Iknow5/Text_Adventures huggingface dataset:
You agree to comfort her again tonight. It's as weird as the last time, but it seems to make your mom happy and that's all a son could want.


"Thank you, I need this right now," she says as you massage her back.


You sleep in the same bed as your mom everyday for the next few weeks. Demon sighting have been occurring more frequently and your mother is becoming increasingly worried.


"I think we need to get out of Ashton before its too late," she says.


"Where will we go and how could we survive alone?"


"I know a place, but you have to trust me."


You have no reason not to trust her and follow her once nightfall arrives. You leave the city walls and venture into a nearby forest.


"Where exactly are we going?"


"You'll see."


She speeds up showing a surprising amount of fitness for a middle-aged woman. You eventually reach a clearing where a river flows against rocks.


"It's beautiful," you say stunned..


"Not as beautiful as you," your mother says with a playful wink.


It gets kind of awkward for a bit until you break the silence.


"I still don't understand what we're doing here. How is a forest any safe than Ashton?"


"Oh, it's not safer at all. I just wanted to go somewhere nobody could hear you scream,"


Your mother dashes at you with inhuman speed. She pins you down and starts ripping off your clothes


"Ever since father died, I've had to suppress my sexual desires. Not anymore, never again."


You try to struggle but it's no use. You find yourself buck naked in the middle of forest.


"I want you to enjoy this as much as I do, so please don't fight back."


You always assumed you were stronger than mother but aren't so sure now. Perhaps you should give in to a deep seeded desire you've repressed for all these years.

You struggle

This is way too far, and you do not want it in any way.


"Mom, I love you, but please don't do this."


You expect her to understand, but her reaction is completely different.


"Are you impotent or some shit?"


For the first time in a long time your head starts pounding again. She continues,


"I mean I know you are right now, but I are you impotent in terms of sex?"


"I don't want to have sex with my own mother! If that makes me impotent then I guess I am."


She grows angry and grabs your crotch.


"It's not just that! You didn't even want to have sex with a hot succubus. I thought you must have had some mommy issues, but that doesn't seem to be it either."


"Whaaaaa," is all you have time to say before she tears your crotch off.


"That's for wasting my time!"


She finishes the job by setting you on fire and spitting on your charred corpse.


"And that's for being a bitch."
"Fuck off worm."


Greg surprises you when he snaps back,


"Connor and Tom picking on me is one thing, but you? I don't know why, but I thought you were different."


For a second, you feel hurt. But then you realize it's Greg and feel a bit better.


"Your fault, not mine. Now do as you're told and stop following me," you say while walking away.


This guys persistent and runs to catch up when you start walking fast. Are you going to have to kick the shit out of him so he leaves you alone? You hope not, but that may be the only option as he's acting like a child.


"I don't want to go back to the tavern. Wherever you're going, it's better than there."


He's probably not wrong, but it's beyond pathetic that he still follows you. Guess when you take so much abuse you can shrug it off pretty easily.


"Go ahead, follow me. Just know if you try to enter my house you won't be able to leave."


He gulps but continues to follow you. He's wasted a lot of your time so you decide to take a shortcut to your parents' house. You find yourself exiting out of the slums and into the residential part of the city. Most guards sleep in the barracks, however, since your parents never returned from their trip their house is all yours. If they ever return, you hope they don't mind you bringing a demon inside the house. Although, they were always bugging you about finding a girlfriend, this might not be what they had in mind.


You arrive at your parent's old home and open the door. The wooden door squeaks loudly as you open it.


"Some things never change," you whisper to yourself.


You immediately start making yourself more presentable. You change out of your soldiers' uniform and put on a loose-fitting black tunic. You probably should take a bath but you're too excited to see Catia that you forget to. Do demons mind odor?


You're about to sit down in your bed when a chill runs down your spin. Your door makes a squeaking noise and a cold breeze rushes towards you.


"I swear to god Greg! you shout.


No reply, although you don't know what you were expecting. It's possible the breeze pushed the door open, it's pretty flimsy and it wouldn't be the craziest thing that's happened in the last 24 hours. On the other hand, you can't shake the feeling you're being watched. Should you investigate?

You ignore it

It probably was just the wind, no need to be paranoid. You hop in bed and close your eyes.


