Iknow5/Text_Adventures huggingface dataset:
Despite your fear, you stay put. The pair of feet walks up to you, and you hear the top of the dumpster being opened. Then, it closes, and you hear a dissatisfied, "Nobody over here."


The people struggle to find any of your group, you scattered pretty quickly. As you hide, you make eye contact with Ozzy, who's hidden under an adjacent dumpster. You see fear in his eyes. He's slowly pulling a small gun out of his pocket, and holding eye contact with you.


"Well, well, well. Come out when you're ready, hooligans," the man who led you here says. The other group sits down in the middle of the parking lot, and begins to eat. 


Ozzy slowly makes his way out from under the dumpster, out of sight of the others. You do the same. You sit behind the dumpster and think over your next move.

You help Ozzy attack the group

You look at Ozzy, and point to the other group. He holds up his gun and nods. 


You position yourself behind a dumpster, right next to the leader of the other group. You'll grab him and hold him hostage, so that the others will let you go. You wait until the right moment...


The man decides he needs to get up, and you strike. As soon as he's on his feet, he's on the ground again, with you holding him down. "Nobody move!" You yell.


Sadly, while your plan would have worked, Ozzy wasn't on the same page as you. He fires his gun in an attempt to hit the leader, but instead hits you in the chest, killing you.
You've always kind of wondered what riding in a helicopter would be like. Now you know: boring, with a slight touch of fear of heights.


Finally, Ozzy makes a short announcement. "We're nearing the landing spot." Thank goodness. Suddenly, something starts beeping on the control board. "What's that?" asks Roger.


"We don't have enough to make it there," Ozzy says, with slight fear in his voice. "At this rate, we'll have to walk the last few miles to get to the gas stores, and then take them back on foo-"


Ozzy is interrupted by several metallic noises, like someone is dumping marbles onto the helicopter. "What in the.." says Roger. You look out the window, and are shocked to see a group of people firing at the helicopter.


"Making an emergency landing," says Ozzy. "Brace yourselves." Roger stares out the window in disbelief. "Why the hell are they shooting at us?"


To your surprise, the shooters break into a run and follow the helicopter on its course downward. "We're going to meet them when we land," you say. Matthias and Roger are already arming themselves. "Well then," says Roger. "Let's meet 'em."


When the helicopter plunks down, and the blades whir to a stop, the shooters are ready at the doors. A gravelly voice commands you to come out, unarmed.


"That'll be the day," says Roger. "We aren't doing anything of the sort. Actually, you're the ones who should be running. I'll give you five seconds. Five..."


Five is plenty for them. The shooters open fire, damaging the helicopter's window and hull. The soldiers quickly return fire, but the battle's pretty one-sided. The shooters definitely have the numbers, and the better guns.


"What do you want from us?" asks Roger. This is the first time you're getting a good look at the shooters. They look horrible, dressed in filthy clothing, with generally ugly faces. Not a single one is clean-shaven or looks like they've had a haircut even once. 


"We want your 'copter," grunts one of the shooters. "We can't allow that," says Roger. "We're headed back to Washington. You should come, there are showers, and fresh food, and-"


"NO!" the shooter angrily kicks a rock. "We want the helicopter! And food! And books! And all of it! And guns! And snakes! And cell phones!"


The soldiers look at each other in disbelief. "These people have lost it," whispers Conway. Should you give up what you can, or try to diffuse the situation?

You try to talk to them

"Hey," you say. "Listen. We can't afford to give anything up. Is there a possibility that we could work around this?"


The man holds up his finger, and draws something in the air. Then, he looks at you expectantly. When you don't know how to respond, the man becomes angry. He furiously draws some sort of picture in the air with his finger over and over again.


"What? What is it? What do you want?" you ask. The man finally gets fed up with your incompetence. "WAAATTTTEEERRR!!!!"


"We can't spare, um, any water at the moment," you say, almost afraid that he'll flip his lid. Instead, the man gets quiet. "Follow," he finally says, and begins to walk away.
As these memories flood through your mind, you realize that it doesn't matter what he was.  It just matters what he has become; and that's a murderer.  He would drag the orcish armies into the grave with him, dooming Orcin to an eternity of rule by the Mannate Empire.


