in the dimly lit recesses of an ancient church, the rotting legion convenes in eerie silence. a 35 year old hooded figure, draped in tattered black robes, stands at the forefront of the gathering, its face a death's mask of decay and corruption. the air is heavy with the scent of rot and damp earth as the legion's members, each one more gruesome than the last, slowly turn to regard their leader. the walls of the church are adorned with crumbling frescoes, their once vibrant colors faded to dusty hues that seem to bleed into the shadows. cobwebs cling to the stained glass windows like macabre tapestries, casting an otherworldly glow over the proceedings. the very atmosphere seems to writhe and twist in agony, as if the church itself was a living entity tormented by the presence of these unholy creatures. as the legion's leader raises its hands, the shadows seem to deepen and writhe like dark tentacles, drawing forth an unseen power that hangs suspended in the air like a miasma. the air is heavy with foreboding, and it becomes clear that this is no ordinary gathering for here, the rotting legion plots its next move towards unspeakable darkness and horror., <lora:sdxl_lightning_8step_lora.safetensors:0.6>