"Cat---"


You head is struck making you collapse. You black out from what you assume to be Greg's doing. Who knew he was so strong? You suffer intensive internal bleeding and die a slow, painful death.
It probably was just the wind, no need to be paranoid. You hop in bed and close your eyes.


"Cat---"


Your head is struck making you collapse.


"They may have taken my job, but they didn't take my sword."


"Lars?" You ask through blurred vision.


"Why yes, it's me, demon! You really think I believed you survived on pure luck?"


He looks completely unhinged. You try to say something but just start coughing blood. It comes out in chunks resembling mashed berries.


"You really thought you could get away with it, didn't you? HAHAHAHA! I know you've been possessed by a demon; how else could you survive the frigid cold?"


Clumps of blood continue flying out of your mouth as you fail to speak. Lars crotches down next to you and strokes your face.


"It's ok, calm down. Like I told you before, or at least the non-possessed you, the city could use some heating up."


Where is this going?


"I want to make a deal with you! Kill the Captain and I'll let you live. Hell, I'll even give you something in exchange. Perhaps a part of my soul? If there's anything left in there."

You shake your head

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


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


End...
Childhood


A fist thuds into your face, knocking you to the ground. Gruzub stands over you, laughing.


"Mazkil! You are as weak as a Shepard!" He laughs, as you leap to you feet.

You punch him

You swing your fist, but Gruzub quickly ducks and elbows you in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs. He gets two more punches in before you manage to roll away and get back into a fighting stance. As you prepare to charge him, you hear a deep voice.


"CHILDREN! Your mother struggles to soothe the little one while your brother hunts sheep. This is no time for playing. There is work to be done! Inside!" Your father bellows.

You go inside

You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You elven Dagger (Elves)

"Ah, the dagger. One of my favorite. The Elves are a race of "beautiful" and "perfect" creatures who don't know a battleaxe from a wood-axe. Death to them all. They're stupid in things like how to start a fire and how to hunt, yet seem to love philosophy and reading. Death should take them. Still, they're fast with a blade and good with a bow, which I found out while hunting a party of them that came into my territory. That knife nearly went into my throat before I impaled the little bastard wielding it."
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You shrunken Head (Necromancer's Army)

"Ah, that! I took that off a large bastard with a sword twice as large as you.That damn Necromancer, I can't remember his name, rose Zombies Ghouls, Skeletons, Wights, Death Knights, Specters, Ghosts and who knows what else in his quest for power. He led a small group of Death Knights up here to add some Ork Zombies to his collection. He ran faster than a deer when he saw what a true Orc can do! Ha!"
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You battered Golden Shield (Empire of Man)

"The Shield? The Shield... Ah, yes! The shield! I took it off some fancy knight who drank too much and fought too little. Let me tell you about men, little one, there's a lot of them, but they're weak, stupid and cowardly. They break easily. They're the biggest threat to our little old home, but they're too busy fighting the elves to come fuck with my tribe."
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You shattered Battleaxe (Dwarves)

"Ah, this one! I fought the dwarves when I was young, back when my name was Youngblood like you. I earned the name Magrash Shatteraxe that day! The Dwarves are small bastards and the sight of one will make you chuckle, but I love 'em! The Gods made them jesters to amuse, and the Dwarves became angry, stubborn, heavy-drinkers who can wield an axe! They hide in their tunnels and mine too much, but I respect them anyway."
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You studded Mace (Rebel Orcs)

"Ah... the mace. Boy, some Orcs stick to their tribe. Some wander as mercenaries, or sign up as soldiers. Some become Rebels, raiders targeting every humans, elves, dwarves and anyone else that gets in their way. They're mad, stubborn, bloodthirsty fools. I took that weapon off on of them trying to convince Old Klaim to join up. I also took a few of his teeth, but I don't have those anymore."
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You tribal Necklaces (Tribal Orks)

"The tribal necklaces? Boy, show some respect! Those are the Chieftain's necklaces, that show who's the boss of this tribe! Us Orcs have always been a hot-headed folk. Lots of fighting, drinking, eating, fucking and some more fighting when you're finished. We stick to the tribes, each led by the great Chieftain. It's a good life, boy."
You quickly hurry inside, followed by your twin brother. You live in a small village of small huts. Luckily enough, you father is Chieftain Magrash, which entitles you to sleep in the Chieftain's Hut, the largest hut. As you enter, you see your father sitting in a rough woolen tunic, sharpening his greatsword. In front of him is his heavy steel plate armor, as well as several trophies from his battles.


