View allAll Photos Tagged Finalization
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Once a fallen archon twisted by alien code and infernal fire, Xal’Vorrak now roams the scorched rifts between dimensions. His skin pulses with a deep violet bioluminescence, stretched over a cybernetically enhanced musculature of obsidian alloy. Long, black, serpentine hair flows around him like living tendrils, twitching with latent static.
From his skull curve two titanic, rune-etched horns — plated with a sheen of scorched chrome, they resonate with forbidden signals from beyond time. His eyes glow like searing stars, a pair of arcane processors constantly calculating death.
Embedded in his chest is a core reactor—glowing in violet glyphs—surrounded by mechanical seams and cyber-organic growths. His voice is both a digital scream and a guttural growl, carrying corruption and prophecy.
Where he walks, circuits fail, machines weep, and the air cracks with molten hatred.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Bathed in the ambient glow of a distant nebula, the Starlit Sentinel stands watch aboard her orbiting vessel — a lone figure poised between duty and destiny. Her armored exosuit, forged of obsidian alloy and punctuated by glowing violet etchings, bears the marks of long-forgotten battles: scratches, dents, and celestial burn traces etched into its curved plates like a silent archive of survival.
Elegant yet unyielding, the suit fuses mythic elegance with tactical function. Pink luminous sigils coil across her chest and shoulder, pulsing faintly with reactive energy — ancient symbols of command or possibly forgotten rites of passage. Her stance is steady, but her sapphire eyes hold a depth beyond mere human thought — piercing, analytical, and oddly sorrowful, as though she’s seen civilizations rise and vanish among the stars.
The background hum of the ship’s reactor pulses softly behind her. Through the viewport at her back, the nebula blooms like a cosmic iris — a swirl of lavender, fuchsia, and deep indigo, mirroring the quiet storm within her. This is not just a warrior; she is a guardian of memory, a whisper from the edge of time.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Fotoshop
Fanart: A Nightmare On Elm Street
In this hyperrealistic horror portrait, Freddy Krueger emerges from the shadows with terrifying clarity. His scarred, molten flesh glows under dim, cinematic lighting, framed by the iconic wide-brimmed fedora and crimson-striped sweater. His infamous glove, now fitted with five gleaming, blood-honed blades, is raised in his signature pose — a haunting symbol of the nightmares he commands. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight, capturing the very essence of terror. Enhanced colors deepen the dread: the rich red of his sweater, the warm bronze of the glove, and the shadow-drenched backdrop conjure a chilling, painterly atmosphere. This is Freddy at his most vivid — not just a dream demon, but a waking nightmare given form.
U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry works with State Department Speechwriter Andrew Imbrie as he finalizes the remarks he was to deliver on January 22, 2016, to attendees at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. [State Department Photo/Public Domain]
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by The Death Gate Cycle
📜 Haplo’s Reflections at the Gate
“They told me it was a portal. A passage. A way forward. But what I see now... is a wound.”
The Death Gate loomed before me, swirling with colors no eye was meant to hold — a vortex carved into the firmament of the world itself. I could feel it in my bones: this gate was not made, it was ripped open.
Chained spirits hovered in silence, their translucent forms thrashing gently in unseen winds, moaning without mouths. I recognized them. Sartan — not alive, not dead. Kept.
“You left us to rot,” I whispered, not sure if I spoke to them… or to my own kind.
The obsidian pillars rose around me like judges at a trial. They bore the marks of ancient spells, some I recognized, many I didn’t. They burned red with the heat of the earth’s fury, but the real fire was behind my ribs — pounding. Not fear. Not yet. Memory.
I stepped forward, boots scraping ash and stone.
This gate is not a doorway. It is a question.
And the answer, I feared, was already written in the screams.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
Inspired by and Reimagined
Within the veiled woods where twilight lingers, she stands — Elarieth Virelen, the last flame of the Glimmerveil bloodline. Her gaze holds the golden shimmer of a fading sun and the magic of forgotten songs. Ruby braids frame her delicate, freckled face, and an amethyst choker glows at her throat, pulsing softly with ancestral power. As fireflies drift and ancient trees hum in stillness, her presence feels less like a person and more like a moment between worlds — real, radiant, and fleeting.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Deep within the shattered crypts of the forgotten realms, Aetherak awakens — a towering demon forged from obsidian armor and arcane flame. His body is a fortress of jagged black steel, pulsing with veins of living violet energy. At the heart of his chest burns the Hollow Flame, an ancient source of corrupt power sealed for millennia.
