Or that’s what he thought he’d done: What he’d actually clicked on was an ad Google had unwittingly sold to a scammer disguised as Midjourney. He clicked on the top result, and with a few more clicks he downloaded and installed the app. The executive, who we’ll call Matthew, started the way most people look for things on the internet: He flipped open his laptop and typed the AI company’s name, Midjourney, into Google. She coils her hair in her fingers and continues to stare at you without saying a word, waiting for you speak.On a recent Saturday night, a bored tech executive decided to play around with an artificial intelligence app he’d been hearing about. A familiar grin appears across her pink, full lips – that subtle welcome of your presence to her lonely day. She lays down her hammer on a work table to wipe away the wet from her face and steps toward you. Her eyes slowly meet up with yours as you enter the forge. From the shadows, you gaze at Ingrid’s angelic face glistening with small beads of brine - unconcealed beauty that belies an uncommon strength underneath, you think to yourself. Her silhouette looms full in front of the bellowing furnace, its yellow-white tongues of fire lapping at its gaping mouth. Her sweaty arm splashes away small drops with each pounding. Crisp, rhythmic peals cry out perfect notes with each strike, as if a heavy clapper clangs against the lip of a large, cast bronze bell.
She wields a mean hammer to an enormous iron anvil in her corner of Oldinn. Bred of sturdy stock from kinfolk in the northern highlands of Elderath, she left home at an early age and ventured south at the invitation and tutelage of Alarion to work in Oldinn as a blacksmith. Her half-shaven head drapes a curly, red tress down her muscular, right shoulder. That muscular wench of Oldinn, ever hard at work in her forge.
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