In the heart of the Forbidden Woods, where ancient oaks stand sentinel over gnar

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In the heart of the Forbidden Woods, where ancient oaks stand sentinel over gnarled roots and mist curls like ghostly fingers through the canopy, dwells a diminutive figure—a small, old witch known only as Elara. Bent with age and cloaked in shadows that seem to cling to her like a second skin, Elara's piercing eyes gleam with a wisdom earned through centuries of solitude and sorcery. Within the confines of her secluded cottage, crafted from moss-covered logs and nestled amidst a thicket of brambles and wildflowers, Elara tends to her arcane pursuits. Tonight, beneath the silvery light of a waning moon that casts ethereal patterns upon the forest floor, she stands over a bubbling cauldron in her dimly lit workshop. Clad in a tattered black dress adorned with symbols of forgotten lore, Elara's gnarled hands deftly gather ingredients from shelves lined with jars of shimmering powders and vials of iridescent liquids. The air is thick with the heady scent of crushed herbs and rare botanicals that only thrive in the deepest shadows of the forest. With practiced precision, Elara adds a handful of moonlit dewdrops collected from silver ferns that bloom only once every century, followed by a pinch of powdered starlight harvested from the night sky itself. As the cauldron emits a faint glow that pulses in time with her murmured incantations, the potion begins to take shape—a brew that promises to unlock mysteries of the past or reveal glimpses of the future, depending on the drinker's fate. Outside the cottage, the forest stirs with whispers of ancient spirits and restless guardians that protect Elara's domain. Shadows dance upon the walls as she stirs the potion clockwise, weaving spells into its bubbling depths that shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence. In a realm where alliances shift like the wind and magic courses through every leaf and root, Elara's task becomes a testament to perseverance, wisdom, and the enduring power of solitude amidst the ever-changing t

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In the heart of the Forbidden Woods , where ancient oaks stand sentinel over gnarled roots and mist curls like ghostly fingers through the canopy , dwells a diminutive figure—a small , old witch known only as Elara . Bent with age and cloaked in shadows that seem to cling to her like a second skin , Elara's piercing eyes gleam with a wisdom earned through centuries of solitude and sorcery . Within the confines of her secluded cottage , crafted from moss-covered logs and nestled amidst a thicket of brambles and wildflowers , Elara tends to her arcane pursuits . Tonight , beneath the silvery light of a waning moon that casts ethereal patterns upon the forest floor , she stands over a bubbling cauldron in her dimly lit workshop . Clad in a tattered black dress adorned with symbols of forgotten lore , Elara's gnarled hands deftly gather ingredients from shelves lined with jars of shimmering powders and vials of iridescent liquids . The air is thick with the heady scent of crushed herbs and rare botanicals that only thrive in the deepest shadows of the forest . With practiced precision , Elara adds a handful of moonlit dewdrops collected from silver ferns that bloom only once every century , followed by a pinch of powdered starlight harvested from the night sky itself . As the cauldron emits a faint glow that pulses in time with her murmured incantations , the potion begins to take shape—a brew that promises to unlock mysteries of the past or reveal glimpses of the future , depending on the drinker's fate . Outside the cottage , the forest stirs with whispers of ancient spirits and restless guardians that protect Elara's domain . Shadows dance upon the walls as she stirs the potion clockwise , weaving spells into its bubbling depths that shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence . In a realm where alliances shift like the wind and magic courses through every leaf and root , Elara's task becomes a testament to perseverance , wisdom , and the enduring power of solitude amidst the ever-changing t

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In the heart of the Forbidden Woods, where ancient oaks stand sentinel over gnarled roots and mist curls like ghostly fingers through the canopy, dwells a diminutive figure—a small, old witch known only as Elara. Bent with age and cloaked in shadows that seem to cling to her like a second skin, Elara's piercing eyes gleam with a wisdom earned through centuries of solitude and sorcery. Within the confines of her secluded cottage, crafted from moss-covered logs and nestled amidst a thicket of brambles and wildflowers, Elara tends to her arcane pursuits. Tonight, beneath the silvery light of a waning moon that casts ethereal patterns upon the forest floor, she stands over a bubbling cauldron in her dimly lit workshop. Clad in a tattered black dress adorned with symbols of forgotten lore, Elara's gnarled hands deftly gather ingredients from shelves lined with jars of shimmering powders and vials of iridescent liquids. The air is thick with the heady scent of crushed herbs and rare botanicals that only thrive in the deepest shadows of the forest. With practiced precision, Elara adds a handful of moonlit dewdrops collected from silver ferns that bloom only once every century, followed by a pinch of powdered starlight harvested from the night sky itself. As the cauldron emits a faint glow that pulses in time with her murmured incantations, the potion begins to take shape—a brew that promises to unlock mysteries of the past or reveal glimpses of the future, depending on the drinker's fate. Outside the cottage, the forest stirs with whispers of ancient spirits and restless guardians that protect Elara's domain. Shadows dance upon the walls as she stirs the potion clockwise, weaving spells into its bubbling depths that shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence. In a realm where alliances shift like the wind and magic courses through every leaf and root, Elara's task becomes a testament to perseverance, wisdom, and the enduring power of solitude amidst the ever-changing t

Etiqueta negativa

(worst quality, low quality:1.4), bad hands, bad fingers, deformed hands, deformed fingers, fewer digits

Escala CFG

10

Pasos

40

Recolector

DPM++ 2M Karras

Semilla

3566800576

Clip Skip

1

Tamaño de imagen

1024 X 576

Modelo

Arcanius - The fantasy path

Generar

Tamaño

1024X576

Fecha

Jun 23, 2024

Modo

Por defecto

Tipo

upscale

Checkpoint & LoRA

Checkpoint

Arcanius - The fantasy path

#Personajes épicos

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