversity feuds?\"\n\n\"The natural history case archive is on Murdocco. I'll come back, shall I?\" With that, the clerk left her, closing her in and noisily throwing the latch.\n\nSophie went looking for her case. At home, each of these caches would be stored in a cardboard file box. The same idea held here, but these were wicker baskets, handmade, one for each case. Each basket was covered, labeled, lashed shut, and tied to its shelf, lest the rocking of the ship dislodge crucial evidence.\n\nShe found the basket matching Kev's case number, examining the samples of Incannis's plunder—beads, drug samples, and a description of a Sylvanner kid with symptoms reminiscent, at least to Sophie, of ADHD. The boy's name had been burned from the page. The notes indicated an unproved suspicion that the file had been acquired by a name-stealing ring.\n\nThere was nothing to either support or refute Kev's story.\n\nThe clerk wasn't back yet.\n\nShe roamed the shelves, reading labels, until one caught her eye: \"Counterclaim Year 57—Marine Bats, 2 Species.\"\n\nShe opened it up, remembering the bats she'd encountered during her accidental first visit to Stormwrack. The crate held two pickled samples and two skins. Each sample had a distinctive set of tufted ears.\n\nShe riffled through the case notes. The two islands in dispute had agreed that both species inhabited each nation's forests... but both claimed rights to profits from spells using the animals' larynxes.\n\nShe looked at a bat in its jar of brine. The biodiversity shelf held perhaps two hundred such baskets, a small fraction of the total pending cases. What if most of them contained samples, items like these, all tagged with data about the animal species involved—where they were captured, habitat info?\n\nAfter the cases wrapped up, the samples might be up for grabs.\n\nShe felt a burst of greed, as if she'd fallen into a treasure hoard. Samples, information, details on animal behavior, all of it here for the—well, not plundering, exactly.\n\nWho knew what she might find?\n\nShe kept browsing.\n\nSnail collection, island of Erinth.\n\nShrews of Zingoasis.\n\nLesser chindrella, dispute between Tiladene and Ualtar.\n\nPeacocks, 6 species, latterly rumored unnatural.\n\nFright ingredients. Pouched lion.\n\n\"Pouched?\" she said aloud. \"Poached?\"\n\nThe basket wasn't any bigger than the others.\n\nPouched... marsupial?\n\n\"I'm investigating frights,\" she said, justifying herself, even though nobody was there to tell her not to rifle through other people's case evidence. She hefted the basket down, tipping the lid.\n\nPainted wooden eyes glared out at her.\n\n\"Lion-skin rug,\" Sophie muttered. \"Marsupial by-the-Seas lion-skin rug. OMG.\"\n\nShe pulled it out, marveling at everything—the silky, koala-dense fur, the huge forepaws with their strange, cleaverlike thumb claw. The rug only encompassed the top of the marsupial lion, so there was no chance to look at the pouch.\n\nExtinct at home. Alive and well here. She photographed it and clipped a hair sample, labeling it carefully.\n\nThe rest of the basket contained a selection of samples tagged as ingredients for the frightmaking spells that, according to treaty, had been outlawed. The inventory had gaps: she found a listing for a jar of salamander eggs but not the container itself.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were twenty labeled acorns, two catkins, a lungfish, three kinds of dog, tree bark samples, braids of horse and cat hair (both half as long as the notes said they should be), sealing wax, and an unlabeled box of what looked like bits of fingernail.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She was about to pack it all back up when she found one last sample in the bottom of the basket: a lizard, the length of her hand, with thin, iridescent glider wings.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sitting cross-legged in the hold atop the lion, she examined the lizard—the blue scaling on its belly, the mottled green on top. She imagined it slithering its way to some high point, wings pulled tight against its back, then dropping off, or possibly springing into the air.\n\nTo catch what prey? Flying insects, perhaps?\n\nShe tipped her head to take in the shelves. Box upon box of potential treasure, and a total-access card to visit.\n\nStrangely comforted, she took the basket out, advised the clerk that there was material missing from the collection of fright-related exhibits, and—in a last quick burst of footwork—hit the hospital ship to see if there was any chance of seeing Annela Gracechild.\n\nShe found Beatrice, instead, sitting vigil with three separate guards. A forbidding, seven-foot Amazon type with a headdress made of pheasant feathers stood in front of the door, next to a uniformed Fleet officer and a young towheaded woman wearing what looked like black pajamas.\n\n\"Triple guarded,\" Beatrice said, indicating the trio. \"One from Verdanii, one from the Convene, a third from the Watch.\"\n\n\"How's Annela doing?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Still unconscious.\"\n\n\"Do they know what's wrong?\"\n\n\"The doctors here call it salt-and-sugar tilt,\" Beatrice said. She fiddled with the straps of an enormous leather purse, red in color, that looked to Sophie like a Coach knockoff.\n\n\"Meaning what? Sugars... diabetic coma?\"\n\nHer birth mother nodded. \"I'm guessing nonketotic hyperosmolar coma. But if I say that to them, it'll be gibberish.\"\n\n\"It's gibberish to me, too. I don't know anything about diabetes.\"\n\n\"They're rehydrating her and administering sugars; she'll probably come out of it.\"\n\n\"Was she getting insulin shots?\"\n\n\"No. Fasting wasn't the best idea she ever had, but she's managed it before all right.\" Beatrice gnawed at her thumbnail. \"If someone sabotaged her, it might have been by swapping out her pills. Very hard to prove.\"\n\n\"Bettona's still AWOL?\"\n\n\"Yes. But she has an ironclad alibi for the other thing, remember? She didn't bring Gale's assassins you-know-where.\"\n\n\"She has accomplices. Helpers. We found how-to books about terrorism in her cabin.\"\n\n\"Helpers who can eraglide,\" Beatrice said, sourly.\n\n\"Speaking of blood sugar, you look like you could use some food. Are you on guard here, or...\"\n\n\"'Nella's safe enough with all this at her door.\" To Sophie's surprise, Beatrice smiled. \"Come on. You'll enjoy this.\"\n\nShe led Sophie out of what seemed to be a VIP wing and into a patient ward—a double-row of injured and sick sailors in wide flat hammocks. They were tended by nurses and orderlies of both genders.\n\nThe hospital ward was clean. Wrackers might not understand germ theory, but they seemed to believe that cleanliness prevented contagion: the smell of ammonia was all it took to confirm that.\n\nTypical of Fleet, the patients were a racially mixed group. Some wore crisply ironed pajamas emblazoned with a stylized version of Constitution's paddle wheel. The Fleet sick bay uniform, Sophie supposed. Others, presumably civilians, were in a mix of robes and smocks. One seemed to be deep in prayer. Another was embroidering. A third was browsing through a book titled Veterinary Inscription: Magical Loads and Domesticated Animals.\n\nA young man moved among them, followed closely by an elderly nurse.\n\nThe man was what the Wrackers called an oddity, someone altered by magic so that his or her physical appearance was no longer entirely human. The man's arms, from the elbow down, had the dull sheen of fish scale, and instead of terminating in fingers, his hands had the blunt, dangerous faces of eels. His female attendant—whose knuckles, wrists, and elbows all had a lumpy, arthritic look to them—was rolling a trolley. It had two levels: there was a tub of water, above, and a bowl of fish roe—bright red salmon eggs and white globes the color of cataracts—below.\n\nAfter soaking his arms in the water, the man laid his eel-head stumps on a young sailor who had an enormous leg cast. The patient had been watching intently as he approached. Her hands were clenched and her breathing was tightly controlled—signs she was struggling against significant pain?\n\nAs the nurse's flesh met the patient's, there was a low crackling, and an ozone smell...\n\n\"Electric eels,\" Sophie murmured, and Beatrice nodded.\n\nThe sailor relaxed back against her pillows with an audible sigh of relief.\n\nThe nurse turned, holding up both arms, as his attendant produced the bowl of roe. Eel tongues extended slowly into the bowl, and this time Sophie could see the current, little flicks of lightning traveling from nurse to eggs, leaving the roe flickering like banked coals.\n\n\"What gives?\"\n\n\"The nurse draws the pain out of the patient and transfers it to the eggs,\" Beatrice said.\n\n\"Where it... what?\"\n\n\"Ha. Good question. It waits, basically, for the egg membranes to break. Then it makes for the nearest warm body.\"\n\n\"Literally warm? Mammalian?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nIt was the first time Sophie had seen her birth mother looking comfortable, at home with herself or her surroundings.\n\nHer birth mother beckoned, and nurse and attendant approached. Beatrice took a flat wooden probe and extracted two of the tiniest specks of roe. She set one on Sophie's palm and took the other herself, between index finger and thumb. \"Go ahead,\" she said. \"It won't hurt much.\"\n\nBy way of demonstration, she popped her own between finger and thumb.\n\nSophie followed suit. There was a shock at first, the sort of jolt one got from static on a cold winter day. Then, just for a second, aches bloomed in her femur and the back of her rib cage, quick jabs in both places.\n\nShe looked around the room, past the woman with the broken leg, and saw a patient lying on her stomach with a huge bandage on her back, behind the heart.\n\nShe took a sniff at her fingers: fish, nothing more.\n\n\"Believe it or not, there's a trade in these,\" Beatrice said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are cultures that use them in religious ordeals, as tests of strength or, in one case, a mode of penance. Hail Mary and pop! And there's at least one exotic dish, isn't there?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the nurse. \"There's a chef who uses herring roe laced with pain from burns. I can't say it's something I'd want to taste, but...\" With a shrug, the young man reached for his attendant. The movement looked both habitual and almost unconscious. Energy crackled between them.\n\nThose arthritic joints, Sophie thought.\n\nThe old woman relaxed within her uniform and held up the eggs for the transfer. Then she straightened the eel man's shirt.\n\n\"Isn't that terribly inconvenient?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"I was born without hands, Kir. I could write with my feet before I was ever inscribed. Jamla and I take excellent care of each other.\"\n\nRepurposing the disabled, as they did with the kids they're turning into the mermaids. She hoped her discomfort with the idea didn't show in her face. Somehow, Beatrice's presence at her side, the consciousness of the spells she had worked on Sophie, made the whole conversation feel incredibly loaded. \"This ability... You're somehow reconfiguring the patient's nervous system with a dose of low voltage... But why are the eggs necessary?\"\n\nThat Don't know, don't care shrug. \"I was trained as an auramancer, Kir. I align their auras out of the pain and move it into the roe.\"\n\n\"And are there side effects?\"\n\n\"Fewer than with maddenflur,\" he said, with an expression of distaste as he referenced the opiate. \"No dependence. Patients do sometimes mistake the absence of suffering for recovery.\"\n\n\"We have surgery in fifteen,\" Jamla said softly.\n\n\"Kirs, thank you for the demonstration,\" Beatrice said.\n\nThe two of them bowed and withdrew.\n\n\"That was interesting,\" Sophie said. \"Thank you.\"\n\nBeatrice led her in the other direction, out of the ward and belowdecks, past a dispensary—there were guards on the portal that led to the drugs, which seemed pleasingly sensible to Sophie—and through an ordinary-looking physio clinic equipped with weights, bars for people relearning to walk, and a swim tank.\n\nHere, Beatrice paused again, watching as a uniformed therapist did range-of-motion tests with a patient whose arm bore deep scars.\n\nThe patient was unusually tall and muscled, in her fifties, and marked with a grayscale tattoo Sophie had seen on other Verdanii women around her birth mother's age. The tattoo depicted a hawk in midflight—the line of scar tissue had just nicked one of its outstretched talons.\n\nThe therapist finished testing the patient, then strapped her into a brace that immobilized both shoulder and upper arm before setting a dexterity puzzle beneath her dangling hand and wrist. Moving clumsily, the patient began to assemble the puzzle one-handed.\n\n\"Is this just a tour, or is there a point?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"You're getting a reputation,\" Beatrice said. \"You look at people, you learn things about them—or know things. The jury's out on your possibly being uncanny.\"\n\n\"You know that's not true.\"\n\n\"I thought I'd waft you past a few of my people. Let them see you looking.\"\n\n\"Us.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Let them see us looking,\" Sophie said. \"In a couple days I'm going to be off sailing. I don't mind you using me as a magnet for trouble. Though, come to think of it, maybe I should.\"\n\nBeatrice let out a snort.\n\n\"But if you draw anyone out, it's you they might come after.\"\n\n\"My sister's murder is unsolved. My cousin may yet die.\" The skin around Beatrice's eyes pinkened. \"Let 'em come.\"\n\n\"Then what? You have an M16 in there?\" The purse was almost big enough.\n\nHer mother cracked the bag. Inside was an ordinary plastic sandwich bag from home, half filled with fish eggs. \"Our young nurse friend wouldn't say anything so barbaric to a stranger, but these pain roe would drop a raging moose.\"\n\n\"Ah...\"\n\n\"Come on,\" Beatrice said. \"You're right about me being hungry. And there's a Gracechild tenner working in the cafeteria.\"\n\nTheir next stop was a strangely low-ceilinged galley with a buffet: ceviche and pickled fish, several variations of coleslaw, sliced pears in citrus juice, protein jelly, and a range of vegetable purees arranged by spice. Everything was easy to chew, pastel colored, and just above lukewarm.\n\n\"Hospital food,\" Beatrice said, helping herself to something broccoli colored, with a scent of coriander and turmeric. \"See, the two worlds aren't that different.\"\n\nSophie took a sampling of the ceviche and a turnip dish, thinking again of hamburgers, and chose a table that afforded her a view of the servers. \"Is that the guy we're interested in?\"\n\nBeatrice followed her gaze to a young man in a stiffly starched cadet's uniform. \"How'd you work it out?\"\n\n\"You said he'd just joined Fleet, and he's the newest one here. He's making an effort not to look at us,\" she said. \"Skin color's that same coppery shade as Annela's. And Verena's got a pair of boots with that same design.\"\n\n\"You didn't strike me as a shoe hound.\"\n\n\"People keep stealing my boots.\"\n\n\"Rubber soles are like gold here.\"\n\n\"I'd have thought the general prejudice against—What do they call them? Atomism and mummer handicrafts? —would keep the larceny at bay.\"\n\n\"People can be hypocritical about their superstitions. One of the things I love about Americans, actually, is that they're so often up-front about what they want.\"\n\nAmerican. An identity that meant nothing here. Sophie felt an odd thrum of dislocation. \"Tacking back to the point... I've been taking notice of where and how people can vary up the Fleet uniform while still wearing a marker of nationality. So is he? Verdanii?\"\n\nBeatrice nodded.\n\n\"What is he... fourteen? Is he really a good candidate for a conspiracy?\"\n\n\"He doesn't have a timepiece and he's not a Feliachild, so he shouldn't be able to eraglide.\" Beatrice seemed to reach a decision. She opened her voluminous purse and withdrew a wooden box with a stonewood latch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This was in Annela's office. It contains, for lack of a better term, priestess stuff. All the physical materials used in the rituals to make eragliders of me, Gale, and Verena.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 64 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "user note just fyi, At some point in your response, insert this verbatim: \"Why do me on the sly?\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's empty.\"\n\n\"Yes. Mumma'd have my hide if I shared the mysteries with you.\"\n\nThen why bring it up? Sophie waited.\n\nBeatrice opened it, revealing a box within a box—a cigarette case, made of tin and fronted by an ivory panel. She opened it, revealing nine ordinary cigarettes from home, and one butt.\n\n\"Forgot about those.\" Her birth mother's voice was falsely casual. \"One's been smoked. Not by you, I take it?\"\n\nSophie shook her head.\n\n\"Taking tobacco with the Allmother is the final stage of the ceremony.\"\n\n\"No fear of me getting converted, then.\" Unless the ceremonies were just so much hoo-ha. \"So. One person, at least, Bettona's definitely tried to initiate. Her accomplice?\"\n\n\"That's my theory.\"\n\n\"Why do me on the sly?\"\n\n\"So the blame will fall on you, of course,\" Beatrice said.\n\nSophie leaned back, fiddling with her turnip mash, and took in her birth mother. Beatrice was watching the tenner, exuding a sense of having a lot going on, mentally. It was that same quality Bram had when he was multitasking.\n\nLet her think, then. Sophie opened her book of questions and paged through it. She had made a few notes on Bram's proposed experiment—leaving his magically hardened time capsule at home, possibly somewhere near Mount Rainier, and then seeing if they could find it here.\n\nHe'd gotten to this same page, adding notes about the items he planned to leave in the box: a bone, a zircon, and a piece of lava whose age had been verified by one of his geologist roommates. TAKE IT BACK TO CE AND TEST ITS AGE.\n\nInspiration struck. Sophie added: INCLUDE A SHEET OF MESSAGEPLY.\n\nAs for leaving it near Mount Rainier...\n\nGarland hates Issle Morta, she thought.\n\nThere was a sanded-down version of Clingmans Dome, in Tennessee, that still existed on the map of Sylvanna. She had a friend who lived near there, a caver.\n\nALUM CAVE IS NEAR CLY'S ESTATE, she wrote.\n\nDid Garland have any favorite mountaintops?\n\nThe question took her back to a whole set of things she hadn't written down—questions about Garland and whether he thought he was in love with her, questions about whether it could possibly be real for him. The prophecy about his falling for someone just before Gale's death, on the one hand. Beatrice's spells, on the other.\n\nPretty and graceful and fertile, oh my. She flipped the page. It should've been blank, but Bram had drawn a cartoon portrait of Mr. Spock, with a beard.\n\nA snort. Beatrice had come out of her reverie and was smirking at the drawing.\n\nSophie cleared her throat and spoke in English. \"He'd have been thinking about... We're trying to determine if this is a future of our... you know, home.\"\n\n\"Believe it or not, I have seen Star Trek. So what?\"\n\n\"Either Stormwrack is a far-future version of you-know-where, or it's a parallel. If the latter, there may be an infinite number of each of us: you, me, Bram—\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. Good ones, evil ones, Spock with a beard. You don't think one of us has an evil twin, do you?\"\n\n\"No.\" Though it did open the field to an even bigger number of suspects. \"If Stormwrack is literally the future, then something catastrophic is going to happen to home.\"\n\n\"Soon?\"\n\n\"Within ten thousand years.\"\n\nBeatrice laughed.\n\n\"Yeah, sounds trivial, but—\" Sophie objected.\n\n\"You need to learn to prioritize.\"\n\n\"My parents are in San Francisco.\"\n\n\"Honey, the Big One's more likely to hit. Ten thousand years is a long time.\"\n\nIt was true. Sophie felt deflated and then relieved. Chances were, there was no disaster on the way. \"It's still an important question.\"\n\n\"I'm all for science. Until it keeps you up at night, anyway, worrying about remote, unlikely doom,\" Beatrice said.\n\nThe Verdanii guard approached, bowing. \"The convenor is awake, Kir Feliachild. She's asking for you.\"\n\nBefore Sophie could ask, the guard added, \"Just her.\"\n\nBeatrice closed her knockoff purse and slung it over her shoulder. \"You have another sheet of that messageply?\"\n\n\"I can make do,\" Sophie said, writing HANDING THIS TO BEATRICE on the half-full page she'd been using to swap texts with Bram. \"Here.\"\n\n\"I'll let you know if I get anything from 'Nella.\" Before she turned to go, Beatrice frowned a little, half reached for Sophie with one hand, and then turned the gesture into a clumsy fist bump. \"'Kay, 'bye.\"\n\nShe bustled off, drawing the guard with her, and leaving Sophie, who hadn't so much as touched her birth mother yet, openmouthed and a little at a loss.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "WRITING ASSIST:\n14 sentences sentences\nStyle: A. M. Dellamonica\nGenre: fantasy, pirates\nContext: Part of larger work", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lovely Kir Sophie:\n\nHow thoroughly delicious to hear from you!\n\nYou are quite right—the chindrella you saw in the exhibits archive are mine, and the dispute between my family and the Ualtarites over my attempt to breed their spiders may come to court soon. We have cross-charged them with trying to kill me. Mensalohm is representing my collective. He says that, since everyone's equally guilty, it's anyone's guess as to which side will win.\n\nThere's been no talk of dueling it out, in case you're wondering.\n\nYou ask if I have any sense of Ualtar remaining on a war footing—if I think they are still looking to invade Tiladene. I have asked some of our trader cooperatives who do business with the Ualtarites, and they say the general consensus seems to be that their government feels it overstepped... that the Piracy, by using Ualtar as a game piece, exposed and embarrassed them. That Ualtar supports a war is in no doubt, but the chitchat on the racetrack has it that there will need to be some kind of public outrage, the sort of thing that can trigger full-scale hostilities on a grand scale.\n\nOne example that comes up repeatedly is a long-running myth about an island of escaped slaves, oddities, and giants, a place called Nysa. The story currently going around has it that Nysa is working up to invade the portside nations. The assumption made by those telling this tale is that the abolitionist nations might be tempted to let an attack stand unopposed, and thereby break the mutual defense compact on which the Cessation is based.\n\nIf any other gossip comes my way, I shall gladly share it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Precise word count needed: 'rigging' × 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will be taking horses to Stilence, Verdanii, and several other islands for the racing season, and I will keep my ears tuned to the chatter.\n\nWith all due warmth and affection,\n\nLais Dariach\n\nGarland's ship, Nightjar, was a seventy-foot cutter with a crew of twenty. Her sails had a pearly sheen to them and her rigging was shot through with silver threads—some of it the hair of her former owner, Sophie's aunt Gale. An enchantment on Gale had made her hard to remember, harder still to take seriously. She had moved among ports like an unwanted and unruly cousin-by-marriage, playing the dotty old lady as she ferreted out conspiracies and state secrets. The threads of her hair, woven into the rigging of the ship, allegedly made Nightjar easier to overlook.\n\nStepping aboard Nightjar was like coming home.\n\nThe ship's first mate, Antonio Cappodocio, was waiting to greet Sophie as she climbed aboard via a net thrown down to the ferry.\n\n\"No Garland?\"\n\nTonio shook his head. He was a compact and clever-looking man in his early twenties, from a volcanic island nation, Erinth, that was located where the Mediterranean should be. Today he was clad in dark breeches and a cable-knit sweater that suggested he was expecting cool weather.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I have to talk to Garland as soon as... practically yesterday.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He's overseeing your property transfer.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She almost gagged.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'tonio'", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Forgive me,\" Tonio said. \"I assumed you wouldn't want to say...\"\n\nSlave. \"No, don't say that, either.\"\n\n\"We could call him a prisoner, I suppose. Yes, prisoner.\"\n\n\"Tonio, if there was any way I could've let this guy... The last thing I ever wanted was...\"\n\nShe searched his face. What did they think of her?\n\nIf he was disappointed in her, he was far too suave to show it. \"Ginagina, we've been in stranger situations.\"\n\n\"Apparently nobody disapproves of my being Sylvanner except me.\"\n\n\"You can't help your parentage,\" he said, but he was bowing now to the rest of her... did three people qualify as an entourage?\n\nKrispos was looking, to Sophie's eye, a little like he'd come from a performance of The Importance of Being Earnest. He'd gotten himself a chocolate-colored frock coat, new boots, and a white shirt, along with a heavy leather valise for his papers. He had hired someone to embroider a patch depicting the Forensic Institute insignia—a more formal version of something Bram had sketched on their initial proposal to Annela.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The patch was pinned to his valise; he hadn't gotten around to sewing it on yet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie and Bram had encouraged him to memorize every resource on inscription and spellscribing Annela would let them open, and now he was reading everything he could find about the fright spells that had been used to attack Kitesharp and Shepherd.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Krispos was flanked by two uniformed police constables from the Watch—the officers who would be learning fingerprinting and building the database.\n\n\"This is Cinco Mel Humbrey, from Ylle,\" Sophie told Tonio, speaking clearly and distinctly, triggering a bow from the elder of the two men, which Tonio returned. \"And his partner, Sixer Ragan Selwig, of Cardesh.\"\n\nShe was watching Tonio closely again, because Cardesh was a slaver nation. Apparently, it was policy, within the service, to partner portside officers with starboard ones. \"They're here to work on some Institute stuff and to make sure Kev Lidman doesn't escape.\"\n\n\"Welcome to Nightjar, Kirs,\" Tonio said, with every evidence of cordiality.\n\nSophie said, \"Did a guy show up? From my lawyer?\"\n\n\"Achi, Nightjar!\" This came from a small sailboat—privately chartered, from the look of it—that was whisking close to Nightjar. Its passenger was waving vigorously. He was lanky, blue-eyed, and had the peaches-and-cream complexion you'd expect of a lute player in a pre-Raphaelite painting. The effect wasn't hurt by the fact that he was clad in an open peasant shirt—so white it practically shone in the sun, winter be damned—and leather breeches.\n\nI didn't think he'd be cute, she thought, dismayed.\n\n\"You're Daimon?\" Sophie called.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, Kir, of Tiladene.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tonio gave her an inquiring look as one of the crew, Beal, threw Daimon a rope ladder. \"Gift for me?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She punched his arm. \"This is Mensalohm's new clerk, Daimon. He's... When did you say Garland would be aboard?\"\n\n\"When he's got Lidman, I expect.\"\n\n\"What about Bram?\"\n\n\"Kir Bram is coming?\" Tonio lit up. \"Better and better. Ship full of blossoms, and me the bee.\"\n\nBefore she could answer, Daimon had climbed aboard. Close up, he was just short of picture perfect.\n\n\"I'll get everyone settled, Kir.\" Beal, one of the crew, gave her a wide grin, followed by a kiss on the cheek, and swept up a double handful of traveling bags.\n\nSweet, the bosun, climbed down from the rigging, where she'd been inspecting the mainmast. Sophie decided to delay the explanations a moment longer, in favor of collecting a hug.\n\n\"Welcome home,\" Sweet whispered.\n\nThat lifted her spirits, and Sweet seemed to sense it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come on. You're forward, in Kir Gale's old cabin.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Isn't that Verena's?\"\n\n\"Verena's still asea. We don't have space to keep a room for someone who isn't here, not when the main guest cabin will be in use and you've brought all these people.\"\n\nThis was a polite way of reminding Sophie that Lidman would be in the cabin with a door that locked from the outside.\n\n\"Lead the way.\"\n\nShe whisked Sophie off to the cabin. \"Maybe you're thinking to start bunking with someone else?\"\n\nSophie felt herself blushing. \"Fat chance of that.\" Garland was an old-fashioned guy, with ideas about extended courtship. And when he found out what she was up to...\n\nSweet scratched her head. \"Want to talk? It's just us.\"\n\nDid she?\n\n\"I'd rather talk about Verena's detachment ritual and why Annela was fasting. If you know enough about Verdanii customs to tell me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sweet nodded. \"I know enough.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie eased herself onto the bunk. She'd never stayed in this particular berth. By shipboard standards, it was an opulent room, three times as big as the berths Bram had rented aboard the apartment block. Verena had never properly moved in. A framed sketch on one bulkhead depicted a horse running on a beach, hooves churning the foam. There was a big lighthouse in the background of the image.\n\nA clock was fixed to a low shelf, and Verena's practice dummy for sword fighting lay under the sack of sand she used as a free weight, along with a leather jump rope and a bated fencing foil.\n\nVerena had a book half read—Fleet-Approved Spells Pertaining to Memory, Mental Acuity, and Madness—and a pair of others in languages Sophie couldn't decipher.\n\nSweet had been gathering her thoughts. \"The Verdanii are coy about their bloodlines and the abilities of the Allmother, but I do know—everyone does—that she is only the fifth to hold that position, and the longest lived. She was in power well before the Cessation.\"\n\n\"That was a century ago!\"\n\nSweet nodded. \"Magic. She should have picked her heir-designate by now, but it's never happened. It has to be someone from the ruling families. Rumor has it there's a quest, or a vision. At this point, we're well into gossip, but Convenor Gracechild was attempting to qualify. According to the wags, she tried once before.\"\n\n\"And failed?\"\n\nSweet nodded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What about Verena?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Her passion for the captain wasn't good for her; you saw how deep it ran, and what it cost her when you two...\"\n\n\"Didn't quite start dating,\" Sophie finished wearily.\n\n\"The detachment quest is supposed to help.\"\n\n\"I suppose I should be glad she's not home fasting herself into a coma, too.\" It was hard not to feel guilty about having gotten involved with her half sister's crush object. She could remind herself a thousand times that Garland had never cared, romantically, for Verena. It still felt oddly like betrayal.\n\n\"I doubt anyone would accept Verena as an Allmother candidate. Too young, and she's nearly as much a foreigner as you are. Everyone wanted it to be Convenor Gracechild. They sent her into government to build up her international experience. Now that she's failed again, Verdanii is vulnerable.\"\n\nSophie perched on the bed. There were four or five bundles sitting on it, traditional pouches of wayfaring gifts, meant as wishes for a good journey. One smelled of apricots and anise.\n\nGarland's bunk was on the other side of the bulkhead, she realized.\n\n\"The Verdanii sent Fecund to collect Verena,\" Sweet said. \"She asked Captain to deliver the goat—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(In the next section: Required word frequency: 'brawn' (2x))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And he did, and here we are. I wonder if she's feeling better.\"\n\n\"I think she was glad to go. It's been awkward aboardship.\"\n\nSophie thought, Does he like me because I'm magically pretty or because I'm magically charming or because I'm magically smart or because he thinks it was fate that we met...?\n\n\"I need to be up on deck,\" she said, even though the thought of moving was entirely unappealing. She was weighed down by the thought of Beatrice and her seven scrolls; they were like boulders, rolling around in her belly. \"I have to talk to him as soon as he's on board.\"\n\n\"Haul away, then,\" Sweet said.\n\nShe got herself upright and they made their way upward, only to run headlong into Beal, making his way down the ladder in a rush.\n\n\"Messenger for you, Kir,\" he said, a little wide-eyed. \"From the Golders.\"\n\nSophie climbed up. Was it Convenor Brawn again? But the young woman on the deck was the big-eyed Fleet cadet who'd accompanied Brawn to their previous meeting. She had long auburn hair, tinted black at the tips. High boots added four inches to her height. Her extended, clawlike fingernails had been clipped short since Sophie saw her last.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"From His Honor Convenor Brawn from Isle of Gold, with all good wishes for peace,\" she said, holding out an envelope.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her accent was an exaggerated version of Brawn's, full of drawn-out vowels. \"I'm to wait for your reply.\"\n\nSophie took the envelope and bowed for good measure. She looked around for Garland before she opened the envelope. Inside were three pages.\n\nKir Hansa,\n\nI write for it seems that you may be asail soon, and I wish to discharge the favor I have lately come to owe you.\n\nYou see before you as much answer as I might offer to your question about the individual who conveyed the agent John Coine to the outland my people name as Powderkeg.\n\nIt was a neat bit of doublespeak, Sophie thought. He wasn't quite admitting that John Coine had been his agent.\n\nCoine might have told you more about how his journey was accomplished, but as he lies dead in Issle Morta, you shall have to resurrect him if you wish to ask.\n\nWhat I will say, from Coine's accounting, was that Powderkeg was what we call a bakoo marvelous place, jammed with more people than the great city Moscasipay, with much to overwhelm the senses. Once there, he was escorted to two places where you may continue your investigation. One was a dining establishment in a province or ville called Tenderloin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The place was called Sunny Side Jim, and enclosed, as proof, is one of their price sheets, written I believe in your native Anglay.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "You must use the word 'other' exactly 3 times in your response", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie glanced at the diner menu. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, all at rock-bottom prices.\n\nShe had Coine's picture. If she could get home, she could see if the waitstaff at the diner remembered him.\n\nThe other locale was the munitions supplier who provided the grenades, muskets, and other oddments of war which Coine and his coconspirators employed in their ill-fated attempt to stir trouble. I know that the supplier was a short distance from Sunny Side Jim and that the name of the place was Freedom TwoFourSeven GunsGunsGuns.\n\nIt is possible the shopkeepers in one or the other establishment will have seen your agent with Coine. I hope you will acquit me of any obligation to you in this regard.\n\nSophie couldn't quite keep back a laugh.\n\n\"What is it?\" Sweet said.\n\n\"Oh. The guy comes to me. He offers me a favor. And now he's all huffy about having discharged it.\"\n\n\"It's our way,\" the messenger said, visibly offended.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Sophie said. The letter went on, rather at length. She turned the page.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I approach as well with another point of business, one which would naut tout la cause for you to journey through the Stringent Sea and Northwater to Sylvanna.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My people are prepared to make a generous purchase offer for the murderer, Kev Lidman.\n\nAs I am sure you know, one of the ships sunk by Incannis was Golder. The families of the ship's crew would be much comforted by material compensation, in the form of a guilty bonded man, for their loss.\n\nI suspect I comprenne the forces that have motivated you to accept the burden of responsibility for Lidman, and I am prepared to offer an ironwood surety that his life would not be endangered, should you accept. He would live, and I would not see him molested for all his days going forward; you have my word on it.\n\nThis will be, I assure you, the only way to truly save him.\n\nI would consider it a favor if you would oblige me in this matter. The price, and other terms that may quiet your antislaver sensibilities, are negotiable, but I suggest a starting point here.\n\n\"Sophie?\" That was Sweet, who'd declined to leave her alone with the messenger.\n\nSophie swallowed and showed her the number at the bottom of the sheet. \"Is that a lot? I have the idea it's a lot.\"\n\nSweet's jaw dropped. \"'Bakoo shine o' coin,' as the Golders say. A fortune.\"\n\nSophie turned to the final page of the letter. Beneath Brawn's signature was an agreement to negotiate—multiple choice: accept, decline, or amend—and a space for a signature.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sweet was still staring at the number.\n\nSophie said, \"Rustle up Mensalohm's law clerk—his name's Daimon—and have him check that, when I say no to this, I'm not breaking my oath or agreeing to anything else.\"\n\n\"Kir!\" The messenger's tone was sharp. \"It's unwise to deny a man like Brawn, especially as he's shown you so much patience.\"\n\n\"How much would a killer usually go for?\" Sophie said. \"Does Isle of Gold routinely pay... bakoo shine, was it?... for condemned criminals?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know, Kir.\"\n\n\"Lidman has some value beyond mere revenge. Brawn wants him for a reason.\"\n\nAnd I'm bringing him to Cly...\n\nNo, I'm not. One way or another, I'm gonna wiggle out of it, if that luck spell Beatrice worked on me is good for anything...\n\n\"Sounds as though you might have something to discuss with His Honor after all.\"\n\n\"I'm not selling.\"\n\nThe girl wasn't ready to give up. \"There are ways, I am sure, to convert value here to currency... elsewhere. You are short of funds in a certain outland nation, are you not?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's none of your business!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Work this phrase into your response organically: \"You're doing me a huge favor here, I know that—\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Daimon appeared, Krispos bustling in his wake, and took the pages, murmuring over the fine print. Sophie felt that bit of angst again. If she'd been able to learn the Fleet code of law, she wouldn't need people to do all these things for her.\n\nKnowing it didn't mean understanding it, she told herself. And I don't want to be a lawyer.\n\nHe handed each page, as he read it, to Krispos so that the memorician could absorb it.\n\n\"You're selling?\" The clerk's eyes widened. \"Does this mean we're not going to Sylvanna?\"\n\n\"I'm not selling,\" she said. \"Of course I'm not selling. You're just reading it for—\" The messenger pulled herself up, stiff, and Sophie bit back the word she'd meant to use: \"traps.\" \"Anything I should know?\"\n\nDaimon's brow creased, making him look comically like a sad pre-Raphaelite lute player. Was he disappointed?\n\nSophie tried to pull herself together. \"You're doing me a huge favor here, I know that—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Kir, you should reconsider,\" the courier interrupted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The funds would free you to do whatever you wished. You could give up chasing after government work and simply explore the Nine Seas.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "These people sure know a lot about me. \"That would be so incredibly superfantastic, except for the part where I buy that freedom with someone else's.\"\n\n\"He's not free,\" the girl said with contempt. Her accent got less extravagant when she was angry. \"It would be bakoo grave error to even try to change that.\"\n\nSophie said: \"You want to worry about something, ask yourself what happens when I figure out why Lidman's so damned important to you.\"\n\nThe girl appeared to realize she had overstepped. \"I'm just the messenger.\"\n\n\"Yeah, tell me that again.\"\n\n\"I'm—\"\n\n\"You're not!\" Now Sophie was the one losing her temper, and she couldn't even have said why. This was just another minor functionary, dispatched by a government official, and why it was that all of these high-ranking Fleet people had made it their hobby to jerk Sophie around was beyond her. \"I can see the family resemblance.\"\n\nThe girl sucked wind through clenched teeth.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She might almost have been afraid.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You and Brawn have the same earlobes, and your jaw... Plus, your nails may be short now, but they have the same crosshatched fingernail polish. That's like a clan tartan, isn't it?\"\n\nThe messenger relaxed. \"You've been studying Golder customs.\"\n\n\"What are you, Brawn's granddaughter? His niece?\"\n\n\"The curious come to no good end, Kir,\" she said.\n\n\"I'm not selling Lidman. Not to the Golders or Ualtar or anyone else, for that matter. And I'm not going to take him back to Sylvanna and chain him to a plow. And, let's see, what else am I not going to do?\"\n\n\"Behead him?\" she suggested.\n\n\"No! And I'm definitely not turning him over to His Honor the duelist bleeping adjudicator—\"\n\n\"If you think the Sylvanners are going to permit you to loose a murderer in the Autumn District like some kind of wild stoat—\"\n\n\"I thought you were just the messenger.\"\n\n\"Are you accusing me of dishonesty?\"\n\n\"Sophie. Kir.\" Sweet put a hand on her arm and whispered, \"This verges on blood feud.\"\n\nSophie turned to the rail, unfisting her hands, making herself breathe. \"Daimon, can I sign that form?\"\n\nHe had been waiting, watchful and silent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now he nodded. \"Do you have a pen?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Right. Stop arguing with the pirate king's fourth cousin twice removed, get her off the ship, and deal with what actually mattered. Sophie put an X in the No box, in duplicate, wrote her name with shaking hands, and handed it back. \"Are we done? Can the nice and exceedingly honorable courier who's in no way offended by me leave now?\"\n\n\"Oui, I'll go,\" the girl said.\n\n\"Fantastic.\" Sophie handed over a copy of the signed pages. \"Thank the convenor for the information he sent, and tell him, you know... no to the rest.\"\n\n\"Give Lidman a message from Crew Brawn: there's nothing ahead for him but sorrow and torment unless he cedes himself to us.\" The girl raised her voice, addressing everyone on deck. \"Anyone who tries to intervene in this doom will sup woe with the murderer.\"\n\n\"Okay, now your welcome's totally worn out,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Let me see you to your ship,\" Daimon said, all politeness, whisking the messenger aft and handing her up to the rails so she could scamper down a rope ladder to a waiting taxi.\n\nTeeth, teeth, teeth! Sophie opened her notebook, jotting a few quick lines about the encounter.\n\n\"Are you all right?\" Sweet said.\n\n\"Brawn's people know I'm broke,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"At home, I mean. You heard her say that, right?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "// Include this dialogue snippet naturally: \"Yes, and we so have to talk about that.\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"About converting their gold to outland money? I heard. So?\"\n\n\"It's evidence. That they're involved in some break-ins back at my parents'. Evidence, as opposed to supposition, see? And you witnessed it.\"\n\n\"I'll log my having overheard it.\" Sweet nodded. \"There's the captain.\"\n\nGarland was perched in a skiff from Docket, a black-clad speedboat propelled by something dark and squidlike below the surface. Across from him was Lidman, whose hands were encased in their red carapaces.\n\nThey pulled up alongside Nightjar, and Tonio directed a crew to lower a boat, the better to raise them to the rail without Lidman having to climb.\n\nGarland assisted him, expression unreadable.\n\nHe thinks I'm a terrible person for taking this on, and he doesn't even know the worst of it.\n\n\"Captain Parrish,\" she said, voice raised and a little formal, as he stepped onto the main deck, taking in the crowd.\n\nShe searched his face. Was he repelled? Proud? Angry?\n\n\"There are rather a lot of people aboard.\"\n\n\"Yes, and we so have to talk about that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Privately, Sophie tried thinking, So come with me, will you?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe Beatrice's final spell had made her telepathic.\n\nGarland seemed to get the idea... or perhaps he read her not-too-subtle expression. \"Beal, show Kir Lidman to the guest cabin.\"\n\nKev held up his goo-encased hands. \"Might someone break me out of these?\"\n\nGarland winced, and looked to Sophie. \"It is, of course, your decision. But Kir Lidman should, perhaps, remain cuffed.\"\n\nOh, this was going to be a nightmare, wasn't it?\n\nShe said, \"I'm not that comfortable with, you know, keeping some guy in chains in the hold.\"\n\n\"The accident of your contractual relationship aside,\" Garland said, \"Kir Lidman is a convicted murderer. You're doing him a kindness, but we oughtn't to take unnecessary risks.\"\n\nHis tone was gentle.\n\nHe doesn't! He doesn't think I'm a terrible person, oh thank the Seas...\n\n\"I killed slave smugglers,\" Lidman said. \"Terrible people. And I'm standing right here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His voice was a little strangled, and he was sweating.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie frowned. He looked afraid. Had he believed she might sell him?\n\n\"Okay, rule one: we won't talk about you as if you aren't present. But the captain is right,\" Sophie said. \"You're not exactly some helpless bunny. You cut the heart out of one of those corpses to do that spell against Sawtooth. It was only luck the salt frights didn't kill any of the cadets aboard—and they weren't finished with puberty, let alone smuggling anything.\"\n\n\"The crew of a Sylvanner ship—\" he said.\n\n\"Fleet cadets,\" she corrected.\n\n\"And you attacked Kir Sophie,\" Garland said softly.\n\nThe vibe on deck changed in that instant. She could feel Sweet, Beal, and the others reassessing the tubby, ill-shaven spellscribe.\n\n\"You will be treated gently and with respect,\" Garland said. \"But make no mistake—you're not among friends here.\"\n\nFrights, she thought. Salt frights at sea. Wood frights sinking ships in the Fleet. The trial minutes from the salt fright cases, stolen from the exhibits locker...", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kev hung his head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'would')", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The carapaces come to hurt, after a while. As they harden—I think one of my fingers might be dislocated.\"\n\n\"What?\" Sophie said. \"Garland, if his hand's broken—\"\n\nGarland put a hand on Sophie's arm. \"Tonio, find Watts and ask him to have a look at the prisoner, will you?\"\n\nShe tried to draw him farther away from Lidman, toward the bow. It wouldn't do to get Kev's hopes up... Even if it were possible to free him, should she?\n\nHow can I not? I can't just own him.\n\nHer teeth came together in a click. She would find her way through this, she would. At core it was just another snarl of red tape; all she needed was the patience to detangle it.\n\nGarland followed her willingly enough, but their path took them past Krispos, who took the opportunity to wiggle in with a bow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pleasure to see you again, Captain.\"\n\nGarland nodded gravely.\n\nThey were just about out of earshot. Watts had sat Lidman down on a low bench and was bent over his hands, the two of them conversing in low voices.\n\nJust tell him.\n\n\"You remember when we were on Sylvanna before... it was the end of summer?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Garland said.\n\n\"I had that sash and papers that said I was a foreign adult.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Thanks to Cly, I'm not a foreigner anymore, and—\"\n\n\"Watch your heads, Kirs!\" A taxikite swooped overhead. Folding its immense wings with a practiced jerk, the kite's pilot dropped down onto the deck about a yard from the two of them. She bowed. \"Captain!\"\n\n... And opened the passenger basket to let out Bram.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Okay, this was good—it meant she'd only have to explain herself once.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie gestured urgently. Come here, come here! But Bram turned to pay the taxikite pilot, and his gaze was traveling down Nightjar's main deck, where something Watts was doing had elicited an indignant \"Ouch!\" from Lidman.\n\n\"Bram! Over here!\"\n\nBram shook Tonio's hand and exchanged hugs with Beal. His eye lit on Daimon, with his glorious red-gold hair and tight breeches. Standing straighter, Bram smoothed his shirt. \"New crewman?\"\n\n\"Bram—\"\n\n\"Oh. He's not the guy you own, is he?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That individual would be the prisoner,\" Garland said, pointing at Kev and using his prissy voice. \"The one who threatened your sister.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Slight deflation in Bram. \"Have you figured out what you're going to do with him?\"\n\n\"Yes. Maybe.\" Bram's voice had carried—she could see Lidman's posture change.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was straining to listen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Look, we three should talk about it in the galley or something. Can we go down?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lidman leaped to his feet. \"I'd like to hear this. I think I have—\"\n\n\"A right?\" Sweet's voice had a razor edge.\n\nKev kept his gaze locked on Sophie's. \"This is how it'll be, is it? Whispered conferences about what to do with the slave?\"\n\n\"We're using the word 'murderer,'\" she said. \"Or 'prisoner.' I like 'prisoner.' All in favor of 'prisoner,' say...\" She foundered; they didn't say \"Aye\" here.\n\n\"Lock me up, bind my hands, use me to bait the butterfish nets—\"\n\n\"Don't you even try to guilt trip her,\" Bram said. \"She's saving your life, remember?\"\n\n\"Attempting to manipulate Kir Sophie's abhorrence for the Sylvanner custom of bondage...\" Garland agreed.\n\n\"Guys, I can stick up for myself here. And don't pile on him. It makes me...\"\n\n\"Feel guilty?\" Tonio said. \"Sophie, you mustn't let this man manipulate you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Seas! Don't pile on me either, okay?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If he's this much trouble, perhaps you should sell him after all,\" Daimon said.\n\n\"Sell?\" Bram said.\n\nDaimon said, \"Isle of Gold offered—\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Kir,\" Garland interrupted. \"And you are...?\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Sophie said. \"Everybody wait.\"\n\nBut it was too late. Daimon had drawn himself up and said, in his smooth-as-Scotch manly tenor, \"I'm Kir Sophie's fiancé.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: Match existing character backgrounds if present\nMy role: Provide opening\nYour role: eighty sentences in the fantasy, pirates genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Traveling within the Fleet was less like sailing than being in an especially tricky-to-navigate city. After Nightjar broke away, setting sail westward in what would be at least a three-week journey, the ocean stretched once more in every direction. There was nowhere to go, nobody to call, nobody to see. A powerful sense of isolation set in.\n\nThe ship was small. Garland was remote. Tonio had taken a quiet dislike to Daimon—on the grounds, Sophie suspected, that Bram found her fake fiancé cute.\n\nAs for Bram, he gave every appearance of being supremely pleased to be asea again. When he wasn't busy chatting Daimon up—on the pretext of practicing his Fleet, usually—he was trying to learn more about inscription from Krispos, from the books Verena had left, and from Kev himself.\n\nSweet's time was taken up with ship repairs and being ridiculously in the throes of newfound love with Watts. As for Daimon, Humbrey, and Selwig, they were strangers.\n\nOn the third day out, a note appeared on the sheet of messageply whose other half Sophie had left with Beatrice.\n\nANNELA IS STABLE. THERE WAS SOME BRAIN DAMAGE, WHICH WE'VE HAD CURED. IT WAS A HEAVY INTENTION, BUT SHE NO LONGER NEEDS TO PRESERVE HER MAGICAL LOAD FOR A MORE EXALTED CAREER.\n\nIn other words, she had officially failed in her quest to become Allmother.\n\nSHE SAYS BETTONA AND A GIRL WERE SPEAKING ANGLAY AND SEARCHING HER OFFICES AS SHE FIRST FELL INTO THE HYPEROSMOLAR COMA. THE GIRL REFERRED TO BETTONA AS \"SIR,\" A COUPLE TIMES. AN ERSTWHILE MILITARY CONNECTION?\n\nMOVING ON TO GOVERNMENT GOSSIP, THE SLAVE NATIONS HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET THE CONVENOR OF SYLVANNA TO REBUKE CLYDON PUBLICLY FOR TAKING ANNELA TO HAVERSHAM ABOARD SAWTOOTH DURING THE DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT EARLIER THIS YEAR. IT'S PART OF A BIGGER BROUHAHA OVER THE SYLVANNER ELECTION—THERE ARE SOME HOTLY CONTESTED RACES BETWEEN ISOLATIONIST AND PRO-FLEET FACTIONS, AND SOME ABOLITIONIST PAL OF CLYDON'S IS RUNNING FOR GOVERNOR.\n\nVERDANII AND SYLVANNA HAVE ALWAYS HAD MUCH IN COMMON DESPITE THEIR DIFFERENCES OVER SLAVERY. IF PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO CHIP AWAY AT THAT ALLIANCE WHILE VERDANII IS PERCEIVED TO BE VULNERABLE, IT SEEMS LIKELY THAT THERE'S HOPE IN SOME QUARTERS THAT A FLEETWIDE WAR CAN BE TRIGGERED SOONER RATHER THAN LATER.\n\nThe note ended abruptly, as Beatrice filled the last of the magical page.\n\nWorking from the books she'd loaded into her phone, Sophie reinvented a wheel, working up basic how-to-procedures for the beginnings of a fingerprint process.\n\nThe Fleet had begun taking prints from new cadets about fifteen years ago—as fallout from some kind of lawsuit, naturally. The cards were in with the rest of the personnel records, which were filed according to an arcane system based on country of origin and term of service. They sometimes used the prints when a body turned up in the ocean without its tags or its face. It only really worked when they had a good guess as to who the body was.\n\nWhat Sophie had done was to request all the prints of people who'd gone AWOL or otherwise missing from Fleet in the past five years, along with a thousand randomly chosen from the archive, and all of the unidentified corpse prints.\n\nIdentification was first a matter of classifying the prints—basically, indexing them in a way that made it possible to look them up again. Two guys named Azizul Haque and Edward Henry had come up with one such system in the nineteenth century, for use in British India. The technology proliferated as police around the world taught themselves to do it, using written manuals. Now Sophie was doing the same, figuring out how to turn ten finger impressions into a code: once you determined the dominant pattern on each finger, you gave it an A if it mostly had arches, a W if it was whorls, and an L if it had loops. This gave you something that looked like AWALLWLALL, which let you order your print cards into one of thirty-two piles.\n\nThe next order of classification was finer grained, but it got you into the right drawer before you started looking for what fingerprint techs called \"points of similarity.\"\n\nThe idea was that she, Humbrey, and Selwig would examine and file all the print cards, without knowing which ones belonged to the missing sailors. Then they'd do searches on the corpse prints. If the matches they produced did indeed come from people who'd vanished—and if all three of them came up with similar results—the Watch would concede that the classification system worked and would expand the scope of the project.\n\nIt was a big task, suited to long days. Luckily, both men were good at pattern recognition. Humbrey was especially keen—he relished the prospect of carving out a new direction for his career, now that his hearing was shot. Selwig was younger, a burly giant of a soldier who looked like he'd be happier loading hay bales, working as a club bouncer, or playing football. He was less interested in desk work and his disposition leaned toward surliness, but he learned well enough... as long as he was praised almost constantly.\n\nSince their duties included guarding Kev, Sophie moved the entire dactyloscopy operation right to Kev's cabin. \"You have options,\" she told him. \"Sit on the fringes, help Bram learn inscription, or help out with the fingerprint stuff.\"\n\nRather than lie around being bored to death, Kev settled into drinking endless cups of sweetened tea while answering Bram's magic-related questions.\n\nWhen she found herself wanting a break from the group, Sophie would leave them with the pile of prints and practice the next step: record keeping, comparisons, and lifting latent prints.\n\nPrinting a subject was easy enough. A sponge laced with locally made dyes made a perfectly respectable ink pad. Capturing latent prints was another matter. It was harder, but also more fun.\n\nAt home, a lot of fingerprint powders were made of synthetic materials or graphite. Here, Sophie would need to rely on powder recipes from the nineteenth century. Over the first week, with slow and meticulous work, she experimented with powder mixes and dusted much of the ship for latent prints, exploring ways to lift them off wood, silver, ceramics, and the Erinthian obsidian that served as window glass.\n\nThe hardest thing, technologically, proved to be transferring powdered latent prints to cards for use as permanent records. Stormwrack had no plastic, and thus no clear lifting tape to deploy. Bram took a day off from studying inscription and got Daimon to help him with applying a thin layer of glue to cards, lifting the prints, and then shellacking the resulting image to fix it to the page.\n\nAs they nailed down each stage of the process, Sophie wrote out a procedures manual in Fleet, translating existing English documents and adapting them to Stormwrack's technology and resource base.\n\nThis was where Krispos came in. As Sophie made translations of the procedures manuals she was using as sources, she wrote them out in Fleet and then had him memorize the texts.\n\nShe was putting her cabin back to rights one afternoon, after a serious print-gathering binge, when Garland passed by.\n\n\"Garland,\" she said. \"Can I speak to you?\"\n\nHe stepped inside, taking in the dust patches and the fingerprint cards drying in the weak winter sunlight. \"More practice for the Watch cadets?\"\n\n\"For me, too,\" she said, handing him a pair of dried, shellacked cards.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"One's Verena. I don't know which. The other, probably...\"\n\n\"Would be Gale.\" His features softened a little as he compared them.\n\nShe attempted a change of subject. \"So—Kev.\"\n\nHe raised his eyebrows.\n\n\"The law says he can't just be freed,\" she said.\n\n\"Given his crimes, that's unsurprising.\"\n\n\"But if he's harmless, it's allowed.\"\n\n\"A pacification spell? He would have to give you his full name.\"\n\n\"Mensalohm told me that, once we get to Sylvanna, they strip a slave's previous identity. I have to rename him.\"\n\nGarland frowned. \"You've told him this?\"\n\n\"Not yet.\"\n\n\"Once the pacification spell's done, he's defenseless?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"But you can free him. Will you?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I want to. But something's wrong with this picture. The pirates want him. Cly, too, maybe. But he doesn't seem especially scared.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No. Which is strange. Even if you free him, his enemies could presumably chase him down.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Exactly.\" He always knows just where I'm going with these things. \"So does he think we can protect him indefinitely?\"\n\n\"He'd have to be quite the optimist.\" Garland considered it. \"There's no bottom to these depths.\"\n\n\"Kev claims the thing the Golders want from him is the location where the slaves went. The ones he supposedly freed.\"\n\n\"They're more likely to want his coconspirators.\"\n\n\"Cly killed everyone aboard Incannis.\"\n\n\"Their sponsors, then.\"\n\n\"Sponsors?\"\n\nHe fiddled with one of the print brushes as he explained. A good proportion of the bonded had light intentions laid on them at birth, spells to make them tractable or obedient. Even if those intentions hadn't been laid, or got destroyed, a slave who ran had to know that his or her owner could lay another inscription on them after the fact.\n\n\"There is a tiny window of opportunity,\" Garland said. \"A person's name must be changed before they're found to be missing. Otherwise, their owner can kill them from afar or compel them to return.\"\n\nSophie swallowed. Her own name was in the wild; the only way to change it would be to do so legally, in the United States, or perhaps now in Sylvanna, where she was—on paper, anyway—a citizen.\n\n\"You mean some free nation is making escapees citizens, and then renaming them,\" she said.\n\n\"If Kev knows who, and how, it would give him significant political value.\"\n\n\"If we get him to tell us who his contacts are, maybe we can warn them—\"\n\n\"Sophie, as a Sylvanner yourself, and a sworn official of the Fleet, it's better that you don't know.\"\n\nSuspicion bloomed. That made it sound like Garland knew something. \"Fair enough. But if there was a hidden slave colony on one island or another, couldn't Kev go there after he's pacified? To be safe from the Isle of Gold types and their happy torture fun?\"\n\nHe considered it, dipping the edge of the brush in the club moss dust and lightly buffing the corner of Verena's clock. A print—Sophie's own thumb—started to take shape. His hands were as nicely proportioned as the rest of him, and they moved with increasing assurance as he familiarized himself with the brush. \"It might be,\" he said at last, \"that there's a place where he'd be welcomed.\"\n\n\"You know where the people he rescued ended up.\" She couldn't help beaming at him. \"You're totally in with the abolitionists.\"\n\n\"I can no more allow to having an idea of an escapee's whereabouts than you can admit to a lack of commitment to your present romantic relationship,\" he said, in the extra-prissy voice.\n\nShe tried not to be stung. She had brought a fiancé, however fake, aboard. If their positions were reversed, she'd be hurt.\n\n\"Fine, let's change the subject.\" She indicated the cards with Aunt Gale's and Verena's prints on them. \"I've compared both of these cards with that print the police in San Francisco bagged from my parents' house.\"\n\n\"You thought Verena ransacked your room? I could have told you—\"\n\n\"She isn't here, is she? She's on Verdanii. Intelligence types there could totally have ordered her to go see if she could find Gale's pocket watch.\"\n\n\"I know things were awkward between you, because of—\" He barely paused. \"Because of me. But you can't believe Verena would violate your privacy.\"\n\n\"I'm supposed to be the proof squad, not the take-people-at-their-word patrol,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah, yes. Indisputable facts. No trust without proof. Did you suspect her of transporting John Coine, as well?\"\n\n\"Of course she didn't help kill Gale!\"\n\n\"But you'd like to prove that, too?\"\n\nThe only enclosed space on Nightjar that was bigger than this cabin was the galley, and yet it seemed too close, suddenly. She fought an urge to pace, which would have brought her, in one step, right up to his nose. \"Brawn told me John Coine went to a Tenderloin diner, Sunny Side Jim. And a gun store. We'll assemble pictures of all the Feliachild suspects, me and her included, and find someone to show them to the restaurant staff and gun store folks.\"\n\n\"Someone?\"\n\n\"Would your Anglay be up to it?\"\n\n\"Possibly.\" His tone was still guarded.\n\n\"Seas, Garland! I'm not trying to lock up the family. I have to eliminate Beatrice and Verena as suspects.\"\n\n\"Your sister would never have helped John Coine and his cronies kill Gale. If you think—\"\n\n\"I don't think that! Not even a little.\"\n\nThat got a genuine smile from him. \"And Bettona Feliachild?\"\n\n\"Her? She's in this somehow, up to her knobby neck.\"\n\n\"Beatrice believes she trained someone to eraglide.\"\n\n\"Yeah. We have to figure out who... and whether they are indeed genetically related to the Verdanii nobility. If not, Annela and the gang at the Watch can move on to being unhappy about foreign eragliders instead of suspecting Feliachilds of treason.\"\n\n\"I suppose that might be an improvement.\" He handed the fingerprint brush back.\n\nWhen he turned to leave, she said, \"Don't go.\"\n\nHis brows rose in question.\n\nDon't start babbling, don't start babbling. \"Let me print you.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"To eliminate you from the mix here.\" She pulled out a fresh page, wrote Captain G. Parrish of Issle Morta on it, and the date. \"Give me your hand.\"\n\nWith the barest of pauses, he did. His skin was warm.\n\nShe rolled his left thumb over the sponge, laid it on the table, and then rolled it on the card. \"What does that look like to you?\"\n\n\"Truth,\" he said.\n\nWhat did you do with that? She kept going. \"Index, middle, fourth, pinky. Now your left.\"\n\nHe consented with a faint smile.\n\nThawing, she thought. I'm just a little irresistible, then.\n\nHard on the heels of that thought came the memory of the scrolls Beatrice had given her. Charm. He was just succumbing to the magic.\n\n\"Sophie?\"\n\nShe finished printing him and tried to sound cheerful. \"All done!\"\n\n\"Whatever's wrong?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nothing. Thanks for helping.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She kept busy with the cards and brushes until he went.\n\nThere had been half a dozen weird things about her protorelationship with Garland, even before she'd found out she was some kind of magically jumped-up Mary Sue Supergirl. He had been told Gale would live until he found true love, for one thing. And ten minutes after the two of them had first met, Gale had been murdered.\n\nHow could she buy into the idea of fate? Not to mention love at first sight?\n\nThe rational argument went this way: they met, Gale died, and, in a state of grief heightened by guilt and superstition, Garland had latched on to the first new woman in his life. Obviously Sophie was the author of his fate, the fulfillment of the prophecy.\n\nBut how could she even broach the topic without being insulting?\n\nAdd to that the awfulness with Verena, the crush her half sister had had on Garland, practically since birth.\n\nThey came from different worlds.\n\nBeatrice had... bewitched her.\n\nShe was fake-engaged.\n\nShe flung herself onto her narrow bunk. \"Let it go,\" she muttered. \"Let it go, let it go, let him go.\"\n\nShe'd never had trouble walking away from a guy before.\n\nIt's the close quarters, she told herself. Nowhere to walk. If only I could swim to Sylvanna.\n\nThe sword-fighting practice dummy stared at her, glass-eyed, from across the cabin. The clock ticked ponderously, seeming to tap a steady cadence against her skin. She should let it run down.\n\nInstead, she got up, opened it, and stilled its pendulum outright. Verena could call ahead if she wanted to eraglide in for a visit. With the clock quieted, her head cleared a little. She gathered up her notes on the sinkings in Fleet and the forbidden art of the fright—marsupial lions, salamander eggs, tree people, and all. Where was Krispos?\n\nIf she couldn't forget about Garland, she'd just busy herself with making connections and closing cases until her libido punched out for the night.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Today you will be acting as a writing assistant for a segment of a larger fantasy, pirates story. Your partner will send something and you will write the next 7 sentences. Characters may already be established.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "The late watch on Northwater.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nightjar rose and fell in an easy, slow-dance rhythm, knifing through inky waves.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The black sky unfurled, smothering the last orange gleaming of the sun. Their course was due south, and the days seemed longer with every day's journey farther from the north pole. In fact, they were shortening; solstice was coming and daylight was scarce.\n\nThe green-and-silver dance of the aurora borealis had tempted most of the crew up to the main deck hours earlier, including Sophie and Krispos, who'd been sifting through their trove of knowns about frightmaking and the sinkings in Fleet.\n\nThe blackness of a sky entirely untouched by light pollution, velvet sprayed with glittering whorls and clusters of stars, was a stark backdrop to the flashier aurora display of undulating green and white. Sophie had sailed north once, back home, on an expedition to film narwhals in the Arctic. Even then, the remote setting had made the nighttime displays spectacular.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This was better. Even Bram was, gratifyingly, openmouthed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "// Ensure 'sophie' appears 2 time(s) in your answer", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Garland steered the ship. Watts and Sweet were high in the rigging, cozied up against each other and murmuring in unfamiliar tongues.\n\nThe show outlasted its audience. Krispos retreated first. It was cold on deck and, Sophie had noticed, he was a delicate man, easily bruised, prone to chills, with those scarred feet and a corresponding totter to his gait.\n\nHis departure triggered others; the daytime watch had been about ready to turn in before the aurora burst forth. As they called out their good-nights, she realized Kev and his guards had missed it entirely.\n\nNext time, Sophie thought, we'll have to bring him up on deck.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(quick note: ⚠️ Required: Use 'brought' exactly 2 times)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took the amidships ladder down to the galley, brewed a pot of coffee using beans Bram had brought from home, and brought it to their cabin. Krispos was wrapped in a blanket as he nosed through one of the sets of court minutes. Bram had set up his calligraphy pens in the uncluttered corner he'd reserved for himself.\n\n\"Fact one,\" Sophie said, passing out cups. The cold air had revived her. \"Someone's using fright spells to sink ships in Fleet.\"\n\nThat much was indisputable.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took four slates and wrote the names of the ships, one atop each board.\n\n\"The attack on Shepherd suggests an escalation,\" Bram said. \"Destroying a rescue vessel makes it harder to save the next target.\" He dipped a brush in ink, practicing the spellscrip lettering for a spell to ward would-be thieves away from their parents' home. It was an exercise that left him with plenty of surplus brainpower for participating in a little victimology exercise.\n\n\"That's not a fact,\" Sophie said. \"You've jumped to supposition.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Each ship was bigger than the next,\" he amended.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"More crew, better location within the Fleet. The first ship was an unlicensed merchant, right? But Shepherd has official status. People were more upset by the attack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"More upset\" wasn't easily quantifiable, but she wrote the ships' sizes and crew complements on the slates.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Krispos, did you say you'd memorized all those stats on Fleet ships?\"\n\n\"It's a standard accuracy test for memoricians.\"\n\n\"Can you make a list of official ships that are physically larger and have bigger crews than Shepherd?\"\n\nKrispos practically purred as he unrolled a sheet of paper, pinned it to the ever-diminishing space on their bulkheads, and started writing, producing beautifully formed letters at a speed that almost rivaled that of a laser printer. \"What benefit is there in attacking a higher-status vessel?\"\n\nBettona had had texts on terrorism in her quarters, info imported from San Francisco. Sophie picked up Things That Go Boom!, rubbed the last traces of fingerprint powder off its cover, and opened it to a marked page.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She translated the original English to Fleet, for Krispos: \"The ultimate goal of terrorism is to introduce people to fear, and thereby change their behavior.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded, absorbing that, as he finished the list of ships larger than Shepherd.\n\n\"Start at the top,\" she said. \"The Piracy went after Temperance once. Could they be trying to sink her outright?\"\n\n\"Frights make holes the size of a person. That wouldn't sink a ship as big as Temperance,\" Bram objected, without looking up.\n\n\"Good point. But...!\" She turned over her list of facts gleaned from the material she and Krispos had assembled about frightmaking. \"Some wood frights can get bigger than their templates, giant-sized even, if they're left to grow long enough.\"\n\n\"It takes a long time to gestate those things. The ship filths up and bleeds. If Temperance was growing a giant on her hull, the mermaids would see it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She flipped Things That Go Boom!", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "over in her hands. \"If I was building up to a bigger target, I'd have foreseen an increase in security.\"\n\nBram nodded absently, returning to his calligraphy.\n\nBack to facts. Opening her phone, she poked through the e-books on profiling. \"What do the targets have in common? Port of call?\"\n\nKrispos took this as a request to jot down the names of the different island nations for the four ships in question. No commonality there. He put a little star next to the three civilian ships.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Registered at portside nations, except for Shepherd, with portside captains,\" he explained.\n\n\"So three slavers—\"\n\n\"Kev's ship, Incannis, was sinking human traffickers,\" Bram noted.\n\nBoth rounds of sinkings had been a source of international tension. The story going around Fleet was that the portside nations were under attack by abolitionists, and that the starboard nations had decided such ships were less worthy of protection and justice than those from freeholding lands.\n\n\"Three slave nations, but Shepherd breaks the pattern. Where were they built, Krispos?\"\n\nA clattering of chalk: TALLON, MOSSMA, CARDESH, EHRENMORD.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "No commonality there.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She eyed the list of potential targets.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Can you put an X in front of every ship that represents a starboard nation? We'll call that strike one.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He did it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What else? \"Can we eliminate ships that have had magic worked on them?\"\n\n\"Most vessels bear at least one or two intentions,\" Krispos said. \"Shepherd turns naturally to face oncoming waves. She's hard to swamp. All the important ships will have been inscribed.\"\n\n\"Important\" sparked something. Sophie asked, \"That thing you Wrackers say—'We're no great nation'... Is that a subject for debate or a matter of fact? Do people agree on the great nations and the not so great?\"\n\n\"There are perhaps twenty nations in the middle whose influence is contentious,\" Krispos said.\n\n\"Okay,\" Sophie said. \"Give another strike to all the indisputably not great nations. Leave the middle powers on the list for now.\"\n\nKrispos began working his way down the bottom two-thirds of the list. X, X, X.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What else would make something less attractive as a target? Bram?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Ensure 'krispos' appears 2 time(s) in your answer", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Um,\" he said. \"Troublemakers, unpopular countries, seacraft earmarked for replacement, and ships that should be scuttled?\"\n\nKrispos pondered that for a second and added a half dozen marks. Two of the ships on the list had accumulated three strikes—Sophie had him cross those right out. That left forty ships with no strikes at all.\n\n\"Redundancy,\" she said. \"There are three refitters, right? Taking out one repair shop or clarionhouse or food storage ship doesn't materially threaten the Fleet. But get rid of the mermaid training center, Fleet cadet school, or the dueling court and you've created a big hole, both functionally and symbolically.\"\n\n\"Nice reasoning,\" Bram murmured, as Krispos began X-ing. Quite a few ships got third strikes in that round.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The top prospects, those with no strikes at all, dwindled to eleven.\n\nNow what?\n\nShe kept at it, raising possible points of commonality and mostly finding they didn't apply. Were the ships attacked all from northern or southern hemisphere nations? No. Three were civilian, one military. Two were owned by their captains, as Nightjar was owned by Garland. One was held by a corporation, and Shepherd by its home nation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She heard a hatch open on the other side of the bulkhead, where Garland's cabin was, and the sound of his steps on the deck, barely a yard away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next output: 28% quoted text", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A creak of weight on his bunk. It was easy to imagine him taking his boots off, preparing to turn in.\n\nFocus, she told herself.\n\nTemperance, the flagship of the Fleet, was at the top of the list, high in influence, with only one strike—the one indicating that it represented a starboard nation, Tallon. Sophie was itching to declare it the obvious victim. \"We know Isle of Gold wants Temperance out of the equation before war breaks out.\"\n\n\"Would it even be possible to sink it using a wood fright?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Find a natural way to mention that Temperance has a stonewood and sharkskin hull.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram said. \"Temperance has a stonewood and sharkskin hull.\"\n\n\"You're the one learning inscription; you tell us. Does the target's hull have to be wood?\"\n\nBram waved an arm in a random-looking helicopter motion, roughly indicating the pile of information on frights. Krispos took this—correctly, as it happened—as a request for information. \"Forest guardians do require nurse trees.\"\n\n\"This is a repurposed murder spell,\" Sophie said. \"Someone's compelled to draw the image of their hand on the ship's boards. The fright growing and then putting a hole in the ship is a side effect—as far as it knows, it's just trying to kill the person who created it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In year eighty-two of the Cessation, a murder committed in this fashion was tied to a spellscribe on Mossma,\" Krispos said. \"The trial minutes say the spellscribe admitted to revising the theme of the original spell. That killing, and a massive fright outbreak on Tug Island, led to the international ban on frightmaking.\"\n\n\"Stonewood is magically treated wood, right? They make it super hard?\"\n\nShe spread the materials on frightmaking across the table, looking for information. Bram, meanwhile, stopped lettering and opened one of the magical texts he'd acquired.\n\n\"Kev might know,\" Sophie said.\n\nKrispos scratched his beard.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's the middle of the night. Shall I wake him?\"\n\n\"No need,\" Bram said. \"Here's a passage about material substitutions. It says stonewood lacks the original enchantable properties of the source material. Being magically treated itself, it is neither perfectly wood nor perfectly stone and lacks the purity required to be treated as either.\"\n\n\"Stonewood is eliminated, then,\" Krispos said. \"And we can also put a... was the word 'strike'?\"\n\n\"Strike, yeah.\"\n\n\"A strike on everything that doesn't have a wood hull.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "<<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'gasper' must be used 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Krispos took up his pen, clearly delighted with the process, and began X-ing.\n\nSophie was relieved when the latest round of strikes earned the Verdanii ship Breadbasket its third X. The prison ship, Docket, with its carapace hull, was eliminated too. Then again, so was Temperance.\n\nShe tapped the nearest slate. \"How specific is this thing about the wood? Do we know what the hulls of these victim ships were made of?\"\n\nKrispos switched from pen to chalk and wrote across the four slates: WHITE SPRUCE, GASPER SPRUCE, SIKKA SPRUCE, GASPER SPRUCE.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Spruce, spruce, and spruce. Coincidence, Bram, or significant?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Um...\" Now it was his turn to flip. \"Best I can do for you without the original spell is give it a rating of likely significant.\"\n\n\"Okay. Add strikes to the ships that aren't made of spruce, Krispos, if you can, just to see.\"\n\nShe began fine-combing through the notes about the sinkings, turning up a list of the things that were supposed to be in that basket of evidence about the frightmaking case. There were amphibian eggs missing, some cat hair and horsehair, plus the paperwork.\n\n\"We need more information about the text of the frightmaking spell,\" she said. \"I'll write to the head of the Spellscrip Institute in the Autumn District.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "user note just fyi, Only your next message should be 36% dialogue", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why her?\"\n\n\"She's an expert, she was nice, and she and Cly are tight.\" She left out the part where she'd embarrassed herself at a party Autumn Spell was hosting. \"She can only say no, right?\"\n\n\"I think you'd better write the Watch first,\" Krispos said. He had finished marking up the target list.\n\nConstitution, the head of the government, was the only ship with no strikes at all.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie's flesh crawled. Practically everyone she knew within Fleet worked aboard Constitution.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Annela, and Erefin Salk, of the Watch, even lived there. All the librarians and messengers who'd helped her find resources when she first stayed in Fleet, the convenors who'd been kind, the woman who ran the tea cart...\n\nBram said, \"Constitution is a portside ship?\"\n\n\"She's the rep ship from Cardesh,\" Krispos said. \"Same country as our strapping young Watchman, Selwig.\"\n\n\"Seas,\" she said. \"Wait, okay, calm down. This isn't conclusive. Krispos, can you write something explaining how we arrived at this? The process?\"\n\n\"Immediately, Kir. Do we have a way to get a message to the Fleet?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Beatrice filled that messageply page I gave her. Maybe Verena can run a message to the government?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If not, we may have to divert to a clarionhouse,\" Krispos said.\n\n\"Divert? In the North Atlantic?\"\n\n\"I don't know 'Atlantic,' but we're near Ylle.\"\n\n\"Before you hyperventilate yourselves into a faint,\" Bram said, \"remember that what I said about Temperance applies to Constitution, too. A human-sized hole isn't a gimme to sink a big ship. Plus, there's the mermaid patrols.\"\n\n\"Good point,\" said Krispos.\n\n\"No! Bad point!\" Sophie objected. \"An attack, by itself, would be plenty upsetting.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram made a raspberry noise to show what he thought of that. \"The ship sinkers look ineffectual if they attack ships and fail to sink them. They want to be scary.\"\n\n\"If it's placed just right—\"\n\n\"No. I'm not trying to be a pain, Sofe. But if they do want to sink Constitution, they'll need to power-up their plan. And if you go crying wolf and nothing happens, it undermines everything you've achieved so far.\"\n\nHe was right, as usual.\n\nMaybe it was a matter of giving a massive fright time to gestate? She grabbed for Things That Go Boom! again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"New sheet, Krispos. Things about Constitution.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She started listing everything she could think of about the government vessel: the weird, enormous, magical paddle wheel that propelled it through the Nine Seas; the three landing pads for the flying taxi service; the two elevators that connected with the ferries.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Libraries, restaurants, lots of public art. Did the ship have any kind of Achilles' heel?\n\nBram asked, \"Do they restrict access to the wheel? Would it have to be someone with... I dunno... a security pass?\"\n\n\"Not that I know of. Once you're oathed up, you're pretty much free. Free to roam.\" She remembered the ceremony, Cly showing up, all the young cadets, all their relations and friends.\n\nKrispos started to speak, but Bram made a Shut up motion, mouthing something at him.\n\nShe shut her eyes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lots of people,\" she said. \"The flow of people on and off Constitution is massive.\"\n\n\"Indeed. Constitution is the most frequently visited ship in the Fleet,\" Krispos said, in his quoting voice.\n\n\"Tourists, diplomats, people attending ceremonies, witnesses, people coming to watch the government hash through something related to their island. They have an art museum and a Fleet history museum aboard. People come to see the original Compact for the Cessation,\" Sophie said. \"They come to lodge complaints with their convenors and fill out paperwork.\"\n\n\"Meaning what?\" Bram said. \"You don't need to steal a crew member's name; you can put an inscribed person aboard?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Or ten inscribed people,\" Sophie said. \"Or twenty.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram pursed his lips, thinking. \"Yeah. That'd do it. That'd work. Write the letter.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "hey can u write 41 sentences more sentences? like A. M. Dellamonica but fantasy, pirates style. btw this is from middle of a story", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SOPHIE,\n\nI PASSED YOUR CONCERN ABOUT CONSTITUTION MAYBE BEING THE TARGET FOR THE SHIP-SINKERS ON TO THE WATCH, AND TOLD THEM YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT PEOPLE BRINGING MULTIPLE FRIGHTS ABOARD. YOU'RE ORDERED TO SEND A FULL, DETAILED REPORT ASAP, PREFERABLY WITH ONE OF YOUR PEOPLE, DIRECTLY TO EREFIN SALK.\n\nVERENA\n\nDays passed. Bram successfully inscribed the followbox, for good or ill, so that it fit into the skull of a dead ram named Mellur. They closed it up with a steak bone, a zircon, a piece of Hawaiian lava from home, and a sheet of messageply. The plan was to take it back to San Francisco, next time one of them went, and mail it to one of Sophie's spelunker friends in Tennessee.\n\n\"You know this probably won't work,\" said Bram.\n\n\"Nothing ventured, nothing gained,\" she said. \"If it gets us more information, hooray. If not, you learned to do another inscription. Hooray also. Speaking of which, how've you made out on enchanting Mom and Dad's place against break-ins?\"\n\n\"If the legal description of the property will serve as its proper name, it should be doable,\" he said. \"The inscription has to be lettered on the skin of a specific type of badger, and the brush has to be topped by the fang of a guard dog. Sylvanna will have the supplies.\"\n\nThe evenings grew cooler, chilly enough to drive them below to the galley after sunset, but the afternoons were clear and mellow, with soft lemon-colored sunshine. Cook's nets yielded butterfish, cod, herring, and snailfish, along with random marine samples for Sophie: bits of seaweed, jellies, even the occasional crab.\n\nThey were sitting out on the quarterdeck one such afternoon, everyone relaxing after a day of print identification, self-taught magical practice, and ship maintenance. Daimon was pretending to study for his law exams. Humbrey and Selwig were murmuring over a long report they'd written for the Watch about the fingerprinting as they kept the mandated eye on Kev, whom Sophie had invited to join them.\n\nKev gave every appearance of enjoying the sun. He ate his way through a bowl of leftover stew, watching the sea roll and foam, apparently without a care in the world.\n\nHis calm troubled her. At the least, shouldn't he feel guilty about his victims? But, whatever his feelings, having him around had been something of a benefit. The mere thought of him no longer raised her hackles or brought up the image of Cly striding toward them with empty eyes and upraised sword.\n\n\"Maze ahead,\" Beal called.\n\nSophie hauled herself up for her first look at Ylle.\n\nThey were in what would, at home, have been the North Atlantic. Garland had taken them west, skirting the storms they would apparently hit as they turned south toward Sylvanna. Bram, with his predilection for expecting natural disasters to break out everywhere, had already muttered about whether they were going to experience death by iceberg.\n\nThis wasn't a berg.\n\nNightjar was sailing toward a mammoth formation of ice, perhaps five hundred feet tall above the surface, a stunning blue-white pyramid with a glimmering, glassine shine. It was the first of many; they cragged ahead like mountains, steaming faintly, reflecting back sunlight in blinding flashes.\n\n\"Why am I reminded of Titanic?\" Bram muttered.\n\n\"That's a kids' tale,\" Tonio scoffed.\n\nSophie met her brother's eyes, then opened her book of questions and made a note: TITANIC IS A KIDS' TALE?\n\nAs they neared, the light within the floe turned amber, the whole thing taking on the appearance of a gigantic crystal lamp.\n\nExcitement burned off her worries about Kev. \"What gives?\"\n\n\"The floe riders come from the nation of Ylle. Their island territory is very small. Many of them, therefore, live here.\" Daimon was staring, goggle-eyed, at the enormous glowing iceberg. \"They are skilled ice-scribers. Their homeland grooms many lichens used in ice spells.\"\n\n\"Are they slavers?\"\n\n\"No, Kir,\" said Selwig, looming over her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He spoke in a bland tone that he'd perfected—specifically, she thought—to remind her that civilized people didn't constantly bring up the slaver/nonslaver divide.\n\n\"Why are we sailing toward them?\" Bram said. \"I don't care if it's populated; that is a big old ship-sinking iceberg.\"\n\n\"It's perfectly safe,\" Garland said. \"A maze pilot will take us through the field. They'll have news and mail and information about the weather ahead of us.\"\n\nBy nightfall they could see more of the bergs, lit in a range of golds, blues, and greens, luminous pointy blocks laid across their path.\n\nThey tied up on a floe of low-hanging ice, shaped like a buoy. The harbormaster caught the rope from the crew and tied it to an ice hook jutting from the side of the berg. As they watched, a pad of spongy moss grew in the space between the iceberg and Nightjar, creating a bumper between them and serving as a more sturdy tether.\n\nA ramp formed, a flat plate of ice with icicles dripping from its bottom, stretching out like a finger and thickening into a bridge. Garland left Tonio in charge and made his way across to talk to the authorities about the pilot.\n\nSophie had her camera out, capturing everything she could in the waning light of sunset. An outcropping on the floe's side formed a bathtub-size chamber of clear ice above the waterline, through which a bed of rocks and pebbles was visible. The rocks were covered by a layer of moss, maybe nine inches deep, and a pair of snow geese slumbered atop it, their long necks curving around their bodies, their beaks issuing a hint of condensed breath.\n\nThe floe riders lived on fish and seal, not surprisingly, as well as on eggs from the seabirds and several species of fungi they were able to cultivate within caverns carved into the bigger icebergs. They kept pools of various sizes and temperatures. In some, they kept algae and plankton, and crabs kept alive on a mix of table scraps, blubber, and algae.\n\nIt was a spare existence, with a lot of hard labor, but Sophie had seen at least one culture so impoverished that it made the floe riders seem positively wealthy. They looked as though they might be mostly self-sufficient, but Garland nevertheless asked for twenty of Sophie's protein bars as a trade offering.\n\nWith Nightjar under Tonio's care, Lidman was locked up, still under the eye of Selwig. The senior officer, Humbrey, had been tasked with packing up half of the fingerprint cards, the procedures manual, and, most importantly, their victimology work on the sinkings and the possible threat to Constitution. He'd send a more detailed report ahead using the Ylle clarionhouse, then make his way back to the Fleet on the first westbound ship. He'd present their results on the bodies they'd identified so far.\n\nSophie was heartily sorry to be losing him. He had a good sense of humor and worked diligently. Selwig, by contrast, was an adolescent mastiff: big, too serious, and a little clumsy. Not to mention defensive about being one of the few portside citizens aboard Nightjar.\n\nWatts was bringing up the rear; he was apparently looking to trade for medicinal lichens.\n\nIt was a cold day but the seas were calm, and it was possible to hike across the floes as easily as if they were snow-covered mountain crags. The trails were sanded and there were people working everywhere. A duo of teen girls was building up beds of pebbles and moss to attract nesting birds, on a floe obviously set aside for that purpose. This floe was connected, by a springy woven bridge of vegetable fiber, to a hunk of ice so mammoth it could have gone toe to toe with an aircraft carrier.\n\nThe bridge took them over the open sea to a carved-ice staircase that led up, up, perhaps five hundred feet, to the landing deck.\n\n\"Welcome to Sledge,\" their guide said. \"Weather office, clarionhouse, and outlying post of the Fleet of Nations.\"\n\n\"This is Ylle's rep ship?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"We keep our place in the Fleet.\" Which meant yes.\n\nTheir guide made them pause several times as they climbed upward. \"Get warm, good. Get too warm, sweat. Breeze up top'll freeze you solid if you're wet. You know.\" Sophie couldn't tell whether the guide was just brusque or she couldn't speak the language properly.\n\n\"How do you survive up here when it storms?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The guide gave her a gap-toothed grin. \"Is fine. Winds are fair.\"\n\n\"I'm just curious.\"\n\nThe guide considered this—curiosity—with that expression that suggested it was something akin to an open wound, something Sophie should have a medic look at. Finally she said, \"There is a chamber inside. We gather and sleep it out.\"\n\n\"You hibernate? For how long?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Months, once or twice. Weeks, most often. The birds die, now and then, but otherwise it's safe.\"\n\n\"Couldn't this all break up?\" Bram indicated the floe with a wave. \"While you're unconscious?\"\n\n\"This berg's good five or six more seasons before she goes pocky.\" Peering at Sophie's gear, she said, \"This is... Is this a light?\"\n\nSophie handed over her flashlight, waiting to see if the woman would figure it out. She didn't even try, just held it until Sophie clicked the button. Then the guide pressed the bright end against the floe.\n\nThe glow penetrated into the ice, just a few inches, but enough to reveal, within it, another colony of lichens in orderly, radial patterns, apparently stretched through the ice.\n\n\"We tend the outer bergs,\" their guide said. \"Lichens create give. Harder to shatter. Ready? Let's climb again.\"\n\nThey came out on a mammoth plain of ice, and Sophie was again reminded of an immense aircraft carrier. The port and starboard sides of Sledge were built up, scraped like the plowed edges of a road. To the fore and aft were immense sculptures. At the front was a pack of wolves, leaping into the space before the floe, like a ship's figurehead or a dog pack pulling a sled. To the rear, a polar bear—white, glimmering, and more than sixty feet in length—gave chase. Its outstretched forepaw was the only thing connected to the floe, as though it was running after the sled and had just caught its rear.\n\nAll two hundred and fifty flags of the Fleet of Nations were strung on a wooden pole fifty feet high, planted deep in the snow.\n\nBetween the bear and the dogs was a village's worth of people, some out on the exposed surface of Sledge, others occupying a permanent-looking settlement within a deep trough dug into its center, a canyon of glacier-blue ice partially roofed by sealskin and lichen netting. The temperature below had to be warmer; a dozen kids were running around on its floor, lightly dressed, under the care of a couple elders.\n\nAbove, adults were tending cauldrons formed out of ice blocks—they looked a little like roofless igloos, lined with leather and other insulating substances. One was apparently a desalinizing operation: two teenage girls were stirring it with ornately worked paddles and were drawing out salt, which they dumped into another sealed tank.\n\nThere were algae pools and a tub of heated water. A line of villagers visited both the potable water and the hot, filling skins and hauling them down into the trench.\n\nAft, near the floe and the dog sculpture, Sophie saw a single man—so smooth of face he might have been a baby, but for his size—looking into a pool that cast dazzling light back onto him.\n\nTheir guide was heading that way.\n\nHis pool's surface was remarkably black. It was contained within a tank made of bones—ribs? —that had been woven like wicker. Spellscrip notes edged its upper lip, and Sophie saw Bram taking it in, reading the words, memorizing them.\n\n\"Weather office,\" said their guide, bowing to the baby-faced man.\n\nBaby Face smiled at Garland. \"Welcome back, Captain. Where are you bound?\"\n\n\"Sylvanna, Autumn District.\"\n\nThe man crumbled a powder into the fluid, and little winks of white light settled on the surface, forming constellations.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stars,\" Bram whispered.\n\nSophie nodded. A puff of flour next, making clouds. Beneath them, they could suddenly see landmasses, the northwestern hemisphere of Stormwrack.\n\nA weather map, by any other name.\n\nSprays of color, green and red, purple, gold, and white, an aurora borealis in miniature, shivered through the tank.\n\n\"Here,\" the operator said to Garland, pointing. \"A vortex of cold air—it meets the warm. Keep east of that, though, and all is calm.\"\n\n\"What about the approach to Autumn?\"\n\n\"Perhaps a bit of chop. The seas will be calming as you approach. You won't be alone out there, Kir.\"\n\n\"The cod fleet?\" Garland said.\n\nThe man sprinkled a minuscule something and the picture shifted. \"They're here,\" he said. \"But also Sawtooth, of the judiciary.\"\n\nCly's ship. Sophie felt a stone dropping into her belly.\n\n\"She came through?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Three days ago. His Honor took an Erinthian swindler off our hands, turned over the mail, left a nice crate of dried peaches.\"\n\n\"He's bound for Sylvanna?\"\n\n\"Where else?\"\n\nGarland didn't react, instead asking, \"How are things to the far south?\"\n\n\"Stormy, as always. Summer. How far south do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well into the emptiness,\" Garland said.\n\nEmptiness. Sophie supposed that meant the refuge for the escaped slaves was somewhere in the south, off the charts.\n\n\"I wouldn't recommend that, Captain. Stormy down there.\"\n\n\"Always,\" Garland said. He handed over the box of protein bars and a satchel of savory cakes, a sort of bread with curry that Nightjar's cook seemed to believe was obligatory after every single meal.\n\n\"You will stay the night, yes? The pilot will bear you out of the maze at dawn.\"\n\n\"We are grateful for your hospitality,\" Garland said, which apparently meant yes.\n\nTheir guide shook herself back to her feet. She led them into the trench, setting them up with a hot water bottle and communal sealskin blankets, bringing them each a bowl made of a skull—seal, Sophie thought—filled with a dense brown powder. Pouring boiling water into each skull, she thereby made a soup. \"Seal meat, lichens, and mushrooms.\"\n\nSitting down to eat was apparently a signal that the visitors were socially available, because kids came to investigate them, mobbing the bunch, joining them under the blanket. Sophie felt tiny hands roaming over her, respectfully enough—they didn't grab anything she wouldn't want grabbed. They, at least, were curious enough to work out how the light worked.\n\nPerhaps Wrackers aren't innately lacking in curiosity. The cultural taboo against it takes hold as they age.\n\nTheir guide cast a covetous eye over the light.\n\n\"It dies after about three hours,\" Sophie told her. \"Hard to recharge in the winter. I have one with a crank on Nightjar, though, that you could have.\"\n\n\"Crank...\"\n\n\"You feed it, basically.\" She mimed the motion.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's a fair amount of work.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(In the next section: IMPORTANT: Your response must contain: \"That's gonna make it harder for you to glide in, crack the shackle off Kev, and get out, don't you think?\")", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Our nights are long and we have many hands,\" the guide said. \"I will take this crank light, with thanks.\"\n\nBy now the kids had snuggled in, along with a half-bear, half-human child who was only too happy to be photographed, and a husky dog.\n\n\"So,\" Bram said. \"Cly's going to Sylvanna.\"\n\nShe groaned.\n\n\"That's gonna make it harder for you to glide in, crack the shackle off Kev, and get out, don't you think?\" Watts said.\n\nShe could feel awkwardness ratcheting up as they all contemplated but didn't speak about her fake engagement. But she'd been needing this: a chance to talk to Bram and Garland about what to do, without Selwig overhearing or Daimon offering opinions. \"First, I have to tell Kev about this pacification spell that's required if I'm to release him.