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Prompt: The Dark Lord sitting on a throne, a figure of immense power and darkness, shrouded in a cloak of impenetrable darkness, fluttering in the wind like a living being, his face veiled in deep shadows, eyes glowing like hot coals, hands covered in long, dark robes, holding a scepter forged from the darkest ore of the shadowlands, adorned with ominous symbols, a chain of dark jewels around his neck shimmering like starlight in the cave's glowing crystals, exuding an aura of indescribable power and insatiable greed for darkness and corruption.
p7mx3849

p7mx3849

Prompt

The Dark Lord sitting on a throne, a figure of immense power and darkness, shrouded in a cloak of impenetrable darkness, fluttering in the wind like a living being, his face veiled in deep shadows, eyes glowing like hot coals, hands covered in long, dark robes, holding a scepter forged from the darkest ore of the shadowlands, adorned with ominous symbols, a chain of dark jewels around his neck shimmering like starlight in the cave's glowing crystals, exuding an aura of indescribable power and insatiable greed for darkness and corruption.
The Dark Lord sitting on a throne, a figure of immense power and darkness, shrouded in a cloak of... [more]
Model: Stable Diffusion XL 1.0 (1024)
Width: 1024Height: 1024
Scale: 16Steps: 25
Sampler: Seed: 9804648

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Prompt: <mymodel> Full body, Eldritch, DemonPunk, Aion: the embodiment of Time itself, transcends the linear boundaries that confine lesser beings. His very form is a testament to this, flickering and shimmering as if he exists across countless moments simultaneously. In place of a head, Aion presents an ever-changing tapestry of faces—each a reflection of a significant figure from the observer's past, present, or potential future. These visages, etched with the weight of countless lifetimes, seem to whisper secrets only time could tell, offering glimpses into the intricate possibilities that lie within the threads of fate.His body, a paradox of age and timelessness, bears the marks of eons in weathered skin and ancient wrinkles, yet it also radiates an otherworldly luminescence, as though illuminated by the birth and death of stars. From his lower half, a mesmerizing tangle of tendrils writhes and coils, their movements defying the laws of physics and space. These appendages, resembling the branches of an ancient tree or the roots of some unfathomable cosmic plant, seem to extend beyond the confines of the present moment, occasionally brushing against the observer and sending ripples of unease through their being.Aion wields a staff of immeasurable length, its surface etched with intricate symbols that shift and morph with each passing instant. These markings, representing the fate of all, the ultimate prophecy, and the myriad possibilities branching out like infinite pathways, speak of Aion's absolute command over the temporal currents. Yet, within his timeless gaze lies a profound sorrow, a reflection of the burden he carries—witnessing the endless cycle of birth, death, triumph, and tragedy that unfolds across the tapestry of existence.Though his presence inspires awe, it also evokes a deep sense of unease. The weight of all that was, is, and will be presses down upon those in his proximity, a stark reminder of their own fleeting mortality and the relentless march of time.