Buried beneath the stench of gold, Trufus slithers through roots grown cold. Snout like a dagger, hunger unbound, He scours the soil where hope was found. Truffles hoarded in pits of ash, He feasts as the fields turn to trash. Piglet cries echo through the dirt, He grins wide — he thrives on hurt! TRUFUS! THIEF OF THE EARTH’S BLACK BONE! Choking the land from a gluttonous throne! Let the weak wither — let the fields decay, No swine shall eat while I rule the day! Crown of filth, tusks carved in spite, He bellows famine in the dead of night. From trough to tomb, all shall crawl, Beneath the hoof of his truffle-thief thrall. His wish? Starvation — a blight divine. He mocks the starving with roots of swine. Oink of madness, squeal of doom, He plants despair where the flowers bloom. Burn the harvest! Crack the seed! Pig-kind shall serve his greed. No feast for kin, no mercy fed — Only mold and ash and dread! TRUFUS! THIEF OF THE EARTH’S BLACK BONE! Choking the land from a gluttonous throne! Let the weak wither — let the fields decay, No swine shall eat while I rule the day! But whispers stir in the starving dust... An uprising snorts with vengeful gust. The hogs of hope now bare their fangs — Trufus shall drown in his own swine fangs!