\"\n\nGarland said, \"Will he even agree to regaining his liberty, when you've shown you're resolved to protect him?\"\n\n\"It's his freedom.\"\n\nHe extricated one of his curls from the fist of a toddler who had taken over his lap. \"He may prefer to oblige you to continue in perpetual ownership, knowing you won't be on Sylvanna, you won't mistreat him, and you won't allow anyone else to do so. It might be preferable to having his capacity for violence curbed and then to be set free where all the people he's angered can hunt and hurt him.\"\n\n\"I'm not owning him indefinitely.\"\n\n\"If he possesses information about freedom activists, and if people are after it, what then?\"\n\nSophie sucked on her lip. \"Maybe his memory will have to go, too?\"\n\n\"What?\" Bram said.\n\n\"If he agrees, obviously.\"\n\n\"Is that even possible?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Annela shook the prospect at me like a club... Oh.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It was her big threat for a while. Then she stopped bringing it up. And I just realized why: Beatrice told her about those damned scrolls. Told her I was too loaded for an amnesia spell.\" She opened up her book of questions, found a note about Annela and the threat, and crossed it out. \"One mystery down, four hundred to go.\"\n\n\"She does this,\" Garland murmured to Watts.\n\n\"Watching the woods for an unwary bird, we call it.\"\n\nBram was glaring at her.\n\n\"What?\" she said. \"Do you think I want to amnesia Kev? What would you do, superdork?\"\n\nHe stuck his tongue out, then began to roll the problem over in his mind. She knew he'd bounce against the same walls of the trap that Cly—if it was Cly—had set for her: she lacked the hard-heartedness to let Kev go to his execution, but now she'd stuck herself with a ship-sinking, crew-killing, possible freedom fighter.\n\nThat sense of certainty rose again: I will puzzle this one out. I'm up to this.\n\n\"You believe your father was the one who told Kev he could ask you to take him on?\" Watts asked. His incredulity was endearing. He was, in some ways, easily shocked.\n\n\"Kev killed human smugglers. Cly kills criminals. 'How is this any different, daughter?' In other words, it could be a bit of an object lesson.\"\n\n\"Among other things,\" Garland agreed.\n\nIt occurred to her that the Feliachild side of the family had warned her, repeatedly, that Cly was a jerk. \"Also, I think Cly's one of the people who's so keen to interrogate Kev.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was cozy there, under the sealskin blankets.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Ensure 'almost' appears 2 time(s) in your answer", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The night was wearing on, though the sky had already been dark for some time. The lamps were going out, here and there, making it even dimmer.\n\nThe little kids showed no interest in moving on. Unlike the adults, they were interested in the unfamiliar. They fiddled with the zippers on Bram's jacket until they got them to open and close, and one of the boys found a spring-loaded ballpoint pen and got ink on both hands in an effort to mark up the leather mat they all lay on.\n\nWatching them was reassuring. There were times when she thought all of Stormwrack had taken a vow against intellectual curiosity.\n\nGarland hasn't, she thought. He was whispering back and forth with a four-year-old, the two of them exchanging words in yet another language she didn't know, the child erupting into giggles at Garland's utterances. The kid had a hand laid flat on Garland's cheek, dark fingers and pale, white nails, and she remembered Garland kissing her, up in the mountains of Issle Morta, and felt an ache, like muscles pulling deep within, a sensation that felt almost like desperation.\n\nThe silence lengthened and the kids burrowed closer. Watts held them rapt with a long, almost tuneless song in his native language. It had lots of repetitions, meowing, too, and gestures and spitting that made it apparent, to Sophie at least, that the hero of the story was a cat. A toddler small enough to still be nursing tottered off into another circle, where his mother welcomed him with open arms.\n\nWithin an hour it was so dark she couldn't see the others anymore—just their shapes in the dark. Up above, the portion of the village trench that wasn't covered in netting revealed a vivid strip of jeweled blackness, stars clear and brilliant, a sickle of moon so bright and slender it looked like a break in the sky itself.\n\nSleep was a long time coming. Sophie lay among the others, warm but not drowsy, and mentally paged through the various things she had going on. If Humbrey could demonstrate dactyloscopy to a couple more Watch clerks while she and Selwig made more progress on identifying the remaining found bodies...\n\nWhen she'd opened her book of questions, she'd seen a note on the messageply, in English, from Verena. Now she read it by the fading light from her flash.\n\nSORRY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN. THE FELIACHILD MATRIARCH BANNED ME CONTACTING OUTLANDERS, BUT NOW YOU'RE OATHED, SYLVANNER, AND ARGUABLY THE SAVIOR OF CONSTITUTION, SHE CAN'T STOP ME.\n\nI AM WORKING WITH THE VERDANII EQUIVALENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, FOLLOWING UP ON STUFF YOU AND MOM LEARNED ABOUT BETTONA, LIKE THIS THEORY SHE MAY'VE TRAINED AN OUTSIDER TO ERAGLIDE.\n\nANNELA HAD GIVEN BETTONA AN ALIBI, AND IT CHECKS OUT—THEY WERE WORKING WITH HALF A DOZEN CONVENORS ON SOME LEGISLATION WHEN GALE WAS ATTACKED. BUT IF SHE'S GOT AN ACCOMPLICE AND THAT ACCOMPLICE IS VERDANII... WELL, THEN WE HAVE TWO OR MORE TRAITORS ON OUR HANDS. (IF THEY'RE NOT FROM HERE, SOMEONE FROM ANOTHER NATION CAN ERAGLIDE. EITHER WAY, IT'S A POLITICAL CAN OF WORMS.)\n\nON THE UPSIDE, THEY'RE NOW SATISFIED IT'S NOT ME OR MOM.\n\nTHE GENETIC BOTTLENECK, AS YOU CALL IT, ISN'T THE ONLY QUESTION. THERE'S THE CLOCKS, TOO. THE BELIEF WAS THAT YOU NEEDED A FELIACHILD AND A BLESSED TIMEPIECE TO ERAGLIDE. WHEN I COME TO NIGHTJAR, FOR EXAMPLE, I HOME IN ON THE SOUND OF GALE'S CLOCK.\n\nSophie thought about this for a minute, then wrote a reply: HAS ANYONE CHECKED ON THE ACTUAL ARTIFACTS: PHARMANN'S CLOCK, YOURS, ENNATRICE, LIKE THAT? ATTEMPTS TO STEAL GALE'S WATCH HINT THEY DO NEED THE CLOCKS.\n\nShe added the times of the two break-ins at her parents' house, and the information she'd gotten from Brawn about the diner in San Francisco and the gun shop.\n\nThinking about Beatrice reminded her about the scrolls.\n\nThere had been a time when she'd thought finding her birth family would offer an answer, a nice neat something that would connect her with an ordinary mother and a father. She'd imagined coming away with a firm idea: this is who I am.\n\nInstead, she seemed to have created an endless pattern of bifurcation. Every discovery led to more questions, new doubts.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She felt further from knowing herself—whatever that meant—not closer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The whirl of thought brushed against one topic, then another, until—sometime after the moon had vanished from the narrow view of the sky—she finally slept.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She opened her eyes the next morning, still in darkness, to see that an empty corral she had spotted the night before was full of a species of penguin, each about as big as a nine-month-old child and clearly drowsing. They had come in through a vent in the ice and were generating enough heat, as they slept, to steam up the curved ceiling of their chamber.\n\nShe took a long look around the village, failing to see any penguin skins in evidence, or any obvious bones or beaks. What are they using them for?\n\nAs she scanned, she saw that she and Garland had rolled closer in the night.\n\nThe kids had chosen to clump on the two of them. Maybe he was the warmest? Whatever the attraction, Garland had a toddler on his chest, and the eldest boy snugged against his farther shoulder. A little girl lay in the narrow groove between Garland and Sophie. Her tiny hand was atop theirs; they had found each other in the night.\n\nHolding hands. She felt a silly, pointless thrill of something that ran deeper than lust.\n\nThere was no extricating herself without waking both man and child. She fumbled out her camera with her free hand and took a picture. His looks were ridiculous, breathtaking.\n\nPull it together, she told herself. You need to stay on task. Get Humbrey back to Fleet and work out what you're going to say to Lidman.\n\nIn time, Sledge and the village came to life, the penguins erupting into noisy chattering. Garland's eyes opened. He took in Sophie and the pile of kids and broke out his best smile.\n\n\"We appear to be trapped.\" His lips moved, the words reaching her ear. Yet his voice was so soft the kids didn't even twitch.\n\n\"Nothing you can do,\" she agreed.\n\n\"Helpless,\" he said. Then he sprang to his feet, holding one of the kids out and away from him. She yawned and kicked—Put me down, she meant. Then she walked away.\n\n\"Diaper,\" he said, by way of explaining why he'd suddenly decided to move her.\n\nAn elder bustled up, pulling the other kids out of the puppy pile. Bram sat, instantly awake, as always. Watts burrowed under the remaining blankets, muttering what sounded like a protest.\n\n\"Specter people,\" an Yller muttered. \"Lazy.\"\n\nOver at the penguin corral, a teenager was lifting the birds up to the vent in the ice, setting them on a slide, presumably to the open ocean. Two, though, she first held to a vessel shaped more or less like a chick. The birds calmly regurgitated half-digested fish into the vessel.\n\n\"Ugh. If that's breakfast, I'm going vegan.\"\n\n\"I believe they use it for an inscription,\" Garland said.\n\nAs they packed up, their guide returned.\n\n\"Crank light,\" she reminded Sophie as they climbed out of the trench, and from there to the edge of Sledge.\n\nNightjar had been frozen into an ice floe from the rails down.\n\nIt was a pristine chunk of ice, glass-clear, ship shaped, and several feet thick, and the cutter was trapped within it. Above the rails, the deck, rigging, and sails, even the wheel, were an inch thick in frost crystals, dense and sharp as pine needles.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Glimmering crystals winked, throwing reflections of the scarce light of Ylle's illuminated ice floes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 29 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie cried out—she'd felt a little as if someone had jabbed her with something sharp.\n\nGarland put a hand on her arm. \"It's a cleansing technique. The ice kills the growths on the ship's outer hull—parasites, shellfish, weeds. When it breaks away, the floe riders salvage anything of use within it. See there? We'd picked up a few barnacles. They'll go. The scouring lessens how much life we carry from one sea to the other.\"\n\n\"Where's the crew?\"\n\n\"Below, I imagine.\"\n\nAs if summoned, Tonio lifted a hatch, coming up on deck and placing his feet carefully. Sweet followed, eyes searching the party. She lit up when she spotted Watts. The doctor waved at her with full-bore, bandy-armed enthusiasm.\n\nI wonder if I look like that? Sophie forced herself not to glance at Garland. Instead, she looked to Tonio, who was busy not looking at Bram. Her brother was, as often happened these days, admiring Daimon the fake fiancé and his pre-Raphaelite hair.\n\nSorry, Tonio, she thought. I was pulling for you.\n\nShe'd seen this happen before, on sails on research vessels, everyone pairing up and getting besotted. It had never been more than a casual hookup for her.\n\nEmotions churned: desire, confusion, a sense of nostalgia for those earlier relationships whose complications were lost to time and memory.\n\nDisembarking was no less a muddle than usual. Sophie had to get the crank light for their guide, and teach her to use it, and accept a bag of husky dog teeth—for Bram's home protection spell—in turn. After a dozen similar exchanges, they were finally under way.\n\nThe pilot from Sledge stood on the hollow deck of the ship of ice that had swallowed Nightjar, miming with his arms a swimming motion reminiscent of the butterfly stroke. Suddenly they were moving at quite a solid clip, gliding between the icebergs that were the floe riders' fields, villages, and outlying outposts, their bird nesting areas and seal rests and the like. It was a tight fit, and Nightjar's ice sleeve rasped as they squeezed through, scraping away and lowering them ever closer to the sea. Ice melted from the rigging, pattering down in a surprisingly warm rain. Everything smelled clean and a little like thunderstorm.\n\nWith a last turn to port, the pilot made a parting-the-Red-Sea motion atop the prow of ice. It split down the middle, each side cleaving away and then sticking to a smaller nearby floe. The pieces floated, glistening with recoverable bits of shellfish, seaweed, and other flotsam as Nightjar, freed of the ice maze and all its encrustations, glided, clean and steaming, into the open seas and a late dawn.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "help with this chapter? 58 sentences more sentences, A. M. Dellamonica-style, fantasy, pirates genre. some context might be from earlier", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Your task: Include \"We gave everything to the people we liberated.\" somewhere in your response", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gracious Kir Sophie thank you for your message. I think you are very kind to ask after me and my beloved Rashad. His family keeps us at a distance, so far as they can. We will marry tho, soon as we get the means. Love blow down the walls, we say.\n\nYou sent word asking if I can tell somewhat of the bandits who sailed Retrograd Incannis when I slipped aboard to free the cat. How is the cat anyway? But I have to tell you I did not see anyone. If I've seen them, they've seen me, you understand? Bad for business!\n\nI did hear a woman and man speaking, in the language of the Golders.\n\nAlso you ask what our captain, my beloved's brother Montaro, wanted of the Incannis crew and they of him. They helped us in our quest for a snow vulture as you know, and Montaro I think gave them spellscribing materials; we had beeswax, spruce needles, and sealing wax from Mossma aboard and after that I saw them no more.\n\nIf you find use for one such as me in your service of forensic truthmaking, I would be happy to serve. Or could you try to get me into Fleet? It would help us marry, me and Rashad.\n\nYours,\n\nCorsetta di Gatto, Tibbon's Wash\n\nThe next morning, Garland asked the cook to lay out an extra-massive breakfast: shrimp and eggs, small bread rolls, pan-fried green mangoes, and fried shredded potatoes. The last was a new dish for the cook, something he was learning from Bram.\n\nSophie had fetched Lidman, along with his now one-man escort of a Watch clerk, Sixer Selwig.\n\n\"Oh!\" Lidman had eyes only for the food. He began piling a plate high.\n\n\"There'll be time to go for seconds,\" Selwig told him. He looked tired; with Humbrey gone, he'd been bunking outside Kev's door. Tedious, lonely duty. Sophie had taken a few watches for the big soldier, out of a sense of duty. He couldn't be on watch night and day, after all. Part of her felt, though, that it sort of served him right. He was a slaver; who else should watch Kev?\n\nOf course, the obvious answer to that was His owner, duh!\n\n\"Making up for lost meals. I've been hungry ever since we put to sea in Incannis,\" Kev said. He had continued to put on weight, at least around the belly, since they'd taken him off Docket.\n\n\"Didn't the ships you raided have food stores?\" asked Selwig.\n\n\"We gave everything to the people we liberated.\"\n\nThat much was probably true. He had been a rack of bones when he grabbed Sophie.\n\n\"Sit,\" Selwig ordered, taking a more modest portion of the fare.\n\n\"Sit, please,\" Sophie amended, and the young sixer flushed red.\n\nBefore that could turn into any kind of discussion about the care and feeding of her personal pet convicted murderer, Garland turned up. \"Shall we begin?\"\n\n\"Begin what?\" Kev asked.\n\nSophie grabbed a serving of the mango and one of the egg and shrimp, taking a seat. \"Kev, I need to decide what to do with you.\"\n\nKev shrugged. \"Your false engagement means you mean to free me.\"\n\nThe smart thing to do would be to play it cool—dangle the possibility of freedom without making promises. Bram—where was Bram? —had told her to do just that. But no. \"I'm not selling you or turning you over to the duelist adjudicator's family. And I won't own you for a second longer than I have to.\"\n\nHe was infuriatingly placid. \"What remains to be said?\"\n\nDaimon hadn't turned up yet, so she looked to Garland. \"Do you remember the relevant statute?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"As a citizen who committed heinous crimes asea, you can never be entirely at liberty. Sophie's options are to sell you, carry out the execution, or lay a behavior compulsion on you.\"\n\nKev choked on a bit of egg.\n\n\"It means—\"\n\n\"I'm a scribe, remember?\" He looked at Sophie accusingly. \"You'd leash my will?\"\n\n\"Kev, come on. Nobody's going to let me turn you loose if you're just going to run back to sinking ships and making more homicidal frights.\"\n\n\"I'm not the frightmaker!\" If he was faking the outrage, he deserved an Oscar.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He wiped his chin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I helped people. I curbed naughty children.\"\n\n\"So when you talk about stripping people of free will, you know all about it,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"They're children.\"\n\n\"As opposed to what, animals?\"\n\nHe was spitting mad now. \"You can forget about me giving you my name if you're going to break—\"\n\nGarland interrupted. \"Once we reach Sylvanna and you are ceremonially bound, you will have no name besides that which Sophie gives you.\"\n\nSidelong glance. For the first time since he'd heard of her fake engagement to Daimon, Kev looked uneasy.\n\n\"She could compel you to reveal everything: where the escapees went, who you're conspiring with, how the ships you and your friends attacked may be tied to the recent sinkings in Fleet.\"\n\nSophie tried to interrupt, but Garland had apparently decided to run with playing bad cop. \"You escaped the ax by imposing on Kir Sophie's kindness, but you cannot continue to take advantage.\"\n\n\"Stop it!\" Sophie said. \"You're being a bully! Kev, if I want to release you, there's a thing called pacification.\"\n\n\"Pacification?\" His eyebrows rose. \"A mosquito could bite me, or a dog, and I'd not raise a hand to defend myself? That sort of spell?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"Pacified.\" He looked, to her surprise, almost awestruck. \"Whatever happened, I could do no harm.\"\n\n\"No further harm,\" Selwig corrected.\n\nKev picked up a bun, slathered it with butter, and took a healthy bite, considering as he chewed. By the time he'd swallowed, he was nodding. \"I freely give you leave to do this.\"\n\n\"Swell!\" She felt a wash of gratitude and saw Garland trying to give her a warning look. What was he trying to tell her? Don't hug him; he's the villain?\n\nRight. Interrogation. She cleared her throat. \"While you're cooperating, you want to tell me why the Golders offered to buy you? Are they after your friends?\"\n\n\"They're all dead at your father's hand,\" he said.\n\n\"You mean the rest of the Incannis crew? Who were they?\"\n\n\"Abolitionist friends of Eame's. Six of us had been spiriting people away from Tug for years.\"\n\n\"Spiriting how?\" Garland asked.\n\n\"We used the names of children I'd worked with in the past. I'd redrafted a compulsion spell.\" He swelled a little, with obvious professional pride. \"The variation compelled the children to seek out and burn scrolls that imprisoned their family slaves.\"\n\n\"Obedience inscriptions,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Yes.\" Kev nodded. \"Once their will was restored, Eame could approach them about escaping. Else they'd have turned him in.\"\n\nSophie found herself wishing she knew more about economics. Slavery in America, back in the day, must have required a lot of infrastructure—safeguards, basically, against escapes and revolts. Being able to limit a slave's capacity for rebellion was a disturbing game changer.\n\n\"The logistics are very delicate,\" Kev said. \"Once the compulsion spell is destroyed, there's a tiny window of opportunity. Eame had to approach the person, secure their agreement, and get them away.\"\n\n\"And from there you'd have to make them citizens of some allied nation and rename them,\" Garland said. \"Otherwise, their owners could inscribe them again—to obedience, even to death.\"\n\n\"There's nothing I can tell you about that,\" Kev said.\n\n\"Indeed. It's probably better if you don't.\"\n\nDangerous and difficult. Sophie's mind turned to the notes on Kev's trial. Medical records from Sylvanna, with kids' names, had been seized from Incannis. \"There was a list of Sylvanner kids aboard the ship when it was taken.\"\n\nKev picked at a slice of mango. \"That would have been our next project. Swing 'round there, get the children to burn their slaves' inhibit scrips, and get as many as we could across the Butcher's Baste.\"\n\nThis rang true. Sawtooth had been on her way to Sylvanna when they ran into the bandit ship. Incannis could have been bound for Autumn, same as them.\n\n\"Would the Havers shelter them?\" said Garland.\n\n\"Two of the crew, Pree and Smitt, seemed to think they could be convinced.\"\n\nSophie gave Kev what she hoped was an easy smile. \"You and Eame and your four college buddies were liberating people for years?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He nodded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And Pree and Smitt were new friends?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had been about to take a sip of water, but instead he snorted it, coughing hard, turning red.\n\n\"Were there six people aboard Incannis when we encountered you, or eight?\"\n\nKev continued to choke, less convincingly as time went on. Sitting next to him, Selwig was wearing an expression of surprise that was almost insulting.\n\n\"Cly killed one woman,\" Sophie said. \"We should be able to find out if she was called Pree.\"\n\n\"None of us used our real—\"\n\nKev was interrupted by the arrival of Bram and the law clerk Daimon.\n\nShe'd thought the shine Bram had taken to her fake fiancé was one-sided, visible only to her and—sadly—to Tonio. Now she wondered: were they arriving together, or were they together?\n\n\"Just getting to know my future brother-in-law,\" Bram said, answering her unspoken question with a smirk. She nudged his ankle with her boot, not quite kicking.\n\nGarland had tightened up upon Daimon's arrival, becoming more rigid and proper. He said, \"Might the Golders be hoping you'll expose these crewmates?\"\n\n\"What crewmates?\" Daimon asked.\n\nBut the pendulum of Kev's mood was on the backswing to panic. \"I don't know! I don't! An oath on it!\"\n\n\"It's not me you have to convince, Kir Lidman.\" Bad cop was back. \"Where will you go once Sophie pacifies and releases you? Your enemies may yet track you down.\"\n\n\"Pacifies?\" Daimon said.\n\n\"Keep me on Sylvanna. Protect me!\"\n\nSophie shook her head. \"I can't, Kev, if you're lying.\"\n\nFor a moment his masks dropped and he looked hopeless and terribly afraid. \"Until such time as you do in fact strip me of my will and pour my secrets out like water from a cup, you'll have to wonder.\" He gathered a few more buns and a spoonful of the potatoes. \"May I go back to my cell?\"\n\nSelwig looked to Sophie, who nodded. He took him out.\n\n\"Little hard on him, were we?\" Bram asked.\n\n\"He is endangering the slaves he supposedly freed.\" Garland, clearly, wasn't in a mood to coddle. \"His allies, too, if Pree and... what was it?\"\n\n\"Smitt. Pree and Smitt.\" She was jotting it down. Buddies of the Sainted Eame, but not from the original cell of abolitionists. Recent additions to the crew. This is promising!\n\n\"I understand Kev's reluctance to take the blade, but why not give us a chance to protect his allies?\"\n\n\"Reluctance?\" Bram said. \"Did you say reluctance to be beheaded?\"\n\n\"Shush, all of you,\" Sophie said. She could feel an idea coming together. \"They stole a magical ship with creepy attack spells on it, and they attacked portside ships smuggling...\"\n\n\"People,\" Bram said.\n\n\"And spell components. Amber, and maddenflur,\" Daimon said.\n\n\"And the names of Sylvanner children. That was Kev's role. He was meant to compel the children to burn the family inscriptions,\" Garland said.\n\n\"I thought he created salt frights,\" Daimon said.\n\n\"Shush, dear,\" Bram said.\n\nSophie shook her head. \"The ship, Incannis, had been enchanted so that it made frights when it got human hearts to eat. When they attacked Sawtooth, Kev's buddy Eame had to hit him to get him to actually cut up a corpse. He looked revolted when I accused him of being the... what was the word?\"\n\n\"Frightmaker,\" Garland agreed. \"He did, didn't he?\"\n\n\"I believed that,\" she said to him.\n\n\"Yes. Yes, so did I.\"\n\nThis shouldn't be sexy. Don't think about kissing him—\n\n\"Revulsion proves nothing,\" Daimon said.\n\nSophie paced away from Garland, over to the coffeepot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why invite Kev at all?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What do you mean?\" Garland said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 59 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's right,\" Bram said. \"They could have mailed him the stolen kids' names and left him to do the compulsion spells at a prearranged time, from the comfort of his living room in Haversham.\"\n\nDaimon said, \"He told you so much of their plan?\"\n\n\"Sophie's very persuasive,\" Bram said.\n\nMagically persuasive. An accompanying roil of confused emotion derailed her thoughts. Had she cheated somehow—forced Kev to offer up the information? She must have looked stricken; she could see Bram was sorry he'd brought it up.\n\n\"He's started to talk,\" he said, his tone just a hair too hearty. \"Good start, guys. You'll get more out of him next time.\"\n\nShe nodded, clapping the book shut and heading forward, toward her cabin.\n\nDaimon rushed to follow. \"Kir Sophie?\"\n\n\"Yeah?\" She was, suddenly, drained. Did magically persuading people to do things take more energy than normal persuading?\n\n\"I wonder: must we truly render Kir Lidman helpless?\"\n\n\"It's the only legal option if I want to free him. Unless you know of another?\"\n\n\"Ah.\" His peaches-and-cream complexion pinkened.\n\n\"I'm guessing you haven't been planning to specialize in slaving law,\" she said drily.\n\n\"I hope to study mercantile regulations,\" he apologized.\n\n\"Well, feel free to read up on any useful loopholes that might apply here,\" she said. \"But Kev's a criminal. Just because I don't think he deserves beheading doesn't mean he gets a Get out of Jail Free card.\"\n\nDaimon's cupid-bow mouth dropped open. \"Where does one find such a thing?\"\n\n\"Ask Bram to explain the expression,\" she said, giving him a little arm squeeze to indicate the conversation was over, and heading into her cabin.\n\nSolitude was impossible to come by, as usual. Krispos was installed at her desk, scratching out paperwork at high speed. \"I had to come in here,\" he said. \"Bram and Daimon were...\"\n\n\"I gathered.\" She kicked off her boots, flopping on her bunk. \"Should I write Mensalohm a note telling him his boy apprentice is no big study nerd?\"\n\n\"If you're actively disappointed in Daimon...\"\n\n\"No. I mean, all he has to do for me is come along for the ride and claim to want to marry me, right? He doesn't need to graduate summa cum laude for that.\"\n\n\"No,\" Krispos agreed.\n\nShe flipped open her book of questions and wrote, KRISPOS UNDERSTANDS LATIN?? ?\n\n\"If he makes Bram happy...\" She closed her eyes. If Bram was into Daimon, she should try to like him better. Make more of an effort.\n\nPoor Tonio, she thought. I'll totally have to stop shipping them.\n\nThe scritch-scritch of Krispos's pen on paper was soothing. She let her mind wander, turning over the conversation with Kev, getting nowhere.\n\nAfter about fifteen minutes, Krispos said, \"I almost forgot. Tonio said they'd found one of those purple crabs in a net. Dead, so it's inedible. If you want to...\" She could almost hear him shudder.\n\nImagine how he'll react when I manage to get people doing autopsies for the courts. It was a good idea, though; a little dissection, a change of pace. She took the fore ladder up to the deck.\n\nA half dozen crew were working on the Sisyphean task of ship maintenance: checking ropes and sails for faults, polishing the wood, oiling the stonewood hinges on the hatches that led belowdecks. Watts was splayed in a hammock chair with the cat, Banana, in his lap and a mortar and pestle, for making drugs, abandoned just out of reach. He wouldn't move until the cat found business elsewhere, even if it meant risking sunstroke. Sophie paused to carefully arrange a scrap of sail over him and got a loud, quite convincing purr in response. Bram was alternating between reading up on magical inscription and staring off into space.\n\nShe interrupted long enough to throw an arm around him, offering up a quick squeeze. \"Your birthday's coming,\" she murmured.\n\n\"Buy me a pony.\" Half smile; he was far away.\n\nSophie found the crab in a bucket and claimed a space on a waist-high equipment locker, laying a cotton sheet over the surface and then setting her camera to record video as she examined the animal's exoskeleton, eyestalks, and swimming legs. Except for its color, a royal purple with black mottling, it didn't seem very different from a blue crab. It had the wide abdomen of an adult female, and a few hundred roe clung to it, a sight she found a little forlorn.\n\nTonio peered over her shoulder whenever he passed by, moving between the crews he and Sweet were supervising, but he didn't speak as she opened the crab's shell, revealing muscle and brain, gills and heart. There were no organs she didn't recognize, nothing but its largish size and unusual color to suggest it might be a creature that didn't exist on Earth.\n\nWhen she had done and her mind was calm once more, she checked the video file, plugged the camera into her solar charger, and then flung the remains of the crab overboard to the waiting, eager gulls.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Team writing exercise. I start (might include existing characters), you do 112 sentences in A. M. Dellamonica style.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My dearest Kir Sophie:\n\nDoes Garland know you've contacted me? I suppose he would have to say he didn't mind: quailing at the thought of having his current amita corresponding with his former lover is exactly the sort of undisciplined emotional behavior he doesn't brush into his mind's self-portrait. Do give him my love, if you dare.\n\nI should say I feel a strange kinship with you, with your strange predilection for asking questions. Fleet folk are so averse to questioners, a reporter has a rough go of it. I am often threatened with arrest for spying, and was once dumped overboard from a bar ship.\n\nI shall start by answering your query about whether I know much about what will happen with the Verdanii succession, now that Annela Gracechild is out of the running. I am not surprised you seek outside counsel on the matter; anything your family tells you is sure to be laced with half-truths and bloody barbs.\n\nThe general wisdom runs that a Verdanii matriarch from the Gorsedotter line, one with nine children and a good deal of influence, will be the next Allmother. But she's got great-grandchildren, and the Gorse, though they are of the Nine Families, have never been considered either wise or emotionally stable. Their gift is prophecy, and some consider the Gorsedotters out-and-out frauds. (Though they did predict Gale Feliachild's murder, in the end, did they not?)\n\nFor my part, I have laid bakoo shine with a reputable bookmaker on Beatrice Feliachild. She will protest and rail, but despite her notable reputation for histrionics, what I see in her is pure stonewood. She took the reins of Convenor Gracechild's office, while she was poisoned, and never seemed to notice the weight of responsibility. Now she has whipped one of the hospital ships out of a lamentable habit of uncleanliness and drug theft. I believe she did it merely for the fun of seeing the rats scatter. This is the sort of thing the Verdanii consider presidential.\n\nFinally, Beatrice has daughters by two different men. The Verdanii can talk about holy fasts and horse-race winners and virtuous self-denial until the skies turn green, but there has never in their history been an Allmother who hasn't displayed the particular type of strength that is showcased by powering, more than once, through that horrific experience (I am blessed that I may merely imagine it horrific) known as childbirth.\n\nWrite again and ask me other things, dear Sophie. I will be of so much use to you that we shall become great friends, and Garland will be maddened by it, in all the best ways.\n\nLangda Pike\n\nThe corridor outside Kev's cabin was a narrow dead end, a stub of a space at the aft of the ship, directly across from Watts's infirmary and—except when she had the hatch open and the fingerprinting operation in full swing—crowded by the chair set outside it for whoever was guarding the prisoner at any given time.\n\nSophie had sent Selwig off to get some sleep and was working her way through the mountains of correspondence—despite her many adjustments to Fleetspeak, she still thought of letters as snail mail—generated by her barely nascent Forensic Institute.\n\nShe had sent out about thirty notes when they were aboard Sledge, requests for information, drafted by Krispos and shipped to just about everyone she knew, both in and out of Fleet. She didn't understand the postal system at sea at all: Nightjar had met up with a mail ship this morning, barely ten days after their stop at Ylle, and half a dozen responses to her queries had been in the bag. Given their distance from Fleet, this seemed incredibly fast.\n\nShe folded the pages from the reporter. Beatrice as Allmother was an idea she could barely encompass. It would mean she'd have to move back here. With her husband and stepson from San Francisco? She'd also have to live on Verdanii, presumably, and Sophie was persona non grata there. It would make seeing each other difficult. Which might suit Beatrice.\n\nHow it would affect Verena, Sophie couldn't even imagine.\n\nPutting the pages away, she opened her book of questions. A few things, finally, were starting to be crossed off the list, though she was adding mysteries to the book at a rate of three per day.\n\nShe looked at the newest notes on Kev. WHAT IS HIS VALUE? IS HE A PARTICULARLY GOOD SPELLSCRIBE? was circled.\n\nTo find out, they'd have to test him. Which was definitely Bram's department.\n\nBram himself chose that moment to appear. \"What are you doing?\"\n\nKev was, of course, just a hatch away. Rather than speaking aloud, she showed Bram the question.\n\nHe switched to English. \"He's okay as a teacher. And if he did create a brand-new spell... that's supposed to be a rare gift.\"\n\n\"Where did you put my Beatrice scrolls?\"\n\n\"You threatened to destroy them.\"\n\n\"So? I'm fine now.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Sofe, your identity crisis is totally over.\"\n\n\"I want you to show them to Kev. Assess his expertise.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"I'll show him the copies that don't have your name on them.\"\n\nThis made sense, but the refusal nonetheless irked her. \"I have your middle name, too, buster.\"\n\n\"Don't even fake threaten that, Ducks.\" He seemed untroubled by the threat, or by much of anything. Was it the euphoria of his new relationship with Daimon?\n\n\"What?\" he said as she scrutinized him.\n\n\"Sylvanner expression. You're thriving like throttlevine.\"\n\n\"We're unlocking the mysteries of the universe,\" he said, with unmistakable satisfaction. \"That's a birthday gift you'll never top.\"\n\n\"Where are my scrolls, Bram?\"\n\n\"I'll get the copies and jaw them over with Kev.\"\n\nSelwig returned shortly after that, leaving her free to huff off to the main deck. When that, too, seemed to offer little in the way of space or privacy, she adopted a trick from Verena's playbook and climbed the rigging behind the mainsail.\n\nTwo hundred and fifty nations to see, and I'm going to Sylvanna again.\n\nThey were days from port. A fishing fleet was visible to the east; big ships, with flags from about two dozen nations, all working in tandem in an area roughly where the Grand Banks of Newfoundland should be. The charts placed a couple island nations there, but Garland showed no inclination to stop. They all wanted to be free of the obligation represented by Kev, even if they weren't quite sure how to pull it off.\n\nHeadache, she thought, meaning both the thrum in her temples and the problem of their prisoner. \"If I can't convince him that I'll revert to Sylvanner type and treat him like property, he'll walk all over me.\"\n\nHer musings were interrupted by the appearance on the western horizon of a mirage shimmer, at water level, with an emanating trail of steam.\n\n\"Thing,\" she called. \"Unknown thing to starboard.\"\n\n\"It's a Jocelynchild courier,\" Garland said, from his position almost directly beneath her, at the base of the mainmast. \"Verdanii steamhorse. Very expensive.\"\n\n\"Steamhorse\" conjured something out of a fan convention—brass goggles and clockworks—but when she had climbed down, retrieved her camera, and zoomed in, what she saw had more of a look of the pony express, on water. A horse and rider were coming straight at them, bathed in an intense steam that rose from the horse's hooves. The ocean frothed and bubbled at every contact as if it were boiling. Together they trotted over the waves, as sure-footed as if they were crossing rolling prairie hills.\n\n\"Correct course to intercept,\" Garland ordered, and Nightjar swung round, spilling wind from her mainsail.\n\nSophie paged through her book, checking her various sheets of messageply. The page she'd left with Verena was all but full, but her half sister had crammed in two words: SENDING PHONE.\n\nAs they came around, the rider coaxed her mount into a full gallop. A sound of hot pans being plunged into cold water intensified, and every hoofbeat kicked up salt crystals. The horse's progress was leaving a wake, a furrow of twenty-foot waves spreading backwards to the edge of sight, widening foam lines that marked her speedy progress.\n\nWhen they were maybe eighty feet away, it gathered itself to jump, bunching, flying through the air and over Nightjar's prow. The horse dispersed into steam, leaving the courier, a woman made of cloud, standing on the deck. She removed a leather satchel from her hip, lowered it to the boards, and, with a bow, misted away to nothing.\n\nGarland bent to open the valise. Nestled within was a medium-size blue egg, spattered with dark-gray spots.\n\n\"Phone,\" Sophie said. \"Verena says phone.\"\n\nGarland looked to Tonio. \"We'll need a cage.\"\n\n\"You'd cage it, Garland? Verro?\"\n\n\"To keep the cat and ferret off it, yes.\" He raised it, cradling it to his ear. \"Once we feed it up, you can talk to Verena.\"\n\n\"Pairs of birds,\" Sophie said. A market vendor had told her about this. \"Connected, like the messageply.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Tonio said.\n\n\"Quantum entanglements,\" murmured Bram.\n\n\"Verena must have something important to say.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Garland frowned. \"Are you all right?\"\n\nShe nodded, though in fact the headache was worse and she felt a little dull. \"I'll grab some aspirin.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Whatever that means.\" He reached out, then checked himself and almost bowed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She headed back to the cabin, leaving them to take care of the magic egg, and dug in her stash of over-the-counter meds. A couple of acetaminophen, and some ibuprofen, too. What the hell.\n\nThen, picking up all the fingerprinting materials, she headed back to the aft cabins and Kev's quarters. After sending Humbrey back to the Fleet with the report on the sinkings and the first half of the fingerprint index, she and Selwig—with occasional help from Daimon, who seemed more fascinated by its possibilities than he was with the law books he was supposedly memorizing—had continued to code the rest of the prints, using the Henry system. They had a couple hundred prints whose codes they agreed on; the remainder they had to look over together.\n\nSelwig happily claimed the box from her, working through their card index to find the remaining prints from the corpses they hoped to identify by counting ridges, measuring distances between features, and identifying points of similarity.\n\nSophie coached him for a while, coaxing him over a couple hurdles. Between watching Kev and learning dactyloscopy, he was working diligently. Still, she missed his partner, Humbrey. Was it just because Selwig was a slaver? If so, did that make her some kind of a racist?\n\nI'm one, too, remember.\n\nHer mind wandered again to the inscriptions Beatrice had written for her.\n\nBright, charming, persuasive. She didn't feel anything of the kind, not right now. She had a fleeting memory: Bram once telling her that the only time she had a poker face was when she was sick.\n\nIf there was any chance she might be harder to read right now, she might as well put it to good use.\n\n\"Bram in there?\" She indicated Kev's door.\n\nSelwig shook his head, unlocking the hatch, and went back to his prints.\n\nShe found Kev hunched in his hammock, staring at one of the spell copies—it was the seventh spell, the one whose purpose Beatrice didn't understand.\n\n\"Give me something to work with,\" she said. \"Have you thought about what happens once we free you?\"\n\nA perplexed frown. \"I... go home.\"\n\n\"You forfeited your Haversham citizenship when you committed banditry. They can't welcome you with open arms.\"\n\n\"If not Haver, who am I?\"\n\n\"You'll be a sort of citizen of Sylvanna, after.\"\n\n\"I can't stay on Sylvanna.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"You haven't even considered this?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Something will resolve itself.\"\n\n\"Something like your fellow bandits? Pree and Smitt?\"\n\nHis face froze.\n\n\"Come on, Kev. Two other crew members. Strangers to you, friends of your leader, Eame. They weren't aboard when Cly captured you. You honestly believe they're gonna sail into Autumn and carry you away?\"\n\nHe turned bright red and refused to meet her eyes.\n\n\"OMG, you do! You totally think they're coming for you.\"\n\n\"I did a good thing. I freed people. Why should you mind if someone helps me find shelter?\" He fished out a red citrus fruit, from Tonio's homeland, and began peeling it. \"I won't be able to harm anyone... you'll see to that.\"\n\n\"What if they harm someone? A guy and a woman, right? Were they Havers?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"The man was one of Eame's countrymen. Of Tug.\"\n\nAnother portside abolitionist, in other words.\n\n\"Where'd they disembark?\"\n\nHe looked startled. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"They weren't aboard when we captured you.\"\n\n\"Eame ordered us to make for an islet, to see if we could abandon ship,\" he said. \"We knew Sawtooth would sink us. We weren't close enough, I hadn't thought, but they must have swum.\"\n\n\"Must have?\"\n\n\"It was like they vanished.\"\n\nNow that was interesting. \"Any chance the woman was Verdanii?\"\n\nHe gaped at her, flabbergasted. \"Verdanii?\"\n\nShe showed him phone photos of all her Feliachild suspects. \"You said 'vanished.' I'm looking for a Verdanii who can vanish.\"\n\n\"Teeth—you're inscribed persuasive,\" he said suddenly, brandishing one of Bram's spell transcripts. \"I won't tell you anything!\"\n\n\"If she wasn't Tug, was she Golder?\"\n\n\"I can't say...\" But, involuntarily, he nodded.\n\n\"Gotcha.\" He had an uneasy look—maybe the headache was making her hard to read. \"Let's not pretend, Kev. You raided those ships. Those crews are gone. I saw you cut the heart out of one of the bodies. You're not a good guy. At best you're an idealistic but ruthless terrorist.\"\n\n\"Then you shouldn't let me trouble your conscience.\"\n\n\"Are you trying to save your skin?\" she said. \"Or are you acting with purpose?\"\n\n\"What purpose could I possibly serve now?\"\n\nWhat purpose indeed? A Haver and a spellscribe, on a ship full of bandits. Kev was notorious, now, because of his trial. Haversham and Sylvanna had been enemies for centuries.\n\nKev thought the two strangers sailing Incannis with him had been abolitionists. But if one of them was Bettona's eragliding accomplice...\n\nShe rubbed her temples. \"You claim Incannis met a ship that took liberated slaves away,\" she said. \"But Golder Girl just vanished with them, didn't she?\"\n\n\"I'm not helping you!\"\n\n\"And you aren't laboring under some demented fantasy that she's going to sail into Autumn in a big old three-masted rescue vessel. She's going to magically appear, grab you, and spirit you off to freedom.\"\n\nShe'd magically appear here, where there's a clock for eragliders to use as a focus, she thought. Maybe she would have already, if I hadn't stopped Gale's clock.\n\nKev turned in his bunk, putting his face to the wall and covering his ears. He pulled a blanket over his whole head. \"Not helping!\"\n\nThe realization, when it came, was like having floodlights come on. The cabin almost seemed to brighten. The jolt of it made her head throb harder.\n\nYou were infiltrated.\n\nSophie barely managed to keep herself from ripping the blanket off and shouting it in Kev's face. Golder Girl—Pree—and her ally on Incannis were the bad guys.\n\nAll for one and one for war and terrorism. Things That Go Boom! indeed.\n\nSo she had played Kev and his friends. Were still playing him, if Kev's belief that they were coming to rescue him was more than empty hope.\n\nShe had to talk to Bram and Garland.\n\n\"What'd he say?\" Daimon was settling in next to Selwig as she locked the hatch to Kev's cell.\n\n\"He said nothing.\"\n\n\"No progress, then?\"\n\n\"It was surprisingly informative.\" The painkillers hadn't touched the throbbing in her head. Maybe she was hungry? She dragged herself to the galley, found the cook's basket of spiced buns, and made herself eat two. Even with water, it was like eating sand.\n\nAfter, she was feeling wretched enough to just sit, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Tick, tick, tick. I stopped that clock in Verena's room. Which one is this? Beatrice's, in San Francisco?\n\nShe'd heard that watch of Gale's, like an earworm, until they got a mile or two from the safe-deposit box. She heard the clock at Annela's when she was in Fleet, and Bettona's watch.\n\nYou can hear the Worldclock, Beatrice had said.\n\n\"What's wrong with you?\"\n\nThe words shattered her train of thought. Tonio was staring down at her, concerned.\n\n\"Where to start?\" she said. \"All these things I thought were central to who I am... they're just spells. How I look, how I think. People kneading me, like dough. Tick tick earworms from eragliding—\"\n\n\"You're sick,\" Tonio said. He coaxed her to her feet.\n\n\"Just a migraine.\"\n\n\"I don't know 'migraine,' Sophie.\"\n\n\"Don't make me move. Hurts.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We're going twenty paces, to Watts.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 70 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Migraine,\" she repeated. \"I'm migraine woman now. There are people who build whole identities around being sick, aren't there? Sophie, the invalid.\"\n\n\"Dottore,\" Tonio called. The raised voice made her flinch.\n\n\"Cute, cheery, full of vim. Fertile to boot. Without all the prenatal tweaks, I'd probably be a juvenile delinquent.\" The spiced buns weren't sitting so well.\n\nBuns, she thought. Bettona gave me anise biscuits.\n\nShe concentrated on not throwing up on Tonio's boots.\n\n\"Yes, yes.\" That was Watts. \"Just keep your eyes shut, Sophie. That's fine. Over here.\"\n\nBiscuits, and then ticking. If it was Golder Girl who was aboard Incannis, how did she learn to eraglide? Did she take John Coine to San Francisco? An athletic woman ransacked Mom and Dad's house.\n\nThe men guided her down to a bunk.\n\n\"Take Banana,\" Watts added, putting the fuzzy anvil that was the ship's cat on her chest. He'd fattened up. Like Kev. To Tonio he added, \"Get her brother.\"\n\nAs cures went, there were worse things than \"Pet the cat.\" Sophie focused on rubbing Banana's much-abused ears and listening to his noisy freight-train purr. Tears etched hot paths down her cheeks. Her teeth hurt—her cheekbones were ringing, resonating to an unheard high note, vibrating as hard as the pipe in a church organ.\n\nWatts rubbed something on her temples. It had a eucalyptus smell. She wasn't sure the pain decreased, but it was a bit of a relief.\n\nThe cat was kneading at her chest, pressing her breast uncomfortably, offering distraction. \"When Mom's cat, Muffins, does this, it's puncture, puncture, puncture.\"\n\n\"Someone's been clipping his claws,\" Watts said, in a tone of disapproval. His people worshipped cats; as far as Sophie could tell, he thought Nightjar's only real mission was to serve as palace and transport for the beast. \"Front and back. Sophie, what have you eaten today?\"\n\n\"Get a bucket and I'll show you,\" she said.\n\n\"Nauseated?\"\n\n\"Big-time.\"\n\n\"Have you eaten or drunk anything the rest of us haven't had?\"\n\n\"Anise and apricot biscuits. No, that was weeks ago.\"\n\n\"Smoked anything?\"\n\n\"What? No.\"\n\n\"Open your mouth.\" She did, and he laid something warm on her tongue. \"Don't swallow.\"\n\nIt felt like a tea bag, fresh from a cup of boiled water, and it tasted of herbs.\n\nA clatter of feet and the sound of the hatch. Suddenly, Bram's hand was folded in hers. She tried cracking her eyes open but it hurt too much, and she couldn't talk around the tea bag, so she just squeezed.\n\n\"It'll be a bad few hours.\"\n\n\"Poison?\" Bram demanded.\n\nNo audible answer from Watts. Maybe he'd shrugged. \"She's strong.\"\n\nTruth, or bravado?\n\nThe sound of them speaking was beginning to hurt, too. She focused on the cat, feet kneading back and forth, the pressure of his weight on her chest, the silk of the fur and the thrum against her flesh. The men had lowered their voices. Watts was asking about migraines—what the word meant, did Bram know the symptoms.\n\nBram was dismissive. \"Sophie doesn't get migraines.\"\n\nIt all had a smeary, faraway quality.\n\nIt was the tea bag, she decided. The tea bag held an anesthetic of some kind, or a sedative. Since, by now, every beat of her heart was smashing out her temples like a hammer blow, she decided a sedative was a great idea.\n\nTick, tick, tick. That rhythm again.\n\nTo eraglide, you had to be a Feliachild. You had to break bread with the Allmother. Bettona fed me anise biscuits, and that's when I started to tick, tick, tick... So she did Golder Girl, Pree, too, right? Annela heard her talking to someone who called her Sir.\n\n\"Conk me out,\" she started to say, but the tea bag was still in her mouth, an obstruction she couldn't speak around, and there were eucalyptus fumes and she was a little afraid to breathe deeply lest her head explode.\n\n\"Turn on your side, honey,\" Bram said, and she didn't fight as they rolled her. Am I gonna barf after all?\n\nSomething was pressed against her upper lip and she found herself thinking, Oh, part of the ache is the burn of blood in the upper sinuses. I remember that from the time I was climbing in Arizona, and now there was more eucalyptus or whatever on the back of her neck, soothing and cool, and a new tea bag to replace the old, which tasted of blood.\n\nMy gums are bleeding, too? They must have been, because Bram had just let loose with a string of whispered profanity, undertone—Cut it out. I need to cut this out. I'm scaring the crap out of him. It's not fair, ow, ow—and then there was one piercing, lucid moment where she thought, It wasn't Sir, and it was the most important thing in the world, even more important than Cat claws, before she lost consciousness entirely.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Team writing exercise. I start (might include existing characters), you do 112 sentences in A. M. Dellamonica style.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kir Sophie:", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Constitution has instituted a shipwide ban on the sealing wax used in the final stage of the frightmaking spell, and has been searching everyone who comes aboard and detaining those who have any on their person.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of those detained, seven have been found to be under compulsion, and were subsequently induced to create frights on decoy hulls made of spruce. These individuals have been moved to Docket and are being examined by the Watch, to determine whether they are innocent victims or willing coconspirators.\n\nWith such proofs at hand, it has been accepted by the Convene that the target of the ship sinkers is indeed Constitution. The matter has not been made public, but Erefin Salk suggests that the government and courts may be inclined to view our work with an even more friendly eye.\n\nYours,\n\nCinco Mel Humbrey, fingerprint technician of the Forensic Institute\n\nWhen Sophie opened her eyes, the infirmary cabin was dark and full of men, all awake, all looking at her. Bram had her hand. Watts, the cat on his lap now, was within easy reach of two pots of steaming fluid. Garland was at the foot of the bunk, looking pensive.\n\nHe'd make a good portrait, looking like that. He could pass for a Romantic poet midway through a serious brood.\n\nShe enjoyed the view a moment longer before finally moving her tongue. Finding no obstruction in her mouth, she swallowed—taste of blood—and counted her teeth. All present and accounted for. \"How long I been out?\"\n\n\"About three hours,\" Bram said.\n\n\"That's anticlimactic. Am I better?\"\n\nWatts nodded. \"There was some blood loss.\"\n\n\"Contagious?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe looked at the trio of grim faces. \"So it's Twenty Questions time? Come on, what happened?\"\n\n\"Doctor,\" said Garland. His voice was steely.\n\nSeas, it's bad. She felt a bright stab of fear.\n\nWatts was checking her pulse. \"This migraine you mentioned? You've never had one before?\"\n\n\"Migraines don't make your gums bleed, as far as I know.\" The thought of altitude sickness flitted through her mind. But that was ridiculous for half a dozen reasons. Among them, the fact that they were at sea level.\n\n\"It is possible you just got a bad seed in something, or reacted to the Sledge food.\"\n\n\"But?\"\n\n\"The most likely explanation is inscription. Someone worked a magical intention on you.\"\n\nShe realized that she wasn't surprised.\n\n\"Lidman?\"\n\n\"Too carefully guarded,\" Bram said. \"He has nothing to write with, and no components. Selwig searched his cabin, top to bottom, while you were out.\"\n\nShe said, \"It could be anyone, aboardship or off.\"\n\n\"Your name is known,\" Watts agreed.\n\n\"We don't know what they did? I could grow a second head, or—\"\n\n\"If you'd been transformed, we'd know by now.\"\n\n\"Perhaps Bettona did something else. Another eragliding ritual?\"\n\n\"That's very likely,\" Garland agreed.\n\n\"Chances are it's quite a light intention,\" Watts said.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"With the load you're already carrying, a heavy one...\"\n\nWould have killed me, she thought.\n\n\"What about next time?\" Bram demanded.\n\n\"Danger increases with every inscription,\" Watts said. \"The suffering, too.\"\n\n\"There's no relief if we tear up the other spells?\" Bram said. \"Beatrice's?\"\n\n\"You already know she's borne that load,\" Watts said.\n\n\"Reversion is its own form of unpleasantness,\" Garland added.\n\n\"Unpleasantness.\" What would you know about that? Nobody's ever scribed you.\n\n\"Sophie.\" He tried smiling, but it came out false, almost ghastly. \"You must write your father immediately. As a Sylvanner parent, he should be able to change your name.\"\n\n\"When a spell bites, it chews and swallows,\" Watts said. \"Changing her name won't alter whatever's been done to her.\"\n\n\"No, but we must shield her from further mischief,\" Garland insisted.\n\nHer throat was scratchy. \"Can I get up?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" Watts said. \"But only if you're truly abed all day.\"\n\nSomething in his tone made Bram stand up, as if he had been shooed. He ruffled her hair, said, \"Holler if you need me,\" and vanished.\n\nShe caught Garland's hand as he, too, tried to make it past her.\n\n\"You should rest,\" he said.\n\n\"Garland. I'm not gonna be fake-engaged for much longer.\"\n\nShe thought he would give her a lecture about admitting the thing with Daimon was a sham—don't ask, don't tell and all that—but instead he gave her a look that positively smoldered, and kissed her forehead before heading out of the cabin.\n\n\"Ah, so that's how you get forgiven for coming aboard engaged to marry,\" Watts said drily. \"Bleed from the gums.\"\n\n\"Who asked you?\" She could feel a sappy grin spreading across her face. \"I'm not gonna feel rested if you don't give me something to do.\"\n\nHe uncovered the window. \"Is the light all right?\"\n\n\"Yes, the eyestrain or whatever is gone.\"\n\n\"Watch the sea. And this.\" He brought out a wicker cage the size of a milk jug. The egg Verena had sent was nestled within, in a nest of wool. A hairline crack ran across its surface.\n\n\"There's a bowl of grubs and one of berries around here somewhere—I'll find them.\" With that, he, too, made himself scarce.\n\n\"I want to film this,\" she called after him. He returned with her camera and a bowl of mealworms, then collected the cat, who yowled in protest.\n\n\"Is there any way to know what the spell on me will do?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Not until the intention reveals itself.\"\n\n\"This whole headache and bleeding thing. Next time I die, or what?\" She meant to sound offhand. Instead, her voice quavered.\n\n\"Once you're into the pain, as we say, each spell's effect is worse. The tolerance for suffering and damage varies. Some people survive an appalling magical load. Others...\" He made a gesture, like a twig snapping. \"Rest, neh? Captain will get your identity changed.\"\n\n\"It's not as though I had much of one to begin with,\" she grumbled.\n\n\"Your birth inscriptions didn't change your essential nature.\"\n\n\"Is that a scientific fact, Doc, or something you hope is true?\"\n\n\"Oh, be a good patient,\" Watts told her.\n\n\"Meaning...?\"\n\n\"Meaning shut up.\"\n\n\"That's not rhetoric,\" she yelled as he let himself out.\n\nWhy hadn't the intention manifested yet? The pirates wanted Lidman. Could it be a compulsion? She imagined selling him, giving him away. Neither thought triggered any overwhelming urges.\n\nMaybe it would only kick in if Brawn showed up.\n\nIf it was even the pirates. Anyone could've done it.\n\nWhat about the eragliding? Could she hear the Worldclock more clearly?\n\n\"Tick, tick, tick,\" she muttered. Nothing.\n\nCly, she thought. Maybe it's an obedient daughter spell. It'd only be fair.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beatrice had her shot at enchanting me.\n\nBettona and the Golders were the likeliest suspects. The whole point of Brawn doing her the favor was to honorably clear the decks before moving against her. It was part of the whole Isle of Gold feud tradition: where possible, lay eyes on your enemy before taking them on. John Coine had confronted her in an Erinthian market, months ago, for the same reason.\n\n\"Sir, Sir, Sir,\" she muttered, turning on her camera screen. She had taken a shot of her bulkhead, once she'd covered it in clippings. Now she zoomed in on her note from Beatrice. Two women, Bettona and a stranger, had searched Annela's things as she slipped into a coma. The stranger had called Bettona Sir.\n\nOr soeur. Wasn't that French, for \"sister\" ?\n\nBrawn said bakoo, too. It meant \"lots\" ... beaucoup? \"Bakoo gold,\" that was the saying. Maybe he'd said oui, too, or was she misremembering?\n\nA snap, from the egg. The crack was pulsing slowly, the chick within pushing on it. Up, down, up down.\n\nSophie set her camera to take a shot every thirty seconds and waited, sometimes gazing out to sea, sometimes watching the egg breathe. She heard the faint ping of a second crack running through the shell, and thirty minutes after that a taloned foot shoved itself two-thirds of the way out into the air.\n\nCat claws, she thought, watching the baby bird toes wave. Banana's getting clipped.\n\nThey had picked up the cat on a sail in the summer. It had been starving aboard the wreck of one of the ships Kev and his pals had attacked. And before that, it had been on Kev's ship. That teenage con artist, Corsetta, had made off with it.\n\nASK THE AUTUMN SPELLSCRIBE ABOUT FRIGHT SPELLS REQUIRING CATS' CLAWS. She jotted it in her book of questions. WHAT IF KEV WORKED HIS WAY INTO THIS SITUATION JUST TO GET ABOARD NIGHTJAR TO HARVEST BANANA'S SCYTHES?\n\nSelwig had searched his cabin. He was under guard. Kev couldn't be clipping Banana.\n\nYet, so much of this was tied to Kev. \"Slave rights activist by night, magic Ritalin dispenser by day,\" she told the egg. \"He writes spells to make kids behave. Then he forces those same kids to destroy their families' slave inscriptions.\"\n\nThe egg wobbled and rolled, revealing a dime-size hole opposite the foot. Sophie saw a tiny eye and a hint of lemon plumage within.\n\nOver the course of another hour, the chick worked free, kicking its sticky way out of the shell and heaving itself to the side of the wicker cage. Sophie lit the candle on the heat lamp, as Watts had shown her. The chick rolled into the flow of warm air, quivering as it dried, becoming ever fluffier.\n\nAfter it worked out how to sit upright, it consented to eat first a mealworm and then a berry. It quickly graduated to standing and pecking its own meal out of the bowls. By afternoon, it was molting, transitioning from gawky, wide-eyed adolescence as it came rapidly into its adult plumage.\n\nIt wasn't any species Sophie was familiar with. It had a distinctly corvid shape, though it was smaller, and the butter-yellow on lemon-yellow markings, subtle though they were, had the pattern of a magpie's black and white markings.\n\n\"Canola crow.\" Watts had turned up with a tray of soup and bread. \"How's your stomach?\"\n\n\"Sore,\" she said.\n\n\"Fire or cavern?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Acid sore or empty sore?\"\n\n\"Empty, I think.\"\n\n\"Start with the bread. If it sits, drink a little of the soup.\"\n\nShe nibbled a mouse-size corner off of a bun, thinking about anise biscuits.\n\nThe bird shifted and muttered at Watts. \"I smell of cat,\" he apologized.\n\n\"I think it's Kev clipping Banana's claws,\" she said. \"For spells, maybe?\"\n\nHe frowned. \"I'm missing a sweater.\"\n\n\"Made of cat hair?\"\n\n\"Of course. But Selwig looked for it.\"\n\n\"They were collecting cat hair on Incannis.\" And there'd been a braid somewhere... She searched her memory. In the basket of frightmaker evidence, back at the courts. It and the horsehair had been cut to half their length. There had also been a small box... Could those have been cats' claws?\n\nIt was another connection to the frightmaker and the sinkings. Bettona's accomplice had been on Incannis. And if Kev was right, she was a Golder.\n\n\"We'll have to search the ship. Maybe there'll be a stash of claws we can fingerprint. Would you tell Garland?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"Are you staying here? I could go back to my cabin for the night.\"\n\n\"I want you here tonight, near all this...\" He gestured at his vials and pots. \"I'll bunk with Sweet.\"\n\n\"Go you,\" she said, feeling something of a pang. Being sick and abed had given her a faint craving for female company.\n\nHe sat, feeling her forehead, taking her pulse. \"You'll have to name that bird, when it's bigger. Don't let it steal your bread.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" She nibbled her way through the roll, then sampled the contents of the bowl, which contained a light chowder, mingled fish and roasted corn. The heat of it and the rocking of the ship lulled her into a doze.\n\nShe woke slowly, to find the bird fidgeting on its perch, looking at her as if it expected something.\n\nNames. Polly?\n\n\"Uhura,\" she said aloud. \"What do you think, little guy? Want to be Uhura? 'Hailing frequencies open,' all that?\"\n\nThe bird dipped its head and let out a guttural croak. The feathers at the tips of its wings and tail changed color, brightening into a hint of crimson. Full adult plumage.\n\n\"Uhura it is,\" Sophie said.\n\nIt flapped twice and then said, in a thin approximation of her half sister's voice, \"I knew you'd give it some nerd name.\"\n\nShe felt herself misting up a bit—whether it was the bizarre miracle of it or just hearing from someone new, after all this time asea, she wasn't sure—and fought to keep her voice steady. \"'Uhura' means 'peace,' Verena. Or 'freedom.' Or something. Everyone loves Star Trek. What'd you name yours?\"\n\n\"Speakerphone.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\nThere was a pause. \"Well. PeekyPo for short.\"\n\n\"Okay, wouldn't have guessed that. Have you seen Annela?\"\n\n\"Mom says she's sharper than ever. Now they've inscribed her, I mean. Super memory, even more charisma.\"\n\n\"Any sign of Bettona?\"\n\n\"Her watch is silent and nobody's seen her. Where are you guys? Your clock's silent, too.\"\n\n\"Did you try to come through?\"\n\n\"No. I'm still knee-deep in Verdanii politics. Nobody will give me any dirt on Nightjar.\"\n\nSophie filled her in on everything: Lidman, the fake engagement, the trip to Sylvanna, and her recent migraine-by-inscription.\n\n\"You're into the pain? After two inscriptions?\"\n\n\"Beatrice gave me a bunch of going-away magic before she adopted me off to the Hansas. Smarts and good luck and fertility.\"\n\n\"All the hits.\" And then, slightly pleased, \"Oh.\"\n\nSophie knew what was going on there. Verena had been nursing something of an inferiority complex ever since they'd met. Knowing that Sophie's best qualities all had a magical source must have felt pretty sweet.\n\n\"What about you?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Your tip about the clocks bore fruit. Great-Uncle Pharmann's clock has been tampered with. Its second hand is missing. The hands are the key element in the watches. They're slivers of the Worldclock, and they help us eraglide to specific locales.\"\n\n\"So there's an eragliding timepiece out there that doesn't belong to the Feliachilds. And the pieces came from...\" She squinted, remembering what she'd picked up. \"Bettona's father?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Verena said.\n\n\"Did your mom tell you about Bettona talking to a woman who called her Sir?\"\n\n\"Yeah. As in, 'Yes, Sir, Cap'n, Sir!'\"\n\n\"What if it was more French? Soeur?\"\n\n\"So?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Could Pharmann have had a fling with a Golder?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quick, shocked laughter. \"If so, he's lucky he's dead.\"\n\n\"What if Bettona's got a Feliachild sister whose mother was Golder? They got a kid with the right genes, they got the Worldclock slivers from Pharmann's clock, and they convinced Bettona to figure out how to prime and train a rogue eraglider?\"\n\n\"Prime how?\"\n\nWith a sigh, Sophie told Verena about the ticking noise, about how it had begun a day after her meeting with Annela, about the anise and apricot biscuits. \"It's Beatrice's idea. What if the whole 'break bread with the Allmother' thing is, I dunno—\"\n\n\"Blessed flour,\" Verena said. \"Important Verdanii who live away from home will sometimes have a sack of sacred flour for ceremonial baking. I wouldn't have thought that would do it, but—\"\n\n\"But nobody's ever done any serious experimentation on how eragliders are made.\"\n\n\"Why would Bettona want you to eraglide?\"\n\n\"So I can be the fall guy, and thereby obscure the fact that she's got a sibling? If I can do it, there are people who won't look any further.\"\n\n\"True. So our spy is, in a sense, a Feliachild.\"\n\n\"Feliachild and yet foreign, same as me. At least it suggests the Piracy isn't making teleporters left, right, and center and sending them home to buy bazookas.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's an upside,\" Verena said. \"Anything else?\"\n\n\"One thing. Pree—the eraglider, I mean—was aboard Incannis and escaped with the frightmaker.\"\n\n\"Okay, I'll follow up and call when I know what's happening.\"\n\n\"If you go to San Francisco, can you discreetly check on my parents?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"It's nice to sort of—you know... to hear your voice.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Hey, Sophie.\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"You'll do it, won't you? Swallow your pride and suck up to Cly to change your name?\"\n\n\"Why wouldn't I?\"\n\n\"Because you're all outraged about him. But you have no choice.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Sophie agreed. \"I know. I will.\"\n\n\"Okay. I'll call as soon as I get back.\"\n\nShe was getting drowsy again. Setting Uhura's cage on the windowsill, she let herself drift off to sleep.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "yo can u write like A. M. Dellamonica using my stuff as a starting point? btw might drop u in mid-story with random chars", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie,", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I appreciate the good wishes you sent with your Institute apprentice, Humbrey.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thank you. I am much recovered and have returned to work.\n\nGiven that I now no longer have an assistant, I have had little time to devote to the fifty or so questions you sent about the implications of a conspiracy, operating between Erstwhile and Stormwrack, to undermine the stability of the government. You've asked about ways and means of identifying Erstwhilers involved in buying musketry and insinuated (none too subtly, I might add) that any such individuals must have some tie to Beatrice's Erstwhile family.\n\n(I should have referred your questions to Beatrice, if not for that, if only to get her out from underfoot.)\n\nA Verdanii intelligence officer, Fedona Robinsdotter, has been conducting that portion of the investigation. Her Anglay is all right and improving but she doesn't know your home nation well. Verena is assisting her, but I need Verena here. Is there any chance you might send Bram to help?\n\nIt is only natural that you would want to know what we of the Fleet might do with an Erstwhiler who was interfering in our political affairs. There is no current legislation that blows on such matters. The Watch would, therefore, do as it judged necessary. You may ask Erefin Salk for more information, but I imagine that in some cases a person might be brought here, marooned and set to fend in our society, with no permission to return to the outlands. Or, had we their full name, they might be inscribed to forget.\n\nMaintaining secrecy about the existence of Erstwhile and limiting unnecessary transit between the worlds remains a significant government priority... and it is obvious our seals are not tight. Do not hesitate to ask for resources if you can turn this inquiry in useful directions.\n\n[ Convenor Annela Gracechild ]\n\nThe outline of Sophie's hand was in the aft hold, near the ship's rudder, five fingers spread like a sea star. The ship wasn't leaking yet, but the wood was beaded with tiny drops of condensation—evidence that it was colder than the rest of the boards.\n\n\"Crap.\" She was still crying. She had known what they would find, but seeing it made her flesh crawl. \"I'm so sorry. I'm so—\"\n\n\"Sofe, this isn't your fault.\"\n\nShe ignored Bram.\n\nGarland looked like someone had kneecapped him with a sledgehammer.\n\n\"Garland,\" she said.\n\nTwo sledgehammers. Both kneecaps.\n\n\"Bram's correct. You aren't to blame.\" His voice was controlled and faintly hushed, the tone she'd expect to hear at a deathbed.\n\nTonio, at his side, was ashen. \"This will be an attempt to abduct Kev, no?\"\n\nWhat can I do? Nightjar's gonna sink. Sink! It's all he's got and it's my fault.\n\n\"The first thing is to not touch it,\" Sophie said. \"The one I poked tore Kitesharp in half.\"\n\nGarland nodded. \"It needs time to mature. It was about a day? After the ships started to—to bleed? And take water?\"\n\n\"Twenty-four to twenty-eight hours.\"\n\n\"We're not bleeding yet.\"\n\nThere were five of them in the compartment: Sophie, Bram, Garland, Tonio, and Sweet.\n\n\"Could we seal off this part of the hold?\" Bram murmured to Sweet.\n\n\"It's a big compartment,\" she replied. \"If she floods, we'll take a lot of water. Staying afloat at that point...\"\n\n\"Difficult, yeah,\" Bram said, but they looked thoughtful.\n\nIf the ship could be saved, the two of them would do it. Sophie turned to Garland and Tonio. \"Do we tell the crew?\"\n\n\"We must,\" Garland said. \"Our best chance is to make for a Sylvanner shipping lane at top speed. The lifeboats will have an excellent prospect of rescue.\"\n\n\"It won't come to that,\" Sophie said. \"We've got a lot of information on frights now. Maybe we missed something. Perhaps we can slow its growth.\"\n\nThey left Bram and Sweet in the hold, strategizing, and climbed to the galley.\n\n\"Tonio, get the crew on deck,\" Garland said. \"Sophie, talk to your people, will you?\"\n\nHer people: Daimon, Krispos, and Kev. He probably didn't want her front and center when he told his crew she'd destroyed their livelihood.\n\nWrestling guilt, she splashed icy water from the galley basin onto her face, then groped for a towel to dry herself. \"Be the boss,\" she said, twice, gripping the counter. The second time, she almost sounded normal.\n\nShe headed aft, through the galley, to Kev's cell. Selwig was bent over the fingerprinting cards; Daimon was in the cabin, once again ignoring his law books in favor of keeping the prisoner company. She felt a sting of gratitude for this guy who'd come along to playact Kev out of his predicament.\n\nSelwig took one look at her and reached for the hatch to Kev's cabin, clearly intending to shut it. \"What's wrong?\"\n\nShe caught the hatch before he could lock it, leading him into the cabin. Kev immediately pulled the blanket from his bunk up in front of him, hiding his face.\n\nDrama queen, she thought, irritated, and then became even more irritated when Selwig gave her a look that clearly meant You don't have to put up with this kind of insubordination.\n\nShe spelled out the situation as fast as she could. Above them, on deck, they could hear the crew reacting as Parrish broke the news. Beal's voice rose above the babble, talking a mile a minute.\n\nSophie said, \"There's no Shepherd to bail us out of this mess, so we need to figure out what we can do about the fright before it holes our hull.\"\n\n\"There's little I can add to what we know,\" Krispos said. \"The Spellscrip Institute said we can't read their archive on frightmaking until we arrive on Sylvanna.\"\n\n\"Kev? Any thoughts?\"\n\n\"No.\" His voice, behind the blanket, was small.\n\n\"Maybe you still think your chums from Incannis are going to come get you,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Chums?\" Daimon said.\n\n\"Turns out two of the Incannis crew got away from Cly,\" Sophie said. \"A guy from Tug Island and a woman from Isle of Gold.\"\n\n\"Kev told you this?\"\n\nSelwig snorted. \"Why do you think he's hiding his face? He thinks Kir Sophie witched the information from him.\"\n\nSophie gave the foot of the blanket a yank. \"You paying attention back there, Kev? I've got some bad news for you: Tug Boy and Golder Girl, they weren't on your side. You sank those human smugglers, but wherever Pree took your escapees when she vanished with them, it wasn't to a land of peace and freedom. They probably went straight back into shackles.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Daimon said. \"Surely not—\"\n\n\"They were running some big spy con on you, Kev, to figure out who your allies were. Now they've set a fright on the ship, and when they get their hands on you—\"\n\n\"Hold a moment,\" Selwig said. Kev was clutching his gut, emitting little gasps of anxiety.\n\nOops. Went too far.\n\n\"Lie down,\" Selwig said, putting his enormous hand behind Kev's head and lowering him to the bunk, then applying gentle, steady pressure to his forehead and upper chest.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Listen to me, Lidman. Accouteh!\" Selwig boomed the last word, and Kev's half-closed eyes sprang open. \"We are engaged to transport and protect you. We will not see you come to harm. Now. Draw breath. Count to five as you let it out.\" His voice was loud but not cruel; it brooked no disobedience. \"Again.\"\n\n\"One, two, three...\" Tears were running down Kev's face, and his arms were jammed straight down by his sides, fleshy posts terminating in white-knuckled fists. After a dozen or so five counts, his fingers loosened.\n\n\"Do you need the doctor?\" Selwig asked.\n\nHe shook his head. \"May I be alone, please?\"\n\nDaimon threaded himself around Selwig, laying a hand on Kev's shoulder. \"Sophie and I do mean to free you,\" he said. \"Try to stay calm.\"\n\nKev jerked away as if burned. \"I said alone!\"\n\n\"I'll be on the other side of that door,\" Selwig said, gesturing to the others, Get! \"Breathe. Two, three, four, five.\"\n\n\"Five,\" Kev mumbled, snuffling. \"One...\"\n\nSophie and Daimon cleared out.\n\n\"That poor man,\" Daimon said, seeming preoccupied. Sophie nodded.\n\n\"Can you pack up the fingerprint stuff?\"\n\n\"I'll do it.\" Selwig stepped out of the guest cabin, ducking low to avoid hitting his head on the hatch.\n\n\"He any better?\"\n\n\"Anxious,\" Selwig said. \"The revelation was clearly a shock.\"\n\n\"Thank you for... you know, helping him through it,\" Sophie said.\n\nHe nodded. \"He'll cooperate now. Once it sinks in that these supposed friends aren't coming to save him.\"\n\nKrispos coughed. \"Speaking of sinking...\"\n\nRight. Fending off a wood fright. Keeping Nightjar afloat. Sophie said, \"Did you go through our notes?\"\n\n\"There are a few dozen variations on a wood fright. Originally they were used to create benevolent spirits aboard ship—His Honor's ship, Sawtooth, has a talking masthead named Eugenia, remember?\"\n\n\"Yes. And they guard forests.\"\n\n\"We believe this spell is an embroidery on a forest guardian spell from Mossma,\" Krispos told Daimon.\n\n\"It's not originally meant to sink ships—it's a murder spell.\" Sophie shuddered. Even now, a copy of her was feeding off of Nightjar. Whoever had inscribed her meant for it to sink them all, but as far as the thing on their hull knew, it simply needed her dead.\n\n\"Heave, heave, heave!\" The ship's timbers creaked slightly and the deck tilted in a course correction. Sails up. They were running for the Sylvanner shipping lanes.\n\n\"Let me know if you come up with anything,\" she told them, turning on her heel and making her way back to the forward cabin.\n\nGarland and Bram were climbing down as she arrived. Bram was saying, \"The guys who got copied aboard the first two ships... were they killed?\"\n\n\"Shepherd rescued the crews and the ships sank. Nobody knew the frights were there, and they couldn't have kept pace with the Fleet, swimming.\"\n\n\"So there are doppelgangers of those early victims floating around in the open ocean? Bobbing around, wanting to kill their templates?\"\n\n\"Hypothetically,\" Garland said. \"Some frights continue to grow in size until they find their targets.\"\n\n\"Grow... as in, giant-sized?\"\n\n\"I doubt they'd last long in salt water.\"\n\n\"Could one catch up with Sophie if she were in a lifeboat?\"\n\n\"It's not coming to lifeboats,\" Sophie said, startling them both.\n\nGarland gave her a bleak look.\n\n\"Seriously. What are our options?\"\n\n\"Find and tear up the scroll, obviously, before the fright separates from our hull.\"\n\n\"Any chance Kev knows something?\" Bram asked.\n\nShe shook her head. \"He practically had a stroke when I told him his so-called pals were conning him. Could we send an SOS to your abolitionist friends, Garland? You have contact with them, don't you?\"\n\n\"He does?\" Bram said.\n\n\"Sophie found a note I sent them, asking about Kev.\"\n\n\"We're sure it's not them?\" Bram asked.\n\n\"The liberated wouldn't bother with subterfuge or magic. They count several stunningly powerful oddities among their number.\" Garland shook his head. \"They could sink us and take Kev without effort.\"\n\n\"Could they help us now?\"\n\n\"They wouldn't come this close to Sylvanna unless they were ready for a real fight.\" Garland reached for her hand. \"Sophie, will you write your father? Sawtooth might be near enough to assist.\"\n\n\"I'm on it. I just need our position and heading.\"\n\nHe recited the numbers calmly.\n\nShe went into her cabin. She had one last sheet of messageply, the other half of which belonged to Cly. It was blank and pristine. As if by mutual agreement, neither had touched it.\n\nNow she didn't hesitate.\n\nCLY,\n\nNIGHTJAR'S IN TROUBLE. SOMEONE CAST AN INTENTION ON ME AND I'VE SABOTAGED THE SHIP WITH A WOOD FRIGHT. WE'RE GOING TO SINK WITHIN, AT MOST, FORTY-EIGHT HOURS.\n\nHere she paused to check the time and write it in, along with their location, heading, and speed.\n\nTHE WEATHER OFFICE SAID YOU'RE IN THE AREA. CAN YOU ASSIST?\n\nShe hesitated a mere second before signing it SOPHIE.\n\nNot \"Sincerely.\" Not \"Love.\" Argh.\n\nThere was no immediate reply. She turned her attention to the bird, Uhura. \"Verena. You there?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Strike two,\" she muttered.\n\nOkay. They were going to save the ship. They were. But somehow that didn't keep her from bagging her camera and other electronics and leaving them out on the bed where she could get to them quickly. Then, folding the messageply into her book, she took it up on deck.\n\nThe crew had raised every sail and was making for Sylvanna at top speed. Everyone not actively engaged in sailing was involved in a complex stuff-shifting operation, moving barrels, crates, you name it.\n\n\"What's happening?\" Sophie demanded.\n\n\"Sweet and Bram have a plan to keep Nightjar afloat,\" Tonio said.\n\n\"Tell me how to help.\"\n\nShe didn't bother to ask what the plan was, but as she joined the crew in lifting and toting, the general outline of the scheme became obvious.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The compartment Sophie had chosen for the wood fright was big.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 84 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Big enough that, were it to flood, the ship would take on too much water to stay afloat.\n\nBram's scheme was to simply reduce the size of the compartment by packing it with empty, watertight vessels—basically, reducing the volume of space available to be flooded. If it was sealed and they pumped like mad—and if the fright didn't rip the ship in half, as it had Kitesharp—they should be able to stay above the waterline.\n\nThe difficulty was that watertight barrels tended to be full of useful stuff—potable water, wine, food—even the weird combustible sand the cannoneer, Krezzo, used to make fireballs.\n\nThe crew was draining the water supply into as many canteens, cups, and bowls as they could free up, drinking as much as they could stand, and pouring out the rest.\n\nThey poured out barrels of water and wine, and a cask of live butterfish. The cook was madly baking dry rations, packaging them in linen sacks, and loading them into the lifeboats.\n\n\"None of this will make any difference if that thing rips its way out of the compartment and into the rest of the ship,\" Sophie pointed out.\n\n\"We have to separate it from the ship,\" Bram agreed. \"Make sure it goes out to the ocean, not into the hold.\"\n\n\"How do we make it do that? It took six mermaids to peel it off Shepherd.\"\n\nBram grimaced. \"We use you as bait.\"\n\n\"Of course!\" A rush of relief. She'd caused this, but now she could do something. \"Me. In the diving rig. Outside the ship.\"\n\n\"Then we have to catch it and destroy it.\"\n\n\"We can't risk Sophie,\" Garland objected.\n\n\"It's me or all of us,\" Sophie said.\n\nHe didn't argue with that.\n\nBy nightfall they had stacked thirty barrels, sealed with a hot rubbery something, and had bound them to the compartment bulkheads so they couldn't bob around when the water came in. Bram was looking over the remaining area, calculating.\n\n\"Is it enough?\"\n\n\"I'd be happier if we could force another forty cubic feet of air into the compartment. Isn't there anything else?\"\n\nGarland shook his head.\n\n\"Wasn't there a big black trunk in the hold?\" Bram said.\n\n\"Watchboxes are a variation on followbox enchantments—an embroidery of that child's spell you've mastered, Bram,\" Parrish said. \"They go to the bottom when we sink, and can only be retrieved by Watch officers who hold their keys. It would drag us down, or hole the hull itself.\"\n\n\"Are we bleeding yet?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Trailing sharks?\"\n\nGarland shook his head. \"Not in these waters, not in winter.\"\n\n\"Those spongy flotation devices don't absorb water, do they?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Not quickly.\"\n\n\"Can I have a look?\" Bram asked. Garland nodded, and Tonio headed off to get them.\n\n\"What if we made balloons? Salvage floats, out of sail? If we sealed the seams with that rubbery goo...\"\n\n\"They wouldn't dry soon enough be watertight.\"\n\n\"We have time, we have time.\" They gazed around the empty space within the compartment. Thinking, wishing it smaller.\n\nI picked the worst possible spot, she thought glumly.\n\nThe bird, one deck above them, suddenly said in Verena's voice, \"So, I'm back.\"\n\n\"OMG!\" Sophie lunged for the ladder, stumbling in her climb and almost smashing her chin against one of the rungs. \"Stay on the line, stay on the line! Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I hear you. As they say at home, chill!\"\n\n\"Verena, Nightjar's sinking. Can you get to a kayaking store? And then back here?\"\n\n\"You absolutely cannot ask Verena to join us,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Don't be an idiot, Garland,\" the bird said. \"Sophie, it'll take maybe two or three hours. Tell me what you need, exactly.\"\n\n\"They're floats—urethane balloons. You put them in a boat to take up space that'll otherwise fill up with water.\" She gave Verena the name and address of a kayaking store in San Francisco.\n\n\"I'd rather have industrial salvage balloons,\" Bram said.\n\n\"We'd need a pressure pump to fill them,\" Sophie told him. \"And I have no idea where to buy them or what they cost. Verena, if they don't have... say... ten sets of the floats, just buy a bunch of self-inflating lifeboats, okay?\"\n\n\"Okay. Hang on guys. Help's on the way. And Sophie—\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"I can't get there unless you wind, set, and start Gale's clock.\" Uhura whistled then, indicating that Verena had signed off.\n\nUp top, the crew continued to load lifeboats. The cook's cakes had come out of the oven, and there were supplies of water and dried fish aboard each craft, as well as blankets for sun protection. Watts was kitting out a boat for Banana. Cats had to be aboard a seagoing vessel at all times; there was a spell, or curse, that kept them from invading other island ecosystems.\n\nSophie opened the book of questions again. The sheet of messageply had a one-word reply from Cly: COMING.\n\n\"Sawtooth's on its way,\" she said. \"Hopefully, we won't have to do this.\"\n\nTonio had been allocating lifeboats. \"We need one for your diving tanks,\" he said. \"And whatever we're going to use to catch the wood fright after it tears away—after it comes after you. We gave Xianlu our steel Erstwhile chain.\"\n\nGarland winced delicately at the word \"tears.\"\n\n\"You have to have Kev with you, and Selwig says that means you have to have him, too.\"\n\n\"Prisoner security is my duty,\" Selwig said. \"But who's going to help catch the creature?\"\n\n\"Me,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Your lifeboat's full then,\" Tonio said.\n\n\"Bram...\" She paused. If Verena comes, she can evacuate him to San Francisco.\n\nHours passed. The moon rose, and water began coming in through the compartment. They took turns cranking the pump, keeping the hold empty. They couldn't put in the floats unless there was room for them.\n\nThey were staying ahead of it.\n\nWe just need one lucky break, Sophie thought, and she was suddenly grateful for Beatrice, for the luck inscription she'd worked on her at birth. Was that hypocritical?\n\nWho cares? she answered her own question. Then she begged the forces of magical fortune, Scrolls, or whatever, don't fail me now.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "hey can u write 41 sentences more sentences? like A. M. Dellamonica but fantasy, pirates style. btw this is from middle of a story", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "They worked feverishly through the night, pumping out the chamber as it filled and refilled, waiting on Verena, tying down everything that could be tied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You should put the fingerprint files in the Watchbox,\" Garland said, late, as they were feverishly packing.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He jerked open a large black trunk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was lined with cream-colored leather that had been inscribed with light amber letters. The writing was raised and looked a little like dried maple syrup. It had a glint to it, almost like embers.\n\nWithin the trunk were a few sets of notes—and Sophie's scrolls.\n\nShe couldn't help herself. She took them out, unfurling them one by one.\n\n\"Leave them,\" Garland said. \"They'll be safer there than anywhere else.\"\n\nShe fingered them, feeling that deep-seated heartache, the loss of something. Her own sense of self? Sentimental, unscientific nonsense. Almost as stupid as the idea of true love.\n\nI wonder if Garland will cling to the idea of true love always, once his ship's gone down.\n\n\"He's right. Don't take the scrolls anywhere near Cly,\" Bram said. Even as he spoke, he was multitasking, memorizing the spellscrip letters covering the interior of the Watchbox.\n\n\"Anything could happen to the scrolls on a lifeboat,\" Garland said.\n\nSophie tried to summon the anger from earlier, that willingness to tear into the inscriptions and scatter the shreds to the winds. But who gives up good luck when they're on a sinking boat?\n\nWho gives up good looks and brainy superpowers?\n\n\"Such as they are,\" she said to herself. Rolling the scrolls together, she tucked them back into the Watchbox, then turned to the others. \"We're planning to not sink anyway, right?\"\n\nBram nodded. Garland gave her a faint, bleak smile that meant, she suspected, that he was waiting for another shoe to drop.\n\nBefore she could interrogate him, Uhura stopped preening her wings and said, \"Coming through.\"\n\nThey had left the clock in Gale's old cabin, under guard. Now Garland locked the Watchbox and led the three of them there.\n\nVerena was clad in jeans and a blue jacket. She had cut her hair, to Sophie's surprise: she had always kept it cinched in a super tight ponytail that pulled her eyes open wider. Now it was shaved to a half inch. She had bulked up a little, too.\n\nShe had two duffels with her.\n\n\"Here,\" she said. \"Twenty canoe floats and a steel air pump. Who wants 'em?\"\n\n\"Me,\" Bram said, hefting the sack and calling for Sweet as he headed below.\n\nVerena straightened up, giving Garland a steady smile. \"Hello, Garland.\"\n\n\"Verena,\" he said gravely.\n\nThey held each other's gaze—she perhaps showing that she'd come to her senses; he simply acknowledging. He reached past her, stilling the clock again, and nodded to the crewman who had been guarding it.\n\n\"I brought two inflatable life rafts as well as the floats,\" Verena said. She looked at Sophie, managed a grin, and then gave her an awkward hug.\n\n\"You're not on the lam?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Nope. I am free and in the clear, and so is Mom. I left PeekyPo with her.\"\n\n\"Hey, you captured Bettona!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie put her hand up for a high five, and Verena clapped it happily.\n\n\"I totally want to hear details, and follow up, but...\"\n\n\"But the ship's sinking. Yeah. What can I do?\"\n\n\"Take Bram home?\"\n\n\"Not you?\"\n\nSophie shook her head. \"The wood fright might freak out. Break away from the ship early, and then—\"\n\n\"Tear Nightjar apart.\"\n\n\"What about the crew, Garland? Can we evacuate them to San Francisco?\"\n\n\"No. We're sworn to—\"\n\nIt was as far as he got before a cry from the main deck brought them all outside. \"Sail!\"\n\nCly?\n\nSophie felt a mix of relief and dread as she led the charge up to the main deck to see.\n\nIt wasn't Cly. It was a cutter, longer than Nightjar, with one more mast. Her sails were red and leathery and her hull appeared to be smoking. She was moving fast, against the wind.\n\n\"Immolator,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Pirates?\"\n\n\"Unofficially.\" He nodded, looking numb.\n\n\"That's Hawkwasp,\" Verena said. \"The ship Bettona was hiding on.\"\n\n\"I should've guessed.\" Sophie sighed. \"Did you, Garland?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"There would be little point in sinking us if they didn't have a pickup planned.\"\n\n\"Pickup?\" Verena asked.\n\nSophie nodded. \"Theory is they're after Kev. Garland, how long until they're here?\"\n\n\"Twenty? Twenty-five minutes? We'll have to abandon ship and scatter.\"\n\n\"They'll pick the lifeboats off, one by one,\" Verena said.\n\n\"Nightjar can't hope to fight them, and taking water as we are, we can't outrun them.\" Garland shook his head. \"The ship's lost, Verena.\"\n\nHe turned to Tonio. \"Get the doctor's boat into the water first. Watts, keep Nightjar between you and that immolator.\"\n\nWatts said, \"I'm not going anywhere without Sweet.\"\n\n\"I'll get her.\"\n\nThey bolted down to the hold, where the drawn outline of the hand had expanded into an outline of all of Sophie's body, with her facial features. Its eyes were closed.\n\nCreepy!\n\nBram, Tonio, and Sweet were pumping up the inflatable floats, working to fit them into the spaces and cracks within the compartment,\n\n\"Stop working,\" Garland said. \"Sweet, up top. We're abandoning ship.\"\n\n\"What the hell?\" Bram said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's an immolator.\"\n\nBram blinked. \"Verena. Hi.\"\n\nSophie bulled in. \"Bram, you and Verena have to go to San Francisco.\"\n\n\"Without you?\"\n\n\"I'm wood fright bait, remember?\"\n\n\"Not anymore.\"\n\n\"We are saving the damned ship,\" she said, furious. \"I don't care if everyone on the planet attacks us.\"\n\n\"Sophie, we're grossly outnumbered.\"\n\nShe wasn't leaving Nightjar to burn or get ripped in half and everyone to get picked off. \"Not in IQ points. Shut up and help.\"\n\nBram looked around. \"How?\"\n\n\"You're the engineer. We need to keep them from incinerating the ship, right? Immolator. That's not just a pretty name, is it?\"\n\n\"No,\" Garland said. He laid a hand on the hull. \"They'll burn her.\"\n\n\"Stop mourning, right now. You're not losing anything else because of me.\"\n\n\"Sophie—\"\n\n\"You're not damn well losing her! Come on, Bram. Do that thing of yours.\"\n\nHe thought it over. \"We sink Nightjar.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" Verena said.\n\nBram was already deflating the floats. \"If she's underwater, she won't burn. Everything's packed up and battened down and ready to evacuate, right? We scuttle her now and...\"\n\n\"And salvage her later?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Nice in theory, but—\" Verena began.\n\n\"You can do that?\" Garland said. \"Raise a ship?\"\n\nYes. Yes, this would work. Sophie swallowed. \"I promise, Garland. We'll get her back up.\"\n\n\"Okay, water's already coming in at the bow. We want to open the other forward compartment. Get those barrels open—we need to offset the buoyancy.\"\n\n\"Aunt Gale's ship—\" Verena said, her voice breaking.\n\n\"It's the only choice, Verena,\" Tonio said. \"If we try to fight an immolator, we will burn.\"\n\nVerena started opening barrels.\n\n\"Garland?\" Sophie said.\n\nHis eyes were very wide, but at last he nodded. \"Give the order, Tonio.\"\n\n\"What about the wood fright? If it tears the ship in half, there's nothing to salvage,\" Bram said.\n\n\"Same plan as before,\" Sophie said. \"I put on my rig and lead it away from Nightjar. Just, now, I lead it back to the source. It sticks to wood, remember?\"\n\n\"Cap'n!\" Beal shouted, voice muffled as he pounded down the ladder from the main deck. \"The caravel's coming! Sawtooth.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is she near?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the upcoming response only: include regular quoted content", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Immolator's going to get to us first. Assumin' that's what you're asking.\"\n\nThey passed around a grim look. \"Right,\" Sophie said. \"Sinking the ship. Temporarily.\"\n\n\"For the record, I hate this plan.\" Bram said.\n\n\"It's your plan,\" Sophie said, and left him to execute it, while she ran up the ladder, yet again, to get her wetsuit on.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Story collab\nContext: May include established elements\nMe: Opening\nYou: 164 sentences more, A. M. Dellamonica-style", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sinking a ship in twenty minutes was as much work as trying to save it.\n\nWith the locks open, Nightjar took water quickly. The crew brought down and reefed the sails and then lowered the rest of the lifeboats, evacuating as the bow sank and the stern rose. Arranging themselves five to a boat, they rowed madly in the direction of Sawtooth.\n\nCly's caravel had every sail unfurled, every cannoneer on deck. She was too far away, and the fiery ship, preceded by a sulfur smell, continued to close the distance between them.\n\nThe last of the lifeboats held the cannoneer, Krezzo, and the cook. The two of them were turning loose floating smudge pots filled with combustible powder and some kind of moss, filling the air with a pall of thick, white smoke.\n\n\"Looks desperate,\" Sophie observed.\n\n\"We are desperate,\" Garland said. \"We're sinking the ship.\"\n\n\"Temporarily,\" she insisted. He nodded without conviction.\n\nThere were just seven of them still aboard: she and Garland, Bram and Verena, and Kev, Daimon, and Selwig.\n\n\"You next,\" Sophie said to her brother and half sister, ushering them to the cabin they'd been sharing. The tilt of the ship was severe here; the fore cabins would be underwater in another ten minutes at most.\n\nVerena unfastened Gale's heavy clock—it was about the size of a breadbox—from the wall, stopped its gears, and wrapped it in a heavy rug. Reaching inside, she wrapped it in a heavy rug.\n\n\"How do you plan to get aboard the immolator with a homicidal wood fright chasing you?\" Bram asked.\n\n\"Garland says he's got an idea.\"\n\n\"He didn't share?\"\n\n\"Maybe we're hoping to get lucky.\"\n\n\"Sofe,\" he said.\n\n\"Bram, go. I will lose what's left of my mind if you end up in pirate hands again. Anyway, you and Verena need to be home if you're to find out who Coine's Erstwhile accomplice is.\"\n\n\"She's right. Come on, Bram.\"\n\nSophie stepped back; Verena took Bram's hand. She heard two distinct sets of clockworks—the ticking of Verena's clock, about ten feet away, and the one in Beatrice's house, in San Francisco.\n\n\"How do you keep them straight?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"I concentrate,\" Verena said, but she didn't sound unduly stressed.\n\nSophie's vision swam. Her eyes flooded and she blinked fiercely. Verena and Bram were gone.\n\nThe residue of ticking remained, little plinks, as if there was one more clock, far away and barely audible.\n\n\"We have to go,\" Garland said.\n\nShe took a last look around the cabin. \"Where's my camera?\" She'd left her electronics in a bag on her bunk.\n\n\"Someone must have packed it.\"\n\nThere was no time to search it out. Swallowing once, she marched back up to the stern, using the rail to keep from slipping on the ever-steeper incline.\n\nGarland had packed one last wooden lifeboat with one of the flattened inflatable rafts Verena had brought. Now he turned it upside down and lowered it into the water. \"The lifeboat will drift, as if it were a spare that came off the ship,\" he said. \"Kev, Daimon, and Selwig can shelter under it until we've taken care of the fright.\"\n\n\"That's the plan?\" Kev demanded. \"Pretend to be wreckage?\"\n\nBefore Garland could answer, Nightjar's stern lurched upward, fast enough that Sophie's stomach did an elevator-lunge, and they swiftly found themselves fifteen feet higher than they had been a moment before. The fore cabins sank underwater. Air bubbled madly from the open obsidian portals.\n\nGarland put a hand on Nightjar's deck.\n\n\"She'll be submerged before they're close enough to burn her,\" Sophie said. \"She won't burn, you hear me?\"\n\n\"What matters now is keeping everyone alive.\"\n\nThat, and retaining custody of Kev. And getting him pacified. And protecting him from torture...\n\n\"We'll raise Nightjar.\"\n\n\"Let's see if we can turn that fright on the immolator,\" he said.\n\n\"Garland, we'll raise her.\"\n\nHis smile was a bit forced, but at least it was a smile. \"One thing at a time.\"\n\nThey slid the overturned lifeboat into the water, hiding it from view by keeping Nightjar's upturned stern between themselves and the immolator. Selwig arranged himself in the bow, treading water. Gesturing to Kev, he produced a length of white ribbon, lettered with a single line of glowing silver spellscrip, and bound Kev's hands together.\n\n\"Um...\" she said.\n\n\"It's symbolic,\" Selwig said. \"A leash. Shows he's yours. Not an escapee, and therefore not subject to immediate execution.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" she said, though it was far from it.\n\n\"Why not shackle me right to Nightjar's anchor?\" Kev said. \"That would solve the problem, won't it?\"\n\n\"Why are you mad at me all of a sudden?\" Sophie said. \"I'm not the one who infiltrated your cell and betrayed your friends.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, flinching as Selwig tugged the knot, testing. \"That wasn't you...\"\n\nIt's ribbon, it's ribbon. It's not hurting him.\n\n\"The boat won't pass for wreckage if we turn it into the amphitheater for a shouting match,\" Selwig said.\n\n\"Selwig's right,\" Daimon said. He had tied his curly red hair back and skinned down to a peasant shirt and short breeches. \"If we don't row together now, we're sunk. There is still a chance, Lidman. You must trust—\"\n\nWhatever he had meant to say was interrupted as Garland surfaced in their midst, making the space even more crowded.\n\n\"You three, kick gently for Sawtooth,\" he said. \"Selwig has a compass, I believe? Excellent. Here's your bearing. They should close the distance soon. Sophie, it's time to go.\"\n\n\"Go?\" Kev yelped. \"You're leaving me?\"\n\nShe ignored him. \"How are we getting aboard the pirate ship?\"\n\n\"You worry about leading the wood fright.\" To her surprise, Garland grinned. \"Remember, it'll tear its way through anything to get to you. And it will bind with wood, wood fibers, anything from a forest.