Placeholder: Bakasura The Man Eater Bakasura The Man Eater

@generalpha

Prompt

Bakasura The Man Eater

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

4 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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Bakasura The Man Eater
Upon reaching Lanka, a fierce battle ensued between Ram and Ravana. The clash of their powers shook the earth, and the heavens themselves seemed to tremble. Ravana, with his ten heads and twenty arms, unleashed a torrent of dark magic and formidable weapons, seeking to overpower Ram. But Ram, armed with his divine bow and arrows, fought valiantly. His arrows pierced through the ranks of Ravana's demon army, striking fear into their hearts. With each strike, Ram displayed his mastery over divine
Plague demon rampage
Plague demon rampage
Seeing no weakness, Azazel snarls in rage— "Fool! Know you not the powers you trifle with?" And with that, in smoke and flame, he departs. Dahlia watches, waiting for their next bout— An endless clash of dark and light continues, And she, a stalwart guardian, abides.
Seeing no weakness, Azazel snarls in rage— "Fool! Know you not the powers you trifle with?" And with that, in smoke and flame, he departs. Dahlia watches, waiting for their next bout— An endless clash of dark and light continues, And she, a stalwart guardian, abides.
[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.
[war hammer] 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 g
Seeing no weakness, Azazel snarls in rage— "Fool! Know you not the powers you trifle with?" And with that, in smoke and flame, he departs. Dahlia watches, waiting for their next bout— An endless clash of dark and light continues, And she, a stalwart guardian, abides.
Upon reaching Lanka, a fierce battle ensued between Ram and Ravana. The clash of their powers shook the earth, and the heavens themselves seemed to tremble. Ravana, with his ten heads and twenty arms, unleashed a torrent of dark magic and formidable weapons, seeking to overpower Ram. But Ram, armed with his divine bow and arrows, fought valiantly. His arrows pierced through the ranks of Ravana's demon army, striking fear into their hearts. With each strike, Ram displayed his mastery over divine
The Beast, a towering monstrosity with eyes that glow like the fires of the underworld, is said to be the embodiment of an ancient curse. With horns that twist like the roots of ancient trees and fur as dark as the night, it strikes terror into all who dare to wander into its domain. Its massive, gnarled limbs crush the earth beneath it, and its breath, a cold fog, brings an unnatural chill to the air.
[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.

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