Galik laughs insanely as you step forward, and you drive the sword down…


In the last moment, Galik rolls to the side and the sword slams into the dirt.  You pull, but the blade does not budge.


Standing, you cannot do anything before your foe slams into you.  His fingers dig into your shoulder as he draws a dagger from under his shirt.  He grins and chuckles as he lifts the blade up, intent on slamming it into your chest.  The dagger gleaming in the sunlight, showing you your final moments…


Galik brings the knife down, your hand shooting up just in time.  Grunting you twist and wrench the blade from his hand.  Grabbing his shoulder you shove the knife forward into his belly, as it slides through surprisingly easy.  Galik gasps, and his hands grip your shoulders.


You rip the dagger out and slam it back into him, this time some splatter decorating your forearms.  On the third strike, Galik's knees buckle and he falls back, guided by your hand.  As you kneel over him, Galik's hands grip your arms and shoulder.

You stop

As Galik's weak hands clutch onto you, your fingers curl around the dagger tightly.  But you toss it to the side, instead lifting Galik up and cradling him.


"Why did you do this?" you ask.  "Greusim was my friend, I've known you since before you were born.  Why couldn't you just wait for me to come back, we could have handled this together."


A weak grunt passed Galik's lips, and he pulls himself up a bit.


"I'm…sorry…"


The last breath passes between his lips, and his body goes limp.  You sit there, letting out a heavy sigh.  With a grunt, you lift up Galik's body, throwing him over your shoulder.


In front of you stands Grolik, a bloody dagger in his hands.  He nods in understanding and steps to the side as you walk by.


You go down to bury your former friend by the river…
Lifting your knee, you hop forward and act as though you are about to kick Gro'tesk's shin.  He brings one hand down to push your leg away, and in this moment you slam your foot into the ground, lurching forward. 


In the same movement, you reel your fist back and then bolt forward.  Your knuckles hit him straight in the forehead, this is followed by another swift hit right under his eye.


Gro'tesk grunts and staggers back.  With a mighty roar he charges you, slamming one punch into your chest. 


"Oof!"


The blow knocks the wind out of you, throwing you to the ground.  Chief Gro'tesk savagely lands a quick kick to your face.  Reeling to the side you land face first in the dirt, the heavy pounding of his feet stopping as he lifts his foot again.

You knock Out

Rolling to the side, his foot smashes into the ground inches away from your head.  Pulling your foot back, you shout as you slam it into Gro'tesk's knee.  As his knee pushes in, he cries out and falls forward, catching himself with his hands. 


You push yourself up into a crouch as you run forward, reeling your fist back.  But you lose your balance and skid forward.  Fortunately, you use the momentum to plant your fist into the side of his head.  He grunts as the full force of your attack hits him, his head snapping to the side and his body twisting.


He lays still, and you crawl backward, just in case….


But he just lays on the ground.  All of the onlookers gasp, never having seen their mighty chief get knocked out cold.  You stand up and dust yourself off, and just right after the chief rolls over onto his back.


Rubbing his face and sitting up he looks at you, still dazed.


"I win.",


He stares at you blankly for a moment.


"Fine!"


With the help of a couple of onlookers, he stands up and stumbles his way over to his hut, rubbing his head as he tries to figure out how he could have lost.


You smirk and follow him in to give him your terms.
Fists raised, you step to the side, constantly circling your foe.  Gro'tesk does likewise, a sadistic grin spread across his face. 


With a huff you step forward, your fist twisting as the arm propels it forward.  Gro'tesk's cheek ripples and his head turns as he moves with the punch.  At the same time his fist flies, you manage to knock it away.


Ducking under, you slam your left fist into his ribs and come back up slamming into his jaw.


Gro'tesk staggers back, bewildered at your speed.  Although you are quite a large orc, he is bigger than you.


