🎨 LoRA Title
Elmore_IL – The Legendary Fantasy Style of Larry Elmore
🧙♂️ Model Description & Tribute
This LoRA is not just another model—it’s a love letter to Larry Elmore, the man whose brush brought my childhood to life, and whose art shaped the imagination of millions of dreamers, gamers, and artists across generations.
Elmore_IL captures the essence of Larry’s iconic 1980s fantasy art: lush oil paintings, heroic adventurers, epic battles, radiant sorceresses, snow-swept forests, and mighty dragons looming in the background, all rendered in the high-drama, high-fantasy style that defined Dungeons & Dragons at its peak.
This LoRA is trained specifically to reflect that visual legacy—ideal for character lineups, NSFW sword & sorcery pinups, fully clothed battle scenes, and even monster-infested group compositions. It reproduces Elmore’s realism in anatomy, his unmatched sense of color and costume, and most importantly—his storytelling power. Every image looks like a lost cover from a forgotten D&D module or a rare Dragonlance novella.
✍️ A Personal Note — Why This Matters to Me
I was 9 years old when I got my first copy of the Dungeons & Dragons Red Box—the original Basic Set, illustrated by Larry Elmore. That cover burned itself into my memory: a warrior mid-swing against a fire-breathing red dragon, a sorceress raising her hand beside him, tension and movement in every brushstroke. I didn’t know what oil painting was yet—but I knew that image was alive.
Inside that box, Larry's fingerprints were on everything—every spell illustration, every race portrait, every dungeon map sketch. His art was D&D to me. He didn’t just show characters; he gave them souls. He painted worlds that looked like the inside of my mind on fire: magic-infused, brutal, sexy, heroic, deadly, and epic all at once.
And it wasn’t just the Red Box. Larry’s work was everywhere—Dragon Magazine, AD&D covers, The Complete Book of Elves, Unearthed Arcana, Spelljammer, Mystara, and the unforgettable Dragonlance Chronicles. Tanis, Raistlin, Goldmoon—they all had Larry’s fingerprints. If it had a sword, a busty sorceress, or a frost-rimed battlefield—it was probably him. Even when I didn’t realize it, I was chasing Elmore.
He made me want to draw. To create. To worldbuild. Without his art, I never would have touched a brush or typed a word of fiction. This LoRA exists because I had to honor that. It’s my way of saying, “Thank you, Larry. You made this real.”
🧪 Model Specs
Trigger word:
Elmore_ILBest weight: 0.8–1.0
Trained on: curated fantasy art & NSFW compositions in the Elmore visual style
Style: oil-painted fantasy, realistic human anatomy, strong color grading, expressive character poses, vivid faces, ornate clothing and armor
NSFW support: yes (realistic and respectful; swords held correctly, faces clear)
🎯 Ideal For
D&D-style fantasy portraits or action shots
NSFW fantasy warrior girls (think Red Sonja x Elmore)
Sword-and-sorcery teams facing down dragons
Snowy battlefields, tavern seductions, throne room drama
Full party size charts and character spreads
Image-to-image passes over pencil sketches or Elmore-style lineart
🔥 Example Prompt
NSFW, <lora:Elmore_IL:0.9>, Elmore_IL, larry_elmore, highly detailed and colorful fantasy illustration in 1980s oil painting style, multiple adventurers in dramatic battle poses, enchanted swords held correctly, magic glow, realistic and expressive faces, revealing fantasy armor, dragons or monsters in the background, snow-covered terrain and bare trees, cinematic lighting, inspired by Larry Elmore’s Red Box and Dragonlance artwork
CopyEdit
NSFW, <lora:Elmore_IL:0.9>, Elmore_IL, larry_elmore, highly detailed and colorful fantasy illustration in 1980s oil painting style, multiple adventurers in dramatic battle poses, enchanted swords held correctly, magic glow, realistic and expressive faces, revealing fantasy armor, dragons or monsters in the background, snow-covered terrain and bare trees, cinematic lighting, inspired by Larry Elmore’s Red Box and Dragonlance artwork
🚫 Negative Prompt
blurry, cartoon, anime, flat colors, distorted anatomy, bad hands, censored, watermarked, logo, cropped face, photorealism, simplified style, pastel palette
blurry, cartoon, anime, flat colors, distorted anatomy, bad hands, censored, watermarked, logo, cropped face, photorealism, simplified style, pastel palette
🙏 Thank You, Larry Elmore
Larry Elmore is not just an illustrator—he is a founding father of modern fantasy art. Alongside titans like Frank Frazetta and Boris Vallejo, Elmore carved a visual language that defined the Dungeons & Dragons era. But where Frazetta was primal and Boris was divine, Larry gave us something else: personality, romance, narrative, and raw adventure.