Crowned with horns and wrapped in wings of shadow, he stands beneath a broken sky laced with lightning, surrounded by the ruins of long-dead civilizations. Every step fractures the earth. Every breath disturbs the ashes of kings.
Boeing and Thai Airways International (THAI) have finalized a firm order for six 777-300 Extended Range (ER) airplanes. The order completes an agreement to purchase Boeing 777-300ERs announced during the Paris Air Show in June. At list prices, the order is valued at $1.7 billion.
Boeing provides this photo for the public to share. Media interested in high-resolution images for publication should email boeingmedia@boeing.com or visit boeing.mediaroom.com. Users may not manipulate or use this photo in commercial materials, advertisements, emails, products, or promotions without licensed permission from Boeing. If you are interested in using Boeing imagery for commercial purposes, email imagelicensing@boeing.com or visit www.boeingimages.com.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
From the deepest roots of the ancient forest, where time coils like ivy around forgotten myths, he rises — the Warden of Verdant Thunder.
His body is carved from centuries-old bark, wrapped in living vines and whispering leaves, each movement a creak of earth's memory. From his crown of antlers, twisted and vast like storm-touched branches, tiny blossoms bloom beside moss and fungi — nature's offerings to her eternal sentinel.
Eyes like twin lightning storms blaze with primeval energy, glowing through the mist as if charged by the forest’s own soul. Across his chest, a crack of living light pulses — not a wound, but a sacred mark, a conduit for wild magic older than flame or language.
He walks not as a man, but as the will of the woods — protector, judge, and myth incarnate. Where he stands, the trees bow. Where he passes, silence falls.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
"In the quiet of the forest, her eyes hold the oldest secrets."
Inspired by and Reimagined
In the mist-draped heart of the ancient woods, she steps forward — a guardian cloaked in violet leaves and shadowed grace. Her emerald eyes gleam like twin lanterns, reflecting both mischief and wisdom, while fireflies drift around her like sparks of forgotten spells.
Every stitch of her gown is grown, not sewn — woven from living branches and dusk-touched leaves that whisper with unseen power. Runes shimmer faintly in the undergrowth, marking her presence as something both feared and revered.
She is no passing spirit. She is the forest’s will, smiling softly at those who wander too deep.
Inspired by a reference image, reimagined in my own style.
“Each piece, its own ritual.”
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Velryssa Nyx'Zar is a sorceress-empress of ancient origin, ruler of the Amethyst Dominion, a realm between realms where magic is law and time bends to her will. Her obsidian-black armor is encrusted with flawless amethyst and blood ruby cores, harvested from dying stars and forged by voidforged smiths. Every gem on her body pulses with bound spirits — old gods, condemned kings, and traitorous lovers — trapped in eternal servitude.
Her eyes burn gold, a sign of divine corruption: once a celestial oracle, she defied the gods and consumed their power. The violet streaks beneath her eyes are war markings from the Forbidden Sigil War, which she ended alone by cursing the mouths of her enemies shut — forever.
Velryssa's beauty is a weapon; her presence is a spell. She is worshipped as both goddess and tyrant. Where she walks, the sky fractures, and silence spreads like fire.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Among the oldest Whisperglass familiars, the Ember-Tailed Scribe slumbers atop the ruin of knowledge—an ink-stained desk buried in scrolls, melted wax, and ash-scented books. While it appears as a soot-black cat, still and flickering only slightly with residual heat, its mirrored self reveals truth: a celestial scribe of flame and forgotten runes.
Wings of scorched parchment and fire stretch wide in the reflection. Ember horns curl like ancient quills. And across the mirror’s surface, glowing sigils write themselves into the air, suspended between breath and legend.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
🎬 BONEBUSTERS (1984...ish)
Who you gonna call? 🐾
“When there’s something strange in your neighborhood… and it smells like tuna… call the Bonebusters!”
Four unlikely canine heroes—Max the Golden, Barkley the Beagle, Shadow the Shepherd, and Duke the Frenchie—donned their proton packs to save the world from its most terrifying foe yet: a giant ghost-cat hoarding the bones of every good boy in history.
Armed with chew-toy-powered proton blasters, endless drool, and zero obedience training, these pups will do whatever it takes to fetch justice.
From the makers of Jurassic Purrk and The Meowtrix comes the tail-wagging, fur-raising, absurd comedy-horror you didn’t know you needed.
🐶✨ “Sit. Stay. Save the world.”