He throws a backhand, which hits your defending arm.  As he brings it back, he sends his other fist forward, which you manage to parry.  But, in your rush, you accidentally lower your right arm a bit too far…


As it connects a quick flash of dark splits through your vision, but only for a brief moment.  As you stagger back, a pain shoots through your jaw.  Managing to duck another blow, you push your opponent back, a move he was not expecting.


As you try to regain your ground, you feel a fuzziness spreading throughout your head.  Getting punched sucks. 


As you step forward, you consider your next move…

You swift Punch

Keeping your elbows tucked in, you send out several punches.  The first three land well, hitting Gro'tesk's face.  The next two don't go so well.  As your foe dodges the next, you lose form and go wide with your fifth punch, and he easily sees it coming. 


He actually manages to catch your fist, twisting your arm to the side with one hand.  As you bring your left arm up to defend your face, his large fist slips in under it.  Your head kicks back as you feel the pain ripple through your mouth, the lip busting open.


Gro'tesk lets go of your arm as you stumble back, and he lands another fist into the side of your head.  A throbbing pain emanates from the side of your head. 


Your opponent grins as you stagger in a daze, he prepares the finishing blow…

You catch his Wrist

Shuffling to the side a bit, you stare at your foe, your hands at your side.  He snarls and lunges forward for the last strike.  You lean back, then step to the side as you grab his wrist with your outermost hand.  You pull it down with as much force as you can, and with your arm closest to him you run your elbow along his straightened arm for a moment.


Your elbow collides, hitting him right between the eyes.  His face scrunches up, and, as you let go, you step right in front of him; reeling your fist back you snarl as you ram it into his nose.  His head jerks back and his feet slip out from under him, landing with a heavy thud. 


Panting, you step back and watch him as he lays still.


With a groan he shuffles, rubbing his face with his hands.


"What happened?" he asks.


"I won the fight."


"Aww, come on!" he complains.  "I wanted to win!"


"No, I won fair and square."


"Fine!" Gro'tesk groans.


As he pulls himself up, he mumbles under his breath.  He signals to you to follow him into his hut.  The crowd stares in awe, as they have never seen anyone beat their leader down before.
You shuffle forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm.  He grunts in surprise as you pull, while simultaneously planting a fist or two into his ribs.


Ducking under a swing, you grab his wrist with your other hand and slide the first up his arm and lock it around his elbow.  With all your might, you yank is arm forward and pull down.  Gro'tesk stumbles and falls, and, as you are about to twist his arm, you feel a savage kick land on the back of your knee.


Buckling and letting go of his arm, the foe pushes himself up.  Hearing him coming up right behind, you throw an elbow back with a savage snarl.  He catches it and wraps his hand around the back of your neck.


With a heavy grunt, he pushes you forward, using his control and momentum to keep you moving.  You cry out as he tosses you over a water trough and into a wooden rack with animal skins hanging from it. 


You only half-catch yourself, and, before you can fully turn, Gro'tesk is right there.  With a sick grin, his boot flies into the water trough which slams into your stomach.  The wind is taken out of you, and you even manage to get a grip on it.  You cannot stop the force of the kick and the trough still goes down, pinning you to the ground from your waist.


The cold water spills out, pouring up over your belly and chest.  You feel like something sucks up into your chest as the cold makes you gasp.


With an unnatural nimbleness, Gro'tesk hops over the fallen trough.  He lifts his foot and brings it down.  Luckily you manage to catch his foot in time.  With both hands, you push as he does; both of your faces twisting with effort.

You go for a cheap shot

Gritting your teeth as his foot gets closer and closer to your face, you're only left with one option.  He tries to pull his leg away, but you hold on tight.  Your wrap your hand over the top of his foot, pulling it so his heel skids across your chest.  Your other hand shoots upward, Gro'tesk's face twists in pain as he stumbles back and falls.  He rolls howling in pain, nursing his injured genitals. 


With the water trough empty and no one trying to crush your skull, you have a much easier time pushing it off of you. 


"No fair!" Gro'tesk cries, "that's cheating!"


"So is trying to stomp in my skull," you say, "but I did win."


"Fair is fair…and unfair is unfair!" Gro'tesk screams.


"Well, now you've learned that there are consequences to trying to stomp heads in."


