A close up of a demonic looking man with a sword in a cave

A dark medieval panoramic scene and oppressive, immersed in deep shadows and illuminated only by the lightning that tears through the stormy sky. in the center, an imposing wizard dominates the scene — his figure is wrapped in a cloak that seems to twitch as if he were alive, stitched with dark threads that twist like serpents. Profane runes shine in a crimson tone, pulsating like open wounds, radiating an evil energy that seems to distort the air around. Your eyes are empty pits of absolute darkness, and he holds a staff made of intertwined bones, adorned with human skulls engraved with blasphemous sigils. From the larger skull, positioned at the top, shed a viscous black liquid that creeps down the staff like curdled blood. At your feet, a warrior woman kneels inside a ritualistic circle drawn with fresh blood, lines meander across the floor forming ancient and hidden symbols. The marks shine dimly, as if they were on the verge of winning. the warrior , with a distorted expression, alternate between terror and a strange fascination. Their armor is cracked and twisted, revealing burnt flesh where runes were brutally marked on his skin — scars that shine in harmony with the symbols on the floor. Around the circle, skeletal hands emerge from the dark earth, your thin, contorted fingers creeping up like hungry spiders. Some of these hands hold old, cracked mugs, from which a thick black beer flows, as if it were oil mixed with blood. Other hands wield ancient brewing tools — twisted shovels, spoons of must covered with blackened crusts and oxidized copper streamers, all dyed with a thick substance that smells like rot. Wooden barrels , bursting like rotting carcasses, Pour a dark beer that creeps across the floor, meandering towards the ritualistic circle as if attracted by an invisible force.
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A dark medieval panoramic scene and oppressive, immersed in deep shadows and illuminated only by the lightning that tears through the stormy sky. in the center, an imposing wizard dominates the scene — his figure is wrapped in a cloak that seems to twitch as if he were alive, stitched with dark threads that twist like serpents. Profane runes shine in a crimson tone, pulsating like open wounds, radiating an evil energy that seems to distort the air around. Your eyes are empty pits of absolute darkness, and he holds a staff made of intertwined bones, adorned with human skulls engraved with blasphemous sigils. From the larger skull, positioned at the top, shed a viscous black liquid that creeps down the staff like curdled blood.
At your feet, a warrior woman kneels inside a ritualistic circle drawn with fresh blood, lines meander across the floor forming ancient and hidden symbols. The marks shine dimly, as if they were on the verge of winning. the warrior , with a distorted expression, alternate between terror and a strange fascination. Their armor is cracked and twisted, revealing burnt flesh where runes were brutally marked on his skin — scars that shine in harmony with the symbols on the floor.
Around the circle, skeletal hands emerge from the dark earth, your thin, contorted fingers creeping up like hungry spiders. Some of these hands hold old, cracked mugs, from which a thick black beer flows, as if it were oil mixed with blood. Other hands wield ancient brewing tools — twisted shovels, spoons of must covered with blackened crusts and oxidized copper streamers, all dyed with a thick substance that smells like rot.
Wooden barrels , bursting like rotting carcasses, Pour a dark beer that creeps across the floor, meandering towards the ritualistic circle as if attracted by an invisible force.
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