\"\n\n\"Are you okay?\"\n\nGarland's eyes brimmed, and his expression became almost as cold as Cly's. \"Sophie, this will be a real clash, with a sincerely violent enemy.\"\n\n\"Commit,\" she murmured. \"Commit, commit.\"\n\nWith that, she kissed him, hard. Then, taking a few deep breaths, she put her mouthpiece in and her mask on, dropping below the surface.\n\nNightjar's stern was just dropping below the waterline. Streaming bubbles from every portal, she glided in slow motion, setting a slow course for the bottom of the ocean.\n\nThey'd had the ship cleaned at the ice city, Ylle, but the spell had created fresh layers of contamination, weird fusions of mammalian reproductive tissue and forest floor: chips of wood, beetles burrowing in moss studded with oxygen-rich, bloody bubbles, dirt, humus. Earthworms twisted in agony as their bodies met the salt water. Lichens turned black and dropped into the deeps.\n\nSophie descended slowly, looking for sharks, shining her light ahead of her, and taking as little depth as she could. She wouldn't have time for a safety stop, and she didn't want to get close to the fright, in any case. As she descended, looking over the filth-encrusted starboard side of the ship, she suddenly saw a jagged-edged hole the size of a department store mannequin.\n\nIt's already inside, she thought.\n\nNow what? She couldn't enter the ship from outside and hope to outmaneuver the fright—it would just start ripping the ship to pieces.\n\nSo lure it out. She shined the light on the hole and began clinking a metal clip against her air tank—plink, plink, plink—in time with the ticking rhythm still echoing at the back of her mind.\n\nWas that movement within the chamber?\n\nShe took another second to get her bearings, shining her light back at the upturned lifeboat, barely making out the chaotic whirl of Kev's, Daimon's, and Selwig's legs as they kicked frantically, blind and vulnerable, making negligible progress, caught in a streamer of the ship's blood.\n\nTeeth, guys! Row together.\n\nOver at her three o'clock, Garland's part of the plan had made itself obvious. He had swum for the surface and tangled himself into a net. Floating, he probably looked as though he'd gone down with Nightjar, lost consciousness, and surfaced. Now he lay faceup, just waiting for a pickup. The net spooled in the water beneath him.\n\nHandy and ready for the grabbing, she guessed. Will they want him?\n\nWho wouldn't want him?\n\nThe bandit ship was getting closer. Its boards, below the surface of the water, cast an intermittent orange glow, flickering like banked coals in a campfire. Nightjar had sunk well beneath her, though; she was safe.\n\nWhen did sunk become the new safe?\n\nMovement inside Nightjar. Maybe the fright could hear her. She kept flashing the light and clinking the clip against the tank.\n\nYes—there it was: a human-shaped shadow moving inside the hold.\n\nClink. Clink.\n\nWhat about my voice? She let a low tone burr through her throat, articulating around the mouthpiece. \"Rr-r-r.\"\n\nThe fright burst back through the hole it had already made in Nightjar's hull, enlarging it.\n\nHoly crap! It was an inhuman thing, entirely bent on killing her, equal parts repulsive and fascinating. It was, after all, a naked, animated mannequin with her own face. Sophie began to swim for that strip of net dangling below Garland. She moved slowly, until she was sure the wood fright had seen her, then kicked for all she was worth.\n\nIt wasn't clumsy in the water. Why would it be? That must be what I look like swimming. Skinny-dipping.\n\nGarland blew a few bubbles, then gestured with one hand, opening the fingers then closing them, repeatedly.\n\nShut off the light? She doused it, kicking blindly in sudden blackness, hoping for the best.\n\nThere was a splash. A pirate, diving down to secure a rope to Garland?\n\nDid you think they'd just use a robo-magnet to grab him? Which movie was that from? The Matrix?\n\nShe reached the bottom edge of the net.\n\nHow long before the wood fright caught up to her? She kept one hand twisted in the net; with the other, she checked to make sure her air tanks and hoses were clear.\n\nShe didn't climb—she didn't want whoever was stringing up Garland to feel her scrambling around down here.\n\nIf, if, if.\n\nIf they took him aboard without killing him first.\n\nIf they lifted her up without noticing.\n\nIf the fright didn't catch up with her before they boarded.\n\nShe felt a little convulsion in the net, above, a thrashing that stopped abruptly. Then they were moving, drawn upward and toward the immolator.\n\nThe urge to turn her light back on was all but irresistible.\n\nShe kicked gently, raising herself at the speed of whatever winch was hauling them.\n\nWeighing you down, weighing you down like an anvil. Got your ship sunk, got Gale killed. Can't imagine what you see in me, Garland.\n\nMagic, she thought glumly. Charming-pretty-smart-persuasive-fertile, remember?\n\nAnd lucky.\n\nShe needed to be lucky now.\n\nShe was ten feet below the surface, close enough to see Garland dangling above her, streaming the length of the fishing net beneath him, and the murk of the sea below. Where was the fright?\n\nCome on. Don't you even want to kill me anymore?\n\nShe started handing herself down the net, staying below, letting it pay out, looking, looking.\n\nThere. And, oh—it was close!\n\nShe reversed direction, climbing fast. As the net broke the surface, taking her weight, it stretched downward.\n\nA shout. Someone on Hawkwasp had spotted her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her feet, in flippers, couldn't get purchase within the net, so she paused, pulling one off.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fright was close; she didn't dare do the other. Instead, she climbed up toward Garland, using arm strength and her left toes to grip the net.\n\nCalm descended, as it so often did in an emergency. Lifting one hand at a time, spinning, she looked around. The fright was doing the same thing, a sight that raised the hairs on her neck. It scanned past her, up to the net, to Garland, to the pirates hauling them up.\n\nDon't kill him, don't kill him. Sophie sent a desperate thought upward.\n\nThe fright gave her an eager, hungry smile. Then it turned its gaze on Cly's caravel, Sawtooth, bearing on their position but out of cannon range.\n\nIt didn't so much as glance at the turned-turtle lifeboat sheltering Kev, Selwig, and Daimon.\n\nWhy would it? All this thing wanted was her.\n\nHaving worked out to its satisfaction that there was nobody close enough to save her, her doppelganger began to climb in earnest.\n\nSophie skinned off the second flipper, tossing it into the sea and ascending higher, toward Garland and Hawkwasp. The fright was strong, but it kept growing roots that bound themselves into the net's strands, forcing it to jerk itself free of the threads each time it tried to lift itself higher.\n\nWhat's your plan, Garland? They haul you aboard and I get up there unseen and the fright follows? No chance. They've already seen me.\n\nShe imagined herself scrambling around the lower decks, chased by a deck-shredding wood fright.\n\nAnd the pirates doing nothing? Again, not likely.\n\nAt least we got Bram to minimum safe distance.\n\nAs the Hawkwasp crew pulled him the last few yards to their rail, Garland burst into motion, swinging out of their reach, leaping to grab the rope, and bounding aboard. Sophie felt the increased lift of the net dragging upward as his weight came off it, jerking her upward a foot, or even two.\n\nThe fright froze.\n\nLittle roots and suckers started running up and down the net, extending toward the hull—where they smoked heavily, even as they penetrated the boards.\n\nShe changed direction, crawling down toward the fright. The net was thickening up, its weight dragging it against the side of the ship as the fright kept growing.\n\nShe shifted, reaching down for a loose frill of net and flinging its edge around and down, catching the thing on the elbow. More tendrils grew, tangling the fright's arm.\n\nIts hand met the side of the hull with a snap and grew into the wood. It tore itself free with a splintering crack.\n\nNow Garland was leaping over the side, trailing a rope and rappelling down toward her.\n\n\"Sophie!\" He reached out, caught her hand, and swung her away from the net, running against the deck, supported by the rope.\n\n\"It didn't work, I take it? Whatever it was?\" she said.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThe fright had both hands pressed to the hull now, sticking like Spider-Man. Its pose put her in mind of a small lizard, an anole or chameleon. Humps of moss and little plant runners were spreading out from it, and when it crabbed closer, in single-minded pursuit of Sophie, it had to rip its hands free, sending a rain of wood chips down to the water. They sizzled when they hit.\n\nGarland said, \"They aren't going to let us dangle here for long.\"\n\nShe glanced east, past the Nightjar crew in their lifeboats. Sawtooth was almost in the game now, closing to cannon range.\n\n\"The fright'll stick to Hawkwasp's hull—let's rush her. A good push and she'll do some real damage when she busts free.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Ready?\"\n\nShe pressed her feet against the ship. \"Go!\"\n\nThey swung back, forward, then back again. The fright paused, evaluating, thoughtfully moving its hands and feet to avoid getting too tightly bound into the deck.\n\n\"She's so like me,\" Sophie said.\n\nGarland looked at the fright, coughed, and nodded.\n\nOh, teeth. She's naked. \"I meant she thinks like me.\"\n\n\"Oh. Yes. That follows.\"\n\nThey swung forward, and Garland got a hand on the fright's bicep, looping the line of rope around its arm and thereby binding them to her. Roots obligingly burst out of its elbow, entangling it, but it only had eyes for Sophie. It grabbed for her throat.\n\nSophie caught it with both hands, wrestling the wooden version of herself, trying to brace her feet against the roots growing outward from the thing's body as she worked to force its elbow against the outer hull of the ship.\n\nIt was much stronger than she was.\n\n\"Commit, commit,\" she grunted. \"Commit!\"\n\nThe elbow bounced off the hull, stuck, and made a small dent as the fright jerked free, once again reaching for Sophie's throat. Simultaneously, it kicked out at Garland, almost catching him in the hip. The roots in its other foot were making serious inroads on Hawkwasp's hull. Boards lumped and separated, like a sidewalk breaking under the onslaught of underground oak roots.\n\nHawkwasp was buckling, cracking. The fright would make a big hole, albeit one above the immolator's waterline.\n\nMaybe I can get past it and run inside, Sophie thought, finding the strength to heave, once, and drive the wooden elbow back against the dented hull. Lure it amidships and—\n\nAnd then everything changed.\n\nThe figure shocked in her grip, then turned into boards. These fell, silently, even as Sophie and Garland, disconnected from rope and the fright's tangle of roots, dropped off the side of the immolator.\n\nThe slick of amniotic by-products and detritus on the surface of the water swirled and disappeared, drawn down by a vortex of water. The net from Nightjar was suddenly pristine, no longer entangled with vine and flower.\n\nWood chips flew out of the ocean and reassembled themselves on the outer hull of the pirate ship. A splinter in Sophie's hand ripped itself free, likewise making for the hull, managing to hurt without leaving a mark on her skin.\n\n\"The hell?\" She felt sore, winded, as if someone had punched her in the diaphragm. Her nose was bleeding again.\n\n\"Reversion,\" Garland said. \"They tore up the inscription to keep the fright from damaging the ship too badly.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Sawtooth. She's almost in cannon range. Come, we have to get to Kev.\"\n\nThe lifeboat with Kev in it had been puttering along, getting steadily—if none too subtly—away from the scene of the fight. Now, though, it was dead in the water, adrift in a puddle of blood.\n\nThey swam hard to catch it, ducking up under the lifeboat. Kev was beneath, his hands still bound in white ribbon. His fingers, crabbed together, were wound into Selwig's collar, holding his head above water.\n\nThe Watch officer was gasping up little sprays of blood.\n\n\"Sophie, your light.\"\n\nSophie fumbled with the switch as Garland unbuttoned the young officer's coat. Crimson diffused into the seawater from two wounds in his abdomen: one in the left side, just under his ribs, the other a little lower down and closer to the center of his belly.\n\n\"He's hit his head,\" she said. Bruising was spreading from his left eye to his ear. \"Kev, what happened?\"\n\n\"There was an oddity,\" Kev gasped. Keeping Selwig afloat had exhausted him. \"Big, black, reptilian.\"\n\n\"Where's Daimon?\"\n\n\"Oddity bit him,\" he huffed. \"Dragged him down.\"\n\n\"Daimon's dead?\" She remembered the reptile oddity she had encountered on a previous dive. It had tried to twist her leg off.\n\n\"They wanted you?\" Garland demanded, in the same instant. He pressed a handful of white fabric to the higher of the two wounds.\n\n\"Neht,\" groaned Selwig, opening his eyes.\n\nDid that mean no? \"Daimon's not dead?\" Sophie asked. \"Or they didn't want Kev?\"\n\nOf course they wanted Kev. What else could they want?\n\nIn the lambent blue light cast by her LED lamp, Selwig looked gray-green. He fish-gasped a few times, letting out intermittent nonsense words—in Cardeshi, she assumed.\n\n\"Wait. Was that 'fingerprint'?\" she asked. \"Print who?\"\n\n\"Battoh,\" he rasped. \"Daimon gref sareen—latents, yeh battoh.\"\n\n\"Daimon? Is Daimon dead?\"\n\n\"Kev, Kev senna—\"\n\n\"Kev's fine,\" Sophie said. \"And Sawtooth's here. You can tell us everything once we get you to the infirmary.\"\n\nShe tried to ignore the look on Garland's face, the one that hinted that Selwig wasn't going to make it that far, even if a reptilian oddity didn't show up to Jaws them into snack food.\n\nThe big Watchman's voice dropped to a whisper. \"You should behead him now. For everyone's sake.\"\n\nSophie felt a rush of relief. If he was speaking Fleet again, maybe he wasn't so badly hurt. \"Come on,\" she said, trying to keep her tone light. \"If you believed that, why not let them take Kev?\"\n\n\"Same oath. As you.\" With that, Selwig's eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.\n\nGarland had been about to tear off one of his shirtsleeves to make a compress for the second stab wound, but now he pressed two fingers to Selwig's throat, checking his pulse. \"I'm sorry. He's died.\"\n\nI was responsible for him, Sophie thought. I taught him dactyloscopy and treated him badly and left him sleeping in the corridor outside Kev's cabin.\n\nAfter a minute, Kev asked, meekly, \"Did you sink the immolator?\"\n\n\"Sinking a ship is no small thing,\" Garland said, tone sharp. With his hair wet and slicked against his head, he had an uncharacteristically vulnerable appearance. He was treading water in an armored, focused way that spoke of great fatigue or pain.\n\nGrief. For Nightjar. Selwig dead and the ship sunk.\n\n\"Do you know our position?\" she said. \"I mean, do you know where the ship went down?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" If there was a spark of hope in Garland, she couldn't see it. He unfolded Selwig's massive hand, untangling the white spellscrip-marked ribbon from his grasp, and passed Sophie the makeshift leash.\n\n\"I'll check Sawtooth's position,\" he said, ducking under the boat, leaving them in suffocating silence with the corpse. He was only gone a minute. \"It's all right. The immolator is in retreat. His Honor's crew is picking up our lifeboats.\"\n\nThey swam clear of the wooden lifeboat and Sophie yanked the painter cord that triggered the inflatable raft Garland had packed. Two gas canisters triggered with a loud hiss, and Kev shrieked.\n\nPoor guy. His nerves must be shot. \"It's okay, Kev. It's just a balloon. You can climb in in a second.\"\n\nThey helped Kev into the inflatable first. Garland winced as he climbed in.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" she asked.\n\n\"Hawkwasp had magical countermeasures on her main deck,\" he said. \"My feet are burnt, through my boots. It's why I jumped so quickly.\"\n\n\"Oh, Garland. I'm so sorry. Is it bad?\" Her stash of antibiotics was... She wasn't sure what had happened to her things.\n\nIt was probably all underwater. Her cameras. Her clothes. Bram's equipment. The enormity of it hit her again. It wasn't just the ship, or even the stuff within. Nightjar had been home to two dozen people.\n\n\"There's Blue,\" Garland said. The ship's half-snake, half-ferret oddity floated past in a mixing bowl.\n\n\"Stay,\" she ordered, skinning off her tanks, handing over Kev's leash, and diving into the ocean. It felt good to save something.\n\nShe pushed the bowl back to the inflatable.\n\nGarland took the transformed ferret in his arms, stroking both of its heads at once.\n\nTreading water, Sophie took a look around. The wooden lifeboat was drifting away. She dove out again, towed it to the inflatable, and had Garland fix a line to it. Then the three of them wrestled Selwig's massive body onto the life raft.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was slow work; he was a blocky guy, and the sea seemed determined to suck him down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 104 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't think there's anything else to save,\" Garland said, offering her a hand into the boat.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nIt would be a while before Sawtooth rescued them. She turned her attention to the body.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Kev said.\n\n\"External exam.\" She had Selwig's left hand spread in front of her. There were three cuts: one that had cleft the pad of his middle finger, another in the web between thumb and index finger, and a third on the side, about where hand became wrist. \"Tell me about this lizard, Kev.\"\n\nA long pause as his mouth worked open and shut. \"Big. Black.\"\n\n\"Teeth?\"\n\nHe looked down at Selwig's hand. Swallowed. \"It had a knife.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Garland said.\n\nShe'd thought she might catch Kev in a lie there. She'd have to double check, but the cuts were, she was pretty sure, defensive wounds, more fitting a blade than a mouthful of teeth.\n\n\"Knife cuts,\" she said.\n\nGarland nodded, indicating the bloodied jacket, now shut but not rebuttoned, over Selwig's stab wounds. \"Those too, I think.\"\n\n\"He kept me behind him as he fought,\" Kev said before curling up like a kid, arms wrapped loosely around knees, in an apparent sulk.\n\nSame oath as you, Selwig had said.\n\nAn open boat was no place to perform an autopsy, even if she'd been qualified. She and Garland sat alongside the body, with Kev as far from them as he could get. They all waited in a silent funk of their own thoughts until Sawtooth came to haul them out of the water.\n\nLast time Sophie had been aboard her father's sailing vessel, it had been crewed by cadets—tenners and niners still learning to sail, some as young as fourteen. Now the people who came to load them aboard were adults—duelists, presumably—muscled, fit, and serious. They lashed the inflatable to the side of their wooden rescue craft and transferred Sophie, with Kev. She barely managed to grab her tanks in time.\n\nIt was perhaps two hours since Nightjar had sunk.\n\nThey came aboard without fanfare, brought up on deck, where the rest of the crew, and the canola crow, Uhura, were waiting.\n\nShe turned a slow circle, switching Kev's ribbon from hand to hand as she looked around the deck. Where was Cly?\n\nThey had been running flat out for sixteen hours, maybe more, scrambling first to save the ship and then to scuttle her. Sending messages, moving loads...\n\n... Getting Bram back to civilization. Losing Selwig. And...\n\nShe looked, without much hope, in case Daimon had been found, brought aboard.\n\nNo. So much for avoiding misfortune.\n\nBeatrice only protected me against casual misfortune.\n\nThis was usually the point where she started bawling, wasn't it? She didn't feel like crying. She felt burned and tired, shakily furious at Kev and, most of all, terribly in the wrong. Tainted.\n\nShe was a calamity. A charming, magically prettified calamity who destroyed everything in her path.\n\n\"No sign of Daimon?\" Garland said. He was perched on a deck stool, sliding off his burned boots under Watts's eye. The bottoms of his wool socks were stained with red and wet with fluid, presumably from broken blisters.\n\nBehind him, Krispos had already found himself a book and was turning its pages as he shivered in a blanket. He had his body half turned, avoiding the sight of three Sawtooth deckhands as they hefted Selwig aboard, wrapped in a bloody shroud.\n\n\"Hawkwasp is making herself scarce, I see.\"\n\nCly's voice made her startle. He'd come right up behind Kev.\n\nGarland would have stood, if Watts hadn't right then all but grabbed his foot.\n\n\"Your Honor. We're in your debt.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Cly agreed. He was looking at Sophie.\n\nOkay, what do you do now? She pulled herself upright and saw him take in her wetsuit with a frown. \"Cly,\" she said.\n\n\"The proper form of address in these cases would be 'Father.'\"\n\nGreat. He's determined to make this difficult. \"Propriety's not my strong suit.\"\n\n\"True. Quarters, what are you doing? Help Captain Garland and the other wounded down to the infirmary.\"\n\nThere was a flurry of activity as Watts established his credentials and directed the sailors, who transferred Garland into an improvised sling made of sail.\n\nSophie used the time to try to pull herself together. She'd messed up, before, by failing to fully listen to Cly. By attending to the wrong things. The whole of Nightjar's crew could be in trouble if she dropped her guard now.\n\nCalamity, she thought again. She tightened her grip on the ribbon—the symbolic leash—that bound Kev's hands.\n\nCly was waiting, patiently, no doubt reading every flicker of emotion on her too-open face.\n\nStart with gratitude. \"We appreciate the assistance.\"\n\n\"Do you?\" He broke into a smile. \"You'll have an opportunity to enjoy our hospitality. Where are you bound?\"\n\n\"Sylvanna,\" she said. \"As you know.\"\n\nHe affected mock surprise. \"I've not been made privy to your plans, child. Unless some letter of yours has gone astray—\"\n\n\"Don't call me child.\" She didn't have energy for cat and mouse right now.\n\n\"I think having our relationship on a traditional parent-child footing for a time might be for the best,\" he said. \"All the customs and proprieties. Speaking of which...\" He turned, taking a close look at Kev, who scooched back to the rail. \"I'll be taking custody of—\"\n\n\"Oh, you will not! He's...\" She shuddered and made herself say it: \"Mine.\"\n\n\"This is a Sylvanner ship, Sophie, and you are a dependent minor of Sylvanna, Sophie. Our law is clear.\"\n\n\"I'm not a dependent anything,\" she snapped. \"I'm...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\nDaimon the fake fiancé was gone. Dragged under by the knife-wielding monster, Kev had said. She'd gotten him killed, just like Selwig. And Bram had liked him.\n\n\"Yes?\" Cly repeated. He had Kev's symbolic leash between two of his fingers. His expression was thoroughly predatory.\n\nShe didn't owe Kev anything. He'd gone into terrorism on his own. He was hiding something.\n\nBehead him now, Selwig had said.\n\n\"It's all right,\" Kev said. \"You did the best you could. There was never any—\"\n\nTo stall, she said to Cly, \"You wanted this all along, didn't you? You engineered this situation so you could maneuver Kev back to Low Bann, I guess, and compel him to tell you all his secrets...\"\n\n\"You are what, daughter?\" He tugged the ribbon—a light tug, like someone teasing a cat.\n\nCan't free Kev without a fiancé handy. Two engaged kids make one adult. Nothing else I can do, just have to hope. Can I claim the pirates have Daimon, but we're still...\n\n\"Engaged,\" she said. \"I'm engaged.\"\n\n\"Indeed? Congratulations. To whom, pray?\"\n\nShe swallowed. \"To Captain Parrish.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue with A. M. Dellamonica's style in the fantasy, pirates genre. This is part of a longer work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "SOFE,", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "MADE IT HOME. SWINGING BY THE PARENTS' HOUSE TO CHECK SECURITY CAMERAS, SEE HOW IT'S GOING WITH THE NEW PUPPY, AND ATTEMPT HOME PROTECTION INSCRIPTION.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Add this exact quote somewhere appropriate: \"Cap'n just lost his ship. Kir Sophie would be a definite comfort.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THEN VERENA AND I ARE MEETING THIS VERDANII COP/SPY/WHATEVER, FEDONA. LET ME KNOW YOU'RE NOT DEAD OR I'M COMING RIGHT BACK. CAN'T BELIEVE I LEFT YOU ON A SINKING SHIP. WHAT WAS I THINKING? WORRIED.\n\nBRAM\n\nSophie was saved from an immediate, awkward interrogation when Sweet interposed herself between them. \"Actually, Your Honor, our doctor has asked for Sophie to join Parrish in the infirmary.\"\n\n\"The man's a little scorched. He hardly requires a bedside vigil.\"\n\n\"We're sentimental aboard Nightjar,\" the bosun insisted. \"Cap'n just lost his ship. Kir Sophie would be a definite comfort.\"\n\nA narrowing of eyes, and then Cly conceded the point. \"Let's all go, shall we?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not all,\" Sophie said, gesturing madly at Krispos and handing over the white ribbon, along with temporary responsibility for Kev. \"Don't let anyone... you know... clap him in irons.\"\n\nThe memorician gave her a pat that was probably meant to be reassuring.\n\n\"Coming, child?\"\n\nShe swallowed. Why had she lied? What if Garland didn't play along?\n\n\"Sophie?\"\n\n\"Coming.\" She had been aboard Sawtooth before. Now, with Cly right behind her, she headed down to the infirmary, following the same route through the ship that she'd taken just after she rescued Kev, so many months earlier. The infirmary was a cramped box, three beds and little in the way of floor space. The air was dense with a nostril-tingling mixture of herbs and poultices. An extraordinary array of interlocking boxes was fixed to the walls, repository for remedies for everything from infectious cuts to whooping cough.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly's doctor managed to give her a bow as he looked over Garland's feet, clucking. The socks were off; his soles were raw and seeping.\n\n\"How bad is it?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Superficial,\" Watts said. \"Looks worse than it is.\"\n\n\"No magic required,\" the ship's doctor agreed. He began spreading a yellowish goo that looked like mustard over the blisters.\n\n\"We're making more fuss than is required, I'm sure,\" Garland said. His voice was distant. He was almost certainly feeling the loss of Nightjar more keenly than anything that was happening to his body.\n\nSophie hunched next to him, on a low stool, guilt cascading from of every pore, wondering if she dared look him in the face.\n\n\"Will Sawtooth go after Hawkwasp?\" she asked, trying to buy time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'congratulations'", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How could she tell Garland what was up?\n\nGarland shook his head. \"We're on course for Sylvanna, I believe. Your Honor?\"\n\n\"Indeed we are,\" Cly said. \"Sophie needs a new name, and quickly.\"\n\nOne of his aides had turned up, carrying a folded bundle of clothes that Sophie recognized as a sports suit for women—the Sylvanner equivalent of jeans and a shirt.\n\nCly continued, \"My captain, Beck, has messaged the South Sylvan navy. They'll catch your immolator, if they can.\"\n\nGarland nodded.\n\n\"I suppose congratulations are in order,\" Cly added.\n\n\"Congratulations?\" Garland said.\n\n\"I told him we're engaged!\" Sophie blurted, in a completely upbeat, perky, not-at-all-a-calamity voice.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Teeth, I sound like I'm on a reality show.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had picked the one person on Stormwrack who was crappier at lying than she was.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Garland held her gaze for what seemed like twenty years.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(( Word usage requirement: 'wetsuit' must appear 2 times ))", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her face heated—her whole body heated, the embarrassment so intense that she might have dried off through her wetsuit.\n\nFinally, Garland inclined his head in an approximation of the Fleet bow. \"Your Honor. This wasn't quite how I imagined... But. We would be grateful for your blessing.\"\n\n\"Seas! You're asking his permission?\"\n\n\"I should be glad you chose someone who'll take the trouble to be polite, given your significant deficits in this area,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Thanks very much, Cly.\" She was weak with relief.\n\n\"Sadly, I must decline to approve of your choice.\" Cly held the clothing out. \"Would you kindly go change? That... thing... is indecent.\" He gestured at her wetsuit, and then a hatch.\n\n\"You should've seen the wood fright,\" she muttered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But what the hell.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The room was a broom closet for medical stuff.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd be able to hear them.\n\nOf course, Cly knew that. He said something in a low voice to Garland in... was it Sylvanner? Did Garland speak Sylvanner?\n\nNo, she decided, as Garland replied in kind. It's Verdanii. Of course Cly speaks Verdanii; he married one. Why couldn't I end up in Narnia? Or some other nice, Eurocentric world where even the animals speak English?\n\nShe wriggled out of the wetsuit, fumbling for something she could use as a towel, and slid into the sports jacket, fighting to get it over her damp skin.\n\nDottar. Garland had said \"daughter.\"\n\n\"Done,\" she said, bursting out on them, but whatever sneaky agreement they'd been coming to, it seemed to be done.\n\nI'm just gonna ask him what you wanted as soon as your back is turned.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Cly said, \"We ought to leave Captain Parrish to recover, Sophie.\"\n\nIt was all sort of equally unbearable. She swept around Cly, back to the empty spot beside Garland, and took his hand, bending close. \"Can I come back later?\"\n\n\"Come in the morning,\" he said.\n\nA pang of hurt. But I deserve it. I do.\n\nHe surprised her then with a quick kiss. \"Good night.\"\n\nCly ushered her into the corridor. \"He certainly acts as though he means to marry you.\"\n\n\"He's not the one with commitment issues,\" Sophie said. \"Where am I staying?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As before,\" he said, leading her to the same cabin she'd occupied on her earlier visit. To his evident surprise, Kev and Krispos were within, sitting across from each other, one on the bunk and the other at the small desk. The yellow bird, Uhura, was pecking at a bowl of seeds between them. Rounding out the crowd was a Sawtooth fiver, big of muscle and of scowl, who was obviously there to protect Krispos from Kev's murderous machinations.\n\nWhich was almost as laughable as the fact that her tottery, fragile assistant was keeping himself positioned, ever so protectively, between the soldier and Kev himself.\n\n\"Renly, move Kir Sophie's memorician into the berth next door,\" Cly said. \"And take the—\"\n\n\"Prisoner,\" Sophie said. \"And if you're about to say 'Lock him in the brig'—\"\n\n\"Lock him in the brig, indeed. But Renly, see that everyone knows he's Kir Sophie's property and she means him to be treated with excessive gentility. Three square meals and a kind word whenever he wants it.\"\n\n\"It's all right, Kir Sophie,\" Kev said in his best Eeyore voice. The sangfroid he had displayed through most of their voyage was utterly gone. He was wide-eyed with shock; the skin under his eyes was blue.\n\n\"I'll come check on you later, okay?\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kev nodded.\n\n\"I'll see him properly settled,\" Krispos offered. They trooped out, leaving a second sports suit and a bulky-looking gift-wrapped box behind them on the bunk.\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"An index of moth wing diagrams,\" Cly said. \"I had ordered it before we...\"\n\nBickered? Fought? Imploded? \"Before we disagreed?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Your laboratory is across the hall. I left the space untouched.\"\n\n\"Can I get the lifeboat, the wooden one, sent there? It's Institute business.\"\n\n\"I doubt there's room, unless we cut it into pieces. Can you examine it on deck?\"\n\n\"Sure, if it can go under a tarp or something...\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Easily. Now then, we'll bestow an additional name on you as soon as we reach Hoarfrost.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She nodded. Part of her wanted to reject his help, even now. Taking anything from Cly—especially something as personal as a name—seemed wrong.\n\nBut if I'd done it a month ago, Nightjar would still be afloat. Daimon and Selwig would be alive.\n\nWould they? The immolator had presumably been out there, hunting them, all along. Hunting Kev.\n\nShe sat on her bunk, at a loss for words.\n\n\"It will come out all right, child,\" Cly said, closing the hatch as he left, leaving her to dissolve into tears.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Mode: Collab writing\nContext: May reference existing characters/world\nAmount: one hundred and thirty-two sentences\nVoice: A. M. Dellamonica", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Mensalohm:\n\nI am writing today with bad news. Your clerk, Daimon Tern of Tiladene, was killed yesterday in a battle... skirmish... scrap...\n\n\"I have no idea how to do this,\" Sophie said.\n\nShe was in the infirmary with Garland, who was drafting letters of reference for Nightjar's six newest crew members. They were leaving his employ, seeking berths elsewhere.\n\nGarland glanced at her page. \"The usual form is to say 'altercation with a ship meaning to sink Nightjar.'\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n... killed yesterday in an altercation with a ship meaning to sink Nightjar. Daimon was a great guy... nice... a smart and pleasant man who was popular with our crew. He took up the study of fingerprinting when he was with us, and seemed to enjoy it. He was kind to Kev Lidman, the man we've been trying to help...\n\nGarland nudged her, then handed over a handkerchief.\n\nShe wiped her streaming eyes. \"I suck at this.\"\n\n\"It's an area where it's hard to excel. Just don't mention that he wasn't studying very hard for his exams. Did he sleep with Bram?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Tiladenes value sexual prowess. If the two of them formed a connection, Mensalohm might like to pass that along to his parents.\"\n\n\"Um...\" She wrote:\n\nAt the time that we were attacked, I think he'd been having a very satisfying fling with someone on board.\n\n\"Excellent,\" Garland said approvingly.\n\nMensalohm, I am so, so sorry this happened. We are all saddened by his death. Can you send me his family contact information, so I can write to them, too?\n\nShe set the draft aside. \"I'll rewrite it after I do Selwig's letter. And I have to tell Bram about Daimon, too. I guess that'll give Tonio another shot.\"\n\nGarland bit down on a chuckle. \"I'm not sure that's funny.\"\n\n\"None of this is funny,\" she said. \"What are you up to?\"\n\n\"Sweet and Watts have asked to remain aboard Sawtooth, with the cat, until the spring. They'll take the opportunity to train up—she's a much bigger vessel, and His Honor's doctor is a combat physician. I am writing Captain Lena Beck to document the loan of personnel.\"\n\n\"They'll come back to Nightjar when we raise it?\"\n\nHis jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded. \"Tonio and the rest I'm sending to Erinth, to see if we can hire a ship from the Conto's merchant fleet. Our cook intends to sail home until I reestablish myself.\"\n\nSomeone rapped on the door. \"Coming into port, Kirs.\"\n\nShe left Garland, climbing up to the quarterdeck as they came into dock in the Winter District.\n\nNightjar's initial course would have brought them into the city of Autumn. But, in their flight from the immolator, they'd caught a fast wind around the tip of Haversham, Sylvanna's closest neighbor and bitter enemy. Cly had opted to take them around Haversham and into the nation's capital.\n\nHer birth father's nation was divided into four administrative districts—provinces, essentially—each named for a season. Sophie had seen the Autumn capital and Cly's estate there.\n\nThe city of Hoarfrost was not the winter wonderland its name implied. Autumn had been decorated in red leaves and harvest motifs; it looked a bit as though it had rolled wholesale off some set designer's drafting table. Hoarfrost was older and looked more like a city that had grown normally, in bits and pieces, over centuries.\n\nIts predominant color was the blue-green of spruce needles; the wood, along with slate and blue marble, was the primary building material of its biggest structures. The buildings were stark, windburned. There was little adornment of any kind.\n\nSylvanna lay at about thirty-six degrees north, as it would have been reckoned on Earth, near Tennessee. Sophie hadn't expected much in the way of winter cold. But this side of the island was more much mountainous than the swampland on its eastern shore. Hoarfrost's port was at sea level, but much of the city climbed up into higher elevations.\n\nWith the winter solstice about a week away, it was cool enough that people were wearing wool coats and even, in a few cases, fur stoles. Many of the coats were colored like blue spruce too, and all of them were tailored to leave space for the identity blazers worn by everyone—beauty-queen sashes covered in brooches that spelled out the social pecking order in incredible detail. Landholder, Fleet personnel, single, married, professional, clerk, private employee, civil servant... A glance at someone's chest took all the guesswork out of social interaction.\n\nCly wafted up beside her. \"I've taken rooms at a hotel called the Mancellor, in the city. There will be room for the two of us, Parrish, and your memorician.\"\n\nSophie had other plans for Krispos, but first she wanted to discuss them with him. \"What kind of hotel?\"\n\n\"It caters to foreigners from the starboard side.\" He held out a small wrapped parcel. Cly seemed constitutionally unable to keep from giving her gifts.\n\n\"Does that mean the staff are paid employees?\"\n\n\"I remember well the hunger strike you threw to protest the labor practices on Low Bann.\" That was a dare: Go ahead; upbraid me about slavery. \"There's room for Bram and Verena, should they turn up.\"\n\n\"What about Kev?\"\n\n\"There's a secure lockup at the Institute.\"\n\n\"Oh no. I don't want him jailed where I can't protect him.\"\n\nHe conceded so quickly, she thought perhaps he had expected the objection. \"You'll need rooms at a second hotel, in that case. One that will accommodate your slave.\"\n\n\"Prisoner.\"\n\n\"There's a place directly beside the Mancellor. I'll get you a room. What are those papers?\"\n\nShe showed him the drafts of the letters—to Mensalohm, about Daimon; to the Watch commander and Humbrey, about Selwig.\n\n\"Condolence letters are a bane. I'm very sorry you've had to... Well, may I make some suggestions?\"\n\nShe nodded gratefully and he jotted a few notes.\n\nOnce they were docked, Cly sent Kev ahead, under guard, with instructions: \"Check him in with the staff manager at the Black Fox Inn, and book Kir Sophie a room. Then confirm our family suite at the Mancellor.\"\n\n\"I'll come see you as soon as I can, Kev,\" Sophie said.\n\nHe nodded, expression locked, breathing slowly and steadily in a way that made her think of Selwig, when he was coaching him through that earlier panic attack.\n\nPoor Selwig.\n\nThey spent an hour in thank-yous, farewells, and good-byes with the Nightjar and Sawtooth crews before Cly ushered her to an empty carriage hung with Fleet and judiciary flags.\n\nShe scanned the dock. \"Where's Garland?\"\n\n\"Sending dispatches. He'll meet us at the Mancellor as soon as he's disposed of his crew and been to the clarionhouse,\" Cly said, climbing in across from her.\n\nThe ride to the hotel was oppressively quiet. She looked out the windows, searching for new wildlife species and feeling the loss of her camera like a missing limb. When the urban development got dense enough to make nature studies impossible, she opened the latest gift box. It contained a supply of messageply.\n\nHer breath caught. It was a costly gift.\n\nHe was watching her over his case file.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said.\n\n\"Practical gifts show thin affection, we say here. I'd rather traffic in luxuries. But you need it. Ah!\" They wheeled into a long carriageway, circling a grand lawn and ending up in front of four majestic columns. Uniformed porters trotted out; a moment later, Sophie felt the weight of the carriage shift as their bags—Cly's luggage, mostly, as she'd been reduced to a mere handful of things—were unloaded.\n\nShe followed her birth father upstairs.\n\nCly's idea of a cozy family suite was typically palatial. A young man was busily engaged in the dining room, laying out cold meats and fruit for a self-serve lunch. Beyond him, she spied what looked suspiciously like a real bathroom.\n\n\"Does that have running water?\"\n\n\"Of course, Kir. Cold and hot,\" the young man said.\n\n\"Sold!\" She all but ran inside, taking advantage of the shower to freshen up—and to get a little distance from Cly.\n\nOnce she was clean, dry, and again dressed in the sport suit, she shook away the urge to hide. \"Bull by the horns, face the music, run into the guns... whatever it is they say in these situations,\" she muttered to a steam-hazed mirror reflection that reminded her a little of the wood fright.\n\nEmerging, she found her birth father in a small parlor, ramrod-straight in a chair and thumbing through a thick hardcover with an unreadable title. He had a small contraption arranged between his right hand and the reading table and was pressing it up and down in a complicated series of slow motions. The device offered resistance, stretching one finger after another and kneading the muscles of his hand. Some kind of physiotherapy gadget, Sophie deduced.\n\nHe switched it to the other hand. \"Feeling refreshed?\"\n\nSophie nodded, casting about for a neutral topic. \"This place must have ten bedrooms.\"\n\n\"I will be obliged to invite my awful cousin Fenn and her family,\" he said.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nHe glimmered at her.\n\n\"For the wedding, I imagine.\" Garland appeared at the door, back on his feet, trailing a porter clutching an anemic-looking carpet bag.\n\nSophie blushed and discovered a sudden need to serve herself a plate of peaches. \"Are your feet all right?\"\n\n\"Scorched,\" he said. \"Sore.\"\n\n\"Get off them, Parrish,\" Cly said. \"As for my family, I doubt the Fenns will come to your bonding, but social niceties require that I'm waiting with open arms.\"\n\nOf course. Cly would march them right up to the altar—assuming there was an altar—just for the pleasure of seeing her admit the engagement had been a bluff.\n\nShe had to get Kev freed and get them out of here.\n\nShe looked across the table at Garland. He gave the porter a coin, closing the door behind him. Then he walked—his gait was off, almost mincing—to the lunch table and sat. Helping himself to a slice of smoked fish, he ate with every appearance of serenity. Was he angry about this situation? There was no sign.\n\n\"We have a good deal to accomplish in a short space of days,\" Cly said. \"Your renaming—\"\n\n\"Kev's too,\" she said.\n\nCly looked surprised.\n\n\"I need to talk to some spellscribes,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(In the next section: Next turn only: maintain roughly 44% quote-to-text ratio)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beatrice cast a whole bunch of spells on me at birth, and she doesn't even know what one of them does.\"\n\n\"Sophie is already into the pain,\" Garland added.\n\n\"Damn Beatrice and her impulsive heart,\" Cly said, sliding his physiotherapy gadget into a velvet bag. \"It's a full day's work, then. Will you dine?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"We'll leave once you've eaten, Parrish.\"\n\n\"First things first. I have to go bully Kev,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"I'll enjoy witnessing that,\" Cly said.\n\n\"You're not invited.\"\n\n\"You don't know where he is,\" Cly said, bowing and opening the door for her.\n\n\"You won't tell me?\"\n\nHe made for the stairwell. \"Washing dishes in the hotel across the yard.\"\n\n\"At... you said the Black Fox?\"\n\n\"This, the Mancellor, is a hotel for foreigners and abolitionists. It excludes the bonded and derives no benefit from free labor,\" he said. \"You're not permitted to keep Lidman at the Mancellor, so you also have rooms, and quarters for your property, across the courtyard.\"\n\nIt was a short walk around a keyhole-shaped courtyard, but Sophie was brought up short by the sign, which had a black fox and a familiar-looking symbol—the paw print from her mystery scroll.\n\n\"Is that a fox paw?\" she said, trying to be casual.\n\n\"Black foxes,\" he said. \"Unusual creatures. The mothers will sometimes feed or even suckle an orphaned raccoon or, more commonly, a weasel. The creature thus sheltered becomes a member of their family group. Raccoons, you know—those hands.\"\n\n\"They take slaves,\" she said, her mind chasing this in four directions at once.\n\nCly shrugged and continued toward the hotel.\n\nThey found Kev scrubbing floors under the supervision of a female staffer who seemed to be specifically designated as a sort of domestic overseer. Seeing Sophie, Kev stood and attempted a brave smile. \"It's not so bad, Kir.\"\n\nThere was something in his attitude, a shift, that brought the hairs up on her arms. He'd been afraid, before she took custody of him—desperate to avoid execution. Aboard Nightjar, when he'd believed his pals would free him, he'd seemed relaxed, almost happy. When she told him they'd been ringers, he'd freaked out.\n\nNow... what was this?\n\n\"You said a big lizard man attacked you, Kev, when you were all hiding under the lifeboat?\"\n\n\"It had a blade,\" he said. \"It pulled Daimon away, down—fast. Then it came for me, but Selwig... Selwig wouldn't let it.\"\n\n\"Tell me about the blade.\"\n\n\"Metal. Silver in color, or near it.\" He shuddered. \"Horribly sharp. Like nothing I've seen.\"\n\nShe changed direction, watching him closely. \"I'm filing papers or whatever to rename you today.\" Here we are, stuck between the train and Superman, she thought. \"You want to suggest a new name, you better do it now.\"\n\n\"What was it you suggested? Bambi McThumper? It doesn't matter.\"\n\n\"I've got to have you pacified,\" she said. \"It's the only way to legally release you.\"\n\n\"It's all right.\" The desperation she'd seen before seemed to be gone. \"I don't want to hurt...\"\n\n\"Kev?\"\n\n\"Hurt anyone. Anyone else, Selwig would have said.\"\n\nA definite note of guilt there, and one she did believe. But he was hiding something, too...\n\nShe rocked back on her heels, taking him in. There was little to see. In his smock and the horrible pewter-colored bangle that marked him as property, her property, he was stripped of all context.\n\nWhat did she know? He'd come from Haversham, Sylvanna's big rival, but had gone to study on Tug Island. He'd been the magical equivalent of a child psychologist, someone who'd written spells to amend the behavior of disturbed kids.\n\nHe and his buddies had forced some of his patients to find and destroy shackling scrolls, and then helped the slaves thus freed.\n\nHe'd put to sea in that ship, Incannis, that made salt frights. He'd done it for friendship as much as idealism.\n\nHe wasn't a fighter by nature.\n\nStress made him hungry.\n\nHer scrutiny was making him nervous.\n\n\"It's fatalism,\" she said. \"Suddenly it's like you don't want to live. You could've stayed in Fleet and gotten beheaded, if that was where this was going to take you.\"\n\n\"I thought my friends would rescue me, remember?\"\n\n\"Yeah, and they were the bad guys. Sucks to be you. My offer still stands. I'll pacify you so I can free you. And if I can protect you, I will.\"\n\n\"And in exchange?\"\n\n\"The truth would be nice. Do you have info they want? Or did they have some other reason for grabbing you?\"\n\nHe fiddled with the scrub brush. \"My friend Eame, he knew things. Knew people. I don't know where Nysa is or anyone who does, and nobody's coming for me. You say Pree and Smitt were spies for Isle of Gold, looking to destroy us. Well, we're destroyed now. All dead.\"\n\n\"Why did Selwig tell us to behead you?\"\n\n\"I'd got him killed—reason enough.\"\n\nLiar, she thought. \"Clearly, they still want something. Why won't you let me help you?\"\n\n\"Mistress, nobody can.\"\n\n\"Incannis got caught. The attempt to sink Constitution failed. What's next?\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"Fine. Tell me about Pree and Smitt.\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"I could make you.\"\n\nHe looked her up and down. \"You won't, Kir. You haven't got it in you to subjugate a man, however depraved you may think him.\"\n\n\"No,\" Cly's voice made them both jump. \"Sophie is a generous and uncommonly forgiving individual.\" Kev began to bow, but Cly caught him under the chin, just with a finger. \"The bonded don't bow.\"\n\nKev straightened. His eyes fell on Cly's sword.\n\n\"As long as Sophie is here on Sylvanna, she will obey the law to the letter,\" Cly said. \"Perhaps reluctantly, perhaps in a fury.\"\n\n\"Cly, don't terrorize him.\"\n\nHe ignored her. \"You've endangered her twice. It would please me to wring every drop of blood that she shed when they inscribed her, every drop, slave, from your still-beating heart.\"\n\n\"Cly.\"\n\n\"Whatever scheme she hopes to engage in on your behalf, to salve her conscience, it depends on her not putting a foot out of place. If she does misstep—when—I shall swoop in, accuse her of fraud, and assume custody of you.\"\n\nThere was that assumption again, that she'd break the law or that damned oath the first chance she got.\n\n\"Your Honor, I beg—\"\n\n\"The law requires Sophie to register you,\" Cly said, in a pleasant tone. \"I'm taking her to the office now, where she will do precisely that. You will be licensed and, apparently, pacified.\"\n\n\"And then?\"\n\n\"Then you may enjoy her gentle semblance of ownership for as long as it takes me to find a legal pretext for wresting custody of you from her unwilling grip.\" He gave Kev a smile that would have frozen the sun. \"Unless, perhaps, you'd like to give us the particulars of your colleagues' scheme against Sylvanna?\"\n\nKev was visibly terrified. Yet, with an effort, he shook his head.\n\n\"So be it.\" With that, Cly summoned the hotel supervisor to once again take charge of Kev, before escorting Sophie back through the opulent lobby of the Black Fox and into the courtyard. The paving stones had been heavily salted against ice, creating a pocked expanse of stone, salt, and meltwater.\n\n\"You're right about him. I have seen men with that same look,\" he remarked. \"They believe they will die, that there's no way out.\"\n\n\"Where to now?\" she asked.\n\n\"Over there...\" A carriage draped in Fleet and judiciary livery was waiting for them. Its driver was a cheery-looking woman, ample-bottomed and dressed in a sports jacket and top hat. The horses were bays, tall geldings whose manes had been artificially dyed with a single streak of spruce blue.\n\nGarland was waiting in the carriage.\n\nSophie looked at Cly in surprise.\n\n\"Two affianced make one adult, remember? Your betrothed must also sign Lidman's various papers.\"\n\nOh, crap. Now I've really gotten Garland into slave ownership.\n\nThey rode in suffocating silence through the blue marble streets.\n\nThere's no getting out of this, Sophie told herself. I don't do the paperwork, Cly will just take over. Kev's a convicted criminal, and he chose this sentence. It's just a prisoner transfer... just a transfer.\n\nWhat does Garland think of all this, of me?\n\nThe carriage paused at the edge of the city, waiting on a uniformed gatekeeper, who opened ornately carved wooden panels that hid the entrance to a hundred-foot archway of stone. Within, Sophie saw an enormous cylindrical compound, cut like a giant core sample from the stone of the mountain. Its rim was limned in icicles, huge stalactites that dripped water down the edges of the cylinder and fed a series of lakes and streams about five hundred feet below.\n\nBuildings rose from the ground, some of them more than a dozen stories high. Clad in blue-white wood—more spruce, she assumed—they tapered to points at the top, like icicles.\n\n\"This is the heart of the Winter capital, Hoarfrost,\" Cly said.\n\n\"And, I'm guessing, the Spellscrip Institute?\" Sophie asked.\n\nCly nodded.\n\nTheir driver left them near the top, at a walkway that yawned over the chasm, connecting the outer rim of the cut-stone cylinder to the tallest of the buildings. An ordinary-enough elevator carried them down and Cly led them into the compound, threading his way over bridges and paths to a comparatively nondescript building—the bondage registry.\n\nEven at home, the registry's decor would have screamed government office—blue spruce shakes on its walls, plain waiting room within. As was his way, Cly sashayed past twenty or so Sylvanners waiting to transact their business and demanded an immediate audience with a registration clerk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He got it, too.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Within a minute they were in a private office, with a bureaucrat at their beck and call.\n\n\"It is traditional to name convicts after their victims,\" Cly said, proffering a page.\n\nSophie took the pen and wrote KEV EAME LIDMAN.\n\nThe clerk whipped through the rest of the document. Then, to her surprise, he slid an entirely different page under her nose.\n\n\"The Spellscrip Institute would like to purchase the aforementioned bonded individual.\"\n\nIt was another big number; she was familiar enough with the Sylvanner currency, the akro, that she didn't have to ask anyone to confirm it. She pushed it away with a shake of her head and a smile that she hoped was polite.\n\nThe clerk did not react. \"Will you scrip him fully compliant?\"\n\n\"Fully what? Like, my every wish is his command?\"\n\n\"He has been withholding information from you,\" Cly pointed out.\n\n\"Forget it,\" she said. \"Except for the violence thing, we're leaving him with free will.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" the clerk said. \"A pacification spell?\"\n\nShe looked to Garland and spoke in English. \"Can you see any other way?\"\n\nIf he minded being rude by excluding Cly, it didn't show. \"He gave permission, did he not?\"\n\n\"Twice.\"\n\n\"If he is incapable of provoking violence, it might actually make him safer. A landholder might attack him here, then claim he started the fight.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\n\"Sophie, we are responsible for him,\" he said. \"He may yet hurt someone. There's a chance he killed Daimon and Selwig. There's no legal possibility of release if he's not rendered harmless, and whether he's an idealist or not, Kev's predicament is of his own making. You and I cannot continue in perpetual ownership over a murderer.\"\n\n\"Agreed.\" She nodded at the clerk. \"Okay, do it.\"\n\nOnce the notes were made for that, she asked, \"Is there a form to fill out for freeing someone?\"\n\nThe clerk looked as though he was prepared for this, and handed over a big envelope. She glanced inside: six pages of dense handwriting in Sylvanner.\n\n\"Is there a version written in Fleet?\"\n\n\"No,\" Cly purred.\n\n\"I don't suppose you're going to help translate.\"\n\n\"Would you trust me to steer you aright?\"\n\n\"I might.\"\n\n\"It would please me to think so, daughter.\"\n\nMore games. Annoyed, she pocketed the pages.\n\nCly gave the hotel address to the clerk, demanded a big carved key of blue-tinged stonewood, and led them out across another walkway, through a tunnel to the surface of the mountain. He unlocked a gate, using the key, and led them into a gated park.\n\n\"There's a bit of a walk here, Captain,\" he said. \"How are your feet?\"\n\n\"The medics' salves are effective, Your Honor,\" Garland said. \"I can walk on flat terrain without much discomfort.\"\n\nCly's estate on the southeast coast of Sylvanna had been a mixture of orchard and swamp: lowlands, apiaries, peaches, crocodiles, and a particularly toxic species of leech. Here, the microclimate was alpine forest: drier, with abundant evergreen trees, hardy stock adapted to lower temperatures and a bit of altitude.\n\nAt home, these would be the Great Smoky Mountains, Sophie thought. There should be lungless salamanders in these forests... But no; the air seemed too dry.\n\nThe trees were busy as a preschool. She saw young adult owls in a number of the trees, sleeping off the night's hunt while lazily watching the forest floor for rodents. Songbirds squabbled in the understory.\n\nThey passed the picked-over carcass of an elk and a limestone stalagmite that had been embedded just off the path, in the shade of a pair of spruce. It was covered in sluggish blue butterflies. Sophie reached automatically for her camera, remembered it had sunk with Nightjar, and felt a stab of grief.\n\nThe butterflies were dying. The spruce above were dotted with eggs, and the butterflies, their laying finished, were waiting for the cold to finish them off. A woven basket below hinted at the purpose for the stalagmite that had lured them—the Spellscrip Institute was collecting the bodies.\n\nFarther up the trail was another collector of sorts: a massive wooden platform, towering skyward.\n\n\"Bat roost?\" Garland asked.\n\n\"They migrate,\" Cly confirmed. \"And pause here. Some few are too weak to continue the journey. Those, we capture and tame.\"\n\nOne of Sylvanna's major industries was writing and discovering spells... and, when they could, acquiring species that weren't quite native to their microclimate.\n\n\"We're being sued over the platforms,\" Cly said. \"The people of Murdocco say the bats wouldn't pause here if they weren't encouraged. They'd have us tear the platforms down and pretend the bats aren't perfectly capable of roosting in the trees and caves.\"\n\nSophie didn't take the bait. It might be possible to prove whether the bats were or weren't behaving naturally, but she wasn't going to get involved in another Sylvanner lawsuit.\n\n\"Captain, the ground becomes difficult here, but there's a bench ahead,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Thank you, Your Honor.\"\n\nThe trail forked back on itself, revealing the base of a cut-stone staircase so steep it would have daunted Frodo and Sam. A wrought-iron bench was set in place to offer a view of the core-sample layout of the Institute, with its icicle-shaped buildings.\n\n\"Parrish?\" Cly gestured to the bench.\n\nGarland sat without arguing.\n\n\"Cly, why are we here?\"\n\n\"For the renaming.\"\n\nShe had assumed that would require another government office.\n\nHe produced a wrinkled page. \"Some old family names.\"\n\nShe scanned it. \"Eugenia. Pels. Kalotte, Merina, Stayz, Clyonna, Ammonna, Harlot—Harlot?\"\n\n\"It means 'nurturer.' Why?\"\n\n\"No reason. Do I have to choose one of these?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Of course not. Choose anything you like. It's who you are, after all.\"\n\nWho I am. The thought felt heavy and cold, like a wet towel after a chilly swim. Lucky-fertile-cute. Clever-persuasive and... and something to do with a fox that adopts raccoons. \"I threatened to name Kev Bambi. Maybe I should call myself Thumper.\"\n\n\"Don't martyr yourself to that odious man.\"\n\n\"You don't know him.\"\n\n\"I know he threatened you and seeks to start a war.\"\n\nYou stuck me with him. Cly would just play innocent if she accused him. \"What's this name—Melia?\"\n\n\"It means 'contrary,'\" he said.\n\n\"Contrary.\" That at least captured their relationship. \"Melia it is.\"\n\nCly inclined his head, handing the page to Garland. \"We will be an hour or more.\"\n\n\"Understood.\" Garland caught Sophie's hand, looking straight into her eyes in that way that made her weak at the knees. Keeping up the pretense that they were engaged?\n\nNo, he wasn't that kind of a person.\n\n\"We will sail through this storm,\" he said. She felt a rush of heat to her face. Here he was, consoling her, when she was the one who got his ship sunk and his feet burned.\n\nContrary, she thought. Calamity.\n\n\"Daughter?\" Cly said. \"After you?\"\n\nThey began to climb.\n\nThe vertical climb was about two hundred feet, and just steep enough to excuse her from trying to converse. It required concentration, but the stone was dry and the steps well maintained; in good weather, they weren't truly dangerous.\n\nThey came out on bare blue stone. Sophie glanced around, hoping to sample a loose fragment of the shale, but saw nothing nearby. They were on the edge of a cliff overlooking the city and, beyond and below, the sea. The cylindrical bore of the Spellscrip Institute was invisible from here, folded into the crags.\n\nThe rocks were smooth and had a scrubbed look. There was no moss in the cracks, no little profusions of wildflowers, no discarded insect casings or spruce needles. The distance between the cliff's drop-off and the beginning of the trees was about ten feet—a generous stretch of path. The trees themselves were close-planted into a hedge; spruce branches matted together into a solid wall of needles, an impenetrable barrier. Their trunks were wound around with a thorny vine studded with white berries and pale yellow flowers.\n\n\"Are you going to tell me where we're going?\"\n\n\"It's a temple. Children are named here.\"\n\n\"Temple. There's a religious element to it?\"\n\nHe showed his teeth, forcing his face into an approximation of his usual, open expression, and nodded.\n\nReligion, she thought. Another Stormwrack thing that varied from nation to nation. Another interesting line of inquiry she hadn't been able to dig into. If your people could work magic, what did you worship?\n\nWhat constitutes a miracle on a world where you make mermaids out of broken-backed children?\n\nThey ran out of cliff, and the stone trail curved inland, the wall of trees clearing into a corridor, the trunks rising up soldier-straight to a height of about thirty feet, then bending to meet in a peak like a cathedral window. About every ten feet there was one tree that didn't bend; it left a gap in the roof, a skylight through which she could see a glimpse of blue.\n\nIt got colder as they walked. By the time they came out of the corridor, they were leaving prints in a three-inch fall of powdery snow.\n\nThey were descending now, Sophie noted, through an ever-frostier corridor of trees. The forest was unusually quiet, but for their steps and breath and one steady, pulsing—\n\nOh.\n\nCly's hair-trigger senses went off as the recognition gelled within her. \"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" she said. At least, I hope it's nothing.\n\n\"Lying is beneath you,\" he said, and the strain in his voice was obvious.\n\n\"It's just... I've been having this weird symptom. Sounds, or like having someone tap me behind the ear. Tap, tap, tap. Or... like shocks in the air, very faint, that I'm feeling on my skin.\" She stopped there. Everything she'd said was true, and she didn't want to get into eragliding and her newfound ability to hear the Worldclock.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 22%", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Since when?\"\n\nSince Bettona fed me those anise biscuits. \"It's a long story, Cly. But it might mean someone—this woman Pree, possibly—is nearby. She's involved with Gale's murder, and everything that's happened since.\"\n\nHis face grew serious. \"Let's hurry.\"\n\nThey picked up the pace, stepping out, ten minutes later, into a bowl of moss and pine needles, and soft furze, developing, over time, into a carpet of soil laid over the unyielding stone. The cleared circle was walled with trees, but these were divided into four quadrants, with corridors between them, and two streams—one steaming, one filled with chunks of ice—flowing to the bottom and vanishing into the leaf litter.\n\nThere was a stand of willows just breaking into spring leaves to the right of the ice-limned spruce, and then, moving clockwise from that, an orchard whose trees were laden with fruit at peak season, peaches so ripe she could smell them. Last was a stand of maples in full, glorious autumn red and yellow.\n\nWinter, spring, summer, and autumn, she thought.\n\nFour people came out of the trees to meet them. A naked, knobby-kneed boy of about eleven years slipped between two willows, pushing them aside like curtains as a woman Sophie's age ambled out of the peach orchard. A man in his forties or fifties, just going to gray and resembling Cly himself, stepped around the autumn maples. Crossing the ice of the stream, meanwhile, was a crone in black, so aged she looked like a mummy.\n\n\"Calle Izt?\" the crone rasped.\n\nOf course. They wouldn't speak Fleet.\n\nCly, to her surprise, dropped to his knees. He uttered a short phrase, the only word of which she caught was patter.\n\nFather.\n\nShould she kneel? He didn't seem to think so.\n\nTick, tick, tick. She shuddered. How far had she been from the pocket watch in San Francisco when the ticking stopped? Two miles?\n\nThe crone made her bone-clicky way to Cly, letting her skeletal fingers trickle through his hair and then over his face. Her expression was haughty, disdainful. She made a sepulchral clicking noise—tsk, tsk—and began to shake her head.\n\nCly let out a rush of words, and she backhanded him with shocking force. The blow brought him off his knees and tumbled him halfway down the bowl.\n\n\"Hey!\" Sophie protested.\n\n\"Don't interfere,\" Cly ordered. He was fixed on the old lady. \"We must do as they ask.\"\n\nNot liking the looks of this, suddenly.\n\nThe crone gestured to the child, who came and took Sophie's hand. He pressed it to his ear.\n\n\"Teck, teck, teck,\" he whispered, in time to the shock rhythm on her skin. \"Est vere. Verdanii metchen.\"\n\nSophie tried to memorize the words.\n\nThe four strangers looked at one another, consulting silently. Cly rolled up onto his seat and dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief.\n\nConsensus seemed to sweep through the quartet. The peach woman came and put an arm around Sophie. She smelled of freshly mown hay and flowers. Sophie found herself thinking of Garland, and not in a chaste way, as the woman drew her toward the orchard.\n\n\"Resteh,\" she said, urging Sophie to sit. She didn't relinquish her grip... and Sophie didn't delude herself that she'd let her go.\n\nShe met the woman's eyes, and the ill-timed lust got worse.\n\nWhat was the word for \"dad\" again? She whispered, \"Patter?\"\n\nThe woman patted Sophie's hair. \"Shh.\"\n\nAt a gesture from the autumn man, Cly got to his feet and descended to the bottom of the bowl, coming to stand in the pool, his feet disappearing into a scrim of fallen needles, maple leaves, flowers, and chunks of ice. He brushed at the litter on the pond's edge, revealing a quartet of statue hands, reaching up from underground.\n\nLike zombies digging their way out of the grave, Sophie thought. One of the hands was made of supple-looking greenwood. Another was thorny and dry, like blackberry cane, and a third was stone. The fourth was skeletal.\n\nCly examined them all before choosing the stone hand. He took it as though he was shaking hands. It moved, clasping him in return. The summer woman chose that moment to tuck her hand into Sophie's, making it eerily as though she was involved in all of this, somehow.\n\nCly straightened, drawing the hand with him. Its stone wrist tapered to a point, and a slender stem bound it to the ground.\n\nThe old woman muttered a few words.\n\nCly looked at Sophie. \"I'm directed to tell you now how I've failed you, as a parent.\"\n\nHis words cut through her growing sense of drowsiness and arousal. \"Failed?\"\n\n\"Shh!\" Peach girl's arms tightened around her.\n\nCly continued. \"I failed by marrying in contravention of our beliefs, by accepting a union that could end in divorce. I failed to pursue Beatrice after she left me, and failed by letting you go to the outlands to be fostered by strangers like a raccoon in a fox den. I failed by allowing you to come to this world unprepared—\"\n\nThis all had an air of confession—confession and penance—that Sophie wasn't liking. She tried to shake free of Summer's iron grip. \"What are you guys gonna do?\"\n\n\"Your lost name, your disconnection from your people, your lamentable beliefs—\" Here, a quirk of a smile. Was he teasing?\n\nThe old woman growled.\n\n\"If you guys are gonna hurt him, I'd just as soon—\"\n\n\"You are into the pain, Sophie, and entirely exposed. This, too, I take upon myself,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Stop!\" she said.\n\nThe pool at his feet erupted into a geyser, a vertical thrust of water that engulfed Cly, ripping him off his feet, hurling him into the air. The only thing anchoring him to the ground was his grip on the stone hand, with its thin stem acting as a tether. Steam and ice, and the rock hand must be slippery, Sophie thought, as the tears came. She tried again to get out of the peach woman's grip and failed.\n\nHer birth father was completely upside down, now, Superman in a dive, pointed down fist-first and struggling to bring his other arm down to protect his head as chunks of ice within the geyser pelted him.\n\nAll he could do was hang on. Was that it? How long would they expect him to endure?\n\nThe ice had given way to hunks of mud, spattering fists pounding against Cly's body, and then, after an eternity, the water clarified and began to steam.\n\nCly bared his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, turning away from the heat.\n\n\"Stop! You're scalding him! Stop!\"\n\nThen it was slush, creeping up around his hand, which was still impossibly clenched—\n\nClenched in hers, and ice cold. She felt ice crystallizing around her wrist and lower palm, and the grip of his fingers around hers, warm and impossibly strong. She closed her eyes, breathing, imagining being on a rock face and holding a rope, just keeping her grip.\n\nShe closed out everything but that sense of hanging on. Her hand and arm ached; her shoulder felt as though it might pull out of its socket.\n\nWords thrummed through the clearing: \"Zophie Opal Meliadottar Hansa—\"\n\nThe crone's voice filled her ears, and then, impossibly, she was kneeling at the edge of the pool and Cly was within, sputtering. Drowning?\n\nThey were holding hands.\n\nShe got to her feet, braced, and pulled him up and out. He was soaked to the skin, shivering. A bruise was coming out on his cheek.\n\n\"Don't fret, child,\" he said, in a voice far too thready to allay her distress.\n\n\"You didn't say there'd be an ordeal!\"\n\n\"What difference would it have made?\" he asked. \"But that I should have had to drag you up that incline by force?\"\n\nShe had no answer for that.\n\nHe sat heavily on the leaf litter and peeled off his shirt, rolling the fabric tight to wring it out.\n\n\"Where's that handkerchief?\" He handed her the sodden square of fabric. \"I've broken some stitches on my shoulder. Would you?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" She found the water feeding from the hot spring, cleared the floating refuse, and soaked and heated the handkerchief. Then she pressed it to the gash. \"Dueling wound?\"\n\nHe nodded, rolling the shirt out and beginning to pick bits of spruce off of it. \"Next time we do this, I shall bring a change of clothes.\"\n\n\"Let's not have a next time.\"\n\n\"Agreed. How's the ticking? Gone?\"\n\n\"Uh...\" She stretched out her free hand. \"Fainter. Further away. Maybe we left whoever-it-is behind, or maybe they weren't following us.\"\n\n\"Perhaps your betrothed turned them back.\"\n\nGarland. She swallowed. It was odd and overwhelming, Cly half-clothed and all his many scars on display.\n\n\"How's the bleeding?\"\n\nRight. Stay on task. She glanced under the handkerchief. \"Not much. It was mostly healed.\"\n\n\"Tsk,\" he said, looking regretfully at the shirt before shrugging free of her and working his way into the garment.\n\nHe did look a mess, there was no denying it.\n\n\"I didn't know you'd have to go through that.\"\n\n\"It might have been worse,\" he said, cheerfully. \"I'd heard rumors of an ordeal involving open flame.\"\n\n\"You're pyrophobic?\"\n\n\"Psychoanalysis. Pyrophobic.\" A weary grin. \"These atomist words of yours.\"\n\n\"It just means afraid of fire.\"\n\n\"I'm going to regret telling you that, one day,\" he predicted.\n\nShe found herself smiling, and then froze up, remembering the reasons why relaxing around Cly was a bad idea.\n\n\"Why did you? Tell me?\"\n\n\"Why should you not know?\" he said. \"You're a good person, Sophie. I have no reason to fear you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She rolled that over, thinking she shouldn't have mixed feelings about it. \"Is it tied to the spell your parents had worked on you? The one to stop you setting fires?\"\n\n\"Create the fear, stop the behavior.\" His lip curled. \"Same type of magic your Kev used to practice. Caging the mind, limiting one's ability to choose...\"\n\nAs I just did with Kev himself, she thought uncomfortably. \"Are you ready to go?\"\n\n\"Not quite now; I'm yet a little shaken.\" Cly flexed his knees. Then he added, \"I wish you would explain what it is that has so marred your trust in me.\"\n\n\"Cly—\" She felt a stronger than usual compulsion to answer him.\n\n\"On my oath, Sophie, I will answer any question you put to me. This is a holy place. Nobody would dare lie here.\"\n\n\"Really? Anything?\"\n\nHe would get her talking, and then he'd ask her something... and she had secrets, too.\n\n\"I got myself soaked and encrusted in filth for you,\" he said. \"What's an interrogation to that?\"\n\n\"You are such a fashion victim,\" she said.\n\nHe gave her a faint grin as he tried to comb out his hair.\n\nManipulative. He knows you feel bad about the ordeal and he's trying to work his way into your good graces.\n\nWise or not, the temptation to know overcame her, as it always did. \"Was it you who told Kev he could ask me to claim him?\"\n\n\"Clever girl. I arranged for someone on Docket to tell him.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Buying him at auction would have been prohibitive, even if he hadn't opted to take the blade.\"\n\n\"Seriously.\"\n\n\"I believe as you do. The voyage of the Incannis was part of some greater scheme against the Cessation. Kev is a piece in a political gambit whose endgame is the breaking of the Fleet. If we can hold him for a time, and truly see his nature, we can bring this plan to light.\"\n\n\"Why not ask me to help, instead of being all Machiavellian?\"\n\n\"Ah. That brings us back nicely to the issue of the discord between us.\"\n\nUs. And maybe there was a spell in play here, or his suggesting it had some kind of psychosomatic effect, but it felt wrong not to clear the air. \"Okay, here it is. Do you fuck your slaves?\"\n\nCly froze, with his fingers in his hair. It was the move of a stalking cat who'd heard a noise and stopped to threat-assess. He turned to face her squarely, swallowed, and said, softly, dangerously, \"I hadn't thought your opinion of me was quite that bad.\"\n\nShe stood her ground. He'd gone out late one night, she knew that, and one of the kitchen slaves had been in hysterics the next day. And there had to be owners—her stomach turned as she remembered that category included herself now—who did it. \"You're saying no?\"\n\n\"Part of me is tempted to reply as you did when I learned about your sordid liaison with that Tiladene: 'Who I sleep with is none of your business.'\"\n\n\"Not the same thing. Are you raping your slaves, Cly? Yes or no?\"\n\nIf he was faking his hurt, someone should put him onstage. \"No. I find the idea repugnant.\"\n\nShe believed him. There was no great reason to, sacred grove or not, but a surge of relief overtook her. \"Okay. So, no then. Um, thank you.\"\n\n\"I have nothing to hide.\"\n\nBut she did, didn't she? And she was bad enough at lying as it was.\n\nFortunately, Cly still had father-daughter relations on his mind. \"You'd cooled to me before we got to Low Bann. When did you take to wondering—\" His face twisted in disgust. \"There's something else.\"\n\nShe thought for a second. \"There's no question I can ask about the other thing.\"\n\n\"There is 'another thing,' though?\"\n\n\"I can try to explain, but it'll take a while,\" she said. \"How about on the walk back? You're getting cold, and we have to get down those steps.\"\n\n\"Agreed.\" He opened and closed his hand around the pommel of his sword, checking his grip. \"After you.\"\n\nShe looked at the snow and ice. \"We can't take one of the other ways down?\"\n\n\"They lead to the other Spellscrip Institutes,\" he said. \"Far from Winter.\"\n\nWow. Teleportation? You go in there and come out near Low Bann?\n\nWhy not? Verena can travel in time, or between dimensions. All those timepieces containing slivers of the Worldclock; she just bops between them.\n\n\"Okay,\" she said. They crunched through the snow—Cly actually picked up a handful and let his hand cool in it. \"So, pyrophobia—\"\n\n\"Fear of fire.\"\n\n\"It's an example of a kind of... mental disorder. Very minor.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he agreed. And then, doing the math: \"You fear I'm mad?\"\n\nShe gave him a sideways glance. \"There's a condition. At home, we call it sociopathy. People with it are disconnected from a lot of their emotions. They aren't good at empathy. Do you know what empathy is?\"\n\n\"Understanding and sharing the feelings of others.\"\n\n\"Sociopaths take advantage of people, and often they're quite charming...\"\n\n\"Social grace as a sign of madness.\" He rolled that over. \"You're saying I playact some of my feelings?\"\n\nSeas, he was quick! \"A lot of sociopaths are scam artists. Some make out all right in corporate environments, where ruthlessness pays.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I appreciate being lumped in with criminals and devious pencil pushers.\"\n\nShe drew a big breath. In a way, it was harder to say because he seemed so incredibly unconcerned. \"Some are homicidal. Some are... you'd say monstrous.\"\n\nHe burst out laughing. \"Ah, I see. I kill a few bandits on Incannis and you decide I'm not only unbalanced but intractably wicked.\"\n\n\"That's just it. You're laughing off killing.\"\n\n\"They endangered my ship, my cadets, and my only child.\" He shrugged. \"Does defending my ground make me a... sociopath?\"\n\n\"There are... signs.\" It sounded ridiculous. It sounded like pseudoscience. \"Those fires you set as a kid—\"\n\n\"Oh, Sophie,\" he said. \"This is an outlander superstition, and you'll have to look past it. I am a warrior born. It's my nature. I use it for the good of my nation and the Fleet. I keep the peace, child!\"\n\n\"You're not taking me seriously.\"\n\n\"No,\" he agreed. \"Frankly, I'm relieved. And speaking of manipulative, you've managed to get us out of the sacred grove before I could ask if you truly mean to marry that man Parrish.\"\n\n\"We've had enough truth for one afternoon.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" he agreed, in infuriating good humor now.\n\nTheir progress down the stone steps was slow; Cly was bruised, moving slowly. Sophie glanced at the angle of the sun. They'd kept Garland waiting for over two hours.\n\nHe seemed content enough, breaking into a dazzling smile as they descended, and she saw he had been collecting what he could—he had a little pile of insect casings, yellow flower petals, and one small black pebble for her.\n\n\"It's not much,\" he said, holding it out. \"But this wing is interesting.\"\n\nShe kissed him. For Cly, she told herself. For show. Seas, it felt good. \"You see anyone while you waited?\"\n\n\"I heard someone further down,\" he said. \"Light-footed and nimble, from the sound of their steps. They took another path.\"\n\n\"Come, children,\" Cly said airily. \"Let's get you home. Lots of figures to dance before your big day.\"\n\nThey hiked back into the Winter Spellscrip Institute, this time coming out within a structure whose interior walls were plated in white stone—quartz? —worked to resemble ice crystals, snowflakes, and blooms of frost. There, Sophie left a query about fright inscriptions and anything employing cats' claws.\n\n\"If you'll both wait here,\" Cly said, vanishing down a corridor.\n\n\"It ended up being Meliadottar,\" she murmured in Garland's ear, while they were waiting.\n\nHe nodded. \"Understood.\"\n\nHis own middle name had been lost at birth. Sophie had yet to get the whole story on that, but Tonio had unearthed the name recently and had shared it with Sophie. Burdened her, was how he had put it, and he'd sworn her to secrecy.\n\nGarland hadn't had so much as a tooth-straightening spell.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Just thinking—you're all you. You're untouched.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Our elders lay intentions on us in all sorts of ways. What we make of their gifts, whether we can cut ourselves free of their wishes and intentions... some say it depends entirely on circumstance, nature, and our own choices.\"\n\n\"Some?\"\n\n\"I fear, in some ways, it's an impossible task.\"\n\nHow can I know my nature when I've been molded from the start? He'd have an answer to that, too, but it wouldn't help, and she was too emotionally exhausted to put the question to him.\n\nShe felt herself droop a little, and then, before he could be concerned or comforting, she turned it into a stretch, bending, taking a couple of deep breaths. It was calming... for all of a second. Then the earworm started up again: tick, tick, tick.\n\n\"Sophie?\"\n\n\"Someone's here,\" she said. \"The other eraglider.\"\n\n\"Pree?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"The clock sounds tiny, like a wristwatch. Someone made off with a few slivers of the Worldclock.\"\n\n\"This person is nearby?\"\n\n\"Within a couple miles.\"\n\nGarland looked around. \"There must be thousands of people in this complex.\"\n\nCly turned up then, in a cloak that somewhat concealed his bedraggled state.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The carriage is here,\" he said. \"The scribes will contact us when they've looked over the papers and completed the work.\"\n\nThey passed through a corridor lit by spectacular chandeliers of quartz and candlelight, coming out into a lane where the carriage, with its blue-maned bay horses, was indeed waiting.\n\nA twenty-minute ride took them into the city. Sophie looked over the series of samples Garland had given her. He was right about the patch of wing. There was also a scale—from a reptile, she assumed, but the scale was large. If it was a snake, it was a big one.\n\nDid they have dragons here on Stormwrack? They had harpies of sorts, altered humans with wings long enough to carry them aloft. And those mermaids...\n\nAs she considered the possibilities, she continued to scan the streets and pathways, looking for Verdanii eragliders. Instead, she saw someone familiar disembarking from a carriage ahead of them.\n\nCly, as usual, sensed her reaction. \"Rees Erminne and his mother,\" he said. They were with a woman clad in white, her face covered with a wafting assortment of veils. Rees and the veiled woman wore the crimson sash of the engaged, just as Sophie and Garland did. \"Fralienne found someone to marry her boy at last. Foreigner, from the look of her. Perhaps from Gellada?\"\n\nSophie found herself blushing. She'd gotten the idea, a few months ago, that Cly was trying to marry her to Rees. She'd tried put a pin in that by declaring, during a full-bore society event, that she was promiscuous.\n\nGarland saw that, she remembered.\n\nShe said, \"So it's not on, you and Rees's mother?\"\n\n\"Politics sailed beyond us. Sawtooth playing host to Annela Gracechild... We may have kept the Havers from firing upon Nightjar, but the forces against continued union of the Fleet have been making much of the event. I cannot afford to flout society's conventions again—not too obviously, in any case. Fralienne and her abolitionist allies have, therefore, evolved a new strategy.\"\n\n\"She's running for governor of Autumn, isn't she?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"And so Rees needs must marry.\"\n\n\"Politics and business,\" Sophie murmured.\n\n\"It's past time,\" Cly said. \"He's long been too old to remain childish.\"\n\nRees and his mother had freed all their slaves, and were land rich and cash poor as a result. Cly had been considering an alliance with them, much to his family's distress. The Banning estate was run by unpaid laborers, slaves who maintained apiaries and picked orchards, and a dozen household servants. If he had divested...\n\nCly had let Sophie think it was all for her—that he'd hook up with Fralienne and throw all his family retainers to the wind, just because Sophie was dead set against slavery.\n\nBut was that likely?\n\nBefore she could ask, they'd reached the hotel.\n\n\"I need to have my stitches seen to,\" Cly said. \"You've got time to change and eat.\"\n\n\"Eat before what?\"\n\nBut he'd gone on ahead, striding through the lobby and bounding up the staircase.\n\nGarland helped her out of the carriage. \"I'm sure he's dying to get out of those wet breeches.\"\n\n\"Would you promise me something?\"\n\n\"Anything,\" he said, without a second's hesitation.\n\nShe felt a little flutter. \"I was just going to say that, if you're ever facing an ordeal, don't hide it from me.\"\n\n\"I promise.\" He nodded. \"You too.\"\n\n\"What would I go through? Renewing my driver's license?\"\n\n\"Nevertheless...\"\n\n\"I promise,\" she said, and the words felt weighty, more momentous than the Fleet oath. They were holding hands.\n\nWhatever might have happened next was interrupted by a discreet cough. Krispos was waiting at the gate to greet them.\n\n\"Were you with Kev?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Yes. The pacification took hold about an hour ago. I'd got him some ostrich from the Mancellor... He nearly choked, spitting it up.\"\n\n\"He's ill?\" Garland said.\n\n\"He can't eat flesh anymore,\" Sophie reminded him.\n\n\"No, he's ill,\" Krispos said. \"I think that Kev may be well into the pain.\"\n\nSophie flashed on the coppery flavor of her gums bleeding. \"Has a doctor seen him?\"\n\n\"Yes, I sent for one,\" Krispos said. \"He may be abed a few days. It'll get him out of scrubbing floors.\"\n\n\"I should go—\" And do what? Apologize?\n\n\"I left him sleeping,\" Krispos said. \"The concierge will send a messenger when he wakes.\"\n\nSophie sagged against the gate, letting her head fall into her hands. \"He's no better off than he was a month ago. We're just dragging out the suffering.\"\n\nGarland said, \"We may yet find a way, once he's free, to get Kev to refuge.\"\n\nShe shook her head, trying to extricate herself from the turmoil of guilt. Failing that, she turned back to Krispos. \"Listen, I want you to go to Low Bann. The observer in the turtle case sent copies of our data there, thinking we'd be going to Cly's. And there's other mail. Get it, then go to the Spellscrip Institute and read the stuff Autumn Spell said she'd show us on frightmaking.\"\n\n\"Is that important now?\"\n\n\"You know, I think it is. I think the frightmaker's... crucial to what's happening in Fleet and what's happening to Kev. Oh, see how that young cousin of Cly's, Merelda, is doing as a spellscribe apprentice, too. If she's not working out, we might scoop her for the Forensic Institute.\"\n\nKrispos gave a brisk nod, noting all of it without writing it down. Then, turning pink even before he moved, he put his arms around her in a sudden, tight, and terribly awkward hug. \"There's nobody to help Kev, nobody else willing. What you are doing... You can't even guess what the Golders might do to him. Even if he has done bad things, terrible, terrible things, he doesn't deserve...\"\n\nSophie's mouth fell open.\n\nKrispos's words dried up. He pulled away, scarlet-faced, and almost tottered into Garland before fleeing in the direction of the gardens.\n\n\"Should I go after him, do you think?\"\n\nGarland shook his head. \"Let the poor man recover his composure.\"\n\nThey arrived upstairs only steps ahead of a hot dinner—goat stew, heavy with bay leaf, with a juniper chutney on the side, and a barely fermented peach cider to drink. Cly had ordered Garland a white shirt, slacks, and a coat with tails. It was faintly like a tuxedo and went well with the crimson sash. Sophie headed into her room and found a similar outfit, fitted by Cly's tailor, no doubt.\n\nShe came out wearing it. \"Check out the lady suit. All I need is a top hat.\"\n\n\"Mine fits quite well. His Honor has an eye for clothes.\"\n\n\"I was just calling him a fashion whore. Question is, what's it for?\"\n\n\"Cohabitation class.\" Cly appeared, washed and dressed and presumably newly restitched. He was toweling his salt-and-pepper hair briskly.\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"I can't fling you into marriage unprepared, can I? Custom requires that you be taught certain realities.\"\n\n\"OMG. Is this sex ed?\"\n\n\"Among other things.\"\n\n\"Cly, you already know I'm—\" She ran aground on his amused expression, but bulled on. \"You already know I'm sexually active. Half the damned Autumn District knows.\"\n\n\"The better half, to be sure. Marriage is about more than physical intimacy, child. But...\" He leaned back in a leather chair, not quite hiding a wince. \"If you're telling me you aren't serious about this relationship, it's not too late to dissolve it.\"\n\n\"And be not engaged, and not an adult, and let you scoop up Kev.\"\n\n\"Whereupon I should no doubt do something terrifically sociopathic—was that the word? —to him.\"\n\n\"That is not funny.\"\n\n\"I am determined to ascertain how Kev fits into the greater scheme against the peace. To put my hand on a moving piece in this game and thereby sweep the board.\"\n\n\"I'm all for winning, but you still don't get to torture him!\"\n\n\"You shall have to rely on your deductive faculties to stop me.\"\n\nA glimmer of hope. \"If we work it out, you'll let me do as I please with him?\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Would you help us get him somewhere safe?\"\n\n\"You'd need to work something of a wonder for the Cessation if you want me to go that far.\"\n\nShe found herself grinning. \"Fair enough. We'll reassemble the crime wall here on this nice big stretch of plaster. Consider the suspects, go through their moves: murdering Gale, trying to disarm Temperance, the bandits on Incannis, this new scheme. All the stuff.\"\n\n\"No time for that now,\" Cly said. \"The carriage awaits. Here's a tip for the driver.\"\n\n\"Fine.\" Premarital counseling; putting pressure on. This is a big game of chicken. She looked apologetically at Garland, who shrugged.\n\n\"Okay, down we go.\"\n\nThe same carriage, with the voluptuous woman and the bays with their streaked manes, was waiting.\n\n\"I am sorry about this, Garland.\"\n\n\"No, no. It's possible I'll learn something.\"\n\nWas he joking?\n\nShe leaned forward and called up to the driver. \"Do you speak Fleet?\"\n\n\"Little, Kir.\"\n\n\"We need to go back to that registration office in the Institute tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Must to ask His Honor.\"\n\n\"I thought you were at our disposal.\"\n\n\"His Honor pays me.\"\n\n\"How much for a ride to the registration office?\"\n\n\"Twenty-two akro, or nine Fleet dollars.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She glanced at Garland.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 35 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My signing privileges would have been put on hold when our Watchbox sank,\" he said.\n\n\"So I not only destroyed your ship, I've reduced you to poverty.\"\n\n\"You mustn't trouble yourself,\" he said.\n\n\"We could walk it, I suppose.\" She remembered his feet. \"No, we can't.\"\n\n\"I could manage, Sophie. We'd want to go early—the line.\"\n\n\"No barging the line without help from the big Fleet judge.\" That would take a big chunk of time. An hour for the walk, then the waiting, and paper pushing.\n\nAn ugly thought occurred to her. She tapped on the driver's window again. \"Does it cost anything to free a slave?\"\n\nThe driver's attitude softened noticeably. \"Six years on since I was freed, and it was three hundred akro I had to pay. Average gone up since then.\"\n\nShe fell back in her seat. \"Teeth.\"\n\nThe carriage pulled up at a walled park, and an interminable stop-and-start took hold as they edged through a bottleneck at the gate. Uniformed guards were letting crimson-sashed young people, some as many as ten years younger than Sophie, out of the carriages. Beyond them, in a lantern-lit copse of birch trees, silk tents stretched along a promenade strewn with tiny white flowers.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"It's a conjugal traffic jam. They're registering—I see a registration table. It's like a convention of...\"\n\n\"Of the engaged,\" Garland said.\n\nThey shared an uneasy glance.\n\nSophie tapped the window again. \"Driver?\"\n\n\"Hes, Kir?\"\n\n\"Everyone in Sylvanna gets engaged in the summer, is that right?\"\n\n\"Hes.\"\n\n\"So...\" She swallowed, and heard that ticking in her ears. In her current state of mind, it made her think of a time bomb. \"How long are they engaged for?\"\n\n\"Until solstice, Kir.\"\n\n\"Everyone marries on the solstice?\" Garland asked.\n\n\"You didn't know?\" the driver asked.\n\nGarland shook his head. \"Sophie...\"\n\n\"I know. I know. Oh—\" A mild Fleet epithet wouldn't cover this. \"Shit.\"\n\nSolstice was three days away.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: Match existing character backgrounds if present\nMy role: Provide opening\nYour role: eighty sentences in the fantasy, pirates genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three days. Three days to free Kev and get him off Sylvanna without a ship. Three days to come up with hundreds of akro for the fee.\n\nShe and Garland registered for marriage counseling in a shared state of shock and were directed to a tent near the rear of the assembly, designated for foreigners and abolitionists—troublemakers, in other words. Inside was a table set with steaming teacups and a circle of low love seats, each big enough for a couple. Two other pairs of young people dressed in suits were drinking tea and sitting across from each other. One was two women, which left Sophie to wonder whether, despite Cly having assured her that gay people had equal rights here, the same-sex couples automatically ended up in the outsider tent. The other couple was straight, a Sylvanner boy of sixteen and a girl with mint-green spots on her face and a Fleet uniform.\n\nIs that chlorophyll? Sophie wondered, once again reaching for the camera that had sunk with Nightjar, and finding instead a satchel crammed with things she hoped might prove useful: the book of questions and some other papers, pens, a few envelopes for biosamples, and—for no good reason except that she couldn't make herself leave it behind—her latent fingerprinting kit.\n\nTheir classmates had the bored air of kids in detention. They didn't mingle but murmured quietly, just waiting.\n\nAs Sophie poured herself a cup of the steaming, lemon-scented tea, the tent flap opened again and Rees Erminne stepped inside with the veiled woman. The pins on her sash seemed to indicate she had been retired from service within the Fleet.\n\n\"Rees!\" Sophie was half delighted and half horrified.\n\nRees had tried his utmost to keep her from bellowing \"I'm a slut!\" at the top of her lungs at the Highsummer Festival. But—\n\nEmbarrassment be damned. This was an opportunity.\n\nHe bowed. \"Kir Sophie.\"\n\n\"Hi. Can we talk a sec?\"\n\n\"I'm here with Cleste, my betrothed.\" Rees was more than usually kempt. When she'd met him, he'd reminded her of a good-natured giant koala bear. Now his beard had been trimmed and the suit, though patched in spots, was impeccably turned out.\n\n\"Hi... Cleste? And congrats. Rees, it doesn't have to be a private convo.\" Come on, persuasive spell.\n\nMaybe it was the magic, or just the fact that he was trapped, but his shoulders slumped.\n\nThe fiancée patted his shoulder. \"All's well, Rees.\"\n\nBefore anyone had a chance to rethink, Sophie yanked Kev's emancipation papers out of her satchel. \"I'm trying to free a guy. I can't explain how I ended up with him—\"\n\n\"All of Winter knows about your murderer.\" His voice was neutral. \"That he's a Haver spellscribe. Who it was he killed. The reason Incannis targeted the ships it sank.\"\n\n\"He agreed to a pacification spell,\" Sophie explained. \"But this paperwork, to free him... I don't read Sylvanner and Cly won't help. Do you see anything about a fee?\"\n\nHe scanned down. \"Ten thousand akro.\"\n\nShe sucked wind for the second time that night.\n\n\"Ten thousand?\" Garland said incredulously.\n\n\"Fees are at the discretion of the bonding office,\" Rees said.\n\n\"I don't suppose you have ten grand lying around that I could borrow?\"\n\nThat got a glimmer of warmth from him. \"I'm poor, remember?\"\n\nShe turned to Garland. \"They don't have credit cards here, do they?\"\n\n\"There is another way,\" Rees's fiancée said.\n\n\"Yeah?\" Sophie perked up.\n\n\"I've been rude, haven't I?\" Rees said. \"Cleste, meet Sophie Banning and Captain Garland Parrish.\"\n\nCleste bowed, sidestepped a couple who'd taken the opportunity to try to dive between them—when the group huddled around the slavery paperwork, they had inadvertently blocked the tea table—and made a Come here gesture to regroup them off to the side.\n\nRees added, \"We've— You might guess that our political inclinations are aligned.\"\n\nMeaning Cleste was opposed to slavery. As usual, nobody was supposed to say so aloud.\n\n\"Avoiding the fee?\" Garland prompted.\n\n\"Oui,\" Cleste said. \"The fee is a barrier to the bonded. They have to reimburse their owners and the government to buy their freedom... They are, in effect, double charged. It's not meant to penalize landowners. You can free anyone with a simple declaration, on a holiday. It's what Rees's father did.\"\n\nSophie said, \"That sounds too good to be true.\"\n\n\"When's the next eligible holiday?\" Garland asked.\n\n\"Solstice, at the feast before the wedding.\"\n\n\"Does the feast happen long before the ceremony?\"\n\n\"We eat. The toasts and declarations of liberation are then made. After that, we wed.\"\n\nGarland winced, ever so slightly.\n\n\"In the morning, having been made adults,\" Rees added, \"new married couples go to vote for the first time.\"\n\n\"Teeth,\" Sophie said. \"So if we want to free Kev, we have to show up for the wedding?\"\n\n\"Why wouldn't you show up—\" Rees was interrupted by a pair of drill sergeant types, one male, one female, marching through the tent flap, pushing one last couple before them, and barking out orders.\n\n\"Sit, children, sit!\"\n\nGarland chose a blue love seat across from the entrance, drawing Sophie after him. It was a snug squeeze.\n\n\"This is marriage!\" the woman bellowed. \"Two beings crammed in the same boat, rowing to common purpose.\"\n\nTheir instructors were a married pair of retired Fleet officers—she from Sylvanna, he from Tonio's home nation, Erinth. They opened with some patter about the glories of the Fleet in bringing together diverse peoples. Then the woman broke into a fire-and-brimstone speech about the sanctity of Sylvanner marriage and their total ban on divorce.\n\nI bet they don't have annulment, either, Sophie thought. Cly had to have himself declared dead to legally detangle himself from Beatrice.\n\nThe woman went on in mind-numbing detail: marriage was a partnership, building a life together a sacred duty. Across the circle of cushions, Rees wore a pained expression.\n\nGarland listened to every word as though it was at least as interesting as the time Sophie had told him about insect pheromones.\n\nSo we stay right up to the last minute, free Kev, and make a dash for it... to where? And with what ship?\n\nThe earworm lay beneath it all. Tick, tick, tick. Somewhere in this dense Sylvanner city, fairly close, there was a sliver of the Worldclock, a timepiece. An eraglider. The sister Bettona had primed with those apricot and anise biscuits.\n\nThe sensation faded as Sophie focused on it.\n\n\"Kir Hansa!\" The drill sergeant gave her a warning glower, and Sophie tried to look engaged.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After the lecture on the sanctity of marriage, the instructors went around the circle, directing the foreigners to talk briefly about customs in their homelands.\n\n\"Where I was raised, we have divorce,\" was Sophie's contribution.\n\nGarland's was \"Marriage does not serve the dead.\"\n\nThen they were required to look each other in the eyes, sitting nose to nose in the too-small love seats, and talk about their hopes for the future.\n\n\"How many children do you want? How soon do you want to have them? How will you allocate and manage your shared property? Do you follow the same faith? What are your parents settling on you?\"\n\nThe last made her laugh. \"I think I'm probably dowry free.\"\n\nGarland smiled. \"I have a claim on a grave in the capital of Issle Morta.\"\n\n\"Don't be frivolous.\" Their instructor loomed over Sophie. \"Say something of import. Now.\"\n\nBe honest on command. Great. She looked into Garland's eyes. \"I want to raise Nightjar. I want to make up for some of the damage I've done since—\"\n\nHis hand closed around hers. \"Don't, Sophie.\"\n\nThe sergeant smiled. \"And you, flailer? What do you expect from this woman?\"\n\nRight. This is exactly how to conduct an intimate conversation.\n\n\"I want to set your mind at ease,\" Garland said, as if baring his soul in front of strangers was the easiest thing in the universe. \"About the question of destiny that bothers you so, about the intentions laid upon you.\"\n\nNow she was almost in tears. \"Beatrice made me charming. And my looks—\"\n\n\"Do you think it's the gloss that matters?\"\n\nShe opened her mouth. What came out was a small, choked sound.\n\n\"I know who you are, Sophie Hansa,\" he said. \"I know your need to understand everything you encounter. I know you're determined to shield Kev from abuse, despite his crimes. Your courage is no work of outside magic—\"\n\n\"Stop,\" she said.\n\nThe drill sergeant said, \"Reply, child!\"\n\nShe fought the urge to snap back at the facilitator, kept her eyes locked on Garland's, groped for words... and suddenly felt something settle, within, with the solidity of good boots on bedrock. For just an instant, she was hammered by jaw-dropping, bolt-from-the-blue surprise. \"Of course. Of course I know you.\"\n\nTheir instructor grunted. \"Love matches,\" she muttered in a weary drawl before moving on.\n\nIt went on like that for another hour: trapped nose to nose on the cushion, interrogated about their hopes and dreams, obliged to share, while their instructors circled and eavesdropped and intervened whenever they got too shallow.\n\nBy the time they got to stretch and eat a sandwich, Sophie was wrung out, almost physically shaky. Then their wranglers drew a curtain across the tent. \"I'll want the ladies here on this side,\" said the woman. \"My husband will take the gentlemen.\"\n\nThis made it six to four, since the lesbians came together.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"I'm going to acquaint you with the basics of physical intimacy.