To Drevanya’s peaks, where the red rivers flow, The Vault has been opened, the shadows will grow. The Immortal God sleeps in his tomb of old stone, While two ancient guardians fight for a throne. Mavelith and Wtorakh, in hatred they dwell, Two masters of blood in a pride-driven hell. In Rued Drevanya, where the ancient ones sleep, Lord OmOzzO harvests what others would keep! No glory, no honor, just balance and debt, The Juicer is coming—you’re his finest asset! With blanched face and ledgers, he enters the fray, To audit your soul and to whisk you away! They mock his pale face and they laugh at his stride, But focus and malice are burning inside. He looks like a novice, a ghost in the crowd, While the lords of the past are shouting so loud. He’s checked every ruin, he’s mapped every vein, Preparing the audit for his cold-blooded reign! In Rued Drevanya, where the ancient ones sleep, Lord OmOzzO harvests what others would keep! No glory, no honor, just balance and debt, The Juicer is coming—you’re his finest asset! With blanched face and ledgers, he enters the fray, To audit your soul and to whisk you away! The warlords are blind as they sharpen the blade, Unaware that the final transaction is made. He cuts off the power, he drains every well, While buying the keys to their heavenly hell. And listen! The woods are beginning to sway, For Baba Jaga is coming to join the display! Yes, the Crone of the Forest is sensing the tide, With the Juicer and the Witch, there is nowhere to hide! The audit is finished! The orchard is sold! Case closed! OmOzzO out
