null grips the pommel

    a young woman with piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde hair sits on the edge of a weathered stone ledge in a snowing medieval village, her elbow resting on her knee as she props her face against her hand, her expression distant and contemplative; her hair is cut into a short, choppy bob with soft, uneven bangs framing her pale face, strands subtly tousled by the cold air; **a few delicate snowflakes drift lazily through the misty atmosphere, some catching the dim light as they fall, melting the moment they touch the warmth of her coat**, while others settle onto the fur-lined hood of her oversized cream-colored winter parka, the thick fabric detailed with quilted stitching, deep pockets, and silver zippers, the slightly worn brand logo embroidered on the sleeve; beneath the open coat, she wears a form-fitting striped wool sweater with a slightly loose neckline, leaving her **intricate black ink tattoos fully visible across her neck and collarbones**—elaborate geometric and floral designs intertwining like sacred markings, bold yet elegant, adding a striking contrast against her fair skin; a string of worn wooden prayer beads drapes loosely around her neck, resting over the sweater, their earthy tones grounding her modern aesthetic in the ancient surroundings. her light-wash, ripped skinny jeans hug her frame, the frayed tear at her knee revealing a glimpse of skin, the denim rough and slightly worn from use; on her feet, she wears **high-top Nike sneakers in a mix of beige, white, and black, the iconic swoosh standing out against the muted medieval tones**, the laces loosely tied, the rubber soles showing faint signs of dirt from the damp cobblestone streets; the contrast between the futuristic footwear and the ancient surroundings adds to the surreal nature of her presence. behind her, the narrow medieval street is lined with half-timbered houses, their steep roofs dusted with snow, smoke curling from chimneys into the cold, foggy air; rough stone walls and wooden beams give the village an ancient, rustic feel, the damp cobblestones beneath her feet glistening in the dim, diffused light; **a few drifting snowflakes continue to swirl through the air, carried on the faintest breeze, adding an almost dreamlike quality to the scene**; a group of medieval villagers moves in the background, their expressions wary, their eyes occasionally glancing in her direction—men clad in heavy wool cloaks and fur-trimmed tunics, some gripping the hilts of their swords, while others carry sacks of goods slung over their shoulders; one man in a dark green hooded cloak stands slightly apart, his gaze locked onto her, his hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed blade, his expression unreadable; a tense yet quiet atmosphere lingers in the air, the contrast between the woman’s modern attire and the surrounding medieval setting making her presence feel almost surreal, as if she were a traveler out of time, lost in the folds of history.<lora:cheats.safetensors:1.0:1.0>
    dark fantasy and eerie scene, 1man, over seven feet tall and heavily muscled walking in a dusty grass plain. (His flat broad face is tattooed like shattered glass and his teeth are filed). Olive skin. he is almost bald with a dark thick braid starting at the center of his head and hanging down the left side of his chest, the braid is knotted with fetishes of finger bones, strips of gold-threaded silk, and animal canine teeth. He wear a cloak of hide over an armoured vest that appeared to be made of clam shells. Above his loincloth was a wide belt decorated with shriveled ears. He carry a big two-handed sword with a stone pommel and wooden grip. Two bone-handled daggers, each as long and broad-bladed as a short sword, are sheathed in the high moccasins that reached to just below his knees. Ethereal chains start from his neck. mystical touch, dread atmosphere, sense of suspense and wonder, view from above, (score_9, score_8_up:1.1), score_7_up, (reflective volumetric), raytracing, absurdres, dark, low-key, zavy-rmlght
    The sword plunges earthwards burying hilt-deep 'neath churned sod And armor plate shivers dully resonant as gauntlets loose their grip Pommel studded bright brass asterisk lying cold Hilt rag-doll limp where erstwhile warrior kneeled Arcthyril wards' eldritch phosphorescence fade Slow-dimming mote-star nova fading supernova Spell-force dissipated wan by increment Luminous blade etchmark of the heavens winks Out, great buckler falling board-sharp clang Shield rim bites hardpack adamantine mould The last breaths issue moist ephemerae tendrils Wreathe exhalations steam ghost grey ghost vapors Condensing mizzle shrouds noble profile marred By merciful oblivion final refuge granted Errant champion slumber deep peace of death Softer then when hero-king lies dreamt slumbrous in ivory repose Closing circuit chronicles tell unfinished Yet legend persists unbidden epically sung Through bard-song ballads troubadour's lute strings plucks Fame lives immortal, here dead Hamtaro Laid low, once mightiest of champions arrayed All valor concentrated compact vital kernel Heart ripped forth no sacrifice too costly to grant Great cause its full measure ... impressionist painting, loose brushwork, vibrant color, light and shadow play, captures feeling over form, Oil Painting, surreal, concept-art, fantasy, beautiful, painterly, detailed, textural, artistic, aesthetic, intricate details, highly detailed, vivid, volumetric lighting, detailed