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Bathed in astral light, the Oracle of the Cosmic Veil emerges from the depths of the galaxy, her violet armor etched with arcane glyphs and ancient power. A radiant crystal pulses at her heart, channeling energy from the stars as glowing runes orbit behind her like a celestial halo. Her piercing gaze holds the wisdom of galaxies, her outstretched hands commanding the flow of magic through time and space. Surrounded by drifting asteroids and the remnants of forgotten worlds, she stands as a sentinel between realms—protector, prophet, and the last whisper of universal truth.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
Born of lightning and shadows, this banshee-demon hybrid unleashes its fury through the storm — a wraith wreathed in blackened robes, crowned with jagged horns, and seething with violet energy. Its skeletal face, painted with Sith-like markings, howls through a sky torn by purple lightning. Eyes of molten red pierce the void as chaos surges in its wake. A creature forged from pure rage and spectral power, screaming from beyond worlds.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Deep in the heart of the ancient jungle ruins, one brave pug dares to face the traps, the shadows, and the overwhelming temptation of... the legendary Golden Bone. Dressed for danger and driven by snacks, he’s not just man’s best friend—he’s archaeology’s boldest hero.
Trust the paw. Watch the swap.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
"When the embers bow, the flames obey."
A tyrant born from molten stone and eternal fire, the Infernal Crownbearer radiates a searing presence that even ruins cannot contain. His eyes blaze like volcanic hearts, his armor etched with sigils that pulse with molten lifeblood. Each breath scorches the air, and every step echoes like the fall of a burning empire. He is not merely a warrior—he is the dominion of flame, crowned by destruction itself.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Cloaked in leather, bathed in flame — the Bad Bad Panda takes the Oath of the Ember Fang.
In the neon-lit bamboo forests where justice burns hotter than fire, one silent warrior rises. His blade is not just forged in steel, but in fury.
🐼💥 This is no bedtime panda. This is retribution wrapped in fur and flame.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and reimagined from an existing image. All credit goes to the original creator.
Under violet lanterns and a sky heavy with stormlight, she emerges — clad in obsidian armor etched with secrets and shadows. Her eyes burn with purpose, glowing like amethyst fire. In each hand, a blade pulses with ancient energy, bound to her by blood oath and vengeance.
She walks unseen through alleys where light dares not linger. Her name is never spoken, only whispered in the final breath of those who cross her path.
By night’s decree and steel’s promise — she never misses her mark.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Hans Zimmer - Interstellar (Royal Albert Hall Organ)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Q2YBKFDXjQ
A lone figure stands before the great organ of the cosmos, where every pipe hums with the gravity of memory and stars sing through stained glass. This is not a place built by hands — it is shaped by silence, sorrow, and the pull of time itself.
Above, galaxies bloom across a vaulted sky. Below, obsidian floors reflect eternity.
Each note played is a message cast into the void — not for salvation, but remembrance. A prayer not for gods… but for those lost across time.
Inspired by the Interstellar score performed on the Royal Albert Hall organ — where sound becomes space, and music becomes myth.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by:
🎬 From the litter box of prehistory… comes chaos with claws. 🐾
When scientists clone cats from ancient fur fossils, they don’t bring back majestic hunters… they unleash the ultimate purring predators. With paws the size of meteors and hairballs deadlier than asteroids, these Jurassic furballs are ready to stalk, scratch, and nap their way through history.
🌴 Hunted in the jungle?
😼 Cornered in the kitchen?
🐾 Forget running — because life… finds a meow.
Jurassic Purrk: This summer, the cat is out of the bag… and into your nightmares.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X.
“You’re late,” she said.
Kaelis froze.
The woman stood barefoot on a floating stone, mist curling around her like a breath. One eye shimmered with starlight. The other held the color of old wounds.
Her body glowed softly — not with light, but with remnants.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she smiled. “But I remember you.”
“I’m Kaelis.”
“I’m Veyra. I speak for the places that no longer speak.”
The egg pulsed once.
And for the first time… someone else pulsed back.
Veyra wasn’t born in the Echozone — she was rewritten by it. Once a Cognetum scientist lost in an exploration mission, the Echozone didn’t kill her… it absorbed her, turning her into something in-between memory, magic, and matter. She’s chaotic, emotionally resonant, speaks in riddles — and somehow knows Kaelis’s name before he speaks it.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
EPICA - The Ghost In Me (Danse Macabre)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWoTDpU5G9k
Songteksten
When it seems like all hope is gone
Hear my sinister song
Why don't you sing along?
