Iknow5/Text_Adventures huggingface dataset:
You need to get out of here. There's no use risking your own life to try save your comrades when they're already most likely dead. Your shotgun ready in your hands, you head off down the road. Your body burns and pain shoots through your body, plus the energy sapped in your night's other hunts and surviving the crash means that exhaustion is quickly becoming an issue. You hurry along the road, taking up a steady jog along the road so you don't tire yourself out, but don't spend too long in these wretched woods. You keep your grip tight, as your eyes watch the shadows of the woods around you and struggle to hear the sounds of the surrounding woods over the sound of your tired, slightly panicked breathing. 


Several long minutes of jogging, as you try to get out of these woods again. You begin to hear nearby howls, bursting from the nearby forests and nearby undergrowth. Your breath catches in your throat, before you shake your head and continue jogging, speeding up your pace slightly. There's no use panicking. 


You hear the howls of the werewolves grow nearer, and you know that they're on your trail. No doubt, they know you'd be following the road back to the Lodge where you came from. You wonder whether it'd be safer to try to lose the pack in the forest around you, or whether you should stay on the road and hope you come across something soon.

You try to lose them in the undergrowth of the forest

You turn, rushing off the road as you leap off the tarmac onto the dirt of the forest floor. You keep your run fast and steady, boots crushing leaves and twigs underfoot as you maneuver through the trees, trying to keep at least somewhat parallel to the road so you don't end up lost in here. You push your way through the thin branches as quickly as you can, as they gently slap and snag at your clothes. You ignore the pain, barreling forward.


However, it's not long before the other creatures are left on your tail, having caught the scent of your blood and the sound of you trampling over branches and leaves. It's not long before the howls are almost behind you again, and you need to act.

You keep running

You sprint, running as fast as you can, your lungs burning. Your strides are now more akin to leaps as you fly through the air, charging forward. You hear the growls grow closer, the howls almost being roared right in your ears. You can practically feel the flicks of spit and blood landing on your ear from how close the werewolves' maws are when they howl into you, causing you to shiver with fright. Seconds later, a force like a truck smashes into your back, sending you crumpling to the floor with your legs shattering from the impact. You scream as the creature lands atop your legs, sending pain racing through your body as you spasm. The creature looks down at you, growling.


"My comrades are going to wipe your kind out," you spit, hoping some part of the creature understands you.


The creature's head snaps down, tearing out your throat. He begins digging into your neck, feeding on your blood and flesh as you screams become gargles.
You turn, rushing off the road as you leap off the tarmac onto the dirt of the forest floor. You keep your run fast and steady, boots crushing leaves and twigs underfoot as you maneuver through the trees, trying to keep at least somewhat parallel to the road so you don't end up lost in here. You push your way through the thin branches as quickly as you can, as they gently slap and snag at your clothes. You ignore the pain, barreling forward.


However, it's not long before the other creatures are left on your tail, having caught the scent of your blood and the sound of you trampling over branches and leaves. It's not long before the howls are almost behind you again, and you need to act.

You hide and wait for them to pass

You quickly scamper into the thickest underbrush, staying low and disappearing into the bushes. You know how to hide well, so you quickly begin covering yourself with dirt and immersing yourself in the leaves, keeping low and quiet. You still your tired breathing, and wait.


You wait for several minutes, as the howls become louder, and louder, before going quiet. You wait carefully, your breath caught in your lungs, as you wait for several minutes.


Suddenly, a lupine maw emerges from the bush in front of you, followed by a pair of blood-red eyes. The werewolf stares at you, growling in a low voice, as you realize the creatures have followed your scent, and surrounding you. The albino wolf that's come across you looks at you with almost sadistic glee, licking its lips.


Almost an hour later, the screams filling the moonlit night finally end, the last few sounds little more than a dying, gargling whimper from a creature so broken and exhausted that they're incapable of even moving, the voice so red raw from screaming that it can barely make a noise. The torn apart, bloody body that is left there is never found, with what remains being food for the worms.
You keep your position, taking pot shots at the Thrall as he fires back at you, but neither one of you is able to get anywhere close. You wait patiently, ready for the Thrall to peek his head out. The crazed, drug-addled man is well trained by his master, but he's still lacking in any real training or discipline, so you just need your chance. The seconds you wait feel like an eternity, the sound of gunfire bursting out and tearing away the veil of silence.


