Placeholder: He was called the Precursor of the salvation of the Orcs, who he enjoined to follow the laws of the sky Gods to end the Crisis. His charisma and growing following were enough to summon together the despairing Dukes of the great Orc clans for parley. The Precursor’s Laws were declared to all, and the Dukes agreed to a truce. Miraculously, the Peace held. The lights in the sky ceased, and although the desert never released the equatorial lands, a semblance of normality returned. There was room en He was called the Precursor of the salvation of the Orcs, who he enjoined to follow the laws of the sky Gods to end the Crisis. His charisma and growing following were enough to summon together the despairing Dukes of the great Orc clans for parley. The Precursor’s Laws were declared to all, and the Dukes agreed to a truce. Miraculously, the Peace held. The lights in the sky ceased, and although the desert never released the equatorial lands, a semblance of normality returned. There was room en

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Prompt

He was called the Precursor of the salvation of the Orcs, who he enjoined to follow the laws of the sky Gods to end the Crisis. His charisma and growing following were enough to summon together the despairing Dukes of the great Orc clans for parley. The Precursor’s Laws were declared to all, and the Dukes agreed to a truce. Miraculously, the Peace held. The lights in the sky ceased, and although the desert never released the equatorial lands, a semblance of normality returned. There was room en

statue, doubles, twins, entangled fingers, Worst Quality, ugly, ugly face, watermarks, undetailed, unrealistic, double limbs, worst hands, worst body, Disfigured, double, twin, dialog, book, multiple fingers, deformed, deformity, ugliness, poorly drawn face, extra_limb, extra limbs, bad hands, wrong hands, poorly drawn hands, messy drawing, cropped head, bad anatomy, lowres, extra digit, fewer digit, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, watermark, missing fingers, cropped, poorly drawn

1 year ago

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SSD-1B

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In the murky depths of the mud, a crouching orc lurks, muscles coiled like tightly wound springs, ready to pounce on his prey. His eyes gleam with a feral intensity, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The stench of decay hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of blood and sweat. The orc's thick, gnarled fingers dig into the soft earth, his claws leaving deep gouges in the mud. Every sinew of his powerful frame tenses, anticipation thrumming through his veins like a dr
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Gul'khar the orc knight
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. His muscular form is defined by years of battle, and his chiseled features bear the scars of countless encounters. In his hands, Conan wields a warhammer, its weight seemingly insignificant within his mighty grasp. The weapon gleams in the sunlight, a testament to the countless foes it has crushed under its devastating blows. With every sinewy muscle flexed, Conan exudes an aura of raw power and indomitable strength.
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