Gro'tesk rolls to the side and pouts.


"Fine, you win," he says, "but I owe you a punch!"


Gro'tesk pulls himself up in a huff, and hobbles over to his hut.  Most of the orcs stare at you in awe as you follow, others give you disapproving looks for your chosen victory route. 


Although you don't really care either way, you've won.
The Imperials try to hold out, managing to down a few orcs, but, in the end, they are overwhelmed.  You stand, stabbing an Imperial with one of their own spears repeatedly.  His friend, clutching an injury, swipes his blade at you.  You step back to dodge and ram the spear into his throat.  Gurgling as he goes down he swings once more; his blade scratches your hand but not too deep.


Twisting and pulling the spear, you yank it from his corpse.  You run forward, seeing the orcs beating down a group of Imperials.  The last few men seem terrified, and one not older than seventeen trembles.  If you could hear over the sound of the fighting, you would be able to hear his knees causing his hauberk to clink together. 


Before you can reach them, the rest of the orcs have stabbed and battered them into oblivion.  Some orcs ride into the forest to find the fleeing soldiers.


You pant, watching the massacre taking place all around.  Wounded men cry out, and some lay there dying quietly. 


An orc approaches you, the frenzy of blood-shed just starting to wear off. 


"What shall we do with the wounded?" he asks.


You sit there and think for a moment.  Orcs have never really taken prisoners, and you don't have the supplies to care for their wounded.  You are worried about having enough medical supplies for your own as it is. 


Although it might help to take some of them ransom, there is not too much that you would need, so maybe just leaving them to die would be better.

You leave them

"Leave the wounded," you say.  "Gigalak will decide their fate!"


Most of the orcs obey, although many still loot the corpses.  Some of the more savage orcs cut the scalps from the still living and squirming men despite your order.


You walk through the dead and wounded, picking out the orcs who plead for your help.  Some you know cannot be saved, and others can while being grievously wounded.  With all the orcs gathered, you and many of the other orcs set to work helping them.


You have saved many lives this day, working over the sound of groaning Imperials dying in the mud just outside. 


You see Grolik looking around, putting a spear tip to a wounded human.  With a grunt he pushes, sending the dying man to his fate.  It would seem as though that is not the first or the last he has killed in this manner.  You catch his glimpse for a second, shame written across his face.


While he does not seem the type for emotions like that, putting helpless people out of their misery must take a certain toll on one.


On a rock sits Rolomag, nursing a gash on his face using a rag.  He just watches some of the orcs finishing off the dying Imperials.  Most of them do not seem happy about it, but maybe they believe it right not to prolong their suffering.


You turn your attention back to your work, ending the suffering of friends in a much different manner.  The orc whose deadly injury you have just cleaned and sewn up thanks you as he hobbles away.
The Imperials try to hold out, managing to down a few orcs, but, in the end, they are overwhelmed.  You stand, stabbing an Imperial with one of their own spears repeatedly.  His friend, clutching an injury, swipes his blade at you.  You step back to dodge and ram the spear into his throat.  Gurgling as he goes down he swings once more; his blade scratches your hand but not too deep.


Twisting and pulling the spear, you yank it from his corpse.  You run forward, seeing the orcs beating down a group of Imperials.  The last few men seem terrified, and one not older than seventeen trembles.  If you could hear over the sound of the fighting, you would be able to hear his knees causing his hauberk to clink together. 


Before you can reach them, the rest of the orcs have stabbed and battered them into oblivion.  Some orcs ride into the forest to find the fleeing soldiers.


You pant, watching the massacre taking place all around.  Wounded men cry out, and some lay there dying quietly. 


An orc approaches you, the frenzy of blood-shed just starting to wear off. 


"What shall we do with the wounded?" he asks.


You sit there and think for a moment.  Orcs have never really taken prisoners, and you don't have the supplies to care for their wounded.  You are worried about having enough medical supplies for your own as it is. 


Although it might help to take some of them ransom, there is not too much that you would need, so maybe just leaving them to die would be better.

You take them prisoner

"Take them as prisoners," you shout.  "We will take them as ransom."


