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PhantomMoth

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PhantomMoth

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1boy, solo, adult male, dwarf, stocky broad build, warrior, scaled iron armour, scale mail, long red beard, braided beard, beard with two thick braids, helmet, horned helmet, smiling, open-mouthed grin, tankard of beer, wooden tankard, holding tankard, sitting, wooden bench, sunset, orange sky, low sun, outdoor, wide shot, from side, cowboy shot, boots on ground, leaning back, elbow on knee, fantasy, warm palette A wide cowboy shot from the side, camera low and slightly below his eyeline so the orange sunset sky fills the upper half of the frame behind him. A short, broad, barrel-chested dwarven warrior sits on a heavy timber bench at a slight three-quarter turn to the camera, weight settled on his right hip, boots planted flat on the packed earth with the left foot drawn a little forward, torso leaned back and his left elbow resting on his left knee. His gloved right hand grips the wooden tankard by its handle, knuckles forward, the tankard resting upright on his right thigh, its rim just below the top of the frame's lower third. The scaled iron armour covers him from shoulders to knees: overlapping lames of dark iron laid in rows like fish scales, each scale catching a thin hot rim of sunset light along its upper edge, the lower edges sitting in shadow; a baldric crosses his chest. His helmet is iron, dented, with two curved horns sweeping out and slightly back, and beneath its rim his long red beard falls to his belt in a pair of thick braids bound with iron rings, the loose strands over his cheeks glowing copper in the low light. He is laughing: eyes crinkled nearly shut, broad grin showing teeth through the beard, cheeks lifted, head tipped a touch back and to his right toward the sun, gaze directed off-frame toward the sunset rather than the viewer. The sun sits low and just off the right edge of the frame: it strikes the right side of his face, the horns' near side and the tankard's flank with hot amber, throws his long shadow leftward across the earth, and leaves the left side of his body and the underside of the bench in deep cool shadow; the sky runs from molten gold at the horizon to dusky violet overhead, with the far ridgeline of hills reduced to dark silhouettes and no other figures anywhere. A thin foam head clings to the inside of the tankard's rim where it has tipped slightly. Palette: scorched orange, iron grey, copper red and dusky violet, nothing else. Warm, raucous, golden-hour fantasy.
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オリジナルプロンプト
[Fantasy] Dwarven man, warrior, in scaled iron armour. Long red braided beard, helmet with horns. Smiling. Sitting on a bench with a tankard of beer. Sunset.
モード
ultra
品質タグ
﹝プロンプト﹞
縦横比
1104 x 1824
サンプリング方法
Euler
ネガティブ
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
プロンプト自動変換

