The war took place in a gigantic plain surrounded by mountains; a freezing wind swept the battle field covered by snow, covering bit by bit the dead bodies that were lying on the ground. Apparently countless generations had fought in this place.The war cries and the screams that resounded against the mountains flanks was a sign of a confrontation of an incomparable violence. The two armies that were spread to loss of eye were fighting on the plain infested with dead bodies.
A few valleys were emerging on the fighting place, from where new fighters came in big number. Chamma, who took the head of hundreds of men, was coming down of one of these valleys. While emerging on the plain, he blew the horn and ran against the enemy in a war cry. Simultaneously, other horns blew and thousands were running down of all valley. Chamma and his horde of warrior ran towards the center of the fight, sank in the battle and sliced through the flesh.
The enemy's dreadful cries The warriors moans Blades knocking Shields breaking Arrows gushing out Bones are crushed Flesh cut out And blood splashed, transforming the white snow into a bright red.
Blood of human and unhuman creatures of a fearsome power was leaking on his sword and arms. Cold and tiredness didn't affect Chamma who entirely gave himself to the power given by his King. The power that lived in him gave him the strength to hold his weapon bravely and to continue the mission that was given to him.