Come forward embrace the unknown
You're welcome in my haunted home
This abbey where stories are told
Watch closely, a nightmare unfolds
It's time to free the ghost in me
Possessed by this beautiful melody
Just come with me I'll make you see
To dance with the dead is your destiny
You'll be safe, just be brave, there's no need to be scared
(Oh no, we'll stay here in the light)
Come on have some fun, you will see the sun
When the show is done, follow if you dare
Hope fades as I'm closing the door
Too late, you can't leave anymore
Old fairy tales play by the rules
Here there be monsters and here there be ghouls
It's time to free the ghost in me
Possessed by this beautiful melody
Just come with me, I'll make you see
To dance with the dead is your destiny
Follow me and you'll see what I'm singing is true
(Oh no, don't look into her eyes)
As I hypnotize you will realize you cannot escape
Yellow and the blue
It's time to free the ghost in thee
Give in to the dark phantoms agony
(Our choir sings eternal songs
Abandon your fears while you sing along)
(We wonder what the shadows hide
Not scared anymore we shall go inside)
(The one unnamed's compelling thee
To echo this melody endlessly)
Take one more step beyond this door
And you will be singing forevermore
The orchestra's playing
Dark melodies swaying
Enchanting, betraying
It's time
Feel it beginning
Everything's spinning
Thunder, lightning
Joyfully frightening
Come and join the night with me
Come enjoy the ride with me
Let your ghost be free
So now you see the ghost in me
Eternally singing in harmony
And finally, we all agree
To dance with the dead is our destiny
As you surrender to me
Gone are the days of being afraid
Sing with me for eternity
Come take my hand
It's not too late
This must be fate
If you only trust me
I'll show you the way
My way
Come together, dance forever
Join us in our endless nightmare
Embracing the night while you sing with us forevermore
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and reimagined from an existing image. All credit goes to the original creator.
She walks where the veil is thinnest—where forests burn without flame, and shadows whisper in tongues older than bone. Wrapped in blackened roots and violet curse-veins, her body is little more than a vessel for rage, memory, and unspent sorrow.
Her eyes glow with the fire of forgotten offerings. Her fingers stretch like broken branches, searching for names long erased from stone.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
The Pursuit of...
A Ghost Ship Tribute Tale
The storm rises, but the sea does not roar — it listens.
Lanterns flicker on black sails long thought buried beneath time and tide. The Inferno returns, rising from legend with jaws of fire and a flag that carries death’s mark. Her crew is silent. Her wind is not of this world.
Ahead, a lone ship flees. Its flag still clings to the past — but the sea no longer respects nations. It respects only fear.
The waves crash. The mist thickens. A pursuit is underway.
But no one remembers what the Inferno chases.
Only that it never stops.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Born from the last breath of a dying world, The Horned Wrecker is not merely a machine — it is a curse on wheels. Forged in the black steel found only at the edge of the void, this demonic semi-truck roams the ruins of civilization with a hunger for chaos. Its face, once a grinning goblin, has twisted over time into a biomechanical nightmare — horned, fanged, and eternally enraged.
Twin exhaust towers rise like obsidian spires behind its cab, spewing smoke as thick as tar. Glowing red eyes pierce the darkness ahead, and its fanged maw never closes, as if frozen in an eternal scream. Where it drives, the road cracks, the skies bleed crimson, and lightning follows in its wake like the laughter of the damned.
No driver sits behind the wheel. No engine fuels its motion. The Horned Wrecker moves by will alone — a relic of a cosmic reckoning, revived when mankind dared to digitize souls and silence gods. Survivors say the truck doesn't chase you. It waits — until you're alone, broken, and too tired to run. That’s when you hear it.
The hum of the engine.
The red glow on the horizon.
And the scream of something mechanical... yet alive.
Boeing has finalized an agreement with Space Florida to use a processing facility at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center to build the Crew Space Transportation (CST)-100 spacecraft, an important step toward restoring the United States’ ability to launch humans into space. Pictured here is the low bay of the former Orbiter Processing Facility-3. Renamed the Commercial Crew and Cargo Processing Facility (C3PF), the building will be modernized to meet requirements to build the Boeing CST-100 capsule.
