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Максим Комаровский

мк

Максим Комаровский

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1boy, solo, male, drow, dark elf, elf, mature male, 20 years old appearance, dark gray skin, athletic build, pointed ears, long loose silver hair, hair past shoulders, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, dark red coat, long coat, coat open, black tank top, sleeveless, bare shoulders, black pants, black fingerless gloves, wristband, left wrist, black belt, holding sword, black jian, straight sword, right hand, sheath at left hip, standing, from below, full body, dutch angle, confident, half-closed eyes, smirk, looking down at viewer, sidewise glance, dark aura, black smoke, wisps of shadow, cave, cavern interior, rocky walls, stalactites, wet stone, falling dust motes, dramatic lighting, rim light, cool blue violet key, deep shadows, low-key palette, monochrome stone, crimson accent, cinematic, quiet dread The camera sits low and close to the wet cave floor, tilted a few degrees off level, looking up at one lone male drow who stands full-figure at the centre of frame against the cavern's rough stone walls. His weight rests on his left leg, right hip pushed slightly forward, shoulders squared but angled a quarter turn away from the lens so his chest and face read three-quarter toward the viewer. Dark gray skin, cool as slate, catches the cave's single cold blue-violet light from high left: bright along his left cheekbone, nose bridge, left shoulder and the outer edge of his left arm, falling into deep shadow on the right side of his face and the right side of his body. Loose silver hair, long and unbraided, spills past his shoulders, some strands lifted and drifting in the slow air of the cave, and a few pieces fall forward across his chest. Pointed ears break the hairline on both sides, their tips catching the light. Amethyst eyes under half-lowered lids glance sideways and down toward the viewer with a small lopsided smirk, one brow faintly higher than the other, chin tipped a fraction down in a stance of quiet sovereignty. The dark red coat, open at the front, hangs long to mid-thigh, its collar standing; the black tank top shows beneath at the chest and is fitted close over an athletic torso and arms. Black trousers taper into boots braced on the uneven rock, a black belt cinched at the waist. Both hands are gloved in black fingerless leather, the bared fingers visible at the knuckles and tips; a plain black wristband wraps his left wrist. His right arm is bent and relaxed at his side, fist closed around the black hilt of a black jian, the sword held point-up, its straight dark blade catching a single thin highlight along its edge; the scabbard hangs at his left hip. A dark aura breathes off him: thin black smoke and shadow wisps unwinding from his shoulders, the hem of his coat and the ground around his boots, blurring the back edge of his silhouette so the far wall of the cave dims behind it. The cavern opens behind and above him — layered rock, dripping stalactites, a scatter of pale dust motes floating in the cold shaft of light, everything beyond the aura in cool desaturated blue-grey, so his dark red coat and the violet of his eyes are the only warm and saturated notes in the frame. The single light source is the cold shaft from the upper left; beyond its reach and beyond the aura's soft glow, the cave recedes into near-black. Dust settles only on the upward-facing lips of the rocks and on the tops of his shoulders. Dark, imposing, quietly patient.
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Original Prompt
эльф, дроу, мужчина, 20 лет на вид, темно-серая кожа, атлетичное телосложение, распущенные серебристые волосы, аметистовые глаза, заостренные уши, Повелитель теней. Одет в темно-красное пальто, черную майку, черные брюки, перчатки без пальцев, черные перчатки, повязка на запястье, пояс. Держит в правой руке черный цзянь. Темная аура. Стоит на фоне пещеры
Mode
pro
Size
1408 x 1408
Sampling Method
Euler
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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мк
1boy, solo, male, drow, dark elf, elf, mature male, 20 years old appearance, dark gray skin, athletic build, pointed ears, long loose silver hair, hair past shoulders, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, dark red coat, long coat, coat open, black tank top, sleeveless, bare shoulders, black pants, black fingerless gloves, wristband, left wrist, black belt, holding sword, black jian, straight sword, right hand, sheath at left hip, standing, from below, full body, dutch angle, confident, half-closed eyes, smirk, looking down at viewer, sidewise glance, dark aura, black smoke, wisps of shadow, cave, cavern interior, rocky walls, stalactites, wet stone, falling dust motes, dramatic lighting, rim light, cool blue violet key, deep shadows, low-key palette, monochrome stone, crimson accent, cinematic, quiet dread The camera sits low and close to the wet cave floor, tilted a few degrees off level, looking up at one lone male drow who stands full-figure at the centre of frame against the cavern's rough stone walls. His weight rests on his left leg, right hip pushed slightly forward, shoulders squared but angled a quarter turn away from the lens so his chest and face read three-quarter toward the