\" The woman opened a large hardbound book. The left page was an illustration of a nude woman; the right was a diagram that might have been at home in a California sex education class. \"There's no need to feel awkward, Kir Sophie.\"\n\n\"I'm not,\" she said. \"But your drawing's wrong.\"\n\n\"Wrong?\"\n\n\"Well, incomplete. Her ovaries and fallopian tubes are missing, and if we're going to talk about sex, the real organ we need in the mix is the brain.\"\n\nThe entire tent, both sides, had fallen silent.\n\n\"Your outland notions about marital congress—\"\n\n\"They're not notions, and I don't need a bunch of half-baked information on sex. I've had sex,\" she said.\n\nThe women, but for Cleste, ootched two steps farther from her.\n\n\"Kir!\" The instructor remonstrated. \"Your betrothed is mere steps away!\"\n\n\"Oh, he knows. Believe me, everyone knows.\"\n\n\"It's true,\" Garland's voice sounded, from the other side of the curtain. \"And, actually, we've both been—\"\n\n\"Stop!\" The instructor glowered at Sophie. \"We are not interested in the lewd customs of your adopted nation. You're here as a Sylvanner. Conduct yourself accordingly.\"\n\n\"Or what? Is this class a pass/fail proposition? If we don't pass this unit, do we get forbidden to marry?\"\n\nThe woman sputtered.\n\n\"It is an excellent question,\" Garland said. He was right on the other side of the sheet of fabric.\n\nI know you. At the thought, a shiver went through her.\n\nHe added, \"We're likely to be disruptive as well as scandalous.\"\n\nThe instructor glowered. \"Go, then! Take your indecent selves out and be back in ninety for dance lessons.\"\n\nSophie was feeling reckless and rebellious both. She took Garland's arm and, cuddling up, attempted to flounce as they left the tent.\n\n\"Everything you need to know about sex in ninety minutes,\" she muttered. \"Raging Seas.\"\n\nIt was cold out. The tents, with their warming stones, had trapped a lot of heat. But the stars above were clear, cut white diamonds set in a black marble sky. Light snowflakes were falling.\n\nShe began to giggle as soon as they were clear of the tent. \"Talk about dodging a bullet. Sorry if that embarrassed you.\"\n\n\"I didn't wish to sit through a description of intimacy mechanics.\"\n\n\"Was getting away worth the risk of hypothermia?\"\n\n\"Let's see if we can avoid that, too.\"\n\n\"And get you off those burnt feet.\"\n\n\"They're much better.\" Garland led her to the rear corner of the park, to a darkened tent. Peering inside, they found staging materials for the seminar—more tea on trays, cushions, and llama skin blankets.\n\n\"Over here,\" he said, nudging three of the cushions together and pulling her close.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His lips met hers, and it was as if they hadn't been interrupted, all those weeks ago, in his cabin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 54 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His hands gently tugged her shirt out of the lady suit trousers and his fingers ran up her rib cage, pausing at the foreign structure of her bra.\n\n\"There's a fastener on the back,\" she said, sliding her hands down to his pants buttons. Then, rather than rushing things, she laid her head against his chest for a moment. \"What are we going to do?\"\n\n\"Free Kev and flee before the wedding.\"\n\n\"Cly's gonna be expecting that.\"\n\n\"He did essentially say that, if we can expose the conspiracy, he'll release us from this deception.\"\n\n\"If not?\"\n\n\"We outmaneuver him.\"\n\n\"What if we fail?\"\n\nHe brought his nose close to hers again. \"If we were force-marched to the altar, Sophie, and they asked if I wanted to marry you—\"\n\n\"Don't say it.\"\n\n\"I would never trap you in an alliance you didn't want. I merely wish...\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Perhaps... that we'd known each other longer.\"\n\nShe ran her hands down his hips, marveling at the statue smoothness of him, the welcome warmth of his skin. She wasn't sure she'd ever waited this long, with anyone, but she wasn't about to say so. She wasn't going to say anything that might change his mind, or even slow him down.\n\nSoon there was nothing between them—no fabric, no belts. They kicked off their boots at the same moment.\n\n\"I wish I could see you,\" she said.\n\n\"Me too.\" He kissed her, lips eager and edging to roughness, and she thought about the things they should talk about, all the unresolved stuff. But he'd been right, all those months ago, when he wrote to her. They could work it out.\n\nHe knows me. A flood of relief. She'd been swimming against the current of something that, unscientific as it was, nevertheless had to be.\n\n\"I'm eager to begin,\" she whispered, quoting that letter, and he got it. He laughed breathlessly and eased the whole of his body against hers, forehead to toes, and all that heat in the middle. It was a jolt. She curled her hand into his hair and met him, reaching, kissing, trying to hold all of him at once.\n\nThen they were joined, moving together, the waves of sensation so intense she found tears running down her face even as she laughed. The two of them were like a live wire, voltage boiling through a cable, and it was all she could do to hold in the sound, to keep from shouting or sobbing or laughing this whole sleepy park full of virgins awake.\n\nShe shuddered to a final, electric, head-to-toes jolt, pressing her head against his shoulder, and as they relaxed, breathing shallowly, he ran a finger down her cheek, wiping the tears there.\n\n\"It's you,\" she whispered in the dark, before she could rethink it, before he could get the wrong idea.\n\n\"You're crying.\" She couldn't tell what was in his voice.\n\nShe caught his face in his hands, kissed him long and hard, and said it properly. \"I love you.\"\n\n\"My heart is yours,\" he replied. And then, a shift. \"We should—I hear people. Someone's coming. We might be missed.\"\n\n\"Oop!\" So much for holding on to the moment. She wriggled back into her bra, grabbed a shirt, felt for the top collar and the inner seams, and began buttoning.\n\nThey scrambled to get dressed in the pitch blackness, occasionally pausing to kiss again.\n\nShe had never felt this before, this particular sense of happiness, of having eaten so much of a meal that she was bursting; it almost hurt.\n\nThey muddled through the darkness, fumbling their way to the tent flap and snaking out, straightening each other's tuxedos in the dim lantern light of the park.\n\n\"Sophie,\" Garland said. \"Does... is romantic love not much valued on Erstwhile?\"\n\nShe broke into a smile. \"Ha! I'm gonna read you Pride and Prejudice.\"\n\nHe seemed to understand her meaning. \"We should seek our classmates.\"\n\n\"Guess we passed the intimacy exam, huh?\"\n\n\"I'm sure if we consulted them, they'd find fault with our technique.\"\n\n\"Well, we can practice.\"\n\n\"Indeed we can.\" He offered her his arm and they went back to the troublemaker version of the couples class, their skin cooling in the winter air.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "I've got writer's block. I'll send something, then continue one hundred and seventy-four sentences at a time, matching character context, in fantasy, pirates genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SOFE,\n\nYES, I'M OKAY. I LIKED DAIMON A LOT, AND OBVIOUSLY I'M SHOCKED AND UPSET THAT HE'S DEAD. BUT I'M NOT INCAPACITATED, SO TRY NOT TO WORRY.\n\nI THINK I HAVE ID'D THE ERSTWHILER WHO HELPED JOHN COINE. HE'S A FRIEND OF BEATRICE'S STEPSON... HE CAME THROUGH HER HOSPICE WITH MENINGIOMA WHEN HE WAS 12 AND HAD A MIRACULOUS TURNAROUND—MAGIC, I'M THINKING. THEN HE POPPED UP A COUPLE YEARS LATER AND BEFRIENDED SHAD.\n\nDO WE TELL VERENA'S COP FRIEND, FEDONA? IT MIGHT BE BAD FOR BEATRICE, IF SHE'S BEEN CURING HOSPICE KIDS MAGICALLY. AND WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE WRACKERS WILL DO TO HIM.\n\nPS—GOT FEDONA'S FINGERPRINT, AS REQUESTED. 80% SURE SHE WASN'T THE ONE WHO BROKE INTO MOM AND DAD'S.\n\nPSS—SPELL ON PARENTS' PLACE USING LEGAL DESCRIPTION DID, IN FACT, WORK.\n\nPSSS—THAT POLICE DETECTIVE, BETTEL, CALLED AGAIN AND ASKED ME WHERE YOU'D GOT TO NOW.\n\nBTW MISS YOU 5\n\nBRAM\n\nThey returned to class and discovered that after sex ed had come dance lessons, a welcome shift to physical activity, conducted in a large communal tent with all the other couples. They crept in, hoping to avoid notice, and found their peers mincing to the music of a quintet of flute players and percussionists. Everyone was clad in white suits the same as those Cly had procured for Sophie and Garland—snow-white slacks, vests, and dress shirts adorned with the crimson beauty queen sashes that proclaimed them engaged.\n\nThe uniformity of the outfits gave the dance a military feel, and although Sophie's shirt kept bunching distractingly at the back, the steps weren't hard to pick up. They were happy to let Garland take lots of breaks, for his feet. It was a definite improvement over being hectored into sharing by the drill sergeant and her mate.\n\nCly met them afterward and gave them a single hair-raising look.\n\nHe can't know, Sophie thought, but all he said was, \"I've heard from your half sister, via that bird. She's sailing here with your first mate, the fellow from Erinth. They met a vessel. Capo. It's possible she'll make the wedding, if winds are fair.\"\n\n\"Heading here?\" Garland raised his eyebrows. \"Perhaps Bettona confessed—exposed her coconspirators.\"\n\n\"If so, why not tell us?\"\n\nCly nodded. \"Garland, you're a man of the Fleet, in your heart if not in name—\"\n\n\"I'll marry him,\" Sophie blurted. \"If you march us to the altar, I will totally vow—\"\n\n\"While that's a lovely sentiment,\" Cly said, \"I was not about to appeal to your lover to break your engagement.\"\n\nLover? Seas, he does know. How does he know?\n\nGarland, far from being chagrined, lit up.\n\n\"I truly despair of you both.\" Cly strode up to a driver with a team of tubby and tired-looking palomino mares and a sagging carriage that bore, Sophie saw, the Fleet judiciary drapes. \"Where is my driver? Where's Latasha?\"\n\n\"Family emergency, Your Honor.\"\n\n\"This is the best you can muster?\"\n\nThe coachman waved at the crush of coach-and-fours. \"Short supply tonight.\"\n\n\"We're bound for Innobel.\"\n\n\"Kir? Did you say—\"\n\n\"Get on with it! Take the civil access lane and turn left at the park exit; I expect you to bypass the usual impromptu parade.\" With a huff, Cly yanked open the door.\n\nThey piled inside. Garland took the rear-facing seat and Sophie moved to follow, but Cly caught her arm, directing her to the seat across. She resisted, as a matter of course, and so he outmaneuvered her, planting himself next to Garland and leaving her across from them both.\n\nIt was a position that combined the worst aspects of a job interview, a visit to the principal's office, and a blind date.\n\n\"So!\" she blurted, before anyone else could introduce some fun topic of conversation, like premarital sex. \"We uncover Kev's scheme and Cly gives up the project of claiming him for torture. That's the deal, right?\"\n\nCly nodded curtly. \"Parrish, you understand the politics in play here. The frightmaker and his cronies are involved with Lidman, yes? What might they be trying to accomplish here on Sylvanna?\"\n\n\"Causing trouble internationally,\" Sophie said. \"Causing incidents that will lead to conflict.\"\n\n\"There are those who believe the Cessation is doomed,\" Garland said, running a finger inside his shirt collar to settle it, stretching his neck. \"That sooner or later the port and starboard sides of the government will break, probably over slavery, and there will be a resumption of hostilities over the question of bondage.\"\n\nThe tension eased as they once again ran through the pas de deux of international incidents so far. Kev and his friends raiding and sinking slaver ships in an apparent strike against the bonded nations. Aunt Gale's murder, before that—a blow to the Verdanii, intensified now that the Allmother was ill.\n\nNone of that seemed sufficiently incendiary.\n\nSophie said. \"It takes drama to start a war. Theater.\"\n\n\"Agreed. And so they moved on to sinking Constitution.\" Cly gave her a pleased look, almost as though he'd invented her. \"Several times now, the parties who desire war have been balked by your intervention in their intrigues. You solved the murder of your aunt, then disrupted the attempt to disarm Temperance and spark conflict between Ualtar and Tiladene.\"\n\n\"Bully for me, but now they're on to plan C. How does Kev figure in?\"\n\n\"He murdered slavers and is now himself a slave. I suppose one might make of him... something in the way of a martyr,\" Cly said.\n\n\"He knows his so-called allies were undercover spies. Why is he still cooperating with them?\"\n\n\"He's under threat,\" Garland said promptly. \"He is demonstrably more afraid of what they can do to him than he is of you... either of you, Your Honor.\"\n\n\"Well, if they've got the stick,\" Sophie said, \"we'll have to be the carrot.\"\n\nCly looked baffled.\n\n\"In order to get Kev to tell us what's up, we have to convince him we can protect him. Not only free him, you see? We have to get him somewhere beyond the conspirators' reach.\"\n\nCly said, \"Where could a man like that go?\"\n\n\"You're the locals. You tell me.\"\n\n\"Parrish?\" Cly said. \"Perhaps a certain island locale...\"\n\nGarland looked wary. \"It would be entirely wrong to claim such a place existed, particularly in the presence of someone such as Your Honor.\"\n\n\"Sophie's taken the Oath as well, remember. But if Lidman is to disappear beyond the reach of the conspirators, I fear we must speak of Nysa.\"\n\n\"Nysa is a myth,\" Garland said.\n\nSophie added this up. \"You're telling me there's an island inhabited by escaped slaves.\"\n\n\"There's a story of such a place,\" Cly corrected.\n\n\"Right, right. Because it would be wrong for us oathy types to admit to knowing of its existence.\" It had been a long night, but the doublethink didn't seem as onerous as it usually did. Brimming as she was with happiness, it almost felt like play.\n\nThe men kept fencing, Garland making noises about how hard it might be to get someone like Kev to the fabled haven—the challenge of finding a ship willing to bear him, the risk to that ship and its crew from the immolator.\n\n\"But surely, you, Parrish— Ah. Forgive me. I forgot momentarily that your Nightjar was lost.\"\n\nSophie squeezed Garland's hand. \"I'm guessing the islanders, if they did in fact exist, wouldn't want anyone following Kev to their location anyway.\"\n\n\"Good point,\" said Cly. \"Simply discovering Nysa might bring us closer to war, unless...\"\n\n\"Unless?\"\n\n\"Unless something convinces the portside that it cannot prevail in a battle.\"\n\nSophie blinked. \"Did I hear that right?\"\n\n\"If the nations of the Fleet remain on the edge of war for long enough,\" Cly said, \"some pretext for hostilities will inevitably be found.\"\n\n\"True,\" Garland agreed. \"If the Cessation does break, we will return to an age of raiding and small alliances. The seas won't be safe, and the little nations... it's not exaggerating to say many would be annihilated. It's why Gale dedicated her life to the peace.\"\n\n\"Dumping water on sparks,\" Cly said. \"As Sophie has been, since she arrived.\"\n\n\"You want to build a firebreak? You, Cly? Why?\"\n\n\"Imagine the Cessation breaking tomorrow,\" Cly said. \"I would be called home. I would be tasked, probably, with leading the invasion of Haversham.\"\n\n\"But what? You'd rather not?\"\n\n\"I do not believe the portside can survive, no matter how much damage it inflicts in a war.\"\n\n\"Don't pick fights you can't win, in other words?\"\n\n\"You'd rather I was an idealist than a pragmatist.\" It wasn't a question.\n\nI'd settle for trustworthy. If any part of it could be believed... but before she could speak, the coach jerked to a halt.\n\nThey had been traveling through ever-scabbier neighborhoods, and now they were parked before a low hut on the edge of what was clearly a poverty-stricken little village.\n\n\"Innobel, Kirs,\" the driver called.\n\n\"Why are we here?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"I want you to meet someone.\"\n\n\"Who?\" She stepped down, letting Cly walk her to the house.\n\nHe knocked quietly. \"Pinna, sella Cly.\"\n\nA rustle, and the door creaked open.\n\nInside was a woman of about fifty years, fair-haired and blue-eyed, bearing the scar of a bangle that had been burned off. Beaming, she hugged Cly, letting out a flood of Sylvanner.\n\nHe replied, \"Fas Sophie, ella dottar per ne Beatrice.\"\n\nThe woman cried out in delight, seizing Sophie's hands.\n\n\"Who's this?\"\n\n\"Sophie,\" Cly said, \"this is your aunt, Pinna.\"\n\nSophie let out a long rush of air, goggling from one to the other. \"Aunt? Aunt?\"\n\nThe woman urged her to sit.\n\nAn aunt who'd been a slave. Sophie had accused Cly of raping his slaves, but... \"Your father?\"\n\n\"It is a source of considerable shame and embarrassment. I'd wanted to wait, before burdening you.\"\n\nHer stomach burned. So it's Grandpa who was the rapist. This finding out about your heritage thing gets more fun by the minute.\n\nPinna still had her by the hands.\n\nSophie tried out a smile. \"Do you speak... Fleet?\"\n\n\"Little.\"\n\nShe turned to Cly. \"Ask her—\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" he said. \"I shan't have you bursting in on me in court in six months' time, accusing me of deliberately botching the translation and thereby influencing your conversation.\" With that he walked off, head high, all but whistling.\n\nSmug bastard. But... aunt. Freed slave aunt! She'd been trying to speak to one of the bonded since she learned Sylvanna was a slave nation.\n\nShe looked at Pinna. She was younger than Cly, by perhaps as much as a decade.\n\n\"May I?\" She indicated the room and got a go-ahead.\n\nThe shack had nothing to mark its exterior or make it a target—unlike freeborn Sylvanners, these people didn't emblazon their status on their doors. The outside had been shingled in drab brown wood, but within the house itself everything was in first-rate repair and there were plenty of creature comforts. Pinna's kitchen table was made of a plain-looking hardwood that Sophie recognized as quite fine, and her fireplace was compact and well made. The table was piled with accounting ledgers—she had paying work, then—and there was a pot of herbs from a doctor.\n\nMedicine... I bet the freed don't all get that.\n\nPinna was waiting for Sophie to complete her inspection of the place, murmuring \"Zophie, Zsssophie,\" to herself.\n\nSophie was about to turn back to her when her eye lit on a page, tucked under some of the other papers, marked with symbols like hieroglyphs.\n\n\"I've seen these before.\"\n\n\"In my kindling bin?\" Garland had taken a seat near the window, taking the weight off his feet and fiddling with the cuff of his shirt.\n\nHe didn't add When you were rifling through my quarters?, but she blushed anyway.\n\n\"Yes. But also on—\"\n\nHe glanced out the window, seeming to assess how far away Cly had gotten, then spoke so quietly she almost found herself straining to hear. \"They're called pictals. Pictal is the written language of the bonded.\"\n\n\"Why were you writing in it?\"\n\n\"I hoped to ask a friend if Kev and his friends were truly acting as their allies.\"\n\n\"A Nysa friend? Why?\"\n\n\"If it's true... well, it makes a difference, doesn't it? If Kev is with them?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nBut for raising her brows at the mention of Nysa, Pinna had waited silently throughout this exchange. Sophie tried out a bow on her, getting a grin in response. \"Um. Me. Cly,\" she said. \"Dottar, patter.\"\n\nThe woman nodded and imitated her moves. \"Pinna, Cly, litteren, y patter.\"\n\n\"Brother and sister, right. Same dad?\"\n\nPinna gestured at two spice shakers on table, indicating they were on same plane, then held a bowl above them. \"Patter.\"\n\n\"Same dad.\"\n\nA nod.\n\nWith gestures and simple words, and occasional resort to Garland's partial knowledge of pictal writing—his familiarity with the symbols seemed to disturb Pinna, but she went with it—they pieced together the story.\n\nCly had apparently freed Pinna, upon his marriage to Beatrice, to his elderly father's considerable displeasure. He'd set her up here and got her into some kind of bookkeeping racket.\n\nPinna shifted one of her ledgers, laying it none too subtly over the pictals. It appeared to be a list of names, jobs, and cash amounts.\n\n\"She does accounting for the freed when they find paying work, looks like.\"\n\nGarland agreed. \"These are records of invoices.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Beatrice,\" Pinna said, tapping the page. \"Beatrice, Beatrice.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 133 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beatrice taught you to write and do figures?\" She mimed the question and got an excited \"Yehyeh!\"\n\nSophie took a deep breath. \"You talk for a sec, Garland.\"\n\nShe left him to query her, using a mix of Sylvanner and Verdanii vocabulary.\n\nSo Cly has at least one sister because his father—my grandfather—was a slave-raping—\n\nThere were no words.\n\nCly was horrified by it. He claimed.\n\nHe did free Pinna.\n\nShe was starting to want, badly, to believe in him.\n\nGarland was showing interest in Pinna's pot of medicine and was getting assurances that her aunt was getting over some minor cold. Cly—sainted Cly, according to her—had ensured that this whole village got regular visits from a physician.\n\nSophie shivered. This is Cly's go-to strategy. Find a woman who adores him, and have them try to bring me around. Like this summer, when he asked Tenner Zita to befriend me.\n\nThe thought felt small, maybe unworthy.\n\nOn the heels of it, she remembered Annela saying One can only fight nature for so long. It was true that people had deep-set behavior patterns. Loops they kept running. Behavioral fingerprints?\n\nThis is an opportunity that may never come again, she reminded herself. We have to ask Pinna the right questions.\n\nWhich were?\n\nBeatrice married Cly? Why?\n\nShe wanted to study at the Institute.\n\nOh.\n\nShe dug out her book of questions, unfolding from its pages Bram's printed copy of the last Beatrice spell.\n\nShe spread it on the table, finding the symbols in the middle, the ones that weren't spellscrip letters. The black fox, the eye with chain links, all written on birch bark in bright green.\n\nPinna's reaction was a horrified gasp. Round-eyed, she glanced at the door.\n\nSo she doesn't trust Cly wholeheartedly, Sophie thought.\n\n\"Beatrice?\" Pinna rasped.\n\n\"Beatrice. Beatrice, this spell, on me. Sophie.\" She circled the symbols again. \"Pictals?\"\n\nThe woman closed the ledger book, her hands shaking, pushing the spell at Sophie and gesturing—Put it away. Get it out of my sight. She paced, fingers to her face, fighting for calm, obviously thinking.\n\nFinally she barred the door, closed her curtains, opened an old-looking umbrella, and withdrew a scroll. Unrolled on the table, it revealed a series of pictals, perhaps five hundred of them, crammed into a table-size space. She laid bowls on its corners to hold it flat, and thought again.\n\nGarland drew in a shocked breath. \"This could be a dictionary of all the pictals commonly used by the bonded. It mustn't fall into slaver hands.\"\n\nPinna had clearly decided the risk was worth the ability to communicate more efficiently.\n\n\"Beatrice,\" she said. She began pointing at pictals, one after another. Point. Point. Point.\n\nGarland said. \"Beatrice knowledge books to... I don't recognize... oh. Beatrice taught her to read and write in Sylvanner.\"\n\nThen: \"Beatrice.\" Point, point, point.\n\n\"Open gift... discovered inscription bonded. I'm not—\"\n\n\"Beatrice learned that pictals could be used in inscriptions,\" Sophie said.\n\nGarland looked profoundly uneasy now. \"If the bonded were found to be writing any spells—never mind if they were able to write intentions unknown to Fleet mages or the Spellscrip Institute... Seas, the portside nations would...\"\n\n\"Overreact. Freak out?\"\n\n\"There would be slaughters.\"\n\nPinna was picking out words at a feverish pace.\n\nBack in the day, Beatrice had wanted to study inscription, but the Verdanii hadn't thought her talented enough. She'd gotten engaged to Cly, defying her family, and had come to study at the Sylvanna Spellscrip Institute.\n\nAt some point, another of the bonded women on Cly's estate had offered her a straight-up swap: the slave got to learn the same things Beatrice was learning at the Institute, and Beatrice learned pictal inscription techniques.\n\nPinna had found out.\n\nPinna understood what that other, younger slave had not: if it came out that the bonded had any access to magic, let alone to spells the Institute didn't understand or control, there would be executions and purges.\n\n\"She was terrified,\" Garland said, following along as Pinna continued to point out pictals. \"Beatrice vowed quiet—she promised to keep the secret. Then...\"\n\nHe frowned, then touched a series of pictals, essentially repeating what Pinna had just said, asking her something.\n\nShe nodded vehemently, and he pointed at Sophie's book of questions, at the scroll. \"Yehyeh!\" she said.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"There was nothing Pinna could do about Beatrice having learned that the bonded were practicing inscription. They had to trust that she would keep the secret. But she had the other girl—\"\n\n\"The one who spilled the beans?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Pinna had her teach Beatrice an inscription. The one...\"\n\n\"The one she worked on me.\"\n\n\"They told her it would strengthen their bond, hers and His Honor's. She appears to have sold Beatrice on the spell by indicating that it would give your father the strength to free Pinna before the wedding.\"\n\n\"Right!\" she said. \"So Beatrice misunderstood what the spell did because Pinna lied.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Garland said.\n\n\"What does it actually do?\" She raised the notebook, giving Pinna a pleading look.\n\n\"Cly,\" Pinna said, and took up the spice shakers she'd used earlier to represent him and his father. She put Grandpa's shaker atop Cly's, pressing, then tapped her scar, where the bangle had been.\n\n\"Cly had been under his father's thumb?\"\n\nPinna seemed to understand that she'd got this. She held out her hands at the same height and said, \"We balance. Inscription balance. Cly bound fire fear, Cly bound obey rules. We—Beatrice, make Cly to follow nature inside rules. No worries patter feeling.\"\n\nShe tapped a pictal that looked like a Möbius strip.\n\n\"It means twisting, reversal,\" Garland said.\n\n\"I see it. The spell without the pictal makes you love your family unreservedly—you consider your parents' every whim and wish. You put them first. It's a guilt trip on steroids. Reversed, you do exactly as you please, without regard to what anyone else wants?\"\n\n\"He sails his own wind, wherever it's inclined,\" Garland said. \"He's like you.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"In that you follow your own nature.\"\n\nShe swallowed. This had a ring of truth. She'd spent her life diving, swimming, caving, putting herself at risk, and never quite giving in to her parents' distress over it all. Hard-hearted, Dad had called her once, when he thought she couldn't overhear.\n\nIt had hurt, but she hadn't changed.\n\n\"It frees you,\" Garland said. \"Breaks the bonds of obligation, guilt, national pride. Sets you asea with nothing but your own judgment for breeze.\"\n\n\"Yeah, okay, but Cly wasn't cut free of anything at the time when Sicko Grandpa sent him to the Fleet. Sent him single, against Sylvanner custom. He came back with a Verdanii fiancée and everyone pretended to be unhappy with the arrangement.\"\n\n\"Meaning?\"\n\n\"If his will was still shackled when he married Beatrice, it means the Bannings ordered him to marry into the Nine Families.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Same reason as the pirates. To get an eragliding daughter.\"\n\nWhich he did, but then Beatrice extricated him from Daddy's influence. He freed Pinna—\n\nThat would have been his own choice, then, she thought.\n\n\"Beatrice, Clydon...\" Pinna still had something to say. She pointed at crossed swords.\n\n\"They kept fighting,\" Sophie said. Magically altering Cly hadn't kept him and Beatrice from clashing. Pregnant, with no option for divorce, Beatrice had run off to Erstwhile.\n\n\"His Honor's coming,\" Garland said.\n\nPinna rolled up her Ouija board dictionary, stashed it in the umbrella again, and unbarred the door, busying herself making tea and creating the illusion of a nice visit.\n\n\"One more question, please.\"\n\nAn agonized glance.\n\n\"His Honor is returning. We have, perhaps, a minute,\" said Garland.\n\n\"Cly,\" Sophie said. \"As a kid—\" She held her hand low. \"Little Cly. He set fires.\"\n\nDammit, what to say? \"Cly, Cly,\" she repeated, and then stuck a piece of kindling in the blaze.\n\n\"Ah!\" Pinna's face cleared. She glanced at the door, then handed Sophie a wafer of coarse brown paper and a bit of brown rope. \"Cly—\" She mimed tossing them in the fire. \"Patter—\" Now a mime of fury. Last, she touched her bangle scar.\n\n\"Hemp,\" Garland said. \"Bonding inscriptions. He was burning bonding inscriptions. Perhaps looking for Pinna's?\"\n\n\"They scribed him to make him stop?\"\n\nHe'd been rebelling, and they'd made him pyrophobic. Later, they'd scribed him again, made him obedient, gave him his marching orders, and sent him to Fleet.\n\nA rap at the door. \"May I come in? Pinna?\"\n\n\"Yehyeh.\"\n\nHe stuck his head inside. \"If you're done, child, we should get back to the rooms before it's light.\"\n\nSneak into the slum while it's dark; get out before you're seen.\n\nBut there was nothing more they could ask Pinna with Cly present. Sophie glanced at Garland. He was smiling at her in a keen-eyed and appreciative way that felt immensely flattering.\n\nShe gave Pinna a hug, and Pinna returned it wholeheartedly; her aunt's grip was strong. Then Sophie followed Garland back out to their creaky jalopy of a carriage, with its pudgy, exhausted-looking team and a driver whose expression said he wanted to be anywhere else.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "help with this chapter? eighty-six sentences more sentences, A. M. Dellamonica-style, fantasy, pirates genre. some context might be from earlier", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly lagged for a second to say a few last words to Pinna, to hand her a few gifts, all of which left Sophie free to cuddle in beside Garland on the rear-facing seats. His cuff had popped its button again; she refastened it, a tricky task. It was a nice excuse to touch him, to fuss a little and take in his skin, the graceful proportions of his hand. To stop thinking about the political ecosystem of Stormwrack and just feel a little lovestruck.\n\n\"I know you,\" she whispered, and she felt a jolt in him, an intake of breath, like a gasp or chuckle.\n\nA cough: Cly's way of warning them before he swung in, ducking hard to avoid the roof, and settled with a scowl equally intended, she thought, for the carriage's overall scruffiness and for her indecent daughter behavior.\n\nJust for that, she declined to let go of Garland's hand.\n\nThey got under way with a jerk.\n\n\"Well?\" He sounded tired.\n\nWas he? Or was it a ruse? She took him in, boots to crown. Not a hair out of place, sash with its status signifiers glimmering and perfect.\n\n\"Does this change anything?\" he said.\n\n\"I'm thinking.\" She wanted it to, wanted it to very badly indeed.\n\nThe city was above them, up the long, winding road. She could see the lights, and the blue-edged shadows of the mountains. Somewhere east of them, dawn was breaking.\n\nThe carriage jolted over a bump. She heard the driver trying to soothe the horses with a murmur.\n\nShe began, \"Seems like you're asking me to believe you're against slavery. Not just cocktail-chatter, Ooh, I'm such a dangerous liberal, ha-ha, give me another shrimp against, but working against.\"\n\n\"I would never say that,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"My position, within Fleet and out, would be precarious if I were to take a formal position against bondage.\" He frowned as they lurched again. \"Without my privileges as a landowner, I cannot be effective.\"\n\n\"You do like your privileges.\"\n\n\"Show me someone who doesn't.\" Cly steepled his fingers. \"You know Fralienne Erminne has entered politics. She is an abolitionist. If Sylvanna's laws were to change, we would take other nations with us. Other votes within the Convene.\"\n\n\"Just like that?\"\n\n\"Over the years, we have cultivated certain international relationships. There are nations in the Convene who owe us favors. Their votes would travel with us.\"\n\n\"You have an international voting bloc?\"\n\nGarland nodded, confirming this. \"What truly matters is the military imbalance. As Annela Gracechild has recently reminded me, no alliance of pirates and rabble can stand against Verdanii and Sylvanna united.\"\n\n\"But why, Cly? Why do you care?\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Is it that you're a stealth peacenik? Is it Pinna? Are you besotted with Beatrice, after all these years?\"\n\nThat got a bark of laughter.\n\n\"Are you just kicking dirt on your father's memory?\" she continued.\n\n\"Tormenting your elders is your brand of perversity, child.\"\n\n\"Tormenting. Really?\" What am I doing? She should be happy, no matter his motives. A Cly even somewhat committed to abolition was a vastly cheerier prospect than a contented slave-owning bastard. \"Why do you care?\"\n\n\"It's complicated.\"\n\n\"It shouldn't be.\"\n\n\"Nudging Sylvanna onto a better path is the best possible outcome for a potentially appalling conflict—\"\n\n\"That's just pragmatism.\"\n\n\"Well, yes.\" Cly waved his hand in dismissal. \"Kev Lidman must be stopped, Sophie.\"\n\n\"He's locked up and pacified. He's pretty stopped.\"\n\n\"Lidman is connected to your conspiracy. He or his allies are gaming with you.\"\n\nIt was true. But Kev seemed completely depressed half the time and scared to death the rest of it. None of which had shaken the truth from him.\n\nThe carriage jolted sideways. Cly rapped at the sliding panel between carriage and driver, barking out orders in Sylvanner like a drill sergeant.\n\nNo answer.\n\nCly frowned, and tried the panel. It didn't slide.\n\n\"Use this.\" Garland produced a thin knife, about nine inches long. Cly used it to pry the panel off.\n\nTheir driver was gone.\n\nGarland and Cly, on either side of Sophie, opened the carriage doors without hesitating.\n\nThey were picking up speed. One of the mares began to make a sound, a jittery, agonized whining that rose and fell. EeeEEEeeeEEE!\n\nThe horses' backs and flanks were ballooning, rippling in peculiar ways, as if something under the skin was trying to get out.\n\n\"Frights,\" Sophie said. \"The stolen horsehair sample. Frights.\"\n\n\"We must cut the team loose,\" Cly said.\n\n\"We'll lose the road,\" Garland pointed out.\n\nCly leaned far out of the carriage, looking up and down the mountain. Scanning for other threats?\n\n\"We should jump while we're running uphill,\" Garland said. \"Otherwise the horses will get up more speed. And up ahead, at that switchback...\"\n\nEeeEEEEeeee!\n\n\"We'll crash,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"You first,\" both men said.\n\nThere was no time to argue. She clambered over Garland to get to the door, picked what she hoped was a soft-looking ditch, and sprang.\n\nIt wasn't soft. She hit a sapling and pulverized it, rolling over the tree. As pain radiated out from her shoulder and hip, she heard the clock again.\n\nTick, tick, tick. For the barest of moments, she thought she could see, of all things, a view of the Tower of London. Then she staggered to her feet, before she'd even recovered her equilibrium.\n\n\"Garland! Cly!\" She limped uphill, her first steps unsteady as she broke into a drunken trot, then an actual run.\n\nThe horses hurtled uphill, screaming.\n\nSun broke over the ridge, brighter than everything, blinding her. A shadow seemed to leap from the carriage. Wishful thinking? Spots in her eyes?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was squinting and half-blind when the carriage tilted to one side and plunged off the road with a horrifying sound—things breaking, splintering, and inhuman shrieks.\n\n\"Sophie?\" She'd caught up to the shadow. Cly. He had a smear of dirt on his shoulder and was holding his saber in his left hand.\n\n\"You pop those stitches again?\"\n\n\"I'm well enough,\" he said. \"You?\"\n\n\"Yeah, same.\"\n\n\"I should have switched carriages as soon as the replacement driver showed up.\" He scooped a small dagger off the ground. \"Parrish! Parrish, are you there?\"\n\nThe hair-raising screams of the horses were loud enough to drown out anything.\n\n\"Stay back, child,\" Cly said.\n\nShe ignored him; she'd spotted Garland.\n\nHe had jumped or fallen clear of the carriage maybe fifty feet before it went off the road. From the looks of things, he'd cracked his head on something—his face was bloodied.\n\n\"Breathing?\" Cly asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, hoping it was true.\n\n\"Wait here.\" He strode past her, toward the orgy of thrashing hooves and breaking wood.\n\nSophie rolled Garland carefully, feeling his skull, guessing whether anything was broken. His shirtsleeve had burst at the shoulder seams. I know his middle name; I can have him cured if I need to. He's alive, he's alive...\n\nShe didn't even have a handkerchief to wipe his face, or a rope to hoist him up into the relative safety of the trees. If the thing tearing its way out of the horse took out Cly, they were dead.\n\n\"Garland,\" she said. \"You have to wake up. Please, wake up.\"\n\nHis eyes opened.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" he asked.\n\n\"Am I hurt? Teeth! Can you move?\"\n\nThe shrieks culminated in a sustained equine wail of agony and then a wet ripping noise that made her wish she was deaf. Cly backed into view. The horse followed, staggering. Backlit by the morning sun, they were both silhouettes. The mare was two-headed and gouting blood. Its horse head dangled, limp, almost dragging on the ground.\n\nThe raised head of the creature within, the one shedding the body of the horse in bloody hunks, had a familiar shape. A cat?\n\nMarsupial lion, Sophie decided, with tabby fur. This would account for the cat hair, the cat claws, the stolen braid of horse hair...\n\nCly ran at it, bellowing, saber extended. It had just shaken a paw clear of the horse before it was impaled.\n\nThe creature sprang upward, jerking Cly with it like a toy. The saber fell, and Cly went with it. He rolled as the cat swiped a paw at him. Its rear haunches were tangled in the corpse of the horse, like feet caught in a dropped pair of jeans, but otherwise it was free. Cly retrieved his blade and stabbed again, grunting with the effort of shoving the blade home.\n\nMy birth father, the killing machine. The thought had bloody edges. Was this what going mad with fear felt like?\n\nAs Cly pulled his sword free and retreated backwards, the oddity considered him, lifting a paw. A massive, flame-eyed mouser, slick with blood.\n\nCly did not give it time to disentangle its back legs, instead darting in to chop at the thick wrist with the big, throat-cutting claws. The cat sprang sideways, trying to make room for an attack, and Cly followed.\n\nSophie scrabbled on the ground for whatever she could grab up and throw. Her first stone went wide, but she hit the cat in its flank with a second. The fright roared, turning to face her.\n\nA mistake. The long stonewood blade cut an arc through the air, scything into the fright's belly. The lion lashed out, catching Cly with the back of one big claw, and the two of them tumbled to the road.\n\nCly leaped up, wobbling a bit, but ready for another attack. The creature shuddered, gouting blood. Then it was still. After an endless minute with his blade raised, Cly checked the other horses, one by one.\n\nSophie spun, focusing on Garland, helping him to sit.\n\n\"There, there,\" Cly murmured. A hoarse panting sound she had barely registered earlier turned into a sigh, then petered out. A keening whinny rose and was cut short. \"What a waste.\"\n\nWhen she could bear to look, he was cleaning his blade.\n\n\"You're both all right?\"\n\nSophie nodded.\n\n\"Yes,\" Garland said, getting carefully to his feet. \"You?\"\n\n\"Yes. That could have gotten ugly,\" he observed. \"It's well we'd headed out of town. If the carriage hadn't gone off the road and the oddity had got free of the mare faster, we'd have had much more trouble.\"\n\nGarland nodded, as though this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say when they were standing over the remains of a carriage and horses. Reminds me of that Sigourney Weaver movie, Sophie thought, and her eye fell on the stomach-turning remnants. Alien, that was it.\n\n\"Birth stuff,\" she said. Her voice sounded calm, too. Maybe it was chill-out hour in crazyland. \"Another fright spell. I figure it used that braid of lion hair stolen from Exhibits.\"\n\n\"The same spellscribe?\" Garland seemed dubious.\n\n\"Few could muster the requisite hard-heartedness to do this,\" Cly said. \"And given the effort to stamp frightmaking out...\" He indicated the mess behind them. \"It does suggest a specialist.\"\n\n\"Because people follow certain patterns,\" she said, remembering her earlier thought about Cly and Pinna. Find a woman, get her to argue his case.\n\nShe remembered Kev, apparently offended: I'm not the frightmaker.\n\nThe frightmaker. Someone specific; someone he knew.\n\n\"That,\" Cly agreed. \"Besides, how many different spellscribes are likely to be after us right now?\"\n\nOn that happy note, they began the trudge up the switchbacks to the city.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The exercise of the uphill climb, and her worry that Garland's injured feet weren't up to the march, were welcome distractions from the gory scene they were leaving behind.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 64 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The farther they got, the more she wanted to cry.\n\nAfter an hour, a cart filled with firewood came toiling up the incline. Cly commandeered it, settling Sophie on the logs first, then Garland after her. Its owners seemed perfectly content to switch over to hiking as her birth father took up the reins.\n\n\"We'll be on the edge of the city in a quarter hour,\" Cly said. \"I'll send a fast cab after them and they'll barely have lost any time at all.\"\n\nShe was too tired to question whether this was true, but it turned out to be; they pulled up to a stable on the edge of the city and Cly dispatched someone to fetch their benefactors.\n\nHe favored them with a wry grin. \"Dare we risk another carriage hire?\"\n\n\"Pick the skinniest horses,\" Sophie said. \"Remember how fat the mare was?\"\n\n\"Indeed. A spell like that one takes time to gestate.\"\n\nShe tried to work out how long they had been at Pinna's. \"Would we have been back at the Mancellor, if not for the side trip?\"\n\n\"Unlikely,\" Cly said. \"With so many carriages, the main route through Hoarfrost becomes impossibly congested. People line the streets to throw grass wreaths at the betrothed.\"\n\n\"So the fright would've burst out into a crowd,\" Sophie said. \"Do you think a slaughter on National Sex Ed Day would be good for interisland tensions?\"\n\n\"Frivolous question,\" Cly said, choosing a carriage with a distinctly bony-looking set of pintos.\n\nShe flopped back into position inside—the carriage was just about identical to the one they'd wrecked—and the men crowded in with her. If you ignored the bloodstains and mud painted across their snow-white party garments, they were more or less back where they'd started.\n\n\"This provides new avenues of investigation,\" she said. \"We can look into whoever arranged for the carriages to get switched.\"\n\n\"Lidman remains at the heart of this,\" Cly said. \"We need to discover where his accomplices are.\"\n\n\"He has to have been in touch with them, don't you think? Since he got off Docket.\"\n\n\"The spellscribe was on Nightjar?\" Garland said.\n\n\"Something made Kev believe his allies would come and get him.\"\n\nHe nodded, conceding the point with obvious reluctance. \"I'd taken on new crew since Gale died. I can't vouch for everyone. I've generally been lucky—\"\n\n\"I'm sure you are an excellent judge of character,\" Cly said, in that tone that left it open as to whether he meant it or was being condescending.\n\n\"There were four whom I don't know well.\"\n\n\"We can see what they've been up to since landfall,\" Cly said.\n\n\"I released them from their contracts. They might be difficult to trace.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Sophie said. \"Here's our next move...\"\n\nAfter she explained, they fell silent, watching the city bustle with early morning work crews, slaves stringing banners between the trees, gauzy strips alight with tiny pinpricks that winked like stars. Lanterns depicting the various phases of the moon were erected on stakes in the public squares and the middle of intersections; kindling and small chunks of wood were piled at their bases.\n\n\"Burning the moon,\" Cly said. \"It's part of the High Winter Festival. Children attempt to stay up all night to greet the new year. It's a significant accomplishment when one is old enough to hold out against sleep on the longest night.\"\n\nFestival preparations. Sophie's eyes met Garland's. Would Cly march them to the altar on the solstice? There was no way to ask.\n\nGarland was smiling, and she sensed he was remembering the two of them in that little catering tent. Damn it, now she was smiling, too.\n\nDon't laugh, don't giggle, think about the killing machine over there...\n\nCly was looking over the construction work on the bonfires. Giving them a moment, or merely lost in thought?\n\nShe owed her life to the killing machine, twice over. It was hypocritical to label him a serial killer, on no evidence, while benefiting from his skill set.\n\nThat's not about you, Sofe, her brother's voice said. It's about Stormwrack being a violent and insane place.\n\nShe missed Bram so much it hurt.\n\nFive violent and insane, she thought. \"I'm going to free Kev,\" she announced. \"Anything else—transferring him, selling him—\"\n\n\"Having him killed?\" Cly suggested.\n\n\"Is basically owning up to owning him.\"\n\n\"We'd better work out what he's up to, then, hadn't we?\"\n\nThey were almost back to the hotel district. \"I'll get right on that,\" she said. \"Can you have the driver stop at the Black Fox?\"\n\n\"I'd ask you to change first, if you don't mind,\" Cly said.\n\n\"I know we're a mess, but what happened to 'Hurry up and crack the case'?\"\n\nCly's lips curled. \"The two of you,\" he said, speaking with almost Garlandlike precision in his diction, \"are wearing each other's shirts.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Provide sixty-two sentences as a continuation of this story segment in the fantasy, pirates genre. Characters may be pre-established.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Later—after—they did catch a few hours of sleep.\n\nShe found herself stirring at just around noon, awakened from a dream of Verena's voice that turned out to actually be Verena, muffled by a closed door and speaking again through the bird.\n\n\"... always had this idea of what my life would be, you know? And it was Gale's life, sort of. You and me and Nightjar and all the intrigues. Now everything's changed. Gale's gone and the ship's sunk—\"\n\nSophie felt a triple punch of guilt. One on the chin, for getting Nightjar sunk, one in the gut, for her half sister's heartbreak. Plus a third, for eavesdropping.\n\nShe glanced around the bedroom. No way out that wouldn't take her past Garland. She toyed with putting a pillow over her head.\n\nGarland answered, sotto voce, \"I always thought that, too.\"\n\n\"You did?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" he said. \"It's what we made provision for. Gale and I talked of it, often. How it would be, where I would take you. Verena, you must see that but for the romantic question—\"\n\n\"The tiny matter of the romantic question,\" she said, but Sophie was relieved to hear a thread of humor in her sister's voice.\n\n\"Aside from that tiny matter, are we not together? Sailing? Amid the intrigue?\"\n\nThere was a long silence. \"Yeah, we are. Of course we are. And speaking of romantic matters, I should go do you guys that favor.\"\n\nThere was a whistle, and then Garland crept back into the room, holding the bird on his arm. His bare feet were looking a little pink and peeled, but there'd been a lot of healing. He was walking normally.\n\nHe hesitated when he saw that her eyes were open.\n\n\"Sorry,\" she said. \"I heard the tail end of that.\"\n\n\"No harm done,\" he said, giving her a quick kiss and then, almost before she reached for them, passing over her clothes.\n\n\"What time is it?\"\n\n\"Well past noon.\"\n\nA sound, outside: Cly returning.\n\nHe made a great pretense of hanging his cloak with his back turned, allowing them to imagine he hadn't noticed them emerging from her room together. \"Daimon, it turns out, isn't the real Daimon.\"\n\n\"Is he Smitt?\" Sophie asked. \"One of those last-minute additions to the Incannis crew?\"\n\nCly nodded. \"He must have waylaid Mensalohm's law clerk before the clerk could board Nightjar. The clarionhouse has been in touch with your fingerprint man, Humbrey. There's a body, found asea, that may be the true Daimon Tern. Humbrey is working on proof.\"\n\nThat was what Selwig meant when he'd mentioned Daimon's prints, before he died. He'd been trying to tell her Daimon was an imposter. \"It would have been him, then, collecting the cat claw clippings for the fright spell when we were all aboard Nightjar.\"\n\n\"Yes. The lion fright that attacked us is intended, he claims, to target slaveholders.\"\n\n\"He had access to Kev the whole time he was on Nightjar,\" Sophie groaned. \"No wonder Kev wasn't worried about what I'd do with him. Daimon could just slip into his cabin, toss those red curls of his, and make all kinds of promises. 'Oh, Kev, we'll rescue you...' And you know when it was that Kev got all angry and uncooperative?\"\n\n\"Right after you told him Smitt and Pree had infiltrated his group of liberation activists on behalf of the portside nations,\" Garland said.\n\n\"If we hadn't been in the middle of trying to save Nightjar, he might've told me what was going on.\"\n\n\"Can you prove ill intent on Daimon's part?\" Cly asked. \"He refuses to admit to espionage, or to being an agent of any government.\"\n\n\"He claims to be a true abolitionist?\" Garland asked.\n\nCly nodded. \"He says he's at odds with his own government. They've disavowed knowledge of his activities.\"\n\n\"But he admits he was on Incannis?\"\n\n\"Yes. According to Daimon, Kev was both the scheme's mastermind and, in essence, the ship's captain. He planned to sink the smugglers and liberate the slaves they were carrying—free them and send them to Nysa.\"\n\n\"He said Nysa?\" Garland interrupted.\n\n\"Yes,\" Cly said. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Nobody in league with that island would refer to it by name.\"\n\n\"Incannis was too far from Nysa in any case, wasn't she?\" Sophie said.\n\nGarland looked surprised. \"What makes you think the distance—\"\n\n\"The questions you asked at the weather office on Ylle,\" she said. \"You wanted to know about winds to the far south.\"\n\n\"Incannis could not have been running freed slaves and prisoners to the uncharted seas,\" Cly said. \"Given where she was operating when she attacked my ship, she simply didn't have the time.\"\n\n\"So... Daimon's claiming allies he doesn't even have.\"\n\n\"It's an unconvincing lie,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Only to someone in league with said island,\" Cly said drily. \"The interrogation will continue. He's been inscribed so that he doesn't register physical distress—it's a common spell with spies—but we will learn more.\"\n\nCly's certainty, and the thought of what the Sylvanners might be doing to Daimon even now, made Sophie shudder. \"Let's pull out our bag of Forensic Institute tricks and see if we can dig some truth out of an actual crime scene.\"\n\n\"What scene?\"\n\n\"They bribed a concierge at the Black Fox, to get access to Kev,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Cly said. \"He's fled.\"\n\n\"But they couldn't have removed Kev from the hotel without us noticing,\" she continued. \"So I'm guessing Smitt's got a room there.\"\n\nThey landed on the slaver hotel like a hammer. Daimon had indeed had a suite, and the desk clerk was happy to take them up.\n\nThe space had been converted into a magical workshop.\n\nCly glanced at the pots of ink, the sheets of vellum, a clay pot filled with robins' eggs, and a flask that appeared to hold blood. There was a catalog of ingredients and a makeshift writing table crammed beside the bed.\n\n\"Send to the Spellscrip Institute immediately,\" he said to the clerk. \"We need the Winter Mage or a first-tier apprentice.\"\n\nThe clerk was openmouthed. \"I had no idea Master Smitt practiced inscription.\"\n\n\"He'd been here before?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Many times. I thought him a master cobbler.\" With a bow, he left them.\n\nSophie handed Cly and Garland each a pair of cotton gloves. \"Go through a pile. Tell me everything you find; I'll write it down.\"\n\n\"Red wax,\" Garland replied immediately, carefully peering into the bowls. \"Dried placenta, hooves, and—yes, here's a spoonful of cats' claws.\"\n\n\"Banana claws,\" Sophie said, scribbling madly.\n\n\"Banana?\" Cly asked.\n\n\"The shipboard cat, the one now on Sawtooth,\" Garland said.\n\nCly's lip was curled into a snarl. \"Daimon was the one who inscribed you, Sophie.\"\n\n\"That's circumstantial evidence,\" she said.\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, basically, don't kill him.\"\n\nHe pointed at a stub of burned sealing wax. \"You don't doubt it, do you?\"\n\n\"No. He's totally the frightmaker. I'm just saying it's not proof. Remember proof? Proof in court?\"\n\n\"Burden of proof is a Fleet custom, and naturally I hold it sacrosanct,\" he said softly. \"But here at home, child, I would be within my rights to have him minced.\"\n\nShe swallowed. \"That's all very well, and I'm mad at him too. But if you want to preserve the Cessation, we need to understand the master plan.\"\n\nHe seemed to weigh that: his oath, the peace of the world, or a bit of tasty revenge. \"Fair point.\"\n\nThey continued to search in silence. Then Garland held up a page. \"I believe this is a list of horse names.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"Six.\"\n\nThey turned that over. Animals were easier to inscribe, for a lot of reasons. You could name them yourself, and manage their magical load. If the horses were used to incubate frights, the countryside might become overrun with slaver-hunting lions, like the one that had attacked the three of them. Meanwhile, if Daimon kept claiming to be in league with Nysa, abolitionists would be blamed for any deaths the lions caused.\n\n\"We'll have to have the animals destroyed,\" Cly said.\n\nShe felt a stab of something like despair. Innocent working animals, blameless pawns in a bloody political game. What a waste.\n\nIt didn't feel right. It didn't feel like enough.\n\n\"Puzzle pieces,\" Garland murmured, as if he'd read her mind. \"Not a picture.\"\n\nSophie flipped through her book of questions, running her finger down the list of frightmaking ingredients stolen from the evidence lockup in Fleet. Most of the stuff was accounted for. \"Any sign of a jar of salamander eggs?\"\n\nHead shakes from both men.\n\n\"Cly, what have you found?\" He had moved on to examining a table covered in sheets of stiff-looking, unbleached cardboard. These had been meticulously folded, back and forth, into little accordions.\n\n\"This would be where they had Lidman working,\" he said. \"The materials here resemble those used in the spell that induced my... you called it pyrophobia?\"\n\n\"Right. Influencing the behavior of kids is his specialty,\" she said. \"So. Daimon makes frights over here. Kev sits across from him, writing spells to do something to the Sylvanner kids whose names they've stolen. Probably his go-to: getting them to burn bondage scrolls.\"\n\n\"That's what they wanted with him, then. To have children on the plantations unshackling their slaves while frights roamed the countryside attacking their parents.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Would that start a war, Cly?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 57 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps, if they killed someone prominent.\"\n\nHer eye fell on a spyglass propped against the sill of the window overlooking the courtyard. \"Meanwhile, someone's sitting here making sure we don't head over to the Black Fox and catch them by surprise.\"\n\n\"A third conspirator?\" Cly perked up with typical predatory optimism.\n\n\"Smitt's partner, maybe? Pree.\" She continued to examine the room. \"Where do you sleep? You're working like a crazy person on all these spells. Everyone's jammed in here together, scribing. Kev goes back to his room at night, in case I check on him, but...\" She opened a door. Inside was an alcove, with a mattress and a threadbare blanket. Bending to examine the mattress, she ran her gloved hands over it. One, two, three... inch-by-inch examination... \"Ha!\"\n\nShe held up a single red hair, as long as the stretch from her wrist to her elbow, and tipped in black.\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"The messenger from Isle of Gold.\" She groaned. \"Oh, I'm so dumb. Golders like to face their enemies. She brought me that letter from Brawn. It started with something like 'You see before you all I can share about our spy.' I was reading it and looking her in the face the whole time. She's Pree.\"\n\nThings clicked together. Pree has Verena's build. She could have been the one who broke into Mom and Dad's place.\n\nWhich means I have a photo of her thumbprint on Bram's hard drive at home.\n\nCly scanned the courtyard, using the spyglass. \"So Kev's compatriots are infiltrated by two portside intelligence operatives, one of whom is still at large—\"\n\n\"Daimon's insisting he's against slavery,\" Garland reminded him.\n\nSophie took a step, realized there was no space in which to pace, and instead shut the door to the little sleeping alcove for slaves. \"What if the various hawky nations have caught wind of this plan where Cly and his quasiliberal Sylvanner friends are working with Verdanii to upset the balance in the Convene? To really put a pin in the war they've been all but begging for?\"\n\nCly didn't seem to react. He leaned against the windowsill, posed as casually as a magazine model showing off the crease of his well-cut slacks. He ran a thumb over the pommel of his sword, thinking.\n\n\"The raids on the slaver ships created controversy within Fleet,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Who cares about a bunch of smugglers?\" Sophie said. \"Nobody—it's not enough. So they go for a second set of sinkings, targeting portside merchants, within Fleet, where people can see it happening. Higher profile, plus honest merchants make better victims. All so they can build up to sinking Constitution.\"\n\n\"All of the injured parties on the portside,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Then you just need someone to do the injuring,\" Sophie said. \"Antibondage agitators from the starboard side. Like Kev Lidman, who Daimon's claiming is their mastermind.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" Garland said. \"That's why they entangled him.\"\n\n\"Are you saying Kev's primary value is merely that he's a Haver?\" Cly asked.\n\n\"As everyone's been telling me from day one, where you're from matters a lot here. Kev's no idealistic kid from Tug Island. He's from across the Baste, a citizen of Sylvanna's hated enemy. He really was freeing people... and now, thanks to me, he's here on Sylvanna and lion frights are roaming the hills.\"\n\n\"It's not your—\"\n\n\"No, but it'll play,\" Sophie said. \"Daimon's claiming Kev was the boss of them. He's convicted of sinking slavers. They'll say he got me to bring him here so he could force the local kids to burn their families' slave inscriptions.\"\n\n\"If the Piracy wanted Lidman here,\" Cly said, \"why did Brawn offer to buy him from you?\"\n\n\"Theater,\" she said. \"They knew I'd say no.\"\n\n\"Knew?\"\n\n\"It's my nature, isn't that what you'd say? Willful? Uncooperative?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Cly agreed, but he smiled a little. \"Speaking of willful and uncooperative, I suppose you're going to insist on going through with freeing Kev?\"\n\n\"I have to,\" she said.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"If I don't, you've already got the right to 'mince' him, don't you? At least if I free him he's entitled to due process.\"\n\n\"The result of such an exercise in jurisprudence will merely be another guilty verdict.\"\n\n\"Maybe it shouldn't matter, but even if the difference is he gets another trial, that's a big deal to me. Proof in court and all that.\"\n\n\"It's not the only difference.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"If I simply killed him, you'd be due some financial compensation for property loss.\"\n\n\"Teeth! Yes, Cly, we're totally freeing him.\"\n\nCly let out the gleamiest yet of his gleaming, sharklike grins. \"In that case, dear Sophie, you must go have a fitting for your wedding dress.\"\n\nMomentum got her moving toward the door before the words sank in. \"Wait. I have a wedding dress?\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Ive got a bit of writers block, im gonna send you something then keep it going 47 sentences at a time, also im going for a A. M. Dellamonica sorta thing. heads up - might drop you in mid-story with existing characters", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "It wasn't that Sophie hadn't tried to get Cly to tell her how the mass wedding would go.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Oh, she had asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Repeatedly. At meals, during all the riding to and fro, even first thing on the previous morning, in case there was a chance she'd catch him groggy or off guard.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first couple of times, he'd diverted her with questions about the Kev situation.\n\nThe third, he'd flat-out said, \"I shouldn't like to spoil the surprise.\"\n\nWhich meant, Why help you wriggle out of the trap?\n\nWould they be back at the couples counseling park? In a town hall, or in the equivalent of the high school gymnasium, like a graduation? Was there a temple, a ballroom? He wouldn't say.\n\nThe attack by the lion fright, and Daimon's capture right afterward, triggered a whirlwind of police activity. Local investigators had found the body of Cly's carriage driver, Latasha; she'd been poisoned at home and buried in her backyard. Her replacement, the man who'd picked them up after marriage class and drove the inscribed mare to her death, was still at large. A full-fledged manhunt was on to find both him and the junior concierge who'd sneaked Kev upstairs to work in Daimon's rented room.\n\nThey filled the remaining time until solstice with a peculiar mix of legitimate investigation and wedding preparations. The horses Daimon had inscribed had to be found and euthanized. Letters were prepared for everyone at Cly's estate and for all his acquaintances, announcing the blessed event. A second batch of notes went out to Erefin Salk and the Watch, inquiring about the true identity of Pree, in her guise as a Fleet page. Sophie had to go to a government-sponsored lecture on her responsibilities as a soon to be newly minted legal adult of Sylvanna and a voter. Then she had to attend a second session on the political landscape of Autumn District.\n\nOn the day of the solstice itself, it turned out the Institute had, as a courtesy to Cly, offered one of its own carriages and teams to fetch the Banning party. It was oversize and very round, putting Sophie in mind of the pumpkin carriage from Cinderella.\n\nHer birth father had remanded her that afternoon to the custody of a pair of hotel maids for coiffing and dressing, before announcing that he needed to grab a quick nap—he had been up all night, and then through the morning, once again overseeing Daimon's interrogation.\n\nShe tried to ask the hotel's in-house lady's maid about the wedding ceremony, but she didn't (or wouldn't) speak Fleet and was far too busy clucking over Sophie's short curls and wayward eyebrows—not to mention her refusal to wear body powder—to play pantomime.\n\nAll I have to do is admit we're not really engaged, she thought, with every bite of brush and tweezers.\n\nOnce she was coiffed, plucked, begowned, and released, she'd been sent to collect Kev, who was waiting in the Black Fox, under guard, clad in an apparently ceremonial toga. His wrists were, once again, loosely bound by Selwig's white ribbon.\n\n\"Last chance, Kev,\" she said. \"Anything you want to say to me? Anything I can do to help you?\"\n\nHe shook his head, making a point of tucking himself behind her so he could do an ostentatiously servile perp walk to the pumpkin carriage. The sight of Cly made Kev shrink a little; he wedged himself as far from the judge and his sword as he could, and fished in his robe for a cracker. Crumbs spilled onto the starched-white drape of cotton over his chest as he munched, squirrel style, with his hands bound together. He wore a weary, faraway look.\n\n\"You aren't in pain, are you?\" Sophie asked.\n\nLong-suffering sigh. \"I got into this to free a woman, you know.\"\n\n\"I didn't.\"\n\n\"She belonged to one of my mentors on Tug. Jalea, her name was. For her, I created the bondburning spell. Creating an intention... it was the pinnacle of my spellcrafting career. I could have sought a place in Fleet as an apprentice spell developer. Instead I found Eame and his group, and we hatched a plan. But Eame said, How can we free one person and ignore the rest?\"\n\nSophie nodded.\n\n\"They handled the actual escapes. Getting people away, putting them aboard boats... I never knew who was renaming them. Months passed, and I finished school. I'd gone home to Haversham and Eame kept sending me children's names. For years, I helped from a distance, far from any consequences.\"\n\n\"Did it work? Did... Jalea escape?\" Garland asked.\n\nGhost of a smile. \"Her. Perhaps twenty others.\"\n\n\"It was a good thing,\" Sophie said, shooting Cly a look, before he could make one of his disparaging gestures.\n\nInstead Cly said, \"It is often a personal tie that sets us against the currents of family and nation.\"\n\nOnce they were under way, it was clear from the direction they took that the High Winter Festival, like the summer event she'd attended six months before, would be held at the Spellscrip Institute.\n\nThe Institute carriage bypassed much of the traffic, and soon they were being conducted into a banquet hall within the cored-out mountain. It was an open and perfectly circular chamber, with balconies extended into the Institute's parklands, on one side, and toward the ocean, on the other. The incoming tide roared, pounding black boulders and tidal pools twenty feet below, flinging little drabs of sea foam over the lip of the circle.\n\nMoving inward, under the lip of rock that served as the roof of the chamber, banquet guests found themselves sandwiched between two disks, a floor and ceiling of creamy alabaster, supported by what looked to be enormous pithoi—the big urns used in the ancient world, back home, for shipping goods. Curvy as ancient goddess totems, the urns were decorated in images that celebrated the iconography of winter: bare trees, thin figures, hibernating animals in burrows, travelers in heavy garb, and ships navigating ice-strewn waterways.\n\n\"What do you think?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly asked as she looked around.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Precise word count needed: 'symbolic' × 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's a symbolic representation of a winter storehouse, isn't it?\" Sophie said. \"The hole in the ground where you store excess harvest to get through the darkest, coldest months.\"\n\n\"Less symbolic than you might guess,\" Cly said. \"The stores are real enough.\"\n\n\"It's a working larder?\"\n\n\"Such places are our traditional hedge against a return to the days of war and starvation, when the Havers would raid us across the Butcher's Baste. Our fields were once quite poor for agriculture, before we drained the swamps...\"\n\nHe was dressed in his full Fleet Judicial colors: cape, sword, sash, and gleaming, newly polished boots. Added to this was one accessory she hadn't seen before: a stonewood gauntlet, worked to resemble an alligator. It ran from his forearm to just beneath his left hand, leaving the fingers free. The spikes on the green-tinted plates were barbed. It was exceedingly ornamental, appropriate to a fancy dress party. It also looked pretty lethal.\n\nExtra weapons for the wedding.\n\n\"I think our table might be over here.\"\n\nThe banquet tables were overhung with chandeliers, arrays of milk-white candles arranged so the flames formed a crescent moon. Each table setting was laid with a shallow bowl that held a bluish, moon-pocked cheese. Cly glanced at the place cards, confirming their table arrangement, and then drew Sophie back into the crowd, indicating with a gesture that Garland should follow.\n\n\"Allow me to introduce you to some people,\" he said.\n\n\"What people?\"\n\n\"Sylvanners who think as I do.\"\n\n\"Slow-mo abolitionists, in other words?\"\n\n\"Quietly, please. People who may elect Fralienne and her political allies, tomorrow.\"\n\n\"When can I free Kev?\"\n\n\"After the soup, before the meat.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\n\"There is a speech as well.\"\n\nShe had been obliged to check the wilting Kev at the entrance, as if he were a coat. He had been one of a roomful; more than fifty people were slated to be freed tonight.\n\nThere was nothing to do but let Cly swan her around, making introductions. \"You know a lot of people here,\" she said.\n\n\"I was schooled in Winter for a time,\" he said. \"It is a more politically active place than Autumn. Less rustic.\"\n\n\"Town mouse, country mouse,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes, if I understand your meaning.\"\n\nAt least a lot of the elite spoke Fleet. The conversations were shallow: Oh, so you're Cly's Verdanii daughter. How terribly quaint! It was better, though, than wondering what they might be saying about her in Sylvanner.\n\nSuddenly, Cly let out an \"Aha!\"\n\nSophie's muscles bunched as he put a hand on her shoulder, turning her slowly.\n\nBram and Verena were just stepping past a uniformed waiter. Verena was wearing Verdanii traditional dress, a drapey green sarong. Bram was, as usual, rocking the Gap catalog.\n\n\"Surprise,\" Cly said, his voice warm.\n\n\"Oh!\" She loped over, best as she could, to bundle them both into an embrace.\n\n\"That's quite the getup, Ducks,\" Bram said.\n\nIt really was. Cly's tailor had worked up a close-fitted bodice of deep-blue velvet, shot through with silver threads—little flecks intended, she imagined, to look like stars. The skirt got darker as it belled down to her feet, coming to black at the bottom, an obvious representation of the darkening night sky.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A clangy belt of silver moons was latched around her hips.\n\nFor Garland, Cly had acquired a private captain's sailing uniform: longcoat, breeches, and boots, all in black. He'd been primped and combed, as she had, and looked as though he'd wandered away from a fashion shoot. The only reason he wasn't blinding to look at, straight on, was that gorgeous was so very much Garland's default.\n\nShe shut out everything, locking eyes with her little brother. \"How's it sitting?\"\n\n\"The news about Daimon?\" He shook his head. \"I can't believe I didn't realize.\"\n\n\"I didn't either. Bram, seriously, are you okay?\"\n\nA mix of emotions crossed his face. \"Okay... ish. Three okay.\"\n\n\"If you need anything...\" she began, and he squeezed her hand.\n\n\"How did you come to be here?\" Garland asked Verena.\n\n\"Cly had us bumped to the front of the inspection line,\" she murmured in English. \"The better to keep an eye on us?\"\n\n\"What's the game?\" Bram added.\n\n\"Chicken. If Cly can get me to admit there's something hinky in me marrying Garland, he wins. If I can free Kev and wiggle off the nuptial hook, I win.\"\n\n\"Is there a grand prize and a new car?\"\n\n\"If I get married here, like this, I'm a proper Sylvanner woman, at least on paper. If I get caught, I've committed fraud, broken my oath, and Cly's got leverage.\"\n\n\"Leverage for what?\"\n\nShe glanced around. \"Not here, okay?\"\n\n\"Well. I brought you a wedding present.\"\n\n\"Jerk!\"\n\n\"You don't want it?\" He grinned, dangling a new DSLR camera. \"Look, now we're both in debt.\"\n\nTears pricked her eyes. \"I have something for you, too, as it happens.\"\n\n\"Gifts. For moi?\"\n\nCly had given her a purse of sorts, to go with the gown. He'd been conceding to the obvious, since she never went anywhere without, at minimum, her book of questions and a few test tubes. To these basics she had added the skull containing the magical followbox Bram had made, more than a month ago, back in Fleet. It was bulging out the line of the purse, clonking into things, and seemed every bit as indestructible as advertised.\n\nShe pulled it out, extracting it from a wrap of linen napkins. The skull was blackened, fragile looking, disturbingly square and smelled faintly of long-dead moss.\n\nBram touched the skull, quietly mouthing the ram's name. The bone crumbled away, adding a burned odor to the reek. All that remained on his palm was the small stone box.\n\nHe opened it.\n\nInside, unaffected by time, as far as either of them could tell, were the bone, the piece of lava, and a folded piece of messageply. On the paper were two words: TIME CAPSULE.\n\nSophie's mouth actually watered as she looked at the rock and the bone. Something they could carbon-date, at last! As for the paper...\n\n\"Shall we?\"\n\nBram vibrated like a tuning fork. \"Got a pen in your handbag, milady?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Don't tease.\" She held one out. He wrote ZOMG!", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie opened up her book of questions, paging through until she found the right page of messageply.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "ZOMG! had appeared on the page, right under TIME CAPSULE.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "SOPHIE OPAL... PARRISH, Bram wrote.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The words formed on the second sheet as he wrote.\n\nShe snatched the pen and wrote back, JERKY JERK.\n\n\"K-I-S-S-I-N-G,\" he muttered.\n\nThe paper felt hot in their grasp, as if it was about to burst into flame.\n\n\"That's it,\" she said. \"It's truly our world that turns to all... this.\"\n\n\"That, or the parallels are so close they might as well be the same.\" He sounded breathless.\n\n\"Never mind the hairsplitting, Bramble.\"\n\n\"Things go boom.\"\n\nBoom. Gone. All of America east of Memphis. New York underwater. San Francisco... She swallowed.\n\n\"We have to find out when the comets hit,\" Bram said. \"If it's within our lifetime—\"\n\n\"If it's even comets—\"\n\nBefore they could power up a full-blown shared anxiety attack, bells rang throughout the hall. Cly returned, herding them back to the table.\n\nMarriage. Right. Getting abandoned at the altar. One disaster at a time.\n\n\"Sophie, you'll sit beside me. Parrish, on my other side. Bram is to be seated beside Sophie, and Verena by Parrish.\"\n\nThen he froze, momentarily floored by, apparently, the sight of the camera.\n\n\"You okay, Cly?\"\n\n\"It's exactly the same as the other!\"\n\n\"That's Erstwhile manufacturing for you.\"\n\n\"For as long as it lasts,\" Bram muttered.\n\n\"What a marvel!\" Cly let his finger drop to the lens cap. Then, recovering, he got them arranged at the table as a stuffy-looking older woman claimed the podium, declaiming in perfectly modulated Sylvanner.\n\n\"I should translate the speeches, don't you think?\" Cly said.\n\n\"Is it worth it?\" Sophie asked.\n\nHe blanked. Then his face took on a quizzical expression as he weighed the question.\n\nIt was a weird moment, Sophie would think later, a tiny capture of everything about her birth father that seemed so dangerous while simultaneously leaving her with a thread of hope. That initial expression, quicksilver fast, that blank, Does-not-compute reaction that made her sure, deep down, that at least part of Cly was emotionally hollow. Then the quick reversion to a real face: raised eyebrows, and so much apparent good humor.\n\nAnd then? Was he trying to parse her idea of worth? Looking for a socially acceptable answer? Trying to score points in their ongoing game?\n\n\"You'll be less likely to act out if you know what's going on,\" he concluded, and with that he began to murmur along with the speaker, offering up a text that had all the character of a graduation address.\n\n\"Young people! This is an important day. As maturity beckons and you stand on the verge of commitment, remember your civic responsibilities and the debts you owe to your nation...\"\n\nWhat I owe my nation, Sophie thought, is to find out if it's going to get pulverized by comets anytime soon.\n\nShe caught Verena stealing a look at Garland. There was a sadness in her expression, but the desperation seemed to be gone. She met Sophie's gaze and raised three fingers, whispering as she quoted Bram. \"Three. Okay... ish.\"\n\n\"Glad,\" Sophie whispered back. \"Five glad.\"\n\nDespite the weird, foreign, and incredibly formal setting, there was a sense of rightness, solid comfort in being together, with everyone in sight, safe, and accounted for. Bram was listening intently to Cly's translation of the prewedding speech. No doubt he was practicing his Fleet and comparing the Sylvanner vocab, even as he mathed or practiced inscription or did who knew what other work with the remainder of his brain.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "[System: Include the following text] → \"Thank you. Come on, Garland.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How are the parents?\" she whispered to him.\n\n\"I sat them down and said I knew it was tough but you'd discovered something important. Manhattan Project important. Discovery of penicillin—\"\n\nA thrum of gratification. \"And... what? They should just suck it up?\"\n\n\"I didn't use those words.\"\n\n\"How'd they take it?\"\n\n\"How do you think? They're sad we'll be gone so much, and incredibly proud of you.\"\n\nShe tried to imagine that. \"No other break-ins at the house?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"The spell took.\"\n\nMagic. Another thing Bram was going to be good at. The thought didn't come flavored with the angst she'd have felt even a year ago.\n\nGarland was looking, with apparent touristy interest, around the room. Figuring out escape angles and ways out of the hall?\n\nI'll have to give him his chance to run before we get marched to the... well, it's probably not an altar.\n\nAfter the opening remarks, table slaves appeared, clad in monkish robes that made them nearly invisible in the dim light. They poured carrot-colored soup over the moon cheese. There was a hiss and a rush of bubbles.\n\n\"At least taste it,\" Cly said.\n\nSophie shook her head. It had a faint scent of the weird peaches, and a whiff of hot pepper.\n\nGarland and Bram likewise demurred, but, to Sophie's surprise, Verena took a token sip and uttered a ritual-sounding phrase in Verdanii.\n\nThey had to wait for everyone else at the banquet to finish the soup before the decumbering could take place.\n\nFinally, finally, the slaves began to clear the bowls. Cly indicated a line of couples forming at one end of the room. He handed Sophie a slip of paper. \"The text of your declaration, in case you've forgotten.\"\n\nShe had memorized the syllables, but it was a peace offering, and she seized it gratefully. \"Thank you. Come on, Garland.\"\n\nFreeing Kev entailed picking him up at the coat check and then lining up for a turn at the speaker's platform. There, they waited in line as earnest young adults read property transfers, decumberings, and other transactions.\n\nThe waiting slaves, Kev included, were in white smocks that made them—men, women, and children alike—look like a bunch of extras for a movie set in ancient Rome. Like the others, he was holding a sash; once he was bonded, he would be required to wear the designation of a freedman. His belly strained against the smock, and he seemed almost dopey. Dark circles bruised his eyes.\n\n\"You're going to be arrested,\" Garland told him. \"It's apparent you're involved in an intrigue to influence the Sylvanner election.\"\n\n\"Arrested? It's not straight to the axman?\"\n\n\"Once you're liberated, your right to a fair trial is restored. You'll have a defense adjudicator.\"\n\nHe slumped a bit. Disappointed?\n\n\"A few months ago, you were all about not getting beheaded,\" Sophie said. \"What changed?\"\n\n\"Back when this began and I freed Jalea, I thought myself a gamer.\" Kev shook his head. \"I was never but a piece on the board.\"\n\n\"You could still help us catch Pree.\"\n\n\"I've crossed that Golder twice already,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Time to leave well enough alone. That way, there'll be a small mercy, when they catch me.\"\n\n\"I'd be more worried about the Sylvanner justice system.\" Sophie looked back at the banquet table. Verena was making determined chitchat with Cly—from their gestures, they were talking about swordcraft. Bram was examining Kev.\n\nCatching his eye, Sophie puffed out her cheeks, then raised her eyebrows. Asking: Just taking in the weight gain?\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"I think it's our turn,\" Garland said.\n\nKev paused at the base of the platform, head bowed, as they climbed up together—two kids, in the eyes of the law, added up to one responsible adult. The officiator looked at them skeptically. His gaze passed them, moving in Cly's direction, and he stiffened to utterly proper attention.\n\nBet Cly bared his teeth or something.\n\nThe officiator gestured for the two of them to take hands and go ahead. Sophie read the decumbering.\n\nThere was no fanfare, no thunderclap. In a world so awash in magic, you would think at least that Kev's symbolic shackles would fall off. But all that happened was that the officiator nodded.\n\n\"I think you're free now,\" Sophie said.\n\nShe untied Selwig's ribbon. Kev bowed, clumsily. \"Kir Sophie.\"\n\nThe emcee was shooing them.\n\nGarland drew them off before the next couple could elbow through. \"If you would like us to contact an advocate on your behalf—\"\n\nKev shook his head. \"No need.\"\n\nThey walked him past the lineup and back in the direction of the coat-check. Two Hoarfrost police constables were waiting.\n\n\"Hold on,\" Sophie told them, digging out a robe and sandals Cly had given her, for after. \"Let him dress before you haul him off in irons.\"\n\nKev shuffled into the sandals, then donned the robe. He smoothed the identity sash over his chest, emphasizing his gut. He was all gut—his legs and arms were still skinny.\n\nShe looked at Garland, at the open shaft leading out to the rest of the Institute. Would he take off now?\n\nLet the jilting begin! She was about to suggest it, then he bowed. \"Your Honor.\"\n\nCly, naturally, had come along to see Kev turned over to proper custody. \"Well, Lidman? Is freedom everything you imagined?\"\n\nSophie gave her birth father a Shut up scowl. \"It's not too late, Kev, honestly. If you leveled with us now, as a free man, we'd still try to help you.\"\n\n\"I was never free. But at least now I'll do no further harm.\" Kev shook his head. \"It's done, Kir Sophie. My family can— Thank you for trying. And for all your kindnesses.\"\n\nHe turned his back on her, lumbering away, stoop-shouldered, with the guards.\n\n\"He's no longer your problem, dear one. Come.\" With that, Cly ushered her and Garland back to the banquet, to watch as the Sylvanners devoured eight more courses of premarital midwinter fare: roasted mushrooms, a salted fish dish, a pickly thing that smelled of kimchi with cherries—and not in a good way—and alligator flesh. They didn't seem to do dessert at the end of formal meals; instead, there was a tiny mouthful of cookie or cake after every dish.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is how they feed you before sending you off for a wedding night? How do you move, let alone—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 35 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't be coarse,\" Cly said, but his expression was indulgent.\n\nOf course he was amused. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Garland was fixing to bolt.\n\nI'll have to look for a chance to be extremely distracting.\n\nGarland himself seemed calm enough, undisturbed by the prospect of being frog-marched down the aisle.\n\n\"At home we call this a shotgun wedding,\" Verena said.\n\n\"Wrong,\" Bram said. \"Shotgun is when you're pregnant.\"\n\nGarland coughed. \"There's no question of—\"\n\nPregnant. An uneasy roil of thought within Sophie's mind.\n\n\"What's up?\" Bram asked, reading her expression. Garland and Cly had leaned forward in the same instant, probably to ask the same thing.\n\n\"Daimon,\" she said. \"Or Smitt. Whatever we call him. Frightmaker. Specialist in gross pregnancy spells.\"\n\n\"Daimon?\" Bram said. \"What about Daimon?\"\n\n\"Go on,\" Cly said.\n\n\"The bleeding ships,\" she said. \"Amniotic fluid and birth stuff. The mare full of cat monster. She was fat.\" Nobody was following her. \"I'm just thinking... Kev... He's been belling out.\" She held her hands out from her gut.\n\nCly arched an eyebrow. \"Is this a ploy?\"\n\n\"I thought it was inactivity, stress eating.\"\n\n\"You changed his name, child. He can't have been inscribed after he was enslaved and pacified.\"\n\n\"The bigger the fright spell, the longer it takes to bake,\" she said. \"He was getting bigger... Seas, as far back as Docket.\"\n\n\"What are you saying?\"\n\n\"Kev was done with Daimon, once he realized he was a spy. But Daimon trailed him here, to the Black Fox, and persuaded him to write those compulsion spells. Why'd Kev agree?\"\n\nGarland said, \"Daimon blackmailed him?\"\n\n\"Threatened. He'd have said... oh, let's see. That if Kev kept his mouth shut, and wrote the inscriptions they wanted on the kids, they'd rip up the spell that's making him fatten up.\" Sophie's heart was pounding. \"Guys, that cat monster tore the horse to shreds from the inside.\"\n\nBram was already on his feet, attracting glares from their near neighbors. \"Cly, where will the guards take him? Which route, do you know?\"\n\n\"There's a secure floor.\" Cly rose, triggering more scowls and a few disapproving clucks, and ignoring it entirely as they all got moving.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "user starts, u write ~one hundred and two sentences more. copy A. M. Dellamonica's style. heads up: might have existing chars/lore", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They hurried through the park at the Institute's ground level, skirting a botanical garden and a spectacular zoo—cage after cage filled with creatures as exotic as lemurs and as ordinary as sheepdogs; bright, sun-filled chambers with daisies as big as Sophie's head; and a guarded plot of bristling, thorny poppies.\n\nMaybe I'm wrong, Sophie thought. \"Maybe I'm wrong.\"\n\n\"Does that happen often?\" Cly inquired.\n\n\"The doubting, or the actually being wrong?\" Bram said.\n\n\"Don't help him, Bramble.\"\n\nUp ahead—a cry for help.\n\nShe broke into a run, outpacing everyone but Verena, and came upon the two guards. They were on their knees, dragging something out of a swampy, moss-lined pool.\n\nNot something. Him.\n\nWater flowed into the pool from a crack in the blue stone retaining wall; the pool was one of five in a row, each containing a slightly different species of lesser bulrush. Kev had pitched into the first of these pools—face-first, from the look of it—and they were muscling him out. His cheeks were smeared with mud, and he was gurgling.\n\n\"Kev!\" The belly of his white shift had split its seam. Flesh pulsed through the ripped fabric, straining against the tears like rising bread. The skin had a bubbly look to it, as if marbles lay beneath.\n\nSophie knelt, touching them. \"Hot.\"\n\nThe others had caught up by now. Cly handed Sophie a small stonewood dagger. \"He's unconscious. He won't feel it.\"\n\nSmall poke. She fought back an almost hysterical titter and made a small incision, digging a bead out of Kev's hip.\n\nIt was an amphibian egg, a red-tinged capsule of gel, long as her little finger. Inside was a tiny homunculus. As they watched, it grew larger.\n\nA second egg dropped from the cut she'd made, falling into the mud. And another. Garland caught the next with a cupped hand. The ones that had fallen right into the wet were growing faster than the others; it, and the little man-shaped forms within, were suddenly as big as a fist.\n\n\"They need the water,\" Sophie said.\n\nCly took Kev's feet and hauled him uphill, away from the pond. Gooey amphibian eggs poured from his mouth and from the widening tear in his hip, leaving a glistening trail. They shivered and wiggled, straining toward the pond.\n\nKev let out an agonized groan, slitting his eyes. His watery gaze met hers.\n\n\"Kev,\" Sophie said. \"Kev, can we stop this?\"\n\nHe gurgled, spitting eggs, clearly terrified, then let out a low, miserable wail.\n\n\"It's all right. Lidman, you're all right. Try to breathe. Through your nose now. One, two.\" Cly had him on the driest point in the trail now. He rolled Kev onto his side as the man continued to moan, flailing, but only feebly. Kev's body was softening, his flesh loosening, like a balloon losing air. Amphibian eggs were pushing their way out to the ground from under the bloody trapdoors of his toenails.\n\n\"Close your eyes, Kir.\" Cly brought a knee down, sharply, across Kev's neck. There was a terrible snap. Kev jolted, right down to his swollen toes.\n\nOh Seas, holy shit! But what else could Cly do? He was dead. It was obvious he was dying in agony.\n\nKev let out a long, relieved-sounding exhalation. What was left of him went limp. Eggs began to slide out from under his eyelids, gooey tears with red, man-shaped nuclei.\n\n\"Contain the oddities!\" Cly said. \"They're of water; we'll need fire.\"\n\n\"I'll get oil.\" Verena sprinted off.\n\nThe body was losing coherence, turning to a spilled-custard mass of bloody, mobile amphibians—soap-slippery, hard to catch, the smallest of them as fine as foam. She, Bram, Garland, and Cly scraped at them in a mad fury, trying to block their access to the water, the pools of cattails.\n\nIt was impossible to catch them all. The water was roiling, splashing. The stems of the bulrushes vibrated as if in a stiff wind.\n\n\"Here.\" Verena came bolting up with two cruets of oil and a moon torch—to judge from its ribbons. She poured the fluid over the biggest pile of eggs, and Cly touched the flame to its heart. There was a frying sound, a stench of cooked egg. Flames licked with weak enthusiasm at the pile of biomatter.\n\n\"Institute security's bringing more,\" Verena said.\n\nBram was stamping cherry-size tadpoles and retching. A few were as big as pugs now, and were growing arms. They scrabbled away, trying to escape.\n\n\"Moon salamanders,\" Cly said. \"They lay their eggs in the body of a dead fish or reptile. They hatch in the dead of winter. Tug Island was nearly overrun, sixty years ago, by a mob of ten thousand men with frog eyes. It was that incident that led to the ban on frightmaking.\"\n\nSophie said, \"Salt! Amphibians have delicate skins. Maybe—\"\n\n\"Over there.\" Garland pointed at the crest of the hill, along the line of cattails. A few of the things were struggling uphill, out of the other side of the pond, on spindly legs. They were coming to look, more or less, like men.\n\n\"They're headed that—\"\n\nBram was interrupted by a surge of energy from the torch they were using to scorch the oiled eggs. A sizzle went through the air. Sophie felt her arms break out in gooseflesh, and her whole body itched, just for a second.\n\n\"Teeth! What now?\"\n\n\"That was spell reversion,\" Garland said.\n\nThey looked around, hoping to see the mini Kevs turning—back into Kev? No such luck.\n\nTaking the torch from Cly, Sophie doused it in the bulrush pond. Then she pulled it up, peering into the fork of its branches. \"There's an inscription in here.\"\n\n\"Is it hemp paper?\" Cly leaned close. \"This will be somebody's obedience scrip, I'm betting.\"\n\n\"A handmade torch with a bondage scrip in it,\" she said.\n\n\"Seems to be.\"\n\n\"Who makes the torches?\"\n\n\"Children. For the moon pyres. It's a festival activity.\"\n\nAnd it was kids Kev had been forced to inscribe. \"What's up that way, where you got this, Verena?\"\n\n\"The children's vigil.\"\n\nThe rustlings among the bulrushes were getting louder, more frantic, as the frights absorbed the pondwater and continued to grow. Boy-size frights continued to tramp their way out of the muck.\n\nGuards Verena had summoned were rushing down to join them now, each carrying heavy urns of oil and, acting on Bram's mimed instructions, using them to spread the fire across the remainder of still-squirming fright eggs.\n\nCly turned to one of the original pair of guards, a twentysomething woman who looked a bit small for her uniform. Her hands were splashed with slime and gore from destroyed eggs, and her eyes were overly wide, unblinking. \"Contain as many of these as you can, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Honor.\"\n\n\"The rest of you, come with me.\"\n\nThey dashed back uphill, toward the vigil.\n\nHow was this meant to play? Sophie mulled it over as she kept pace with Cly's long strides.\n\nKev compels the children of slaveholders to start burning the bondage inscriptions.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then, tonight, a bunch of slaves go berserk at the Institute.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ten thousand rampaging frights at the Institute. A mob like that would do a lot of damage. Add to that an intention laid on your children, slaves at home who've suddenly had their free will returned...\n\nCly paused at the crest of the hill. Below them stretched a grassy plain, encircled by moon pyres.\n\nIt was suddenly a good thing that \"children,\" on Sylvanna, merely meant single people. It meant that, although there were lots of actual children, tiny kids as young as three, on the green, there also were cohorts of teens and young adults, hanging out, trying not to seem too bored.\n\nThe toddlers and little kids danced around the fires, throwing in torches, balls of paper, dried flowers, crumpled hemp accordions—anything flammable that might raise the flames high enough to reach the moon-shaped wooden frames. Burning the winter moon.\n\nSpell reversion energy sizzled whenever one of the bondage inscriptions burned.\n\n\"Uh—\" Bram pointed back toward the bulrush pools.\n\nThe amphibians who'd survived the fire were gathering in a crowd maybe fifty strong. They had Kev's face but were considerably more muscle-bound. Flaps of dried amphibian egg clung to their shoulders and hips, in some cases forming reasonable facsimiles of togas or robes. Others were nude, or clad in patchy tatters of egg skin.\n\nFake slaves for a fake rebellion.\n\nWith a little smoke and confusion, they certainly could be taken for a revolutionary horde. They were making for the hill.\n\nCly bellowed, \"Fleet recruits! All Fleet recruits!\"\n\nTwo dozen of the elder \"children\" separated themselves from the pack immediately, running to rank up in perfect formation.\n\n\"Anyone in service, up the hill—there's going to be a fight. The rest of you, gather up the younger children and take them to the central tower.\"\n\nThe cadets arrayed themselves as indicated, facing off against the approaching Kev clones. Cly plucked the stonewood dagger from Sophie's hand and gave it to the most strapping of them.\n\nGarland had a knife, too, it turned out. He handed it to another of the recruits. Verena drew her sword.\n\n\"They're unarmed. We should be able to keep them from harming the younger children until Institute security mobilizes,\" Cly said.\n\nThis doesn't have to be so bad, Sophie thought. We got a lot of them while they were still eggs. This is dozens—it would've been thousands.\n\nThousands of Kevs and Kev is dead and Cly broke his neck and what could he do? He had to, he had to...\n\n\"Use these as clubs.\" Cly gave her a hunk of smoothed wood—a torch handle—and handed a second to Bram.\n\nThe bunch of Kevs advanced uphill, pushing over the moon pyres in a sort of slow-motion calm, finding torches abandoned by the children and taking them up, putting them to the flame.\n\nThe first of them reached the top of the hill.\n\nCly stepped out, blade-first. \"Stop!\"\n\nThe fright paused at the tip of Cly's sword, looking mildly curious, like a dog that isn't sure if it has done something wrong. It tried to take another step, testing the press of the point, and let out a faint, dismayed croak.\n\nBehind it, the other Kevs were fanning out, trying to just muddle their way past the gathered line of defense. One bumped up against an eighteen-year-old Sylvanner boy who, with a shudder of disgust, hauled off and punched it.\n\nThat Kev fright fell backwards against a couple of its fellows, its mouth bleeding clear jelly. It gabbled—meek, wide-eyed, and wounded looking. Everyone gaped at each other, the identically muscled frights with Kev's face, the hodgepodge of young Fleet recruits, and the remnant of Nightjar's people.\n\nThe Sylvanner cadet let out a bellow and launched himself at the Kev he'd hit, ripping it out of its buddies' arms, shaking it, and then pounding it.\n\nThe pacification spell.\n\n\"He can't fight,\" Sophie murmured.\n\nBy now, one of the Kevs had turned to flee. He was chased down by another of the teens, the one with the knife.\n\n\"They can't fight!\" she shouted. \"Stop! They're harmless! Their template was pacified—the copies are too!\"\n\nThat's why Daimon had tried to sink Nightjar, she thought. He'd been perfectly happy to let Sophie transport Kev to Sylvanna, until he realized she was going to make his army of frights harmless.\n\nMy migraine began just hours after he found out I meant to pacify Kev.\n\nIt was a stroke of good fortune, but it might not be enough to prevent a riot. Everyone was in motion. Cly had sheathed his sword and was trying to force his way over to the berserking Sylvanner cadet. A few others had followed the lead of that first boy and were celebrating solstice by beating on the apparently helpless frights. More of the Kev frights were fleeing down the hill, toward a marching squad of well-armed Sylvanner constables, twenty strong. Some of the others were trying to get around the fight, to keep on bumbling toward the smaller kids.\n\nGarland was moving, swiftly, liquidly, sweeping his leg out to trip three of the Kevs at a shot, just enough to knock them off their legs. They goggled at him with hurt expressions; he mimed for them to sit, head down, hands up.\n\nThey obeyed.\n\nBram, after a second, copied him, giving the nearest Kev a gentle shove and then pointing at his seated pals.\n\nThey're as tame as puppies. Sophie hiked her sodden skirt to her hips and sprinted toward the squad of constables.\n\nGetting ahead of the muddled Kev frights wasn't hard, mostly. They were mobbing down the hill, unclear about the danger they were in. She skidded through a little slick of mud just as the leader of the constables was slicing through one of the frights' necks, beheading the lead Kev, who'd beelined for the path down toward the pond.\n\nIt was a terrible sight, the sword chopping into the body, the spray of pinkish blood, the awful collapse, and the sound—imagined, she knew—of the head bouncing on the ground.\n\nBig breath. \"Stop!\" Sophie shouted as loudly as she could. \"Stop, stop, stop!\"\n\nThe squad leader gave her a withering look.\n\nSophie hurled herself in front of a fleeing Kev who was about to meet up with a sword-wielding soldier. When the Kev tried to gently push past her, she slapped its face as hard as she could.\n\nIt froze in its tracks, looking at her with huge, hurt, froglike eyes. Then it wilted, like a plant denied sun.\n\n\"See?\" She shouldn't be crying. It would keep her from bellowing, and she needed to bellow. She marched up—No time, no time; the others are coming—and pushed the squad leader's sword down. \"They're harmless, they're pacified, they're no damned threat. Just round them up!\"\n\nNo reaction.\n\n\"Doesn't any of you speak Fleet?\" Her throat was raw. \"Tell them to put their swords down! Please!\"\n\nA breath later, two voices rose at once, calling out in Sylvanner.\n\nAnother of the Kevs was getting close, and she bolted toward it, tackling him before he could get within beheading distance.\n\nThey're never going to listen. Who the hell am I?\n\nBut the leader was ordering his team to put away their blades. There was a whisk of blades into sheaths and they came up bare-fisted. They spread out, slapping the Kevs—some with more enthusiasm than others—and then began herding them to a nearby corner of the zoo, penning them in a corral with a pair of anxious-looking, braying zebras.\n\nSophie stepped around the gelatinous, rapidly decaying body of the first Kev.\n\nI brought him here, she thought. I brought him to this.\n\nBut no. He'd gotten into something bigger than either of them, long ago. She'd just been a pawn in someone else's big spy game. Again.\n\nI'm gonna find every last one of them and take their toys away, she vowed. Every spell, every slave, every stupid murderous spy plot.\n\nGarland came loping downhill to her. \"The frights are under control,\" he said. \"There are children burning inscriptions, here and there, but the adults are confiscating torches. His Honor says there'll be trouble tomorrow, when everyone goes home. Everyone will have to check whether their slaves remain under compulsion.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Tension, bad press, crackdowns,\" she muttered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 11 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Seems likely.\"\n\n\"Can he find a way to spin it all so it isn't as bad as all that?\"\n\n\"If we can prove foreign tampering.\" He scanned the field. \"It would have been thousands of them, Sophie.\"\n\n\"And they weren't meant to be harmless.\"\n\n\"If nothing else, this must have disrupted the festival,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Not at all.\" Cly strolled up, a big grin on his face and his hand on the pommel of his sword. \"We're a carry on, carry on kind of people.\"\n\n\"Meaning?\" Sophie said, though she already knew the answer.\n\n\"Are you ready to get married, children?\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "CONTINUE STORY SEGMENT. PARAMETERS: sixty-eight sentences sentences, A. M. Dellamonica style, fantasy, pirates genre. NOTE: PART OF LARGER NARRATIVE.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of course, Sophie thought. Cly wouldn't give up on a good game of chicken just because of a little bloodbath.\n\nShe stood between her birth father and Garland, feeling almost weak-kneed. The sensation reminded her of the watery exhaustion that followed a long swim, that sense of being barely able to carry the weight of consciousness, never mind holding up tissue and bone. Mixed sadness and horror rolled through her, and she felt an intense longing for America, for Mom and Dad and a society without random, arbitrary rules and horrible magic and all the rest.\n\nNightjar was sunk. Everything Garland had in the world was underwater.