Boeing provides this photo for the public to share. Media interested in high-resolution images for publication should email boeingmedia@boeing.com or visit boeing.mediaroom.com. Users may not manipulate or use this photo in commercial materials, advertisements, emails, products, or promotions without licensed permission from Boeing. If you are interested in using Boeing imagery for commercial purposes, email imagelicensing@boeing.com or visit www.boeingimages.com.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Shrouded in ceremonial black adorned with intricate golden embroidery, the Emissary of the Gilded Veil stands within a sacred hall lit by ancient hanging lanterns. Her teal-hued skin and luminous eyes speak of a lineage older than memory, while ornate jewels and sacred adornments crown her as a figure of mystical authority. She watches in silence—seer, scholar, and keeper of forgotten oaths.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Forged not in a clan — but in a crucible of extinct stars, Ra’Zhun is not a hunter of prey. He is a hunter of timelines.
His armor is a second skin of voidmetal and fire-code, etched with glowing war glyphs and primal kill-marks from other worlds. Beneath his mask, no breath. No voice. Just data. Rage translated into algorithms. Each red pulse across his chest isn’t decoration — it’s a locked target.
Behind him, a dead city smolders under a blood moon — the aftermath of one hunt. Or the warning for the next.
He came not for the strongest. Not the fastest.
He came for the one fated to change everything.
Species: Yautja (Augmented Caste)
Designation: Ra’Zhun-AX13 “Augur of Ruin”
Combat Tier: Omega-Class | Interdimensional Adaptive Predator
Hunt Zone: Ruins of Delmar-9 (Dead World)
AI-generated via Mystic 2.5: Red Silence Protocol
Made a quick trip back to Japan to finalize my affairs there. I was too overwhelmed with the logistics of just the move itself back in July, thus had to leave some matters left undone until this week.
I was expecting to feel great about being back, and was even apprehensive about having doubts on our move away from Japan. However...I couldn't wait to get back 'home' to California. I even changed my return flight to a day earlier than planned.
While Japan was great for the 22 years I was there, I can't help but recall that I spent every weekend possible getting *out* of Tokyo to go hit the outdoors. And yet that whole ordeal of getting out of Tokyo just to access the great outdoors was quite the effort (leave late or leave early and drive in insane traffic for hours on end). Even bought an RV a few years back to make it easier to do so.
Where we live now though, that same level of nature is just outside our door. Great Country, great culture, great food, and *fantastic* people...its just time we move on to (literally) greener pastures.
So...on November 26th, 2011, I handed in my Resident's Card at Airport Immigration as I departed and informed them that my 22 years here as a resident has concluded.
Photo: Non-HDR shot taken of Mt. Fuji from my window seat at sunset as we approached Narita Airport.
Finalizing my last piece
The title of this piece is "Day's End at Great Bay" and the 20"x30" print is matted and framed to 24"x36".
I have 14 companion pieces in my "Landscapes of New Jersey" exhibit with a goal of encouraging residents to get off the beaten path and explore and protect our natural areas.
Photos on display June 5th - June 30th 2017
Morris County Library Hours and Info:
Mon-Thu: 9AM-9PM | Fri-Sat: 9AM-5PM
30 East Hanover Ave, Whippany, NJ 07981
973-285-6930
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Emerging from the mist-veiled wilds stands the Emberplume Warden — a towering avian sentinel draped in layers of shimmering crimson and obsidian feathers. Its face is a cracked bone mask of a bird of prey, adorned with a beak as sharp as its stare. Fiery orange eyes burn with ancient sentience beneath a headdress of flaring plumage, reminiscent of wildfire trapped in motion. Gold ornaments and enchanted trinkets hang from its chest and wrists, their designs echoing lost empires and celestial alignments. Its taloned hands, ink-black and clawed, hang ready to channel curses or summon storms. The surrounding forest bends with reverence or fear, cloaked in a green haze that parts in the Warden’s path. Every detail speaks of ritual, power, and an oath bound by blood and flame.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
"From the bones of empires, he rises in fire and fury."
Amid the shattered remains of forgotten civilizations, the Infernal Warlord stands unchallenged — a towering demon forged of obsidian flesh and molten rage. His eyes burn like twin suns of hellfire, casting crimson light across ancient ruins swallowed by ash and embers. Every plate of his blackened armor is etched with cursed runes, pulsing faintly as if alive, while jagged horns crown his skull like the spires of a dark citadel.
Chains of infernal gold and gemstones hang heavy across his chest, relics plundered from temples long consumed by fire. The very air trembles with the echo of his presence — sparks drifting, stone crumbling, as shadows bow before him. Neither god nor mortal dares claim these ruins, for they have become his throne.
Here stands the embodiment of eternal war — the Infernal Warlord, conqueror of ruins and harbinger of endless night.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
🎬 Lord of the Scratches
"One toy to rule them all."
