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Mateus Pertussatti

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Mateus Pertussatti

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no humans, scenery, landscape, wide shot, from below, low horizon line, vast field of weapons, hundreds of swords spears daggers axes halberds planted in ground, european blade types dominant, scorched earth, iron slag, cracked burnt soil, dusk sky, blood-red and grey sky, black smoke clouds, gigantic forge wheels in sky, rings of incandescent light, slow rotation, golden sparks, embers drifting, hot wind, ozone haze, tempered steel glint, monochrome-adjacent palette, no text The camera sits low on the slope, tilted slightly up, so the crest of the hill cuts a jagged black line across the lower third and the sky owns the rest of the frame. No figure stands anywhere in the picture: the hill is the subject, and the nearest blade is only a metre from the lens. In the immediate foreground a broad European arming sword is driven to the hilt in a slab of cracked, slag-fused ground, its crossguard at eye level with the camera, the flat of its blade catching one long run of gold light along the upper edge while its lower edge stays near-black; behind it the slope climbs away in rows. Spears and halberds stand taller than the swords and lean at shallow angles into the hot wind, their shafts dark against the sky, their axe-blades and spear-points bitten with orange rust at the sockets; daggers sit lower, only their pommels and quillons above the soil, half-swallowed by ash. Between them lie the rest — falchions, estocs, messers, a war scythe, a ridged rondel dagger, a few curved blades from the eastern edge of the continent — all European in cut, packed denser and denser as the hill recedes, until at the middle distance they become a single shivering thicket of vertical dark strokes and, at the horizon, nothing but a thin bristling texture. Fissures in the burnt earth glow dull ember-orange from within, throwing a weak underlight onto the nearest hilts and leaving the ground between them almost brown-black. Black smoke clouds bank along the horizon in heavy horizontal slabs, and through them, colossal, turn the forge wheels: iron rims hundreds of metres across with spokes like crane arms, and beside each a slower ring of incandescent light, half-eaten by smoke, casting a rim of warm gold on the tops of the smoke slabs and letting the undersides fall to charcoal grey. Golden sparks stream sideways across the whole depth of the frame on the wind, small and bright near the lens, dissolving into grey specks far out. The palette is confined to burnt umber, soot brown, iron grey and the two hot creams of the forge light, with the red of the dusk sky gone dark and near-brown above the smoke. A single spear shaft in the foreground bends a few degrees downwind, the only thing in the picture that shows the wind's direction. Atmosphere of heat and metal, ominous and magnificent.
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Uma colina de terra calcinada e escória de ferro sob um céu crepuscular tingido de vermelho-sangue e cinza. No horizonte infinito, gigantescas rodas de forja e anéis de luz incandescente giram lentamente entre nuvens de fumaça negra e faíscas douradas, soprando um vento quente que cheira a ozônio e aço recém-temperado. ​E cravadas até onde a vista alcança pelo chão acidentado da colina, estão fibcadas no chão, espadas, lanças, adagas, machados, alabardas, e diversas outras armas brancas de diversas etmollogias, mas predominantemente europeias
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pro
Styl
Lucid Dreamy
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﹝Podpowiedzi﹞
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768 x 1280
Niepożądane
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
Styl: Lucid Dreamy
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AI artwork
mp
no humans, scenery, landscape, wide shot, from below, low horizon line, vast field of weapons, hundreds of swords spears daggers axes halberds planted in ground, european blade types dominant, scorched earth, iron slag, cracked burnt soil, dusk sky, blood-red and grey sky, black smoke clouds, gigantic forge wheels in sky, rings of incandescent light, slow rotation, golden sparks, embers drifting, hot wind, ozone haze, tempered steel glint, monochrome-adjacent palette, no text The camera sits low on the slope, tilted slightly up, so the crest of the hill cuts a jagged black line across the lower third and the sky owns the rest of the frame. No figure stands anywhere in the picture: the hill is the subject, and the nearest blade is only a metre from the lens. In the immediate foreground a broad European arming sword is driven to the hilt in a slab of cracked, slag-fused ground, its crossguard at eye level with the camera, the flat of its blade catching one long run of gold light along the upper edge while its lower edge stays near-black; behind it the slope climbs away in rows. Spears and halberds stand taller than the swords and lean at shallow angles into the hot wind, their shafts dark against the sky, their axe-blades and spear-points bitten with orange rust at the sockets; daggers sit lower, only their pommels and quillons above the soil, half-swallowed by ash. Between them lie the rest — falchions, estocs, messers, a war scythe, a ridged rondel dagger, a few curved blades from the eastern edge of the continent — all European in cut, packed denser and denser as the hill recedes, until at the middle distance they become a single shivering thicket of vertical dark strokes and, at the horizon, nothing but a thin bristling texture. Fissures in the burnt earth glow dull ember-orange from within, throwing a weak underlight onto the nearest hilts and leaving the ground between them almost brown-black. Black smoke clouds bank along the horizon in heavy horizontal slabs, and through them, colossal, turn the forge wheels: iron rims hundreds of metres across with spokes like crane arms, and beside each a slower ring of incandescent light, half-eaten by smoke, casting a rim of warm gold on the tops of the smoke slabs and letting the undersides fall to charcoal grey. Golden sparks stream sideways across the whole depth of the frame on the wind, small and bright near the lens, dissolving into grey specks far out. The palette is confined to burnt umber, soot brown, iron grey and the two hot creams of the forge light, with the red of the dusk sky gone dark and near-brown above the smoke. A single spear shaft in the foreground bends a few degrees downwind, the only thing in the picture that shows the wind's direction. Atmosphere of heat and metal, ominous and magnificent.