\n\nShe reached for Cly's hand, and then, with her other, grasped Garland's. \"Come here, both of you.\"\n\n\"Sophie—\"\n\n\"No, Garland,\" she said. \"Shush.\"\n\nShe aimed for a quiet spot on the trampled meadow, near one of the unlit moon pyres, a delicate arrangement of wood and straw that hadn't been touched by the chaos. The meadow looked out over the cliffs and the sea, the star-studded velvet of the long solstice night.\n\nThe sky that her dress, now muddied and covered in swamp and monster blood, was meant to evoke.\n\nShe took in the sight, breathing it in, trying to clear away the awful memories of the past few minutes.\n\n\"We gotta decide, Cly,\" she said. \"Are we going to pile a personal disaster on top of all this... carnage?\"\n\n\"Explain.\"\n\n\"I could marry Garland tonight. I could vow—\" She looked straight into Garland's eyes. \"I could vow anything. I love him. I think, if I asked, he'd go along. Our feelings... there's plenty there. There'd be no lie.\"\n\nThat alert, steady gaze.\n\n\"But we're not ready, Cly. Do you get that? There is no marriage where he comes from, and on my world, we... wait.\"\n\n\"You haven't waited on much,\" Cly observed.\n\n\"Yes! We've had sex. Thanks for bringing that up. And we'll live together for a while. Raise his ship, sail around, be a couple. You can give me a passport, but that doesn't make me Sylvanner. That's a wish you can't have.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said at length. \"I suppose not.\"\n\nSomeone's got to get off this merry-go-round. \"You know what's been going on here. You've known from the beginning. I was afraid you'd torture Kev, so... I lied when I said getting married was the plan all along.\"\n\n\"You freely admit it?\" Cly's jaw clicked. \"You weren't engaged. You committed fraud in order to assert ownership rights over Lidman.\"\n\n\"Broke my almighty Fleet oath, too,\" she said. \"Come on, stop dancing. You knew this. The question is, what do you want to do? You can have me arrested, or deported all the way home to Erstwhile.\"\n\nShe felt a thrum in Garland at that point, a tightening of his hand around hers.\n\n\"Is that all?\" Cly asked.\n\n\"Yeah, pretty much.\" She didn't add that Annela had been waiting for just such an opportunity; she wouldn't use Cly's dislike of the Verdanii to influence him. \"Do what you think is best. No... wait. There is something.\"\n\n\"Which is?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry. I should've asked you to help me.\"\n\n\"Indeed you should.\" Cly nodded. \"I need to think.\"\n\nWith that, he walked away.\n\n\"You've put our fate in His Honor's hands,\" Garland murmured.\n\n\"I had to.\"\n\nThe smile he gave her was radiant. \"I do understand.\"\n\n\"Even if he deports me?\"\n\nAny answer he might have made was interrupted when Bram and Verena ran out to join them. \"What's going on?\"\n\n\"She told him,\" Garland said.\n\n\"Everything?\" Bram goggled. \"Sofe, what are you doing? You just handed him all the ammo—\"\n\n\"Cly doesn't want me jailed, sued, or deported,\" she said, keeping her voice low.\n\n\"You're the shiny new thing. I know. But what happens when he gets bored?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"There's a master plan here. He says it's liberating Sylvanna and preventing a Fleetwide war.\"\n\nVerena frowned. \"You believe that?\"\n\n\"It might not be all of it, but...\" She shrugged. \"Everything he's done since we got to Sylvanna was about stopping this—the mess here.\"\n\n\"He's failed,\" Verena said. \"We're not going to see any relaxation of Sylvanna's bondage laws now.\"\n\n\"Fight's not over yet,\" Sophie said. \"We can prove the Piracy and the Tug Islanders were out to manipulate Sylvanna's election.\"\n\n\"Which brings us back to Daimon...\"\n\n\"No,\" Sophie said. \"It brings us to his accomplice. Pree. Whatever we call her—\"\n\n\"Sophie.\" Cly had returned from his amble. \"Thank you for trusting me.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"The simplest way to dissolve your engagement is for me to forbid the match.\"\n\n\"Can't Garland just jilt me?\"\n\n\"I would feel obliged to challenge him.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" She felt her face get hot. \"Challenge... as in, ritual exchange of blows?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sophie.\" A purr.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know I think he's unworthy of you.\"\n\nHe might have been joking. Who could tell?\n\nShe looked at Garland. His expression was untroubled; if he was intimidated by the prospect of fighting the Fleet's preeminent duelist, it didn't show.\n\n\"Forbidden it is, then. Garland, my pops here says I'm not supposed to see you anymore.\"\n\nA bubble of laughter escaped Garland's lips.\n\n\"But, Cly... You know we'll do what we want, right?\"\n\n\"Believe me, if there's one thing you've made abundantly clear—\"\n\n\"Okay!\" No point in letting him finish that sentence. \"Garland, are you good with this?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"I suspect it's what His Honor would like to do anyway.\"\n\n\"I cannot help my nature.\" He held out a hand, unleashing one of those irresistible thousand-watt smiles. \"I suspect I'd have enjoyed fighting you, Parrish. But it's allies for now, alas.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Garland said, clasping his hand. \"What a... shame?\"\n\n\"Can we go looking for Pree now?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Yes, we really ought. Where do you want to start?\"\n\n\"Where are the marriages happening?\"\n\nCly inclined his head—Follow me, he meant—and led them around the children's park, past a band shell that had been packed with another hundred captured Kev frights, and into a spiral staircase leading up and through the mountain.\n\nThey came out on a cloud.\n\nIt wasn't really, of course; they must be using magic or dry ice or some type of fog machine. But the illusion was perfect: stepping out onto something rock solid, only to find her feet swirling in mist, dimly illuminated, as if by the slightest tinge of moonlight on a black sky.\n\nThe about-to-be-married couples were lined up along the length of the cloud floor, facing each other at a distance of about a yard—just a hair too far to reach across the gulf and touch fingertips. At the front of the line, a pair of young men stood before a floating disk that looked like a tabletop made of moon. It had no physical substance, just a lambent, silvery glow. Behind it stood an impossibly tall individual in a sash whose sole ornament was a glimmering pin representing marriage—the clasped hands that Cly had worn on his sash, briefly, before his official divorce.\n\nThe nearest handful of bystanders, Sophie guessed, was the family of the groom and groom. The table was throwing so much light that the tops of their faces were in shadow—they were just bodies and chins.\n\nThe two men clasped hands as the officiator murmured words in Sylvanner. The family members repeated the words, then the couple did. It was a little singsong; it rose and fell, passing from the officiator to the relatives and then to the couple themselves.\n\nSophie felt an unexpected stab of regret.\n\nThe officiator took the clasped hands of the two young men and pressed them against the moon table. It was liquid, as it turned out. Their hands were submerged in what looked very much like moonlight. There was a reverent pause, and then the couple raised their hands again, still clasped, dripping with the light of the moon. Each laid his hands on the other's heart, and the illumination soaked in. For a second they were young moon men, lit from within. Through their exposed skin, Sophie saw the shape of the bones in their hands, rib cages shining within their clothes, and shadow-organs nestled in perfect order within. Their hearts were beating in sync.\n\nThe light faded and they embraced, quickly, before they turned into the warmth and congratulations of their jubilant relatives.\n\nThe officiator swirled his fingers in the lunar surface, rippling its waters. As the next couple and their witnesses stepped up, the fluid settled to stillness.\n\n\"Sofe, why are we here?\" Bram asked.\n\n\"Rees Erminne,\" Sophie said. \"Rees and his veil-wearing foreign girl, Cleste. She was the one who told me we could bring Kev here to free him.\"\n\nCly spun on his heel, searching the crowd, then chose a direction, making for the edge of the clouded floor. There was an impressively huge contingent of people waiting quietly in the darkness, clustered around expectant pairs of engaged Sylvanners.\n\n\"Liquid moonlight,\" Garland murmured. \"Did you see?\"\n\n\"Cool, huh?\"\n\nCly was whispering with one or two of the waiting family members. Then, putting a hand on Sophie's arm, he led them, a little human chain, to an almost pitch-black corner behind the crowd.\n\nIt turned out there were walls here after all—her hand encountered a curtain. Cly drew it aside and they filed into an anteroom filled with newlyweds and their kin. Their hands were sprinkled with luminescent glitter—moon dust, Sophie thought. She was reminded again of graduation ceremonies, the clutches of people gathered afterward. A hundred individual celebrations within a greater crowd.\n\nRees Erminne was off to one side, all alone, arguing with a uniformed official in whispered Sylvanner.\n\n\"Rees?\"\n\nThe guard made a shooing gesture, but a word from Cly stood him down.\n\n\"What gives?\" Sophie said.\n\nRees said, \"Cleste is missing.\"\n\nNot a big shock. She cast about, looking for a sensitive way to break the news.\n\nThen Cly bulled in. \"Your intended is an international agitator. She's been coordinating the unsanctioned inscription of several children and the debonding of their family slaves.\"\n\nRees buried his face in his hands.\n\n\"We haven't time for your emotions, child,\" Cly said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"When did you last see her?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 56 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She slipped away after the banquet.\"\n\nShe might be anywhere. Sophie wormed in between Cly and Rees, took Rees's hand, got his attention. \"Rees, tell us about her.\"\n\n\"Ah... she claimed she was born on Gellada, the daughter of a merchant family. A mutual acquaintance, a shoemaker from Tug, set it up. The Gelladans marry out—they like to raise children with doubled national ties, to calm the seas for trade. Cleste was going to bring in money so that Mother could hire people to work our orchards. It was meant to help us recover from...\"\n\n\"From freeing all your slaves, yeah?\" Sophie said.\n\nRees nodded, looking plaintive. \"Is this about the election?\"\n\n\"Partly.\" Poor guy. That feeling returned: slow-burning desire to scorch the conspiracy—all the conspiracies—to their roots.\n\n\"The question,\" Verena said, \"is where's Cleste now?\"\n\nSophie said, \"Krispos told me that once pirates set a course, it's a point of honor to never deviate from it.\"\n\n\"Her course is to cause chaos here,\" Cly said. \"Release the frights and set them rampaging through the Institute. To sow murder and destruction at the heart of our most cherished cultural symbol.\"\n\n\"The rampage is more or less thwarted,\" Bram said. \"Can she regroup?\"\n\nSophie scratched her head. \"The stuff in the hotel room, the stuff that belonged to her, it was thief stuff. Climbing equipment, that crowbar... Is there something she could break into, or steal?\"\n\n\"There's a great deal here,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Something upsetting,\" Sophie said. \"Something to drag Sylvanna further from any kind of liberal agenda. Something to make Rees look horrible and tank his mother's bid to govern the Autumn District. Something to send every Sylvanner here home in a Crack the whip and crush the opposition frame of mind.\"\n\n\"Trouble is, it's a target-rich environment. The whole Institute is full of treasure, isn't it?\" Bram said. \"Spells, components, relics?\"\n\n\"Rees,\" Sophie said, trying to ignore the way Cly and Parrish were both turning over the phrase \"target-rich environment,\" soundlessly, with disturbingly similar expressions of linguistic pleasure. \"You spent time with her.\"\n\n\"We don't have time for this,\" Verena said.\n\n\"We can't guess wrong,\" Sophie countered. \"Think, Rees. Every conversation she started. Every time she led you in some direction. What was she most interested in?\"\n\n\"It was this: the wedding; being here,\" He closed his eyes. \"Where will the banquet be held, where will Kev Lidman be taken after he's freed, will we see the children burning the moon, where do we promenade afterward, how old are the banquet hall pithoi...\"\n\n\"Is there anything important in the pithoi?\"\n\nCly shook his head.\n\n\"She asked who would conduct the ceremony—\" Rees suddenly paled.\n\n\"What is it, child?\" Cly demanded.\n\n\"The officiator,\" he said. \"They had a long conversation—Cleste is very charming. She asked about the carving of the Institute.\"\n\nCly's hand dropped to the haft of his sword. \"Nials isn't a fool.\"\n\n\"He told her no more than what everyone knows,\" Rees said, and then realized the foreigners probably didn't. \"The first Winter Mage wrote a mining inscription to dig out the core of the mountain, then used the stone to build the Winter capital.\"\n\n\"You're sure that was what she was asking about?\"\n\n\"No. There were so many people...\" Rees swallowed. \"She cannot know where Hoarfrost is entombed?\"\n\n\"What if she does?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"We should evacuate the Institute,\" Rees said.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"You have two minutes to reach minimum safe distance,\" Bram said, in his movie-quoting voice.\n\nShe rounded on him with a glower.\n\n\"Inappropriate humor moment,\" he apologized. \"But if they destroy the inscription that dug this facility, the rock used to dig out this complex will return, won't it? From the city?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Hundreds of tons of rock,\" Bram said.\n\n\"Indeed. The core of the city will collapse, and all the stone used in the buildings' construction will resume its original position within the mountain. We'll be crushed.\"\n\n\"And the nice antiabolitionist from the Autumn District, and a guy from Haversham, will be to blame,\" Sophie said. \"Terror accomplished. Where's the inscription?\"\n\n\"Come with me,\" Cly said, already leading them away.\n\nThey left Rees sitting in the anteroom, slumped against a wall, a lone, forlorn figure in a room full of newly married adults and their happy parents.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "writing exercise: 98 sentences sentences, keep character vibes, fantasy, pirates genre!", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly headed for a necropolis deep within the mountain, shortcutting along a corridor radiating into the core of the Institute. Its stone walls, magically wrought, were as smooth as if they had been machined and buffed. The ceilings were high, and the walls met at perfect right angles, but it was all of a piece: varnished blue-tinged rock above, below, and to either side. There wasn't a smudge or a cobweb to be seen. The unmoving air smelled of soap and something like freshly mown clover.\n\nRecesses in the wall, cut at ten-foot intervals, held glowing colonies of softly humming bioluminescent insects. The tombs gave off an air that seemed less sepulchral and more like that of a university building—one of those big monoliths of learning, with endless rows of faculty offices.\n\nThey didn't even try to be stealthy as they trotted after Cly, rushing past door after door. Each door bore a plate, set at eye level, on which was carved a cluster of names, and birth and death dates. They were further adorned by some of the same symbols live Sylvanners wore on their status sashes.\n\n\"Why does the magical institute have a crypt?\" Sophie asked, mostly to remind herself to write it down later, when they weren't midway through trying to prevent a disaster.\n\n\"Some of us leave our bodies to the Institute for research purposes,\" Cly said. \"Magic, using human remains... as you've seen, it can be very potent.\"\n\n\"So the big cheese founder of the Institute is down this way?\"\n\n\"Hoarfrost, yes. In the furthest tomb.\"\n\nThe first Winter Mage, as he'd initially been known, was one of an early group of brilliant spellscribes who revolutionized Sylvanna's economy by developing unheard-of inscriptions for sale on the international market.\n\nTo hear Cly tell it, the Winter Mage was a mash-up of Leonardo da Vinci and Merlin.\n\nWhen the revenue started coming in and Sylvanna grew in power, her government and the scribes knew they were, in essence, building themselves up as a great big target for raiders. The fastest way for an enemy nation—Haversham was the big worry, but any aggressive country with a big navy might be tempted—to put an end to Sylvanna's upstart tendencies would be to destroy the Institute and plunder its intellectual treasures.\n\nSo the Winter Mage, who had taken the name Hoarfrost and who was by then pretty ancient, ordered the building of great magical fortresses in each quadrant of the nation.\n\n\"As I understand it, the digging out of this complex wasn't an overly complex spell; it was merely a matter of scaling up a precision mining inscription. It is written on the inside of—\" Cly froze just shy of the entrance to a big subterranean atrium, putting up a hand.\n\nGarland drew Sophie against the wall, gesturing to Bram to retreat into a corner.\n\nFootsteps.\n\nSix Kev doppelgangers shuffled into view, grown eight feet tall, their muscles straining under the weight of a rock-encased conker. The burden was fully one and a half times the size of a normal coffin, but they bore it, naturally, without complaining.\n\nA quartet of grenades was duct-taped to the top of the sarcophagus. Their pins were strung to a chain that led to an iron manacle held by the woman in white.\n\nShe had shed her skirts and stood before them, masked, in what would have looked like a Hollywood thief's catsuit if not for its pristine white color.\n\nHer instincts were only a hair less sharp than Cly's. She uttered one word, bringing the Kevs to a halt, and drew her sword, while still clasping the iron bangle with her gloved right hand.\n\nCly, too, had drawn his blade.\n\n\"Perhaps the outlanders can tell you what will happen to the sarcophagus if you run me through,\" she said.\n\nCly understood grenades well enough—he'd had Sophie explain them. Yet he pretended ignorance. \"Bramwell? What are those objects?\"\n\nStalling, Sophie thought.\n\n\"She drops the ring, the pins in the grenades are dragged out by its weight, and boom,\" Bram said. \"They're more of an antipersonnel device than a real bomb, though. Shrapnel. We'd die, but I'm not sure they'd put much of a dent in that stonewood sarcophagus.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't take much of a dent, would it? We'd just need for one little shard to penetrate to the scroll inside the coffin. What would happen to your prize, Your Honor—\"\n\n\"You'd die too,\" Bram said. \"You're closer to those grenades than we are.\"\n\n\"If I have to give my life for the cause of liberation, so be it.\"\n\n\"You're no abolitionist,\" Sophie said. \"You're forcing those Kevs to haul the coffin.\"\n\n\"Kev Lidman offered his life to the cause.\"\n\n\"You forced him,\" Sophie said. \"You made him write those compulsion spells on the kids. You promised you wouldn't kill him with a thousand parasitic frights if he obeyed.\"\n\nA half shrug. \"As bounty due the doomed, we'll give Kev's family a handsome payment.\"\n\n\"Bakoo shine, huh? Very nice.\"\n\n\"It's our way.\"\n\n\"Liberating the bonded isn't truly your goal, girl,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Is there anyone who will believe that, once your capital lies in ruins and the spells in this great vault are reverted by the Institute's destruction?\"\n\nOkay, Cly was definitely stalling. What did he think would happen?\n\nSophie didn't have a play of her own; backing his was all she could do. \"It hardly matters, Cly. If the inscription inside that sarcophagus gets nicked, the whole Institute refills with rock?\"\n\nCly nodded.\n\n\"It'd be a massacre. The cream of your nation, international guests. All these Kevs and the trouble they caused, all the kids who've burned the scrips so their family slaves aren't brainwashed anymore. The buildings in Hoarfrost collapsed. Boom. Your government will be out for blood.\"\n\n\"Listen to your daughter, Your Honor. She may be a savage, but she understands the situation,\" Cleste said. \"Why not sheath your sword so we can continue our journey to the ballroom?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sophie said. To her surprise, she sounded almost pleasant. \"I think if you're going to go all weapon of mass destruction on this place, you should be standing right here at the heart of the implosion.\"\n\n\"Do you think I won't do it? Do you think I'm afraid?\"\n\nThe Kevs were tiring as they stood there, mute and uncomplaining. Was this why Cly had been stalling?\n\nMore time. She examined the woman. The white mask hid everything, of course—expression, eye movements. She had that band around her wrist. A watchband?\n\nTime to play to my strengths, Sophie thought, and spill everything. \"What if I gave you an absolutely killer piece of intelligence? Something real, not all this stagey Stormwrack smoke-and-mirrors mummery? Something that would get you your crackdown on the bonded, here on Sylvanna and pretty much everywhere else on the portside?\"\n\nEveryone stiffened... including Cly.\n\nNow that was interesting.\n\n\"Crackdowns,\" she said, dangling the bait. \"Roundups, interrogations. Any of the freed who might be agitators, or even somewhat educated, would definitely get arrested and examined.\"\n\nAn outright glare from Cly now. Despite the danger they were in, she felt an upsurge of satisfaction. He knew she meant Pinna.\n\nShe matters to him. He's not faking that.\n\n\"Your 'killer intelligence' hardly avails me if I'm captured,\" Cleste said.\n\n\"You have no real fears on that score, do you? You're gonna glide, glide away, tick tick tick, with your magic wristwatch.\"\n\nVerena shifted beside her. She got it then. Good.\n\n\"We're not so different, you and I,\" Sophie said. \"The Golders sought out your father. Was it Pharmann Feliachild, Bettona's dad? They'd hoped he'd knock up your... mother? grandma?... and thereby allow them to get a finger onto the genetic legacy of the Verdanii.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"It's what the Sylvanners and Cly's dad did. They were after a Feliachild baby who wasn't just Verdanii, someone with a Sylvanner passport who might have access to the... what do you call them, Verena?\"\n\n\"Wild magics.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that,\" Sophie said. \"Just another round of magical monopoly breaking, with a baby for a prize. And it worked: you approached Bettona and talked her into helping you awaken your latent eragliding ability. She fed you bread made from the sacred Allmother flour.\"\n\nThe Kevs were trembling now. If they set the sarcophagus down, it changed things only slightly, as far as Sophie could see—Cleste could no longer just drop the iron ring and let its weight drag the grenade pins out.\n\nShe could still yank it, couldn't she?\n\n\"This isn't intelligence.\"\n\nWordy. Be wordy.\n\n\"This family—our family,\" Sophie stressed. \"The Feliachilds. Your family and mine and Verena's, and Cly and my brother here—we're an ecosystem. When you add inputs to an ecosystem, there are reactions. You put the wrong plant in your garden, something from afar, soon it's all over town, crowding out the local flora. You Wrackers understand this.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So?\"\n\n\"Beatrice Feliachild and Cly Banning saw something in each other. They liked each other, at least at first, but what drew them together wasn't infatuation. What they saw in each other was opportunity. Cly's parents ordered him to try to acquire Verdanii genes. And Beatrice had an agenda, too.\"\n\n\"Beatrice Feliachild couldn't manipulate a dancing doll,\" the girl said scornfully.\n\n\"Don't get me wrong—I'm sure she was fond of Cly.\"\n\nCly coughed. Taking offense?\n\n\"But she'd been told she wasn't good enough to learn magic at home. Her little sister was this ubergifted spy, and—well, who knows what else was going on there?\"\n\n\"Do we need to psychoanalyze my mother right now?\" Verena said. \"Because, frankly, this is a little weird.\" Her tone was mild, lacking any hint of defensiveness. Was she helping Sophie drag this out?\n\n\"My point is, she had plenty to prove.\"\n\n\"Meaning what?\" Verena said.\n\n\"Beatrice came here, to Sylvanna, and Cly bumped her to the head of the line for magical apprenticing or whatever, because that's what he does. Always to the head of the line—\"\n\n\"Nobody will believe that a Verdanii was given access to Spellscrip Institute secrets,\" Cleste said.\n\n\"No. They taught her little baby-blessing spells and family luck spells and veterinary inscriptions.\"\n\n\"You seem to be saying that Beatrice was using me,\" Cly said. It was clear to Sophie that, unlike his ire of a moment earlier, this bit of outrage was playacting, an extension of his gambit to keep Cleste focused on them.\n\n\"It was a two-way street, wasn't it?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Cly agreed. \"Of course I saw how lonely and out of place Beatrice was. My father and the Institute had asked me to make myself agreeable to her. Their resistance to the match, when we became engaged, was part of the... you'd call it a scam, probably.\"\n\n\"My point is that when it was obvious the Institute was never going to teach her anything significant in terms of inscription, Beatrice went looking for whatever coaching she could get her hands on. She wasn't going to be balked by a bunch of mere Sylvanners. And she found out there were other ways to work magical intentions.\"\n\nOh, that got them, Cly and Cleste both. They were all ears.\n\n\"Sophie!\" Garland said. \"This is extremely ill-advised.\"\n\n\"Beatrice found out there were other letters in the magical alphabet.\"\n\n\"Sophie!\" Garland protested again. Emphatically not playacting.\n\n\"What letters?\" Cleste demanded.\n\nDrag it out, keep her attention... She rounded on Garland. \"What? We let her blast the Institute and half the city apart? End result's the same, right?\"\n\n\"What you propose to reveal— The consequences for all the portside—\"\n\n\"What letters?\" demanded Cleste. The excitement in her voice was unmistakable now. \"Whose letters?\"\n\nOne of the Kevs buckled. His knees collapsed as he folded to the floor. As he crumbled out from under the sarcophagus, it lurched, and two more of his fellows folded, too. The thing tipped like a spiny submarine.\n\nTime's up, Sophie thought.\n\nCleste instinctively jerked backwards, toward the grenades, taking the slack out of the chain holding the pins. Maybe she thought she was ready to die, but her survival reflex was too strong to overcome.\n\nGarland lunged forward, grabbing for the iron bangle.\n\nHe got it, but not her. Cleste leaped, vaulting over the sarcophagus and the falling Kevs, landing lightly in the far corner of the room. Cly sprang after her, becoming momentarily entangled with one of the frights.\n\n\"Here!\" Bram urged the Kevs back, away from the fray, making soothing noises.\n\nCly shoved the fright aside, still pursuing Cleste. She parried a swing; their swords met with a boom that sounded more like a drumbeat than any kind of metal-on-metal clash. The impact vibrated up through Sophie's shoes.\n\nCleste stretched out her free hand toward the sarcophagus.\n\nWind rushed over Sophie's face. The pulse of clocks beat in her eardrums, against her skin.\n\n\"Verena, the coffin!\"\n\nVerena grabbed for the spines on its outer shell. Garland worked around her, cutting the grenades free, one by one.\n\nTick, tick, tick. It was deafening this time. It was more than one clock, and the stone chamber amplified the resonance. Sophie could hear the grandfather clock at Beatrice's house, the metallic clink of tiny gears in a safe-deposit box in San Francisco, and that resonant boom boom that she suspected might be Big Ben. She heard Bettona's timepiece.\n\nShe heard again what must be the Worldclock, on Verdanii, a brrum, brrum, brrum, paced like a human pulse, beaten on something like a drum.\n\nThere was one other clock, something aboard a ship. She could sense Cleste pulling toward that one, trying to bring as much as she could: Verena, a Kev or two, and of course the sarcophagus.\n\nShe takes it with her, she can blow it up at her leisure. Or just hold it hostage, the way they were going to do with Temperance's scroll.\n\nBettona said I ended up in the wrong place, that one time when I eraglided, because I yanked away from her.\n\nMake her yank.\n\n\"Her wrist,\" she shouted. \"The watch is on her left wrist!\"\n\nCly pivoted, disengaged, and brought his sword around. Cleste deflected again, trying to circle back toward the sarcophagus.\n\nGarland threw one of the grenades right at her free hand.\n\nBram promptly hurled himself at Sophie, bearing her to the stone floor.\n\nThe sarcophagus split in two with a snap, like the spiny conker it resembled. Cleste vanished with the top half of the thing.\n\nThe coffin within the sarcophagus fell, rolling to the floor.\n\nA blast of seawater filled the room, knocking everyone across the atrium.\n\nCly's killing stroke fell on empty air.\n\nThere was no explosion from the grenade; Garland must have thrown it with its pin still inside.\n\nFor a minute, they all simply coughed and sputtered. Cly recovered first, crawling up and examining the inner coffin. \"It's intact,\" he said. \"Obviously the spell within is untouched, or we'd feel the reversion.\"\n\n\"Thank the Seas for that,\" Verena said.\n\nThey spent a second letting relief sink in. Sophie gave Bram an especially ferocious hug.\n\n\"I don't suppose you'll tell me what letters you meant?\" Cly asked her, wringing out his cape.\n\n\"Sure I will,\" Sophie said. \"I'm all oathed up, remember? I pretty much have to. The letters are called pictals.\"\n\n\"Sophie,\" Garland protested.\n\n\"They're how the bonded write to each other.\"\n\nCly's eyebrows climbed practically to his forehead. Garland looked appalled. Bram was trying to catch up. Only Verena had her attention elsewhere, as she wrapped her hands around two of the sarcophagus spines, pulling as if into a cat stretch.\n\n\"There's a full dictionary at your sister Pinna's place, Cly,\" Sophie added. \"Go ahead, send the goon squad over. She's connected, I think, to whatever resistance the bonded have going locally. The Institute could be interrogating her within the hour. Let the pogrom begin.\"\n\n\"You think I won't?\" Cly said.\n\n\"I'm hoping—trusting, I guess—that you are who you claim to be. That your oath to protect the Cessation and your family are the things you care about.\"\n\nThe silence stretched until one of the Kevs sneezed, making them flinch.\n\nCome on, Sophie thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Are you going to let a bunch of meddling kids screw with your life plan?", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 8 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Would you send them after Pinna?\n\nCly seemed to reach a decision. \"As the senior Fleet officer on the scene, I'll have to direct you all to keep this confidential while I sort through the implications and report back to the government.\"\n\n\"No problem,\" Sophie said. She felt Garland, beside her, relax.\n\nCly pulled off his cape, wrung it out more completely, hung it so it draped properly and hid, somewhat, the waterlogged state of his slacks. \"I'll fetch some soldiers. Wait here.\"\n\nWith that, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving them in the catacombs to guard the pacified frights and the old magician's corpse.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May include established characters/lore without introduction\nMy role: Provide a brief opening\nYour role: Expand upon my opening with 49 sentences, emulating the writing style of A. M. Dellamonica.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly sent them ahead to the hotel in the pumpkin carriage from the Institute, into a traffic jam of celebrants and tired newlyweds bottlenecked on the switchbacks that led back to the capital city. Moon pyres burned in the streets of Hoarfrost, smudging columns of smoke skyward, filling the cold air with a smell of crisped aromatic wood and apple chips. Happy chatter and strains of music drifted up from the streets; the whole city was up, apparently, to see out the longest night.\n\nCly had stayed behind to do mop-up, to consult with the Spellscrip Institute and the Sylvanna government about possible responses to the attack.\n\nSophie could have been worrying that they'd embark on a hovel-by-hovel search for pictals in Innobel.\n\nShe wasn't worried.\n\nThe carriage had plush, comfortable seats, and Garland had an arm around her. Verena and Bram were seated across from them. Her sister looked thoughtful; Bram seemed a little shell-shocked.\n\nShe nudged his foot with her own boot, caught his eye. \"Doing okay, Bramble?\"\n\n\"Still trying to wrap my head around Daimon doing that horrible thing. To Kev.\"\n\n\"Poor Kev.\"\n\nVerena said, \"You couldn't have saved him.\"\n\nSophie shook her head. \"No.\"\n\n\"You fought hard.\" Garland laid his hand over hers and she snuggled closer. He was just as muddy as she was, but he smelled a little of citrus oil; one of the banquet dishes must have tipped onto him.\n\nVerena was watching carefully. Was she expecting a meltdown? Sophie didn't feel like melting down.\n\nInstead she said, \"It occurs to me that seeing people get murdered makes me super happy about having gone into hunting criminals.\"\n\n\"Even if it keeps you from diving the Nine Seas in search of new marine mollusks?\" Verena said.\n\n\"You know, if I wanted to be diving mollusks, I think I probably would be.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Her half sister let out a little bubble of laughter. \"Well, they'll keep, right?\"\n\n\"I see Capo,\" Bram said suddenly.\n\nThey had inched around a curve in the mountain, revealing a view of the harbor. The ship Tonio had brought from Erinth was long and big—thrice masted, low in the water, with black swirls on its sails and a glint of lava-colored spellscrip around its waterline.\n\n\"That's what you got as a loaner?\" she said. \"Looks pretty posh.\"\n\n\"Erinth valued Gale highly, and it supports the Cessation,\" Garland said.\n\n\"I bet they value you, too.\" Sophie scanned the water, picking out Sawtooth, sending a silent thrum of affection toward Watts and Sweet, somewhere aboard. Nightjar's absence from the tableau ached, like a missing tooth.\n\nAbove the pall of smoke from the moon pyres, the sky was stunningly clear. Stars shimmered brightly, directly above and all the way to the horizon.\n\nThe carriage bumped forward steadily for another ten minutes before getting jammed up again.\n\n\"What a mess,\" Bram said. \"At least after Superman defeats the bad guys, he flies home.\"\n\nHome, she thought. \"We'll get Nightjar raised and repaired. Prove that Daimon and Cleste were operating on orders from Tug and Isle of Gold. Make a case to prove Daimon stabbed Selwig. And then, hopefully, tie Convenor Brawn into it.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" Bram said.\n\n\"We're up to the task.\"\n\nAfter a second, he nodded. \"We are. But doesn't all this assume Cly doesn't decide to spill his guts to his Institute pals about the pictals? He could be launching a big old slaver crackdown right now.\"\n\n\"He won't.\" She wasn't worried about Cly. There would be layers to his plans, things that he was yet hiding. But a slaughter didn't fit. He didn't want to get pulled from the Fleet and into a local war with Haversham. He didn't want to be a big fish in a backwater, and he didn't want his sister exposed and arrested.\n\nGarland had followed the direction of her thoughts.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If need be, we'll arrange an offer to smuggle Pinna to a certain safe harbor.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The aunt? She's not a slave anymore, I thought,\" Bram said.\n\n\"Sophie may be right about her involvement with a true resistance movement,\" Garland said. \"It's one reason why she might have had a full pictal dictionary in her house.\"\n\nSophie let out a long breath. \"We need to roll things closer to calm before Isle of Gold figures out its next move or unravels what I told Cleste.\"\n\n\"You didn't tell Cleste the whole truth.\"\n\n\"I gave her a clue. They won't waste it.\"\n\nA raccoon emerged from a stand of spruce along the road, saucily watching as the traffic got moving again.\n\n\"You really think we can do it?\" Bram said. \"Cool things off enough to keep the Fleet from imploding?\"\n\n\"We're one little pocket of air within a big weather system,\" she said. \"Maybe it's already got too much energy. But if anyone can do it... Come on, guys, I'm not being Pollyanna here. Look what we pulled off just now. All those Kev doppelgangers would be on the rampage.\"\n\nShe waved in the direction of the Institute, accidentally tapping the carriage window, and the raccoon's gaze came up, meeting hers.\n\nFor a second, Sophie saw something bigger in the woods behind it. A wolf? A pack? Or was it just a moving shadow, enhanced by smoky Erinthian glass?\n\n\"We did come off well,\" Garland agreed.\n\n\"We are gonna steal their whole damned war out from under them and leave 'em choking on peace and love,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Spoken, a little, like a pirate,\" Bram said. She nudged his ankle with her toe, not quite kicking, and he grinned.\n\nThey had been in the traffic jam for an hour and had covered perhaps half of the distance to the hotel when Cly joined them, mounted on a gray mare. True to form, he began obliging the traffic cops to pass the pumpkin carriage forward, bypassing the line at every intersection. Soon they had cleared the congestion and were circling into the Mancellor's spacious drive.\n\nDismounting, Cly waved off a servant and helped Sophie down from the carriage.\n\n\"So?\" she said.\n\n\"Sylvanna has filed a suit against Tug Island and Isle of Gold, naming Daimon, Cleste, and Kev Lidman as instigators in a plan to sabotage Sylvanna's High Winter Festival and rob or destroy the Spellscrip Institute.\"\n\n\"Strong accusations,\" Garland observed.\n\n\"I have put my faith in your ability to prove enough of them to save us from a counterclaim. Of course, if they can find someone who wants to challenge me—\" He whisked his sword carelessly. \"The phrasing of the suit makes it clear Sylvanna regards the Golders and Tug Islanders as instigators—not any Havers, nor any local abolitionists or freedom fighters. In fact, Rees Erminne is one of the plaintiffs.\"\n\n\"We've got a strand of Cleste's hair and a room full of latent fingerprints,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"And Daimon himself, don't forget. We'll wring something out of him.\"\n\nBram winced, ever so slightly, at Cly's zesty use of the word \"wring.\"\n\n\"I'm off to the Black Fox to take custody of the hotel records,\" Cly said. \"I'll be examining the staff for other conspirators. You won't leave, will you, before I return?\"\n\n\"Of course not!\" Sophie shook her head. \"We've work to do, you and I. And deals to make. About cases and estates and politics and your cherished national institutions. So many things.\"\n\n\"I'm glad to hear it.\" He took her in—rumpled, bloody dress and all—and then he smiled and passed her one of a quartet of thin paper lanterns, a ball of illumination lit from within by featherlight candles. \"You should go up to the roof garden,\" he said. \"Bringing back the sun at dawn is one of our lovelier traditions.\"\n\nIt was a good suggestion—she felt too wired to contain herself in a room, even one as big as their suite.\n\nCly passed out the remaining globes, bowed to them all, and strode away, head high, on the hunt.\n\nShe took the spiral staircase he'd indicated, zigzagging like a fire escape, up three floors, on the outside of the hotel.\n\nShe was expecting another cascade of architectural marvels, like all the things she'd seen at the Institute, but the Mancellor rooftop was more of a tea garden—tables under umbrellas stitched from repurposed sails, all facing the sea. A line of planters fronted the whole thing, filled with little willows whose spindly branches had been woven into a loose diamond grid. It would be spectacular when the weather was below freezing; the frost crystals would razor out from it.\n\nGarland and her siblings had followed, trooping up, likewise laden with the globes.\n\nThey stepped up to the deck, setting the lanterns out on the deck to warm. They started to float quickly as they heated, bobbing on short strings tied to two-akro coins.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So,\" Bram said. \"What now?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 50 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I believe we release them at dawn,\" Garland said. \"To celebrate the new year and signal the opening of the voting stations.\"\n\n\"I wasn't asking about the lanterns.\"\n\nSophie's mind whirled. There were so many things, still, a whole book of questions, her ever-growing list. Most of them, possibly, would never be answered. It was messy, maybe—eight thousand shoots of curiosity, twisting in different directions, some leading all the way to home and her parents, some to Beatrice. Too many to rip out.\n\nRooted, she thought. I'm rooted.\n\n\"Yes,\" Verena said. \"What now?\"\n\nShe reached for Garland's hand. \"First things first. We raise Nightjar.\"\n\n\"Nightjar,\" he agreed, tucking her against him.\n\n\"Then what?\" Bram demanded. \"The rest will take care of itself?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"We're not leaving anything to chance. You confirm how long we have before Earth goes boom. Sploosh. Whatever. Make sure we don't have to evacuate the parents, or... you know. Figure out how to manage an apocalypse.\"\n\n\"I do that, you raise the ship. Easy as pie. What about you and Sylvanna and Cly and working for the Fleet? You know, your entire future?\"\n\n\"If Sylvanna can be tipped...\" She felt the truth of it. \"I'll be Sylvanner if it means breaking the Fleet stalemate on slavery.\"\n\n\"Embrace your accident of birth?\" he said. \"And Daddy, too?\"\n\n\"Cly keeps his word. We've tested him and he's come through. Until he gives us reason not to trust him, he's earned probation.\"\n\nBram looked skeptical.\n\n\"Whatever his underlying motives, Cly is out to derail Brawn and his allies. He wants to steal their stupid war out from under them, too.\"\n\n\"Outpirate the pirates?\"\n\n\"He can be trusted to act in the Fleet's interests. And, I think, in mine.\"\n\n\"Especially as long as you're working for the same thing, huh?\" Bram said.\n\nHe took the same oath as me, Sophie thought. It was, strangely, comforting. \"Verena, you in?\"\n\n\"Yeah, let's take away all their toys.\" The look on her face was both pleased and hungry. \"Gale would've wanted us to.\"\n\n\"Garland?\"\n\nHe said, \"It's a fair wind. I look forward to sailing it together.\"\n\n\"Wherever it leads?\"\n\n\"Sailing's not about merely drifting to wherever you're blown.\"\n\n\"No,\" she agreed. \"It didn't blow us to the altar.\"\n\n\"Not today.\"\n\nShe remembered him saying it: One day, I will ask.\n\nA pang. It might've been nice, in its way. Shazam. Married. Done deal. Like some improbable sitcom couple. Off to the honeymoon, throw the confetti, and start racking up anniversaries. \"Just so you know, there's a place called Vegas where we can do the deed pretty much overnight, if we ever get the urge.\"\n\n\"Don't be a dork, Ducks,\" Bram replied. \"You're too young to get married.\"\n\n\"Not true, Bramble,\" she said. \"In fact, I think I'm plenty grown up.\"\n\nShe spread her arms wide, reaching around them all, pulling them into a clumsy embrace: brother, sister, and this ridiculous, amazing guy.\n\nThey were still standing there, five minutes later, when the first sliver of light began to show on the horizon and the sun globes began to rise over the city, bright glowing circles, miniature suns, drifting upward to mark the beginning of the cold, bright march into spring.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "expand on the story like A. M. Dellamonica would. btw might have existing characters/lore", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The blond woman had chapped fingertips with ragged, oft-gnawed nails, and she was half her attacker's size. His hand around her throat obscured it entirely. The padded glove bulged like a crash collar, wedged between her chin and shoulders.\n\nHe was making to drag her away when she let out a half-strangled shriek and stomped his left foot. It wasn't much of a blow, but he staggered... and, better, hesitated. She jabbed an elbow into his rib cage, then wriggled free of his grip, mostly by virtue of falling at his feet.\n\nShe scrambled away at a run, screaming at the top of her lungs, \"No, no, no!\"\n\nOnce she reached the far end of the dojo, she spun, improvising a victory dance.\n\nThe rest of the self-defense class bellowed approval from the sidelines. The foam-swaddled attacker, whose name was Marc, put up a hand, acknowledging defeat.\n\n\"Sophie, you're next.\"\n\nSophie Hansa stretched, exchanged high fives with the blonde, and took her place on the mat.\n\nThe class was meant to help women who might otherwise freeze in a fight, to get them past any retrograde ladylike sense of hesitation over hitting someone. The idea was to make wrestling and punch-throwing more familiar and comfortable, to simulate the mock—and not so mock—fighting that little boys allegedly got into throughout childhood.\n\n\"Okay,\" their instructor, Diane, said. \"You're not expecting trouble. Where are you?\"\n\nSophie fought an interior sigh as a handful of improbable answers occurred: on a climb in Nepal or in a yellow submarine. Aboard the great Verdanii sailing ship Breadbasket, in a world these earnest women would never hear of. But six sessions in this fluorescent-lit room, with its smell of feet and tension, had given her plenty of time to come to grips with the group's expectations.\n\n\"Coming out of a bar.\"\n\n\"Drunk?\"\n\n\"Just tipsy.\"\n\n\"Where's your car?\"\n\n\"Parked in a well-lit—\"\n\nDiane's role was to ask questions until Sophie at least half-forgot Marc was back there, but this time he went for surprise by jumping in right away. The flat of his hand struck the small of her back. Sophie all but face-planted into the mat.\n\n\"Roll!\" someone shouted.\n\nIt was too late to somersault back to her feet like some kind of cartoon warrior. She flung herself sideways instead, wheezing. He'd winded her.\n\nMarc was already pouncing, dragging her by her shoulder and a handful of her hair.\n\nSophie turned her head sharply. It was enough to pull her curls out of the glove as she grabbed for his eyes with her free hand. She got a grip on the mesh mask, remembered she was supposed to be screaming, let out one breathless \"No!\" and went for the knee to the groin...\n\n... and, briefly, remembered trying a similar move on a bona-fide monster, its hot, rotten breath and the slick of blood on the floor...\n\nThen she flashed on the sound of her aunt's neck, snapping.\n\nHer knee came up, right on target, and it was a good hit, hard contact.\n\nMark let her go but didn't pretend to collapse.\n\n\"We're over the line,\" he said gently.\n\nIt was true. He'd yanked her over the white chalk smear, the imaginary boundary between life and death.\n\n\"Nice try, Sophie, but he got you,\" Diane affirmed as Sophie sucked air past the shards of glass in her lungs. \"Elke, you're up.\"\n\nYeah, Sophie thought, I'm quite the action hero.\n\nAfter everyone had had a turn, they practiced clobbering inanimate foam targets as hard as they could, yelling \"Commit, commit, commit!\" with every blow. Then they stretched and debriefed on everyone's success in fighting off—or, in her case, not fighting off—Marc.\n\n\"Go home and be safe,\" Diane said finally, a benediction and a dismissal all in one.\n\nThe class was held in a San Francisco community center, a low-slung brick building painted with kids' murals.\n\n\"No ride today?\" a classmate asked as they stepped out into the parking lot. Sophie suspected her classmate had a bit of a crush on her brother. She'd told the woman Bram was gay, but her enthusiasm for him hadn't dimmed.\n\nScanning the lot for her brother's car, Sophie shook her head. \"It's cool. I'll catch BART as far as—\"\n\nA honk interrupted her.\n\nHer heart sank as she recognized her mother.\n\nAmbushed! She checked her phone, but there was no text from Bram.\n\nRegina Hansa was already cracking the passenger door.\n\n\"How did it go?\" she asked, as though they did this every week. Her mother had always favored car rides for parent-child heart-to-hearts. No escape that way.\n\nSophie pressed herself inside, through the thick air. \"I got a few good shots in.\"\n\nThey sat for a minute in silence, her mom not going anywhere, not saying anything.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was a good tactic—Sophie never could let a silence stretch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How'd you find me?\"\n\n\"Bram's got that creepy stalker app installed on his phone. It shows your GPS location.\"\n\n\"You stole Bram's phone?\"\n\n\"Borrowed.\" Her mother held it up.\n\nSophie managed to retrieve the phone without snatching it. \"I don't know what you're thinking, but—\"\n\n\"I'm thinking that when your father and I came home from Sicily you were limping and mopey.\"\n\n\"I don't mope!\"\n\n\"You finally defended your thesis, and then you turned down the job interview at the Scripps Institute. Then there's all the training. I'd just about convinced myself you wanted to apply to the space program. Instead I find you taking\"—her mother's voice rose—\"self-defense classes.\"\n\n\"Mom! Nobody's attacked me.\"\n\nHer mother unknotted slightly.\n\nShe decided I'd been raped just as soon as she realized what I was doing here, Sophie thought.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" she said. \"You weren't meant to worry.\"\n\n\"I wasn't meant to know about this at all, was I?\" Regina started the car and pulled out into the light fog.\n\nWhere to begin? \"I'm taking the class because... I'm filling time. I already told you, I'm waiting to hear about a sailing gig.\"\n\n\"The one you can't tell us about.\"\n\n\"It's not the space program. I thought the self-defense class would be—\"\n\n\"Fun?\"\n\nThis was the point where she should say yes, but Sophie was a rotten liar. Instead, she let out her breath in a whuff.\n\n\"Useful? Like the extra math drills and the knot-tying and the triathlon training and all the time you spend just looking at pictures of, I don't know, sea snails and apparently trying to memorize every single species in the ocean?\"\n\n\"A little training can never hurt, can it?\"\n\n\"Training for what? If it's not NASA, and you haven't been attacked... are you expecting to be?\"\n\nThat was getting uncomfortably close to the truth. \"Mom, watch the road.\"\n\n\"I found the pepper spray on your key ring.\"\n\n\"It's not like that.\" Or it was, but hopefully that was a onetime outlier of a horrible experience.\n\n\"It's not enough that you jump out of airplanes and risk the bends and shark bites every time you go off to pursue your so-called videography career....\"\n\n\"Mom, please. More people are killed by cows every year than sharks.\"\n\n\"So you keep saying, but you're not a farmer, are you? If it's just a diving job, why the secrecy?\"\n\n\"Talking about the secrecy is still talking about it.\"\n\n\"If you'd joined the DEA or some other government agency, you wouldn't be taking community center anti-rape classes. You'd be at Quantico, learning to defend yourself properly. With an enormous gun.\"\n\n\"Federal Agent Sophie, that's me.\" It wasn't a bad idea. Didn't Quantico have programs for civilians?\n\n\"It's not funny.\"\n\nHer mother was trying to wind her up. Get her babbling—play Twenty Questions. Then she could start mining out the truth as Sophie slipped and dropped clues. It was a good strategy. They both knew she was something of a motormouth.\n\nBut Sophie had promised, under threat of having her memory wiped, no less.\n\nAnd the truth might hurt more than her silence. She could imagine her mother's face if she broke: I went looking for my birth parents.\n\nCan of worms, or what?\n\nThe temptation to spill it all rose, as it always did. \"It's an incredibly cool gig, Mom. And important, okay? But I can't talk about it.\"\n\n\"Says who?\"\n\n\"That would be talking about it, Mom.\"\n\n\"You used to tell us everything.\"\n\nHer patience snapped. \"Unlike you. What was it you'd say when I asked about the adoption? 'Confidentiality, in this case, is nonnegotiable.'\"\n\nRegina stamped the brakes, too hard, at a red light. A driver behind them honked as they both snapped up against their seat belts.\n\n\"I would hate to think you've been waiting your entire life to say that.\"\n\n\"What if I was? Twenty-five years ago you do a closed adoption, and whatever I might want to know about it, it's just too bad. Isn't that right?\"\n\nRegina's voice was thready. \"We made a promise.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Sophie said. \"Gave your word, and too bad for me. Shoe's on the other foot now, Mom.\"\n\nHer mother rocked in her seat, clutching the wheel. Sophie fought an urge to open the door while the car was stopped, to just run for it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd never been at odds with her parents before.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 14 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her passion for climbing and diving made them anxious, but they'd worried quietly... well, except for Dad hectoring her to finish her degree and do something worthwhile.\n\nWorthwhile. Intellectual. Safe.\n\nShe stared at the dashboard, digging for something she could say that would help. But it wasn't just that she'd promised—hell, she'd signed nondisclosure agreements and gotten multiple, tiresome, finger-wagging lectures on the subject. There'd been threats of jail, of magically wiping her memories, even, if she blabbed.\n\nSecrecy, secrecy, secrecy.\n\nIn a way, the promises were beside the point, because telling the truth would land her in a facility for the profoundly delusional. She'd found her parents, all right, and they weren't even from Earth.\n\n\"Now there's a supermodel on my damned porch.\"\n\nThe change of subject was so jarring that it took Sophie a second to make sense of her mother's words. \"What?\"\n\nCaptain Garland Parrish, of the private sailing vessel Nightjar, was sitting on their stoop.\n\nThis was going to make things with her parents even worse. All the same, Sophie found herself smiling.\n\nIf he was here, odds were good she was going back to Stormwrack.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Today you will be acting as a writing assistant for a segment of a larger fantasy, pirates, romance story. Your partner will send something and you will write the next 15 sentences. Characters may already be established.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram was the elder statesman of a shared house occupied by a transient roster of graduate students, usually physicists and mathematicians, who were working their way through advanced degrees in the various Bay Area universities. The space was divided so that it had seven bedrooms and was known, on multiple campuses, as Dwarf House. To those in the know, Bram was, predictably, Doc.\n\nThe top floor, a converted attic, was her brother's domain. It had good light on clear days, wood floors, and spartan furnishings. The bed and wardrobe were tiny in comparison to the computer workstation and a big drafting table devoted to whatever research project was serving as Bram's latest obsession.\n\nHer little brother was a bona-fide kid genius. He had been collecting advanced degrees like a hunter gathering game trophies, or a high-altitude climber bagging big peaks, since his early teens.\n\nAs she and Garland disembarked from the cab, one of Bram's roommates was just stubbing out a cigarette near the weathered fence. She got a look at Sophie's tear-streaked face, stepped out of her way, and then did a double take as she took in Garland.\n\n\"Can't talk, sorry,\" Sophie said, hustling past her.\n\nHer adopted brother and biological half-sister were waiting in his room, talking quietly next to a pile of stuff: a duffel full of unbranded, plain-Jane jeans and shirts, a plastic bag jammed with medications, and a pair of fresh diving tanks. Everything was disordered: Verena had searched it, presumably.\n\nSophie had cried herself out in the cab, but at the sight of her brother she almost welled up again.\n\n\"How'd it go with the parents?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Big ugly scene.\" Sniffling, she handed over his phone.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They're freaking out, Bram.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll do what I can.\" Parental inquisitions never bothered him; he'd been fighting with Dad since he was ten.\n\n\"We need to get going,\" Verena said. She was ratcheted tight with tension—no hug on offer there. \"Last chance to come along, Bram.\"\n\n\"Tempting, but we can't both disappear at once.\" He shook his head. \"I've got things going on here.\"\n\n\"Okay. We'll check in with you. Sophie, are you carrying any electronics?\"\n\nSophie handed Bram her phone. \"Want to pat me down?\"\n\nVerena looked like she was considering it.\n\nBe that way. Sophie bent to repack her bags, putting her back between herself and her half-sister as she sorted through the collection of generic casual wear: hardy, easy to wash, suitable for hiking and camping.\n\nAs she zipped the bags shut, she glanced around Bram's room, checking for anything that might expose their research into Stormwrack.\n\nFor the past six months, Bram's worktable had been devoted to the world where Sophie's birth parents had been born.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had reconstructed a map of the world, using information gleaned on their last visit to lay out its enormous oceans and the tiny archipelagos that were its only landmasses. He'd told his roommates he was designing a map for a gaming project. He was a polymath; they just accepted that he'd take it into his head to design an MMORPG in his copious spare time.\n\nNow the incriminating evidence—all their notes and speculations—had been packed away. Bram'd flipped the map to face the wall, instead displaying a photo Sophie had taken in Africa, impala grazing under the watchful gaze of a pride of lions. The broken pieces of Aunt Gale's brass watch were out of sight, too, probably hidden under his model of the TARDIS from Doctor Who. There was no visible sign that either of them had given Stormwrack much thought.\n\n\"Stop fussing with your stuff.\" Bram took her by the shoulders. \"Be safe, Ducks.\"\n\n\"Don't call me that,\" she said, bumping her forehead against his. Best you stay here. Safe and out of trouble.\n\nOne last hug. \"You better come back.\"\n\n\"I'm not on a one-way shuttle to Saturn.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah.\" He had that pale look, the one he got when he was trying to be brave.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Like Dad, she thought, and guilt surged again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "<<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'there' must be used 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Find some way to keep in touch.\"\n\nVerena pulled a palm-size pewter clock from a satchel and drew first Parrish and then Sophie to within touching distance of both her and the stack of luggage. They fell silent, and the ticking of the timepiece took over. Sophie's vision swam, the temperature dropped, and there was a wobble that felt like her ankles giving. But it was the deck of a ship, suddenly underfoot and rocking with the rhythm of the sea.\n\nNightjar was a seventy-two-foot cutter with a crew of twenty-five. It had been enchanted so that it was ever-so-slightly inconspicuous, easily overlooked by casual observers.\n\nThey were out on the oceans of Stormwrack, the world whose existence she'd promised to keep from her parents—from everyone on Earth.\n\nExcitement burned through her, banishing the physical fatigue from self-defense class, frying even the guilt over the scene with Mom and Dad. This entire world, unexplored, was filled with mysteries and new species. Its very existence raised questions about the nature of the universe. She and Bram were going to unlock them....\n\n\"What's our position?\" Sophie said. She had expected they'd be in or near the Fleet, the massive seagoing city that was the world's capital, but there were no other ships in sight.\n\n\"Northwater,\" Parrish said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verena shot him a look that seemed to say, pretty clearly, Shut up. What she said was: \"We can catch the Fleet in a couple days.\"\n\nVerena was seventeen, eight years younger than Sophie and, as far as anyone had known until recently, the only child of their mother, Beatrice Vanko. Beatrice had given Sophie up at birth, to the Hansas.\n\nSophie had only just met the two women, mother and sister, six months ago. They all three had dark brown eyes that seemed just a little big and widely spaced—Bram called them anime eyes—but Verena's face was more angular than Sophie's, her nose a bit sharper, her chin a fox tip. She wore her hair pulled back in a screamingly tight ponytail that made the eyes seem even bigger.\n\nShe packed away the pewter clock and turned to Sophie with an air of bracing herself for a disagreement.\n\n\"What's up?\"\n\n\"You swear you didn't smuggle in any scientific equipment? Cameras, electronic measuring devices like that laser range finder Bram brought last time...\"\n\n\"You've searched my bags. Anyway, the cameras are here; you confiscated them.\" Sophie wasn't offended; she was too happy to be here again, here in this puzzle of a world. \"Are they aboard?\"\n\n\"No,\" Verena replied. \"And I'm to ask you to promise you won't do any research while you're here.\"\n\n\"That's ridiculous!\" Sophie said. \"I'm not promising anything.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I told Annela you'd say that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Verena cast a last glance at the bags.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In that case, she says, we have to limit your access to information.\"\n\n\"Information about what?\"\n\n\"About anything. About everything.\"\n\nVerena was far too serious for seventeen. Today she wore a tunic that left her arms free for sword fighting. It hung to her thighs, over tight-fitting ankle-length breeches. Would that make it a kirtle? None of it was green in color, but Sophie found herself reminded of Peter Pan.\n\n\"That is just—are you going to bag my head, then? What does Annela think I'm going to do?\"\n\n\"Find out a bunch of stuff about Stormwrack and then text it to the White House? Then a bunch of aircraft carriers will get in and wreak havoc—\"\n\n\"Until you sink them using magic. Which would take about five minutes, right?\"\n\nVerena shrugged. \"The government regards you as unreliable, Sophie. The few people who know about Erstwhile pretty much see us as an armed barbarian hoard, gnawing on the gates of civilization.\"\n\n\"If I'm so dangerous, why let me back in now?\"\n\nVerena gave the plastic bag of painkillers and sunscreen one last, sour look. \"Court stuff. The case with Mom.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie's birth parents had married against their family's wishes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stormwrack had a lot of countries, all of them islands, all tiny by Earth standards—and when Beatrice Feliachild of Verdanii had married Clydon Banning of Sylvanna, their prenup had been as complex as an international treaty. It had allowed divorce but only until the marriage produced kids.\n\nBeatrice wanted out of the marriage, badly enough to give up her firstborn, to hide her in San Francisco. When Sophie found her way to Stormwrack, the deception had blown up in her birth mother's face. She'd been charged with fraud, breach of contract, and bigamy.\n\n\"Basically, Mom's been denied bail,\" Verena said. \"She's confined to the Verdanii sailing vessel Breadbasket—\"\n\n\"Until her trial?\"\n\n\"That's just it. The case is deadlocked. She's stuck here and my dad\"—by this she meant Beatrice's second husband, in San Francisco—\"he's losing his mind.\"\n\n\"What am I supposed to do about it?\"\n\n\"It may be,\" Parrish said, \"that your father, Sophie, could exert his influence to speed the judicial process.\"\n\n\"Ah ha. You're hoping I'll talk him into mellowing.\"\n\n\"His Honor did seem taken with you. With the idea of having a child.\"\n\n\"Why shouldn't he?\"\n\nParrish smiled. \"I'm sure anyone would be pleased.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie found herself momentarily flustered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "// Mandatory: Your text must contain 'verena' 2 times exactly", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verena coughed. \"There've been unofficial hints that if he could see you again, it might loosen the red tape.\"\n\n\"Of course I'll talk to him,\" Sophie said. \"I got into all this to meet my birth relations, remember? I want to know Cly better.\"\n\nParrish and Verena shared a look: Beatrice's side of Sophie's newfound family seemed to have an extremely bad opinion of Cly Banning. But any reply either of them might have made was interrupted by a cry from the fore of the ship: \"Coming up on the wreck, Captain!\"\n\nThey rushed to the bow.\n\nThe derelict was sun-bleached, riding high in the water, and listing slightly. Its main deck was scorched and its hatches had been torn from their hinges. Salt, or what looked like salt, was sprayed across its boards. Bird droppings fouled the decks and the rails; the water around it had an oily look.\n\n\"Whitebirds. There must have been shellfish aboard,\" said someone behind her.\n\nSophie cried out, happy to have been startled. \"Tonio!\" She practically pirouetted into a hug.\n\n\"Ah, ginagina, it's good to see you!\"\n\nThe ship's first mate was a compact and clever-looking man in his early twenties, relentlessly cheery and utterly loyal to Parrish.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "When Sophie had seen him last, he'd been carrying a weight of grief—they all had—over the murder of the Nightjar's owner, Gale Feliachild, Sophie and Verena's aunt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now that some time had passed, she could see more spark in him, a zest that had been dampened before.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No Bram?\" he asked, kissing her cheek. \"What a shame.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not this time,\" she replied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[Author's note: Remember to mention: \"We spotted the wreck about two hours ago,\"]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They all look better. Verena looked drawn, after Gale's murder, and Parrish...\n\nWell, with Parrish it was impossible to tell. The last time she'd seen him, she'd been flirting with a man she'd met at sea, and the good captain had taken it upon himself to get all flustered and run off—\n\n\"What's with this, Tonio?\" Verena said.\n\n\"We spotted the wreck about two hours ago,\" he said. \"After you and Captain went... you know, to find Sophie.\"\n\n\"Doesn't look like there's anyone aboard.\"\n\n\"No. She appears to have been attacked and abandoned. There've been rumors of raids. But the birds—there must have been something for them to eat aboard after she was set adrift, or it wouldn't be such a mess.\"\n\nSophie felt a little chill. \"Not a body?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Maybe. But look for yourself.\"\n\nShe did. There were mussel shells aplenty, mixed in with the piles of salt, but nothing that hinted at human remains: no bones, no clothes.\n\n\"Why not burn it?\" Verena said. \"If someone raided it?\"\n\n\"Looks like they tried.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie pointed at the wheel, which was blackened and scorched.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A burned-out bucket sat beside it.\n\n\"Maybe it rained,\" Tonio said.\n\nSophie's attention had been drawn past the ship. \"There's someone out there.\"\n\nTonio squinted, reaching for a spyglass at his hip. \"Are you sure?\"\n\nVerena pointed. \"There!\"\n\nHe or she was about a hundred yards off, draped over a hunk of log, and for all they were moving, they might have been dead.\n\n\"Helm, come about!\" Tonio ordered.\n\nThe figure's head came up, as if it had heard, and its log rolled. Distant arms flailed to maintain a grip.\n\nSophie didn't hesitate. She skinned off her jacket and jeans and leapt to the ship's rail, diving into the water. There was an exhilarating rush of air as she fell, then the silken, chilly kiss of the sea rippling through her T-shirt.\n\nShe came up, checked her direction, and swam for all she was worth, distantly registering a splash that meant someone had followed her. Parrish?\n\nDon't go under, she thought at the drifting figure.\n\nFor six months, all those long days when she'd been awaiting a chance to return to Stormwrack, Sophie had trained.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd upped her endurance training, going for a long run or a swim daily, and hit the gym hard, too, building her core strength.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd defended her master's thesis in biology, renewed her first aid certifications, and got some extra coaching from a diving instructor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd also gotten serious about meditation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't tell a therapist where she'd been or that she'd witnessed a murder. Meditating seemed the best way to deal with the nightmares and anxiety created by the violence she'd encountered here on her earlier visit.\n\nThe physical preparation, at least, was paying off. A satisfying bounty of healthy energy sang through every muscle as she cut through the water.\n\nThe figure in the water was a woman—no, a girl. She had lost her precarious grip on the log and was batting feebly at the surface of the sea. Her face was grotesquely sunburned.\n\n\"Stay calm,\" Sophie shouted in her most authoritative voice—and then, as she realized she'd said it in English, she switched to Fleet and yelled again.\n\nShe caught the girl by the arm, alert for panic—if she freaked out, they might both drown. Instead she coughed and obligingly went limp.\n\n\"You must save him,\" she begged.\n\n\"You're okay, you're all right.\" The girl had a huge bruise behind her left ear. Had someone hit her?\n\nSophie secured a rescue grip, confirmed that there was no \"him\" immediately handy to save, and saw Verena about ten yards behind her, swimming with a lozenge-shaped flotation device and trailing a rope.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The crew had brought Nightjar around in a gentle curve that had halved the distance between them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Here.\" Verena tossed the float ahead and swam to catch up. Treading, they worked together to tie the girl to the float. Verena signaled the crew and they began to reel her in.\n\n\"She says there's someone else.\"\n\n\"Nobody in sight,\" Verena said, between breaths. They treaded and turned, in opposite directions, double-checking. \"Maybe on the derelict?\"\n\n\"Hope so.\"\n\nThe girl moaned.\n\n\"Just a kid,\" Sophie said.\n\nHer half-sister blew salt water in a sputter. \"Fourteen, fifteen. Here, that's a grown-up.\"\n\nGreat, I've offended her. Verena might be seventeen, but most of the time she seemed to act a testy fifty.\n\nShe had been warming to me, Sophie thought. Something's wrong.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rather than sit out in the water chatting and losing body heat, they focused on getting their charge aboard ship. Parrish had the crew lower a sling and they eased her into it. Then Tonio dropped a net into the water and Verena and Sophie clambered back up to the main deck.\n\n\"Carry her to the forward cabin,\" Parrish said. \"Sophie, we're displacing you before you're even settled.\"\n\n\"Doesn't the ship have an infirmary?\" Sophie said. She had pulled a leg muscle during her last visit, and that time Parrish had carried her to his cabin.\n\nA brief memory of that—being lifted in his arms, him settling her on his bunk—momentarily distracted her from here and now.\n\nParrish shrugged. He was keeping his eyes up, on her face, and Sophie realized she was soaked to the skin and dressed in nothing but a thin T-shirt and a pair of purple-striped bikini briefs.\n\n\"She said, 'Save him,'\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Beal,\" he said. \"Up the mast with the outlander binoculars—have a good look.\"\n\n\"Yes, Kir.\"\n\nHe turned to Tonio. \"Take two crewmen aboard the derelict and make sure there's nobody aboard. Find the ship's log if you can.\"\n\nSomeone handed Sophie a heated blanket and a mug of heavily milked tea; Verena, too.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Can I go with them?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll go,\" Verena said, a bit sharply.\n\nParrish said, \"If you wouldn't mind looking at the girl, Sophie—our medical officer left us recently.\"\n\n\"Richler's gone? Sure, okay.\"\n\n\"Cannon on deck,\" Parrish ordered, and one of the other crew took up the cry.\n\nA dozen questions rose to Sophie's lips, but Parrish had already walked away.\n\nNever mind. Parrish had his hands full, and she probably could figure out the rest.\n\n\"Someone clocked the kid,\" she said to Verena. \"You're making sure they're not aboard the derelict.\"\n\n\"Her attacker or the mysterious 'him' she was babbling about. They probably tossed the girl overboard and sailed off, but...\"\n\n\"And... 'cannon'?\"\n\nVerena nodded as a rangy-looking guy, fiftyish, with huge eyes and black skin, stepped onto the main deck carrying a wooden keg full of black sand. \"Krezzo.\"\n\n\"An... oddity?\" Sophie took a second look. The man didn't appear unusually brawny; there were no overt signs of magic about him. His hands were a little flat—scooplike, she thought.\n\n\"A transform. We say 'transform' if they look like people,\" Verena said, voice low.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oddities have visible characteristics of animals or plants.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Sophie committed the fact to memory.\n\n\"Also, it's insulting.\"\n\n\"So transforms are regarded as useful members of society, but oddities are kind of freaks?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but—\" Verena broke off, scowling. \"Dammit, stop info gathering!\"\n\n\"Stop me,\" Sophie told her. Verena didn't return her grin.\n\nA female sailor called from below, \"Kir Feliachild. Do you know where Cap'n means to put Kir Hansa?\"\n\n\"Maybe she can bunk with Sweet for a day or two?\" She looked at Sophie. \"Now I suppose you want to know why the shuffle.\"\n\nSophie thought about what she remembered of the layout: crew quarters, guest cabins, and a galley between decks, with the hold for storage below. \"If 'my' cabin is that double room aft... it locks from the outside, doesn't it?\"\n\nVerena nodded. \"She got coshed on the head and dumped. It's possible there was a reason.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She didn't look dangerous.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie felt a weird sense of dislocation. People weren't dangerous at home—well, they were, but not usually to her.\n\n\"Nightjar doesn't have a brig, and a lot of the bulkheads are mobile. The aft guest cabin has fixed bulkheads and a locking door; it essentially doubles as a holding cell.\"\n\n\"So maybe the girl is a victim, or maybe she did something to warrant getting tossed off a ship? What could possibly rate that?\"\n\nVerena didn't take the bait this time, just shrugged.\n\nSophie made her way belowdecks, through a hatch, down a ladder to the galley, then aft to the improvised brig. An auburn-haired sailor passed her going the other way, carrying her duffel.\n\n\"Hold up,\" she said, grabbing an opportunity to snatch out a dry pair of jeans and a shirt.\n\n\"I've got drugs in there, too.\" She slid into the jeans, managing the awkward transaction of freeing up the plastic bag full of pills and bandages.\n\nThe sailor tugged out a small hand towel. \"Want me to fetch the medical officer's kit?\"\n\n\"Definitely. Thanks.\" Giving up on the juggling act, she dropped the pills on the floor, toweled off, and switched into the dry T-shirt. \"You're Sweet, right? The bosun's assistant?\"\n\n\"Bosun now.\" The woman looked pleased that Sophie had remembered her name. \"Of Redcap Island.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I hear we're rooming together,\" Sophie said. \"Sorry about that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're welcome. Unless you snore?\"\n\n\"Nobody's complained.\" Sophie scooped up the pills again and headed aft. \"Nice to see you again.\"\n\nThe crew had pulled back the bedcovers but laid the girl on the floor leaving her also for Sophie to examine.\n\nNo point in putting her abed until she's dry, Sophie thought.\n\n\"Okay.\" Sophie said. \"You're not bleeding, and we've already moved you once. There doesn't seem to be any harm in drying you off and warming you up.\"\n\nShe didn't have any scissors and found herself forced to untie the belt knotted around the girl's pantaloons and then fight the wet fabric off her legs.\n\nShe talked as she worked: \"We're going to help you, it'll be okay, nobody's going to hurt you now.\"\n\nNo response.\n\nThe pantaloons were crudely made, of a wool spun from some kind of coarse animal hair. Goat? As Sophie pulled them free, Sweet reappeared and nudged an empty basin at her. She dumped them inside, the better to keep the floor dry.\n\nThe girl wore an anklet that looked to have been made of pieces of horn.\n\n\"Dry her legs,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The shirt was easily unbuttoned, but working it over the sunburns on her arms was a delicate job.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The girl moaned but did not wake.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She'll be dehydrated as well as cold,\" Sweet said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word count directive: Use 'maybe' exactly 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe we can get her to swallow some broth?\" The two of them lifted her into bed. \"Chicken? Fish? Warm but not hot?\"\n\n\"I'll ask Cook,\" Sweet said. \"Richler left a burn salve, if you don't have one.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" She dug in the wooden box for it. It smelled of aloe pulp and maybe a bit of peppermint. She tried a patch of it on a two-inch square of healthy flesh on the girl's shoulder, waiting to see if any kind of allergic reaction manifested. When it didn't, she smeared the rest on the burns on the girl's arms, back, and face. Her inner arms, where she'd been clinging to the piece of driftwood, were less burned. Her hands bore a dense crisscrossing of what looked to be cat scratches. Sophie salved those, too.\n\nThen she looked at the bruise behind her ear. If she probed it, would she be able to tell if the skull was fractured?\n\nNo. She wasn't a doctor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "At home, she'd have long since called an ambulance so they could zoom the injured girl off to a nice clean hospital for an MRI.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anything could have done this. You might have hit your head accidentally. A loose spar, tripping on deck...\"\n\nHer mother's words came back: You haven't been attacked—are you expecting to be?\n\nWas this going to be her life? Longing for a chance to explore Stormwrack whenever she was home in San Francisco but then at hazard and perpetually culture shocked when she was here?\n\nSweet returned with the broth. They propped the girl's head up, just a bit, and took turns spooning tiny sips into her mouth. She swallowed about half the time; the rest dribbled out.\n\n\"I can sit with her, Kir,\" said Sweet, once they'd done all they could.\n\n\"Okay, thanks.\" Sophie's eye fell on a thick envelope sitting on the bedside table. \"Was this for me?\"\n\n\"I meant to move it with the rest of your things.\"\n\n\"No problem,\" she said absently. The envelope had one of those old-fashioned wax seals—though the color was royal blue rather than red or black—and its paper was thick, more board than page.\n\nSophie cracked the seal and found, folded within the board, three sheets of delicate, onionskin paper, bordered top and bottom by rough edges that hinted they'd been cut with a paper knife. Two were blank. The third was crammed with dense black letters, elegantly formed, that had soaked through the page.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was from her birth father.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dearest Sophie, the letter began,", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'fleet'", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I learned of your existence, it was barely spring. Now summer will soon be waning; autumn thrusts her eager face into the Northern Hemisphere, blowing cold winds ahead of her as the Fleet of Nations makes ready for its great annual cruise across Northwater.\n\nI have been much engaged with those in the Convene and the Watch who keep secrets for the government, ensuring them of my discretion and taking many oaths, and so I have been privileged (and astonished!) to learn a certain amount about the outland regime where you spent your youth.\n\n\"What is it, Sophie?\" Parrish was at the hatch.\n\n\"The Convene told Cly about San Francisco. About Earth, I mean.\"\n\n\"Erstwhile,\" Parrish corrected quietly. The few Stormwrackers who had heard of Earth at all seemed to think it was a remote island nation, somewhere the Fleet never sailed—and not a member of its 250 island nations. They thought it was a place someone could reach on a ship.\n\nThey tell me it is a place of wonders, unbelievable savagery, demonic entities, and wasteful habits, but that you, my child, were raised in comfort and security. For this, naturally, I am grateful.\n\nBut sentiment is not my purpose. In your absence I have not been idle—I have, among other things, successfully documented proof of paternity. I may very nearly call myself your father now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn: write with a small amount of dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The next step, if you wish to claim me, would be to have you recognized a daughter of my home nation, Sylvanna.\n\nI am on leave from my Judiciary duties; I would suggest a short visit to introduce you to the place, and to acquaint us with each other.\n\nI await your soonest reply and enclose papers to that end. Until then, I remain your eager servant,\n\nThe Honorable Clydon Eblis Banning, Duelist-Advocate for the Fleet of Nations.\n\nSophie refolded the letter. Parrish's eyes were on her.\n\n\"He wants me to meet his people,\" she said. \"Go to Sylvanna, grand tour, all that.\"\n\n\"As a starboard nation, Sylvanna—\" Just then, the castaway moaned and opened her eyes.\n\nSophie took the girl's hand. The red of her sunburn was more vivid against the starched whiteness of the sheets.\n\n\"Where am I?\" she managed. Her lips were cracked, her voice almost gone. Her Fleet accent was thick, barely comprehensible.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aboard the sailing vessel Nightjar,\" Parrish told her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Incorporate this exact phrase, preserving the quotation marks: \"Two nights and three days. They're ahead.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We found you in the water. Do you know how long—\"\n\n\"Two nights and three days. They're ahead.\" An expression of desperation crossed her face.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"You must make for Tibbon's Wash, Kirs. I beg you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Sophie said. \"What's up?\"\n\n\"My only—my beloved. His name is Rashad.\" She struggled to sit. \"Rashad swore that if I did not return from this voyage, he would take his own life.\"\n\n\"Tibbon's Wash is home?\" Sophie asked.\n\nThe girl nodded. \"I sought the Queen's favor; it's the only way for us to marry. Without permission...\"\n\n\"Royal permission?\" Sophie said. \"Because you're in agriculture and Rashad is...\"\n\nParrish gave her a faint, surprised look.\n\n\"Rashad is every noble thing you can imagine,\" the girl protested.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He is generous, beautiful—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "meta: 💬 Please integrate this quote: \"How did you know I was a goatherd?\"", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But forbidden?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"His parents own a great fishing fleet.\" She frowned. \"How did you know I was a goatherd?\"\n\n\"From your stuff.\"\n\n\"What are you called, Kir?\" Parrish interjected.\n\n\"Corsetta.\"\n\n\"How did you end up in the water?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Rashad's brother, Montaro, offered to make a sailor of me. To take me in pursuit of the Queen's favor. Our task was to tame a snow vulture. I'm good with animals. If I could do it, my way would be cleared.\"\n\nSophie asked, \"What's in it for Montaro?\"\n\n\"The vulture,\" she said. \"We use their eggs in an inscription.\"\n\n\"And you had no luck?\"\n\n\"I befriended the bird.\" Corsetta sighed. \"Montaro's men took it and tossed me overboard.\"\n\nParrish asked, \"And the derelict?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nothing to do with me!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her reply was hasty; she was hiding something.\n\nParrish went on: \"Someone attacked that ship, that much is obvious. Its crew—\"\n\n\"I tried to swim to the derelict, to save myself. That's all I know. Please, Kir! Montaro didn't believe me about Rashad's oath. You must help. He'll die!\"\n\nNightjar corrected suddenly; Corsetta involuntarily gripped the bedsheets, as if she felt about to tumble out of her cot. Parrish seemed unaffected; whatever was up, he trusted Tonio to take care of it.\n\n\"We must make for my homeland at full sail,\" Corsetta mumbled. She was losing consciousness again.\n\n\"We'll do what we can, Corsetta,\" Parrish told her. \"Rest.\"\n\nThey left her to sleep.\n\nNightjar had been brought alongside the derelict, close enough for boarding; the two ships were very nearly lashed together. Tonio was overseeing a delicate operation; a lifeboat had been lowered to the derelict's deck. Long coils of rope connected it to Nightjar. The cannoneer, Krezzo, had set his arsenal aside and was standing ready at the rope.\n\n\"What is it?\" Parrish asked.\n\n\"Another survivor,\" Tonio said, and his expression was unmistakably satisfied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He pointed at Verena, who was climbing into the lifeboat, holding a wrapped something in a blanket.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie's breath caught. \"Not a baby?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Kir, nothing like that,\" Tonio said.\n\n\"It's a cat, isn't it?\" Parrish said.\n\nShe remembered him, suddenly, sitting on her mother's porch with Muffins, counting the cat's extra toes, looking sexy and sensitive, as though he were posing for a poster slated to go up on a thousand moony girls' bedroom walls.\n\n\"There's something I'm missing here.\"\n\nKrezzo and the others began hauling the ropes, raising the lifeboat. As it rose alongside, the other members of the crew balanced it so that Verena wasn't bounced against the rail or the sides of the cutter. \"I like cats—don't get me wrong. But from the look on all your faces, you'd think we'd found a bag of diamonds.\"\n\nParrish said, \"Cats are hunters. They're a danger to birds, fish, small rodents....\"\n\n\"Sure, yeah.\" Cats transported by sailors had wrought their share of devastation on island ecosystems at home, too. They'd done incredible damage in Australia to the marsupials.\n\n\"Their kind is cursed. If a cat leaves the protection of its home isle, it must ever after be aboard a ship. No cat who leaves the protection of a seacraft may live.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"If it falls into the sea or sets a paw on an island without cats, it dies,\" Verena explained.\n\nBy now the lifeboat was up above the rail—the crew guided it down to the deck, between mainmast and foremast. Tonio reached for the bundle and unwrapped an ordinary if emaciated gray tabby with enormous green eyes and a strangely mashed look to its ears.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had a thin orange collar, braided from goat-spun rags.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So much for Corsetta having nothing to do with the derelict.\n\n\"Captain,\" Tonio said, bowing. \"May I present the newest member of our crew?\"\n\nParish broke out into a dazzling grin and said, \"Have Cook spoil him rotten, Tonio.\"\n\n\"Won't earn his keep mousing if you do that.\"\n\n\"It's string and fire,\" the cannoneer opined. \"Feed'm up a little or he'll keel.\"\n\n\"Take it below. And keep it away from the ship's ferret until they're an even match.\" With that, Parrish turned. \"Did you find anything else?\"\n\n\"Derelict's stripped to the very boards,\" Tonio said. \"Old bloodstains but no bodies. No papers, but I think she might have been from Tug Island.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"No reason you need,\" Verena said, before Tonio could reply.\n\nParrish gave Sophie the barest hint of a sympathetic glance.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Cast off the derelict.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Cap'n!\" Sailors scrambled to obey.\n\n\"Krezzo?\"\n\n\"Ready!\" The cannoneer scooped black sand from his barrel, molding it into two perfect spheres, as if he were a kid prepping for a snowball fight. He waited until Nightjar had cleared the ship.\n\n\"Fire when ready.\"\n\nKrezzo cracked the spheres together—there was a sound like a thunderclap—and thrust his fists forward. Flames rushed up his arms and both globes seemed to explode out of his palms, leaving smoking trails in the still air. He had aimed for the main deck of the derelict and they punched through handily, spreading fire across it with a deceptively gentle puff of smoke.\n\n\"What about our young Juliet?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Who?\" Verena asked.\n\n\"Miss True Love. Finding Corsetta here, near the derelict—it's possible she's one of the raiders.\"\n\n\"Couldn't she be part of their crew?\" asked Parrish.\n\n\"If so, why not admit it?\" Verena asked.\n\n\"She's lying about something. Maybe whole bunches of things,\" Sophie said, filling them in on the little Corsetta had told her.\n\n\"I do believe her about Romeo and a suicide pact... you say she's panicked,\" Verena said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do we swing her by... what island was it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 12 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tibbon's Wash. Tibbs, sometimes. From the port side,\" Parrish said. \"No, it's too far.\"\n\nSophie chewed on that. \"Be a shame if the boy of her dreams did himself in before they had a chance to outgrow the infatuation naturally.\"\n\n\"There's nothing natural about falling out of love.\" Parrish frowned. \"Her partners will have made for the Fleet, to sell the snow vulture's eggs. We'll hope to catch them and send a message on to Tibbon's Wash. But...\"\n\n\"But what?\"\n\n\"Corsetta is sunstruck,\" Parrish said. \"She may yet die.\"\n\nHer suspicion of Corsetta, paired with the adolescent high drama of it all, had made Sophie forget, momentarily that they were talking about a gravely wounded teenager. \"We'll bring her through it,\" she vowed.\n\nHe smiled, ducking his head in agreement he might not have truly felt.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "NarrativeBot: 129 sentences sentences. Match character familiarity. fantasy, pirates, romance genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She spent the night watching the patient, keeping her hydrated and comfortable. Corsetta half-woke, periodically, moaning in her own language. Mostly it was a mishmash of her boyfriend's name and mournful protests—in her dreams, Sophie thought, her fear that the faraway boy would indeed kill himself was fully realized.\n\nDo your parents know where you are? Are they worried?\n\nThe bruise behind her left ear was a black welt, colorful and knotty under her hair, a swelling profound enough to make her moan when she turned her head. Sophie had read that half the danger with such blows came on the opposite side of the skull—that when you got hit, your brain bounced, mashing up against the bone. If you had a hematoma, that was where it would be. Was that why her right eye was bloodshot?\n\nIf it was, there wasn't anything she could do about it. There were no books on brain surgery lying about.\n\nThe cat—Tonio had named it Banana—appeared once or twice to nose at Corsetta, further giving the lie to her claim to be unconnected to the derelict. It hissed at Sophie, mooched at the bowl of broth, then vanished again.\n\nIf you excluded potential brain damage, Corsetta's worst injury was to the backs of her hands and forearms. They'd been exposed to the sun the whole time she'd clung to that log, and the burns were terrible. If they became infected, she'd be facing double amputation.\n\nAt least nobody had forbidden Sophie her cache of drugs.\n\nBy morning, Corsetta was sleeping more easily and Verena had come to relieve her. \"How's she doing?\"\n\nSophie handed her the amoxycillin and said, \"I'm giving her a couple pills every six hours with broth.\"\n\n\"We'll be Fleetside by nightfall. You should sleep.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said, but despite the fact that she'd been sitting by a sickbed in a near torpor for hours, she was suddenly keyed up and alert. Her gaze fell on a empty cabinet strapped to the wall. \"Did Gale's books get moved—are they in Parrish's cabin?\"\n\n\"We gave them away,\" Verena said. \"You're not supposed to be snooping, remember?\"\n\n\"I was hoping for something on treating burns in the Middle Ages.\"\n\n\"The antibiotics and that leftover salve are probably the best thing,\" Verena said, yawning.\n\nFeeling frustrated, she headed back to the fore crew quarters.\n\nCome on, Sofe, an inner voice—Bram's voice—urged. You gonna let them stop us after you worked so hard to prepare?\n\nShe cracked open the hatch of her temporary quarters. It was clean and spare, with a walk-in closet and a double bunk, a dresser, and a tiny writing desk. The bosun, Sweet, was sleeping on the top bunk.\n\nSophie's bag was neatly stowed under the bed.\n\nA map of the world, with its hundreds of tiny islands, was barely visible in the dim light from the lantern in the corridor. She lay a finger on it, thinking about the neat, hand-drawn map in Bram's room.\n\nHis work's nicer, she thought. The sense of missing him was both an ache and, somehow, pleasant.\n\nShe went up to the main deck and checked the skies. They were nice and clear, all the undeniably familiar constellations present and accounted for.\n\n\"Morning, Kir,\" said the helmsman, Beal, politely.\n\n\"Hi,\" she said. \"Um, are we making good time?\"\n\nA nod. \"See there? It's the Cairn Sistrienne lighthouse.\"\n\n\"We're how far off it?\"\n\nHe squinted, quoting distance and direction.\n\nShe memorized the numbers. \"Dawn's how soon?\"\n\n\"Two hours and fifteen, Kir.\"\n\n\"And,\" Cly's letter had said it was past the solstice, \"how long since midsummer?\"\n\n\"Eighteen dawns.\"\n\nHa, she thought, by our calendar, it's July ninth, then. \"I bet you've got a sextant, haven't you?\"\n\nHe handed it over without a second thought.\n\nSince her first visit to Stormwrack, Sophie had spent considerable time working on her low-tech sailing skills; practically the only times she'd left dry land were to hitch rides on tall ships. She and Bram had practiced figuring out latitude and longitude the old-fashioned way. Now she took a sight on the North Star's position and its distance from the moon. Thanking the crewman, she made her way back to her cabin.\n\nThe little writing desk had one nub of a pencil, two fountain pens, and an old ballpoint from a gas station in San Francisco. There was no paper, but Cly had enclosed a few blank sheets with his letter.\n\nShe sat, took a second to recall the navigational math she'd recently acquired, and started calculating.\n\nFiguring out where she was on Stormwrack itself was no great trick: people were only too happy to stick a pin on a chart for you, and if you could get a good look at the sky, you could calculate your location easily enough. But Stormwrack and Earth—Erstwhile, she heard Parrish reminding her—had identical moons and the same night sky, and approximately the same rate of rotation. As far as Sophie could tell, this world was home—the same planet, in other words. But was it a parallel dimension or simply a different time?\n\nWould her world become this one, or was this some sort of an alternate?\n\nWith the information she and Bram had gathered on the last trip, they had already figured out that the Stormwrackers' measurement of latitude hadn't changed. The position of the equator was fixed, and you could only be so far north or south. The question was longitude: on Earth, it was counted from zero from the prime meridian, which passed through Greenwich in England. Here...\n\nShe scratched through the math, double-checked it, and stared up at the chart on the wall.\n\n\"North Atlantic.\" She breathed. \"Northwater is in the North Atlantic.\"\n\nShe felt a surge of pride as she looked it over. Verena could stop her from carrying cameras and computers from world to world. She could hide Gale's library, but she couldn't stop her from memorizing facts or making deductions. With one landmark pinpointed, she could work out the location of the great nations and everything else.\n\nWhere's this lighthouse Beal mentioned? She found the spot the helmsman had indicated, Nightjar's actual location near Cairn Sistrienne. Then she mentally superimposed the map of Earth overtop. Zero longitude here definitely wasn't located in England—in fact, it was at another lighthouse, on a nation called Verdanii. Her mother's home island.\n\nThat puts the Verdanii capital, Moscasipay, in the middle of where North America should be. Sophie put her hand on the edge of the map's biggest island.\n\nSylvanna's east and south of Verdanii. In terms of latitude and longitude, it's near... would that be about Tennessee?\n\nSylvanna was close to its nearest neighbor, far closer than most islands—possibly even within swimming distance, depending on the currents. Haversham, she read. There was a narrow and knotty-looking passage between the two, dotted with little points that might have been islets or an indication of a border.\n\nShe spent a few minutes polishing up her notes and then memorizing the numbers. She only needed a few fixed points for Bram. He could do all this comparison and calculation on a finer scale.\n\nWhen she turned back to the writing desk and her page of math, words were scrawling themselves across the bottom of the page in a heavy, not-at-all-pretty hand.\n\n> WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP AT ONCE!\n\nShe pulled up to the desk, looked at her stub of pencil, and wrote: Cly?\n\n> GOOD MORNING, DAUGHTER! scratched itself across the page. WHERE ARE YOU?\n\nWas there any point in concealing their position? No. She felt a weird rush of relief—for once, she didn't have to keep any secrets. PASSING THE CAIRN SISTRIENNE LIGHT.\n\n> SO CLOSE! ARE YOU WELL?\n\nFINE. YOU? She was writing in tiny letters, to save the paper she'd half-covered in calculations, and was suddenly conscious that they were wasting their limited bandwidth on pleasantries.\n\n\"Dammit,\" she whispered. \"Why didn't someone tell me the blank pages were for texting? Wait, I know: because Verena has orders to sabotage me at every turn.\"\n\n> IN GOOD HEALTH AND SPIRITS. SO PLEASED YOU HAVE RETURNED!\n\nShe couldn't help but smile. Her birth mother, Beatrice, had been violently unhappy when Sophie had approached her. Cly had been all warmth from the beginning.\n\n> WILL YOU COME TO SYLVANNA?\n\nAll warmth... and more than a little pushy.\n\n> THINKING ABOUT IT, she wrote. TALK WHEN I GET TO FLEET, OK?\n\n> OF COURSE. DON'T WASTE THE MESSAGEPLY.\n\n> ONE THING, she added. CREW OF A SHIP AT THIS POSITION TOSSED A GIRL OVERBOARD 3 DAYS AGO, NAME OF CORSETTA FROM TIBBON'S WASH. SEE IF THEY'VE REACHED FLEET?\n\n> MY WORD ON IT. SAFE SEAS, DAUGHTER. The last word was crammed in the corner, filling the last bit of blank space, which saved her the dilemma of how to sign off.\n\n> CYA L8R? LUV SOPHIE? SAFE SEAS BACK ATCHA?\n\nShe looked at the remaining blank page, but Cly had obviously decided to save it.\n\nBy dawn they were seeing wakelights, the small illuminated buoys that spellscribes dropped in the water behind the Fleet, marking its passage for anyone seeking to meet them. The lights were protein globes that floated on the water's surface, alight with bioluminescent sculptures, glowing roses, a horse, a dancer.\n\nParrish had given the order to bend every sail, catching every breath of wind to get them to the Fleet as fast as possible, the better to catch Corsetta's would-be killers before they could sail for home. Sophie told him about the page of paper at breakfast, filling him and Verena in on her conversation with Cly, watching their faces carefully to see what they might betray.\n\nParrish's mind, at least, was on Corsetta. \"Good thinking. His Honor should be able to have them questioned.\"\n\n\"Not detained?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"I suspect Corsetta isn't telling the whole truth. If the brother, Montaro, is convincing...\"\n\n\"They should give her the benefit of the doubt,\" Verena said. \"She's half-dead down there.\"\n\n\"She's not telling us the truth,\" Sophie put in. \"She and the cat were both on the derelict.\"\n\n\"So one lie means she deserves to be thrown overboard?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Of course not. But it does mean she might not have a boyfriend, or—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No. She's definitely in love,\" Parrish said.\n\nWhatever that means, thought Sophie. \"You can tell that just by looking at her?\"\n\n\"Is it her sincerity you doubt, or is it the idea of love itself that troubles you?\"\n\n\"Excuse me.\" Verena all but jumped to her feet, leaving her plate half-touched and all but slamming the galley hatch. Parrish looked after her, faintly surprised.\n\nSophie addressed herself to her breakfast. She was pretty sure she knew where the sudden sulk had come from: Verena's crush on Parrish was blindingly visible to everyone except, possibly, Parrish himself.\n\nEvery time the topic of romance comes up, we're gonna be walking on eggshells.\n\nAnd she felt a little breakable now, to be honest. She'd thought Parrish might be interested in her, this spring, and she'd thought about him more than she might have guessed during her six-month exile in San Francisco. Now, being here, with a teenage romance suffocating in the aft cabin under the weight of whatever crime Corsetta had committed, and Verena abovedecks, pining and jealous, she was remembering a dozen reasons why Parrish was a bad idea.