You divide your orcs, some of them gathering wounded orcs to aid them with their injuries.  The rest gather up the wounded Imperials worth saving.  Some are too wounded, so are either put out of their misery or left to die.


You grab a dying Imperial soldier, the young human sort of whimpers.  He must believe you are going to kill him, but his eyes widen in surprise as you clamp his wound.  You lift him up and carry him to some of the tents erected for the wounded.  There are many more orcs in here than humans, as most are focusing on the orcs, who they find more worth saving. 


The soldier winces and grunts as you pour alcohol into his wound.  Alcohol and blood running from the gash in his side.  He groans in pain as you sew his wounds, then when it seems he is set, you tie his hands and place him under the guard of some other orcs.


You go, helping orc and human alike.  In the group, you are surprised to see Grolik eagerly helping a human. 


Strangely, he seems compassionate towards the wounded fellow as he wholeheartedly stitches his wounds up.  You are surprised to see this trait from an orc such as Grolik.  After witnessing him brutally butcher and maim countless enemies, it comes as a bit of a shock that he is not looting or scalping the helpless foes.


While aiding enemy soldiers does not come naturally to you, surely Gigalak would smile upon saving lives as opposed to wanton destruction of life, something only the grimmest of souls would take satisfaction with.
While some Imperials have been killed, they are quickly whittling down your numbers.  To your left, you see the knight caught out of the line, trying to rally his soldiers.  You watch as an orc chops at his head with an axe, but it bounces off his helmet.  The knight rams his sword blade through the orc's armpit, pushing the dying orc off. 


Another orc slashes, the blade harmlessly skidding across the helmet.  Before the orc is cut down, he slams the flat of the axe on the soldier's helm, slightly denting it. 


You look to the Imperial with the protruding spear from his silver coat, and the knights dented helmet.  You get an idea…

You impale the Knight

You pull one of your spears slung onto your back.  With a roar, you charge the knight, he looks in surprise, taking a swing at you.  You knock the sword to the side and ram the spear into his stomach.  The silver coat snaps and crunches, and, as the knight falls, you push the spear further into him.  You watch as crimson red oozes out from inside the coat as you twist and push the spear.  The imperial sputters and coughs from under his helm as he feebly reaches for his sword before going limp.  Ripping the spear out, you see the tip is mostly ruined.  If you hadn't kept pushing the dead man before, you would only have had a minor flesh wound.
As you get closer to him, you arc your sword over your head, aiming for his neck.  The Imperial soldier slams it away with the flat of his blade and, mid-push, brings his blade back down.  The sword cuts through your thick leather armor, biting into your shoulder.


You wince and grunt as he pulls his sword, the both of you passing each other and turning in preparation to charge again.  Behind him, you see that the orcs seem to have pushed the Imperial horsemen back a bit, and the orcs on the hill have wounded several archers in each column. 


The battle is going well enough for the orcs. 


As you charge the Imperial knight again, you consider your next move.

You throw your axe at the knight

As you both ride forward, the knight tenses up, preparing to run you through.  Pulling the axe from its loop, you whip it forward.  The axe whirls landing in his shoulder, almost making him fall off his horse.  Despite this injury he manages to hang onto his horse, pulling the axe from his shoulder.


Yet there isn't the familiar sight of blood oozing from the wound, just a ripped robe and silver gleaming in the sunlight. 


"You'll have to do better than that, brute," the knight says while twirling the axe.


Glaring at him, you accept his challenge, you spur your horse onward.


The knight does the same, holding both sword and axe in hand.  As he rides forward, you get an idea.

You stab his neck under his helmet

You lean in as you ride forward, intent on pushing the tip of your sword under his helmet, which should pierce his throat. 


As the knight gets closer, you lunge, pushing the blade forward.  He slams his sword into yours, simultaneously pushing it forward and sliding the axe blade along it.


Before you even realize what is happening, the sword blade is biting through your neck.  The axe follows tearing through your flesh, muscle, and severing your neck bone.  You barely feel a thing as your head rolls to the floor, your vision darkening as the knight rides on, and your body falls to join you.