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1man, solo, adult dwarven man, short broad stocky build, sitting on a wooden bench, sitting, smiling, open-mouthed grin, visible teeth, eyes crinkled with laughter, long red braided beard, two thick braid plaits with iron beads, braided moustache, scaled iron armour, overlapping iron scale plates, riveted pauldrons, horned helmet, two curved horns on helmet, tankard of beer, holding tankard, tankard resting on knee, foam head on beer, sunset, orange sky, low sun, from below, cowboy shot, slight foreshortening, looking at tankard, warm rim light. The camera sits low, below the dwarf's eye level and slightly to his left, tilted up so the squat mass of him fills the frame from boots to horns while the sunset sky opens wide behind his shoulders. He is in three-quarter view, torso angled toward the frame's right, one boot planted flat on the packed dirt, the other knee cocked high with the tankard balanced on it; his left hand wraps the tankard's handle, knuckles tight, thumb hooked over the iron rim, and a thumbnail presses into the leather of the grip. His right arm drapes back along the bench's top rail, elbow hooked over the wood, shoulder dropped low and easy, the horned helmet tipped a fraction back. Both horns rake upward against the sky, catching the sun along their outer curve and darkening on the inner edge. The scaled iron armour is a mesh of small overlapping plates across chest and shoulders, each scale edge holding a wet-looking orange highlight while the recesses beneath run almost black, every plate moving a little with his breath. Under his brow, his eyes are narrowed to warm crescents in the folds of his grin, and the gaze comes down and to the frame's right, landing on the tankard where it rests on his knee, foam sitting in a pale dome above the rim. His beard is one long fall of red that has been combed and split into two thick braids, each bound with a small iron bead and falling past the bench seat, and the braid nearest his knee lifts faintly with the breeze while the far one hangs dead still; the moustache above it is braided too, tucked behind the grin so a corner of his mouth shows through. The bench is old dark timber on two stout posts, a little snow of dust and a chipped edge under his weight, and the wood sags a visible hair where he sits. Behind him, a low ridgeline of hills and a scatter of stubby conifers stand black against a sky banded in orange, amber and a first stripe of violet, the sun a flattened disc just above the notch of the ridge, low on the frame's left. That single low sun is the only light: it comes from behind and left, so it rims the horns, the helmet rim, the shoulder line and the near edge of every scale with gold while his face and chest fall into a softer warm bounce from the ground; long shadows of bench and boots stretch toward the bottom-right corner, and the far side of his body goes dim brown. The beer's foam is the brightest note in the frame after the sun itself. Palette is held to iron grey, rust red, amber and the sunset's orange-to-violet gradient, nothing cooler admitted. Everything reads warm, worn and contented.
PhantomMoth
AI artwork
Avatar image of PhantomMoth
1boy, solo, dwarven man, warrior, short stocky build, broad shoulders, adult man, long red beard, single long braid down the beard, braided beard, thick red mustache, horned helmet, iron helmet, two curved horns, scaled iron armour, scale mail, metal scales, shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets, standing, holding axe, two-handed grip on axe haft, large battle axe, axe head resting near his boots, smiling, open smile, teeth showing, crinkled eyes, looking at viewer, sunset, orange sky, low sun, backlight, rim light, full body, from below, wide shot, head tilt, leaning on axe The camera sits low, near the ground, looking up at him: from below he fills the frame, boots planted wide apart in a sun-hardened dirt clearing, his weight sunk onto his right leg while the left foot is set forward and slightly turned out. Both gauntleted hands close around the long haft of the axe in front of his chest, the right hand high under the head, the left hand lower down the shaft, the butt of the haft driven into the dirt beside his right boot, so the axe stands as a thing he leans his weight against rather than swings. The great crescent axe head is turned edge-on to the low sun, and its polished bevel catches a hot copper sliver of that light. He is turned three-quarters toward the camera with his chest opened to the viewer and his helmeted head tipped a little to his left, chin up. He is smiling -- an open, unforced grin that pulls his cheeks up and shows the top row of teeth, the skin at the outer corners of his eyes creasing into deep folds above the swollen cheekbones and the broken-veined nose. His eyes are bright and fixed straight on the viewer, half-squinted against the glare. The braid of his beard, thick as a rope and bound in three tight plaits, hangs down the centre of his chest over the scales, its red gone almost blood-dark where the armour shadows it and blazing where the sun finds its outer curve; the fine stray hairs escape sideways in the low wind and glow as a halo of copper threads. His mustache flows out over the braid's knot. The helmet is riveted iron, dented at the brow, and its two horns curve up and out, their tips rimmed with fire. Behind him the sun sits just above a ridge of black rock, low and enormous, and the whole clearing is graded from furnace orange at the horizon to dusty umber underfoot. The light comes from behind and to his right, so it blows out the horns, the shoulders of the pauldrons and the edge of the axe into bright lines while his front falls into warm, shallow shadow, lit only by what the dust throws back up at him; his shadow stretches forward toward the camera, long and narrow, and the scales of his armour each hold one pinpoint of sun. The sky above the ridge runs orange into a violet that deepens toward the top of the frame. Palette held to furnace orange, iron grey-black, and the red of the beard. Warm, triumphant.
PhantomMoth

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