From the creators of Jurassic Purrk and Fur Wars, comes the most epic tail-chasing saga ever told.
In a world where every scratching post is sacred and every laser pointer a weapon of mass distraction, one small housecat must rise. His destiny? To carry the Golden Toy — the most dangerous squeaky mouse in all existence — into the forbidden land of Vacuum Cleaners.
Joined by a fellowship of unlikely allies — a wise old Maine Coon, a chaotic kitten with ADHD, and a grumpy tabby who just wants a nap — he will face unspeakable horrors:
🐾 The Dark Lord of Dogs.
🐾 The Eye of the Vet.
🐾 And the ultimate terror… Bath Time.
This summer, witness the claws, the purrs, and the snacks that will change history forever.
🐾 Lord of the Scratches — coming soon to a litter box near you. 🐾
Boeing and GE Capital Aviation Services (GECAS), the commercial aircraft leasing and financing arm of General Electric , finalized a firm order for 85 737s, which includes 75 737 MAX 8s and 10 Next-Generation 737-800s. The order, first announced as a commitment at the Farnborough Airshow in July, allows for up to 15 additional 737-800s.
For more information: www.boeing.com/newairplane//737max/gecas/
Boeing provides this photo for the public to share. Media interested in high-resolution images for publication should email boeingmedia@boeing.com or visit boeing.mediaroom.com. Users may not manipulate or use this photo in commercial materials, advertisements, emails, products, or promotions without licensed permission from Boeing. If you are interested in using Boeing imagery for commercial purposes, email imagelicensing@boeing.com or visit www.boeingimages.com.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
The Chronicles of Vel’ira Morvain
Vel’ira Morvain, known in whispers as the Amethyst Thorn, is the last sovereign of a fallen dynasty carved from ruin and fire. Cloaked in obsidian-black armor etched with skull motifs and glinting violet runes, she walks among the ruins of a world scorched by betrayal and shadow. Her hair, a flowing cascade of ember-red silk, defies the stillness of the air — as if stirred by the remnants of arcane winds long forgotten.
The land she treads was once a sanctuary of fae and flame, now reduced to bones of broken stone and glowing wildflowers that thrive on ash. In her gaze burns a quiet fury, and in her silence, a vow yet fulfilled. Vel’ira does not seek vengeance — she embodies it.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Seraphyne Virelda is the immortal ruler of the Shattered Realm — a kingdom once bathed in light, now consumed by shadow. She wears a crown of obsidian and blood-red rubies, set with amethysts that imprison the souls of fallen prophets. Her piercing green-gold eyes see through all deception — lies simply dissolve in her gaze.
Her black and violet armor is not merely ceremonial: it’s a living fusion of arcane metal and sentient magic, feeding off her will. The rubies embedded in her chestplate pulse with power when she speaks spells or bends time to her will.
She is feared for her merciless sense of justice, and revered for her tragic past: once a priestess of light, betrayed by her sacred order. In her downfall, she found strength — and in the darkness, she was reborn.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
The Runecode Series
Inside the sanctum of the ancient Runecode Spires, buried beneath aeons of techno-sorcerous ruin, the chamber glows with a pulse that predates time. At its core stands a massive, transparent resurrection cylinder, infused with violet energy veins and rotating glyph wheels. Encased within is the full figure of Vorrak’tul, progenitor of the Krythomortis.
His form is skeletal yet sovereign — a fusion of dark biomechanical armor and arcane sigils. Data-dreadlocks cascade like wired serpents over his shoulders. A glowing runic heart-core pulses from his chest, etched with forbidden symbols of the Sigil of Null Binding, radiating power through the mist and hex-light.
Floating symbols orbit the containment glass like protective wards, flickering in unstable patterns. Energy tendrils rise from the floor, interacting with glyphs carved into the obsidian architecture. Smoke curls around the base of the chamber, and violet sparks flicker in the air like shattered realities reforming.
Vorrak’tul's eyes blaze open — bright amethyst fires lighting the dark. The chamber groans, and the circle of resurrection completes. The first Krythomortis is reborn, not from life... but from code, curse, and crypt.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
"From ash he rises, and to ash he returns all who oppose him."
A creature forged in the crucible of war, the Ashfang Warlord strides with the fury of a thousand battles carved into his soul. His mane, pale as winter fire, thrashes against the storm, while his golden eyes burn like molten suns beneath the ash. Clad in ornate armor, etched with ancient sigils of conquest, he is both beast and king — a roar given form, a tempest given flesh. Wherever his shadow falls, the earth trembles, for he carries the weight of ruin and the promise of endless war.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
At the delicate threshold between the Dreamflow and the Waking Woodlands lies the Silversleep Verge — a golden sanctuary where magic crystallizes into form, and time seems to pause just to listen.