Mateus Pertussatti
AI artwork
mp
no humans, scenery, landscape, wide shot, from below, low horizon line, vast field of weapons, hundreds of swords spears daggers axes halberds planted in ground, european blade types dominant, scorched earth, iron slag, cracked burnt soil, dusk sky, blood-red and grey sky, black smoke clouds, gigantic forge wheels in sky, rings of incandescent light, slow rotation, golden sparks, embers drifting, hot wind, ozone haze, tempered steel glint, monochrome-adjacent palette, no text The camera sits low on the slope, tilted slightly up, so the crest of the hill cuts a jagged black line across the lower third and the sky owns the rest of the frame. No figure stands anywhere in the picture: the hill is the subject, and the nearest blade is only a metre from the lens. In the immediate foreground a broad European arming sword is driven to the hilt in a slab of cracked, slag-fused ground, its crossguard at eye level with the camera, the flat of its blade catching one long run of gold light along the upper edge while its lower edge stays near-black; behind it the slope climbs away in rows. Spears and halberds stand taller than the swords and lean at shallow angles into the hot wind, their shafts dark against the sky, their axe-blades and spear-points bitten with orange rust at the sockets; daggers sit lower, only their pommels and quillons above the soil, half-swallowed by ash. Between them lie the rest — falchions, estocs, messers, a war scythe, a ridged rondel dagger, a few curved blades from the eastern edge of the continent — all European in cut, packed denser and denser as the hill recedes, until at the middle distance they become a single shivering thicket of vertical dark strokes and, at the horizon, nothing but a thin bristling texture. Fissures in the burnt earth glow dull ember-orange from within, throwing a weak underlight onto the nearest hilts and leaving the ground between them almost brown-black. Black smoke clouds bank along the horizon in heavy horizontal slabs, and through them, colossal, turn the forge wheels: iron rims hundreds of metres across with spokes like crane arms, and beside each a slower ring of incandescent light, half-eaten by smoke, casting a rim of warm gold on the tops of the smoke slabs and letting the undersides fall to charcoal grey. Golden sparks stream sideways across the whole depth of the frame on the wind, small and bright near the lens, dissolving into grey specks far out. The palette is confined to burnt umber, soot brown, iron grey and the two hot creams of the forge light, with the red of the dusk sky gone dark and near-brown above the smoke. A single spear shaft in the foreground bends a few degrees downwind, the only thing in the picture that shows the wind's direction. Atmosphere of heat and metal, ominous and magnificent.
