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There was a ominous whistling.

There was a louder ominous whistling.

And then there would be a sickening pop, crunch and splurt, unless one of the Spartans got out of the way of the bowling ball that was currently hurtling through the air. Kchain, having grown bored of the necromancers follies, had made his way towards leaving Barton, when the wood seemed to shake and move. Look out, Macbeth. Upon spotting that there was a large group of people now marching towards him, presumably more zombies, he had looked at the ball in his hand, then at the zombies, then at the ball in his hand, and then back at the zombies. He realised what was necessary, and launched the thing at the Spartans.

In preparation for the ensuing battle, he stood up straight at his full height, cracking his shoulders and back in the process. The black material of his headscarf flailed in the wind, and was promptly tied and tucked back into place. With a sigh, he rearranged the material slightly, revealing his eyes, cool and collected, but hiding his mouth. Kchain checked all his armour, shoulder, knee and shin, all was intact and functioning.

With the slick sound of smooth metal against smooth metal, he withdrew his weapon from it's holster. A simple hanger sword, about five feet in length, with an extra eight inches for the handle. Obviously, it was sharpened and polished, ready for battle. It gleamed in the sunlight, as Kchain tried to bounce light in the Knights eyes.

Three hundred undead Spartans, and one ninja to stop them.

"Kage bunshin no jutsu!"

Suddenly, clones! Thousands of them!





Well, that's what Kchain hoped for anyway, but despite his best efforts, no clones arrived. Sigh. It was times like these when he wished that he had a chainsaw, rather than a sword. Irrelevancy aside, he waited, there was no way he was going to charge a whole squadron by himself.

Before.

Descant separated her thumbs and forefingers, breaking the Prophetas I. Pursed lips showed her distaste with the current going-ons she was able to see, though it's what she asked for... resistance. She hadn't expected one of the pets they actually "cared about" to go down. Moonblade would have to be resurrected.

Eyes focused on the here and now and her ears reminded her that her posse was sustaining the Symphony. Third movement, and it would stay as such. Heroes flocked to the arena, ignoring the fact that the streets around the tavern were flooded with people singing mindlessly. Which was fine with her, since more people meant a larger AoE which would affect even more people.

"Alright... alright." She stood up on her teen's shoulders and walked on the heads of some random citizens to get in the thick of the mob, where her largest man was. Squatting down, scratched his head and motioned forward. All at once, the streets were filled with a unified shuffling sound as bodies faced a single direction and stepped in time. The song was their cadence.

Now.

The Spartan army was joined... sort of. The aura of her group was filled with darkness, their voices ghostly and ethereal. Glazed eyes kept true the path as possessed feet propelled forward the Parade of the Damned, which sought to join the Spartans. Strength of numbers, right?

And standing on her muscular float, with a soundtrack of a fluctuating half thousand, a meat shield for her and the kuroko behind this mockery of a play, Descant's eyes of fire stared forward. Arms were down and at her side-- balance was maintained easily. Her voice, despite being solo, sang perfectly audible counter-melody to the chorus already sounding.

The Krewe of Hell was on its way and if you heard the herald's trumpet, you were already lost.

[(3/3 mvt3; 1/3 mvt1 for Kchain) (1/2)]

While the zombies had more than enough strength to react so quickly with their shields, they didn't have the mental capacity-- zombies 'n all. However, that wasn't necessary, as the butt end of the blade would simply smash against the Spartans helmet, causing it some distress but nothing really frightful; he didn't exactly -need- his head to function-- zombies 'n all.

Kchain wouldn't have a chance to land however, as from the second row behind that first unfortunate zombie, five spears would be thrusted forward, catching the man in the stomach and holding him mid-air, above his first 'victim'. It wasn't too hard for the Spartans to react to one man running and jumping, even if it was quicker than usual; even a zombie could grasp linear movement.

((Permission to head to the unattended eastern gate group granted by Darshendros.))



Around this time, a car matching this description would be making it's way through the eastern gate of Barton town. Though rather than a lone driver, there were two. As the car slowed to obey city driving limits, one might make out two bodies inside. One appeared to be packing heat in the passenger's seat, while a gauntleted man was the one behind the wheel.

By this point, the streets so close to the gate would probably have been deserted by people fleeing in terror, if the battle had spread this far. That, or they would be locked in their homes. Not running around screaming in the streets, so it wouldn't be that hazardous to drive through; at least, not yet.

"Sooo....." Rain said, slowing to a crawl and poking his head through the window to look around. "Any idea where we should be heading to, exactly? Did you get any directions to your 'Horde of the Living Dead', Mr. B?" This, of course, was directed towards his passenger: Joseph Brown, of A~E.

------------------------------------

Around this time, Rain recieved a psychic ping.



"Uh... I don't know yet, I just arrived. I'll give you a... uh... a buzz, once I know for certain."

... what, you expected him to know to only internally monologue his response?

Unfortunately...

...they weren't the only supernatural people around.

The spear aimed true, but as for him stopping mid-air? Nah, wasn't gonna happen. The spears went straight through him as if nothing were there at all. Only the faint sound of ripping fabric signalled that he wasn't a ghost. Grinning, Kchain removed all of the offending zombies heads with one swing.

The spears still through him, he grabbed one on either side and forced them through, angling them downwards as he did. The spears did their work, and went through two more of the front-line Spartans necks. Whilst he was at his belt level, he yanked two bottles off of it and threw them in the direction of the zombies to his left. They smashed upon contact, and suddenly burst into flames, apparently very reactive to oxygen.

Standing in the middle of an army was suicide, so he made a tactical retreat, for now. Sprinting the fastest he could away from them, his body seemed to start crumbling, the pieces falling into flames, creating a trail behind him, until eventually he was one fireball, which vanished.

The eastside looked like a warzone. The group that was attacking that part had been left unchecked for a long while, with the exception of a feeble attack by Griff, who seemed to have disappeared. Windows were smashed in and debris littered the streets, along with several dead bodies, some with their skulls cracked open. Fires were burning and there was screaming somewhere in the distance. It looked like Hell.

Up ahead was the wreckage of a helicopter - a helicopter that's normally atop the news station building. Zombies were crawling all over it. It looked like they were trying to get inside, or get to something inside.

"Are they watching the skies?"

Flying would be faster than walking, since it brought her into a direct line to the city. She supposed she could skirt around the city to the east side...might be safer than making herself an open target and flying straight over.

All this, Owle considered while packing her bags in the Firebrand.

"It'll take me a while to get there. And the idea is not only to heal the wounded, but to get them to safety. If I can."

She winced, not sure of her own capabilities. She wasn't strong...not strong enough to carry someone, anyway.



"I'll be careful," she said firmly. He wouldn't stop her from coming...because she was who she was, and this wasn't so much a choice as part of the very core of her being.