"Playing with the slave, Hunter?" a voice says.


Your voice chills when you hear the voice. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend. 


"Hello," the Vampire smiles, revealing a fanged mouth stretching from ear to ear. 


The Vampire is nearly upon you, and you need to decide whether to open fire and hope you have a chance, even with him at the edge of tearing you apart, or you can try make a break for the back door.

You charge the Thrall to fight your way out

You turn, barreling around the corner as fast as you can while you fire a shotgun blast. The Vampire laughs watching you run. You speed out from the counter, hurrying forward, as the Thrall lets out a burst of manic laughter, copying his master.


The assault rifle's barrel bursts out in a scream of gunfire, and your scream soon answers it.


After facing tooth, claw, demonic possession and worse, it's a simple bullet that takes you down. You collapse to the ground, your body shaking as blood pools around you. 


You feel the air knocked out of your lungs as you bounce against the wall and collapse to your knees. For a moment, you just feel a cold swelling through you as you're left unable to breathe, before the pain begins to burn its way through your chest.


Gasping for breath that won't fill your lungs as you find them filling with warm, wet, blood instead, and you're left drowning in it. You manage to pull a few strangled breaths from the air, as you stay on your knee, knowing that if you collapse you'll end up letting the darkness taken.


"Aah... you look appetizing, don't you?" the Vampire smiles.


"Fucking... blood thirsty... prick," you say, struggling to keep from collapsing to the ground. 


The Vampire slowly walks forward. You know he could strike far faster, but the vampire seems to be savoring his kill.


You go to your revolver, hidden at your side, grabbing the ivory handle as you attempt to draw your gun. You fumble to pull it from the safety of its holster, before the Vampire grabs his wrist, bending your arm behind your back as you scream. His jaw snaps forward, a fanged mouth tearing into your neck. You let out a scream, teeth bursting through flesh and slicing into veins. Your body weakens in the creature's grasp as it begins to drain you of your blood, and the world rapidly goes dark as blood loss takes you.
The back door, you decide. You want to ensure you get the drop on the Thrall, and don't end up in a firefight with the man, or else the vampire will have time to awaken from his internal, dreamless slumber, and then you don't have a chance in hell. With that decided, you walk towards the house, shotgun gripped tightly in your hand. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head. 


Moving slowly and softly through the garden around to the back, you still your breathing and do your best to be as soundless as the shadows. You creep through the rose bushes, whose petals look almost eerily beautiful in the moonlight. The sky's light brightens your path, but also makes it harder to sneak, and you just stay low and hope that if the Thrall happens to be looking out the window, he isn't looking too hard. 


Edging around to the back, you draw close to the wooden door. You move to the door, standing ready, before striking. Taking a deep breath, you growl, ready to act. You raise your shotgun, firing through the door's lock as you boot it open, quickly stepping through the now opened doorway and into the house.


The Thrall stands in the kitchen, his back turned to you.The Thrall is a short, bearded man, growling and shaking his head repeatedly as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to. The man quickly turns, his crazed, blood-shot eyes bulging at you as he sees you. 


His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. With a roar, he charges for you.

You smash him aside with the butt of your shotgun

You swing your shotgun as hard as you can, the stock of your shotgun flying into his face. The shotgun butt smacks into his face, shattering the bridge of his nose and sending teeth and blood flying and spewing across the floor. 


The man stands there, with a broken nose and blood streaming down his face, skin torn and fleshed bruised, but still standing there. He roars, grabbing you and flinging you into the wall. You smack into the wall, sliding down it onto the ground as you groan in pain. The Thrall rushes forward, drawing a knife as he rams it into your stomach.


You gasp, as the steel pierces and cuts through flesh and guts, and the Thrall precedes to repeatedly and aggressively penetrate your stomach. Blood, stomach acid and the remains of food begin pouring out of your open wound and running down your stomach as death quickly drags you into the endless darkness.
You order everyone to surround Frankie to try to keep him off guard. Frankie watches as the wolfling encircle him, but he's still slowly moving towards you.

