Vaults of Gold (Ritual for Clauneck) скачать в хорошем качестве

Vaults of Gold (Ritual for Clauneck)

A shadow‑soaked summoning of Clauneck, infernal treasurer and patron of occult prosperity from grimoires like the Grimorium Verum. Metallic percussion and whispered bargains circle around themes of poverty, risk, and calling underground wealth up from the dark. Clauneck… infernal treasurer… Lord of the vaults where the lost coins weep. Come from the earth where the treasures sleep, Open the locks that my fortunes keep.[Verse 1 – low, almost spoken] You sit by a fire with a toad in your hand, Coins spilling slow from a bottomless land. Monkey‑faced demon with eyes like old gold, Master of merchants, of secrets untold. They call for your aid when the ledgers run red, When poverty bites like a curse on the bread. Dressed in the rags of a pauper’s disguise, Yet keys to abundance hang low at your thighs. Clauneck, Clauneck, open the vein of the earth, Pour out the wealth of unmeasured worth. Clauneck, Clauneck, treasurer of the pit, Turn barren ledgers to glittering writ. Clauneck, Clauneck, lord of the golden flood, Wash through the chains of my pauper’s blood. Infernal banker, if coin is your throne, Make this dry soil spit silver and stone. You taught the art of the endless return, Where copper breeds silver, where silver will burn. Appeared to the mage with a staff and a crown, Promised dominion o’er every town. Not just for kings, but the cunning and bold, Who’d bargain their oaths for a handful of gold. You whisper of trades where the profit runs deep, Of hidden investments that never will sleep. Clauneck, Clauneck, open the vein of the earth, Pour out the wealth of unmeasured worth. Clauneck, Clauneck, treasurer of the pit, Turn barren ledgers to glittering writ. Clauneck, Clauneck, lord of the golden flood, Wash through the chains of my pauper’s blood. Infernal banker, if coin is your throne, Make this dry soil spit silver and stone. (Leader) Clauneck, take this poverty’s weight. (Chant) Treasurer infernal, rewrite my fate. (Leader) Clauneck, bless these empty hands. (Chant) Fill them with ore from infernal lands. (Leader) Clauneck, teach me the merchant’s art. (Chant) Turn loss into rivers from a beggar’s heart. (Leader) Leave only flow where the blockades stood. (Chant) Clauneck, Clauneck, make abundance my blood. Your monkey face grins through the smoke of the rite, Promising fortunes to those who see right. Not squeamish of oaths whispered under the moon, Nor shy of the bargains struck far past noon. If wealth is a demon they dare not invoke, Then call me a heretic glad to be broke. I’ll trade for your favor, this toad and this flame, For vaults that remember my poverty’s name. Clauneck, Clauneck, open the vein of the earth, Pour out the wealth of unmeasured worth. Clauneck, Clauneck, treasurer of the pit, Turn barren ledgers to glittering writ. Clauneck, Clauneck, lord of the golden flood, Wash through the chains of my pauper’s blood. Infernal banker, when the coffers run dry, Make hell’s own river flow golden nearby. Clauneck… Clauneck… Lord of the vaults where the lost riches sleep. If gold is the chain that they fear to desire, Let me burn prosperous in your monkey‑faced fire. Donations appreciated but not necessary: https://cash.app/$azaleajade9 ETH: 0xf711ce546e20bd237781bce42321dde37b86c5e3