I’m a gunner,
The standard demands my service,
A red banner expects the same crimson in payment,
Ram and sponge and shot,
Me and my crew,
We are demons this day,
Preparing the very mouth of hell,
A grand battery of the kings fire,
The thunder at our command,
Iron swelling with brimstone,
Those before us see it as judgement,
What once was a rural spectacle before us,
Is now a depiction of Gehenna,
I care not,
So long as the pieces keep singing,
And those roses sprout on the horizon.
Ifrit,
Fire given form,
Smoke and ash given intent,
Among the jinn he resides,
Among creatures of the hereafter,
Upon a searing wind of flame,
He comes to Mundus,
With broiling malice in his eyes,
Emanations of foul determination,
Ifrit,
He comes to spread misfortune,
His bestial form is scalding in its barbarism,
Horns and scorched auburn fur,
He comes to bring about an encompassing scorched earth,
But there is a defence,
Go to your Imam,
Chant your Du’a,
Chant if you hope to douse the fire,
To defeat him,
To defeat Ifrit.
WorldofHarley 