    A **highly detailed, digitally rendered illustration** presents a striking woman with a **strong, angular face**, her expression intense and unreadable. Her **long, wavy platinum hair** cascades over her shoulders, partially veiling her **piercing violet eyes**, which gleam with quiet defiance. Her lips, painted in a deep shade of wine, are slightly parted, exuding an air of mystery. She wears an **elaborate dark teal high-collared robe** with **glowing silver embroidery in swirling, arcane patterns**, the fabric appearing rich and heavy with an almost liquid sheen. A **choker of interwoven platinum and sapphire filigree** encircles her throat, catching the ambient light. Her **gloved hands**, adorned with **silver rings etched with cryptic symbols**, grip the hilt of an **ornate obsidian sword**, its pommel shaped like an intricate crescent moon, and its blade reflecting a faint iridescence. The background is a **deep, ethereal amethyst gradient**, fading into a **soft haze of luminous cyan**, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that enhances the contrast between her **cool-toned attire and enigmatic presence**. The composition radiates **power and mysticism**, the interplay of **light, texture, and intricate design elements** elevating the illustration into a mesmerizing fusion of fantasy and elegance.
    dark fantasy and eerie scene, 1man, over seven feet tall and heavily muscled in a dusty grass plain with ghostly ethereal chains tied to his neck. wielding an enormous two-handed sword with a stone pommel and wooden grip on his back. ((he has a tattooed flat broad face, the tattoos are like shattered glass)). his teeth are filed. ((tanned white skin)). Face without beard, bald head with a dark thick braid starting at the center of his head and hanging down the left side of his chest. the braid is knotted with fetishes of finger bones, strips of gold-threaded silk, and animal canine teeth. He is wearing a cloak of hide over an armoured vest that appeared to be made of clam shells. Above his loincloth is a wide belt decorated with shriveled ears. Two bone-handled daggers, each as long and broad-bladed as a short sword, are sheathed in the high moccasins that reached to just below his knees. mystical touch, dread atmosphere, sense of suspense and wonder, view from above, (score_9, score_8_up:1.1), score_7_up, (reflective volumetric), raytracing, absurdres, dark, low-key, df_style, ArsMJStyle, dnddarkestfantasy
    a sword named "Boink" that is the very embodiment of comedic absurdity, lying on a sleek black reflective surface that only heightens its outlandish appearance. The grip is wrapped in soft, fluffy faux fur in bright, clashing colors—think neon pink and electric green—giving it the look of a child's craft project gone wrong. The fur is patchy and uneven, with bits of it sticking out at odd angles, making the grip both ridiculous and oddly comfortable. The pommel is an oversized, exaggerated whoopee cushion, complete with a small valve sticking out. Every time the sword is moved, it lets out a loud, comical fart noise that would make even the most serious warrior crack a smile. The crossguard is a pair of oversized, floppy bunny ears, made of soft, plush material. The ears droop down on either side of the blade, bouncing slightly with every movement, and have a faint squeaking sound when touched, reminiscent of a dog toy. The blade of "Boink" is straight but has a series of random, jagged edges that look more like a cartoonish lightning bolt than a functional weapon. It’s a shiny, metallic silver, but it’s covered in small, colorful doodles of smiley faces, stars, and squiggly lines, as if someone handed the blade to a group of children armed with markers. Engraved in the middle of the blade, in large, bubbly letters, is the word "Boink" . The engraving is filled with glittering, multicolored enamel, making the word shimmer and sparkle as light hits it. The black reflective surface beneath the sword contrasts starkly with its vibrant, playful design, reflecting the sword’s chaotic energy in a way that makes the whole scene look like something out of a surreal comedy sketch. The sword seems less like a weapon and more like a prop from a whimsical dream, its absurdity emphasized by the dark, serious backdrop.