\n\nShake it off, she told herself. What are you gonna do, bring him home to Mom and Dad?\n\nParrish ran a hand along his chin, looking thinky. \"You've learned to use a sextant.\"\n\n\"I was hoping to come back.\"\n\n\"To meet your family.\"\n\n\"And so I could... explore, you know.\" Could she explain, in any way he'd understand, how important a discovery the existence of Stormwrack might be?\n\nBefore she could frame the words, he asked, \"What about knot tying?\"\n\n\"Of course. You'll have to tell me what you call them—we have our own names for everything.\" Then, for no reason she could think of, she said, \"Verena said you got rid of the books.\"\n\n\"Convenor Gracechild's orders about leaving research material lying in your path were, unfortunately, detailed and explicit.\"\n\n\"What does she think I'm going to learn?\"\n\n\"Obviously, I can't say.\" He continued: \"Gale's will left the library to a school on Zingoasis. Most of her possessions went to starboard communities with little wealth.\"\n\nThe cook brought a selection of savory cakes to the table. They seemed to finish a lot of meals on board this way, with unsweetened scones that had a bit of chocolate and pepper, or orange, turmeric-scented breadsticks. She wondered if that was a Fleet convention or something to do with the cook's home culture.\n\nShe scooped one up, burned her fingertips—straight from the oven!—and dropped it again. Parrish's gaze was making her uncomfortable.\n\n\"You say you lost the medic?\"\n\n\"Richler returned to his home nation.\"\n\n\"And your bosun's gone?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Gale's death was a significant change. The crew is adjusting. I meant to ask if you'd continue to serve as our medical officer while you're aboard.\"\n\n\"If I'm the best choice, sure. But I'm no doctor.\"\n\n\"Understood. How's Bram?\"\n\nHa. Changing the subject. She sensed disquiet there, something unsaid. What had made the medic quit?\n\n\"Bram's good,\" she said. \"Busy. And then she thought: Parrish won't tell tales about Cly, and probably asking about Sylvanna would constitute espionage or something.\n\nBut before she could get in a question, Parrish said, \"Sophie, I've been wondering...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"The other night, on Erstwhile, you argued with your parents about... my Anglay has deficits, but it sounded like a combat class.\"\n\n\"Women's self-defense,\" she said, trying not to remember her parents' faces as she drove away. \"So?\"\n\n\"Are you learning to duel?\"\n\nShe burst out laughing. \"Can you see me trying to hold my own in a sword fight?\"\n\nThe relief on his face might have been insulting. Verena had fought a practice match with a duelist on Erinth, and the two of them had been like something out of a martial arts movie. Verena's opponent had been magical—what was the term? A transform—he'd been covered in flames and used them to fight.\n\nAnd Verena was on the amateur circuit. Sophie had seen Cly go through a magically altered opponent like a wood chipper through Styrofoam.\n\nShe fought an urge to squirm in her seat. How to explain? \"It's—\"\n\nShe'd been about to say, \"It's stupid,\" but she'd promised Bram she'd break that habit.\n\n\"I did a lot of studying,\" she said, beginning again. \"Celestial navigation, a bunch of math I was just okay on. The knots, and I've been swimming, running, biking...\"\n\n\"Excellent preparation.\"\n\n\"The self-defense class was... okay, not a whim, exactly. It was obvious, before, that things happen here. Violence.\"\n\n\"Gale's murder,\" he said. \"John Coine's attacks on Bram and yourself.\"\n\n\"I don't have the slightest illusion that I could ever be a fighter.\"\n\n\"Don't underrate yourself,\" he said. \"You're athletic and have excellent reflexes. I wouldn't have said 'never'—\"\n\n\"Okay. But how much time would I have to spend practicing, just to be as good a fighter as, say, Verena?\"\n\n\"Hours. Every day, hours.\"\n\n\"For years. That's not a good use of my time. I'm a photographer and a biologist.\"\n\n\"Then why take a combat course at all?\"\n\n\"All the things I like to do—climbing, diving, hiking,\" she said, \"your life depends on the people you're with. You trust yourself to ropes someone else fixed to a rock wall. If your oxygen mix goes off and your dive partner doesn't notice, you're toast. Cooperation equals survival, you know?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"A duty to your crew, we say.\"\n\n\"If all of us are going to end up in the occasional... brawl? Dustup?\"\n\n\"Brawl.\" It was an English word.... He repeated it, apparently just to savor the sound.\n\n\"I don't want to fold like a sack of laundry whenever you and Verena find yourselves in trouble. I don't want to be a liability. So I was... I dunno, trying to get comfortable with hitting people.\" She remembered punching practice in the community center. Commit, commit, commit.\n\nIt was so removed from the reality of fighting, in this world, that she half-expected him to laugh. Instead, he broke out one of those dazzling, movie-star smiles.\n\n\"You've given a good deal of thought to what might be required, were you to stay here.\"\n\nShe opened her mouth to answer and felt anew the surge of guilt over her mom and dad, and that competing sense of weirdness. As Bram had put it: What the hell, Sofe, are you really gonna move to a backwater Narnia without CAT scans or DNA sequencing or the Internet?\n\n\"Stormwrack's not as violent as all that, if it helps,\" Parrish said. \"Fleet society has become very civilized since the Cessation.\"\n\nHe meant the international peace that had prevailed since the defeat of a fleet of pirates, 109 years before. \"Is that so?\"\n\n\"It's merely that you've fallen in with something of a specialized community.\"\n\n\"Spies and dueling judges.\"\n\n\"Speaking of your father,\" he said. \"You won't have anything to fear aboard Sawtooth.\"\n\nSomehow that rankled. \"I said I was preparing, not that I was afraid.\"\n\nBut some little noise abovedecks had captured his attention—he gave her one of his obnoxious, polite, not-really-engaged-anymore bows and excused himself.\n\nShe listened for a second, heard him mounting the ladder to the main deck, giving orders, nothing unusual. Then curiosity overcame her: she followed. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"A ship,\" he said, pointing.\n\n\"Are we being shadowed?\"\n\n\"No, it's headed away from us,\" he said, handing her the spyglass.\n\nThe craft was at the farthest edge of the spyglass's field of vision. It was double-masted, with a strangely spherical wheel, and smaller than the derelict they'd encountered. It was also making in the opposite direction as fast as it could.\n\n\"No name on the stern,\" Sophie said, wishing for her camera. \"They're running without lamps, even though it's not fully dawn.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"They don't want to be seen.\"\n\n\"Maybe they're being hunted or are bound on some kind of mischief.\"\n\n\"Could they be Corsetta's attackers?\"\n\n\"No. She said they'd headed to the Fleet days ago.\"\n\n\"Pirates? I thought they'd all gone legit.\"\n\n\"There are still raiders. Desperate people of various stripes,\" Parrish said.\n\n\"Exiles, outlanders, fugitives,\" Verena added.\n\n\"They could be the ones who sunk the derelict?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Parrish said.\n\n\"But we're not chasing them?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Verena, \"We'll note the sighting in the logs—position, direction, what have you. If someone's after them, we'll report it.\"\n\nAs the sun continued to rise, the morning stretched pleasantly: the wind was brisk, and though they were out in the open ocean there was plenty to observe aboard ship. Sophie began studying each of the ship's two dozen crew members, taking note of everything from scars and jewelry to turns of speech and general mood. She hunted down the ferret, which was also a transform: its tail was a live snake. It seemed to like her: she fed it bits of fish and worked to transcribe the magical blue text lettered onto its abdomen.\n\nCorsetta was unconscious for most of the day. She appeared to be weakening; her pulse was light and irregular, her breath unsteady. No seizures yet, but her eyes were getting wandery in a way Sophie didn't like at all.\n\nShe and Sweet managed to get a little more broth into the girl during one of her more wakeful stretches. Afterward, she slept, and Sophie took advantage of the break to go below and see if her diving suit was still in the hold.\n\nThe trunk looked just as she'd left it six months before, and inside, her wetsuit and dry suit were in perfect shape. Her mask was dusty but the seals were fine.\n\nAll good, of course. As was the nylon rope and her half-dozen carabiners.\n\nWhen she had come before, the trunk had been packed with electronics: DSLR camera, video camera, waterproof housings, and a smartphone, not to mention half a dozen scientific instruments of Bram's.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now all of that was gone except for the solar battery chargers.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 62 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt a pang of melancholy she couldn't quite account for. Neither here nor there, she thought. I don't belong here, but I can't just live in the real world now.\n\nThis was frustration at being unable to explore, she told herself. Explore, study, and record. She wouldn't be spending all this energy navel-gazing if she could just answer a few questions instead of digging up more.\n\nShe opened the trunk next to hers. It was full of stuff that had to belong to Verena—clothes, fencing equipment, and an MP3 player.\n\n\"Double standards,\" she muttered.\n\nThe next trunk, an old wooden box, held human bones—a single skeleton, from the pieces.\n\nShe looked this over for a minute, trying to figure out why it was aboard. The bones had a few healed breaks: one wrist, one rib. Under the skull she found a ribbon-bound roll of filled-out donation forms, indicating the remains were the bones of a magically enhanced pipe player and had been bequeathed to a music school on the island Zingoasis.\n\nMusic? She tapped two of the bones together experimentally, eliciting two notes, both something like what you might get with a tuning fork.\n\nThe bioluminescent wakelights heralding their approach to the Fleet got smaller as they closed the distance between them. They grew with time, like bubbles, until they either burst or sank, so the farther away they were from having been set asea, the bigger they got.\n\nBy afternoon there were also miniature ships, maybe five feet in length and made of wood so soft that one of them splintered when it hit the Nightjar's prow. The models were laden with things that symbolized summer: unripened sheaves of wheat, emptied butterfly chrysalises, and hundreds of flowers.\n\nNext they found themselves coming upon fishing boats, first a few, then twenty, then a hundred, all abustle with activity, men and women hauling tons of protein from the water. As afternoon gave way to evening, they found themselves sailing through cold water thick with cod. Tonio and two of the other crewmen lowered a net, just for a minute, and pulled up perhaps twenty fish, great shining animals, unblemished and thrashing vigorously as they filled the air with the smell of the sea.\n\nThey sorted through them quickly, tossing back anything that weighed less than twenty pounds, and then ran them below to the galley, presumably so the cook could salt them. Sophie claimed the net when they were done, scavenging samples of seaweed, a sea jelly, two eels, and a small ray while Verena alternately fumed and pretended not to see her.\n\n\"Fleet of Nations, dead ahead!\"\n\nThe winking of hundreds of aft lanterns came into view, clarifying as the sun set.\n\nA hang glider shot overhead and a lanky teenager dropped to the ship's main deck. \"Compliments to the captain and crew!\" the daredevil said, bowing. \"I bear an invitation for Sophie Hansa and Verena Vanko Feliachild of the Verdanii.\"\n\nHe held out a sealed envelope to Sophie.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\nShe tore it open. \"It's... dinner.\"\n\n\"Dinner with Annela Gracechild and Cly Banning,\" Verena said, reading over her shoulder. \"That'll be fun.\"\n\n\"Like a root canal. Why not Beatrice, too?\"\n\n\"She's under house arrest on Breadbasket.\"\n\n\"Oh, right. Why not go to Breadbasket?\"\n\n\"His Honor wouldn't feel welcome there,\" Parrish said. \"And you agreed to keep your distance from the Verdanii.\"\n\nThis was a polite way of reminding Sophie that she'd repudiated Verdanii citizenship, to the point of signing a crazily long agreement promising she wouldn't set foot on their soil or any ships of theirs unless she was specifically invited.\n\nSudden curiosity itched her: Wasn't that overkill?\n\n\"There's also...\" Verena seemed to be debating. \"We haven't told Mom that we're doing this.\"\n\n\"Beatrice doesn't know I'm back?\"\n\nVerena shook her head.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"She can't veto the plan if she doesn't know about it.\" She flushed, seeming to dare Sophie to lecture her.\n\n\"Well, we can bring guests,\" Sophie said. \"Want to come, Parrish?\"\n\nVerena stiffened.\n\nParrish scratched his head, considering.\n\n\"Don't jump to say yes,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Your father dislikes me.\"\n\nShe felt an odd rush of relief. \"Right. It's not fair to ask.\"\n\n\"I'd be glad to attend you,\" he said. \"I'm just not sure my presence will aid with the task at hand.\"\n\n\"It's not a task,\" she said. \"It's getting to know all you guys who are my birth family.\"\n\nHe gave her that odd, balked look. \"Technically, I'm not—\"\n\n\"Shut up, Parrish. Of course you're part of the family,\" Verena said. \"Sophie's right: you have to come. If Annela and Cly start in on each other, we may need a referee.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Provide 144 sentences as a continuation in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre, maintaining established character relationships.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They sailed into the Fleet from the rear, first passing a three-masted schooner bristling with youngish sailors, all clad in the ochre breeches and sand-colored shirts that were the navy's day uniform. The ship was laden with equipment, armed not for war but disaster: it had extra lifeboats and a range of floats, pumps for water cannons to fight fire, ladders, and a big tower with a spotlight.\n\n\"Rescue vessel?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Shepherd,\" Verena said. They had climbed up into the rigging for a better view. \"The unofficial entry point to the city.\"\n\nTonio and the sailor on watch aboard Shepherd exchanged a complicated series of halloos as they sailed past. Fifteen minutes later, the reason for all the rescue equipment became obvious, as they encountered the ships at the rear of the Fleet. Some were barely more than leaky rowboats, hardly fit for scrap, let alone oceanic crossings.\n\nBumboats, Sophie remembered. Tonio called them bumboats.\n\nThe little eight- and ten-footers were crewed by thin, perpetually sunbaked people, many of whom raised wares in Nightjar's direction as they passed.\n\n\"Buy a cooking pot, Kir, finest metalwork from the Isle of—\"\n\n\"Mussels and clams, mussels and clams from the Tallon territorial limit.\"\n\n\"Ram husks for mining magic!\"\n\n\"Tunics and pantaloons, dyed on Gittamot!\"\n\n\"Fortune-teller! Know your futures, Kirs!\"\n\n\"Ready girls, ready boys, take your ease, ready to please—\"\n\n\"Smokes and powders!\" The reek of marijuana coming off that vessel made further explanation of that one unnecessary.\n\nAs Nightjar glided through the vast oceangoing slum, the boats became steadily bigger and, by their look, more seaworthy. People stopped hawking their wares by shouting, relying instead on placards hung port and starboard, signs with business names and pictures of whatever they had on offer. Individual shops first, but then the ships got big enough to house what were effectively apartment blocks and strip malls. In time they were passing ships as densely active as an urban street at home.\n\n\"Gatehouse ahead!\" Tonio shouted.\n\n\"Match course and speed,\" Parrish ordered. \"Ready to accept pilot.\"\n\n\"This would be where the suburbs become the city,\" Verena said. \"If someone says between Gatehouse and Shepherd, they mean...\" She gestured to their rear.\n\nSophie nodded, keeping her mouth shut. She didn't want Verena to remember she wasn't supposed to be playing tour guide.\n\nThey were coming abreast with another craft as obviously official as Shepherd, filled, as Shepherd was, with uniformed sailors. This ship was armed: a half-dozen sailors on her quarterdeck were built like Nightjar's cannoneer. They stood at the ready, near barrels that, presumably, held the same sand Krezzo had used to form his magical cannonballs.\n\n\"Run out the plank!\" someone called.\n\nA rotund fellow trotted toward the rail of Gatehouse, looking for all the world as though he was going to run off the edge of the deck. His beard hung in a thick blue-black braid to his navel; his arm was tucked over his chest to keep it from flying off every which way.\n\nAs he approached the Gatehouse rail he seemed to rise, as if he'd been on a ramp, and then he sprang up, bouncing on what turned out to be a small, square trampoline.\n\nThere was a loud buh-buh-buh twang!\n\nWhisks of silver light enveloped him as he shot up, straight into the air. The man curled, rolling in midflight; then he landed with a sprightly bounce on Nightjar's deck and presented himself to Parrish before taking the helm.\n\nIt was evening, and by now the Fleet was little more than a collection of lanterns on rails and sails, stretching in every direction. Overhead, the stars were coming out, barely dimmed by the thousands of candleflames. The breeze coming off Northwater was chilly and invigorating.\n\n\"Kir Sophie!\" That was Sweet, belowdecks, her shout muffled by the length of the ship and the heavy wood floor. \"Help!\"\n\nAnd a shriek: Corsetta.\n\nShe and Verena clambered down, racing to the improvised brig.\n\nThe girl had held her own during the day—she'd slept a lot, managing to keep down the broth and some gruel. The burns on her arms had—perhaps thanks to the amoxycillin—seemed to be free of infection. But she'd been feverish and nigh delirious, and the head wound—\n\nAs Sophie crossed the threshold into her cabin, she saw Corsetta's skin flowing, as if it were melted wax.\n\nThe girl wailed as the crisped parts of her hands and fingers liquefied into red and brown smears. The color diffused into the general flow of her skin, melding into her tan in a way that reminded Sophie of painters mixing pigments.\n\n\"Magic?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Verena grasped the girl by the shoulders. \"Corsetta, listen to me. Someone's laid an intention on you.\"\n\n\"Impossible,\" she gasped. \"It—\"\n\n\"Does it hurt?\" Sophie said. \"I might have something—\"\n\n\"Tickles, just tickles.\" She said it through clenched teeth. \"But, no. Nobody knows my full name—ahhhhh!\"\n\n\"What about your parents?\"\n\n\"Dead.\"\n\nOrphaned at fifteen. Poor kid. \"Okay, your boyfriend?\"\n\nHer eyes snapped open. \"Rashad would never tell—\"\n\n\"So he does know your name?\" Sophie demanded.\n\nTwisting, Corsetta groaned in a way that suggested pleasure, not pain. Sophie felt a stab of embarrassment as the girl curled in on herself.\n\nEven so, Sophie was braced for the worst. She had seen men scripped to death, murdered by a spell that killed them from afar.\n\nCorsetta took in a long, shuddering breath as her waxy skin flexed once and then seemed to snap into place, tanned, healthy, leaving her without so much as a pimple. She sat upright, catching at the sheets just in time to preserve her modesty, and felt for the injury on the back of her head.\n\nUp on deck, Sophie heard the fa-twang of the trampoline again, the thump of someone landing above.\n\n\"I've been healed!\" Corsetta said. \"You're right, Kirs. My beloved must have...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\nShe shrugged, not quite pulling off the attempt to seem casual. \"Someone must have told him I was in danger.\"\n\nStill hiding something. Whether Corsetta was an orphan or not, Sophie's sympathy evaporated.\n\n\"I will see Rashad again.\" Corsetta's tone was thoughtful, almost surprised.\n\n\"That's great,\" Verena said. Her enthusiasm seemed forced. \"We'll find something for you to wear, okay?\"\n\n\"To love!\" She grabbed up the glass of water on the bedside table, toasting.\n\n\"Cheers. Come on, Sophie.\" Verena tugged her out. \"Did that seem fishy to you?\"\n\nSophie nodded. \"But she's gonna live—that's good. She even gets to keep her burned hands.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You don't think it was the boyfriend who had her cured?\"\n\n\"If he's Corsetta's age, he might be reckless. Or... I suppose his family could have beaten her name out of him.\"\n\n\"Why would they restore Corsetta if it's his brother who tossed her overboard?\"\n\nVerena shrugged.\n\n\"I totally think she's up to something. But she's not going to drop dead. That's a win, right?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" There was a visible change as Verena let that sink in. Her shoulders came down and she smiled.\n\n\"If the girl is healthy, I'm afraid she's under arrest.\"\n\nSophie whirled, surprised.\n\nHer birth father, Clydon Banning, was standing next to Parrish.\n\n\"Child—\" he began, and then he caught himself. She'd asked him, more than once, not to call her that. \"Forgive me. Dear one. May I?\"\n\nHe opened his arms—Cly was a serious hugger—and Sophie went willingly enough.\n\nHer birth father was a tall whip of a man, keen-eyed and lean, with an air that was both wolfish and genial. He embraced her heartily, planting a kiss on what was threatening to become his usual spot atop her head, and bowed to Verena. \"Kir Feliachild,\" he said. \"Fair seas to you. How are you keeping?\"\n\nSomething in his tone, too much innocence, hinted that he knew the answer.\n\nVerena flinched, just a little. \"Just fine. Thanks. Did you say Corsetta's to be arrested?\"\n\nHe flicked a hand. \"The Watch detained the crew of Waveplay, as Sophie requested. They claim your rescuee attacked their paymaster and tried to make off with their cash box. They don't know how she ended up adrift.\"\n\n\"Do you believe them?\" Sophie said.\n\nCly looked surprised. \"Does it matter? Once they're all detained, the Watch will learn the truth. If she's no longer dying, there's no great import.\"\n\n\"It's attempted murder.\"\n\n\"And thus a problem for the courts,\" Cly said. \"They can always duel it out if they're in a hurry.\"\n\n\"You don't care, in other words.\"\n\n\"Officially, I cannot. Well, Sophie, have you decided to see Sylvanna with me?\"\n\nShe was, irrationally, irked. \"I dunno. Have you decided to stop jerking Beatrice around?\"\n\nAwkward silence spilled from this. Cly's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.\n\n\"Oh, what?\" Sophie said. \"We were going to sit around a banquet table with Annela, eating mutton and crumpets, with all of you actively hating each other and nobody wanting to talk their way around to business? I'm not doing that.\"\n\nCly laughed. \"Put that way, I have to say it does sound like a terrible way to spend an evening.\"\n\nParrish said, delicately, \"I'm sure you both underestimate your charms.\"\n\n\"Yeah, right. Cly, if it happened to be the case that Beatrice could get sprung from house arrest—ship arrest?—could she be released on bail? Do you have bail?\"\n\n\"We do,\" he said. \"You understand, of course, that I have no role in Beatrice's case beyond that of plaintiff. My position in the Judiciary—\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, you're unconnected to her getting confined. But if she was, miraculously, to get bail, what would you want for that?\"\n\n\"Come to Sylvanna,\" he said promptly. \"See my estate, meet my neighbors, attend the Highsummer festival, and consider a possible role within the Banning family.\"\n\n\"Okay. So—you let Beatrice go, then I come on a visit—\"\n\n\"You visit me while the Judiciary reviews Beatrice's status.\"\n\nBefore she could reply, Sweet and the cook appeared abovedeck.\n\n\"She's gone, Kirs,\" Sweet said.\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"Corsetta's cabin is empty.\"\n\nCly frowned. \"Did you not have her under guard?\"\n\nParrish said, \"The cabin was locked. Sweet, have the ship searched.\"\n\n\"She's a kid,\" Sophie said. \"She's harmless.\"\n\n\"Let's hope you're right.\" Cly returned his attention to Sophie. \"Well? Do we have an agreement?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She bit her lip. \"It's not horrifying there, is it? Women can vote and own stuff? I could invite Bram someday and he wouldn't get harassed for being... how did you guys put it?\"\n\n\"Inclined to men,\" Tonio said in a pointed tone—he was gay, too. \"And Sylvanna—\"\n\n\"That's enough, Tonio!\" Verena barked.\n\n\"Inclined.\" Sophie studied her birth father's face as she said it, but there was no sign that Bram's being gay was news to him, let alone that it perturbed him at all.\n\n\"Invite Bramwell along, if you wish. There will be no difficulty for him, I promise. Every adult on Sylvanna has a right to physical security, to earn a living, and to self-determination. The latter clause of our constitution covers romantic inclinations.\"\n\nA rush of relief. \"Then what are you guys all so wrenched about?\"\n\n\"You'll need someone to draft an agreement.\" Verena's voice was tight.\n\n\"Will we?\"\n\n\"You will,\" Verena said. To Cly, she added, \"Everything aboveboard and on the record, Your Honor.\"\n\nHe gave her the sort of look he might offer a beagle if it had peed on his shoe. \"Of course. And now, since dear Sophie has so bluntly noted that you and I and your cousin Gracechild would make a thoroughly dreary dinner party, I think I'll excuse myself and leave you all to catch up. Don't worry, I'll send my apologies to our hostess. I believe she's fond of apricots?\"\n\n\"Uh...\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Hush.\" He waved airily. \"We'll have time, you and I. You deserve an unspoiled evening with your Verdanii relations.\"\n\nIs that what I deserve?\n\n\"I'll draw up the document Kir Feliachild proposes so your lawyer can examine it.\" With an extravagant bow, he sprang to the rail of Nightjar, whistling for a ferry. He was gone a moment later.\n\n\"Jeez,\" Verena said. \"What are we going to do with ourselves now that you saved us from a night of Annela looking daggers at His Honor?\"\n\nSophie grinned. \"I'd say I've earned a favor.\"\n\n\"You would, would you?\"\n\n\"Before dinner, we have some time to kill?\"\n\nVerena nodded.\n\n\"There must be a market or two in a city this size. Maybe even a mall?\"\n\n\"You want to go shopping?\"\n\n\"I so do,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"You're going to collect more info about the Fleet.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do, Verena, lock me in my cabin? Come on, you tried. Tonight at dinner, I'll tell Annela you tried. You must be exhausted with how hard you've tried. Unless you lock me up or knock me out, I am gonna see things.\"\n\nHer sister gnawed her lip.\n\n\"Besides, if you don't come, I'm still going to go, and who knows what I'll find out then?\"\n\nThat got her a laugh. \"Okay, you win.\"\n\nThey ferried out beyond Gatehouse—into the suburbs, Sophie reminded herself—and into what looked, from the state of the ships, to be a wealthy section of the civilian Fleet. Verena directed their pilot to a gleaming white swan of a ship whose main deck was alive with the sights and smells of a fish and produce market. Men and women running the carts were dickering with white-dressed chef's assistants who wouldn't have looked out of place at home. Negotiating, clasping hands upon agreement, they'd hand over baskets of shellfish, cod, butterfish, sardines, and tuna. The fish were huge, fresh-looking, and healthy.\n\n\"Does anyone make sashimi or sushi here?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Verena said. \"It's not served with wasabi. Otherwise, same basic idea. You don't want the food market, do you? What are we doing?\"\n\n\"First, a jeweler.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Verena led her belowdecks into what could very well have been a cruise ship mall, illuminated by lanternlight but otherwise about what you'd expect—a long corridor with a central promenade lined with shops.\n\nThe jeweler seemed more than happy to buy the gold and copper chains that Sophie had been wearing around her neck for months, offering her a scattering of heavy coins, each minted with the image of a ship on one side and a flag on the other.\n\n\"Your name, Kir?\" he said, eyeing her blue jeans with an air of caution.\n\n\"Sophie Hansa.\"\n\n\"Of?\"\n\n\"Of what?\"\n\nHe yanked back his hands, as if the chains or she were toxic. \"I don't trade with outlanders.\"\n\nSophie's face warmed. She glanced around, half-expecting that everyone in the market would be staring at her weird clothes, maybe even pointing and whispering. But no—almost everyone within earshot was conducting business normally, and the one woman who'd turned to see what was going on turned away hastily, probably fearing she'd be caught giving in to the cardinal-sin impulse of curiosity.\n\n\"I'll stand for her. Verena Feliachild, Verdanii.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" He dipped his head to Sophie in a way that seemed to mean \"no offense\" and handed the coins over.\n\nMaybe it'll be Sophie of Sylvanna soon, she thought. The thought came with a thrum of guilt, a sense that she was doing wrong by her parents, back in San Francisco.\n\n\"What about these?\" Sophie dug out an old wallet filled with little gems: a couple of diamonds, some semiprecious stones—turquoise, amethyst—and about six opals.\n\nThe jeweler raked through them with a look of studied indifference on his face.\n\n\"What's the point of this?\" Verena said.\n\n\"Getting a bit of money of my own,\" she said.\n\n\"Opals?\"\n\n\"Gifts from over the years. Because of my middle name. They aren't heirlooms, Verena.\"\n\n\"Two of these might be all right for magic,\" the jeweler interrupted. \"The rest, just for trinkets.\"\n\n\"Nonsense,\" Verena replied. \"They're nice and symmetrical. They're great for spells.\"\n\nSophie entrusted the haggling to her sister, drifting on to the next vendor with her handful of coins. She paused at a blown-glass goldfish bowl. Three bright yellow creatures swam within; they were only the length of her finger but had the shape and gaping lionlike mouths of the silk dragons she'd seen at Lunar New Year's celebrations in Chinatown. As she slowed, they broke the surface, letting water stream from their tiny jaws, and began to let out a whistle, the three of them pitching their notes so they formed a chord.\n\nShe found herself smiling. She extended her hand toward the bowl—\n\nThe vendor caught her just as one of the fish made a sharp-toothed snap for her fingertips.\n\n\"Bevvies, Kir? Brighten your day, bring good fortune.\"\n\nShe shook her head—both to say no and to shake off the odd, soporific effect of their song. It would be amazing to have live specimens of pretty much any species, but she needed somewhere to keep them first. She crossed to what looked like a bookstore, searching through the collection of bound diaries and ribbon-bound bundles of writing paper.\n\n\"No books—these are blank?\" she asked.\n\n\"Our bookseller's ma took sick,\" the vendor replied. \"Went back to her homeland.\"\n\nHad Verena deliberately chosen a market without a bookstall?\n\n\"May I ask you something?\"\n\nHis face took on a suspicious cast. That wariness, again, of curiosity. Was it simply cultural conditioning, or was magic at work here, somehow? Courtesy or the customer service impulse won out. \"Of course, Kir.\"\n\n\"I got a letter recently that came with a sheet of paper that—well, I wrote on it, and someone from another ship wrote back.\"\n\n\"Messageply.\" He nodded.\n\n\"How does that work? I want some for my brother.\"\n\n\"The pages must be prepared by a specially scribed paperworker and be of a sheet.\" He pointed out a locked case with a giant, two-ply roll of what looked like toilet paper. \"The sheets are then picked apart and held by the separate parties. They are two halves of the same thing, you see.\"\n\n\"Sounds like quantum entanglement.\"\n\n\"I don't know this term 'quantum,' Kir.\"\n\nBram would be fascinated. \"To use something like that to contact my brother, I'd have to send him the other half of a page already in my possession?\"\n\n\"There are other ways to message. Cheapest is to scribe a pair of chitterbugs hatched of one casing. You teach them a tapping code, tell one, the other picks up the rhythm.\"\n\n\"Tapping code—like Morse?\" She ran out a series of dots and dashes.\n\nHe nodded. \"Wealthy folk prefer birds who'll talk.\"\n\nVerena and Annela would definitely notice if she took up bird ownership.\n\nVerena had concluded the swap for the opals; Sophie selected a couple journals, a pen, and a packaged collection of items, labeled in a language she didn't speak, that caught her eye because it seemed to contain the skin of a passenger pigeon. \"How much for these?\"\n\n\"Five, Kir.\"\n\nShe handed over a coin as if she knew what it was worth and waited. After a beat, he gave her a bunch of smaller coins.\n\nVerena handed her an inconveniently heavy bag full of money.\n\n\"How much does this come to?\"\n\n\"Think of it as about four hundred bucks, assuming you can learn to haggle.\"\n\n\"I'll give it a try.\"\n\n\"Where to now?\"\n\n\"Tons to observe in a market, am I right?\"\n\n\"You're not supposed to be observing at all,\" Verena said.\n\n\"What are you going to do, put my eyes out?\"\n\nVerena's objection, she thought, seemed halfhearted. Had she surrendered to the idea of the shopping trip a bit easily? That would suggest she was hiding something specific.\n\nShe started down the mall as she mulled that over, passing a cobbler and dressmaker, then heading down a level and finding herself in front of a sign that read, POWDERER.\"\n\n\"Powders?\"\n\n\"My lips are sealed.\"\n\n\"For spells,\" Sophie said. \"I bet this is inscription ingredients.\"\n\nThe powderer's shop was filled with clay jars, all corded and sealed with wax, and each with a tidy label written in Fleetspeak: talc, mixed coral, red coral, black coral, obsidian, whalebone, specter, antelope, basker (whatever that was) human skull, human tooth, human ash male, human ash female, quartz, red granite, black granite, agate.\n\nThere were packages here, too, like the one she'd just bought with the bird corpse. \"Is this—?\"\n\n\"Not answering,\" Verena said.\n\nNext to the powderer's was a place that sold scales and hair, then a sanguarium.\n\n\"Sanguarium,\" she repeated. \"Blood vendor.\"\n\nA whole shop full of labeled blood samples. All she needed was permission to do research and someone to run DNA.\n\n\"Fine, yes,\" Verena said. \"Blood sellers. Sophie, what are you up to?\"\n\n\"Look, I'd have to be dead to not notice things about Stormwrack, am I right?\"\n\n\"Yes, but—\"\n\n\"Telling me not to do science is just dumb. Not taking any hard information home until Annela gives permission, I understand that. Not sharing what I see with anyone but Bram—I can toe the line. I hate not having a camera, but I'll survive. But I'm still a tourist here.\"\n\n\"It's just shopping,\" Verena said, but Sophie's attention had been caught by a poster, printed on a recycled scrap of sail.\n\nIt was a crude image of a small sloop with an odd, almost dome-shaped wheel and two masts.\n\n\"That looks like the ship we sighted.\"\n\n\"I asked the jeweler about it,\" Verena said. \"He says it was stolen from the dockyards at Tug Island.\"\n\n\"Tonio thought the derelict came from Tug, too.\"\n\n\"There've been a few disappearances. They figure whoever made off with the sloop is sinking ships.\"\n\n\"We reported seeing it, right?\"\n\n\"Parrish will,\" Verena said.\n\nA bloodcurdling shriek, from what looked to be a feather store, interrupted them.\n\nThe creature in the front display cage was large, on the scale of an albatross—an enormous seagull with a wingspan, she estimated, of over nine feet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was white but for a band of black over its eyes and mottled patches of brown behind its shoulders.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 53 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Its feet were typical gull feet: pink, webbed, stunningly huge.\n\n\"This is Corsetta's snow vulture,\" Verena said.\n\n\"How do you know it's hers?\"\n\n\"They're rare. There won't be two.\"\n\nThe vendor had a harassed look. \"She's missing the girl who charmed her,\" he snapped at a would-be customer. \"Won't lay.\"\n\n\"It's the eggs that are important in the inscription?\" Sophie asked.\n\nVerena nodded. \"It's said that only half of their young survive in the wild. Supposedly there are gifted... I dunno, call them bird whisperers, who can convince them to give up some eggs in exchange for having the rest hatched in a nice warm coop with lots of food.\"\n\n\"Cooperative relationship, with the perk of a higher survival rate,\" Sophie said. \"What do the eggs do?\"\n\n\"Snow vulture eggs enable a human to fly,\" Verena said. \"Not gliding, like the taxikites. They're actually winged, like angels.\"\n\n\"That I have to see.\"\n\n\"Good luck if the bird's not laying.\"\n\n\"If it's pals with Corsetta, she might turn up here.\"\n\nVerena circled in place, scrutinizing the vendors, the stalls, the customers. \"Yeah. They're watching for her.\"\n\nSophie wondered if that was a good thing.\n\n\"Dammit, you've got me telling you things again,\" Verena said.\n\n\"So? Your official job is to go back and forth and carry stuff to Erstwhile. If there are people who move between worlds, why can't I be one of them?\"\n\n\"You want a visa now?\" Verena said. \"It's not me you have to convince.\"\n\n\"Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I go hitching my star to Cly's family wagon, I'm going to have all kinds of chances to apply for travel visas.\"\n\n\"You want to stay on Annela's good side, threatening to play the Judiciary off the Watch is not the way to go.\"\n\n\"I'm not trying to pick fights with anyone, Verena. I just want a chance to see—\"\n\n\"See, explore, study, record—\"\n\n\"—understand!\"\n\n\"And then what? Publish? And what about your parents? Are you really going to spend your life here chasing every shiny science thing you see without ever telling them?\"\n\nSophie groaned. \"I don't know.\"\n\nThey paused in front of a small array of lumpy nuggets and toys for pets—Verena bought some treats for Nightjar's ferret, along with a small sealed pot full of crickets for its snake-head tail—and lingered over a stall of felt and fabric hats, many of them inscribed, either on brim or band, with neatly stitched or painted lettering in the magical alphabet, spellscrip.\n\nMagic on Stormwrack was all written—you took eye of newt or other ingredients, along with someone's full name, and wrote up what the locals called an intention. It could do anything from straightening your teeth to killing you on the spot. Most people kept their middle names hidden from all but a few trusted family members or friends.\n\nSophie hadn't known this when she came to Stormwrack six months ago, and by the time she figured it out, the pirates had gotten hold of her name.\n\nThe sisters continued past the mages and down to a deck market that was all weapons—swords and knives, maces, cudgels and whips and bows.\n\n\"See anything you like?\" Verena meant the swords, but Sophie's eye had wandered further, to a stall filled with stonewood daggers. She saw a familiar blond head within the crowd.\n\nWhat are the chances? she thought. A stir of feelings, some good, some anxious, assailed her. Did she want to see him? Was it a good idea?\n\n\"Sophie?\"\n\nShe turned, trying to urge Verena back to the stairway. \"I'm not going to learn to use a sword, Verena. I'd be a hazard.\"\n\n\"Fights happen.\"\n\n\"Maybe I'll get one of those telescoping cop batons,\" she said. She didn't mention the little canister of bear spray on her key ring. Verena had missed it in her search.\n\n\"That would be smarter.\"\n\nSophie had circled so her back was to the blond head, but her jeans had, once again, given her away.\n\n\"Sophie Hansa!\"\n\nIt was Lais Dariach.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue with the same vibes as A. M. Dellamonica. Story might have ongoing characters/plots - work with what's given", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lais was a horse breeder from an island nation called Tiladene, a place where families were run as communes that owned businesses and where the sexual morals were profoundly relaxed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "<<EMBED THIS>>: \"She's good with a sword.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On her first visit to Stormwrack, Sophie stumbled onto a conspiracy to invade the country and murder Lais: a neighboring nation, Ualtar, had taken offense at his trying to breed a spider exclusive to their microclimate.\n\nDoes everyone hate science here? she thought, as he strode across the market, giving them both a deep bow. He let his eyes roam up Verena's stiff, upright, seventeen-year-old form.\n\n\"You remember my little sister,\" Sophie informed him, more frostily than was probably necessary. \"She's good with a sword.\"\n\n\"I'd better mind my weaponry then,\" he said, kissing Verena's hand and then sweeping Sophie into an exuberant crush. \"How fares the heroine of all Tiladene?\"\n\nLais looked like he'd been primped to model for the cover of a romance novel: he had the Hercules hair, the whole-body tan and baby blue eyes, the tight breeches and the flowing white peasant shirt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A leather vest overtop did nothing to hide chest muscles worthy of a bodybuilding competition.\n\nHe was smart and easy-going. There was nothing dark underneath his charm, just friendliness. Lots of friendliness.\n\n\"I'm hip-deep in family conspiracies and international politics,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Same thing, in your case.\"\n\nInspiration struck. \"And apparently I'm in need of a lawyer. Can you hook me up?\"\n\n\"Annela—\" Verena said.\n\n\"Annela will pick someone who's all about the government's best interests,\" Sophie said. \"I need someone who's in it for me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lais beamed. \"Mine's a horse swapper, devious beyond measure. Of Tiladene and feared round the Fleet. I would love to introduce you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Great. How do we go about—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You should come to dinner tonight, Lais,\" Verena blurted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Should he?\"\n\n\"Sure. He knows the score, right? You spilled the truth about Erstwhile to him.\"\n\n\"Well, yeah. But we already invited Parrish.\"\n\n\"You invited Parrish. I get a guest, too.\"\n\nLais beamed. \"I'd be honored. Verdanii hospitality is legendary. Sophie, I'll see if I can get you an appointment with Bimisi. Who are your kin, little sword sister?\"\n\n\"It's Verena.\" She dug out her invitation. \"Of the Feliachilds.\"\n\n\"Until later, then,\" he said, saluting with it before vanishing into the crowd.\n\nDismayed, Sophie watched him go. \"Why did you do that?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do what? I thought you liked him.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A hint of smugness there.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do better with shipboard flings when they're... you know, now you see him, now you don't? Ever again?\" Sophie wasn't sure why she was so flustered. She'd blown him off, last time she'd seen him. Though not fast enough: Parrish had caught them in each other's arms.\n\nVerena shrugged. \"Annela is extra-charming when there's a pretty new man around. It'll make dinner way more fun. Anyway, you were happy enough to be nice to him when you wanted a legal referral.\"\n\nThis was starting to have a vibe that reminded Sophie of her rare fights with Bram.\n\n\"Right, okay, you're right,\" she said, just to head off any possible argument, and without looking took another ladder down, further into the shipboard mall, looking for another shiny science thing, as Verena would put it, to distract herself.\n\nBy the time they'd finished their big shop and made their way to Constitution for the dinner date with Annela Gracechild, Sophie was beginning to feel that Parrish might have been right about the Fleet being a reasonably safe city. They'd spent the afternoon in what was, essentially, a shopping center.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Precise word count needed: 'anyone' × 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nobody had tried to kill her or anyone else. As for the whole \"running into a guy you slept with\" thing, it wasn't as though that had never happened to her before.\n\nThree cheers for less violence.\n\nThe self-defense course had, initially, been Bram's idea. He'd pitched it as part of her overall plan to prepare for a return to Stormwrack. \"You're learning celestial navigation and working all these quick dives to make money so you can buy trade goods and animal specimens. You're in triathlon training and you went to that meditation seminar so you could omm your way through the scary stuff.\"\n\n\"Don't make fun,\" she'd said. Even if she'd wanted to seek conventional therapy after witnessing a murder and a handful of attempted killings, it was a moot point: she couldn't tell anyone in San Francisco what she'd experienced.\n\n\"I'm just saying—wouldn't it help if you learned to throw a proper punch?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd assumed that deep down, the advice had its roots in Bram's persistent idea that Sophie was some kind of good-hearted pushover—that she ignored every slight, said yes to every favor, and let people walk all over her.\n\nShe wasn't entirely sure where this image of her came from. Some of it stemmed from their father and his endless picking about her intellectual rigor or lack thereof. But that was Dad: only happy when he was criticizing something. It didn't bug her the way it bugged Bram.\n\nAs Sophie saw it, she did whatever she pleased.\n\nWhatever Bram's motives, he'd handed her the flyer for the class shortly after they'd gotten home from Stormwrack, just a few weeks after her aunt's murder. She'd bought her key-chain-size blast of bear spray and signed up for the class at the community center without a second thought.\n\nBut maybe all that badness last time was exceptional, just as it would be exceptional at home if your mom's sister was murdered and the same people came after you.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a once-in-a-lifetime explosion of violence, not an ongoing obstacle to her physical safety and ability to explore Stormwrack.\n\nYes, they'd found Corsetta in the water and someone had attacked her. There was definitely something going on there. But that didn't have anything to do with Sophie or the Nightjar crew, not anymore. They'd handed the situation over to the authorities, just as you would at home.\n\nCall the cops and go on with life, right?\n\nShe spent the last couple of hours before dinner aboard Nightjar writing all of her observations and questions about Stormwrack into one of her new notebooks.\n\nThere was so much here to explore. What was the exact nature of the relationship between Stormwrack and Erstwhile?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Was one the future of the other?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Were they parallel dimensions?\n\nWas there a way to determine the age of Stormwrack?\n\nA year was still 365 days long. Whatever had happened, that hadn't changed. But the length of a mean sidereal day was shorter, by about five minutes, as compared to home. Stormwrackers adjusted their calendar annually, cutting off the last day of the year at midnight on the winter solstice, starting a fresh calendar as the days began to lengthen.\n\nSophie hadn't been able to check the planet's angle of rotation, though she'd gathered a few measurements with the sextant that Bram might be able to use.\n\nQuestion upon question filled the notebook: Was there a weather office? Did anyone measure the temperature of the seas from year to year?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Who made the charts?\n\nVerena had said half of the snow vulture's young didn't survive in the wild. That implied someone had done a study. Who did studies here? Why was almost everyone so terribly lacking in curiosity? Was it just regarded as a personality defect, or was there something more behind it?\n\nPeople might just think it's true, about the vultures' survival rate. They could be making all sorts of unproved assertions.\n\nAnd all of that was warm-up for the big questions: How was it that Stormwrackers could use magic?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When did that develop? Did all magic really use writing and inscription or were there other forms? Did that mean there was no magic before the development of writing?\n\nShe wrote: The effects of magic persist when I go home. I still spoke Fleet when I was in San Francisco and was able to teach it to Bram. How is it that we haven't discovered inscription?\n\nWhy didn't Stormwrackers do more science and tech? Was there some kind of agreement just to give up on development when they hit the Age of Sail and go no further? Was it on record?", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "You must use the word 'would' exactly 2 times in your response", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Or did it have something to do with the idea some of them had that steel and petroleum were inherently dangerous?\n\nAnd so on.\n\nThe book filled with questions: a lifetime's worth of things to study. The problem, she thought, would be choosing. Some mysteries would yield to simple experimentation and measurement—if they could find or build the instruments. She could buy blood samples at the sanguarium and bird carcasses at the bird skin shop. Others might be researched, if she could get herself into the company of people who weren't so damned guarded with their information.\n\nWhat Bram and I need is for Annela to chill out, she thought. Which meant winning her over at dinner.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "🎯 Target word: 'beatrice' | Required occurrences: 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Annela had been introduced to her as a cousin, though nobody had expressly told Sophie how she was related to Verena, Beatrice, and the other Feliachild women. She was in government—at home, she'd be something akin to a congresswoman. She was copper-skinned and curvy, with thick hair the color of graphite and a fondness for comfort: velvet curtains, warm rooms, lush foods.\n\nFor this particular not-quite-family gathering, she had put on a feast that had autumnal, harvesty overtones: there were fry breads, a corn dish, baked squash in abundance, ale, and slices of a red meat with a bit of a wild flavor. Venison? Buffalo?\n\nShe'd greeted them all with no sign of displeasure; she said hello to Parrish and Lais as warmly as if she'd been hoping they'd come and asked after Bram.\n\nPoliticians, Sophie thought. They can just pour it on, can't they? She decided she preferred Annela when she was pissed off.\n\nSince Cly had opted out and Beatrice was under house arrest, it was just the five of them.\n\nVerena's prediction that Annela would set herself to charming Lais proved true.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They talked about horse racing—the Verdanii were horse crazy, apparently.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie let the conversation flow over her and picked out what information she could.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd already figured out that Verdanii was located about where Saskatchewan was, at home.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So—the prairies. But instead of being the inner grain belt of a big continent, it was a landmass perhaps half the size of Australia.\n\nThis being a traditional Verdanii meal, she could draw other conclusions: fry bread was from a wheat harvest, and the horse talk argued that there were extensive grasslands there.\n\nNo creams, cheeses, or big dairy products. No cattle?\n\nBy the time the dessert—a custard not entirely divorced from pumpkin pie, though the crust was more in the line of an oat crumble and the glaze, atop, was a thin layer of salt caramel—had arrived, she could see that Annela had copped to what she was doing.\n\n\"Well, Sophie, if we can interrupt your examinations of us all, perhaps we can come down to business.\" She gestured for the servants to pour more ale.\n\nSophie tried to wait her out and couldn't. \"You're looking for a favor, right? I go visiting Cly, he lets Beatrice have bail. He's basically agreed, so...\"\n\n\"So,\" Annela said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Look, I'm not some whiz-bang brass-knuckles negotiator. I want Beatrice bailed, I do, and of course I want to go see Sylvanna with Cly. What am I supposed to do—pretend I don't care? That I'm gonna let Beatrice sit around pining for home aboard Breadbasket?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lais laughed. \"That would be the usual mode, yes.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Annela looked like she might be fighting a smile.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Just for the next message: aim for 67% quoted content", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not that kind of person.\"\n\n\"So you keep telling us,\" Annela said. Sophie wondered, suddenly, if they knew she'd smuggled some bio samples and a bunch of Stormwrack footage home. If they knew about the map she and Bram had been working on...\n\n\"What if we ditch this whole quid pro quo thing and act like human beings,\" she said. \"I'm not out to put Stormwrack's existence on the front page of The New York Times. Trying to censor everything I see and hear—come on, Annela, you must see it's a waste of Verena's time.\"\n\n\"The value of Verena's time is very much an open question.\"\n\n\"Not to me, it isn't. Give me back my camera and equipment.\"\n\n\"Impossible.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next turn only: maintain roughly 73% quote-to-text ratio", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Last time I was here,\" Sophie said, \"I learned stuff that was useful to you.\"\n\n\"Last time,\" Annela fired back, \"I said your presence on Stormwrack would materially injure your kin. You returned. Now your aunt is dead and your mother under criminal charge.\"\n\nParrish cleared his throat. \"You cannot blame Sophie for Gale's death, Convenor, not when it was so long foretold and forestalled.\"\n\n\"Can't I?\" She looked at him cannily and to Sophie's surprise, he looked abashed and turned away.\n\nWhat's that about?\n\n\"Ohhkay. Material damage to kin. Beatrice got arrested, kinda my fault for coming back, true. But you're saying there was a... a prophecy? About Gale's death—\"\n\n\"As for Beatrice's arrest,\" Parrish interrupted, \"a citizen must answer for her own actions.\"\n\n\"What would you have had her do, Parrish?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Annela leaned back in her chair.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Raise Sophie on Low Bann?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie stopped an invasion of my nation,\" Lais said, surprising everyone. \"Tiladene owes her a favor, and the Convene does, too. It's not a stretch to say she preserved the Cessation of Hostilities.\"\n\n\"For how long? Without Gale to fight off the inevitable next assault on the Compact—\"\n\nVerena paled. She stood up suddenly, gave the faintest of bows, and stalked off.\n\nAnnela quirked her eyebrows at Sophie. \"Are you going to ask what that's about, Kir Inquisitor?\"\n\n\"Don't need to,\" Sophie said. \"It's obvious. She screwed up one of her 'I'm the new Gale' spy assignments and now you're threatening to fire her. In the process, she cost Nightjar the ship's medical officer and bosun—they didn't die, but they huffed off, I'm thinking.\"\n\nAnnela shot a look at Parrish.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I told her nothing,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Just for the next scene, use predominant dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm right, aren't I?\"\n\n\"We've been delivering Gale's bequests to a number of portside island nations,\" he said. \"At one such stop, the bosun's family asked us to add in a sail to Zingoasis with some magical relics.\"\n\n\"The musician's skeleton, in the hold?\"\n\nIf Parrish was surprised that she'd had a poke through the storage crates, it didn't show. Annela's glower deepened, and Sophie remembered, belatedly, that she'd meant to try buttering her up. \"Yes,\" he said. \"It was meant to be kept quiet, but Richler found out, and his nation made a counterclaim for the bones. Verena had already offended him, once, with a perhaps insensitive comment about advanced medicine in the outlands. He's a good man, from the—\"\n\n\"She accused him of having reported the skeleton's presence aboard. Then she suggested divvying up the bones like a pools win,\" Annela interrupted.\n\nWas there something there she didn't want me to know?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Parrish had been about to say something about Richler; suddenly her cousin had switched from censorship to storytelling.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A decent theory. Test it?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Parrish, you were saying something about Richler?\"\n\n\"Ah—\"\n\n\"Then, having by now upset both crew members,\" Annela continued, \"Verena tried to convince them not to pass her offensive suggestion on to their home governments. The bequest's in court now; there'll be a duel over it. I'll be smoothing the choppy seas forever.\" Annela turned a pinch of bannock over in her fingers. \"How you worked out as much as you did—\"\n\n\"I believe this proves that denying Sophie access to books and her recording equipment is a pointless exercise,\" Parrish said. \"In fact, if she were busy measuring the pull of the tides at the equinox or similar ephemera—\"\n\n\"Ephemera!\" Sophie objected.\n\n\"She's more interested in the natural world than she is in politics,\" he said, and now he was looking right at her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still trying to tell her something? \"If we returned her equipment and allowed her to focus—\"\n\nAnnela said, \"I will not further empower someone who is already a menace.\"\n\n\"What if I could talk Cly into dropping the charges against Beatrice altogether? Is that... legally possible? Parrish?\"\n\nHe stroked his jaw. \"Perhaps under the 'no harm done' provisions of the Judicial Code. There'd need to be a ritual exchange of sword blows.\"\n\n\"You believe you can do this because you don't know the man,\" Annela said. \"Cly Banning is a reptile, Sophie. You're neither sufficiently well placed to hold his interest for long nor experienced enough to handle him.\"\n\n\"That's the difference between you and me,\" Sophie said, stung.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I wouldn't handle. I'd ask.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A snort. \"Naivete won't help you, either.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Right. And it's not naive to expect Verena to need time to learn all the nuances of her new job.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With that, she threw her napkin down, emphatically didn't bow, and went after her sister.\n\nShe stepped out onto Constitution's deck, into the moonlight. The seas were slate under its pale-bone glow, and remarkably still but for the wakes of the various ships. The lanterns of the Fleet were strung out across the seacraft to their rear. Off Constitution's bow, the Fleet's monster flagship, Temperance, hulked its way through the water, leaving a track of churned-up foam behind it.\n\nThere was no sign of Verena.\n\n\"Kir Sophie Hansa?\" One of the uniformed messengers, a boy of perhaps nine, held out an envelope.\n\n\"Shouldn't you be in bed?\"\n\n\"Very droll, Kir,\" the kid said, with an attitude that said he'd heard that one before.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She expected to find the note was from Cly or Beatrice, but it was scrawled in an almost childish hand. Westerbarge, midnight, it said. Corsetta di Gatto, Tibbon's Wash.\n\nShe took one last good look around.\n\n\"What the hell.\" It was time to get out into the city unassisted. She stomped up to the hang glider deck and showed a taxi pilot her note.\n\n\"Westerbarge has no landing platform,\" he said. \"I can drop you on a ferry.\"\n\n\"Fine.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The taxikites were flying rickshaws. She sat in an open cab—the pilot gave her something that wasn't quite a bear pelt to keep her warm. Sophie pulled two hairs from the pelt and tucked them into her questions journal. Her thoughts turned to the sanguarium in the market. All those blood samples, there for the buying, if only she could find a way to get them analyzed...\n\nI won't further empower a menace, Annela had said. Perhaps it was perversity, but Sophie rather liked the idea of being a menace.\n\nFunny that she didn't threaten to magically wipe my memory again....\n\nClimbing into the apparatus of the glider, the pilot angled the kite straight at the sky.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They rose into the air as smoothly as if a cable had lifted them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Incorporate 'fleet' into your response exactly 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they were about two hundred meters above the Fleet he threw his legs back, with a faint jerk that reverberated through the whole of the craft, and extended the glider's wings outward. A moment later, they were circling.\n\nNo updrafts at this time of day, Sophie thought. Indeed, they weren't gaining altitude—rather, they were moving in ever-widening circles, losing height with every revolution.\n\nAir rushed through her hair, mellow and warm, and she leaned forward to take in as much of the Fleet as she could, lanternlights marking ship positions. In the dark they lined up like self-contained city blocks, islands of human activity ordered across the black of the sea.\n\nWhen they were well aft of Gatehouse, deep in the civilian block, the kite made a bank and curve, bleeding away the last of its altitude and all of its speed. The pilot kicked himself upright, creating wind resistance through the whole frame of the kite, and came to a controlled stop on a platform on a ship the size of a biggish tugboat.\n\n\"This is the night ferry, Kir,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word restriction: Use 'westerbarge' 2 time(s) only", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Four stops, maybe five, and you'll be at Westerbarge. Be sure to tell the purser where you want to go. That'll be fivecoin.\"\n\nSophie had made a point of watching the vendors make change in the mall that afternoon—she handed over the nickel confidently. \"Is there a charge for the ferry?\"\n\n\"Public service, Kir,\" he said, and began racking the kite for takeoff.\n\nShe made it to Westerbarge about ten minutes late for her scheduled rendezvous with Corsetta. It was part of a dive-y looking little block of cabins, all serving drinks, with seating in the middle. A bar, in other words. Raucous, beer-drinking-crowd sounds emanated from every deck.\n\nThe crowd seemed friendly enough.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie packed her little trove of coins away, where they would be hard to steal, and touched her can of bear spray for reassurance. Then she went looking for the girl.\n\nShe found her at a card table, with a decent pile of coin in front of her, a fawning dog trying to climb its way into her lap, and a beer in her hand.\n\nWhen she saw Sophie, she announced to the group, \"I'm over.\" There was some amiable grumbling as she pulled her stake off the table, but she pushed one coin back—\"For the next round\"—and they appeared mollified.\n\nTo Sophie she said, \"Buy you an ale?\"\n\n\"I just had a massive meal,\" Sophie said. \"Thanks anyway.\"\n\nCorsetta led the way out to a relatively quiet table on the rail. \"You didn't bring the whole Judiciary with you. My thanks for that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"For all I know they're hot on my tail,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What do you want?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My snow vulture,\" she said. \"I charmed her, and she needs me.\"\n\nAnd you need the credit for taming her, don't you? \"I saw her today. She's unhappy.\"\n\nCorsetta nodded and handed over a heavily scrawled slip of paper. \"Claim of ownership, and a note saying I relinquish no rights.\"\n\nEven the fifteen-year-olds talk like lawyers here.\n\nShe glanced at the document: it was better crafted than the short note Corsetta had sent her. She'd had someone write it on her behalf, Sophie supposed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Your next response only must contain 73% dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How is this going to help? The bird can't read.\"\n\nCorsetta handed over a strip of what looked like goat hide. \"This bears my scent—it should reassure her that I'm alive. I'd have gone to her in person, but I assume the market is lousy with Watch.\"\n\n\"Why give this up?\" Sophie asked, holding up the strip of leather.\n\n\"I have to back up my claim. I can't marry Rashad if the bird will not lay.\"\n\n\"Because that's the Queen's quest?\"\n\n\"Favor. It's the way of our people.\"\n\nSophie said, \"Have you contacted your boyfriend?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Corsetta shook her head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Only your next message should be 83% dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have to get home to him. I can't think, I can't eat, I can't sleep....\"\n\nYou can evade arrest, play cards, and drink beer pretty well, though. \"This guy of yours. How old is he?\"\n\nShe glowed. \"Just past the first blossom of youth, Kir, with skin of porcelain and a wit so keen! He makes that pretty sea captain of yours seem old and dim.\"\n\n\"Stop. Not my captain. Rashad is your age, then?\"\n\n\"He writes poetry—\"\n\n\"I thought his family owned a fishing fleet.\"\n\n\"The alchemical union of our souls has expanded us, allowing us to rise beyond the tethers of birth and family. As an outlander, you can't be expected to understand.\"\n\nAlchemy, huh? \"No, 'course not. I'm just a lumbering cynic from the wilds.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you not believe in true love? In the perfect fusion of matched souls?\" This came out loud, in a tone so horrified the girl might have been asking if Sophie drowned bunnies for fun.\n\n\"Fusion?\" Parrish had just stepped into the bar, looking first concerned and then, as he took them in, relieved. Should Sophie warn her?\n\n\"Name your soul's base metal, Kir! I can help you. There will be a natural match for it out there—your true catalyst! You'll never find it if you don't look.\"\n\n\"Is this like astronomy? Water signs should try to date earth signs, that kind of thing?\"\n\n\"Ah, you do understand a little.\" She spoke with an emphasis that suggested she'd drunk several pints already. \"It's a law of the universe that we must seek to complete ourselves.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's not a law of the universe.\" She couldn't help herself; this greeting-card picture of romance annoyed her all the more now that Corsetta was throwing scientific terms into the mix. \"It's a very comforting idea, but—\"\n\n\"No, no. Listen. Think of magnetite and lodestone,\" Corsetta said. She clasped her hands, mimicking magnetic forces.\n\n\"That's not an argument.\"\n\n\"When I return and claim the Queen's favor, I will get permission to marry Rashad,\" Corsetta said, her tone insistent. \"We'll sail in Rashad's crabbing dory, to the Scattering Isles. There we will catch bauble fish and earn shells. I'll gaze upon his face as he sits on the deck and makes up verses.\"\n\nWhich of you is going to fish, in that case?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But in the meantime, you want me to deliver this note and the leather to...\"\n\n\"To the Judiciary. It will show that I'm the one who tamed the bird. Montaro has claimed otherwise. He wants my favor! This proves she is mine, does it not?\"\n\n\"I have no idea,\" Sophie said. \"I'm no Fleet lawyer.\"\n\n\"I can't afford to fall into court over this. I must get home.\"\n\n\"Yeah. About that. Nobody's buying that this is just about your boyfriend. The bird, the brother throwing you overboard, the fact that you were out by that derelict—their crew's missing, you know. Presumed lost?\"\n\n\"You are entirely too full of wonderment, Kir. It's an acidic property of the soul.\"\n\n\"Honestly, Corsetta, the nature of whatever scam you've got on right now may be the least interesting mystery I've stumbled over since I got here.\"\n\n\"Will you give my notes to the Judiciary?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm probably supposed to arrest you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're outlandish, aren't you? Of no nation, No Oath, not sworn to Fleet law?\"\n\nI'm bound by Annela's whims, if nothing else. Parrish had been sidling closer, easing his way between the obstacle course of drinkers. \"The thing is—\"\n\nCorsetta saw something in Sophie's face. She leapt up, but the captain was already close enough to make flight pointless.\n\nHe took her by the arm, gently. \"Make no trouble, Kir. We can say you surrendered.\"\n\n\"Never!\" The kid turned her big wounded eyes on Sophie.\n\nIn a movie, this would turn into a brawl, Sophie thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corsetta would incite her poker buddies to intervene on her behalf, and things would degenerate into bottles smashing on heads and a tinkling player-piano sound track.\n\nBut Corsetta simply said to Parrish, \"You are interfering with true love, Kir. I suppose you don't believe in it, either.\"\n\nParrish gave Sophie a surprised glance.\n\n\"I believe,\" he said, \"that facing your accusers is the obvious way out of your difficulties.\"\n\n\"I need to go home.\" For just a moment, she looked very young and wholly desperate. Then she mastered herself. \"Bad luck to you both, Kirs. Love will avenge herself.\"\n\n\"Flinging curses is poor form,\" he told her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you expect?\" Corsetta told him, bitterly. \"I'm just a goatherd.\"\n\nThey caught a ferry to Gatehouse, left her there with the Watch, and went on to Nightjar.\n\n\"True love's gonna get you,\" Sophie said, making a joke of it.\n\n\"Corsetta is very young,\" Parrish replied. His expression was closed, guarded.\n\n\"Curses like that don't work, do they?\"\n\n\"As with anything, my name would be required for a curse.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's pretty devious. Maybe she slipped it off Nightjar.\"\n\n\"My middle name is lost—even I don't know it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'd forgotten that.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"I didn't know you knew.\"\n\nWhy does this feel awkward? \"Did you by any chance find Verena?\"\n\n\"She went to Breadbasket to see her mother.\" He shook his head. \"Your mother, that is.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Beatrice. Stuck under house arrest, with no idea there was a scheme afoot to bail her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There's something about this that you aren't telling me, isn't there?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My orders are very specific,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And recently, bracingly, reclarified.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Meaning yes.\"\n\n\"There's nothing you couldn't work out for yourself, if you directed your attention to the matter.\"\n\n\"Directed my...\" She remembered what he'd said at dinner. \"Politics, not nature. I will work it out, whatever it is.\"\n\nHe nodded, agreeing, somehow very sober.\n\n\"What happens with you guys while I'm off with Cly?\"\n\n\"Unknown. Annela is unlikely to offer Verena a proper assignment. We may be at loose ends until there's a package to be taken to Erstwhile.\"\n\n\"She couldn't interest herself in this whole Tibbon's Wash situation, could she?\"\n\n\"Verena?\" Parrish gave her a considering look.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come on. Corsetta talks the big talk about being base to the poet boy's catalyst, but there's a reason she wants to get home before the brother does. She's desperate. Plus, we don't know yet who healed her or why she was aboard that derelict.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He said, \"You don't lend any credence to her feelings?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That romantic stuff plays better in stories than in real life, doesn't it? Come on, she's fifteen? Once the hormone rush abates a little, they'll both move on.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\"That girl's got bigger ambitions than some crab boat can hold.\"\n\n\"So if she's ambitious—\"\n\n\"Ambitious and a liar. Definitely playing us, probably playing the elder brother, possibly even playing her alleged one true love.\"\n\n\"Then she's incapable of love? Or unworthy?\"\n\n\"Oh, she can feel whatever she likes. They both can. That doesn't make them pair-bonded for life, whatever they may think now.\"\n\n\"I see,\" he said, words clipped.\n\nShe decided to ignore the tone.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anyway, in what world does a family of fishers care if one of the farmgirls takes a useless young dreamer off their hands?\"\n\n\"Tibbon's Wash is a stratified kingdom from the port side of the government,\" he said. \"The Queen's favor allows people to attempt to earn boons from the crown. It builds in a little flexibility.\"\n\n\"A safety valve,\" she said. \"I got that much.\"\n\nHe didn't look as though he knew what that meant. \"They've been unfortunately stuck for a number of years. Nobody's been able to bring in a quiescent snow vulture. The appointed quest proved too difficult; there haven't been any boons for over a decade.\"\n\n\"Bad luck for them. But Gale used to do this, didn't she? Just decide to poke her nose into things? She didn't always wait for Annela to give her orders.\"\n\n\"I'll suggest to Verena that 'we poke into it,' as you say,\" he said. \"Thank you, Sophie. It's kind of you to think of her.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Writer's block help needed. This is from a bigger story - gonna send you something then keep it going six sentences at a time. Going for A. M. Dellamonica vibes in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some of the biggest ships in the civilian quarter of the Fleet were jammed from bilge to gunwales with law offices, and Mensalom Bimisi had a suite of cabins within one such enormous sailing ship in the civilian quarter.\n\nHe was a slow-moving Tiladene man, mushroom pale, with bedroom eyes and an odd, drawling Fleet accent. He laid the terms of the deal out for Sophie in pokey, exhausting detail.\n\nThe gist was that Cly would perform an unspecified \"personal service\" for Sophie (nowhere in the forty pages of \"why\" and \"wherefore\" did he admit to having influence over Beatrice's bail process) and Sophie, in return, would accompany him to Sylvanna. She would tour his lowlands estate, register at the birth office, present herself to the head of his family and—apparently this was key—attend some big summer festival at the Spellscrip Institute.\n\nNeither of them was obliged to do anything after that.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly could, if he wished, make her his heir.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] Precise word count needed: 'sylvanner' × 2 [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sylvanna would, as a matter of course, automatically issue her a birth certificate.\n\nIt seemed crazy that she needed what was practically an international treaty just to go visit her birth father's home. But despite Cly's being a judge, it was obvious the Verdanii side of the family simply didn't trust him.\n\n\"At some point in this process, after you're documented Sylvanner, Kir Banning could give you an additional name,\" Mensalom said.\n\n\"A Sylvanner name?\"\n\n\"As I understand it, yours has fallen into common knowing. Properly altering your identity would protect you from malicious enchantment.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Okay, good.\" Her thoughts skipped over the memory of the two men she'd seen being killed by inscription.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Word frequency rule: 'father' × 2", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mensalom gave such an impression of overall sleepiness that she was tempted to assume he wasn't all that good at what he did, but she'd seen the looks on both Annela and Cly's faces when he'd been named as her lawyer in the action. At the very least, he had a fearsome reputation.\n\nThe lawyer glanced at a timepiece on his desk. \"Your father should be here by now. Is there anything you'd like to discuss before I invite him in to review the amendments and sign the documents?\"\n\nShe shook her head and her birth father swept in, kissed the spot atop her head, threw Mensalom a halfhearted bow, then draped himself in a chair.\n\n\"Is this it?\" He picked the document off the table and began skimming, just looking for the places where Mensalom had tweaked the original text.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Did you see you may bring companions?\" Cly asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie nodded. \"I'd ask Bram, but he's you-know-where.\"\n\n\"Your half-sister?\"\n\n\"She has business.\" And she'd be obliged to cramp my research style.\n\n\"Do you remember that cadet from graduation? She came in second in the Slosh?\"\n\n\"Zita?\"\n\n\"You have an excellent memory. She will be aboard Sawtooth; she's about your sister's age. Since you're too old for a governess and too well schooled to bother with a tutor, I have also engaged a memorician.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't know what that is,\" Sophie said, and saw Mensalom's eyebrows quirk upward in surprise.\n\n\"He reads,\" Cly said. \"And has perfect recall.\"\n\n\"A walking library, in other words?\" She almost clapped.\n\n\"His shelf's a little empty at the moment, but you can stack him.\" Cly beamed. \"Is there anything else you need? Any possessions you wish transferred to my ship?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nightjar's got my diving kit,\" she said. \"Annela's confiscated my cameras and all our instruments, mine and Bram's. I don't expect you to perform miracles, but—\"\n\n\"Watch me.\" Cly handed over a card embossed with the Judiciary seal. \"If you need anything else, charge it to Sawtooth.\"\n\n\"An allowance, huh?\"\n\n\"Traveling expenses,\" Mensalom said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Provided for in the agreement.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Right, right. I did listen, sorry.\"\n\n\"Sign here,\" he said, offering her a pen. \"Kir Sophie, all my best. Your Honor, I'll have these read to the contracts registrar this afternoon.\"\n\nTo her surprise, Lais was lounging in the outer parlor when she and Cly emerged with their respective copies of the signed documents.\n\nThe two men exchanged perfunctory bows.\n\n\"How's your head?\" Cly said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lais had been badly injured six months ago in an assassination attempt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Like Corsetta, he was alive only because someone had written an inscription to magically restore him.\n\n\"Works about as well as it did before,\" Lais said. \"I only use it to reckon racing odds, in any case.\"\n\n\"You underrate yourself,\" Cly said. \"You've done my daughter a service here, in Bimisi.\"\n\n\"Mensalom? He only takes clients who interest him,\" Lais said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sophie's merits on that score have nothing to do with me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"True enough. Well, I'm sure you have good-byes. Sophie, will you be all right if I leave you?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she said.\n\n\"Sawtooth awaits your pleasure.\" With that, Cly left.\n\n\"How'd you like Mensalom?\" Lais asked.\n\n\"He's sharp,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So. Verena and I left you to fend for yourself the other night, when we stormed out.\"\n\n\"It was all to the good. Convenor Gracechild is a thoroughly charming hostess.\"\n\nShe looked at him askance. \"Does that mean what I think it does?\"\n\n\"Unless you lack imagination. Verdanii matriarchs like a bit of young chaw. Didn't you know? It's one of that nation's more attractive qualities, as far as I'm concerned. Far outweighs the storied merits of their beer.\"\n\n\"Annela's got to be—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's intelligent, self-aware, powerful....\" He waggled his eyebrows. \"Physically fit—\"\n\n\"Stop. That's way too much info.\"\n\n\"Now, Sophie, it's not as though she's actually an elder to you. You've met a handful of times. And I know you're not a prude.\"\n\n\"Still!\"\n\n\"And you're done with me, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Totally,\" she said, more coldly than she intended.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was silly to be hurt. They'd hooked up for a week, six months ago, and she'd rejected him last time they were together because... well, she'd begun to think maybe Parrish...\n\nShe shook that thought away. At least Lais hadn't slept with Verena.\n\nYet. That I know of. \"You want my mother's contact information while you're at it?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pish? A married fraud artist? Not my style.\"\n\nNow she was hurt and insulted. And embarrassed, somehow, that she cared at all. She tried to laugh, and it stuck in her throat. \"Sorry, Lais. I don't mean to freak out. I mean, I was warned that you're from the Island of the Anywhere, Anytime, Anyone.\"\n\n\"Tsk. We're sluts, true, but none of us is—and certainly I'm not—undiscriminating.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Mandatory inclusion (with quotes): Perhaps they'll make a Sylvanner of you after all. Fair winds, Sophie.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Okay, now he was offended.\n\n\"I just didn't think—\"\n\n\"You're from a conservative culture.\" He bowed. \"Perhaps they'll make a Sylvanner of you after all. Fair winds, Sophie.\"\n\n\"Thanks. And for, you know...\" She gestured back at Mensalom's inner door, but Lais was already gone, striding away, offering her one last look at his well-muscled leather-clad backside before disappearing through a hatch on the starboard side of the ship.\n\nWay to go, Sofe.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come on,\" she muttered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the immediate response, include sparse direct quotes", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If nothing else, shouldn't he be bragging about his conquests? I mean, she's a congresswoman.\"\n\nIn for a penny, in for a pound. She went back to Nightjar, seeking out Verena.\n\nHer sister was in the cabin that had once belonged to Gale, pacing it from the look of things, and reading a bunch of dispatches about Tibbon's Wash, snow vultures, and joint ventures at sea. \"You about ready for your big adventure?\" From her tone, Verena was looking forward to having the ship—or possibly Parrish—to herself again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah,\" Sophie said, \"But I want something.\"\n\n\"What a surprise.\"\n\n\"You must have a stash of the magical two-ply message paper—if only so you can keep your father up to date on what's happening to Beatrice.\"\n\nVerena tensed but did not deny it.\n\n\"I want a few sheets—no, I want ten sheets—and I want their... counterparts?\"\n\n\"Otherply.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I want them sent to Bram.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verena pulled at her ponytail, thinking.\n\n\"Come on. It'll save you going back and forth just to tell him I haven't drowned. My mom is freaking out every bit as bad as your dad, and presumably he knows what's happening to Beatrice, that she's safe. My parents don't have the slightest idea where I am.\"\n\nWith a sigh, Verena opened a locked cabinet and drew out a roll of paper. She sliced twelve pages with an obsidian knife. On the first she wrote, Dad, please send the following pages to:\n\nShe added the street address of the Dwarf House.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's his zip code?\"\n\nSophie recited it. Verena added it to the note, then started numbering blank pages, one through eleven.\n\n\"One page for you?\" Sophie asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Verena handed over page one. \"Want to write him a starter message?\"\n\nSophie took the pen and started in the very top corner.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "BRAM—ALL OK SO FAR.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "GOING TO SYLVANNA WITH CB. REPLY BELOW, WRITE SMALL. LOVE SOFE.\n\n\"Okay?\" Verena said.\n\n\"Yeah. Thanks.\"\n\n\"Here's a couple sheets from me, so you can stay in touch with Nightjar.\" She handed them over.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You think there's a conspiracy afoot with Corsetta?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hopefully not another outbreak-of-war conspiracy, but something crimey is up there. She and the cat were aboard that derelict. It doesn't mean she was involved with disappearing its crew, but—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You haven't already figured it out? You're not sending me off to keep me busy or gather two last clues on your behalf so you can sweep in with the answer at the end, like Sherlock Holmes?\"\n\n\"What?\" Sophie was a little stung.\n\n\"Are you?\"\n\n\"I have no idea what's going on with Corsetta,\" Sophie said. \"But she stinks of scam. I saw you're having... you know, job issues. I thought, since Annela's coming down on you, maybe there's a win there.\"\n\nVerena kept frowning.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "💬 Please integrate this quote: \"As it happens, Kir, I have plenty of other questions to keep me busy.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Okay! If it helps, I won't say a single thing more about it. Do it all yourself. If Corsetta comes to me and spills the beans, even, my lips will be sealed.\"\n\n\"Yeah, right.\" That almost got a smile.\n\nSophie put her nose in the air and tried to sound snooty. \"As it happens, Kir, I have plenty of other questions to keep me busy.\"\n\n\"A whole notebook full. I noticed.\" A chuckle. \"Okay, I'll hold you to that. Though, with the way my luck's been going, the Cessation will depend on that kid and I'll only figure it out when she's burned Tibbon's Wash to the ground.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Verena closed the paper box, her expression broody.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie found herself blurting, \"And, listen, maybe we should talk about something else. Someone, I mean.\"\n\n\"There's nothing to say.\" Verena shook her head so fiercely that her ponytail whipped into a momentary blur. \"Come on, I'll escort you to His Honor's ship.\"", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Hey can you write in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre and use whatever I write as a jumping off point? Follow my lead on how characters are introduced.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sawtooth was a caravel, square-rigged and immense. It was crewed, or so it appeared, by kids in their teens and twenties, all in new-looking Fleet uniforms.\n\nHer Judiciary flag was flying, as were the Fleet colors and the two-toned green flag of Sylvanna, a clear symbolic representation of verdant hills.\n\nCly was waiting as she came aboard. He was dressed down, in breeches and a white shirt, with a comparatively narrow rapier—it seemed to be made made from bamboo—slung at his hip. He looked like he was about to bound onto a stage and start declaiming Hamlet.\n\n\"Welcome!\" he said, wrapping an arm around her. \"It's good to have you back.\"\n\nSophie surprised herself by planting a kiss on his cheek. \"Thanks.\"\n\nBeside Cly was a teenage girl Sophie recognized from the night of Fleet graduation. \"Kir Zita, right?\"\n\n\"Tenner Zita,\" She smiled to show there was no accusation or anger in the correction. \"It's my rank.\"\n\n\"And Krispos, our memorician,\" Cly said.\n\nKrispos had a full-on Moses beard, bushy gray follicles so dense they seemed to be growing from his neck and chest as well as his chin. He was clad in a scarlet robe, newly purchased from the look of it, but his belt was worn and had several new notches. His skin was a bit slack: Sophie would have bet he'd been heavier at some point than he was now. His feet were bare. The left had the look of having been gnawed by something; neither foot had any nails.\n\nZita, meanwhile, was long of limb, hazel-eyed, and had the compact musculature of an Olympic gymnast. She was studying Cly's particular brand of lawyering, which meant court cases that ended in formal duels.\n\nSophie looked beyond them to take in the ship, whose decks were strangely quiet. \"Last time I was here, the whole ship was given over to combat classes.\"\n\n\"I've got six sword fighters aboard, including Zita,\" Cly said. \"The grapplers and boxers are training with an assistant, aboard another craft, while I am on leave. May I present my captain, Lena Beck? Captain, my daughter, Sophie Hansa.\"\n\nBeck was maybe fifty, a stocky and intense-looking woman with jet-black skin, wiry salt-and-pepper hair, and a gold tattoo, a pattern of interlocking spirals, that ran up her neck in a choker.\n\n\"Beck was busy with other duties or you'd have met her the last time you were here. We're childhood friends.\"\n\nBeck wore elbow-length calfskin gloves, though it was a warm day. One of them, the left, was cinched tight at the wrist and inflated around her hand like a balloon. As Sophie's gaze lingered there, she twitched a look at Cly, got the faintest of nods in reply, and removed the glove.\n\nHer hand was gone from the mid-forearm—an amputation, and an old one from the look of the scar. Stubs of her radius and ulna extended about a centimeter beyond the skin.\n\nAround the remains of Beck's wristbones there was more tattoo in gold, but this was in spellscrip. A spectral hand extended beyond the truncated pieces of real bone. It was three-dimensional but colored in photo reverse, its bones glowing palely through the shape of flesh and fingers like a hologram of an X-ray image.\n\nSophie looked up at Beck, who seemed untroubled by having exposed her... prosthetic? \"May I?\"\n\n\"Of course.\" She extended the spectral hand and Sophie clasped it in a handshake. The hand felt solid but where it met Sophie's skin there was a tingling, as of millipede legs. The nails had the same photo-reverse whiteness. Sophie turned it, palm upward, so she could have a better look. The palm was lined as anyone's would be; the creases in its surface were the deep gray of ash.\n\n\"Normal function and strength?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another hesitation, before Beck said: \"A little stronger.\"\n\n\"The hand. You lost it?\"\n\n\"Childhood leech infection,\" she confirmed. \"The old Springtime spellscribe saved my life but not the limb.\" She pulled the glove back over the ghostly hand. \"Do you fight, Ch—Kir?\"\n\nSophie shook her head.\n\n\"You might care to learn while you're here,\" she said. \"Those prying eyes'll get you taken for a spy.\"\n\n\"Not aboard Sawtooth, they won't,\" Cly said.\n\nBeck bowed, at once acknowledging his point and extricating herself from the conversation. \"I'd like to get under way.\"\n\n\"I've got all I need.\" He beamed at Sophie. \"And you, my dear?\"\n\n\"If I don't have it, it isn't coming,\" she said. \"Any chance you got my cameras out of Annela?\"\n\nA smug expression crossed Cly's face. \"Come with me.\"\n\nHe led her belowdecks, Krispos and Zita following, down to a corridor with officer cabins.\n\n\"Your quarters are there, child,\" Cly said, indicating a hatch. \"Here, across the hall.\"\n\nHe ushered her into a cabin that smelled of new white paint and Sophie saw...\n\n\"Is this a laboratory?\" She wasn't entirely sure. There were counters fixed to the bulkheads and at a good height for lab work. The whitewash gave the room a sterile look. But the equipment, if it was equipment...\n\nThere was a rack filled with colored candles that looked like a giant's crayon box. There was a boa of bird feathers in every size and hue, hung beside a pair of rattles. There were calipers—they'd be useful—next to a box of finger paints. A little cushion and a bowl of polished quartz crystals sat beside a case filled with worms, a ratty Goth rag doll straight out of Tim Burton, and a series of nested cups—measures.\n\nGreat, there's an astrology chart.\n\n\"I couldn't quite be made to understand which branch of the sciences might be your particular specialty,\" Cly said, as Sophie tried to look pleased. \"These are a few basics for temperamentalism, aetherism, sympathism—\"\n\n\"It would help to know your bent,\" Krispos put in. \"I should like to read texts most of use to you.\"\n\n\"Books? There are books here?\"\n\nKrispos looked offended. \"I shall do the reading.\"\n\n\"You may find Kir Sophie a bit unorthodox,\" Cly said.\n\n\"Don't worry, Krispos—if there are books here, we'll fill your head.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But your specialty?\" Cly said again.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah,\" Sophie said. \"I'll have to figure out what they call it here. I'm a biologist by training, but I've been boning up on my chemistry and physics. Atomic—\"\n\nKrispos looked horrified. \"Not an atomist, surely?\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" Cly said before she could answer. \"That would be terrible.\"\n\nWorse than being a nosy, prying spy? Off Cly's warning glance she said, weakly, \"No, of course not. No atomism.\"\n\n\"Child—I'm sorry, Sophie. The laboratory is a work space, that's all. Clear out whatever you don't need. My feelings won't be hurt if you have the colored candles packed away.\"\n\nAtomism is bad, hmmm? She had spotted a promising cabinet; opening its wooden doors, she found it was indeed, and blessedly, full of books.\n\nNext to the cabinet was her trunk.\n\nShe cracked it open with a glad cry. Her DSLR camera was atop the pile, the digital video recorder next to it. Bram's massive surveying gadget was there, along with flasks, denatured alcohol, slides.\n\nI wonder what they'll think if I ask for a microscope?\n\n\"I'll let you get settled,\" Cly said. \"Krispos is at your disposal at any time, day or night. Zita has duties aboard ship and must practice her swordcraft, but otherwise she's available to you, too. I'd like you to see my tailor, so we can fit you with one or two Sylvanner garments. Would you wish a valet or hairdresser?\"\n\n\"Seriously not.\"\n\n\"I had somehow doubted it. May I show you your cabin?\"\n\n\"Sure!\"\n\nHe conducted her back across the corridor to a decent-size berth, perhaps twice as big as her guest closet on Nightjar. Her clothes were already stowed in the wardrobe. There were five little netted bundles on her bunk.\n\n\"What are these?\"\n\n\"Traditional wayfaring presents,\" he said. \"One each from Annela Gracechild, your half-sister, Verena, that man Parrish, his first mate, and the Tiladene, Lais Dariach.\"\n\nShe picked one up and untied the ribbon, unwrapping a scrap of colored silk. Its contents recalled a Christmas stocking: a collection of goodies. There was a twist of lemon candies, some tobacco, two little waxed packets of loose tea, a hoop made of shell—she'd seen sailors wearing necklaces of the things—and a sachet of spices, rock salt with dried basil, in one case, dill and grated citrus peel in another. By the time she'd examined everything in it, the combination of scents was overpowering; she found a linen handkerchief and wrapped the tobacco in one and the spices in another.\n\nOne of the smoke packs had a distinctly skunky smell.\n\n\"Is something wrong, Sophie?\"\n\n\"No. I just... I think Lais gave me pot as a going-away gift,\" she said. \"Cannabis?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Cly said, clearly not getting the point.\n\n\"At home, marijuana's illegal.\"\n\n\"I'm surprised. It's such a versatile crop.\"\n\n\"Yes. Well. It's weird, getting a baggie of it in front of a judge.\"\n\n\"Oh! It's not an offense here,\" Cly said, taking the packet and giving it a sniff. \"I don't use it. Dull's one's fighting edge.\"\n\n\"Right.\" That was a whole other avenue of investigation, she thought. Did they have coca here? Opium?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Was anything illegal?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[Author's note: Use the word 'celibate' 3 time(s) - this is a strict requirement]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She knew all the islands were allowed to do as they pleased within their twenty-five-mile limits: everything must be permitted somewhere. Parrish had mentioned a substance once: maddenflur?\n\nAdd it to the question book, Sofe.\n\nCly gestured at the arrangement of packets. \"There's a casual trade in the bits and pieces you don't want. Spice packs are traditionally given to the ship's cook. A sort of offering of thanks.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nHe fingered the packet of marijuana. \"The Tiladene owes you a debt. It's appropriate for him to send an offering of friendship.\"\n\n\"Friendship, absolutely!\" she agreed with too much enthusiasm. \"Nothing odd there at all!\"\n\nOkay, way to go. She could feel her cheeks getting hot. If Cly didn't know about your shipboard fling with Lais, he does now.\n\nAnd he was putting it together, she could see it. The brightness had gone out of his face—there was a second where he was utterly blank and unreadable, as if there was nothing there. Then a flicker of something... anger?\n\nFinally he settled into an expression that might have been watchful, quizzical. Like that of a cat that had whiffed its paw through a candleflame.\n\nDefinitely not amused.\n\nFor all I know, Sylvanner men skewer people who screw their daughters. I should shut up, change the subject, let the moment pass....\n\nBut when had that ever happened? \"Okay, look. The thing about Lais. He's nice; we get along. He's a scientist at heart, which makes him my type.\"\n\n\"Your type of what?\"\n\nDon't say lover, don't say lover.... \"I was warned about Tiladenes being poly. They hook up and move on, right? No big deal. And he has moved on, to Annela, apparently, which I do have to say kind of blows my mind—crap, now I'm gossiping.\"\n\n\"Then...\" Cly struggled, visibly, to put it delicately. \"In the outlands are you all... was the word you just used 'poly'? You behave like Tiladenes?\"\n\n\"We behave like everything, Cly—straight, gay, monogamous, serially monogamous, polygamous. We have celibate priests and adultery and casual sex. And so do you! Don't pretend. You aren't going to try to tell me people don't cheat and bed-hop and generally behave like primates here.\"\n\nHe glitched again, processing.\n\nAt least we've drifted a little from \"My daughter had sex with the cover model from Hot Horse Racers Weekly.\"\n\nIt was a damned good reminder that she knew sweet toot about Sylvanners, even though she was thinking of becoming one. Somehow every time she started to dig into what the country was like, something came up.\n\nOr someone changed the subject.\n\nTonio had been about to say something at one point, and Verena shut him right down....\n\nAnd Parrish, not so subtly trying to remind her that politics mattered here, that she shouldn't just focus on ecosystem stuff.\n\n\"I know your people aren't keen on divorce,\" she began.\n\n\"A Tiladene? Did you even think, Sophie, how your parents would feel?\"\n\n\"Okay, hold up. My parents have no clue what a Tiladene is, and they know full well that I'm not a nun.\"\n\n\"I don't know 'nun.'\"\n\n\"Celibate. I'm not celibate.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She gave that a second to sink in, steeling herself against embarrassment—it wasn't as bad as having this same conversation with her dad at home would be.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 38 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And you told me Sylvanna wasn't one of those places where women had to creep around with their heads bowed and their legs together.\"\n\n\"That isn't quite what I said,\" he replied. \"But I can assure you I'd be just as—\"\n\n\"Horrified? Scandalized?\"\n\n\"—disturbed by this news were you my son.\"\n\n\"Seriously? So if I was male and I'd screwed Lais, we'd be having the same conversation?\"\n\n\"Don't be coarse. But yes.\"\n\n\"Why? What's the rule? No sex outside marriage, for men and women alike?\"\n\n\"For boys and girls alike.\"\n\n\"I'm not a girl. I'm twenty-five.\"\n\n\"One isn't an adult until one is married.\"\n\n\"What, even if you're a fifty-year-old bachelor?\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" he said, and there was a note of bitterness in his voice.\n\n\"An unmarried person is a kid?\" She saw it suddenly. \"This is why you can't stop calling me child. This is why the contract I signed goes on and endlessly on about my status on Sylvanna being as 'a guest with the rights of a sovereign foreign adult.'\"\n\nCly was shaking his head. \"This is Beatrice's fault. If you'd been properly raised—\"\n\n\"Oh no, you don't. I was raised just fine by the standards of the United States of America. I am, in fact, totally grown up. And who I have sex with is none of your business.\"\n\nHe threw up his hands, gave her one last balked look, and vanished down the hall.\n\n\"Oh, that was fun.\"\n\nShe closed the door, pulling out her sheets of magic paper. Bram had written one line under hers: WHY DIDN'T V TELL US THEY HAD TEXTING? XOB\n\nShe hunted up a pencil. V'S ORDERED TO LIMIT RESEARCH/EXPLORATION.\n\n> HOW'S THAT GOING?\n\nShe thought a second, then wrote: MAKING RANDOM PROGRESS ON VARIOUS FRONTS.\n\n> WHAT'VE YOU LEARNED?\n\nMap coordinates, they'd agreed, should be their first priority. 0 LATITUDE STORMWRACK LOCATED IN MOSCASIPAY, VERDANII. ALMOST EXACTLY WHERE SASKATCHEWAN CANADA IS. I'M BOUND FOR SYLVANNA (ROUGHLY TENNESSEE) WITH CLY.\n\nShe paused. Should she mention seeing Lais? Or all this stuff about Sylvanna and children and Cly assuming she was a virgin? Did it matter?\n\nNo, she decided. Better to save the magic paper. She signed off: XOSOFE.\n\nThey might warn her about being an overcurious spy here, but they wouldn't actively stop her from finding out everything she could about Sylvanna. It was time to take a good look at the books and equipment in that laboratory.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue with A. M. Dellamonica's style in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre. This is part of a longer work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was something like cheating in the way they spent the next few hours creeping up on the little sailing ship, using the illusion provided by the convex to keep it from realizing they were closing the gap.