Placeholder: "What fish of all fishes, Swims strong in the flood, But hath learnt little wit to beware Thine head must thou buy, From abiding in hell, And find me the wan waters' flame "'Andvari folk call me, Call Oinn my father, Over many a force have I fared; For a Norn of ill-luck, This life on me lay Through wet ways ever to wade.' "What fish of all fishes, Swims strong in the flood, But hath learnt little wit to beware Thine head must thou buy, From abiding in hell, And find me the wan waters' flame "'Andvari folk call me, Call Oinn my father, Over many a force have I fared; For a Norn of ill-luck, This life on me lay Through wet ways ever to wade.'

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@generalpha

Prompt

"What fish of all fishes, Swims strong in the flood, But hath learnt little wit to beware Thine head must thou buy, From abiding in hell, And find me the wan waters' flame "'Andvari folk call me, Call Oinn my father, Over many a force have I fared; For a Norn of ill-luck, This life on me lay Through wet ways ever to wade.'

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

14 days ago

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SSD-1B

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What fish of all fishes, Swims strong in the flood, But hath learnt little wit to beware Thine head must thou buy, From abiding in hell, And find me the wan waters' flame 'Andvari folk call me, Call Oinn my father, Over many a force have I fared; For a Norn of ill-luck, This life on me lay Through wet ways ever to wade.
envision the scene. An overhead view, as if I am watching from above. The cold sea breeze cuts through the air, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. The waters around the Viking's vessel shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the pale moonlight. The drakkar itself, a magnificent sight, its sleek figure slicing through the waves. I can see it now, the lifeless figure of the Viking Yard lying peacefully in the boat, his weathered face etched with the marks of battles fought and won. His ey
envision the scene. An overhead view, as if I am watching from above. The cold sea breeze cuts through the air, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. The waters around the Viking's vessel shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the pale moonlight. The drakkar itself, a magnificent sight, its sleek figure slicing through the waves. I can see it now, the lifeless figure of the Viking Yard lying peacefully in the boat, his weathered face etched with the marks of battles fought and won. His ey
The squirming tentacles of the Giant Squid coil around the Balrog, attempting to ensnare it within their slimy grasp. But the Balrog, infused with an infernal resilience, resists the suffocating embrace, its whip slashing through the water, its fiery lash searing the flesh of the cephalopod. Each strike reverberates through the cavern, a symphony of clash and sizzle. The battle rages on, the clash of elemental forces echoing through the cavern's depths. The Giant Squid, with its immense strength
He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.
A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
On Pandora - The white Navi cross the river
The squirming tentacles of the Giant Squid coil around the Balrog, attempting to ensnare it within their slimy grasp. But the Balrog, infused with an infernal resilience, resists the suffocating embrace, its whip slashing through the water, its fiery lash searing the flesh of the cephalopod. Each strike reverberates through the cavern, a symphony of clash and sizzle. The battle rages on, the clash of elemental forces echoing through the cavern's depths. The Giant Squid, with its immense strength
He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.
A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
A Balrog fights the Giant Squid in a sea cave
A Balrog fights the Giant Squid in a sea cave
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