a dark and dingy lair, lit only by flickering candles and a hint of malevolent magic, serves as the backdrop for the rat king's most recent escapade. perched atop a throne carved from a gnarled, twisted tree root is the rat king himself, a 35 year old man with a mop of unruly black hair and a wicked grin. he's dressed in tattered, black velvet robes, complete with a pointed hat adorned with tiny, shiny trinkets and baubles. in one hand, he clutches a scepter fashioned from a giant, curved piece of bone, while the other holds aloft a dripping, golden chalice filled to the brim with what appears to be a dubious looking cocktail. a few stray rats scurry about his feet, nipping at his toes and attempting to lap up spills from the chalice. the rat king's laughter echoes through the lair, infectious and maniacal, as he raises the chalice in a toast to his own, questionable genius. the air is thick with the scent of cheap perfume, stale cigarettes, and something vaguely rodent like. a haphazard assortment of dusty, old books, candles, and mysterious artifacts clutter the shelves and tables, giving the lair a delightfully chaotic feel. amidst all this chaos, the rat king sits, reigning supreme over his kingdom of questionable morals and dubious deeds., <lora:sdxl_lightning_8step_lora.safetensors:0.6>