The two armies, one of Boski's proud and hearty Greeks, another of vain and numerous levies of Pontus. The two armies marched towards each other, eager to give battle. The two armies almost passed each other, hidden in a raging sand storm.
But the sharp eyed scouts of the Greeks spotted the other army, and battle was soon joined.
The brave Grecian hoplites repulsed the Pontus levies, and the bows of the Cretans sung in the hot midday sun, as the battle raged among them.
The levies of Pontus grew afraid, and many turned to flee, their faces as white as their livers.
Those who did not turn their backs in fear spotted the Grecian peltasts, moving forward from the armoured host. "Let us charge them," they said, "so that we may regain the honour so easily discarded by our former comrades." So speaking, the remaining hosts of Pontus moved to attack the peltasts, and to spill their blood upon the dusty field.
But at the sight of such a large host, the Grecian, unarmed as they were, did not flinch. Instead, they met the levies of Pontus, javlien to spear, and engaged them in valiant combat. The levies, seeing the stout resolution in the eyes of their enemies, became disheartened, and turned to flee.
Yet the men of Thrace were waiting for them, and launched upon them with much glee, spilling their blood and hacking their limbs with the curved swords that they so enjoy.
And thus another army of Pontus was scattered, thrown upon the very winds.