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Максим Комаровский

мк

Максим Комаровский

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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.
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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 с широкими рукавами, черную шелковую рубашку, 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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Tsubaki.3 - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3
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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, male, drow, dark elf, elf, pointed ears, long pointed ears, dark gray skin, grey skin, appears 20 years old, athletic build, muscular, long hair, loose hair, flowing hair, silver hair, straight hair, amethyst eyes, purple eyes, purple irises, standing, holding sword, black jian, chinese sword, straight sword, right hand, dark red coat, wide sleeves, long sleeves, black tank top, sleeveless shirt, black pants, black fingerless gloves, fingerless gloves, wristband, belt, dark aura, aura, shadow lord, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking down, serious, closed mouth, cave, dark background, rock walls, dim lighting, purple light, full body The shot is taken from below and tilted a few degrees off level, a cowboy shot cropped at mid-thigh, looking up the length of a tall dark-gray-skinned drow man who stands with his weight settled on his left leg, right hip slightly dropped, torso turned a quarter away from the lens while his head comes back toward it. Long loose silver hair, fine and straight, falls from his scalp over both shoulders and down his back, a few strands drifting across his collarbone and one lock lying along the top of his extended right arm; its ends catch a violet rim where the cave light reaches them. His pointed ears stand out clear of the hair on both sides, long and tapered, tips angled back and slightly up. The tilted-up camera makes his amethyst eyes read half-lidded as he looks down past the lens, irises luminous violet against the dark gray of his face, brows level, mouth shut and firm, jaw set, one nostril flaring faintly with a slow breath. His right arm hangs out from the body with the elbow barely bent, and the black jian rests in that right hand: a long straight single-edged blade of matte black, guard simple and square, hilt wrapped dark, the sword tipped forward and down at an angle so its point hovers near the bottom edge of the frame, its edge drawing one thin cold violet line where the cave light grazes the steel. The black fingerless glove on that hand leaves the fingers bare and the knuckles bare above the knuckle line, and the wristband sits snug around the wrist just below the sleeve's wide cuff. His left hand is tucked unseen inside the deep fold of the coat, or rests at his side beneath it -- either way the wide dark red sleeve hangs heavy and empty past the hip, the fabric creased where the arm bends under it. The dark red coat is long and open, its wide sleeves flaring with the drape of stiff wool, the collar turned up at the back of his neck; beneath it the black tank top hugs the athletic chest and the flat hard plane of his stomach, and the black pants fall straight to the thigh where the crop cuts them off. A plain dark belt crosses his hips, buckle centered. All of it is underlit -- the cave's single source of violet glow from somewhere behind and to his left rakes the underside of his chin, the rim of his ears, the outer edge of the sword and the crests of his shoulders, while his face stays mostly in cool shadow and the front of the coat sinks toward black. Behind and around him the cave closes in: rough wet rock, low ceiling, a scatter of stone teeth in the midground and the black throat of a deeper passage behind his left shoulder, no daylight anywhere. A dark aura rises off his skin and out of the coat, a slow shadow-smoke that thickens the air around his shoulders and the sword, dimming the rock behind him and bending the violet light into faint trailing wisps that curl upward from his hair and drift from the blade's flat, more of it gathering where the sword tip nears the ground. Palette is dark red, black, silver and amethyst only, with the cold wet gray of the cave as the sole neutral. Ominous and still.
Максим Комаровский
AI artwork
мк
1boy, solo, male drow elf, appears 20 years old, dark gray skin, athletic build, long loose silver hair, hair worn down, amethyst eyes, pointed ears, shadow lord, dark red coat, black tank top, black pants, black fingerless gloves, wristband, belt, leaning on longsword, longsword with narrow guard, dark aura, cave background, standing, from below, cowboy shot, three-quarter view, looking down at viewer, faint lopsided smirk, half-closed eyes, one hand on sword hilt, head tilt, dramatic lighting, dark fantasy The camera sits low and slightly off his right side, tilted up in a three-quarter view so the boyish, unlined face above the sharp jaw reads as twenty while the dark gray skin catches the cave's cold light along one cheekbone and leaves the other side in shadow; his pointed ears stand clear of the loose silver hair, which falls past his shoulders in an unstyled sheet, a few strands drifting across his collarbone where the dark red coat hangs open over the black tank top. He is caught at the top of a slow exhalation rather than a posed stance: weight sunk into his left hip against the sword, right leg angled out and relaxed, shoulders dropped back, chin lowered and turned a few degrees toward the lens so his amethyst eyes look down the blade at the viewer from under half-closed lids, one corner of his mouth lifted, brow flat and unimpressed. His right hand closes over the pommel of the longsword, black fingerless glove showing bare knuckles and the leather wristband riding just above the heel of his palm; the sword is planted point-down in the cave floor, the narrow guard and the long dark blade running a hard vertical through the foreground, and his left hand hangs loose at his side beside the belt, thumb hooked into it. The coat's hem and one lapel are pushed back by the weight shift, and behind his shoulders the darkness thickens into a slow-turning aura that swallows the rock wall—no edge, no glow source of its own, simply the cave's dim light failing to reach him, though faint cold highlights draw its curling boundary and drag a longer, softer second shadow across the uneven floor. A little grit and a thin scattering of pebbles sit displaced around the sword's entry point; the only light is a diffuse, cold blue-gray spill from somewhere deep in the cavern behind and above him, so his face is lit from above and his throat and chest fall into shadow, and the wet stone of the cave mouth glints far behind him out of focus. Palette held to dark gray, silver, amethyst, black and the single deep red of the coat, with everything else folded into cave browns and cold blue shadow. Quiet menace, effortlessly still.
Максим Комаровский

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