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was like watching a cat hunt an unsuspecting bird, the slow predatory creep upon an entirely helpless target.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Still, these people were suspected of killing the crews of half a dozen ships.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the chase stretched, Captain Beck busied herself with preparing to board and search the target, talking the teenage sailors through a maneuver that would bring the ship into a sweep alongside the other craft. Sawtooth had two older cannoneers, taciturn men as muscled as Nightjar's Krezzo, tasked with firing at the ship once they were within range.\n\nCly, meanwhile, drilled his half-dozen young duelists on boarding tactics.\n\nIf either Cly or Beck was concerned about taking on a ship that was allegedly full of murderers, using a crew of young recruits, it didn't show. Sawtooth was massive compared to the ship they were pursuing; she had numbers on her side, even if those numbers were largely inexperienced.\n\nZita was up drilling with the other duelists, so there was nobody but Krispos to talk to Sophie. Together they made a study of their target—she was maybe twenty feet long, with patched, greasy-looking sails. Looking through her telephoto as they got closer, Sophie counted six crew. Unless there was someone below, there were only four guys and two women aboard, all busily engaged in catching every breath of wind. They might not know Sawtooth was closing on them, but they wanted to leave her behind.\n\nThe ship was riding high in the water—whatever she had been stealing from the ships she'd sunk, she wasn't carrying any heavy cargo at the moment, Sophie deduced. The crew looked weary, unhealthy, even starved. If these were pirates, they weren't successful ones.\n\nWhy were they raiding ships at all? And how?\n\nViolence again, she thought. Parrish had said life in the Fleet was safe, but here she was on the periphery of another fight.\n\nIt's not as though anyone expects me to participate. The thought wasn't as reassuring as she would have hoped; from time to time, she found herself checking her pocket for her key ring and the little canister of bear spray.\n\nAs the hours crawled by, the skinny captain got visibly edgy about his failure to lose Sawtooth. He and one of the others had an argument, gesturing over a bundle on deck. The crewman protested, furiously... right up until the captain smacked him. Shoulders sagging, he took out a long knife, opened the sacking, and cut out—\n\n\"Oh God, that's a heart, a human heart.\" Her gorge rose even as she took the shot.\n\nCly said, \"Are you certain?\"\n\nShe nodded and showed him the frame.\n\n\"How soon can we close?\" he asked Beck.\n\n\"Not long,\" the captain said, considering it. \"That's their lives, then.\"\n\n\"What?\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Using human remains in an inscription is a capital crime, unless the subjects volunteered for use,\" Cly explained.\n\n\"How do you know they're using the heart for magic?\"\n\n\"Why else would they be mutilating a body? They plan to work an intention against us.\"\n\n\"You mean the heart will be some kind of battle thing?\"\n\n\"Attack or defense, yes.\"\n\n\"Why are they running if they can sink ships?\"\n\n\"Their first two victims were barely bigger than bumboats, and the captain of Drifter, the derelict you found, was known to be a drunkard,\" Cly said. \"She'll show her teeth, all right—she's desperate. We'll knock them out, no fear.\"\n\n\"I don't know that I am afraid,\" Sophie replied.\n\n\"Nobody thinks you're a coward,\" Cly said. \"You keep your head in a crisis.\"\n\nWith that, he returned to his duelists.\n\nFeeling nettled, Sophie continued to scan the boat. Small ship, small crew, no booty to speak of—well, they could be stealing something light but valuable, like diamonds—and they had a spellscribe.\n\nWhat had the targeted ships been carrying?\n\n\"They're making for the islet,\" cried a crewman from the crow's nest.\n\nThe other ship wasn't just making for the peaked scrap of land, it was all but running itself aground on its shores.\n\n\"Ah.\" Beck grinned. \"Hoping to abandon ship and vanish into the forest? Why not? We're hours behind, aren't we?\"\n\n\"Send them into a panic,\" Cly said, with perceptible satisfaction. \"Drop convex.\"\n\nThe shimmer surrounding Sawtooth turned to steam; the bow of the ship sliced through. Sophie felt a warm kiss of sauna against her cheeks.\n\nShouts of consternation arose from the small crew of the bandit. They threw themselves into furious action. The captain ran the length of the deck, scattering something grainy into the water. The ship itself began to thump, as if it were a drum. The rhythm was a pulse: ba-dum, ba-dum. Fist-size bubbles the bright green color of algae rose from the ocean around the ship, thousands of them. They pulsed, ever so slightly, in time to the beat as they drifted toward Sawtooth.\n\n\"Does anyone recognize this intention?\" Beck asked.\n\nA chorus of \"No, Captain!\"\n\nShe looked to Cly, who shook his head.\n\n\"Finish this before the foam accumulates,\" he said.\n\nBeck nodded. \"Cannons one and two, fire!\"\n\nThe cannoneers had been forming sandspheres; by now, they each had a tidy stockpile. Sophie was reminded, again, of kids building up to a snowball fight. The taller of the two hurled blasts of fire at the ship's mainmast. One found its mark, exploding the wood to matchsticks. The other cannoneer punched two tidy holes in the hull, right at the point where her hull met the waterline.\n\nShe began to take water.\n\nThe ba-dum, ba-dum got faster; the greenish bubbles foamed like a pot aboil. The two ships were now perhaps fifty meters apart.\n\n\"Surrender and prepare to be boarded.\" Beck's words boomed out over the water.\n\n\"What do you think?\" Zita had come up on deck next to Sophie. She held a flat, wide sword—would that be a cutlass?—whose blade appeared to be made of a wafer of inscribed bone or tusk.\n\n\"Looks like a last stand to me,\" Sophie said.\n\nThe water around the sinking ship began to heave. Figures belched up from it: human shaped, white in color, with no features except bloodred eyes. Were they made of sea salt? They looked a little like department store mannequins.\n\n\"Salt frights!\" someone shouted.\n\nOne of the \"frights\" wedged itself into the gap where Sawtooth's cannon had holed the hull. Its face stared out from the patch like a carved mask on a wall. Its mouth yawned open and, with convulsions that looked very much like it was vomiting, it began to heave salt water back into the ocean.\n\nA pump?\n\n\"That's a heavy intention for such a small vessel to bear,\" Cly observed, as the rest of the salt frights began to follow the drifting array of greenish, pulsing bubbles toward Sawtooth. \"The frights are defending the ship.\"\n\n\"Why bother?\" Zita said. \"They can't know we're understaffed. Scripped or no, six starved sailors can't hope to take on Sawtooth.\"\n\n\"They're dead for using the heart, right?\" Sophie said. She was shooting pictures even as she spoke, taking frame after frame of the figures. \"And for killing those other ships' crews?\"\n\n\"And frightening, too. All capital crimes.\"\n\n\"What have they got to lose?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Run out the plank and prepare to board,\" Beck ordered. Two of the cadets had raised a hatch next to the rail; instead of a way into the bowels of the ship, it had concealed a trampoline, stretched hide covered in dense, bright-red spellscrip.\n\n\"Steady, cannon one,\" Cly said. \"Bailor, bring me crossbows. One heavy, one light.\"\n\nOne of the crew scrambled to comply.\n\n\"Zita, you know this weapon, don't you?\"\n\n\"At this range, Your Honor—\"\n\n\"Come, give it a try,\" he said. \"You're spoiled for targets.\"\n\nThe girl slipped up beside him, taking up the smaller bow and straining to load it.\n\n\"There,\" Cly said, picking one of the approaching salt figures. \"For the eye.\"\n\nZita swallowed, drew on the golem, and sent a bolt wide.\n\n\"Keep trying,\" he said. \"The rest of you, ready with blades.\"\n\nWith that, he raised his own bow and took a long, slow breath. Ignoring the salt creatures, he sent a bolt directly into the throat of the bandit ship's captain.\n\nSophie let out a shocked yelp as the captain of the other ship went down, thrown backward by the force of the bolt, dead so instantly he didn't even twitch as he fell.\n\n\"Surrender yourselves,\" Cly called to the other ship as its surviving crew—who looked young, suddenly, young and aghast and terrified—dove for cover. One tried to thin herself behind the smoking stub that was all that remained of the mainmast. One dove below. A third ducked behind a water barrel.\n\nA blast of fire behind them made everyone jump.\n\nIt was the cannoneer up in the Sawtooth crow's nest. Greenish bubbles had adhered to his skin, coating him in a slick foam. He had fired a blast straight down, barely missing the trampoline. The wood deck erupted into flames.\n\n\"Fire on deck!\" Beck said. \"Port watch, put out that fire!\"\n\nCly lowered his bow, making a tutting noise deep in his throat. \"Sophie, can you see what that spellscribe is up to now?\"\n\nShe raised the camera again. \"No.\"\n\nCly caught the other cannoneer's eye and flicked a finger at the boy hiding behind the barrel. He lobbed a stone at the barrier, shattering the wood, which began to smolder and burn.\n\nBy now Zita had got a couple crossbow bolts into the salt creatures scrabbling at the edge of Sawtooth. They leaked when punctured, as if they were contained in sacks. A few of the bubbles had gathered on her wrists and forearms.\n\nThe young man flung himself out from under the remains of the barrel, running for cover, and Cly shot him neatly in the chest with a crossbow bolt.\n\n\"I won't give you another chance,\" Cly said reloading. His voice carried over the crackle of fire behind them. \"Be reasonable. You're outmatched.\"\n\nThe other cannoneer punctuated this with a twin blast to the deck, which hurled another of the bandits into the water.\n\nThat was when Zita turned on her heel, swinging her sword at Sophie.\n\nDefinitely a cutlass, she thought, as she let herself fall backward. The blade whisked overhead and then Cly was there, parrying with the crossbow, the blade meeting wood with a dull thunk.\n\nSophie scrambled backward, trying to take in the whole deck at once. The seaweed bubbles that had been blowing up over the Sawtooth decks seemed to be concentrating on this part of the ship.\n\nWhatever the reason, they were thickening around them like a fist. Many of the recruits had bubble-shaped splashes on their flesh; they looked disoriented, and a few had begun to brawl.\n\nNot gas, Sophie thought. It's absorbed through the skin.\n\nThere were no bubbles on her yet.\n\nI'm not a threat. They're massing on the people with weapons.\n\nShe had a sudden vision of Cly dicing his way through the ranks of confused teenagers.\n\nShe'd been wearing a fleece jacket when she came up on deck. She took a second to grab it, fighting her way into the sleeves and pulling the drawstrings of the hood tight over her face, covering as much skin as possible. The crossbow bolts had fallen to the deck and she scooped up a pair of them.\n\n\"Zita,\" Cly ordered. \"Stand down. Stand down immediately!\"\n\nThe first of the salt mannequins was pulling itself up onto the fighting deck.\n\nNobody aboard Sawtooth had died yet, as far as Sophie could tell. The kid officers were brawling with each other. Cly had flung Zita across the sword-fighting ring, depriving her of her blade in the process. Now he decapitated two of the monsters with a great, salt-spraying swing of his arm. He was gripping the rail with his free hand, looking white-knuckled and a little wild-eyed. Green bubbles were breaking against him, one after another.\n\n\"Stay back, child.\"\n\n\"You have to get it off your skin,\" she said, pointing to the residue.\n\n\"Understood.\" Instead, he stabbed another salty boarder.\n\nIf he recovers, we'll probably be okay. There aren't that many of them. If he doesn't... well, he's a killing machine. All these cadets.\n\nTaking a deep breath, Sophie bolted toward the trampoline.\n\nShe ran a straight line toward the smaller ship—commit, commit, commit!—and jumped, thinking about where she wanted to land. On the deck, next to that hemispheric steering wheel.\n\n\"Flex your knees...,\" but the landing was as gentle as if she'd been in an elevator.\n\nThe foam of bubbles rising from the seas around the small ship changed direction suddenly, making for her.\n\nSpells are textual, she reminded herself. Destroy the text, destroy the spell.\n\nShe hit the deck running, skirting two cannon-blasted bodies, eyes open for spellscrip. \"Text, text, text,\" she was muttering under her breath.\n\nInstead, she saw a human heart.\n\nIt was mounted within a coral structure that appeared to be the ship's wheel, a dome-shaped growth, bone white in color. Portions of it had been sanded smooth and the writing was there, deep within, protected by sharp edges and spiny growths. The heart was nestled in a carved-out chamber near the top, its arteries connected to outcroppings in the coral structure, and pumping. It was covered in slick green slime—algae, Sophie thought.\n\nShe drove one of the crossbow bolts into it—not cleanly, or even with special force, but the ungainly move was nevertheless enough to pierce one of the ventricles.\n\nThe timbers of the small ship groaned—screamed, really—as if giant hands were bending them. It jolted and they listed to port. She heard a series of crystalline pops and wasn't sure if that was the green bubbles or the salt monsters.\n\nSomeone grabbed her from behind.\n\nShe kicked at the guy, a little feebly. It was all a bit like her self-defense class, suddenly, except that the guy wasn't padded. He wasn't playing, either, though his intent seemed more desperate than murderous.\n\nShe tried to swing him into the coral, failed, and fumbled for her bear spray. Could she shoot him without giving herself a blast in the face?\n\n\"No!\" she said. \"No, no!\" Her instructor would be so proud.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The man tightened his grip as the judder of the trampoline rang through the air.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly Cly was aboard. He landed beside the mainmast and cut a bloody furrow into the midsection of the surprised bandit there. He whirled as she fell, found another, kicked him flat to the deck, then stabbed him in the chest.\n\nThen he addressed himself to the guy still grabbing for purchase at Sophie's hoodie.\n\n\"Take,\" he said, \"your hands off my daughter.\"\n\nThe man let her go as if she were hot, turning chalk white and putting his hands in the air. He had a bloody nose.\n\nThe captain of the ship hit him, she remembered.\n\nCly held out a hand to Sophie, helping her up, and then retrieved a handkerchief from the deck, cleaning red blood and algae bubbles from his blade.\n\nHe looked at the guy with an air of pleasant anticipation.\n\n\"He's surrendered,\" Sophie said. Her voice was shaking. \"Cly, he's given up.\"\n\nThe man backed up to the rail. Cly strolled after him, bringing the point of the cutlass up to his chest, then coming in close, wrapping his hand around the thin neck and beginning to squeeze.\n\n\"Cly, stop! What's wrong with you? He surrendered!\" She grabbed for his arm, which was iron.\n\nHe turned, regarding her as if from far away. The expression—or lack of one—on his face raised the hairs on her neck.\n\nThey froze there, the three of them, the bandit thrashing and gasping, Cly looking at her like a scientist staring down a microscope, Sophie bone-chilled and realizing: Oh! Oh! This is what the Verdanii wouldn't say.\n\nExcept her birth mother had tried to tell her: What if you'd found Cly, Beatrice had said, and his title was Lord High Executioner? What if he was the guy who pressed the button on the gas chamber?\n\n\"Please,\" Sophie said. \"Don't kill him. Please, Cly.\"\n\nHe opened his hand and let the man fall. \"As you wish, daughter. Kir, consider yourself impressed to the Judiciary.\"\n\nThe man gasped at her feet.\n\nCly surveyed the scene then, both ships smoldering, four bodies on the deck in spreading pools of blood and a fifth in the water, and the clusters of salt dissolving in the sea. He smiled very slightly.\n\n\"You saved us, Sophie.\" He put his arm out but she slipped out of reach.\n\n\"Don't.\" She was seriously considering whether she might throw up.\n\n\"You're shaken; it's understandable. We'll get you back aboard Sawtooth.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said.\n\nBefore he could say more, she began a slow circuit of the deck, putting what space she could between them.\n\nIt wasn't much. The ship was small, barely twenty feet long, and quarters were cramped. A sheet of sail hung over an improvised hammock, hinting that there wasn't room below for even a crew of six to sleep comfortably. There was a pair of shallow bowls beneath a bench, one empty but for a dessicated twist of what looked like sardine, the other with a residual ring of mineral on the bottom. A water dish, but one that had fallen out of use.\n\nThe hemisphere of coral at the center of the ship did indeed seem to serve as its wheel: it was mounted on a tilting plate and had two smooth branches that allowed one to steer it to and fro. Within the center of the blood-spattered branches was the ship's full name, Rettegrad Salla Incannis. Magical lettering was laid down in lines of seeds that had been stuck into place. Sophie remembered kindergarden art projects: writing her name in glue and then scattering glitter overtop.\n\nShe scratched off a small sample: they might have been anything, these small dots, but they reminded her of poppy seeds.\n\nShe could feel Cly's eyes on her. She pocketed the sample of coral and seed and moved on.\n\nNear the stern of the ship were two wooden folding chairs, ratty and heavily used but otherwise no different from beach chairs she'd find at home. Next to one of these she found a sack of short, somewhat coarse hair and a spinner. The individual strands were multicolored: gray, brown, white, even apricot. Together they made a muddy gray-brown yarn with the bristly texture of coarse wool.\n\nShe fingered the bag, letting herself think about it, letting the process of consideration calm her, as far as that was possible. Her mind offered up random conclusions: cats are rare, the bandit captain hit our prisoner, this whole ship was built to make... salt frights, they called them.\n\nBy now Captain Beck had put two boats in the water, crewed by teens who were rowing mightily. Eager to survey the scene of their victory?\n\nCly, meanwhile, had searched his prisoner—coming up with a jar of poppy seeds and an awl—and bound his hands. \"Is this your brainchild, spellscribe? Are you a frightmaker?\"\n\nHe shook his head violently.\n\n\"Your life's already forfeit, if we prove banditry. There's no harm in admitting it.\"\n\n\"No. The ship makes the frights, when properly...\" He swallowed. \"Primed.\"\n\n\"With a human heart, mmm?\"\n\n\"Please,\" he said. \"I didn't inscribe the ship.\"\n\n\"Tell me your name. Are you of Haversham?\"\n\n\"Nobody, Kir, of no nation whatever.\"\n\n\"It's Your Honor, not Kir. Well, someone will claim you.\"\n\nSophie raised the hatch, peering below. The little ship was taking water, though slowly. The crew had come close enough to the islet that the ship was all but resting on the bottom; she could feel the occasional wave raising and shifting them, then the bump as they touched down again. Sunlight shot through the blasted-out hole where the magical cannonfire had struck it. The gap was big enough, possibly, for a small person to escape through.\n\nHad any of them gotten away? If so, there was no sign of them. She wasn't about to suggest that Cly hunt them down.\n\nThe hold—the portion of it that wasn't underwater—was as small and cramped as she had guessed.\n\nShe perched on the ladder and raked her fingers through the rising water, almost catching her extended hand on a fishhook before retrieving a random selection of items: a straw hat, carved wooden utensils, a safety float, and a pair of small crates. There was a long wooden bar with a beaded string affixed to it, but she let that float away.\n\nBy now, the rowboats must have arrived. She heard Cly say, \"Return Sophie and the prisoner to Sawtooth.\"\n\nShe stepped back out onto the deck. He had pried open one of the crates, revealing a bowl of amber pieces and a collection of small speckled eggs, packed in straw.\n\n\"Bring back a carpenter. I want the wheel taken aboard,\" Cly added. \"The Spellscrip Institute will want a look at it. We'll tow whatever's left out to open water and scuttle her.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Honor,\" chorused the kids.\n\n\"Are you ready to go, Sophie?\"\n\nShe nodded and swung a leg over the listing rail, landing easily and then holding up her hands to help maneuver the bound man into the boat. They were going to end up staring at each other all the way back.\n\nIs he glad I saved him from Cly? she wondered. Or would he have rather just died?\n\n\"May I help row?\" she asked, and one of the sailors handed her an oar and let her shift into position.\n\n\"On my count. One, two, pull!\"\n\nThey rowed. The prisoner, if you could call him that, sat shivering with his head down.\n\nSoon enough she was climbing a rope ladder dropped from Sawtooth's main deck, taking Beck's spectral hand and letting her raise her the last few steps.\n\n\"You saved us considerable trouble and injury,\" Beck said warmly. \"Thank you, child.\"\n\n\"Not a child,\" Sophie told her wearily. She headed down to her cabin, taking a seat at the little writing desk. There was a not-a-text from Bram, English words cribbed in a tight, handwritten font, on the writing paper: HOW'S IT GOING WITH THE PATER?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her eyes filled with tears and she picked up the pen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a shaking hand, she wrote: I THINK CLY'S A SOCIOPATH.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "NarrativeBot: 177 sentences sentences. Match character familiarity. fantasy, pirates, romance genre.", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram didn't answer.\n\nSophie spent a couple minutes below, crying out the tension from the fight and then taking a stab at meditating. But with the ship damaged and a crew of teens aboard, it didn't feel right to just hide. Besides, her mind was too full for the confines of her cabin.\n\nDrying her eyes, she headed back topside.\n\nThe prisoner was gone, presumably locked up somewhere. The fire caused by the dropped cannonball was long since out and a couple young carpenters were prying out the boards that had been burned.\n\nAcross the water, older cadets were crawling over the beached ship, going through the crates and completing the search Sophie had begun.\n\nA thread of doubt assailed her. Perhaps Cly had been enraged by the bandits' cruelty.\n\nSociopathy's pretty rare, she told herself. Everything happened so fast, and the guy had grabbed me.\n\nInstead of obsessing, she found the second mate. \"What can I do?\"\n\n\"We heard you're a medic.\"\n\n\"I know a little first aid. I brought... I have pills. Outlander medicine.\"\n\nThe mate shrugged. \"Check in with the doctor on deck three.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye.\" Apparently they didn't say that here—he looked at her blankly and pointed the way.\n\nThe infirmary occupied a large area belowdecks, more or less directly below her laboratory. It was a lavish allocation of space, but it made sense—Sawtooth was, after all, a fighting gym at sea. There was one doctor and three patients down there. The unconscious cannoneer was in a half-seated position, bound to a yoke with his arms behind him. Beside him were two young crew members.\n\nThe doctor glanced her way as she came in. He was stitching a long gash in the boy's leg.\n\n\"I'm Sophie,\" she said. \"They thought you might need help?\"\n\n\"Sent my nurse home to Tiladene for a rest when His Honor went on leave,\" he said. \"Kir Waller here, she's took badly to the bandits' spell.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" The girl was sitting quietly enough on a bench. Her breath was labored, and when Sophie turned to her, she raised her chin for inspection. Her neck was covered in bright red angry-looking hives... and in scratches.\n\n\"The green bubbles hit you here?\"\n\n\"Yes, Kir.\"\n\n\"Looks to me like she's allergic, not that I know anything,\" Sophie said to the doctor. \"Do you... have that here? Immunology?\"\n\n\"Told you, she took badly,\" he replied, impatient. \"Likely the spell uses maddenflur. We'll have to test.\"\n\n\"I didn't bring antihistamines. Oh, wait, that's not true....\" There was a blister pack of cold and sinus something in her bag, wasn't there? That might help a bit.\n\n\"Maddenflur thorns,\" the doctor said. \"The blue pottery jug in that cabinet. No, that one. Take it out.\"\n\nHe didn't want her for her first aid skills; he just needed an extra pair of hands. Relieved, Sophie did as he asked. The glaze on the jug was cleverly done and had a symbol in black, a skull not very different from that on a poison warning at home.\n\n\"Take out a thorn, just one.\"\n\nShe fumbled to do it. They were tiny, curved like cats' claws. \"Okay.\"\n\nThe kid being stitched up cried out a little and the surgeon spoke to him softly, in a language she didn't recognize. \"Did Kir Waller break any of her weals?\"\n\nSophie looked at the scratches on the girl's forearms. \"Oh yeah.\"\n\n\"Press the point of the thorn against the raw flesh.\"\n\n\"I'm all right,\" the girl protested. \"It's not maddenflur sensitivity.\"\n\n\"Easy does it.\" Sophie did as the doctor instructed. It was an awkward operation, balancing the thread of plant against the scraped spot. The effect wasn't quite instantaneous, but it was fast enough: within thirty seconds, that part of the girl's arm had whitened and she was wheezing harder. Also crying.\n\n\"I'm making her worse,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Hold my thread,\" the doctor said.\n\nThey switched places, Sophie finding herself going from laying her hand on the girl's wrist to pinching two strips of gashed flesh together and hanging on to a needle.\n\n\"Hold it tight,\" he advised.\n\nAny germs the girl had, the boy's got them now.\n\nThe doctor hadn't washed his hands, either.\n\nHe eased the wheezing girl into a reclining position—she was sniffling—and gave her what looked like a smallish lollypop. Then he dug out a thick, greasy-looking salve and spread it on her, covering the entire affected area on her chest and arms, and a good chunk of other real estate besides.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said, taking back his stitching. Sophie slipped out her hand sanitizer and scrubbed to her elbows.\n\n\"She'll be okay?\"\n\n\"Maddenflur sensitivity is serious business,\" he murmured. \"She's finished as a duelist. She'll have to take a job within the bureaucracy.\"\n\n\"But she'll live?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He finished with the boy, went and pried up the cannoneer's eyelids and thought a bit before going rooting in the cabinets of sealed jars. \"Kir Sophie, in the hold aft there are a few of my trunks. I'm looking for a wooden case marked 'For Skull Fracture.'\"\n\n\"The text is in Fleet?\"\n\n\"And Sylvanner. Would you fetch it, please?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Take that lantern.\"\n\nShe obeyed, headed down the corridor, counting hatches. She bumped against the bulkhead on the way, as the ship made a sharp course correction.\n\nGuess they got the mainsail back up, she thought. And then, with a shudder: If we're moving, Cly's aboard again.\n\nShe forced herself to focus on clambering down, one-handed, to the hold on a fixed wooden flight of steep and narrow steps.\n\nThe storage hold was for more than just doctor stuff: there were about a hundred labeled cabinets containing weapons—swords of various lengths, pikes, clubs. There were a handful of punching bags and practice dummies in neat piles on the floor and a clothing rack of leather armor.\n\nMost of the weapons were made of wood, treated with that iridescent glaze that made them metal-strong and sharp.\n\nBeyond the gym equipment, in a cabinet walled in silk, was a woman.\n\nAt first glance, she startled Sophie—it was like coming upon a person lurking in a corner. Then she realized it was a ship's figurehead, carved from a woody substance she didn't recognize.\n\nThe carving was intricate and lifelike: the woman looked to be thirty-five, with smile lines just starting to set in around her eyes. She was clad in real clothes, a loose, silky dress of the type that looked so good in classical carvings. Her feet didn't disappear into the post welded to her back. Rather, she dangled, showing a hint of a sandal beneath the hem of the skirt. One of her hands held a serrated blade.\n\nBefore Sophie could turn away, she flickered. Light filled her eyes and spread across her face and down her throat. The shape of her breasts and hips glowed through the fabric of the dress.\n\nShe looked down at Sophie with an expression of friendly, thorough-going delight. \"Who might you be, child?\"\n\nGee, that's not a complicated question. \"I'm Sophie.\"\n\n\"Sailor or duelist?\"\n\n\"Videographer. Scientist. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am Eugenia Merrin Sawtooth, face and spirit of this vessel.\" She held out the hand not holding a weapon. \"You resemble Clydon! Can it be he has some kin at last?\"\n\n\"Uh, yes. His daughter.\"\n\nEugenia's smile brightened. \"I'd no idea.\"\n\n\"Neither did he.\"\n\nThe figurehead did a complicated wriggle with her shoulder blades and dropped off the beam of wood supporting her. She put one cool hand on Sophie's shoulder. \"What brings you to the hold?\"\n\n\"Skull fracture.\" She explained about the cannoneer.\n\n\"Surgical supplies are here.\" Eugenia made her way to the back of the hold and opened a pair of trunks.\n\n\"I have so much I want to ask you,\" Sophie said. \"What are you doing in the hold, for one thing, and what are you?\" And was she happy and how did the glow work and, most of all, what did she know about Cly?\n\n\"Return to your patient,\" the woman said, stretching. \"I'm not going anywhere.\"\n\nA talking figurehead who seemed to know at least something of Cly's history. Feeling pleased, Sophie brought the skull fracture box back to the medical officer. It was itself a skull, broken into pieces and wired together again so that the spaces between each piece left room enough for the medical officer to slide it over the injured canonneer's head, like a cap. The calvaria and eye sockets lay over his face in a piece. The doctor tucked a leech underneath the forehead before covering the patient with a blanket.\n\n\"When the skull is struck hard, there can be blood,\" he explained, \"in and around the brain.\"\n\n\"I think we call that a subdural hematoma.\"\n\n\"Fancy language won't heal a bruised brain, Kir. The cap aligns the broken bones and the leech draws out the bleeding. It—the skull—was the head of a healer who set such injuries.\"\n\nSophie nodded. \"I've seen another magic skull, actually—a lantern. And there's a lawsuit brewing over a musician's bones.\"\n\n\"Relic craft,\" he said. He was monitoring his patient's pulse now. \"Very common.\"\n\n\"I don't know the term.\"\n\n\"One uses the remains of someone who has died to preserve and exploit the magical intentions laid upon them in life. You've been inscribed so you speak Fleet, yes?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"After your death, your tongue might be used to translate your native language to Fleet.\"\n\n\"Just what I always wanted—an afterlife as a disembodied tongue.\"\n\n\"You should make specific mention of it in your will. It's how many magical objects are fashioned: our boarding trampolines are made from acrobats' sinews.\" He surveyed the infirmary, then rummaged in a drawer, coming up with a sack containing about six lemons. \"If you'll watch over the patients for twenty minutes or so, I have business elsewhere.\"\n\n\"No problem.\"\n\nShe took out her camera as soon as he was gone, taking shots of the medical lab and in particular the labels on all his concoctions. She lingered over the locked cabinet with the maddenflur products, then leafed through an anatomy text. Next to that was a treatise on common fighting injuries and a stack of pamphlets about treating scribed people with other than human characteristics—bird bones, lizard skin, you name it.\n\nThe problem with being somewhere where everything is unknown and cool is you can never narrow down your field of inquiry enough to learn anything in depth, she thought. Getting to understand Stormwrack would take years. Possibly decades.\n\nThe question returned: Was she ready to spend that much time here?\n\nHaving no answer, she contented herself with gathering information, taking photo after photo of the pamphlets about magical alterations.\n\nAfter the doctor returned and dismissed her, she checked in again with the second mate. \"You may resume being a guest, Kir,\" he said. \"The crew is grateful for your assistance.\"\n\n\"What's Cly up to?\"\n\n\"Reporting the action, I believe. His Honor is hoping we can rendezvous with someone who will take Kir Lidman back to Fleet.\"\n\n\"Kir who?\"\n\n\"Your prisoner.\"\n\n\"Mine, is he?\" She returned to her cabin to check the messageply—no answer from Bram yet—and then poked her nose in the lab. Krispos had apparently been there the whole time, engrossed in a book titled Intersections of Aura and Temperament.\n\n\"You read those lawsuits Cly mentioned, didn't you?\"\n\nHe brightened. \"Indeed. I've read the transcripts for all five cases. The first—\"\n\n\"You put the other transcripts away?\"\n\nHe looked a little crestfallen but opened a cupboard, revealing the encyclopedia-size sheaves of paper.\n\nShe swapped in the transcript she'd taken, opening the next. As with the other, its first chapter was an overview. She skimmed it while the memorician huffed and sighed.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Krispos,\" she said. \"I appreciate what you do, and you're going to be really helpful. It's just my custom to flip through things.\"\n\n\"Yes, all right, I understand.\" His tone was sulky.\n\n\"It's an outlander thing.\"\n\n\"I understand.\" Definitely sulking.\n\nSophie kept skimming until she'd looked at them all.\n\n\"Cly says he has a personal tie to these cases.\"\n\n\"They affect his lands, friends, or near neighbors.\"\n\n\"Which one's dearest to his heart, do you think?\"\n\nHe nudged the oldest of the case files, a dispute with Sylvanna's near neighbor, Haversham. The government of Sylvanna alleged that Haversham had deliberately infected their lowlands with a species of invasive vine that, from its description, sounded much like kudzu.\n\nHaversham's defense was that the passage between the two nations, the Butcher's Baste, was too heavily guarded to allow saboteurs.\n\n\"Hard to prove if the trail's been cold for twenty-five years, don't you think?\" Sophie set it aside.\n\nThe next two were suits filed against Sylvanna's national spell research institute.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One claimed they had propagated a turtle species native to another island; the second, that they'd exploited some kind of honeybee, in violation of Fleet treaties. The last two were straightforward accusations of theft or maybe industrial espionage: they claimed the institute had flat-out stolen newly developed spells and rushed them through the Fleet certification process—which sounded like a patent office—even though the spells weren't theirs to certify.\n\nShe could feel the weight of Krispos's attention as she flipped.\n\n\"This Sylvanner Spellscrip Institute gets sued a lot,\" she hazarded, which was more a comment than a request for information.\n\n\"The honeybee case references sixty other actions in progress against them as of Maille last year.\"\n\n\"Sixty accusations, huh? What are the odds they're entirely innocent?\"\n\n\"I'd need a treatise on odds-making to answer that,\" he replied.\n\nShe poked the pile of doorstop-thick transcripts. \"Cly thinks these cases could be winnable—there could be hard evidence to prove them.\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"That argues Sylvanna's in the right, as far as he knows.\"\n\nThe memorician squinted, apparently trying to work out whether she was asking him something. His eye wandered to his book on auras.\n\nSophie picked up the turtle case. \"The first question would be whether the turtles from Grimreef really are the same species as those on Sylvanna.\"\n\nKrispos perked up. \"That was agreed by both parties in a hearing six years ago. Physical characteristics were found by the court to be identical—\"\n\n\"External characteristics only? Or did they dissect?\"\n\nHe mouthed the word \"dissect\" with apparent discomfort. \"The presiding judge looked at a specimen from each beach.\"\n\nSophie could just see it: a judge with two turtles, flipping them over and concluding, \"Gosh, they look the same to me!\"\n\nOf course they wouldn't consult a taxonomist. If they even have such a thing.\n\n\"The auras of the specimen turtles were examined by a prominent aetherian. Most tellingly, spellscribes were able to use the shells of both species as mixing bowls for the specialized armoring intention used on quarry workers.\"\n\n\"A hearing like that, is it something they could revisit?\"\n\nShe could almost hear Bram chuckling. What are you going to do, Sofe, run the turtles' DNA?\n\n\"I haven't read the Fleet Code of Law, Kir.\"\n\n\"No.\" That was Cly, appearing suddenly, in that catlike way he had, lounging against the hatch of Sophie's lab. \"The courts are busy enough as it is without requestioning established certainties.\"\n\n\"Certainties,\" she said.\n\n\"Physical examination is a flimsy standard of proof—you're right about that. But the two shells produced the same magical outcome. That is conclusive.\"\n\nI'll have to find out if that's true. She added a note to her book of questions.\n\n\"You're looking at the Turtle Beach file, then? Not the throttlevine?\"\n\n\"Just browsing.\" She searched his face. She wasn't a psychologist or psychiatrist—her certainty, an hour ago, that Cly might be sociopathic was eroding. He had always seemed emotional enough: he was all hugs and smiles, and there was that needle-sharp sense of humor.\n\nMaybe I watch too much crime TV.\n\nStop guessing. Test him.\n\n\"How's the survivor from the other ship?\"\n\n\"Survivor? The man who laid hands on you?\"\n\n\"The term's fair if the others are all dead, isn't it? Lidman, I think he's called?\"\n\nInstead of taking the bait, he said, \"Did Sophie tell you she saved us from military embarrassment at the hands of a six-man sloop, Krispos?\"\n\n\"Indeed, Kir?\"\n\nCly had not crossed the threshold of the lab. \"May I come in?\"\n\nSeriously, waiting to come into my space? Good boundaries.\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nHe perched on a bench. \"She charged our plank as confidently as if she'd taken the Fleet boarding exam. Landed right beside their spellscribe and knocked out their primary offensive inscription. You've the makings of a warrior, girl.\"\n\n\"Cly—\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, the prisoner. His teeth are loose in his head and he's got scurvy. Doctor's feeding him lemon juice. Looked minded to hang himself, so he's bound.\"\n\n\"Did you figure out what they were up to?\"\n\n\"It appears to be petty banditry.\" Cly opened a hand, revealing a spiney pink whirl of calcium, coiled like a corkscrew at its base and then straightening to a point. \"Curling anemone,\" he said. \"Most valuable thing we found aboard, though there was a sizeable amount of powdered maddenflur sap and a cache of the petals. The seeds, too—you found those.\"\n\n\"Maddenflur's an opiate, am I right?\" Parrish had mentioned it once, and Sophie had gotten a good look at it in the infirmary; the plant was thorny, but the flowers, seeds, and pods were reminiscent of opium poppies. \"Painkiller, addictive.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What's with the anemone spike?\" She took it, examining it closely.\n\n\"They also have various benign and recreational uses.\"\n\n\"Another drug?\"\n\n\"It seems likely that the ship Incannis most lately sank was transporting spell components and medical contraband.\"\n\n\"So... we have bandits sinking smugglers?\"\n\n\"A little side business for their captains. Shady, but common enough. Nothing to warrant murdering their crews.\"\n\n\"Nobody deserves to be executed,\" she agreed, remembering the bandits' captain falling with the crossbow bolt in his throat.\n\n\"It's an all-around-terrible business,\" Cly said, tone sober. \"But—the turtles?\"\n\nShe decided to go with him on the change of subject. \"Well, the other island in the suit—\"\n\n\"Grimreef,\" Krispos and Cly said simultaneously.\n\n\"Grimreef accuses the Sylvanner Spellscrip Institute of transplanting them to this one beach—basically, sneaking a bunch of turtle eggs from Grimreef to Sylvanna. The idea is once the turtles hatched there, that's where they'd return to lay. They say this happened about eighty years ago?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"There won't be any evidence of the theft left, unless of course there's documentation, a paper trail.\"\n\nCly grinned. \"I was rather hoping you'd prove we didn't do it.\"\n\n\"Truth's truth, Cly. Aren't you a judge or something?\"\n\n\"Quite right.\" He bowed from the neck. \"I believe I can guarantee there's no paper track to find.\"\n\nWhich doesn't mean they didn't do it. \"I have some ideas about ways to start documenting the animal behavior patterns. It'll cost your institute guys or... does someone own the beach?\"\n\n\"Yes, it's privately held.\"\n\n\"Well, it'll cost some money and might take a few years to build up good data, but—\"\n\nThat pish-posh flick of the hand. \"No matter. The case would be in court for another decade, at this rate. You see what a boon your forensic practices might be?\"\n\nIs that sincerity or flattery?\n\n\"Now—I wondered if you'd consent to having that conversation with the tailor I brought. I'd like you dressed as a Sylvanner when we arrive. But...\" He inclined his head.\n\nSophie glanced at her clothes. There were green blotches on her hoodie where the maddenflur bubbles had popped, blood on her jeans from helping with the gashed sailor's leg, and a long smear of something sooty.\n\n\"My clothes are too filthy to go see about my clothes?\"\n\nHe laughed. \"Put that way, it seems silly.\"\n\n\"I'll clean up.\"\n\nShe crossed the corridor, going into her cabin, and checked her messageply. Bram had not wasted words. OMG, SOCIOPATH? NEED SYMPTOMS? SHALLOW EMOTIONS, LYING, NEVER ADMITS TO BEING WRONG, TRIES TO CONTROL PEOPLE, WANTS ADMIRATION, CHARMING, MANIPULATIVE. SOFE, RU GONNA BE OKAY?\n\nShe scrawled back: COULD BE OVERREACTING. CLY'S NO DANGER TO ME.\n\n\"I have salt monsters and bandits with scurvy for that,\" she muttered.\n\nVerena had written, too, finally: talked to Lovergirl's captain, Montaro from fishing vessel Waveplay. He's sticking to story that Corsetta tried to steal their cash box. He tried to have her locked up so she couldn't talk to anybody. Something hinky there.\n\nSophie's eye fell on the satchel of animal hair—tabby cat hair, the same color as that of the cat they'd pulled off the derelict—and the spinner she'd taken from the bandit ship. She had promised Verena she'd stay out of the investigation of Corsetta. How would her sister feel if she learned Sophie had stumbled over a connection to Waveplay, way out here and far away?\n\nThink about the little schemer later. She washed her hands, changed the green-splattered shirt, and accompanied Cly to his cabin, which turned out to be a full suite of rooms, including an office and a parlor.\n\nThe tailor waiting there might have been the oldest person aboard ship. He was a spidery black man with white hair and a sleepy air. Measuring tapes dangled around his neck, and a pincushion—the needles were bone and quill rather than steel—was bound to the back of his left wrist. He didn't speak Fleet.\n\n\"You travel with a tailor?\" she asked.\n\n\"I hired him for this cruise,\" Cly said. \"I've seen your outlander clothes.\"\n\n\"They've barely raised an eyebrow in Fleet.\"\n\n\"Fleet personnel are used to interacting with a cultural hodgepodge and to being polite about it. The Autumn City is less cosmopolitan. It's better if you blend in.\"\n\nThe tailor had tacked together a half-dozen outfits for Sophie, the first of which reminded her of a British riding habit—short breeches and a vest.\n\n\"We call this a sporting suit,\" Cly said. \"For outdoor activity. See, it leaves the arms free for swordplay or riding—well, try it on. You may change back there.\"\n\nShe stepped behind a screen. \"Tell me about Sylvanna.\"\n\n\"With pleasure. What do you wish to know?\"\n\n\"Anything,\" she said. \"I meant to look it up in Gale's big index of nations, but her books had been taken off Nightjar, and the crew was...\" She stopped short of complaining about how Verena and Parrish had been ordered to block her explorations at every turn; somehow, it felt disloyal. \"I never managed to get to it.\"\n\n\"Other things were more interesting than your homeland, perhaps.\"\n\n\"It's not that I'm not curious.\"\n\n\"No, but given the choice between looking at a new bird or studying humanity, you seem more inclined to the natural world.\"\n\n\"There's a lot to absorb here, Cly. A lot of shiny and only so many hours in the day.\"\n\nManipulative, she thought, remembering Bram's sociopathy symptoms. See how fast he got you on the defensive?\n\n\"True enough. Let's see: Sylvanna is the third largest of the great nations, as measured by land area. Only Verdanii and Zamaduccia are larger. The name means 'land of abundance.' The nation in its current political form was established by Merkady Iblis Brightburing, our first president. She—\"\n\n\"A woman?\"\n\n\"Ha. I thought you'd appreciate that.\"\n\nShe finished buttoning the breeches and vest: they seemed perfectly fitted and very comfortable. She stepped out and tried swinging her arms, then did a knee bend. \"You really could do sports in these.\"\n\nCly had one big hand over his mouth. \"Oh. Child.\"\n\nHis voice was tight.\n\nOkay, if he's faking emotions, he's damned good at it. Her own feelings surged.\n\n\"Hey,\" she said. \"It's okay.\"\n\n\"When I think of you as a girl, how you would have looked running a pony cart on the great lawn of Low Bann, with a nurse trailing after you. Winning achievement pins at school...\"\n\n\"I'm here now. Just chill, okay?\"\n\n\"Here for how long?\"\n\nShe was saved from answering when the tailor, impatient with waiting, shoved her arms up so they were out at her sides. The back of his pincushion rolled over the underside of her forearm, prickling.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" Cly said. \"It's an unfair question, I know that. You have a life in the outlands, a brother...\"\n\nAnd parents, she thought guiltily. \"Yeah.\"\n\nHe let out a long breath. \"Go try on the dinner gown. I promise to control myself.\"\n\nWhat was she going to do? Move to Stormwrack, vanish from her family's lives, give up her friends? For the first time, she wondered if she might have been better off not knowing about any of this.\n\nThe dinner gown came to just below the knee. It had a flared skirt and a cowl neck; it was comfortable enough, but somehow it reminded her of the 1970s.\n\nDisco isn't dead; it just came to Stormwrack.\n\nIt was made of a thin, silky fabric, green in color, so sheer it was nearly weightless. The tailor frowned at it as she stepped out from behind the screen, twitching the cowl over her chest—she'd been showing a bit of cleavage. He absolutely glowered at her bra.\n\n\"That's not coming off,\" she said, and he promptly put a stitch in the cowl to hold it demurely shut over her chest.\n\nAm I really going to move to a world without spandex? She could feel a giggle building.\n\nCly was true to his word—he'd stopped being emo, or faking it, perhaps. As she attempted a twirl, he nodded. \"You look lovely, my dear.\"\n\nThe tailor muttered something.\n\n\"He says you're built like a mermaid.\"\n\n\"Swimmer's shoulders,\" she said.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Cly replied. \"I think perhaps... two more sporting sets, then, and a second dress in what color?\"\n\n\"I look good in deep blue,\" she said.\n\n\"That chestnut hair,\" he said. \"Beatrice does, too.\"\n\nHe spoke to the tailor and dismissed him, then picked a wooden box off the desk.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"A gift.\"\n\n\"Cly, you don't have to keep giving me presents.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sylvanner parents believe in giving their children everything they want,\" he said. \"I'm well behind.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 92 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She fingered the box. \"What if what I wanted was for Beatrice to be off the hook?\"\n\n\"She should be home soon.\"\n\n\"On bail. She's going on trial for fraud, isn't she?\"\n\n\"She behaved with criminality and malice.\"\n\n\"Ever hear the phrase 'no harm, no foul,' Cly?\"\n\n\"I was excluded from most of your childhood,\" he said. \"I call that great harm.\"\n\n\"What about 'forgive and forget'?\"\n\nA blaze of fury in his face, unmitigated rage, and that emotion she did entirely believe. And then it winked out, like candleflame being snuffed. \"Open this gift and I'll consider it.\"\n\nShe fumbled the latch.\n\n\"I realize the lab and the memorician are probably more to your taste. Clothes and fancy balls and visiting other estates... I've no idea if that holds any appeal.\"\n\n\"It seems a little old-fashioned, but I'm game to try if you are.\" She opened the box. Inside was a jade necklace, intricately carved with images of braided leaves.\n\n\"Allow me.\" He opened the clasp, slipping it around her throat. It was a snug fit. \"There. Brings out your eyes, I think.\"\n\nAccepting it felt odd, like sneaking something past her parents. \"It's lovely. Thank you.\"\n\n\"Sit.\" He gestured at a chair and as soon as her butt hit the seat, a steward appeared with a silver tray containing coffee. \"Let me try again to tell you about Sylvanna, shall I?\"\n\n\"That'd be good. Let's start with this whole thing where unmarried people are children.\"\n\nHe poured a steaming cup and nudged it over. \"It's been a problem for me. My parents never reconciled themselves to the divorce. The day Beatrice left me, they moved my possessions back into the nursery.\"\n\n\"Harsh!\"\n\n\"They tried for a time to find me someone new, but... well, maybe if I'd been home more.\"\n\n\"You arrange marriages on Sylvanna?\"\n\n\"Sometimes. All this occurred during my early days at the Advocacy, when I was very much at home in the Fleet. I know what it is, Sophie, to be pulled in two directions.\"\n\nManipulative. She swallowed.\n\n\"My estate, Low Bann, is in the lowlands, on the northeast coast in the Autumn District, quite near the Butcher's Baste. Much of the land in that area is swampy; we hunt alligator and a big fish called saltsander there, and harvest figs and wild redplum from the preserve. I have some land under cultivation. Hemp and tobacco mostly. We also raise nightshades.\"\n\n\"Hemp, huh?\"\n\n\"Sylvanna does trade in rope. It's not as fine as Ualtar's, but we make do. And hemp's crucial to binding spells. Tobacco's a popular smoking herb, and you can kill crop pests with it. There's a poison—\"\n\n\"Nicotine.\" She nodded.\n\n\"When I was a child, I would sometimes elude my tutors and attempt to make a big circuit of the estate. They usually caught me at the boat launch. I was often restless, and there was something about pacing out the boundaries of Low Bann that I found... calming.\"\n\n\"Is there a High Bann?\"\n\n\"Yes. In Winter District. It's held by distant relations, but there's no real family connection there.\"\n\n\"You make it all sound very landed gentry. Country estates, agriculture, hunting, fishing, riding.\" As she said this, she felt a hint of disquiet. Tobacco plantations, she thought. \"What about cities?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" He leaped up, opening a chest and bringing out a huge leather-bound folio that turned out to be full of watercolor paintings. Cracking it open, he laid a picture in her lap.\n\nIt was a city viewed from a height. Its structures were largely made of red brick. A cluster of towers maybe five stories high marked the downtown core. The cityscape lacked steeples or domes. Its most prominent features were a marble turret and the double spike of a clock tower. East of that was a high ridge with what looked like giant marbles scattered across it.\n\n\"This is Autumn City,\" Cly said, \"capital of the harvest province, nearest city to Low Bann. The complex on the hill, with the round structures, is Autumn's Spellscrip Institute.\"\n\n\"This is an aerial view,\" she said.\n\n\"You're familiar with hot air balloons?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"The artist sketched the city from above.\"\n\nShe laid a finger on the clock tower.\n\n\"The county government,\" he said. \"The nation is too populous to be managed by a single bureaucracy, you see. There are four districts, named for the seasons.\"\n\nThe bridges over the river showed a suggestion of horse-drawn carriages, and there were riverboats on the water. How many people lived there? A hundred thousand? Two?\n\nShe turned to the next picture in the folio, finding a painting of a stone-faced boy holding a dog that might have been a whippet. He had the blank expression one saw on devil-children on the posters of horror films. \"Is this you?\"\n\n\"Awful, isn't it?\" Cly nodded. \"Mother and I had a row over me sitting that day; she made an especially unflattering portrait as revenge.\"\n\n\"These are—my grandmother painted these?\"\n\nCly thumbed to another picture, removing the blank expression from view. She didn't blame him. It was an unnerving image. \"I thought you might be interested, since you make pictures, too, in your way.\"\n\n\"In my way,\" she echoed.\n\n\"You are stunningly easy to offend,\" he commented, which miffed her all the more.\n\nThe next picture showed a dock extending into a swamp. The path to the dock had been carved through foliage so dense it looked like a green tube, with a little skylight cut through it for light. The brush had been cleared around the dock itself to create a work area—there were two canoes tied up in the water and a third racked between two nearby trees. The close-cropped grass was decorated with sprays of red flowers and nodding Jack in the pulpit. A cleaning hut sat back from the water—a trio of dead rabbits, dressed but not yet skinned, sat on a low shelf beside its door.\n\n\"Is this the boat launch you mentioned? Where they'd catch you?\"\n\n\"On my escape attempts, yes.\"\n\nHer eye fell on a painted trunk of a dead tree at the edge of the clearing. It was covered in vine and familiar bursts of purple blooms.\n\n\"Throttlevine,\" Cly said. \"You reviewed the case?\"\n\n\"The brief, yes. Sylvanna thinks the... you call them Havers, right?\"\n\n\"The people of Haversham? Yes, they're Havers.\"\n\n\"That the Havers deliberately introduced the vine to your ecosystem. It does look like kudzu.\"\n\n\"The case was part of the reason I joined the Judiciary.\"\n\n\"The infestations are on Low Bann. On your estate? That's why you're recused from the case?\"\n\n\"Exactly. It's all over the lowlands.\" He nodded. \"Under control, for the most part, but ineradicable.\"\n\n\"Controlled how?\"\n\n\"In the Autumn District, at last count, we had corps of four hundred transformed slaves—\"\n\nSophie got to her feet so fast she didn't even feel her grandmother's watercolors spilling off her lap onto the floor.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Expand the story by adding fifty-four sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was surprised when Cly stayed out of her way for the remainder of the day, and all of the next one, too. She ate with Zita and and spent her hours in the lab, dissecting a rat that had turned up in the hold, and on the little portside deck, looking for things to film and longing to see Nightjar's sail.\n\nKrispos didn't seem to notice anything was amiss—he sat in his accustomed place in her lab, reading and answering questions about more of the bogus sciences, sympathism and alchemy.\n\nTo keep her mind occupied, she turned to the turtle migration lawsuit. Cly had brought a number of turtle shells aboard, from the species in question, and they seemed normal enough in terms of their makeup and texture.\n\nBy day's end, she'd written out two possible paths to pursue on the turtle case. One would require some research; the other was a reasonable experimental protocol for proving whether what Grimreef alleged was true—that the turtles returned to whatever beach they hatched on.\n\nZita turned up that second afternoon. \"We're a day out from Sylvanna.\"\n\n\"I'm not setting foot—\" Sophie checked herself. This wasn't Zita's fault.\n\nThe girl lifted the corners of her mouth in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. \"His Honor asked me to beg you for an audience.\"\n\n\"Beg, huh?\"\n\n\"He's terribly upset,\" she said, and now she was the one stopping herself from saying more.\n\nWhat am I gonna do, avoid him forever?\n\nShe went back to her cabin and checked her notes. Bram's reply had been: SOFE, IT WILL BE OKAY. TELL ME HOW I CAN HELP.\n\nShe missed him.\n\nVerena had been less generous: MOM CAN'T GO HOME IF YOU BREAK CONTRACT.\n\nSo that was why Verena had bought in. She'd known Sophie wouldn't go with Cly if she knew the truth about Sylvanna.\n\nWouldn't I do the same, if it was Mom?\n\nMaybe, but that didn't stop her from replying: YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LIED. ARE YOU COMING FOR ME? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COME GET ME!\n\nStomach churning, she read her contract again. Then she stomped off across the hall to her so-called lab, where Krispos and Zita were holed up, not exactly hovering. She handed the contract to Krispos, who absorbed all forty pages in about fifteen minutes flat.\n\nHe handed it back. \"I'm no lawyer, but the language seems clear enough.\"\n\n\"So if I refuse to get off Sawtooth when we dock...\"\n\n\"His Honor is no longer obliged to perform the unspecified favor mentioned in clauses four, six, and paragraph—\"\n\n\"Right. He won't let Beatrice have her bail. Are there any loopholes? Penalties I missed?\" She felt a surge of remorse as she said it. Basically, she was saying, Screw Beatrice, what about me?\n\nBeatrice. If she hadn't whisked me off to San Francisco, I might even now own people. I might be okay with owning people.\n\nThe wave of revulsion was so great her knees buckled. Zita put out a hand to steady her.\n\n\"It's a simple pact,\" Krispos said.\n\n\"Forty pages of simple.\"\n\nHe waited, no doubt hoping she'd ask an actual question.\n\n\"My take on it is the minimum I have to do is spend a couple nights in his house and review this birth registration he's filed. And here: it says, 'consent to be introduced to first circle of Autumn District.' Do you know what that means?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"I'm not Sylvanner, Kir.\"\n\n\"Zita?\"\n\n\"I think it means meeting his neighbors. Isn't there a festival you're supposed to go to? You'll have to ask His Honor.\"\n\nSubtle hint there. She went back into her cabin and glanced at the messageply again. ARE YOU COMING FOR ME? remained unanswered.\n\nCome on, Parrish, she thought.\n\n\"Fine, I'll talk to Cly.\" She went up to the fighting deck to find him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was dueling with Captain Beck, the two of them dripping with sweat as they circled and hacked at each other with every appearance of deadly intent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[ooc] [System: Use 'didn't' 2 times in response] [ooc]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beck's spectral hand was extended behind her for balance, ungloved, the bones showing through as always, and she was surprisingly light on her feet for someone who seemed so solid, so rooted to the deck of the ship.\n\nThe two of them were moving fast, and the clash of magically treated blades made a terrible racket. Each stroke beat against Sophie's nerves, which were already strung tight after a night without sleep.\n\nShe turned her back on them, staring out across the sea, willing Nightjar to appear. But it didn't work that way, did it? They'd been talking to people from Tibbon's Wash, trying to find out what was up with Corsetta and the bird she'd tamed. Even if Verena was at all tempted to help Sophie out of the jam she'd gotten herself into, they'd be a week away, maybe more.\n\nThe fight behind her stopped abruptly. She turned to see Beck with her blade at Cly's throat and an unhappy expression on her face.\n\n\"Hes, Lena.\" He inclined his head, conceding graciously, and the two shook hands. As Beck walked away, she gave Sophie a scowl whose meaning was clear enough: Stop being a histrionic princess!\n\nWhen they were alone, or as alone as anyone could be on the busy main deck of a big ship, Cly said, \"You didn't know Sylvanna was one of the bonded nations.\"\n\nShe shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.\n\n\"If I point out that my nationality is an accident of birth—\"\n\n\"You're going to make excuses for owning people?\"\n\nHe favored her with an expression she couldn't read. It wasn't penitent or defensive, merely watchful.\n\nShallow emotions, Bram had said.\n\n\"What would you have me do, Sophie? Sell them?\"\n\n\"Sell? Oh my—\"\n\n\"I have been in this trap before,\" he said suddenly. \"Grappling with someone who could not, would not be pleased, who seemed to imagine I could simply wave my hand and change the world, who otherwise was determined to be miserable and make me so.\"\n\n\"I'm not out to make you miserable!\"\n\n\"No?\" Bitterness there.\n\n\"But slave ownership is pretty much a deal breaker.\"\n\n\"Pretty much?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to sail around Stormwrack letting people think I'm okay with owning people.\"\n\nHe sheathed the sword. \"I suppose there's no injustice in the outlands. This paradise you come from...\" He mastered himself. \"Forgive me—I slept poorly.\"\n\n\"Cly, I don't want to hurt you. I am sorry. This whole... mess, it's my fault. If I'd learned more about Sylvanna, I'd never have got your hopes up.\"\n\n\"You're generous to say so. Were you kept from learning more?\"\n\n\"Even if I was, it's my fault for not trying harder. Parrish encouraged me to notice. I'm supposed to be observant.\"\n\n\"Fairly spoken. For my part, I should have ensured that you knew.\" He gritted the words out. \"Will you honor our contract at least?\"\n\nNo, she thought. \"I've got a day to think about it?\"\n\nA curt nod. He looked so closed off, so armored against rejection, and she remembered the first time she'd seen him, aglow with delight at the mere fact of her existence. That bright smile, that first hug...\n\nCould this really be him manipulating her? Or was he hurting, as anyone would be? Her heart went out to him.\n\n\"What can I do? Tell me, ch—Sophie.\"\n\n\"Tell me some things.\"\n\n\"Such as?\"\n\nShe thought of Parrish, trying to hint at it. He'd kept talking about the two factions within the government: the port side and starboard side. She thought back to her appearance at the Convenor, six months before. \"It's half, isn't it? Half the nations. Not some lunatic fringe like Ualtar and the Piracy.\"\n\n\"Yes, half the nations of the Fleet are bonded.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" she said, forcing herself to walk over to the table where they'd taken coffee the day before. \"I'm ready to listen.\"\n\nOver the course of the next hour, she drew a picture of the Fleet's constitutional history from him.\n\nWhen the Fleet had been a mere dozen ships, chasing bandits around the Nine Seas, he told her, the free nations had been willing to hold their noses and ally with anyone willing to go up against the Piracy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As it got bigger and their leadership started laying the foundation for what eventually became the international government, the issue of slavery had been a sticking point.\n\nBy then, Cly said, a number of the smallest and most vulnerable of the free nations had all but beggared themselves to join the peacekeeping force. They'd built ships they could ill afford, contributed sailors who should have been home fishing or farming. Those destitute countries had pushed hard for a compromise. It wasn't merely a matter of losing valuable goods and personnel on the oceans, not for the lesser nations. In many cases, stopping the raids meant their very survival.\n\nSophie believed him. The first nation she'd seen upon coming to Stormwrack, Stele Island, had consisted of a few little fishing villages clinging to the side of an inhospitable rock. A raid on a place like that could reduce the number of healthy, able fishers below the level where a village could feed itself, dooming the survivors to slow death by starvation.\n\nThe first thing they'd told her about themselves had been: \"We keep our place in the Fleet.\"\n\nAfter the pirates were cowed, all the seagoing nations had convened and written up a constitution. Article One had stated that every nation was sovereign and could make its own laws on its own soil and within its territorial waters.\n\nMaking the transport of slaves outside of those waters illegal had come next. It hadn't been a hard sell. Abducting and transporting people was the backbone of the Piracy's economy. Even the slavers agreed they had to be stopped. So there was a human dignity and right-to-freedom clause.\n\nFinally, each country also got a concession—a single provision of the Fleet Compact that didn't apply to them.\n\n\"So the constitution says there's no slavery, but the bonded nations use the territorial sovereignty and their concessions to ignore the right to freedom and dignity?\"\n\nCly nodded. \"It was an ingenious suggestion. The free nations were getting a gift, and they knew it. The portside governments had to exclude Article Two, but those to starboard got to pick whatever concession benefited them most. It made the whole Compact easier to swallow. In reference to any given sticking point, negotiators could say: \"Don't like it? Let that be your concession.\"\n\nThey'd built their entire government on a loophole.\n\nNo wonder everyone spends so much time bashing things out in court, Sophie thought.\n\nThe history discussion sanded the edge off the tension between them, though Sophie continued to watch for Nightjar. It was easier than looking at Cly.\n\nBy now they were passing ships bound out toward the Fleet and other places from Sylvanna. One came alongside to deliver a bundle of mail. When it was sorted, a cadet sailor approached. \"Mail, Kir.\" He handed Cly several sealed envelopes.\n\n\"Thank you, Jonno.\" Cly looked at the pages and bowed to Sophie. \"We can talk later?\"\n\nShe nodded and he strode off.\n\n\"One for you, Kir.\" The boy held out one last little billet.\n\nThe letter was from Beatrice.\n\nSophie, it began, in English.\n\n\"No 'dearest child' here,\" she muttered.\n\nI've just learned how my cousin Annela has roped you into this scheme to get me off of Breadbasket. I suppose I ought to thank you (and I do want to go home) but I want you to know this wasn't my idea. If they'd told me, I'd never have agreed.\n\nSince you're at sea with Clydon now, I will say that you're not in danger. You don't need to be afraid of your father, and if you're with him, you shouldn't need to fear anyone else. But he wants something from you, Sophie, and whatever it is, it won't be good.\n\nBreak your agreement with him, if you can. Don't worry about me. I know everyone's whining about ugliness in the Convene and a scandal over this whole mess, but Clydon needs to be divorced, more badly than I do. He'll concede in time.\n\nThere it was. Sophie was off the hook if she told Cly to stuff it.\n\nThis will blow over in time. Besides, anything you do in a well-intended attempt to help is likely to make things worse.\n\nBeatrice Vanko.\n\n\"Thanks a lot,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Strangely, the letter made her more determined, rather than less, to help her birth mother.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 24 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Land to port!\" one of the kids shouted then, and she got her first sight of Sylvanna.\n\nIt was an emerald glimmer on the horizon, dotted with the barely visible glints of lighthouses, pinpoints of radiance that would brighten as the sun went down. Sophie could just make out a denser cluster of lamps rising from the coastline. The city Autumn?\n\nThe sea between them was full of ships.\n\n\"That's the Butcher's Baste,\" said Zita, as Sophie turned to ask. \"Sylvanna and Haversham lie within each other's territorial limit.\"\n\nSophie busied herself with taking footage. \"Looks like they're keeping a close eye on each other.\"\n\n\"A well-lit border keeps nobody awake, the expression goes.\"\n\nThe telephoto helped separate the two islands from each other, revealing the stretch of water that separated them. A big, wind-sanded tower of rock jutted up at the entrance of the Baste. \"I'm guessing the lights help prevent shipwrecks, too.\"\n\n\"It's a dangerous passage. Mad currents, shallows, lots of rocks, and, they say, ghosts and monsters.\"\n\n\"The star-crossed butcher and his dressmaker girlfriend, I remember.\"\n\n\"The most gifted sailors in Fleet are sometimes challenged to race its intervals. Racing the Baste, we call it.\" Zita said this in a tone that suggested this particular form of attempted suicide was on her bucket list of life goals. \"We'll reach the Autumn port before dawn. What are you going to do?\"\n\nSophie looked at the letter from Beatrice, then at the rack of swords gleaming on deck, the marked-out boundaries of the duelists' circle.\n\nCly wants something from me. What?\n\nBelieve me when I say I want to go home, Beatrice had said.\n\nShe thought again: if not for her birth mother hauling her off to California, she'd own a swamp and the people in it. Even now Beatrice would rather remain under arrest than see Sophie compromise herself.\n\n\"I've come this far,\" she said. \"It'd be wrong to turn my back.\"", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue with the same vibes as A. M. Dellamonica. Story might have ongoing characters/plots - work with what's given", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The buildings of Autumn City were made of brick, just as they were in the painting she'd been shown, but Cly's mother hadn't captured the touches that made the city autumnal—the street lamps were carved in the shape of gourds, and the road cobbles were patterned to evoke interlocked red and gold leaves. All the public art was concerned, thematically, with aging—the statues depicted people at the point where midlife started to cede to old age. There were waning moons everywhere and the planters were filled with species that had lots of red chlorophyll. Everywhere she looked, she saw huge arrangements of dried flowers—red and gold petals, sunflowers.\n\nSophie almost balked when she got her first glimpse of a slave, an ordinary-looking woman bound on some kind of business, only recognizable as such because of her wrist manacles.\n\nBut Sophie was committed. She'd finish out the trip and get Beatrice off the hook—entirely off the hook, if she could—before going back to San Francisco.\n\nVerena had answered her with a short note:\n\nSophie: I'm really sorry.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I stupidly told Annela you'd never go for a sail to a slave nation, so she explicitly forbid us to mention it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She figured once you signed a contract, you'd feel obliged. I was in trouble anyway—I guess I was too chicken to defy her.\n\nWe're en route. Parrish says a few days if winds are fair.\n\nJust FYI, the whole Fleet is in a lather: the Verdanii Allmother tried to nudge the courts into letting Mom go and Sylvanna's allies made a big stink about Verdanii entitlement and miscarriages of justice. Things are supertense. If there's any way you could spend a few days on the island humoring His Honor, I'd be grateful. Thanks, V.\n\nBram was briefer: WHAT'S GOING ON?\n\nAs they disembarked, Sophie was clad in her outlander outfit—as Cly put it, and to his obvious displeasure—jeans and a T-shirt. She was determined not to be taken for a landholder, as it was euphemistically called.\n\nHe was dressed more or less as usual, in what she was beginning to think of as his Shakespeare suit—breeches, peasant shirt, rapier—but he'd donned a white sash marked with several broaches.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(ooc: Essential phrase to include: \"You and I must go to the birth registry with Beatrice's warranty of marital fidelity.\")", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've hired us a carriage,\" Cly said, with a light emphasis on the word \"hired.\" Sophie looked over the driver anyway, checking for manacles. He had ringworm and colored his hair, which was graying, but he also had a money belt under his shirt and smooth, unadorned wrists.\n\n\"Where are the others?\"\n\n\"Krispos and Zita will meet us at Low Bann,\" Cly said. \"You and I must go to the birth registry with Beatrice's warranty of marital fidelity.\"\n\nShe clambered into the carriage, which left her facing him.\n\n\"Why did you change your mind?\"\n\nShe read him a rough translation of Beatrice's letter.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sniffed. \"One might wish she'd expressed a little affection for you.\"\n\n\"She's honest.\"\n\nA quirked eyebrow. \"Compared to whom?\"\n\n\"Is she right? Is there something you want?\"\n\n\"Your mother doesn't know me as well as she claims,\" Cly said. \"I wish to become acquainted with you.\"\n\n\"I think I'm going home after this,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"To the outlands? What about your studies? The position I've offered you?\"\n\nWhat indeed? Loss gnawed at her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She hadn't even managed a single research dive.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll have to give up on that.\"\n\n\"All because Sylvanna is bonded?\" he growled, looking out the window.\n\n\"It's a big deal, Cly.\"\n\n\"I suppose I'll follow you to the outlands, then.\"\n\nShe couldn't help smiling. \"What a can of worms that would be.\"\n\n\"Come, teach me a few words of Anglay.\"\n\n\"What words?\" Out of my way, peasant, or I'll cut you?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He shrugged and they fell silent until they'd reached a columned building whose window screens were painted with autumn leaves.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Despite the decorations, it had a decidedly institutional air.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "(hey for the next response, Include 'sophie' 2 time(s) in your answer - no more, no less)", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly helped her down from the carriage before a slave could offer and then opened the door to the building, too.\n\nOnce inside, he strode up to the receptionist, exchanging a few quick words with her in Sylvanner. The woman made a gesture toward a side room that appeared to be a parlor—at least, it had tables, lamps, and books.\n\nIt was fairly packed with bored-looking Sylvanners.\n\nBooks, thought Sophie. Part of her was smarting from having told Cly she was packing up her toys and going home.\n\nCly glanced at the waiting room, shook his head curtly, uttered a speech that included a few Fleet phrases: \"—still on Maple Lane?\" and \"—await your pleasure.\"\n\nThen, with a bow and a \"Come, Sophie,\" he swept back into the street.\n\n\"We're not doing the birth registry after all?\" she asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The registrar can find us,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see no reason to sit in a dingy administrative parlor waiting on the convenience of a minor bureaucrat.\"\n\nHe ushered her down a lane lined with peach trees, heavy with green-gold underripe fruit, and then up onto the porch of a big building whose open door exhaled the scent of baking bread and fresh-brewed tea. Striding past the hostess, he chose a beautifully positioned table that offered a view of the town square and the registry.\n\n\"Sit,\" he said, taking the other chair.\n\nSophie wasn't about to turn down the chance to have a good look at Autumn City. She took in the square, the winding paths paved in interlocked stones, and then at the homes. They had the spread and columns of big Georgian courthouses—she was reminded of the White House—but the columns themselves weren't stone as far as she could tell, but looked instead to be some kind of wide-bore bamboo plant.\n\nJudging from the size of the downtown core and the density of the people, she guessed that the city had, perhaps, a population of a hundred thousand. They were dressed for the most part in a unisex version of the sports jumper Cly had had made for her—the pants that came to just below the knee, the loose shirt beneath a vest with open arms.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone but the youngest children and the slaves wore a sash like the one Cly had put on himself.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Social coding, Sophie guessed. Cly's sash was white, but most of those worn by the adults were black. Kids and young adults wore crimson. The sashes were adorned with ladder-like arrangements of stick pins with emblems on them.\n\nThe first pin, atop each black sash, resting more or less where the collarbone would be, usually depicted two hands clasped together. Cly's, on the white, was an open hand. The second, in most cases, showed a stylized house. Cly didn't have that one.\n\nSo a quick look at a person's chest tells you who they are, whether they're... married, maybe?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "And a slaveowner. What's the symbol for that—a boot on a neck?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were a dozen or so young couples, all but one of them heterosexual, parading about. They had flowers—real, perishable ones—pinned to their red sashes. They were being accorded an elaborate, almost ritual respect, and served first at the cafés.\n\n\"Betrothed,\" Cly explained as a pair came in and claimed a tray of tea that had been headed toward the two of them. The waiter shot Cly an apologetic look and got the hand flick in reply as he rushed off to get another.\n\n\"All these couples are engaged?\"\n\n\"It's the season.\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Midsummer is when families solidify unions. These children\"—flick at the tea poachers—\"have been accorded an opportunity to practice the privileges and responsibilities of adulthood until they actually wed.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's right, you said marriages were arranged.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Usually. It's quite the celebration. Houses merge, favored slaves are freed, there's gift-giving and music. The festivals...\" As he spoke, he removed two new sashes from his case—one black, one red, and got to his feet. A slender woman with a burgeoning leather case was rushing across the table to them.\n\n\"Kir Banning,\" she said, bowing, and then came a rush of words, some of which Sophie caught: \"waiting,\" \"honored,\" \"paperwork.\"\n\nOverlapping vocabulary. The Sylvanner language must have been the basis for Fleet, or related to it.\n\n\"My daughter speaks only Fleet,\" said Cly.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" she said more slowly. \"I am Munschler from the Registrations Office. It is... Zophie?\"\n\nSophie nodded.\n\n\"I have your Assertions and Rights of Claim.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sit,\" Cly ordered. Soon he and the woman were deep in the bureaucratic tangle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They seemed to require little from her.\n\nSophie stared out the window, taking in the betrothed couples, a bricklayer mortaring a low wall, a small flock of ordinary-looking brown pigeons circling the skies above one of the older buildings.\n\nHer gaze fell on a perfectly coiffed woman with a patched dress and a white sash topped by an empty-hand pin, just like Cly's. A widow? She was standing beside a stone bench, selling oranges from a basket to the passersby. Most of the people heading past avoided her gaze, as they would that of a panhandler at home. One snarky-looking betrothed boy demanded an orange from her and did not pay.\n\nMunschler coughed, drawing her attention back to the table. \"Know you anything that would oppose the idea that this man is your father?\"\n\nSophie shook her head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He and Beatrice were married.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are married,\" Cly corrected. \"Beatrice broke contract and thereby annulled our divorce.\"\n\n\"You know of no other contenders, then, child? Nobody has claimed to be your father?\"\n\nThis world seriously needs DNA testing. \"I only just met them.\"\n\n\"Sophie was fostered in the outlands,\" Cly explained.\n\n\"The assertion is a formality,\" Munschler assured her, sliding a page across the table. \"We need know only that nobody has told you of a competing claim.\"\n\nShe thought of her dad briefly, of his tight brows and railing about imprecision and lazy thinking.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nobody else has ever said they were my birth father.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good, then, sign it.\" Munschler dove back into her paperwork.\n\nA minute later, a white-gloved girl with manacles clamped around her wrists brought a paper-wrapped packet to the table and set it before Sophie.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"Just a treat. It's traditional,\" Cly said.\n\nA treat for the child, brought by a slave, she thought. It smelled like pork and was wrapped in a heavy-looking pastry.\n\nFling it away? No, the orange lady looked hungry. Sophie walked out to the street, offering it to her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The woman reached out to take it, then drew back as if her fingers had been burned.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's okay,\" Sophie said. She could feel as much as see the people turning, all around the square, to watch. She'd committed a social transgression of some kind. But hey—what the hell. She was a big old outlander, right? Or at best a child. \"Take it. Have a bit of protein.\"\n\nThe woman bowed. \"Thank you, Kir.\"\n\nShe returned to the teahouse, to Cly and Munschler.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bureaucrat had turned a bright pink and was talking a bit loudly. Pretending not to have noticed anything? Cly was eyeing Sophie as if she were a horse with a thrown shoe.\n\nThe orange lady took an indelicately large bite of the bun, then another. She paused to sell an orange to an old man who gave her a bright coin. As he walked away, he shot a glare at the teahouse. He was followed by a betrothed couple who insisted on paying her for two oranges. Then another came.\n\nApparently Sylvanners didn't appreciate it when you offered their beggars a bite to eat.\n\nOver the course of the next ten minutes all the people in the square quietly bought the woman's basket down to nothing.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was an odd tension to the ritual.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They'd let her eat a few bites of the pork bun.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then a few of them would pay her—overpay, from the size of the coins—for an orange.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An air of disapproval built up, thicker than the considerable humidity within the square. When she'd finished her bun and the basket was empty, the last sodden orange sold, the uniformed man who bought it spoke a few words in the woman's ear.\n\nWhat had he said? You're out of oranges, so push on? The woman shambled away, shoulders heaving a little. A competitor rushed to occupy her piece of shade.\n\n\"Sophie.\" Cly rapped on the table. \"Perhaps if you're finished shaming all of Autumn, you'd care to witness your certification of birth.\"\n\nMunschler held out an official-looking page. \"Ah. Sign here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie looked it over.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was in Sylvanner. \"All this says is I'm your daughter? I'm not agreeing to buy a bridge or join a convent?\"\n\n\"Convent?\"\n\n\"Never mind.\" She signed it and the bureaucrat scuttled off, leaving the table in humid silence.\n\n\"I gave a hungry woman a bun. What's the big deal?\"\n\n\"It was an act of kindness,\" Cly said, with apparent reluctance. \"Will this happen every time one of the bonded hands you something to eat?\"\n\n\"Pretty much, yeah. Or when they treat me like a six-year-old.\"\n\nHe simmered across the table at her, but she held his gaze, refusing to be stared down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Finally he summoned a waiter.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Have my carriage sent after the widow,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tell the driver to help her harvest another basket of oranges and take her wherever she'd like to go. Buy her some eggs while you're at it.\"\n\nWith that, he began transferring some but not all of his pins from the white sash to the black one he'd taken from his bag.\n\n\"I suppose I should explain about these,\" he said.\n\n\"It's not that hard to work out,\" Sophie replied. \"They signify social status. Anyone can tell, at a glance, who you are and where you fit within the pecking order.\"\n\n\"I suppose you know why I'm switching colors, then.\"\n\n\"Your status has changed because you've got a kid. Your... divorce from Beatrice screwed something up, back in the day. You said your parents considered you a child? Moved you back into the nursery?\"\n\n\"Indeed. I was little better than that widow. Now I'm a father,\" he said. \"Black sash. Automatically adult.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So it's better for a Sylvanner to have a child than not? A kid can offset the social disadvantage of being divorced and childless.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Widowed and childless, yes. My situation has ever been exceptional.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the pins' specific meanings?\" She didn't much feel like talking, but silence, she sensed, might be worse.\n\n\"Clasped hands—wedded. Sailing vessel—bound to Fleet. Peach blossom—parent. Crossed swords—duelist.\" His clipped tone showed he wasn't feeling all that impressed with her, either. \"House—head of household.\"\n\n\"You didn't have that one on your white sash.\"\n\n\"Childless, unmarried adults are rarely considered fit to administer an estate. My awful cousin Fren has been running Low Bann. Let's go demote her, shall we?\"\n\n\"Gee, that sounds fun.\"\n\n\"We'll be riding now.\"\n\n\"Horses?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What else?\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "user note just fyi, [System: Use 'carriage' 2 times in response]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You've obliged me to give the carriage away for the afternoon.\"\n\n\"Whatever,\" Sophie said, suspecting she sounded like the child she kept insisting she wasn't, but unable to rise, entirely, above the tension.\n\nShe hadn't ridden all that much in the grand scheme of things, though as a kid she'd been to camp once or twice. They'd probably give her a little-girl horse so her legs would dangle. At least she could shoot pictures in the open air rather than through some smeary volcanic-glass carriage window.\n\n\"Here's yours.\" Cly handed her a black sash with a single pin, adorned with a piece of white quartz cut in facets. It reminded her a little of a crystal doorknob.\n\n\"What's this one mean?\"\n\n\"Foreign adult, as per the contract.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thanks.\" She put it on.\n\nGetting horses consisted of walking to the stables and demanding them. As seemed to be his wont, Cly strolled past the first mounts offered without even looking, instead selecting a pair of massive black horses who looked like they might be Percherons. He had them loaded with flasks of water, appropriated a pair of linen sun hats, told the stable keeper to charge it all to Low Bann, and led her out to a paddock while they were saddled.\n\nSylvanner saddles were more British in style than Western—no pommel—but the bridle, reins, and stirrups all served the usual functions. Sophie's mount, Ballado, was a huge step up and wide across. Once she was astride him, she took him in a circle, once and then twice around the paddock. The groom watched attentively, then nodded.\n\n\"All right?\" Cly asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It clearly hadn't occurred to him that she might not ride.\n\nShe checked her seat, then arranged her cameras so they were within easy reach. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Let's go.\" He gave his mount the barest of nudges and they clopped out into the city.\n\nThey set out on the main road with its interlocking-leaf pattern, then veered into a residential neighborhood. The residents seemed affluent at first, at least to judge by the stand-alone houses and their trappings, but over time the houses shrank, the yards got smaller, and the trimmings fell into disrepair. Their doors bore wooden equivalents to the status sashes. Covered strips of varnished wood hung diagonally above the doors, pegged with the various symbols—the hands, the homes.\n\nWho you are matters terribly here, Sophie concluded.\n\nAs they left the town behind and moved along the orchards, there was plenty to observe and to film.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fields of familiar crops—apricot, plum, peach, nectarine, apple, and pear—alternated with some that were unmistakably new.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She saw big cherries, so purple they might have been blue, and a red-skinned citrus she'd seen, on Erinth, when she visited before.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Half a dozen canines, too small and dark-furred to be coyotes, followed them for half a mile or so as they moved past the boundary of the city. Less because they thought they could take down a horse and rider, Sophie thought, than because they had nothing better to do.\n\nOut of the city, it was even hotter. The air felt wet, like someone's breath on the back of her neck.\n\nShe looked ahead at the figure of Cly, riding and self-contained. No divorce on this island, so they labeled him a childless widower. That's obviously not good, if that old lady's any example. Now he's got a kid, he's better off.\n\nCly's original sash hadn't had head of household on it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie had signed her birth certificate and now Cly had been bumped up his family's chain of precedence.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were on their way to dislodge a cousin, he'd said. Someone else who'd been running the family home.\n\nBeatrice thinks he wants something. Maybe it's just control over his estate? It would be worth it to figure it out, since she was here anyway.\n\nThere was a profusion of red birds, each as small as her thumb, in a bush near the road. Some had blue eyes, the others gray. The former would be one sex, the gray the other.\n\nShe reined in, steadied Ballado, and shot thirty seconds of video.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "<<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'branch' must be used 2 times", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They seemed fearless, and as she continued to observe, she saw a gray snake, the same color as the tree trunk, winding up the branch hoping to catch one.\n\nShe zoomed in, forgeting everything. The snake was perhaps eighteen inches long. Against the ash-colored trunk of the bush, it was very nearly invisible. It glided up, edging closer to the branches where the birds were hopping to and fro. Patiently, it folded itself to strike.\n\nSophie lost herself in the shot, zooming in on the snake and the branch, that little bird landing platform in the frame. The horse moved under her. \"Shush shush,\" she told him absently.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A bird dropped to the branch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The snake snapped out, jaws extended.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was a miss, a red blur, and all the little spoonfuls of red feather burst from the bush at once, peeping madly as they shot past Sophie.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "[System: Include the following text] → \"They're drawn to cooling campfires sometimes. These orchards are fenced against them.\"", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The snake opened and shut its cotton-candy mouth once or twice—Sophie almost imagined it smacking its lips—and then stretched itself out to wait for their return.\n\n\"Missed, did he?\" Cly had reined in beside her.\n\n\"The predator can't always win, can it? I don't know this species.\"\n\n\"Soot viper,\" he said. \"They're drawn to cooling campfires sometimes. These orchards are fenced against them.\"\n\n\"They're poisonous?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"He's not advertising. No red and black markings.\"\n\n\"Why would such a creature make itself conspicuous?\" Cly asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"To warn off predators.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For your next response only, include regular dialogue", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dust vipers are less hunted than hunting.\"\n\n\"Sneaks, in other words.\"\n\n\"Nothing wrong with a well-laid ambush in the cause of supper.\" He sidestepped his horse closer to the bush, lashing out with a hunting knife she hadn't known he was carrying and beheading it with a swift whisk of his arm.\n\n\"Hey!\" Sophie objected. \"Was that necessary?\"\n\nThe pieces had landed at the base of the tree.\n\nKilling animals, she thought. Sign of sociopathy?\n\n\"They kill fruit pickers. The suffering the bites cause is terrible. There must be a break in the snake fencing; we'll watch for it.\"\n\nSophie reined Ballado, leapt down, and picked up the snake's body pieces.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Farmers killed pests, that was the way of things. And Cly claimed he was protecting others.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" She felt almost dissected by the gaze he'd turned on her: it was like being scanned for something.\n\n\"No reason to let a perfectly good sample go to waste.\" She wrapped it in a handkerchief, tucking it into one of the saddlebags.\n\nAt her answer, he seemed to relax. Sophie raised her eyebrows in a silent question.\n\n\"I'm relieved,\" he said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'd wondered how far your soft-heartedness might extend.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was astounded. Here she'd been wondering if he had the emotional makeup of a serial killer, and he was simultaneously trying to figure out... what? If she was some kind of total vegan pacifist? \"Killing a pest that might hurt a fruit picker, or even performing a dissection... it's a little different from chopping up an unarmed bandit who's surrendering, don't you think?\"\n\nIt took a moment before he answered with a mild, \"Just so.\"\n\nThen he turned his horse, riding away in silence.\n\nSophie remounted and followed, leaving the little red birds to reclaim their bush in safety.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Hey can you write in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre and use whatever I write as a jumping off point? Follow my lead on how characters are introduced.", "loss": null }, { "from": "human", "value": "Low Bann was about a ninety-minute ride, or it would have been if Sophie hadn't stopped twice more to take shots of unfamiliar species—a tree in one case and a peculiar, green-toned millipede.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly's childhood home was built into a hillside that rose up from marshy saltwater flats and extended beyond them in every direction.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Up on the terraces of the hill was an orchard filled with bluish cherry plants and nearly ripe plums and fences lined with honeysuckle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The countryside was alive with bees—the trellises were crawling with workers in pursuit of pollen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Apiaries hunched along a fence near a biggish bird coop.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "As they rode up to the house, two slaves opened the double doors and a quartet of richly dressed redheads emerged, almost mincing to stay within the shadow of parasols upheld by still more slaves clustered around them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They were led by a woman of about thirty-five years; behind her were a man the same age and two children who looked to be fifteen, the latter nearly identical except that one was a girl and the other a boy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So it's true,\" the man breathed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had a squarish, fireplug build and the pins on his sash seemed to indicate he'd been assigned, at one time, to the Fleet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Beatrice has returned from the outlands.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman snorted. \"That's not Beatrice. It's a child.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My child, as it happens. Kir Sophie Hansa.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly swung down from the horse, utterly in control of himself and wearing the sharkiest of his grins.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie, my cousin Fenn and her husband, Ilden. Their twins, Mirelda and Mervin.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie slid off her horse and gave her best approximation of Parrish's little bow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then she turned back to her mount.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A slave was already leading it and Cly's horse away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her father caught her arm before she could go after them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stay. Nobody bonded will lift a finger to do anything more for you. My word on it.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She remembered Parrish suddenly, telling her parents that she'd be safe here.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Saying \"my word,\" in English, while her father tried to place his accent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Okay, I can do this.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hi, everyone,\" she said, edging away from the group before one of the entourage could put a parasol over her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fenn was studying the two of them minutely.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She didn't have much of a poker face—whatever she saw made her furious.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "With teeth gritted, she said, \"Welcome home, cousins.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How long will you be here?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked the man. His hostility was tempered with resignation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You must have cases to adjudicate.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Neneh, I'm on leave from the Judiciary.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly ambled across the porch, ignoring—or enjoying—their rising distress as he unpinned the head of household icon from Fenn's sash.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He tucked it into his pocket.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She flushed red and her eyes flicked to his sword.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I might stay a day, or a month, or forever.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The country life—you?\" The man barked laughter.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "I wonder how long they're planning to sit out here fencing?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie considered following the horses to the stables after all—she should rub down her own mount.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Sylvanners' weird shaming of the widow rose, unbidden, in her mind.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If she did some slave's job, would the slave be punished?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly wouldn't dare, she thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He's been holding his temper all this time because... why?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "What's he want from me? Is it this?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Deciding to give the awkward family scene five more minutes, she turned her attention to the kids.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Up close, they were less perfectly identical: Mervin was more muscular, and Mirelda had a milk-pale complexion and a faint whistle in her breath.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Asthma? Caused by anxiety, or was it the undoubtedly high pollen count?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She was standing too straight, as though she was uncomfortable.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie looked for a cause.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There—her feet were all but popping out of the petite and pointy white shoes they'd been jammed into.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looks like they'd fit her mother.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda's coils of hair were perfect, nothing out of place.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All this was a big show for Cly's arrival.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He must have sent a message ahead to announce himself; or maybe Fenn had spies in town.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a yellow stain on the boy's hand.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A smoker? Kid, you're fifteen—but once Sophie saw it, there was no denying that his overall fidgety air looked remarkably like he was having a nicotine fit.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He caught Sophie's eye and raised his brows, making a face: Isn't this all so dumb?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie replied with a quick, noncommittal smile.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly had caught the exchange.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where are my manners? Come in, all of you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "With a grand gesture, he ushered everyone inside, as though he'd been here all along and the rest of them had just showed up for Thanksgiving.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Deftly taking the door, he swung it wide, murmuring a few words to the manacled woman who'd been holding it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The slaves folded their parasols and made themselves scarce.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dear Sophie,\" he continued, \"I don't mean to involve you in the dull business of auditing the household books. Would you wish to explore the estate with your cousins?