r/dndai

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Waukeen, The Merchants' Friend, goddess of trade, wealth and money. Always able to get the best deal for herself while still allowing the other party to feel they got a good deal, too.

The first image is from Z Image Turbo; the second was from GPT-2. I actually like the ZiT image better for this one, which doesn't happen often.

Seed: 593988700252559

High-fantasy digital painting with dramatic lighting and richly rendered detail, a full-body, eye-level vertical shot captures Waukeen centered in the frame, walking forward directly toward the viewer with her body and face oriented frontward. Bright, warm light emanates from a setting sun in the background on the right, illuminating the scene and casting a golden glow over everything.

Waukeen is beautiful asian woman with long, straight black hair flowing over her shoulders. Her eyes are golden. She wears an ornate, gold and white ballgown featuring a high leg slit, detailed golden filigree embroidery, and gemstones set into her crown, necklace, and belt bodice. Her right hand rests near her hip, holding her translucent, flowing dress fabric, while her left hand is raised slightly, cupping a small glowing orb. She wears gold cuffs on both wrists and strapped sandals made of laced pearls reaching up her right leg, maintaining a direct gaze forward.

The scene is set on an ornate, reflective tiled floor covered with scattered gold coins, gold and silver bars, precious gemstones and pink flower petals. In the lower left, a chest overflows with gold and glowing purple crystals, while a burning lantern sits near pink lotuses in the lower right. The background features grand, classical golden columns and arches on the left, opening up to a vast desert landscape on the right with distant Middle Eastern-style domes, towers, and palm trees under a vibrant orange and purple sunset sky filled with small silhouettes of birds.

The image is rendered in a highly detailed, digital fantasy art style characterized by sharp textures, vibrant colors, and metallic surfaces. The color palette is dominated by intense golds, oranges, and yellows, contrasted by the deep blues and purples of the gemstones, crystals, and sky. Light reflects strongly off the polished floor, the metallic elements of the gown, and the floating magical glyphs, creating a high-contrast, luminous texture across all elements. Epic composition, intricate highlights, atmospheric depth

"Cynthia, I am trying to get Outlook working right now, can we chat later?"

After entering Grindbone, the slave trade capital of the Forbidden Lands, the dastardly Nameless decide they'll take over the city. Just outside the gates, their adoptive youngster, Emery, is caught in the fray and gets captured by the Slaver's guild - until a mysterious swordsman arrives to set things right.

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This was a short video I made commemorating a Forbidden Lands campaign I play in, showing highlights from the session the party burned down Grindbone and took it over.

In my homebrew world, the elves of Valora are not a single unified culture but a family of old and divergent peoples shaped by geography and very different relationships to power. There are primarily 2 groups: the Sylvan elves and the Steppe elves.

The Sylvan elves are inspired by Mesoamerican aesthetics, jungle city-states, sacred astronomy, and monumental architecture. I’ve been making a spread of character portraits for them as a way to move away from the standard fantasy “forest elf” template. I wanted them to still feel recognizably elven in some ways, but with a culture, visual identity, and historical weight that belong specifically to this world.

Love, when cornered by absolute despair, often twists into the deadliest of curses. When madness consumed the Golden Automaton—the once-noble Prince Ghristan, now a golem of fury imprisoned in the abyss of Kaelen-Goth—Mirha refused to let her consort wander alone through eternity. She sought neither the fleeting light nor the silent peace of death; she prostrated herself before King Khallade and demanded that the same arcane, profane arts that had doomed her beloved be turned upon her. To share Ghristan's damnation, the devoted wife surrendered her flesh, her mind, and her very soul to the furnace of black sorcery, accepting to be torn apart and remade solely to exist on the same plane as the cold, metallic carcass that housed the ghost of her husband.

What emerged from that excruciating ritual was no longer a woman, but an atrocity of pale, predatory beauty, a succubus bathed in the blood of her own excised humanity. Her wings tore through her skin like jagged, crimson blades, and her muscles grew taut with the profane strength of the demons that now shared her essence. With her sword dripping the ichor of her victims and the skull of the unwary hanging from her grasp, Mirha became the embodiment of a relentless, carnal war. She was no longer a grieving consort, but an abyssal predator whose darkened eyes radiated a thirst for destruction as voracious as that of the gleaming monster she had sworn to protect.

Within the putrefying bowels of Kaelen-Goth, amidst the abominations that crawled in the shadows, the monstrous couple reigned in their lethal tragedy. Mirha patrolled the ruined halls and gray courtyards of the fortress like a vengeful angel of death, reaping the lives of foolish adventurers and mercenaries with a barbaric ferocity that mocked any notion of mercy. When the blind fury of the Golden Automaton shattered the walls in its voiceless despair, it was she who danced at his side, a storm of torn wings and stained steel, slaughtering anything that dared draw near. Together, they were a macabre ballet of cold metal and demonic flesh, orchestrating a symphony of pain in the deepest reaches of hell.

Yet, the true cruelty of the spell lay not in the woman's monstrous new form, but in the morbid silence of her mind. Centuries of carnage and the crushing weight of chaos had corroded Mirha's memories, erasing the smiles, the warmth of a bygone touch, and the very reason for her monumental sacrifice. She no longer remembered Ghristan's face before the golden mask, nor the affection that had driven her to embrace absolute darkness. All that remained inside her hollow chest was an eternal, brutal, and inexorable desire that chained her to that silent, gleaming figure. It was a fierce instinct of protection and possession, the dark and twisted shadow of a pure feeling, consecrating them forever as the forgotten protagonists of the most perverse of loves.

Related posts

https://www.reddit.com/r/Pro_Ai_Art/comments/1uk7e6r/the_golden_automaton/

https://www.reddit.com/r/Pro_Ai_Art/comments/1ubseqh/the_abyss_of_kaelengoth/