Wind of Chaos

The Northmen head south

Like wolves on the fold.

Sunlight bathing their armour

In gold.

...

The shine of their swords,

Bloodlust running free.

Bringing destruction

To both land and sea.

...

Live leaves of a forest

No longer green.

Banners are held

In morning gleam.

...

Down from the north

A fel wind blows.

As the servants of Chaos,

Charge at their foes.

...

From archers' arrows

To cannon blast.

The Empire and Kislev

Will fight to the last.

...

The day draws on,

Yet it still feels chill.

The snow runs red

With the blood that's been spilled.

...

Day turns to dusk,

The southerners pale.

Their shields are dented,

They're short of chainmail.

...

Some fight together,

Others alone.

Their banners lowered,

Trumpets unblown.

...

But the cries of the north,

Give way to wails.

The invaders flee north,

On both feet and sails.

...

The defences are strong,

The southerners' might,

Has forced the invaders

To head north in flight.

...

So let it be known,

To the Chaos gods four.

The lands of the south,

Shall never fall.