Chaos was the word to describe the Bernavoles camp. It was not an exaggeration, but the mere fact that the area they occupied were in flames. Most of them ran out from the site's perimeter, but the Chiangdas outside didn't spare them. Either a sword or a slash of the wind or water or anything the powers these Chiangdas had met and slain them.
However, these Platanna beings couldn't be trifled with either. They fought with all their might. It was just the sudden attacks cornered them inside. People covered their mouths while some were coughing hard as white and black smokes covered the camp, as if a fog descended.
Galdriel, with a shield, dashed right and left, avoiding the flames with one aim, getting to a certain burning tent. As he reached it, he stormed in without hesitation and dove to an orange light. There, about twenty men stood safe within that light.
"Where is the prince?" He asked Falteth, the one who owned the magical shield against fire.