viewer. Dark gray skin, cool as slate, catches the cave's single cold blue-violet light from high left: bright along his left cheekbone, nose bridge, left shoulder and the outer edge of his left arm, falling into deep shadow on the right side of his face and the right side of his body. Loose silver hair, long and unbraided, spills past his shoulders, some strands lifted and drifting in the slow air of the cave, and a few pieces fall forward across his chest. Pointed ears break the hairline on both sides, their tips catching the light. Amethyst eyes under half-lowered lids glance sideways and down toward the viewer with a small lopsided smirk, one brow faintly higher than the other, chin tipped a fraction down in a stance of quiet sovereignty. The dark red coat, open at the front, hangs long to mid-thigh, its collar standing; the black tank top shows beneath at the chest and is fitted close over an athletic torso and arms. Black trousers taper into boots braced on the uneven rock, a black belt cinched at the waist. Both hands are gloved in black fingerless leather, the bared fingers visible at the knuckles and tips; a plain black wristband wraps his left wrist. His right arm is bent and relaxed at his side, fist closed around the black hilt of a black jian, the sword held point-up, its straight dark blade catching a single thin highlight along its edge; the scabbard hangs at his left hip. A dark aura breathes off him: thin black smoke and shadow wisps unwinding from his shoulders, the hem of his coat and the ground around his boots, blurring the back edge of his silhouette so the far wall of the cave dims behind it. The cavern opens behind and above him — layered rock, dripping stalactites, a scatter of pale dust motes floating in the cold shaft of light, everything beyond the aura in cool desaturated blue-grey, so his dark red coat and the violet of his eyes are the only warm and saturated notes in the frame. The single light source is the cold shaft from the upper left; beyond its reach and beyond the aura's soft glow, the cave recedes into near-black. Dust settles only on the upward-facing lips of the rocks and on the tops of his shoulders. Dark, imposing, quietly patient.
Максим Комаровский
AI artwork
мк
1boy, solo, drow, male elf, dark gray skin, pointed ears, long pointed ears, athletic build, slim muscular, young adult, 20 years old appearance, long loose silver hair, hair down, straight silver hair falling past shoulders, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, dark red coat, long coat, wide sleeves, black silk shirt, black pants, black fingerless gloves, black gloves, wristband, belt, holding sword, black jian, chinese sword, straight sword, right hand, dark aura, shadow lord, standing, cave interior, rocky cave walls, stalactites, dark background, from side, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, half-closed eyes, light smile, dutch angle, low camera, He is seen from a low three-quarter side angle, turned so his right shoulder comes toward the lens, the wide sleeve of the dark red coat falling back from his forearm as his right hand closes around the black jian's wrapped grip; the blade runs diagonally down across the frame toward the lower left corner, its straight edge catching a thin cold line of light, the flat of the blade reading matte and swallowing the glow rather than reflecting it. His weight rests on his left leg, right hip dropped, torso twisted a half-step away from square; the coat hangs open over the black silk shirt, whose sheen is the only slick surface in the frame, its collar open at the throat above the closed belt and the black pants. Fingerless black gloves leave the knuckles and the first joints of his fingers bare, the backs of the hands plated in black leather, the wristband a dark band tight around his right wrist; over the other hand the black glove is whole. His pointed ears stand clear of the loose silver hair, which falls unbound over both shoulders and past the coat's lapels, strands lifting slightly as if the air around him were moving. Above and behind him the cave opens into absolute darkness; a few damp limestone folds and one hanging stalactite catch the light at the midground, and beyond them the stone recedes into black. The light comes from a single unseen source low at frame left, cold and blue-white; it picks out the ridge of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, the silver hair, and the near rim of the coat's wide sleeve, while the far side of his face and body fall into the same blackness as the cave. Around his shoulders and along the sword arm a dark aura clings — not an even glow but ragged ribbons of shadow that smear the cave wall behind him, drifting and fraying at the edges, so that the rock directly behind his back is darker than the rock around it. His head is tilted a fraction down, amethyst eyes half-lidded, catching one small violet glint from the cave light, gaze fixed straight at the viewer with a faint closed-lip smile at one corner of the mouth — amused, unhurried, entirely unthreatened. Palette limited to dark red, black, silver-white and one violet accent at the eyes, all sitting on cold gray stone. The blade's lower half is the darkest thing in the picture and the damp floor beneath it holds a soft, dim smear of reflection that is darker and softer than the steel it answers. Quiet menace.