Towering trees with spiraling trunks stretch skyward, their bark veined with soft golden light. Between their roots and ancient stones lie pools of quiet magic, glowing with liquid radiance — this is the Dreamflow, a river not of water, but of thought and memory, drifting gently through the grove.
Here, there are no shadows — only softened light. And voices echo in ways that suggest they may not be your own. The deeper one walks into the Verge, the harder it becomes to tell whether they are dreaming... or have simply forgotten how to wake.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
When kingdoms fall and even the gods forget, some names still burn.
Once a warlord, now something far worse, the Black Flame Revenant walks the ruins of his own forgotten empire — not as a ghost, but as a curse that refuses to die. His skull is charred, etched with the cracks of damnation, and his eyes burn with an inferno not of this world.
Cloaked in shredded black cloth and bound in rusted armor, his form is crowned by a pauldron marked with an ancient pentagram seal, the symbol of an oath made in blood and fire. No breath fills his lungs. No soul remains in his chest. Yet the world remembers him — through plague, through war, through the silence of ash.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
“Before you belong to Emberhollow, Emberhollow dreams of you.”
At some point—upon entering Emberhollow, brushing against a sacred stone, or falling into a sleep deeper than memory—every soul is eventually drawn into the Dreamstate of Velthar.
It is not a dream. It is a vision. And it always appears the same:
You float in a twilight void, wrapped in perfect silence. The swirling mists part, and you see them—two versions of the same creature:
Velthar, the Unweaver.
Above: cloaked in crackling shadow, claws extended, eyes glowing with unreadable power.
Below: the same form, gentler, almost curious, its cloak aglow with drifting starlight and soft violet fire.
Between them spins a radiant tear in space—a swirling core of raw magic and memory, beautiful and unbearable. It pulses like a heartbeat, or a forgotten name.
You are not spoken to.
You are felt.
Emotion fills the air—conflict, recognition, the ache of possibility.
One form urges caution.
The other calls for change.
The third… leaves you changed.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
The Loomvault of Venselith is a vast subterranean sanctum woven from the will and wisdom of generations of Thread-Tongued Nyrith. Massive columns rise like spiraled spindles, their surfaces bound in layers of living fiber and echo-thread. The vaulted ceiling curves like the inside of a loom-bowl, embedded with constellations of knot-stars — a celestial weave tracking time, oathcycles, and memory threads.
At the chamber’s heart stands the Memory Loom, a sacred construct of gold-silk rope and soul-fibers, each strand a name, vow, or secret made manifest. Light flows through engraved channels in the stone floor — glowing root-like patterns that pulse with silent meaning, reacting to presence, intent, or forgotten truths.
Glowing thread-lanterns drift gently from the ceiling, inscribed with old bindings in the Nyrith glyph-language, illuminating the hall with warm, spellbound light. Benches, looms, and braid-tables line the edges of the chamber — all unused unless summoned by rite.
There is no echo here. All sound is absorbed by the fabric-laced walls — not muted, but woven away. Even thought seems slower here, as if awaiting approval.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Cats as Royalty. Based on the Dinkies in SL.
Disclaimer:
This artwork is inspired by the Dinkies avatars from Second Life, originally created by Tiny Inc (Etheria Parrott). It is a fan-made creation and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or associated with Tiny Inc or Linden Lab. All rights to the original Dinkies concept belong to their respective creators.
I haven't finalized all the sizes, but I'm close. What you see here are:
* On the right is the mini with added 3D side pockets (optional extra - the body is the same width as the blue one, but the side pockets give it the impression of being a good deal wider).
* In the middle is a small, which is slightly taller and slightly deeper than the mini.
* On the left is the picnic size - the large will be as tall as it, but the picnic size is deeper. It's a little larger than an Ostrich bag, which is a good deal deeper than Berthoud bags)
Not pictured, because I haven't made them yet, are the medium and large "regular" bags. They'll be the same width and depth as the blue one, with the same pockets, just with increasing heights. I can also customize the height on request.
They will also be using a traditional plain shock cord closure which loops over a metal lacing hook on the bag body. My hardware for that just isn't arriving until the middle of next week, otherwise the blue one would have used it.
