license: other
license_name: mistral-ai-research-licence
license_link: https://mistral.ai/licenses/MRL-0.1.md
base_model: []
library_name: transformers
tags:
- mergekit
- lumikabra-123B
lumikabra-123B v0.4
This is lumikabra. It's based on Mistral-Large-Instruct-2407 , merged with Magnum-v2-123B, Luminum-v0.1-123B and Tess-3-Mistral-Large-2-123B.
I shamelessly took this idea from FluffyKaeloky. Like him, i always had my troubles with each of the current large mistral based models. Either it gets repetitive, shows too many GPTisms, is too horny or too unhorny. RP and storytelling is always a matter of taste, and i found myself swiping too often for new answers or even fixing them when I missed a little spice or cleverness.
Luminum was a great improvement, mixing a lot of desired traits, but I still missed some spice, another sauce. So i took Luminum, added magnum again and also Tess for knowledge and structure.
This is the forth iteration. More of the mistral base model. Like all Lumikabra models so far, it tends to write pretty long and creative answers..
Quants
Merge Details
Merge Method
This model was merged using mergekit with the della_linear merge method using mistralai_Mistral-Large-Instruct-2407 as a base.
Configuration
The following YAML configuration was used to produce this model:
models:
- model: /workspace/text-generation-webui/models/anthracite-org_magnum-v2-123b
parameters:
weight: 0.25
density: 0.9
- model: /workspace/text-generation-webui/models/FluffyKaeloky_Luminum-v0.1-123B
parameters:
weight: 0.25
density: 0.9
- model: /workspace/text-generation-webui/models/migtissera_Tess-3-Mistral-Large-2-123B
parameters:
weight: 0.3
density: 0.9
merge_method: della_linear
base_model: /workspace/text-generation-webui/models/mistralai_Mistral-Large-Instruct-2407
parameters:
epsilon: 0.05
lambda: 1
int8_mask: true
dtype: bfloat16
Example Storywriting
Settings
max_new_tokens: 4096
min_p: 0.05
smoothing factor: 0.25
Write me a 3,000 word opening chapter of a 'high fantasy' novel, drawing inspiration from the writing styles of Patrick Rothfuss. Use first person personal. Include dialogue and internal monologues. The POV character for the opening chapter should be a 19 year old female elf bard who is looking for adventure. Add darkness to the story
The sun had nearly set when I found myself at the gates of Riverbend, a quaint village nestled in the heart of the Silverwood. I was Fayth, a wandering elf bard with a thirst for adventure and a head full of dreams. My fingers strummed absentmindedly on the strings of my lute, which hung from my back like a trusted companion.The guards eyed me warily as I approached, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. I could see the suspicion in their eyes, the way they sized me up like a potential threat. It was a look I had grown accustomed to, being an elf in a world dominated by humans.
"Halt!" one of the guards barked, holding up a gloved hand. "State your business in Riverbend, elf."
I flashed them a charming smile, one that had gotten me out of trouble more times than I could count. "Just a weary traveler, seeking a warm bed and a cold drink," I replied, my voice light and melodic. "I mean no harm."
The guards exchanged a look before the other one nodded, gesturing for me to enter. "Keep your head down and stay out of trouble," he warned. "We don't take kindly to thieves or rabble-rousers here."
I gave a mock salute, my smile never faltering. "Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream of it."
As I stepped through the gates and into the village proper, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. There was something...off about this place. The streets were too quiet, the air too still. It was as if the entire village was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
I made my way to the nearest tavern, a rundown establishment with a sign that read "The Laughing Lizard." Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I was immediately hit with a wall of noise - drunken laughter, raucous singing, and the clinking of mugs. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of ale and unwashed bodies, but it was a familiar smell, one that I found oddly comforting.
Heading to the bar, I ordered a drink and found a seat in the corner, where I could observe the patrons unnoticed. My fingers itched to pluck out a tune, to weave a story with my music and capture the attention of the crowd. But something held me back, a sense of caution that I couldn't quite shake.
As I sipped my ale, I noticed a group of cloaked figures huddled in the far corner, their faces obscured by deep hoods. They were whispering among themselves, their voices low and urgent. I strained my ears, trying to catch snippets of their conversation, but it was no use. The din of the tavern drowned out their words.