Максим Комаровский
AI artwork
мк
1boy, solo, drow, male elf, dark gray skin, pointed ears, long pointed ears, athletic build, slim muscular, young adult, 20 years old appearance, long loose silver hair, hair down, straight silver hair falling past shoulders, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, dark red coat, long coat, wide sleeves, black silk shirt, black pants, black fingerless gloves, black gloves, wristband, belt, holding sword, black jian, chinese sword, straight sword, right hand, dark aura, shadow lord, standing, cave interior, rocky cave walls, stalactites, dark background, from side, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, half-closed eyes, light smile, dutch angle, low camera, He is seen from a low three-quarter side angle, turned so his right shoulder comes toward the lens, the wide sleeve of the dark red coat falling back from his forearm as his right hand closes around the black jian's wrapped grip; the blade runs diagonally down across the frame toward the lower left corner, its straight edge catching a thin cold line of light, the flat of the blade reading matte and swallowing the glow rather than reflecting it. His weight rests on his left leg, right hip dropped, torso twisted a half-step away from square; the coat hangs open over the black silk shirt, whose sheen is the only slick surface in the frame, its collar open at the throat above the closed belt and the black pants. Fingerless black gloves leave the knuckles and the first joints of his fingers bare, the backs of the hands plated in black leather, the wristband a dark band tight around his right wrist; over the other hand the black glove is whole. His pointed ears stand clear of the loose silver hair, which falls unbound over both shoulders and past the coat's lapels, strands lifting slightly as if the air around him were moving. Above and behind him the cave opens into absolute darkness; a few damp limestone folds and one hanging stalactite catch the light at the midground, and beyond them the stone recedes into black. The light comes from a single unseen source low at frame left, cold and blue-white; it picks out the ridge of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, the silver hair, and the near rim of the coat's wide sleeve, while the far side of his face and body fall into the same blackness as the cave. Around his shoulders and along the sword arm a dark aura clings — not an even glow but ragged ribbons of shadow that smear the cave wall behind him, drifting and fraying at the edges, so that the rock directly behind his back is darker than the rock around it. His head is tilted a fraction down, amethyst eyes half-lidded, catching one small violet glint from the cave light, gaze fixed straight at the viewer with a faint closed-lip smile at one corner of the mouth — amused, unhurried, entirely unthreatened. Palette limited to dark red, black, silver-white and one violet accent at the eyes, all sitting on cold gray stone. The blade's lower half is the darkest thing in the picture and the damp floor beneath it holds a soft, dim smear of reflection that is darker and softer than the steel it answers. Quiet menace.
Максим Комаровский
AI artwork
мк
1boy, solo, drow, male elf, dark gray skin, pointed ears, long pointed ears, athletic build, slim muscular, young adult, 20 years old appearance, long loose silver hair, hair down, straight silver hair falling past shoulders, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, dark red coat, long coat, wide sleeves, black silk shirt, black pants, black fingerless gloves, black gloves, wristband, belt, holding sword, black jian, chinese sword, straight sword, right hand, dark aura, shadow lord, standing, cave interior, rocky cave walls, stalactites, dark background, from side, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, half-closed eyes, light smile, dutch angle, low camera, He is seen from a low three-quarter side angle, turned so his right shoulder comes toward the lens, the wide sleeve of the dark red coat falling back from his forearm as his right hand closes around the black jian's wrapped grip; the blade runs diagonally down across the frame toward the lower left corner, its straight edge catching a thin cold line of light, the flat of the blade reading matte and swallowing the glow rather than reflecting it. His weight rests on his left leg, right hip dropped, torso twisted a half-step away from square; the coat hangs open over the black silk shirt, whose sheen is the only slick surface in the frame, its collar open at the throat above the closed belt and the black pants. Fingerless black gloves leave the knuckles and the first joints of his fingers bare, the backs of the hands plated in black leather, the wristband a dark band tight around his right wrist; over the other hand the black glove is whole. His pointed ears stand clear of the loose silver hair, which falls unbound over both shoulders and past the coat's lapels, strands lifting slightly as if the air around him were moving. Above and behind him the cave opens into absolute darkness; a few damp limestone folds and one hanging stalactite catch the light at the midground, and beyond them the stone recedes into black. The light comes from a single unseen source low at frame left, cold and blue-white; it picks out the ridge of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, the silver hair, and the near rim of the coat's wide sleeve, while the far side of his face and body fall into the same blackness as the cave. Around his shoulders and along the sword arm a dark aura clings — not an even glow but ragged ribbons of shadow that smear the cave wall behind him, drifting and fraying at the edges, so that the rock directly behind his back is darker than the rock around it. His head is tilted a fraction down, amethyst eyes half-lidded, catching one small violet glint from the cave light, gaze fixed straight at the viewer with a faint closed-lip smile at one corner of the mouth — amused, unhurried, entirely unthreatened. Palette limited to dark red, black, silver-white and one violet accent at the eyes, all sitting on cold gray stone. The blade's lower half is the darkest thing in the picture and the damp floor beneath it holds a soft, dim smear of reflection that is darker and softer than the steel it answers. Quiet menace.
Максим Комаровский

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