Mateus Pertussatti
AI artwork
mp
no humans, scenery, landscape, wide shot, from below, low horizon line, vast field of weapons, hundreds of swords spears daggers axes halberds planted in ground, european blade types dominant, scorched earth, iron slag, cracked burnt soil, dusk sky, blood-red and grey sky, black smoke clouds, gigantic forge wheels in sky, rings of incandescent light, slow rotation, golden sparks, embers drifting, hot wind, ozone haze, tempered steel glint, monochrome-adjacent palette, no text The camera sits low on the slope, tilted slightly up, so the crest of the hill cuts a jagged black line across the lower third and the sky owns the rest of the frame. No figure stands anywhere in the picture: the hill is the subject, and the nearest blade is only a metre from the lens. In the immediate foreground a broad European arming sword is driven to the hilt in a slab of cracked, slag-fused ground, its crossguard at eye level with the camera, the flat of its blade catching one long run of gold light along the upper edge while its lower edge stays near-black; behind it the slope climbs away in rows. Spears and halberds stand taller than the swords and lean at shallow angles into the hot wind, their shafts dark against the sky, their axe-blades and spear-points bitten with orange rust at the sockets; daggers sit lower, only their pommels and quillons above the soil, half-swallowed by ash. Between them lie the rest — falchions, estocs, messers, a war scythe, a ridged rondel dagger, a few curved blades from the eastern edge of the continent — all European in cut, packed denser and denser as the hill recedes, until at the middle distance they become a single shivering thicket of vertical dark strokes and, at the horizon, nothing but a thin bristling texture. Fissures in the burnt earth glow dull ember-orange from within, throwing a weak underlight onto the nearest hilts and leaving the ground between them almost brown-black. Black smoke clouds bank along the horizon in heavy horizontal slabs, and through them, colossal, turn the forge wheels: iron rims hundreds of metres across with spokes like crane arms, and beside each a slower ring of incandescent light, half-eaten by smoke, casting a rim of warm gold on the tops of the smoke slabs and letting the undersides fall to charcoal grey. Golden sparks stream sideways across the whole depth of the frame on the wind, small and bright near the lens, dissolving into grey specks far out. The palette is confined to burnt umber, soot brown, iron grey and the two hot creams of the forge light, with the red of the dusk sky gone dark and near-brown above the smoke. A single spear shaft in the foreground bends a few degrees downwind, the only thing in the picture that shows the wind's direction. Atmosphere of heat and metal, ominous and magnificent.
Mateus Pertussatti
AI artwork
mp
wide shot, no humans, landscape, scorched earth, hill, iron slag, cracked ground, twilight sky, blood-red sky, grey clouds, giant gears, glowing rings, incandescent light, black smoke, golden sparks, embers, warm wind, countless weapons, swords stuck in ground, spears stuck in ground, daggers stuck in ground, axes stuck in ground, halberds stuck in ground, european weapons, blades upright, battlefield grave, from below, low horizon, dramatic perspective, depth of field, screentone, soft focus, sparkle effects, dreamy atmosphere A wide low-angle shot from just above the broken ground, the camera set low on the slope so the hill's crest cuts across the upper third and the horizon line sits high and thin beneath a blood-red and grey twilight sky. The foreground is scorched earth the colour of dark ash, its surface blistered and cracked, crusted with iron slag in dull charcoal and rust-brown shards that glint where the last light catches their edges; the ground rises away from the viewer toward the crest, rutted and uneven. Into this slope, from the immediate foreground to the far crest and beyond it as far as the eye can see, countless bladed weapons are planted upright: broad European arming swords and longswords driven to the hilt, their crossguards level with the soil; slender spears and pikes leaning at slight, wind-pushed angles; short daggers standing in clusters like iron reeds; single- and double-bit axes, their hafts sunk deep; tall halberds with crescent blades and spiked tops, and among them a scattering of other blades of varied origins -- curved sabres, a broad falchion, a long thin estoc. Each is planted at its own slight tilt, hafts and grips dark with soot, blades dulled, none clean. In the foreground a single longsword stands nearest the camera, its blade half-buried and its pommel catching a fleck of gold light; the low angle makes its crossguard loom against the hill. Across the whole slope the weapons cast long parallel shadows that rake down toward the viewer, thrown by the horizon's glow, and a few blades tremble on their hafts in the warm wind -- the wind also combing loose ash and a shredded banner-scrap of smoke low across the ground, so that the leaning of every spear tips the same way. On the horizon, colossal gears and concentric rings of incandescent light turn slowly, half-swallowed by black smoke clouds that pour across them; the rings' molten glow rims the gears' teeth and spills a warm amber light along the ridge, softening the distant weapon-tips into silhouette while leaving the foreground blades edged in dull red and shadow. Sparks drift up from the glow, golden, carried on the hot wind that visibly bends the smoke and lifts ash from the crest. Palette: deep umber, charcoal and rust in the earth and slag, blood-red and smoke-grey in the sky, and warm gold-amber only where the rings' light falls. Delicate lineart and screentone texture across the ground and the pale gold glow, soft focus toward the horizon, sparkling motes of light. Dreamy, ominous.
Mateus Pertussatti

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