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@generalpha

Prompt

God/Deicide

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

9 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

832 × 1248

Similar

. 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.
[Frazetta tribute sketch by Marco Turini] God/Deicide
n 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. His gaze never wavers, locked onto some unseen target in the distance. It is the gaze of a warrior, honed by years of hardship and survival. In that moment, Conan appears as an unstoppable force,
[warhammer] 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.
. 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.
n 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. His gaze never wavers, locked onto some unseen target in the distance. It is the gaze of a warrior, honed by years of hardship and survival. In that moment, Conan appears as an unstoppable force,
In the desolate steppe, Conan stands tall, Fierce eyes blazing, his grip tight on a warhammer's thrall. His hair wild, the wind whipping through, A warrior's gaze, piercing and true. Muscles honed by battles fought, Scars etched on his face, lessons hard-wrought. Warhammer gleaming, a weapon of might, Conan embodies strength, a force to ignite. Defiance and resilience in his every stance, A symbol of justice, ready to advance. With untamed power and unwavering will, Conan's legend grows, his des
Ernie Chan Savage Sword of Conan #22: In a bustling café, the Wounded Gallic Warrior and the woman resembling the Sleeping Hermaphrodite find solace amidst the chaos of the modern world. His tattered armor and fur-lined cloak clash with the contemporary setting, drawing curious glances. Her flowing garments blend seamlessly with both ancient and modern realms. Their eyes meet, conveying determination and empathy. The warrior confesses his struggle with the unfamiliar surroundings, seeking guidan
The Slavs knew well enough to fear him. A god of this primeval underworld, both venerated and cursed in turns. King of this pit where myths were born. But Alex had come to face no mere idol - Khors haunted her dreams, this blight that had driven her mother to the brink. Beyond the tomb's threshold, something was awakening. Slithering over stone like a loathsome serpent roused from slumber. Two baleful orbs blinked open, choking the passage in a miasma like the mouth of Hell. Alex clutched her bl
[Frazetta tribute sketch by Marco Turini] God/Deicide
In the desolate steppe, Conan stands tall, Fierce eyes blazing, his grip tight on a warhammer's thrall. His hair wild, the wind whipping through, A warrior's gaze, piercing and true. Muscles honed by battles fought, Scars etched on his face, lessons hard-wrought. Warhammer gleaming, a weapon of might, Conan embodies strength, a force to ignite. Defiance and resilience in his every stance, A symbol of justice, ready to advance. With untamed power and unwavering will, Conan's legend grows, his des
Conan, mighty and fierce, grips his gigantic hammer, His hands firmly locked, ready to unleash its power. Strength and determination emanate from his stance, A force to be reckoned with, ready for the battle's dance.battles, and with his warhammer held ready, he is prepared to unleash his wrath upon any who dare to challenge him.
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