His characters felt like people. His scenes were more than battles—they were moments. His women were beautiful but powerful. His men were strong but vulnerable. And his monsters always looked like they just caught you off guard and were about to charge.
Without Larry Elmore, there would be no fantasy art scene like the one we have today. And I would not be making this LoRA, this tribute, this art, or this post.
🔗 Visit the Legend Himself
🎨 https://larryelmore.com
Buy his prints. Support the master. Honor the legacy.
The snow hissed beneath boot and hoof as the adventuring party crested the ridge. Five hardened souls, armored in myth and scarred by legend, stood before the mouth of the cavern like ants before the furnace of hell. They had followed the scent of smoke and slaughter for three days through the frost-bitten spine of the north.
And there it was. The lair.
Inside, the red dragon stirred.
Kael the blade-saint took the lead, his greatsword dragging a line of sparks across the stone as he walked. Beside him moved Mira of the Flame—a fire-wielding warlock born of a hell pact and desperate for redemption. Behind them: Balric the dwarven oathbreaker, priest of no gods; Serah the huntress, quiet as snowfall; and at the rear, young Halrin, bard and dreamer, clenching his lute like it might turn back fire.
They found the dragon in its den, asleep on a mountain of melted gold and blackened bones. The heat radiating off its scales made the very air ripple. Kael raised his hand, signaling silence. Then—he charged.
They hit the wyrm like thunder. Arrows, flame, divine smite. Steel on scale. For a heartbeat, it looked like victory.
Then the dragon opened its eyes.
What came next was not a battle.
It was a massacre.
The dragon's roar cracked the ceiling. Fire blasted forth in a cone of annihilation—Halrin vanished mid-verse, reduced to ash and memory. Balric ran screaming through the inferno, armor glowing red, lungs seared from the inside. Mira screamed as the creature swatted her into a wall like a gnat, her body folding with a wet crunch.
Serah loosed one last arrow. It bounced harmlessly from the dragon’s brow.
Kael stood alone, sword lowered, steam rising from his armor. “Face me,” he said.
The dragon did.
With one final exhale, it unleashed a furnace breath that turned the warrior's final stand into a silhouette frozen in flame.
When it was over, the beast coiled atop its hoard once more. The scent of cooked flesh filled the cavern.
Another party. Another myth ended.
And the red dragon slept.
Content. Unchallenged. Unburned.
Description
The snow hissed beneath boot and hoof as the adventuring party crested the ridge. Five hardened souls, armored in myth and scarred by legend, stood before the mouth of the cavern like ants before the furnace of hell. They had followed the scent of smoke and slaughter for three days through the frost-bitten spine of the north.
And there it was. The lair.
Inside, the red dragon stirred.
Kael the blade-saint took the lead, his greatsword dragging a line of sparks across the stone as he walked. Beside him moved Mira of the Flame—a fire-wielding warlock born of a hell pact and desperate for redemption. Behind them: Balric the dwarven oathbreaker, priest of no gods; Serah the huntress, quiet as snowfall; and at the rear, young Halrin, bard and dreamer, clenching his lute like it might turn back fire.
They found the dragon in its den, asleep on a mountain of melted gold and blackened bones. The heat radiating off its scales made the very air ripple. Kael raised his hand, signaling silence. Then—he charged.
They hit the wyrm like thunder. Arrows, flame, divine smite. Steel on scale. For a heartbeat, it looked like victory.
Then the dragon opened its eyes.
What came next was not a battle.
It was a massacre.
The dragon's roar cracked the ceiling. Fire blasted forth in a cone of annihilation—Halrin vanished mid-verse, reduced to ash and memory. Balric ran screaming through the inferno, armor glowing red, lungs seared from the inside. Mira screamed as the creature swatted her into a wall like a gnat, her body folding with a wet crunch.
Serah loosed one last arrow. It bounced harmlessly from the dragon’s brow.
Kael stood alone, sword lowered, steam rising from his armor. “Face me,” he said.
The dragon did.
With one final exhale, it unleashed a furnace breath that turned the warrior's final stand into a silhouette frozen in flame.
When it was over, the beast coiled atop its hoard once more. The scent of cooked flesh filled the cavern.
Another party. Another myth ended.
And the red dragon slept.
Content. Unchallenged. Unburned.
