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Other /Imagine - Atom's AI-Generated Images


Junior Member
Roleplay Type(s)
Hi all, Atom again! I’ve very recently made a foray into the world of AI-generated images and am having an absolute blast fine tuning prompts and discovering the width and breadth of Discord’s Midjourney. I’d love to share some of the more beautiful evocative pieces here, as well as character concept art of my OCs and my writing partners’ characters. I would also love to offer “commissions” to writers who would like to see their characters or settings generated via Midjourney. That said, in bold, italics, and underlined, I recognize that these images are merely a conglomeration of art scraped together from databases and processed through an algorithm. It is by no means a replacement of the beautiful, intensive talent I see on RPNation’s Arts thread, and I highly encourage writers to commission actual artists to render their characters; there are obvious limits to what AI generators can do, while the artistic and creative potential of RPN’s artists is boundless. However, I hope visitors to this thread can at least gain some inspiration for their own writing adventures!


~ Fen Serica 🪶~

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Her people speak of a place called Beyond-the-Treeline-of-the-Wake-of-the-Wolves.
It is not a singular place—it is everywhere, glimmering behind an invisible veil. Sometimes, this veil shimmers, refracting in the light glistening off the ice crystals of a snowbank when a sun beam pierces the cloud-laden sky. Sometimes, it whispers, lilted words of an ancient language interwoven between gusts of frigid winds rustling the evergreen fronds of mountain pines. Sometimes, it even parts, allowing a glimpse into a world where the snow is brighter, the mountains higher and sharper, the water clearer and brisker, where elk wear magnificent brow-cairns of silver and the howls of wolves pulse with rune-magic as they sing moodward—where magic can be seen in the world like gusts of glittering snow, spun into gossamer thread, and woven into goliath tapestries of wyrd.

For many nights the moon hid behind a thick mist. The Skywatcher was stricken with unease, yet not perplexed: for what reason should the Moon hide if not from Managarmr, a monstrous wolf who sought to swallow the deity in his terrible jaws? Every twenty-seven years, the cunning Moon-Eater Hound slips between the barrier between the Feywilds and the material plane, and from Skade's Wolf-of-the-Land clan, a champion is chosen to send the beast back to the wilds in a forced hibernation from its infernal hunt.

To her people, familial bonds are paramount (even those created between individuals who were not born of the same race or blood). An only child to Thiazi Thunder-Hand and Aga Secret-Fire, Skade was her parents’ treasure. Her father spent many hours with her in the wilderness, teaching her about the wide world she inhabited, the plants and animals that lived alongside them, and how to bend the natural world to her will at the end of a hand-sharpened arrow. And it was her mother who sang to her about the world behind the one she could touch, taste, and see—about the one you feel, the one that responds to ritual and to rite, where spirits live and fate is spun. Though Skade loved her life at the timberline, the long hunts she spent with her fellow tribesmen and -women, the story-laden evenings spent weaving alongside her mother, it was that place—Beyond-the-Treeline-of-the-Wake-of-the-Wolves—that fascinated Skade more than anything else. And when the time came to choose a champion capable of outwitting the Moon-Eater’s corporeal shadow, the choice came down to one of balance, to a hunter who knew the physical terrain of their territory alongside the spiritual topography required of the task.

On that fated night, Skade Gandrstorthar chased the troll-hound through the silent, snow-dusted forest, over ice-rimmed streams and a wide frozen lake, up slick, wind-swept crags. Managarmr was cunning, wily, and slippery—but Skade was cunning as well, a silent and skillful huntress of twenty-three moons, and tracked his path through the mountains in a trial of stamina and wit. She pursued the monster to a cave, ducking beneath a snow-crusted outcropping of granite and descending into the dark, rime-glimmering maw. Her eyes, accustomed to long months of darkness in the Northern wilds, adjusted to the low light with ease. Even here, in the dim, she could sense the thinness between the planes—the hum of an unfamiliar yet parallel frequency, stirring in the air, like intersecting ripples across a pond. A skyward crack in the stone overhead allowed a long ray of soft moonlight to slip through, and it was not snow that flittered in the frosty air, but magic; the moon revealed itself in the sky above, a bright sphere, a great beacon. And there, his swarthy, ravenous eyes turned up towards the moon, sat Managarmr. He opened his jaws, teeth gleaming like ivory daggers, froth foaming around his maw, as he prepared to burst from his hiding place and consume the celestial body. As the beast stood upon his hind legs, Skade drew her arrow back, the fletching brushing her cold cheek, and loosed the projectile into Managarmr's throat. A broken howl echoed around the stony room as the great wolf crumpled, rattling his final labored, garbled breaths, before falling silent and still.

From the shadows emerged a gleeful pack of wolves, bounding and yelping joyfully. "She has slain Managarmr! She has banished the Moon-Eater! What a shrewd and skillful huntress!" One moment, they appeared corporeal, pelts snow-white and eyes moon-silver; then, in the next, their lithe bodies turned shimmering and spectral as if woven from frosty beams of moonlight, intelligent eyes glowing like cold, distant stars. They danced and sang praises towards the moon and towards Skade, flowing around her like a blizzard. “For the one who fettered Managarmr, we will follow the flight of your arrows.”

For her victory, Skade's tribe bestowed her the name "Wolf-Chaser" in recognition of her long hunt across the snow-swept wilderness in pursuit of Managarmr. And from the moon-worshiping wolf-spirits of the Feywilds, Skade has acquired her own Wolf-Wind, a spectral blizzard of fang and claw to aid her wherever her adventures may take her. They are called Bitrvedr, the fierce and biting storm that follows Skade, in the shape of large white female wolf; upon Skade's call, as if moonlight refracting through a crystal, Bitrvedr springs into a swarm of spectral hounds, bounding, yowling, and snarling at her command. They have followed her faithfully since the night of Managarmr's demise, on many adventures and quests. But this time, fate will take her far from home in search of her missing mother; though fraught with danger and peril, it is a journey Skade is prepared to make alongside her pack—both human and lupine.

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In the style of Yoshitaka Amano
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“Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.” - Ernest Hemingway

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