    The sword plunges earthwards burying hilt-deep 'neath churned sod And armor plate shivers dully resonant as gauntlets loose their grip Pommel studded bright brass asterisk lying cold Hilt rag-doll limp where erstwhile warrior kneeled Arcthyril wards' eldritch phosphorescence fade Slow-dimming mote-star nova fading supernova Spell-force dissipated wan by increment Luminous blade etchmark of the heavens winks Out, great buckler falling board-sharp clang Shield rim bites hardpack adamantine mould The last breaths issue moist ephemerae tendrils Wreathe exhalations steam ghost grey ghost vapors Condensing mizzle shrouds noble profile marred By merciful oblivion final refuge granted Errant champion slumber deep peace of death Softer then when hero-king lies dreamt slumbrous in ivory repose Closing circuit chronicles tell unfinished Yet legend persists unbidden epically sung Through bard-song ballads troubadour's lute strings plucks Fame lives immortal, here dead Hamtaro Laid low, once mightiest of champions arrayed All valor concentrated compact vital kernel Heart ripped forth no sacrifice too costly to grant Great cause its full measure ... impressionist painting, loose brushwork, vibrant color, light and shadow play, captures feeling over form, Oil Painting, surreal, concept-art, fantasy, beautiful, painterly, detailed, textural, artistic, aesthetic, intricate details, highly detailed, vivid, volumetric lighting, detailed
    dark fantasy and eerie scene, 1man, over seven feet tall and heavily muscled in a dusty grass plain with ghost ethereal chains tied to his neck. ((he has a flat broad face tattooed like shattered glass)). his teeth are filed. ((Olive skin)). bald face and bald head with a dark thick braid starting at the center of his head and hanging down the left side of his chest. the braid is knotted with fetishes of finger bones, strips of gold-threaded silk, and animal canine teeth. He is wearing a cloak of hide over an armoured vest that appeared to be made of clam shells. Above his loincloth is a wide belt decorated with shriveled ears. a big two-handed sword with a stone pommel and wooden grip on his back. Two bone-handled daggers, each as long and broad-bladed as a short sword, are sheathed in the high moccasins that reached to just below his knees. mystical touch, dread atmosphere, sense of suspense and wonder, view from above, (score_9, score_8_up:1.1), score_7_up, (reflective volumetric), raytracing, absurdres, dark, low-key, df_style, ArsMJStyle, dnddarkestfantasy
    dark fantasy and eerie scene, 1man, over seven feet tall and heavily muscled in a dusty grass plain with ghost ethereal chains tied to his neck. ((he has a flat broad face tattooed like shattered glass)). his teeth are filed. (Olive skin). bald face and bald head with a dark thick braid starting at the center of his head and hanging down the left side of his chest. the braid is knotted with fetishes of finger bones, strips of gold-threaded silk, and animal canine teeth. He is wearing a cloak of hide over an armoured vest that appeared to be made of clam shells. Above his loincloth is a wide belt decorated with shriveled ears. He's wielding a big two-handed sword with a stone pommel and wooden grip. Two bone-handled daggers, each as long and broad-bladed as a short sword, are sheathed in the high moccasins that reached to just below his knees. mystical touch, dread atmosphere, sense of suspense and wonder, view from above, (score_9, score_8_up:1.1), score_7_up, (reflective volumetric), raytracing, absurdres, dark, low-key,
    In the heart of a desolate, windswept tundra, where the snow falls in endless sheets and the air is sharp with the bite of frost, a lone figure trudges through the icy expanse. He is a **Frost-Born**, a warrior whose very essence is intertwined with the cold. His towering frame is clad in armor forged from ice and steel, each plate shimmering with an iridescent sheen of blue and silver. His eyes, a piercing shade of glacial blue, burn with an intensity that speaks of centuries of survival in the harshest of environments. His face is rugged and scarred, with a strong jawline and a nose that bears the faintest hint of frostbite. His expression is one of grim determination, his lips set in a hard line as he grips a massive, two-handed axe, its blade glowing faintly