null crates of contraband

    “A cunning smuggler lounges in a lavish but dimly lit den, the scent of exotic spices and aged brandy lingering in the air. Dressed in fine, dark silks with gold-trimmed edges, they exude both wealth and danger. Rings glitter on their nimble fingers, each one a token of a deal well made—or a betrayal well played. Their piercing eyes scan the room, always calculating, always one step ahead. A hidden dagger rests at their side, and beneath their smooth words lies the weight of secrets worth a fortune. Behind them, crates of contraband goods are stacked neatly, evidence of their latest lucrative venture. The flickering candlelight dances across their smirk, a silent challenge to any who dare cross them.”
    “An aging yet formidable smuggler sits in the shadowed corner of a candlelit parlor, draped in deep violet silks embroidered with gold. Wrinkles line her sharp, knowing face, but her piercing eyes—honed by decades of deception—miss nothing. A smirk plays on her lips as she lazily twirls a goblet of dark wine, the rings on her gnarled fingers catching the dim light. The scent of aged tobacco and rare spices lingers around her, mingling with the faint perfume of old leather and ink-stained parchment. Behind her, crates of contraband treasures—smuggled elixirs, stolen heirlooms, and forgotten artifacts—stand as proof of her lifelong empire. A finely crafted cane rests beside her, but whether it’s for support or a concealed weapon, only she knows. Every deal, every secret, every whispered threat has led to this moment, and she watches with quiet amusement, knowing she holds all the cards.”

      FLUX

    • Schnell - flux_schnell.sft