"Mazkil, Gruzub, you fight too much. Mama is trying to put Dagden to sleep."


"Yes, papa." You both reply.


"Who won the fight?" He asks.


"I did!" You both say, before glaring at each other.


"You don't know? Perhaps you're not fighting enough. Gruzub, go down to the river and fetch water for the stew. Mazkil, sharpen my sword. I need light the hearth."


You go over to the sword, and begin to sharpen it against the whet stone, while looking over your father's trophies: An Elven Dagger, a Shrunken head, a battered golden shield, a shattered battleaxe, a studded mace, a series of Tribal Necklaces and a Dragon Skull.


"Papa?"


"Yes?"


"Can you tell me about your trophies?" You ask.


"I've told you many times about my trophies."


"Tell me again."


Papa chuckles, a harsh sound you've come to love.


"Which would you like to know about?"

You ask about the Dragon Skull (Dragons)

"Ah, the skull. Dragons are fearsome creatures. They come in many colors, all with powerful skills. They speak Dragontongue, and many speak our language. Some are intelligent, while some are incredibly feral and wild from years of isolation. Their flames tend to be tinted the same color as their scales, with an afinity for hoarding treasure and waging war and destruction. They're solitary creatures, Dragons. If you ever slay one, Gorgok will look upon you with joy."
"Assemble the warriors." You say. "Get me a group of sixty warriors who are hungry for blood."


You have the group assembled, and quickly begin making your way up the mountain. About halfway up, you begin to regret it.


"It's cold, my feet hurt and I'm fucking tired." You grunt as you trudge up the mountain.


"Damn right, Mazkil." Urug Eaglebow says.


You look further up the mountain, and hear the howls and rasps of the dead as well as the roars and screeches of the dragon. There's few dragons up here, so you presume this Red Dragon fighting is Mont Pre'Igni Rubrum, a near unpronounceable name, or the Volcano of Gargarum. The Undead are no doubt deserters from the Necromancer's Army. You reach the top of mountain, at the edge of a crater. At the center, a large group of two dozen undead soldiers armed with spears and swords are attempting to kill the dragon. It seems the undead are very unmatched.

You attack the Undead

"Send the dead back to their graves!" You roar, charging into battle. 


You swing your blade, beheading a rotting head and sending it through the air. You stab another through the heart, killing him instantly. You headbutt another, with such strength that the spine breaks and the zombie collapses on the ground. The undead are so unmatched that they're wiped out within seconds. You turn, to the snarling face of a dragon. It's voice, a low growl, shakes your very core.


"Orcs... Why have you come to my home?"


"I... I came to help." You say nervously. "I wanted to make sure this fight doesn't move into my territory."


"A wise move, mortal. Your assistance was unnecessary, but polite. Please, let me give you a gift."


The Dragon turns and stomps away into a cave. A few minutes later, it comes back. It opens its mouth, letting golden coins and gems fall out. Not a massive amount, but enough to fund the building of a new well and to get new bows for the hunters.


"Thank you, mighty dragon." You say.


"Of course."


You bow, and begin trudging down the mountain.

One Month Later...

You walk up a mountain, trudging through the harsh snow. You're cold despite being wrapped in furs and leathers, and you really need to piss, but you know that if you tried, your dick would freeze off. You lost three farmers and a dozen goats to a Frost Troll wandering down from the mountain in the cold, icy winter that's just started. You're taking a five war parties of twenty warriors each to wipe out any trolls up in the mountains. You lead the main war party of the best warriors who wish to target the cave system most likely to hold sheltering trolls. Wind and snow begins to block your view. You know you need to find shelter soon.

You hunker down in the cold

You drop down, putting up whatever tents you have. You crawl inside, wrapping furs and leathers around you.  You hope the storm clears up soon. Within an hour and a half, the cold is so brutal that you lose all feeling. The snow's bad you have no idea where you're going. After four hours of waiting, you feel a sudden sensation of warmth. You begin unstrapping your armor to cool down. You're hot and tired. A quick nap in the snow would be nice...