My curiosity piqued, I decided to investigate. Slipping out of my seat, I made my way towards their table, my footsteps light and sure. But before I could get close enough to hear what they were saying, one of the figures looked up, his eyes meeting mine through the shadow of his hood.
I felt a chill run down my spine, a sense of dread that rooted me to the spot. Those eyes...they were cold, empty, like the eyes of a corpse. I had seen that look before, in the faces of those who had given up on life, who had lost all hope.
The figure rose from his seat, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator stalking its prey. I knew I should run, that I was in danger, but I couldn't move. I was frozen, trapped by the weight of his gaze.
He reached out a pale, skeletal hand, his fingers brushing against my cheek. I flinched at the touch, which was ice-cold, like the grip of death itself.
"You're not welcome here, elf," he whispered, his voice a hollow rasp. "Leave now, while you still can."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I-I don't want any trouble," I stammered, my bravado melting away under the intensity of his stare. "I just want to sing, to bring some joy to this place."
The figure let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Joy? There is no joy left in Riverbend, only suffering and despair. You would do well to forget this place, to put it behind you like a bad dream."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the tavern. I watched him go, my mind racing with questions and fears. What was happening in this village? Why was everyone so afraid?
I knew I should heed his warning, that I should pack up my things and leave this place behind. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on, something that needed to be uncovered.
And so, with a deep breath and a prayer to the gods, I set out to unravel the secrets of Riverbend, even if it meant risking everything in the process.
As the night wore on, I found myself wandering the darkened streets of Riverbend, my senses on high alert. The village seemed deserted, the once-lively tavern now silent and still. I could feel eyes on me, watching from the shadows, but whenever I turned to look, there was no one there.
The unease that had settled over me in the tavern had only grown stronger, a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach that told me something was very wrong. I clutched my lute tighter, as if the instrument could somehow protect me from whatever danger lurked in the darkness.
As I rounded a corner, I noticed a dim light flickering in the window of a small cottage. The curtains were drawn, but I could hear muffled voices from inside, a desperate whisper that sent shivers down my spine.
Unable to resist my curiosity, I crept closer to the window, my heart pounding in my ears. Pressing myself against the rough stone wall, I strained to listen to the conversation within.
"...we have to do something," a woman's voice pleaded, her tone laced with fear. "We can't just sit here and wait for them to come for us."
"And what do you suggest we do?" a man's voice retorted, harsh and bitter. "We're trapped here, with nowhere to run and no one to turn to. We're all alone."
A child's sob cut through the tension, a plaintive cry that tugged at my heartstrings. "I don't want to die," the little one whimpered, the sound muffled as if they were burying their face in someone's shoulder.
The woman's voice softened, a soothing murmur as she tried to comfort the child. "Shh, it's going to be okay. We're not going to die. I promise you, we're going to find a way out of this."
But even through the thin walls, I could hear the doubt in her words, the tremble of uncertainty that belied her reassurances.
I felt a wave of anger and frustration wash over me. Whatever was happening in this village, these people were suffering, living in constant fear and desperation. And I had the power to help them, to bring some small measure of hope and light into their lives.
Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped away from the window and approached the front door, my knuckles rapping lightly on the weathered wood. The voices inside fell silent, and I could feel the weight of their stares, even through the door.
"Who is it?" the man called out, his voice wary and guarded.
"I mean you no harm," I said, my voice clear and steady. "I overheard your conversation, and I want to help. Please, let me in."
For a long moment, there was no response, only the sound of my own heartbeat and the distant hooting of an owl. Then, slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a haggard-looking man with a face lined with worry and exhaustion.
He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my lute and the colorful clothes that marked me as a bard. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone still suspicious but not unkind.
"I want to help," I repeated, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "I don't know what's happening in this village, but I know that music has the power to heal, to bring people together and give them hope. Please, let me try to make a difference."
The man hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at the woman and child who stood behind him, their eyes wide and frightened. Then, slowly, he nodded and stepped aside, allowing me to enter their home.
As I crossed the threshold, I knew that I had made the right decision. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever darkness threatened to consume this village, I was ready to face it head-on, with my lute as my weapon and my heart as my shield.
For in that moment, I was no longer just a wandering bard seeking adventure - I was a champion of light, a beacon of hope in a world of despair. And I would not rest until the shadows had been driven back and the people of Riverbend could once again live in peace and harmony.