Placeholder: 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 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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Prompt

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

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

6 days 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
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
. 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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[art by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird] Orc Green Grey, a fearsome creature of the dark lands, born of shadow and malice. His skin, a sickly hue of green and grey, marked with scars of countless battles fought in service of the Dark Lord. Standing tall and imposing, his muscles taut with strength honed through years of warfare. His eyes, gleaming with a cruel intelligence, ever watchful for any sign of weakness in his enemies. Clad in armor forged in the fires of Mordor, he wields a wicked blade
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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.
[art by Alex Maleev] In the heart of a rugged battlefield, a colossal bald warrior, a behemoth of strength and determination, engages in a fierce confrontation with a savage orc. The clash between the two titans reverberates through the air, echoing the primal struggle for dominance. The giant warrior, muscles bulging and eyes ablaze, wields a massive weapon with precision, while the orc, a formidable foe with green skin and tusks, retaliates with brutal ferocity. Each blow exchanged is a testam
a legend speaks of the Precursor, a figure foretold to be the harbinger of salvation for the Orcs, a race plagued by turmoil and strife. The Precursor emerges as a beacon of hope, calling upon the Orcs to heed the laws of the sky Gods in order to bring an end to the Crisis that has gripped their lands. With a charisma that sparks a fire in the hearts of his followers, the Precursor gathers the despairing Dukes of the great Orc clans for a momentous parley.
Original art by John Totleben from the double-page center spread in Swamp Thing #60, published by DC Comics, May 1987.
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