with a cold, blue light. His armor is a masterpiece of both craftsmanship and elemental blessing. The pauldrons are shaped like jagged ice shards, their edges glinting in the dim light. His chest plate is adorned with the symbol of a snowflake, surrounded by a circle of runes that pulse faintly with a blue light. His gauntlets are reinforced with steel, their surfaces etched with patterns of swirling snow, and his boots are heavy and solid, designed to anchor him against the fiercest blizzards. Around his waist, a belt of dark leather holds an array of small pouches filled with herbs, tools, and other survival gear. In his hands, he carries a massive, two-handed axe, its head forged from a metal that seems to hum with latent power. The haft is wrapped in leather, worn smooth by years of use, and the pommel is shaped like a snowflake, its surface crackling with faint sparks of frost. His cloak, a deep, midnight blue fabric edged with silver thread, billows behind him in the wind, the edges frayed and scorched as if it has weathered the fury of countless storms. Beneath the armor, his body is a testament to his strength and endurance, his muscles coiled like springs, ready to unleash devastating force at a moment’s notice. His hair, a wild mane of silver streaked with black, is whipped into a frenzy by the wind, adding to his air of untamed power. Around his neck, he wears a pendant of polished sapphire, its surface etched with the symbol of a snowflake, a reminder of his elemental calling. The Frost-Born stands atop a rocky outcrop, the wind and snow lashing at his form as he raises his axe to the sky. The tundra stretches out before him, a sea of white that ripples like waves under the relentless wind. In the distance, the faint outline of an ancient fortress rises from the snow, its stone walls weathered and cracked, yet still standing as a testament to the resilience of those who built it. The sky above is a vast expanse of gray, broken only by the occasional wisp of cloud, and the snow falls in endless sheets, casting a blanket of silence over the land. In his hand, the axe crackles with energy, the runes along its surface flaring to life as he channels the power of the frost into the weapon. His eyes glow brighter, and his voice rises above the howl of the wind, a deep, resonant chant that seems to echo through the very fabric of reality. The storm responds to his call, the snow whipping into a frenzy, and the air is thick with the scent of ice and ozone. The scene is one of epic grandeur, a moment frozen in time as the Frost-Born stands alone against the fury of the tundra. The colors of the tundra are muted and dark, the whites and blues of the snow contrasting with the gleaming silver of his armor and the faint, electric blue of his eyes. The air is thick with the promise of power, of battles yet to be fought and legends yet to be written. This is a moment of defiance, a testament to the unyielding spirit of the Frost-Born, his strength and courage shining as brightly as the frost itself. Let this image be a masterpiece of fantasy art, a tribute to the raw power of the tundra and the fierce, unyielding spirit of those who walk the path of the warrior. Let it capture the essence of the Frost-Born, his power, his resolve, and his unbreakable bond with the elements. Let it be a scene that inspires awe and wonder, a glimpse into a realm where the tundra is not just a place of hardship, but a proving ground for heroes. soft pastel anime, Magic style, mythp0rt, DB4RZ
    Standing proudly atop a windswept cliff, a fearless female warrior embodies the spirit of ancient Greek and Roman fighters. Her commanding presence is framed against the vast, sunlit expanse of the open sea, where Roman triremes sail gracefully across the sparkling waters, their sails billowing in the gentle breeze. The azure sky stretches endlessly, dotted with soft, wispy clouds, and the golden rays of the sun illuminate the scene, casting a radiant glow on the warrior and her surroundings. She is clad in a formidable yet elegant ensemble of battle-worn armor. Her lorica segmentata, a banded leather armor, hugs her torso with intricate precision, its dark brown surface gleaming with faint traces of wear from countless battles. The armor's polished bronze accents catch the sunlight, glinting