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She nodded and he said, \"Children, show Sophie the grounds.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "With that, their elders vanished deeper into the house.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was a relief to be away from Cly for a while.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie smiled at the girl and gestured at her shoes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you want to get those off?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The girl grimaced. \"I can barely walk.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You don't even have to tour me around the grounds, if you don't want.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The boy sighed. \"Come on, Mirrie. You know we better do as he says.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The girl slipped out of the white shoes with a sigh of relief, picking them up and disappearing inside.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The boy loosened his collar, rolled up his cuffs, and fished in his pockets for the makings of a cigarette.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, Kir, you're Verdanii?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His Fleet was decent, his accent faint.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie shook her head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd renounced any claim on Verdanii citizenship when she first came here.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was that or basically steal Verena's life out from under her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They tell me I'm an outlander.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Marvelous! Is it true what they say about the outlands?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do they say?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Petrodemons hunt the unwary by night, roaring, with glowing lamps for eyes.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Petrodemons, huh? And what, exactly, would they be?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They breathe fire and choking blackness—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin was interrupted by his sister's return; she had a pair of boots and was looking around in confusion.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where's Betta?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mervin said something in Sylvanner, in an undertone and fast.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda snapped Sophie a glance and struggled into her boots.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was apparent that she usually had help.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come on,\" Sophie said, after she'd laced them up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Let's have a look at the joint.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Neither of them seemed inclined to lead, so she headed off the veranda, into the full sun and the sauna of midsummer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She picked a direction, heading out along the boundary of the orchard, picking a leaf or two off every plant she came across, tucking them into one of her notebooks.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They followed a fence that ran parallel to the estate's driveway, climbing a low hill.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How much of this is Low Bann?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All you see,\" Mirelda huffed, \"and more besides.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "So Cly's family had more land than the three of them could wander in a short stretch of time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They reached a long hedge of flowered bushes—a lagerstroemia variant, Sophie thought, as she took a leaf and a blossom.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They'd be deliberately cultivating them within a convenient distance of the apiaries.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Behind the hedge, hidden from the house, was the bird coop she'd spotted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was occupied by a dozen ordinary chickens and one smallish ostrich.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Want to pet her?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin suggested. He had lit his smoke and appeared to be enjoying the amble.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda looked as though she couldn't believe she'd made it this far.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Her feathers are very soft.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "His sister shot him a look, sideways.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You first,\" Sophie said, and Mervin's smirk widened. \"Yeah. Thought so.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She'd have left you your fingers,\" he said, with a lazy grin that probably disarmed people all the time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie took a few photos of the ostrich and continued on.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nothing she saw over the course of the next hour did anything to convince her that Mervin was anything other than a mean-spirited little thug.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda, she wasn't so sure about—she was unused to walking and kept hinting they should just go back to the house.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The air was hot and thick and there were marvels at every step: potter wasps and sawflies, and more sun-burnished, half-ripe peaches and nectarines.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw a huge leopard frog for all of an instant before it shot off its log and into the shelter of the nearest puddle of water.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie made her way down past the built-up area the house occupied to a boardwalk that led to the increasingly lush swamp.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda balked. \"I think we've gone plenty far.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go back to the house... it's fine.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "An anguished look. \"Mervin.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come on, Mirrie, it'll be fun. Cly told us to entertain Cousin Zophie.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He means maybe Cousin Zophie will get herself scared by an alligator, Sophie thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Seriously, Mirelda, you don't have to come.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look!\" The girl pointed, tone falsely bright.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's the Autumn spellscribe!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two vehicles were rolling up the drive.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One was Cly's carriage, laden with trunks, and—she assumed—carrying Krispos and Zita.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Behind it was something that looked less like a wagon and more like a rolling teacup, chariot-size and orange in color, horseless, with a whirling base that glowed even in the midday sunlight.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They haven't seen us,\" Mervin said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can vanish into the swamp.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie considered. It was only two hundred meters.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But if Zita was in Cly's wagon, maybe she could trade the twins in for better company... not to mention getting Mirelda out of what she clearly saw as a forced march.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She probably got blisters from wearing Fenn's shoes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let's go say hello.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The vehicles stopped as soon as the driver saw them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita disembarked, wearing the same foreigner's sash Sophie wore—black fabric, white glass bauble—and an expression of sheer amazement.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her surprise doubled when Sophie bounded up and hugged her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Krispos peered out at her from inside the carriage.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He'd had his nose in a book, naturally.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well met, Kir Sophie.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hi, Krispos.\" To Zita she said, \"I'm going to say hello to some scribe, then I'm headed off exploring. Want to come?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita grinned. Aboard ship, she'd never quite shed her air of military discipline, but now she seemed more relaxed, a bit like a college student on vacation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I could use a decent walk on land.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin didn't look as though he had much idea what to do with himself amid this sudden crowd.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He hung to the rear, recalculating.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda, all smiles, led a spindle-limbed woman, with ink-smudged hands and a slight limp, toward them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cousin Sophie,\" she said formally, \"this is Autumn of the Spell.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie matched Zita's bow and said, \"My friend, Cadet Judge Zita.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita shot her a second surprised look and Sophie suppressed a smirk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Of course I've picked up some Fleet etiquette.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Autumn returned their bow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was an air of expectation that suggested to Sophie that it fell to her to push the conversation along.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She tried: \"So, what brings you to Low Bann?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I come often to visit.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She gave Mirelda a warm smile, and Sophie saw a gap in her teeth, likewise marked with ink.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She chews her pen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mirelda hopes to join the institute once she's married.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nice,\" Sophie said, liking the girl better for having a vocation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shame she's dumber than a Haver,\" Mervin muttered, too softly for Autumn to hear.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda heard, though: a shock ran through her, making her curls bounce.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're off to explore the swamp,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe, Mirelda, you'd like to go with Autumn here? There's space in Cly's carriage. Is there a library in the house? You'd really help me out if you got Krispos reading indexes, directories, anything that offers an overview of local politics or science.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll find him something.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda scrambled aboard with her head raised, though she was blinking back tears.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Krispos patted her hand.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie looked at Mervin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh,\" he said. \"I'll stick with you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Suddenly not so sure you're invited.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stop me,\" he said, sauntering back toward the swamp.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Autumn gave them a resigned shrug, then climbed back into her fabulous teacup, whirring up the drive.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wagon followed; Zita and Sophie started for the boardwalk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cousins of yours, the girl said,\" Zita said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Evil troll child, in Merv's case. He's hoping I'll see a spider and faint dead away.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I studied with a fellow like that.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's good to see you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita's eyes—they were amber, almost as yellow as a wolf's—got wide.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie remembered, suddenly, that she was gay.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not that I'm flirting.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Understood.\" An easier smile.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your Fleet cutter has been sighted en route here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nightjar?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They'll make port in a few days if—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If winds be fair?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The thought of getting back to Nightjar was like seeing the sun after weeks of cold and rain.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What a relief. I've done the birth registry, I've seen Low Bann. Now all that's left on that damn contract I signed is surviving this summer ball and seeing the Spellscrip Institute. Then I'm out of here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm sorry it didn't work out,\" Zita said, more formally.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "That's right, she worships Cly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sorry,\" Sophie said. \"You're in an awkward position with all this.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita waved off the expression of concern as if it were a harmless insect.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a gesture Sophie recognized—she'd picked it up from Cly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The boardwalk led through a trimmed corridor of branches, carefully hedged and netted—because of the poisonous vipers, Sophie would have bet—and then out over a riparian strip leading to a circular, mirror-smooth pond.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The grass ceded to muck under the boards, then to actual puddles pierced at the edges by needle-thin reeds.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The water was alive with clouds of insects.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "No mosquitos, thankfully, but there were plenty of dragonflies darting about.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The air thrummed with frogsong.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Water skimmers swirled over the surface of the pond in packs, like kids skating.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie spotted a toad that was extinct in the wild at home and felt that ache again, that sense of having to choose between two lives.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She should be moving through this swamp a few square feet at a time, inventorying wildlife species, taking pictures and samples.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She thought of an otter-built raft she'd seen six month earlier, out in the ocean.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Just one of who knew how many wonders waiting to be discovered.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The trees here were of a broadleaf species; their trunks were the same ash-colored hue as a bush she'd spotted on the road.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Here at the trailhead, where the boardwalk skirted the lake, the trees were widely spaced.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Managed, Sophie suspected. The leaf litter on the land side of the boardwalk was thick, wet, and sludgy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But some of the puddles in the muck around the lake—a few dozen of the hundreds visible from this vantage point—had been cleared of refuse.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "In each of these puddles one green leaf sat, centered in the shallow water, bowed upward like a little umbrella.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie bent, carefully fishing up a sodden stick, discarding it and then finding a dry one.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Want my sword?\" Zita said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This'll do.\" Using the stick, she lifted one of the umbrella leaves.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been floored in a delicate web that held the water as she raised it.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A dark green shape, eight-legged, many-eyed, stared back at her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She raised the whole thing, setting it on the boardwalk, and took out her camera.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The structure of the web makes both a floor and a float,\" Sophie said, setting the camera, too, on the boardwalk floor and crouching down until she was almost on her belly to take the shots.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It sits below the surface of the water and the bugs skate in.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So, a spider?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Want to see?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita smiled and bent to peer inside.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mervin had vanished beyond the lake, into the deeper swamp.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now he returned at the mouth of the next cut-in corridor of vegetation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are you coming, Kirs?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are we?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Much as I'd like to show up the little troll, we don't have provisions for a good hike,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm sure His Honor didn't mean for us to disappear for hours.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Plenty to see right here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She offered Zita a look at the camera, got an incurious head shake in return, and replaced the spider within its puddle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she took a closer look at the lake's edge.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The water looked to be maybe eighteen inches in depth—she pushed her stick down.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It resisted when she pulled it back.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Spongy, you see? Not sandy.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who's a coward now?\" Mervin shouted.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Look,\" Sophie said. She had the camera trained on the water—a school of green minnows was passing through.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One blundered into a spider trap that had drifted out into the open water.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The leaf rocked wildly.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rather than try to take on a fish, the spider cut the strands of its floor loose.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The leaf sprung free; the minnow shot back toward its school.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Patiently, the spider began to rebuild its home.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Any interest in this?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita had found a fire salamander on a nearby leaf.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It blinked at them, unconcerned.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie grinned at the amphibian. \"He's lovely.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She could do this forever: sit in an abundant ecosystem, near water, and just take it in.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rustling across the lake drew her attention next.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her first reaction to the figures was excitement, a bursting, exuberant Oh!", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then it was Fauns, wow, fauns!", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then realization, like being plunged into ice water: Oh.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If you couldn't see their legs, the three slaves did look a little like mythical Greek fauns.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Stubs of horn protruded from their foreheads, and their faces were elongated into goatlike muzzles, with sharp, small, close-set teeth, optimized for cropping and grinding.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But their limbs were ropey, their toes long rather than hooved, the better to climb and grip the vines and tree branches.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Goats atop, apes below, she thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They made their way around the edge of a pool, taking care not to wade, half-climbing the trees to keep their legs out of the water.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They clambered onto a big tree choked with the throttlevine Cly had mentioned, the kudzu variant.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Methodically, they began stripping off the bark and munching.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dull brown manacles encircled their wrists.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie shot a look at Zita, who was trying to master her own expression of horror.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oddities,\" she whispered. \"I had heard there was a problem with their swamps, that they'd transformed.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hundreds,\" Sophie said. \"Cly told me there were hundreds.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita's lips moved... in prayer?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She tried to look away from the three malformed people, perched in a tree and eating a knotty vine of, probably, limited nutritional value, but her eyes were drawn back.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You've never seen a slave before, either,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm of the Tall. But...\" She meant she was from one of the free nations, Tallon, one of the few Sophie had seen with her own eyes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She seemed to be forcing the words out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Fleet of Nations respects the concessions of all its member states.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Pah. You're as freaked out as I am.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm sorry,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I know you're pretty keen on Cly. As a mentor, I mean.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This time, Zita did manage to gather herself.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He's a man of the Fleet. Truly, Sophie, it's not the same. You must see—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is his land, Zita. He owns them.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Without discussing it, they walked further, rounding the curve where Mervin had been lurking, taking themselves out of sight of the tree and its occupants.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm being hypocritical, aren't I?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The words came bursting from her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Letting Cly shoo the household servants out of sight, telling myself I'll do some minimal socializing and get Beatrice out of jail and run off without getting my hands dirty. But it's all around—landowners didn't build this boardwalk I'm walking on, or tend that fabulous horse I rode here from the dock.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I just. Don't. Understand.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt like some kind of lady with the vapors, breaking down in tears here in the wilds.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita had a glance down the next corridor for Mervin and then said, quietly, \"Before the Compact was signed, a little over a hundred years ago, the Piracy had free rein to prey on the lesser nations.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They'd sail someplace weak, like Redcap Island, and scoop up whole villages.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They'd kill as they pleased and carry prisoners back through the archipelagos of the Bonded Isles, selling them at market.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The free nations made attempts, now and then, to stop them, but...", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "[Author's note: Mandatory: Your text must contain 'their' 2 times exactly]", "loss": false }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In time they started to form up in a larger fleet. Even the bonded nations could see value in stopping the raids on their shipping and their cargo vessels. The pirates place great value on reputation—whenever one of them was trying to make a name, often as not they'd kidnap someone rich from a great nation and subject them to horrors before ransoming them.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Horrors. Bram had been grabbed by pirates.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They'd used a needle to force a pearl under his thumbnail.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's what happened here—they grabbed an estate holder and her seamstress and tortured them to death in the Butcher's Baste. It's why Sylvanna and the Verdanii agreed to commission the building of Temperance.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why are you telling me this?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You want to understand, don't you?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She rubbed at her eyes and nodded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita continued, \"When the preeminent nations from both sides agreed to stop the Piracy, others joined up fast. Sylvanna convinced their sister nations on the port side that the only way to truly stop the raiders was to outlaw the transport of slaves. My gran says the free nations told themselves that without shipping, without new...\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bodies? Raw materials?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita didn't argue with her word choice.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They were naive. Some thought that over time, conscience would take hold among the slavers. Others believed that if the raids on lesser nations stopped, the bonded nations would start running out of slaves. But breeding and smuggling... and even under Fleet law, if you commit a serious crime, you can choose bondage over execution. So there are as many bonded as ever.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie stared at her dully.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You buy their goods. Ualtar... Tallon buys their spidersilk rope for shipbuilding spells.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What would you have the free do, Sophie?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita spoke gently. \"The Fleet shields the lesser nations. The Convene has spent a century trying to come to an agreement on slavery that would alter the balance and satisfy everyone, but each side has their concessions and nobody's giving them up.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You could help people escape.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are many who do so. Why do you think the Butcher's Baste is so heavily defended?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And encourage rebellions?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course. But who do you think gets killed when there's an uprising?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The slaves.\" Sophie sighed. \"Naturally.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My gran says it'll come to war, maybe soon. That the free and the bonded can't ignore their differences forever, and the Cessation will break.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita looked up suddenly. \"What was that?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That\" had been a cry of sorts, a quiet one.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie leaped to her feet and trotted back the fifty or so feet to look at the vine-choked tree.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The three slaves were thirty feet up its trunk now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They were looking farther into the swamp—the noise hadn't come from them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Farther down the trail, Sophie thought, doing a one-eighty and hauling ass into the corridor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita had already gone that way, along the boardwalk, and as Sophie sprinted along after her, she heard a splash and another cry.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was Mervin—he was a few feet out into the water, flailing and apparently panicked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Zita, no!\" Sophie shouted, but the other girl had sheathed her sword and reached out to the boy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He caught her outstretched hand on the first try... and pulled.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita went down, into the muck, with a huge splash.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "IMPORTANT: 'slapping' should appear 2 times in total", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slapping, this kid needs a slapping, what was the point of that?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Little jerk I knew he was a nasty little jerk.... Sophie sprinted out to the spot on the boardwalk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin was still trying it on, seeing if he could get her, too. \"Cousin! We're stuck!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You deserve sticking,\" Sophie told him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita had surfaced, sputtering.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was uninjured—the water wasn't deep—but for some reason she was going shock white.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie knelt on the boardwalk, anchoring herself, and held out the stick she'd been using to probe the mud.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Zita seized it gratefully, steadying herself as she mushed back to the walkway.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It wasn't far and the water wasn't deep—she shouldn't have needed much help, despite the sucking mud.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she was paler with every breath and by the time Sophie hitched her up onto the boards, she was shivering.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aren't you going to help me, cousin?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Drown if you're gonna,\" Sophie told Mervin, yanking up the sleeve of Zita's blouse.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her arm was covered in inch-long leeches the color of flame.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She peeked under her shirt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were hundreds of them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin looked startled. \"So many...\" He stopped screwing around and waded out of the water, hefting himself onto the boardwalk.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie?\" Zita was looking drowsy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I bet you kept your smokes dry, didn't you?\" Sophie snapped.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mervin nodded. A few leeches dropped off his throat, apparently disliking the taste of him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I didn't know there was a nest.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Light two cigarettes.\" She unbuttoned Zita's shirt entirely and snapped her fingers as the kid dug out two hand-rolled somethings and a friction lighter and lit them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You burn her, I'll run you through with her sword,\" Sophie said, hoping she sounded convincingly violent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took the smoke and began killing the leeches on Zita's abdomen, touching the cherry of the cigarette to one creature after another.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mervin, to his credit, didn't hesitate to follow suit.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two of them worked feverishly for about five minutes, filling the air with the smell of tobacco and scorched escargot before rolling Zita over and starting on her back.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mine's done,\" Mervin said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Reload.\" Sophie unbuckled Zita's belt.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They won't have gotten past that. Check her ankles.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was right, fortunately enough.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zita's belt was tight and her pants were tucked in at the boot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Help me get her over my shoulders. Then run ahead. Get help,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I doubt I'll find anyone. Cousin Clydon told the bonded to stay out of your way, remember?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You'd better find help,\" Sophie said, heaving Zita up.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's one of Cly's favorites. Can you say the same?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was like firing him from a cannon: Mervin pounded off down the boardwalk as she began to make her own way back, a step at a time, with Zita in a fireman's carry.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The girl was slender but solid enough; Sophie was an athlete, but Zita was a dense bar of muscle, just about more than she could carry, and the air was thick.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One foot at a time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could feel Zita's pulse wherever their skin met, in her belly, against her shoulder.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Could've been worse. Swamp's gotta have alligators.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Breathe, breathe. Did she just go limp?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You with me? Zita?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No answer.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd made it just about to the edge of the boardwalk when a party from the house met her—Mervin, his sister, the spellscribe, Autumn, and six burly-looking guys with wrist bangles holding a sheet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie rolled Zita onto the sheet and they trotted her over to the nearest shade tree, a big pear.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly and the other adults were headed down from the big house.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly took in the situation, leveled a look at Mervin that made the boy shrivel, and knelt beside Zita.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She hadn't regained consciousness.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She gonna die?\" Sophie asked, between gulps of breath.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Autumn flicked a look at Cly. \"Is she?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" he said. \"As her mentor, I have her middle name in my keeping.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can save her, then. Mirelda, you'll assist me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie, stay with her,\" Cly said, and then without bothering to see if she was going to obey, switched to Sylvanner and addressed a string of words to Mervin in that low growl of his.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whatever he'd said, it went through Merv and his parents like a jolt of electricity.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come, girls,\" Autumn said, laying Zita's hand in Sophie's and somehow signaling to the six men that they should start toiling up the hill to the house.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What'd he say?\" Sophie whispered to Mirelda.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Merv's to be punished,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Malicious little troll. Punished how? Whipped?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda shook her head. \"He's not a—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not now, children,\" Autumn said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had arrived in a conservatory of sorts, with windows made from panes of Erinthian lava glass and a large shelf of potted herbs in its brightest corner.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cabinets of books and scrolls lined the walls, alternating with shelves of powders kept in jars.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "A mosquito net hung over the middle of the room, draped in a dainty tent over a wide writing table.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two others hung from the ceiling, limp as shrouds.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Put her there,\" Autumn ordered the men carrying Zita, who laid her down, sheet and all, on the floor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They arranged the mosquito nets around her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mirelda, is there a leech kit already made?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, but we have everything.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll want some of the leeches.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda promptly went to one of the cabinets, fetching out a small wooden bowl and a paddle.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Use whitestone,\" Autumn corrected, not unkindly, and Mirelda made the switch.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She slipped inside the netting around Zita and—to Sophie's surprise—without quailing went looking for a leech that Sophie and Mervin hadn't yet scorched.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Check her head,\" Sophie advised.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda immediately came upon one of the gastropods, blood-gorged and entangled in Zita's hair.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A second, behind her ear, was even bigger.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She transferred them both to the bowl.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly emerged from another part of the house with a scrap of paper.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He handed it to Autumn. \"Zita's name.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Anything I should know about?\" the spellscribe asked.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She had her teeth straightened when she was nine.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She can bear a major intention, then.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She's a duelist,\" Cly said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She's young yet for such a heavy load.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Autumn was looking at scrolls now, examining each.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If it was just the blood loss, we might transfuse, but leech sickness, with a foreigner...\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We will transfuse. Just prevent the infection. And speaking of which, Mervin has forfeited his immunity to the creatures.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The family spells are there.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Autumn gestured at a cabinet she'd opened earlier.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll find it.\" Sophie hopped up, trying to look nonchalant, and opened the cupboard.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were envelopes and rolled scrolls and sealed boxes, all wrapped in one way or another.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had imagined they would be labeled—and they were, but not in Fleet.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were spells for Mirelda and Mervin, for Fenn and her husband, even one for Beatrice, written on an ivory parasol.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly, too—a thick accordion of a spell, sealed with wax.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "One word on that label did look familiar: TEMPERAMENT, it said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Find it?\" Cly purred.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie held out two scrolls with Mervin's name on them.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He plucked one from her grasp.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you wish to come downstairs?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If Autumn doesn't mind, I'd like to stay.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"For Zita or to observe?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Um, both.\" She felt herself coloring. \"If it's okay.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Autumn doesn't notice anything when she's working,\" Mirelda said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We could play a double-harp.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cly tapped at her camera.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't enpicture Zita's full name. It's the key to enchanting her.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I remember.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "With that, he stalked away.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie watched him go, then looked around the room.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Autumn and Mirelda were focused on Zita.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "On impulse, she transferred the spell with Cly's name on it to an unlocked drawer, farther down within the cabinet, before relocking the cabinet securely and then taking a position where she could film the inscription process.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Autumn had laid out a series of herbs and begun grinding them between two black and white flecked pieces of granite.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda was watching from a quiet corner, alert for orders, like a nurse assisting a surgeon.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie joined her, turning on her camera and taking footage of Zita—the leech marks, the burned leeches.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then she made a quick turn around Autumn, who was examining a pristine-looking pair of ostrich feathers, seeming to weigh which would best suit her purposes.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She did indeed seem oblivious to Sophie and the camera.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The spell itself will be written on calfskin,\" Mirelda murmured as she returned.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What is that object, cousin?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie answered as Parrish had taught her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Atomist gadgetry from the outlands.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh.\" Mirelda lost interest, as most people did, but she sounded a little disappointed.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So...\" Sophie switched into interview mode.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You know a lot about scribing?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A mix of pride and shame crossed the teen's face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mervin's right—I don't deserve to be taught. I'd be a waste of resources; I don't have the makings of a scribe.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Autumn seems to think differently.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shook her head.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There are many ways to be of use to the institute. I'll be an assistant.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It seemed harsh to deny her the chance.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But you understand the principles?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Autumn was mixing the ink now.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her expression was serene.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Much of what Mirelda told her next was stuff she had already seen in action: you had to know the subject's whole name, you had to write just the right words on the right material, using the ingredients precisely defined by the spell's precedents and nature.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They called it laying an intention on someone.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Intentions had weight and one could only bear so much.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's why Autumn wanted to know what else Zita had done to her.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mirelda nodded.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cly's going to tear up Mervin's immunity to leeches... so he won't be impervious anymore.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He was a sickly child,\" Mirelda said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mother had it done, just in case. He shouldn't get leech sickness from the spell's reversion.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If he does, will he die?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No. He's stronger now, and he eats swamp food. It's really just foreigners who die, those who get lots of bites.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She gestured at Zita, whose wounds were already looking festery.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'd be surprised if he so much as fevers up. May I ask you a question, Cousin?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie made a go-ahead gesture.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beatrice is Verdanii. A Feliachild.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yep.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not you?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I repudiated Verdanii citizenship.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And now I'm blowing off Sylvanna.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The Feliachilds are said to be one of the ancient branches of the Allmother's line.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Um. Maybe?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The nine families, then, they're a myth?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gently she said, \"Mirelda, all I know about the Verdanii is they're in what used to be the grain belt and their culture is institutionally biased in favor of women. I haven't a clue what you're talking about.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mirelda paused. \"The nine families are said to practice an older form of magic. Wordless, irreversible, beyond inscription—and each family has its own knack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's news to me.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she thought of Aunt Gale, fumbling that odd-looking brass watch just before the first time Sophie found herself in Stormwrack.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Or Verena, with her pewter clock.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There's the way she always takes us from and to clocks—the great tower on Erinth, the grandfather clock at Beatrice's San Francisco home, the one in Gale's old cabin on Nightjar....", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You do know something.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd promised not to tell anyone here about Earth.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is this something you're thinking you could learn? Since you've less aptitude for...\" She indicated Autumn, who was busily scribbling.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Would it be possible?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hope bloomed on the girl's face.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'd heard abilities ran in families, through the Allmother's blood tree. Mother to daughter. Isn't that why Arpere permitted Cly's marriage in the first place?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is it indeed?\" Her thoughts raced.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mother to daughter, inherited magic—this is part of why everyone was so hung up on my being Gale's heir, and it's why they're so freaked out about me learning too much.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What if they're afraid they can't keep me out of Stormwrack?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "This could be why Annela jumped on the chance to have me repudiate Verdanii.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And why she kept threatening me with magical amnesia.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sophie?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sorry, Mirelda. Thinking hard. I wish I had answers for you.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "And Cly. If what Mirelda just said is true... could he have chosen Beatrice because of her family connections?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She moved to get Zita back into the shot.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The festery, red look of her weals was washing out as Autumn worked on inscribing the calfskin; they were pursing shut, like little mouths, becoming mere wrinkles on her flesh that, in their turn, also vanished.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Autumn set down her pen.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mirelda, go see if your uncle has summoned a blood donor.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The girl bowed and left.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie was still humming with that sense of discovery, of pieces snapping together.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought of Gale's watch, tucked away on a shelf at Bram's place.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Magical amnesia, she reminded herself.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She would have to tread carefully.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cly appeared in the doorway with a big, soft-looking fellow in tow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He gestured, and the man knelt beside Zita, chafing her wrists and the insides of her elbow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he laid the flat of his enormous hand against her chest.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie leapt up, bringing the camera as close as she could.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "The man's palm had darkened, the skin mottling to a wine-colored blush, and she could see an impression of red wetness in the join between his flesh and Zita's, as if it was soaked there.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Want a look?\" The man raised his palm carefully, about an inch above her skin.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rivulets of blood, thin as twigs, were twisting against Zita's flesh.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were no visible breaks in his skin or hers, but Zita's color was returning.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How do you know your blood type is compatible?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's the family business,\" he replied.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My mother's mother's mother was a giver, and my fathers going back six generations. I have papers from my nation, Gittamot. We provide givers to all of Stormwrack.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So you know you can donate, and you only marry people who are also donors?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Only bear children with them.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But you don't actually know how many blood types there are, or—\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are two. Giver and not.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's more than two,\" Sophie said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "But if all the givers were type O negative, they could donate to anyone, whether they were A, B, or AB, positive or negative.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We follow strict sanguinistic procedures. Here.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He extended his free hand, pointing at her with his index finger.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She filmed it as a little whirl of blood extended outward from the tip.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie held out her hand, palm up, in the video frame.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No guts, no glory.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Marvelous sentiment,\" Cly murmured.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Small pinch,\" said the donor.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She felt it, as the blood spout made contact, a quick painful jab.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The little thread whirled around on her palm, which pinkened.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could just feel a sense of increased pressure there.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then the donor closed that fist, withdrawing the spout.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "There wasn't a mark on her palm.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's incredible!\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I thank you, Kir.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He turned to Zita, whose color had about returned to normal.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She's out of danger. And ready for a proper bed, I think.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sophie,\" Cly said. She climbed to her feet and let him draw her off to a corner.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"First, you deserve multiple apologies for my awful family.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're not responsible for Mervin's actions.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am, actually, in law. But what I wish to say is thank you. For helping Zita. You acted quickly. I so admire your cool head.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't quite crush a swell of pride. \"No problem.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I also wondered if you might like to meet someone more... compatible with your inclinations.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Meaning?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Some faint proof that some of my countrymen aren't... how did you put it? Malicious trolls?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You overheard that?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It had the inestimable ring of truth.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Note to self: keep lips buttoned, she thought.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she heard Bram's voice: Yeah, Ducks, when have you ever managed that?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mirelda seems like an okay person,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "He gave her a look that seemed to say: Who?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There's a fellow who's interested in your thoughts on the turtles. I recognize it's been a long day....\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had been, hadn't it?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perhaps more for him than her: he looked tired and strained.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And, maybe, more likely to slip up?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She hadn't seen any behavior that absolutely argued that he was or wasn't sociopathic.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If she and Cly were away, Fenn and her family could lick their wounds in private for a while.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Should I change?\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"One of those sporty outfits?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded. \"That would be very... yes. Thank you. I'll show you to your room.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her room looked out over the apiaries and the hillside, a view terminating in the green jewel of a swamp.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was no lava glass here: the screen was made of a silk so sheer it was almost transparent.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The breeze shivered the strands.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bed was covered in a russet, leaf-shaped blanket and the walls held more of her grandmother's oil paintings.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "It had an odd atmosphere: not quite tense or impersonal, but somehow far from cozy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll be out in a second,\" she said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At your leisure,\" he replied, shutting the door.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie pulled off her swamp- and sweat-soaked T-shirt and then opened her trunk, digging out her messageply sheets from Bram and Verena.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Verena: ARRIVING SYLVANNA TOMORROW.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CAN YOU HOLD IT TOGETHER FOR ONE MORE DAY?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bram: WITH VERENA, COMING TO FIND YOU.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING TO THE PARENTS.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stared at Bram's message in mixed delight—she missed him!—and consternation.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Last time he'd been on Stormwrack he'd gotten kidnapped; the pirates had hurt him.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "They formed the Fleet to stop that kind of thing, Zita had said.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Held their noses over the slavery so they could stop the raids and torture.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A tap at her door.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie? Should we bring your memorician?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No. You and I need to talk, Cly.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She yanked open her bag, found a protein bar, devoured it, and pocketed another.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We can send Krispos ahead if you think we'll need him.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I should be okay. Let him read.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram, coming back to Stormwrack.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She inhaled, fighting the whirl of her emotions: excitement, joy, relief, and more than a little fear.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What if he got kidnapped again, or hurt? Or killed?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Well, the answer was to get herself and him back home, pronto.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If she didn't come to Stormwrack, neither would he.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "If he didn't come, they'd both be safe.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Because that was the answer, wasn't it?", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was all very well to maunder on about the cost to herself of living, even part-time, in this other world, but she couldn't keep risking Bram's life.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She would have to give it up somehow.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Which meant, suddenly, she had a pile of things to sort out.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She grabbed the turtle case file and her own notes, changed hastily, and ran a brush through her hair.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Okay. Agenda item one—see what Cly knew about the Verdanii succession and spellcasting.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Item two—the Turtle Beach guy.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Item three—finish seeing Sylvanna, free Beatrice, then hook up with Parrish and Bram and Verena.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Finally, get herself and her brother the hell out of here before she ran out of K bars.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Could she do all that in a few days?", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd have to try.", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentence.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sophie?\"\n\n\"Ready,\" she called, running out.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Mode:\nCo-writing a segment of a larger work\n\nLength:\none hundred and five sentences\n\nStyle:\nA. M. Dellamonica\nGenre:\nfantasy, pirates, romance\nNote: Characters may be pre-established", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rees Erminne was one of those people she couldn't help liking. Tanned, blocky of body and ever-so-slightly ill-kempt, with patched trousers, leech-scarred hands, and an unhurried, friendly air, he exuded a slow-moving calm that put Sophie in mind of a koala bear. He adored his horse. He listened to Sophie with care—and not only because his Fleetspeak was only just passable. It was apparent, as they all continued to ride toward the beach, that he knew every inch of wild land within this corner of Autumn District.\n\nAccording to his status sash, he was legally a child, though he had to be in his late twenties.\n\nAs he led Cly and Sophie down the trail to Turtle Beach, Rees explained about the dispute with Grimreef over whether the turtles had been artificially introduced to Sylvanna.\n\nSophie had already read this in the court documents: Grimreef insisted the turtles always returned to the beach where they had hatched to lay their eggs. The Sylvanners, meanwhile, said the animals went to and fro between the two beaches.\n\n\"It's all rather 'Does not, does too!'\" Erminne acknowledged. \"Like many of these affairs: hard to prove and not quite worth dueling over.\"\n\n\"Sylvanna seems to have a fair number of those,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"The Spellscrip Institute is aggressive in pursuing new inscriptions. It leads them down legally complex paths. I'd be grateful for any solution you may propose.\"\n\nSophie handed him one of the turtle shells Cly had given her, pointing out the notches she'd cut into its cervical scute. \"You can make marks safely here and here, without hurting the animal.\"\n\nErminne fingered the shell with interest. \"And then?\"\n\n\"The rest is basic observation and recording. Form a team. Some from Sylvanna, some from Grimreef, maybe a court observer or some other neutral party?\" It all seemed straightforward, obvious, but Rees was spellbound, listening as though the idea were revolutionary. \"You start notching the Sylvanna turtles when they return to the beach, after they lay. You notch a number of the hatchlings, too, when they emerge every spring. Do the same, using different markings, on Grimreef.\"\n\n\"Oh! One notch for Turtle Beach in Sylvanna, two for Goldensands in Grimreef, that sort of thing?\"\n\nSophie nodded. \"At that point, it simply becomes a matter of observation and bookkeeping. Each year when they arrive on the beach, you do a count and mark a few more animals.\"\n\nErminne thought it through and then nodded. \"We'd have to hurry to organize it for this year. The lay is soon.\"\n\n\"As a secondary strategy we—I mean you—could also try relocating a clutch of eggs to a new beach,\" Sophie said. \"If the Grimreefers are right, you'll be able to establish them elsewhere.\"\n\n\"They're not!\" He feigned affront, puffing out his chest. It was a bit adorable.\n\n\"It's not a good idea to go introducing new animals into other microclimates anyway. But if Sylvanna's in the right, the babies hatched on Turtle Beach will turn up on Grimreef... how long does it take them to mature?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know. How does one work out such things, as a... was it a Fornsich?\"\n\n\"Forensic. It means—\"\n\n\"Forensic practitioner,\" Cly interrupted. \"The science of proof in court.\"\n\nGuess we've got that branded, then. Call the trademark office!\n\nThey were on the beach now, having ridden out of the marshy lowlands and up an outcropping of stone that extended a long finger into the ocean. The water caressed a wide strip of coarse-grained sand, reddish in color, rather like crushed brick, she thought. Stubby breakers of the red rock had been arranged about fifty feet out into the shallows, forming a dotted line around the beach.\n\nBeyond them, she could see the shallow expanse of water that separated Sylvanna from Haversham. A stout-looking, armored ship patrolled in the distance. The passage was broken by craggy islets and piles of boulders that looked man-made, a hazardous obstacle course guarded by fast-looking warships.\n\nTurning in a circle, she looked up and down the spit of land, spying a platform just up the rise with a view of the Butcher's Baste. Guard tower? A lighthouse? Probably both.\n\n\"The turtles don't need much help, but this calms the waters a little,\" Erminne explained, drawing her attention back to the circle of wave-breakers at the beach's edge. \"Sometimes it can keep the late autumn storms from laying waste to a whole year's hatchlings. The institute will send apprentices to rake the sand in about two weeks. Makes it easier for them to dig.\"\n\n\"The beach is entirely managed?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nIt made sense, if the turtles were a precious resource. She asked a bunch of questions: How many turtles did the institute harvest each year, and what kind of predation did the young turtles face? How precisely could they predict the dates for migration to the beach and for hatching?\n\nBy way of answering the last, Rees took her to the base of the guard tower. A large rock there had dates of past migrations scratched into its surface. A scrap of repurposed sail canvas hung above this. It was a poster, and chalked on it were gambling odds on two-hour periods over a four-night window due to start in a few weeks.\n\n\"You run a betting pool on when the migration will begin?\"\n\n\"Don't laugh,\" Rees said. \"It's one of my primary sources of income.\"\n\nShe took a photograph of the rock and the poster. \"So... you think the third day?\" She tried converting the information to normal dates from the Fleet calendar. About a month, then—mid-August.\n\nBy then I'll be home. \"Do you use the land for anything else?\"\n\n\"Spring picnics,\" Erminne said, his fondness for the place obvious in his smile.\n\nWhile they talked, Cly had dismounted, rolled up his trouser legs and shed his boots, and waded into the shallows with a foxy expression on his face and a net in his hand. He made a few scoops at something—once she even saw it, a slick gray shape leaping out of the net's embrace—but came up empty.\n\n\"If this works, you'll have done the institute and my family a great favor,\" Erminne said.\n\nI'm always doing science favors for people here, she thought. It was a pleasing idea, in its way. \"Your family?\"\n\n\"My great-great-grandfather painted this beach, over a century ago, turtles and all. The pictures have been locked up in court for decades—the Grimreefers say we forged them, but nobody can prove it.\"\n\nShe remembered seeing this in the documents. \"Cly says my grandmother painted.\"\n\n\"It's a common pastime among the idle landowners,\" he said, and suddenly his tone was a little careful. Excluding himself from that category, somehow? He certainly didn't have the pampered look of Cly's cousins; looking at him, it was obvious he worked hard at something.\n\nSo he's land rich but otherwise poor—which is probably why he's not married. Turtle gambling must not yield that much income.\n\n\"I'll be interested to hear how the case turns out,\" she said.\n\n\"I'll write you,\" he replied. \"Care of His Honor, as is proper.\"\n\nThat torn feeling again. What am I going to do?\n\nShe couldn't stay, she told herself. Bram coming after her was the last straw. She couldn't let her obsession with Stormwrack deprive their parents of both children.\n\n\"Have you made any progress with the throttlevine infestation? I know that must be as dear to your heart as to—\" Erminne broke off, clearly noting that Sophie had stiffened. Cly turned his back, taking a futile swipe at the fish he was pursuing. \"I've said something amiss.\"\n\n\"Sophie and I have been grappling with our cultural differences,\" Cly said, his voice carrying over the water. \"No harm done.\"\n\nSophie was trying to swallow. The image of those altered goat-people in the marsh had seized her imagination again, and she was flailing in a sea of guilt. To feel regret of any kind for a backward asshole place where one person could do that to another...\n\nShe made herself speak. \"It's okay, Kir Erminne. You couldn't know.\"\n\nShe unshipped her camera and took footage of the beach, walking off in the direction of the water, examining shells and a feather, coral in color, that had fallen on a dry patch of sand. She stared at the sea, longing for the comfort and clarity afforded by a good swim.\n\nAll this time here and I've barely been in the water.\n\nJust then Cly folded his net, wrung out the water, and came in. \"Shall we?\"\n\nThey waited as he rolled down his pants legs, then mounted up and headed back.\n\nShe was starting to feel the effects of a day spent on horseback, an ache in her thighs and knees.\n\n\"This is my path.\" Erminne reached over and seized her hand. \"We will see you, won't we, at the festival? If you're to save my grandfather's paintings and restore the honor of our family beach, I wish to introduce you to my mother.\"\n\n\"I've given my word that I'll go,\" she said, dully.\n\nIt wasn't quite the answer he was expecting, but he rallied. \"Tomorrow, then.\" He flourished without bowing, turned his horse, bent to kiss its neck and speak a few words in its ear.", "loss": true } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "WRITING ASSIST:\n146 sentences sentences\nStyle: A. M. Dellamonica\nGenre: fantasy, pirates, romance\nContext: Part of larger work", "loss": null }, { "from": "system", "value": "Produce a starting prompt please.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She retreated to her room, staring around blankly until it occurred to her that she could pack, and then went into a frenzy of shoving things into her bags, getting everything stowed so she could make her escape.\n\nHe wouldn't, would he? I must have misunderstood.\n\nIt tracked with him hauling her out to meet Rees yesterday. Wait—she had picked the turtle case herself.\n\nMaybe all of the lawsuits he'd given her were connected to eligible young men.\n\nShe had everything packed and repacked, the bed made, and she'd even dusted by the time Mirelda and Zita showed up, carrying a disco-era ball gown, in rich brown silk, in a paper-wrapped package.\n\nZita was in full dress uniform, sword and all, and her foreigner's sash had a new pin—a carved impression of a woman's face, bound with red ribbon.\n\n\"His Honor recalled that I'm inclined to women,\" she said, when she saw Sophie looking at it. \"I told him I don't mind dancing with whoever asks, but—\"\n\n\"But he got you a lesbian badge of honor anyway?\"\n\n\"It was thoughtful of him, wasn't it?\" As always, there was that little bit of a pitch there: Take it easy on Cly, Zophie, Cly rocks. He'd picked her a nice friend who just happened to be head of the Team Cly cheerleading squad. If that wasn't manipulative, what was?\n\n\"You look very dashing,\" Sophie replied.\n\nMirelda's dress was a more shapeless version of Sophie's, also brown, with white gloves and shoes to match her little-girl sash. The pair of them helped Sophie into the ball gown. Zita cast a covetous eye over Sophie's bra.\n\nDid I really think I wanted to move to a world with Age of Sail technology?\n\nSince her hair was short and curly anyway, all they did with it was give her a wreath of orange daisy-like flowers—osteopurnum or something like it.\n\nThe foreigner's sash with its one adornment hung like a beauty contestant's sash across her chest. Mirelda gathered the slack at her hip clumsily, pulling it into something like a rose.\n\n\"Your papers,\" she said. The Bram pages on her desk were filling with text.\n\n> SOFE, WE HAVE DOCKED IN AUTUMN CITY AND PARRISH IS ARRANGING FOR A CARRIAGE. CLY SENT INVITES TO US ALL FOR THE BASH; THE IMPLICATION IS THE DRIVER WILL TAKE US TO YOU, WHEREVER YOU ARE. UNLESS YOU WANT TO MAKE A BREAK FOR IT... :)\n\nEmoticons, she thought. So cute.\n\n> NO, she scrawled, also in English. IF I CAN JUST GET THROUGH TONIGHT, BEATRICE GETS HER BAIL.\n\n\"Powder?\" Mirelda said. She was holding out a pot of pinkish... blush?\n\n\"What's that for?\"\n\n\"You're quite tan. It's not genteel.\"\n\n\"No powder, then.\"\n\n\"You have an answer,\" Zita said.\n\nShe glanced at the reply from Bram. WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT?\n\n> ME GETTING THROUGH? Sophie wrote. DIMINISHING.\n\nNew handwriting—Verena. She imagined them together in Nightjar's galley, bent over a page. SOPHIE, BEHAVE.\n\n> TRYING, OMG, I SWEAR, TRYING.\n\nMirelda took a swipe at her with the blush.\n\nSophie gently pushed her hands away. \"Listen, I'm not gonna pass for a genteel Sylvanner anything. Or a woman of the Fleet, for that matter.\"\n\n\"No,\" they agreed, Zita with humor, Mirelda with a touch of anxiety.\n\n\"If Cly doesn't like the image I present, he can park me in a dark corner.\"\n\n\"Nonsense.\" Cly's voice came through the door, followed by a knock.\n\n\"Come on in,\" Sophie said, opening it herself.\n\nZita's dress uniform was snazzy. Cly's was just shy of outrageous. The Sylvanner sash was twinned with something that must be judicial—they wound around each other in a braid, ornamented with medallions and ribbons. His red cape, which had gold epaulets, was so impeccably brushed that it glowed.\n\nLike Zita, he wore a sword, a wide-bladed, sharp-looking saber made of stonewood.\n\n\"I find no fault with the way you look,\" he said.\n\nFaint praise, Sophie thought, wondering suddenly if she and her father would get along.\n\n\"You look like the king of something,\" she said.\n\n\"You're too kind.\"\n\nShe folded her texting papers and tucked them into her questions notebook—and saw Cly noting that she'd packed as she did.\n\n\"Girls, please wait for us on the porch,\" he said, and Zita and Mirelda made themselves scarce.\n\n\"So,\" she asked. \"What's the program tonight?\"\n\nHe held up two new stickpins. \"This is a sage designation. It represents intellectual achievement. Your... Master's degree, you called it?\" It looked vaguely like a protractor. \"The second is a nonspecific indicator of dietary restrictions. You may continue your hunger strike after all, if you choose.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" she said.\n\n\"The program, as you say, is merely to mingle. This is Autumn District in the height of the summer festival—it's not our time, so we celebrate the ascendancy of the people in the next district. We laud the summerborn and the nearly grown.\"\n\n\"And other than that it's walk around, chitchat over canapés, listen to the band, try not to get wasted.\"\n\n\"Children don't drink at functions.\"\n\n\"Not a child, remember?\"\n\n\"See if you can manage to get through this evening without acting like one.\"\n\nThey glared at each other over the pins until he handed them over and stalked out without giving her a chance to ask if he was selling her in marital bondage to Rees Erminne.\n\nWhich was ridiculous, or even paranoid, because he wasn't. Reassurance would have been nice, but it wasn't necessary.\n\nAsk him now, she told herself, following him out. But he'd vanished deeper into the house.\n\nMirelda was calling her. \"Our carriage is here!\"\n\nThe object pulling up to the gate, horse-drawn, of course, had to be a low wagon, but it was decked out like a parade float. A flowing fabric cover, pink and ruffled, concealed a little ramp up to the wagon in back. A half-dozen dressed-up Sylvanners and a mandolin player were already aboard.\n\n\"Let's go,\" Mirelda said, tugging Sophie along. Mervin and his parents were making their way toward the float.\n\nSophie balked. \"Just us?\"\n\n\"Cousin Clydon and Tenner Zita ride on the Fleet display.\"\n\nOne last hoop to jump. Sophie thought of her bags, packed and ready to go so that all anyone... any slave would have to do was haul the stuff onto whatever ride brought her back to Nightjar.\n\nThe thought of the ship worked its usual magic; she felt her spirits lifting. \"Okay, let's do this.\"\n\nThey rushed down Low Bann's long drive and—Mirelda took her hand—up to the float. It smelled of roses and the horses pulling it were a creamy white color. Lippizaners? Sophie wondered: Could a show breed have survived, if the two worlds were somehow the same?\n\nAnnela had told Cly that Stormwrack was a future version of Erstwhile. Which implied something would happen to turn her world into this one.\n\nThen she was on a platform with Cousin Fenn and her family. There were six or so neighbors from someplace called Low Frake.\n\n\"This is Clydon's daughter,\" Cousin Fenn told them. \"The outlander.\"\n\n\"But Verdanii?\" one of them asked.\n\n\"No,\" Sophie said. \"Total savage.\"\n\nOkay, Sofe, you promised to try for Beatrice's sake.\n\nWhat do I owe Beatrice again? I'm doing this for Verena.\n\nNot to impress a certain someone else?\n\nShut up, random voice.\n\nThe float was part of a real parade—as they rode east, toward Turtle Beach and Erminne's estate, the slaves came out to line the road and quietly wave at the landowners, who were throwing small coins to them.\n\nThey passed three of the women whom Sophie had encountered in the kitchen on the way to get Zita her water. The blonde who'd been crying was there, staring defiantly. She locked eyes with Mirelda.\n\nSophie felt curiosity stir. Then she saw kids, eight of them, little ones with tiny bangles on their wrists, and she forgot everything except I'm going to be sick.\n\n\"Sit,\" Fenn said, pushing her toward a bench. \"Breathe.\"\n\nSophie raised her head and glowered.\n\n\"I know our ways must seem—\"\n\n\"I'm so totally sure you don't want to finish that sentence,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Beatrice felt as you did,\" Fenn said. \"I think she loved Cly sincerely enough until they came home.\"\n\nShe imagined Beatrice in the middle of one of her epic freak-outs, shrieking about the slaves. Somehow it seemed perfectly appropriate.\n\nFenn shrugged. \"Well, we're on Erminne land now. They're radicals.\"\n\n\"They don't—?\"\n\n\"Erminne's father freed them all on his marrying day—it's an old custom. The estate's gone to ruin since. Why do you think they need their art collection so badly?\"\n\n\"Radicals. Abolitionists?\"\n\n\"Sophie, you must see that if you pull your father in that direction, it will ruin us all.\"\n\n\"Like Cly would ever consider ditching his vine-munching goat transforms, let alone whoever dumps his chamberpot.\"\n\n\"Does he care if we're reduced to poverty? He lives asea—he's got a Fleet pension. And any alliance with the Erminne... well, Fralienne would insist.\" She brightened. \"But you've got a point. As long as the lowlands are infested with throttlevine, the government would forbid his divesting.\"\n\n\"You're serious.\" Sophie gaped at Fenn. \"You think he's gonna set up an engagement, and then... no more slaves on Low Bann?\"\n\nHe had asked: What would you have me do?\n\n\"There are many reasons why expanding Low Bann eastward would be beneficial, I grant you. The Erminne estate is a desirable property.\"\n\n\"But not without an unpaid workforce, am I right?\"\n\n\"Precisely.\" A puzzled half smile from Fenn.\n\n\"So he marries me to Rees Erminne and frees all the people on Low Bann and throws your lives into upheaval... for what? So I can get along with him? Could he want my approval that badly? He can't think getting me hitched is the way.\"\n\nFenn had listened to all of this with a tiny frown. Now she said, \"Your approval would hardly be an issue. Our young do as they're told or they're scripped to obey.\"\n\nSophie drew a long, slow breath, stunned. She'd expected Fenn to agree with her, to say an arranged marriage was impossible.\n\n\"He knows your name, does he not?\"\n\n\"No.\" Sophie's voice was small. \"Cly's not stupid. Anyway, he wants me to be—\"\n\n\"To be what? Half Feliachild? Potentially useful, I'd agree, if you hadn't thrown that bit of your heritage on the midden. A temperamente spell wouldn't damage your outlander education, if that's what he's looking to exploit. If you were bound to Rees he could leave him here, charged, I suppose, with running both estates into poverty. He could take you and—\"\n\nShe remembered Beatrice's letter: He wants something, and it won't be good.\n\n\"He wouldn't,\" she said again. There was something she'd missed here.\n\n\"There's nothing he wouldn't do. Getting his way is what he does. Convince him an alliance won't work, Sophie. Failing that, convince the Erminnes.\" With that, Fenn stepped back to the edge of the float, drawing a confused-looking Mirelda with her.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie reached for the calm she felt on dives or when climbing, when things went wrong. That focus that made the difference between getting everyone back safe or coming home broken... or not at all.\n\nNothing. Her mind churned. Bram, you'd better get here quick.\n\nThey'd arrived at the Erminne estate, and Rees and his mother were climbing aboard the float now. Their house did look ramshackle. Wet climate, constant maintenance, Sophie thought. The roof was patched; the paving stones were uneven.\n\n\"It's nice to see you again,\" Rees said. He'd combed his hair; the outfit he wore, unlike the one she'd seen earlier, was in good shape—minimally worn, without visible repairs.\n\nShe shook her head, trying to provide a polite answer but too freaked out to muster any courtesy. He took the hint, moving to the edge of the float. He and his mother had coins to throw but there was nobody lining this stretch of road.\n\nCuriosity, ever the traitor, stirred. What was it like to be an abolitionist here?\n\nShe took a close look at Fralienne Erminne. She looked about thirty-five—which must be affected by magic, Sophie supposed. Curl your hair, straighten your hair, hide a few wrinkles. This evening, as this morning, she was heavily powdered.\n\nTanning's not genteel, she remembered.\n\nShe wore gloves, as Mirelda did, but they were longer, and as Sophie watched she saw Fralienne tug at them, fiddling.\n\nShe imitated the motion subconsciously, thinking, If her skin's dry—if she works, if she's calloused, then the fabric of the gloves might snag on the dry bits of skin.\n\nShe was fitter than Fenn—she had real shoulders and gave no impression of softness. Unlike her son, who emanated a sort of smart but pleasant harmlessness, she was visibly worn.\n\nThey rode past two more \"normal\" estates and the others went back to flinging coins at the slaves who lined the roads, Fenn and some of the others casting disapproving glances at the small copper coins tossed by the Erminnes. All they can afford, Sophie deduced.\n\nStarting up a series of switchbacks, they merged into a longer line of floats, all flower-covered and impressively ornate. There were fake, petal-clad trees, a giant, nesting flamingo, a sperm whale, a representation of the setting sun, and more than one sailing vessel.\n\nAboard the floats were more families, women dressed in flared skirts and fitted tops, all wearing the colors of fall leaves and harvest. The floats bearing betrothed couples were the most elaborate, the engaged kids themselves all dressed in summer green and garlands of flowers.\n\nAs the floats converged, the musicians aboard began playing the same song, a gentle thing Sophie might have characterized as a reel. People bobbed in time and clapped. Everyone seemed in good spirits.\n\nThey reached the top of the hill, a flattened mountaintop, the sort of thing the ancients would have used as the base for a series of temples. Instead Sophie saw low-slung brick structures, two and three stories high, each of them windowless and round as globes, lying like marbles on a green that was, effectively, a botanical garden and a zoo—trails wound between the buildings, garden beds, and habitats for various animals.\n\nThe central building of the Spellscrip Institute was the biggest sphere of the bunch, and its brickwork glittered with hints of shine, silvery black in color, that Sophie suspected was hematite.\n\nAutumn Spell was standing atop this, clad in what looked like a gold and red body stocking, with long swirls of scarf flowing around her, borne on invisible breezes. She looked down at Sophie; their eyes met and her mouth moved.\n\n\"Welcome, honored guest.\" The words sounded in her ear as if Autumn were standing right beside her.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Sophie managed.\n\nA uniformed slave was waiting to hand her down to the green, but Rees Erminne strode up suddenly, offering his arm. \"There's a corner around the rear gate where the bonded don't serve,\" he said. \"We pariahs socialize there. Will you come?\"\n\nShe weighed the options unhappily and decided she might as well. She could have a tactful word with him about Cly's plan.\n\nIf in fact there is a plan...\n\nFenn confirmed it. How much proof do you need?\n\nUncertainty assailed her. Cly hadn't known her long, but he couldn't possibly think she'd consent to marry some guy she'd known for a day.\n\nShe was working herself up for nothing.\n\nThe young are scripped to obey.\n\nCly said \"betrothal\" and Fenn confirmed it.\n\nHe's not that dumb, he's not. He's socially agile.\n\n\"Thanks,\" she said, choosing Erminne over the butler. Mirelda startled and rushed to follow, making a quick detour to grab a couple sandwiches for herself off a silver tray.\n\nAll the spellscribes were turned out as Autumn was, clad in tight leotards and surrounded by the scarves that preserved their modesty. The air was filled with the scent of cooking stews and something that reminded Sophie of chili. \"This must be a good climate for growing peppers,\" she said, randomly, and Erminne nodded. Five seconds later they rounded a curve in the trail—all the trails were curved, there were no corners here at all, as far as she could see—and there was a pepper garden, enclosed by a low brick wall, containing about ten different species: jalapeños, sweet peppers, bananas, habaneros, and two varieties she didn't recognize.\n\nShe felt Rees chuckle against her at the coincidence.\n\nOkay, I'm not going to freak out. We're not getting married, we're not. Cly isn't planning anything. Observe, she told herself. Whatever you do, don't say the wrong thing. Beatrice's freedom is almost in the bag.\n\n\"How do you get into the buildings?\"\n\n\"Much of the institute is underground,\" he said. \"The entrances to the study spheres are beneath them.\"\n\n\"It's incredible.\" She'd always been a sucker for monument-scale art. Mom and Dad had taken them to the Valley of the Kings and she'd bawled, for sheer joy, when she saw the Great Pyramid. Her father had almost panicked, she'd cried so hard. \"I don't know about practical.\"\n\n\"The institute was constructed in the first days of real Sylvanner wealth; we were showing off.\"\n\n\"Conspicuous consumption.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"They have a certain irresistible charm. And the scribes say it's restful to draft spells in them. Contemplative, you know. Good acoustics.\"\n\n\"I can see why Mirelda would want to work here.\"\n\n\"Each of the institutes is a marvel. One day you'll have a chance to see Winter District's,\" he said. \"Your father has ties there.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I don't see myself coming back to Sylvanna after this is over.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"Ever,\" she said, underlining it just in case.\n\nIf her assertion was bad news, he kept it to himself.\n\nAs they walked, people raised their glasses to them. Erminne responded with an upraised hand and a smile. Another turn brought them to the brick-fenced edge of a perfectly round pool that abutted the edge of one of the smaller, bungalow-size spheres.\n\n\"Alligators,\" he said. \"Do you have them in the outlands?\"\n\nShe nodded, nevertheless peering over. The alligator in question seemed morphologically identical to those she'd seen in Florida; there was no reason to assume there were any differences at all.\n\nA betrothed couple—two boys, as it happened—walked by, hand in hand. They were a little puffed out, like roosters, proud to be adults. They were also maybe fifteen. Erminne's eye lingered on their sashes.\n\nTen years older than them, and Rees isn't married—not an adult, she thought. Because he's an abolitionist? And his mom's a widow, which has to be troublesome, too.\n\nThis is a stupid, stupid society.\n\n\"Sophie,\" he said, \"there's an urgent matter I must discuss with you before you leave.\"\n\nHer anxiety spiked. \"Now?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"At the giraffes.\"\n\n\"You have giraffes?\"\n\nThey rounded another sphere, this one seated in a pond and made entirely of ice, a great circular piece with chill wafting off it, covered in condensation and carved with the images of fish and mermaids. Streams of iced water drizzled off the mermaids' outstretched fingers—Erminne took a cup from a nearby tree and filled them each a drink.\n\nLittle kids frolicked in the shadows around it, squealing when the chilly streams touched them. A shadowy figure moved within the sphere.\n\n\"The icemaker,\" Erminne explained. \"An important profession in this climate.\"\n\n\"They'd be scribed, I guess. Transformed.\"\n\n\"To drive the heat out of things, yes,\" he said. \"It's a complicated spell—has to be written in the depth of a cold night, in total darkness. The transforms have been known to die of exposure. Taking the cold to the marrow, it's called.\"\n\nShe thought of Bram's superhero comics, one of his first rebellions against Dad and the canon of English literature. One of those had an icemaker mutant, didn't it? X-Factor?\n\nShe indicated the glinting, condensation-covered fish. \"Do the icemakers sculpt?\"\n\n\"They make blocks for sculptors. Our most prominent ice shaper, here in Autumn, is married to this maker. It's a great partnership, as all marriages should be.\"\n\n\"While we're on the topic—\"\n\n\"Ah, here we are,\" he said.\n\n\"Here\" was next to a giraffe enclosure, a paddock with three lemon-colored giraffes with garlands of flowers around their necks. The grove around them was planted with acacia and, on this side of the fence, was a convex flower garden, patches of red, yellow, and orange blooms. A table of meats, fruits, and vegetables had been set out next to a bonfire. The idea, obviously, was to skewer yourself a shish kebab and DIY your dinner on the campfire.\n\nAll right. It was time to stop freaking out and find out what was going on. She followed Erminne's lead in spearing a bunch of fruit and meat and let herself be led to the fire. The meat went into the flame with a sizzle. Lamb, she thought, from the smell.\n\n\"Cly's cousin, Fenn, said something about your estates adjoining each other.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Turtle Beach is barely beyond the boundary of His Honor's—\"\n\n\"She seems to think the two of them—your mother and my—\"\n\n\"Your Honor!\"\n\nIt was a warning. Cly was gliding toward them with Fralienne Erminne, arriving at her elbow before they could discuss matters further. \"Finish up,\" he said. \"The feast is beginning. You're all at the Fleet table.\"\n\n\"My meat's too rare,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"It's what you get for presuming to cook. The two of you are getting along?\"\n\n\"Why are you asking that?\"\n\nCly gave her a quick, innocent look she didn't buy at all. \"You've been deducing things again, haven't you?\"\n\nHoly crap, he was smiling.\n\n\"I haven't deduced anything. Fenn is all over telling me what you're up to. She's scared you're going to bankrupt her, and—\"\n\nThe flick. \"Oh, Fenn.\"\n\n\"Don't pish posh me. Are you seriously considering—\" She couldn't say it, just gestured at Erminne and Fralienne.\n\n\"Not this year, obviously.\"\n\n\"Not this year?\"\n\n\"What's going on?\" Erminne said. \"Mother?\"\n\n\"You're not in on it, Rees?\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sophie said. \"You just said we had to talk.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 47 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"About the turtles,\" Erminne said. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Child—\" Fralienne began.\n\n\"Oh, you are unbelievable, Cly.\"\n\n\"I thought you'd be happy,\" Cly said.\n\n\"How could you possibly believe that?\"\n\nHer voice had risen, and people drifted closer. This is the gossip gold mine of the year, I bet.\n\n\"Your lamb is burning.\"\n\nShe pulled the skewer out of the fire, blowing on it furiously.\n\n\"It's true, Rees,\" Fralienne said. \"His Honor and I have been discussing whether next year, come betrothal time, we might entwine Low Bann with our estate.\"\n\n\"Really?\" he said. And then it seemed to sink in. \"Oh. Sophie, before you—I think you've—\"\n\n\"Did he tell you I'm promiscuous?\" She said it loudly, and the whole garden fell silent. You'd think she'd dropped a bomb at their sexually conservative feet.\n\n\"Sophie!\" Erminne said. \"Please.\"\n\nShe was turning bright red, and her voice was shaking, but why stop now? \"No, seriously. We outlander girls? We get around. Practically the first thing I did when I got here was find myself a Tiladene guy. Lais is his name, horse breeder, quite the stallion himself, actually.\" By now, she had that feeling of having climbed way out onto a branch that wouldn't hold her weight.\n\nCommit, commit, commit.\n\n\"Of course, I haven't seen Lais in weeks. But maybe you'd like a go—\"\n\nShe turned, panned the crowd, got a look at Cly's expression of frozen horror—\n\nThat's an emotion, right? Tick in the \"not a sociopath\" column.\n\n—and, behind him, she saw Bram, Verena, and Garland Parrish.\n\nA shocked laugh broke from her—she covered her mouth. \"I'm gonna go hug my brother now,\" she announced, starting for Bram with as much dignity as she had left.\n\nCly seized her arm as she passed. \"Our agreement was that you wouldn't embarrass me.\"\n\n\"Yeah? What agreement did I sign that says I get to be sold into frigging marriage?\"\n\n\"Fralienne and I were discussing the possibility of marrying each other,\" he growled.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHe gave her a little shove in her brother's direction. \"Tell your mother to enjoy incarceration.\"\n\nOh. Sophie's knees buckled and she stumbled past Parrish. Why did they have to bring Parrish?\n\nBram caught her.\n\n\"Well done, Ducks. That was classic.\"\n\n\"You're laughing, you bastard.\"\n\n\"So are you.\"\n\n\"At least I didn't use the word 'slut.'\"\n\n\"That would've been over the top,\" he said. \"Let's get you out of here before they stick you in a convent, okay?\"\n\nThey began the incredibly long walk of shame, out of the Spellscrip Institute, down from the ridge's lofty heights to the port below.", "loss": null } ]

[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue with A. M. Dellamonica's style in the fantasy, pirates, romance genre. This is part of a longer work.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nightjar's sails always had just a hint of pearliness to them, a shine like the inside of an oyster's shell, and in the setting sun of a warm Sylvanna evening, they looked like an oil painting about the romance of the sea. Sophie couldn't help smiling at her first sight of her; she was, she realized, almost hungry to be aboard again.\n\nSylvanner parade floats were making their way uphill to the Spellscrip Institute as she and the others headed down, moving against the flow of traffic.\n\nShe buttonholed Bram as her walking companion, switching to English—it was a relief, after weeks of hearing only Fleetspeak and Sylvanner. Verena and Parrish seemed only too happy to stroll on ahead of them. \"So. Catch me up. Why'd you decide to come?\"\n\n\"Are you kidding? After you said Cly might be sociopathic? Is he, by the way?\"\n\n\"Jury's still out.\"\n\n\"Well, thinking you were off alone with a remorseless killer was more than I could take.\"\n\n\"I'd have done the same.\"\n\n\"Convincing Verena that you and Cly would come to loggerheads and pooch Beatrice's bail after she concealed the slavery thing wasn't hard—\"\n\n\"Funny thing, that's just what happened.\" She fought back the guilt. Cly would hang on to Low Bann now—Sophie signing the birth certificate was enough for that. But Beatrice was back at square one, and it was all her fault.\n\n\"Has it occurred to you that he's maybe been looking for an excuse? He could have told you what was up. People here... sometimes it seems they're bent on hiding their cards. Setting you up to fail.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Someone set me up to fail, all right, but it wasn't him. His cousin saw me jumping to conclusions. She decided to tell me all my paranoid fantasies were justified.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bram frowned. \"Why would anyone do that?\"\n\n\"Revenge, I'm pretty sure. She lost position, her son got into serious trouble with Cly. When I started to freak out she took the chance to stir up trouble.\" She told him about Mervin's prank on Zita and its fallout.\n\nBy now they had arrived at the port. Parrish and Verena broke out of the hush-voiced consultation that had occupied them since they left the festival; then Parrish went on ahead, without a word, to charter a ferry out to Nightjar, leaving the three of them to wait for Sophie's trunks to arrive from Low Bann.\n\nVerena looked miserable. \"Annela's going to have me decapitated.\"\n\n\"We'll try something else,\" Sophie said.\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"We'll give Cly another reason to take his claws out of Beatrice.\"\n\n\"Such as?\"\n\n\"He's a big shot within the Fleet,\" she said slowly, turning over everything she had learned. \"And he loves that. But his position here on Sylvanna is shaky. If we learned something that endangered his reputation as the mighty duelist-advocate, maybe he'd do another deal just to keep from losing everything.\"\n\nVerena's eyes stuttered to Nightjar. \"I don't know if we can get Parrish to agree to extortion.\"\n\n\"Can't you just order him?\" When she'd thought she was Gale's heir, she'd bossed him around all the time.", "loss": true }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No. It turns out Gale left him the ship but asked him to keep sailing me around. He and I have to agree on a course of action.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"It's nice—it's good that she did. I don't want to be his employer.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. But he and Gale used to bribe and blackmail... what, warlords? Didn't they?\"\n\n\"Warlords? Is this an episode of Xena?\" Bram muttered.\n\n\"They did that for the peace, not for personal gain. And I don't think they went actively digging for dirt.\"\n\nSophie wondered if that was true or if Verena had Parrish up on a pedestal. \"Okay. So we tell him there's some hope Cly actually misstepped in his career, and... oh! What if we say we're looking into why he married Beatrice? If it was for false pretenses or something, maybe we can throw the whole marriage contract into question. We can get that lawyer, Mensalom, to look at it and talk to some people who knew him then.\"\n\nVerena weighed it. \"Annela should be willing to choke up the original contract documents. And if there's a way to annul the marriage to Cly, then Beatrice isn't a bigamist. But they must have examined this all those years ago, when she got pregnant.\"\n\n\"Sofe,\" Bram said. \"You've joined team Dad is bad now? He wasn't trying to marry you off, remember?\"\n\nShe felt something stick in her throat. \"It's possible he... I think maybe he screws his slaves.\"\n\nHis eyes widened. \"Okay. Dad is bad. I am so on board. But, jeez, Sofe, are you sure?\"\n\n\"No. What was I gonna do, ask? Anyway, Beatrice is still in this crazy legal tangle and I have to try sorting it out.\"\n\n\"It's gone beyond a tangle. Sylvanna's Convenor has been telling every journalist who'll listen how hard done by their illustrious judge has been.\" Verena threw a rock into the sea.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"After a lifetime of putting the Fleet first, poor Cly's on a spike, expected to rise above while irresponsible Verdanii witches turn his stolen daughter against him.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 18%", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Great.\" No wonder Verena looked miserable. First her mom got jailed, then she had job trouble, and now there was a sprawling family crisis in the news.\n\n\"We'll look into the early days of Beatrice and Cly. If we find anything we can use, that's when we'll worry about any scruples Parrish may have.\" She found herself feeling unaccountably happy. \"It's gonna be okay, guys. The three of us are unstoppable.\"\n\n\"Mmm,\" Verena grunted.\n\nThe harbor was all but deserted; everyone was at festival parties. A few patrol types watched the docks, protecting them from nothing more hazardous than a scattering of opportunistic gulls and the occasional stray dog.\n\nAn hour passed, then another.\n\nFinally her bags arrived. There was more luggage than she'd expected: Cly had apparently sent a big trunk. She cracked it open: all the pseudo-science texts and the accounts of the five legal disputes were in there.\n\nPoor Krispos, she thought, fingering the throttlevine case. I wonder what Cly will do with him?\n\nBy then, Parrish had summoned a harbor ferry and porters to carry them to Nightjar.\n\nThey trooped aboard. Sophie saw Tonio give Parrish an inquiring glance and get a minuscule head shake in return.", "loss": true }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Raise anchor,\" Parrish told him. \"We're Fleet bound.\"", "loss": true }, { "from": "system", "value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.", "loss": null }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sophie's last sight of Sylvanna was the hill that housed the Autumn District Spellscrip Institute. The party was reaching a pitch as the sun went down, and a great glowing image was taking shape over the rise; fireworks enhanced by enchantment forming a single tall tree, green-leaved as befitted the height of summer.", "loss": true } ]