Taking orders in March. Sign up for the email list to get notified first.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
In the heart of an ancient, glowing jungle where trees twist like serpents and flowers hum with strange energy, the Wildborn Priestess stands as the spiritual core of a forgotten tribe. Draped in sun-warmed amber fabrics and furs gifted by the forest, her body is adorned with enchanted trinkets, bone charms, and woven sigils of protection and power. Twin horns spiral skyward from beneath her braided hair—a symbol of her pact with the primal spirits.
She communes with beasts and ancestral echoes, her chants sending ripples through the jungle’s pulse. The villagers revere her not only as a guide but as a myth given form, said to be born from the soil under a blood moon. Wherever she steps, wildfires hesitate and vines part in silent reverence.
Front of the five star Hotel Barriere Le Normandy on the opening day of the Deauville American Film Festival 2016, Deauville, Normandy, France
Some background information:
The hotel Barriere Le Normandy is most likely the most famous hotel in Deauville, with a legendary chic that dates back to the Edwardian Age. Its construction began in 1912 and its Anglo-Norman architecture includes half-timbering, dovecotes, turrets, gables, and a decor that resembles a cosy but stately English country house. Originally built to house well-heeled gamblers from the nearby casino, it continues to draw the gambling crowd today. During the Deauville American Film Festival it also houses American film stars (like Clint Eastwood, Robert de Niro or Tom Cruise), French-language stars (like Isabelle Adjani, Sylvie Testud or Claude Lelouch) and the members of the jury. The hotel holds five stars and includes over 250 rooms that contain an array of antique furniture and traditional fabrics. By the way, Le Normandy Barriere was used as the filming location of Agatha Christie's Poirot in the episode "The Murder on the Links".
Deauville is a seaside resort in the Norman department of Calvados in northwestern France. Although it has just a population of about 3,800 people, it comes up with a race course, an international film festival, a Grand Casino, a conference centre, several marinas, numerous villas and sumptuous hotels. Deauville is regarded as the "queen of the Norman beaches" and one of the most prestigious seaside resorts in all of France. As the closest seaside resort to Paris, the town and its region of the Côte Fleurie (in English: "Flowery Coast") has long been home to French high society's seaside houses and is often referred to as the Parisian Riviera. Since the 19th century, Deauville has been a fashionable holiday resort for the international upper class. It is also known for its role in Marcel Proust's novel "In Search of Lost Time".
Deauville’s history can be traced back to 1060, when Lord Hubert du Mont-Canisy dominated the magnificent land which was previously known as Auevilla. In 1066, Hubert du Mont-Canisy left to follow William the Conqueror to England.
However, until 1860, Deauville remained a rather unimportant little seaside town. In that year Duke Charles Auguste Louis Joseph de Morny, half-brother of the emperor Napoleon III, began to transform Deauville into a more travelled resort. Until his death in 1865, certain key investments were made that would transform Deauville’s history. Such investments included a railway from Paris to Deauville, the Deauville hippodrome for horse races, and a small casino. Within three years, over forty villas were constructed in the surrounding area, and 200 rooms, as well as other accommodations, were finalized in the Grand Hotel.
Following the duke’s death, Deauville grew gradually, but it was not until the early 20th century when the town was pushed into another important period of transformation and development. The still-famous Le Normandy Barrière and Royal hotels and the casino opened in the years 1911 and 1913. During these successful years before World War I, many luxury boutiques opened in the streets of Deauville (e.g. Coco Chanel's first shop), as many stores from Paris decided it was worthwhile establishing themselves in the up-and-coming Norman resort.
During World War I, wounded soldiers were cared for in Deauville’s casino and famous hotels like Le Normandy Barriere and Royal Barriere. Unfortunately, the war also took a heavy toll on Deauville’s blossoming market and trade sector as merchants were forced to give many of their products to the war effort.
In 1923, Les Planches – the famous wooded boardwalk that parallels the whole seaside – was created and finalized. The promenade has a length of 643 metres and a width of nine metres. Both boardwalk and the Art Deco buildings lining the promenade were planned by the architect Charles Adda.
The combination of the national financial crisis and World War II completely removed the paradisiacal aura of Deauville that would not resurface until the 1950s. During the war the German Army occupied Deauville, while villas, hotels, and the casino were all occupied or used to some extent by the German forces. But in the fifities and sixties Deauville became again a centre for high society and celebrities from almost every field. With scenes of award-winning movies being filmed in Deauville, the Deauville American Film Festival (established in 1975) and endless celebrity traffic, the town has definitely renewed its status as an emblematic resort town of Europe.