like fire. Beneath the chest piece, a pristine white tunic adorned with red, geometric ornaments peeks through, its flowing fabric fluttering softly in the breeze. From her waist cascades a layered skirt: the upper layer, a traditional Roman pteruges, made of reinforced leather strips that provide both protection and mobility, and beneath it, a vibrant red cloth skirt that adds a touch of regal elegance to her battle-ready appearance. Her knee-high leather boots, laced tightly for support, are scuffed from the rugged terrain of the battlefield, a testament to her relentless endurance. In her left hand, she grips a massive, circular shield, its surface an ornate masterpiece of golden patterns that depict mythological scenes of gods, heroes, and triumphs. The shield's edge is reinforced with polished bronze, and it gleams in the sunlight, as though imbued with divine protection. In her right hand, she wields a gladius sword, its blade sharp and deadly, the hilt wrapped in leather for a secure grip. The sword's bronze pommel reflects her strength and determination, a weapon that has seen countless victories. Her long, flowing brown hair cascades down her back, caught in the ocean breeze, and her determined expression radiates confidence and purpose. Her piercing eyes are fixed on the horizon, as though foreseeing the battles yet to come. The wind tugs at the loose strands of her hair and the hem of her tunic, adding a dynamic energy to her poised stance. The cliff beneath her feet is rugged and uneven, its jagged edges plunging dramatically into the foaming waves below. Sea spray rises from the crashing surf, glinting like tiny diamonds in the sunlight. The open sea behind her stretches infinitely, its deep blue surface shimmering under the radiant sunlight, dotted with the silhouettes of Roman ships, their banners fluttering proudly in the breeze. Golden sunlight bathes the scene, casting long shadows and highlighting the rich textures of her armor and the intricate details of her shield. The warmth of the sun contrasts beautifully with the cool tones of the ocean and sky, creating a harmonious and uplifting atmosphere. Around her, the wind carries the faint cries of seagulls and the rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the cliffside, a serene backdrop to her powerful and commanding presence. This is a scene of glory and resilience, capturing the essence of a warrior who embodies strength, grace, and the unyielding spirit of an ancient era. The bright and sunny color palette emphasizes her role as a beacon of hope and valor, standing resolute against the challenges of both land and sea. DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt <lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>
    A Barbarian King on a Throne of Bones – Seated atop a massive throne made entirely of fused skulls and colossal rib bones, a barbarian king with a wild mane of silver hair and glowing amber eyes glares forward with an expression of brutal dominance. His fur-lined cloak, ragged and stained with battle, drapes over his massive shoulders, revealing arms covered in tribal scars that tell the stories of countless wars. His left hand grips the pommel of an enormous battle-axe, its blade still slick with fresh crimson, while his right hand rests lazily on the armrest, fingers idly tracing the cracks in the bones beneath them. Around him, towering stone pillars, carved with ancient war glyphs, rise toward a sky stained red with the light of a burning sun. The ground is littered with shattered weapons and rusted armor, remnants of those who dared to challenge his reign. Beyond the throne, the silhouette of a fortress carved into the side of a jagged mountain looms in the distance, its fires burning like the eyes of a beast. The king’s breath is slow and measured, his golden crown dented and worn—less a symbol of royalty, and more a trophy of survival. The throne room is silent, save for the occasional gust of wind that stirs the banners above, whispering of bloodshed and victory. DB4RZ, DB4RZ style painting, NeoPigma, in the style of cksc, anime, cyberpunk, a masterpiece, award winning,<lora:CPA:0.5><lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ:0.3><lora:NeoPigmaV3:0.35><lora:ck-shadow-circuit-000021:0.35>

      FLUX

    • Dev - flux_dev.safetensors