He charges! A couple of the wolfling dive for his legs in an effort to stop him, but he's like a juggernaut and keeps charging. Fortunately you're still nimble and get out of his way as he smashes through the wall. The wolflings that dived for his legs, follow up and begin attack him with tooth and claw. It's not having that great of an effect though, he's got metal plating on that dead flesh now. Frankie kills the pair of them by smashing their heads together until there is nothing left except mush.

"Everyone grab a weapon! Don't fight him head on!" you bark at the survivors while attempting to find something. You find a large metal pole, though you're reluctant to take it, with all the electricity in the damn room.

"It's useless! You'll never defeat my boy Frankie!" Victor says.

Frankie begins to approach you again.

You stand firm and wait for him to charge

You hold the pole like a medieval pike waiting to skewer Frankie when he comes charging at you. It's like throwing rocks at a tank.

The pole certainly impales Frankie, but it barely slows him down, he continues his rush even as the pole breaks off into him and he slams his heavy body into you hard. You go flying into the wall and collapse on to the floor. Frankie follows up with stomping your head into mush. Werewolves do have regenerative powers, but you won't be regenerating this severe damage since your brains have leaked out of your head.
Knowing that Vic works with electricity a lot, you figure he's in that direction. You and the wolflings that are still with you follow, carefully avoiding traps. You travel further to higher levels of the castle where the burning smell is getting stronger. You KNOW you're getting closer to him. You can feel it. You just hope his "experiment" is as great as he claims. It would suck if there wasn't a real battle to fight after all this.

You burst into the room with strong burning smell and see big globes of energy, conduits, generators and a big ass corpse with cybernetic implants lying on the table. It's Frankie with some modifications and absorbing more electricity than lightning rod.

You half expect to see Victor somewhere, but all you hear is the loudspeaker disturbing your ears again.

"You see Wolf! You see! While you've been wasting away in that shitty cabin, I've been preparing for my son's come back! You stole his woman! You ended his career! You didn't just damage him physically, you damaged his mind! Scarred him emotionally! It's taken me YEARS to undo the damage!"
"Damaged his mind? He was a psychopathic serial pedophile made of corpses! What the fuck kind of damage could I have done? And Mary never liked him anyway!"
"She could've learned! He could've too! They just needed more time! But YOU! You prevented all that! You and your dog dick!"
"For fuck's sake, I wasn't the only one fucking her!"
"Yes, but you're the one who did it the longest and destroyed my poor boy's career! You're going to pay! Ha ha ha ha! He's up! HE'S ALIVE! HE'S ALIVE! HE'S ALIVE! Frankie look who we have here! And old friend, why don't you go and give him a big hug?"

Victor goes into his mad scientist laugh yet again, as Frankie "2.0" gets up from the table. He opens his eyes and looks directly at you.

"FRANKIE BEAT YOUR HEAD IN NOW." He says with a booming voice.

Still as verbal and articulate as ever.

You fight him head on

Um…no.

Even in your prime you would've had problems taking on Frankie in his current updated state. At your age it's just unthinkable.

You attempt to bite his neck in an effort to tear his head off, but he crushes his strong metallic arms around you squeezing with all his might. Your pack attempts to help, but Frankie is too focused on his revenge. Even when you tear out his eyes, he continues to squash your internal organs until he finally breaks your back and throws you blindly into one of those electric generators.

Your limp corpse fries for a little while, but unlike Frankie, it doesn't bring you back to life.
What happens next is so quick it's amazing you survive it.

You leap up in the air in an effort to land on Igor before he fires. Frankie is still charging behind you, but that changes when you leap up into the air, because he ends up being underneath you when gains more momentum.

Meanwhile Igor is attempting to lift that heavy arm weapon of his to accurately shoot you. The weight and the recoil makes it difficult and he's not very accurate and begins firing everywhere randomly in your AND Frankie's direction.

You're still airborn heading towards Igor and now Frankie as well who's somehow gotten in front of you due to him being unable to stop himself at this point. This is fortunate since this causes Frankie to block most of the randomly fired bullets with his body. You still take a couple in the leg though.

"OH SHIT! Igor yells as Frankie slams into him and the floor at terrific speed. You don't fair much better since you crash into the back of Frankie which is pretty hard due to the metal plating. It hurts like hell and you crawl off as quickly as possible while Frankie attempts to recover. Igor isn't recovering as quickly; he's bleeding from every orifice and whatever cybernetic parts he had can go to the scrap yard.

You're in great pain and you got some silver bullets in your leg, but you need to act.

You finish off Frankie

You limp over to Frankie while he's recovering and land a few well placed strikes, even ripping off some of the back plating. It's no good though; Frankie's still got a lot of fight in him. He turns around, grabs you by the throat and begins to squeeze the shit out of it, raising you off the ground. Igor who's dying makes one last effort to avenge his last blunder.

"For my brother Vic!" he yells and fires his weapon at you one last time. He can't miss at this range and your death is instantaneous.
You awake in a great hall, huge stone pillars holding up the high ceiling, fine stone art carved into the perfect marble walls. Couples dressed in medieval finery dance around you, ignoring the nearly naked man on the floor who just woke up. With surprise and embarrassment you realize you're only wearing a loose pair of breeches that only reach to your knees. You keep a hand on it to stop it from falling down.


"Ah! Another one. I had just begun to believe the party was over. Seems the second round has started! Grab a lady and begin the dance anew. Oh, you might want to put something on first. Or not. Whatever you think is an appropriate way to celebrate!"


A man sits in a stone throne a few steps up in front of you. He stares at you with dark red eyes as he taps his bare feet on the lovely gold and red carpets. His pure white hair is pushed back over his head, over his ears, and under a dull plain looking iron crown, more like a simple iron circle than a crown. He puts his hand over his chin in a thinking position.


"On second thought; that is the perfect way to celebrate! Everybody naked! Brilliant my speechless friend! Haha, someone grab my friend here a partner!" He jumps up and rips off his coat.  "Nevermind, I will!" He grabs your hand and pulls you up, spinning you around and around.


Everyone around you is going through the long process of undressing and he pushes you into the crowd, towards the only person done, a woman who gracefully catches you before you not very gracefully fall into the nearly naked bodies.


You don't know if this is a nightmare or a fantasy.

You where are you\?

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


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


She turns her head and looks at you.


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

You ignore her warning

As soon as you open your mouth again she pushes you away and stops dancing.


The crowd has stopped and is looking at you. The man, now minus his tight black pants, stares at you. You noticed that some of his guards are walking torwards you.


"Please, please, hold all questions until the end of the presentation." He claps and everyone resumes dancing.


Everyone but you that is, as his guards have long since killed you and are now in the process of cleaning up the mess your blood leaves on the smooth tiles.
You place your weapons on a table and stare at yet another wall. Again, there's a wide selection but you're getting better at scanning them. The shorter weapons are packed in much tighter in than the others, nearly making you dizzy. You feel a few; the short weapons are light and nimble with sharp edges and points. Though there are many different kinds and variations between all those you decide to narrow it down to just a few of different kinds.


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

The baselard

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


With your right hand you hold out your arm to press against the baselard. The cool metal cuts your skin lightly, drawing less than even an entire drop of blood on your finger tip. You pick up the blade, smearing that crimson speck on the hilt. It's light as a feather in your grasp, perhaps too light after holding other weapons. With a practice slash from high and then to the left you sense the way the dagger reacts to force, gaining an understanding of its balance.


"Interesting choice." remarks the Blacksmith. "Okay then. All done here I suppose. Armour will come later -- we've little enough time now, and it requires much measuring. But you've got everything you need for the moment. I'll be seeing you Ophelia, and you as well I suppose."
You place your weapons on a table and stare at yet another wall. Again, there's a wide selection but you're getting better at scanning them. The shorter weapons are packed in much tighter in than the others, nearly making you dizzy. You feel a few; the short weapons are light and nimble with sharp edges and points. Though there are many different kinds and variations between all those you decide to narrow it down to just a few of different kinds.


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

The stiletto

You pick up the blade by its handle and feel the guard over to the tip, where the sharp edge bites into your finger and draws a small drop of blood. You wipe the blood off your hand and hold the knife in the light to look over it. Light as any knife or dagger is, it glides though the air easy, almost requiring no effort. You sweep at and the air, listening to it cry out in that distinctive whistle.


The Blacksmith looks over you and the blade before speaking "You choose that one? Good. Well I suppose that's everything. You'll need armour as well, but you'll need to be measured before and then it'll take a while for me to make all of it. But regardless, we're done here for now. Good to see you Ophelia. Wealth and health to you both.