Greyton Stands

Day 359, 1789E, 9pm (3 and a half hours after sunset, and 30 minutes after the death of Jerimiah Gudmund)
Greyton is a flurry of activity. Something is going down; people aren't sure what or when but they sure as fuck aren't going to face this in their pyjamas. A few minutes ago, Mortimer's pet talking horse climbed up onto the roof of a warehouse (via a hastily constructed ramp) and gave a speech (via a hastily cast volume-increasing spell).
Rumor and truth made the rounds, with truth eking out a narrow victory on the third lap, after rumor was disqualified for being "bloody stupid". Apparently an "army of foulness approaches", although the horse didn't know what that meant. Most people are willing to forgive that, as horses are not famed for their ability to clarify vague warnings, among other things. That undead would feature prominently was met with general agreement.
That left two clear options to the Gretonites: Fight or flight. Flight looked pretty great. North across the bridge to make a moonlit-run for Tarren's junction held some appeal, but presented its own dangers. Heading down into the quarry and barricading the entrances was a clear winner - the lay of the land meant it would be very unlikely that an approaching army would be able to get to the quarry without first passing through Greyton, but it did mean leaving the safety of the palisade wall. For those too sick, wounded or precious to do such a thing, hiding within the foundations of the castle was a solid option.
Although there were than a few cries of "coward" toward those seeking refuge, it's not clear whether that's fair. In a world of champions and gods and monsters, an average joe wielding a pickaxe (possibly wearing that ugly leather jacket his grandma had made him) was little more than a delicious speedhump to a ghoul.
The Greyton Shields were quick to form up, as Captain Garth and Deputy Coulter split them in half. Garth's unit would move to the walls, and do what they could while they could. Coulter's unit comprised of the more fragile members, and would accompany those retreating to keep order and make sure everyone evacuated safely.
Mortimer's Maxim (Along with B1 and B2) formed up along with Garth's unit to form a reasonable front line; 28 Shields, 13 Hobgoblins, B1 and B2, with Marrin in charge. Guardsman Marrin's face has the angry look of a soldier who'd tried to get away from war, and having failed, was going to take out his frustration on the first enemy who was stupid enough to show its face.
Apropos to their name, the Ardent formed up behind them.
Mortimer's Fist numbered 14, and is captained by Mister Salvador. In a world that lacked the position "English boarding School Head Gym Teacher", Mister Salvador had turned his attention to the only other profession where 'making people run laps until they passed out' was considered socially acceptable.
Bu's 7th Medics was barely a unit, only an Aberdeenian man named Bu and 3 clerics-in-training who spent most of their says nursing the frailer members of the Fist back to health. Nevertheless, the quartet made a showing, hoping to make up in discipline what they lacked in numbers. They had their numbers bolstered by the 5 members of Tabitha's Divine, Mistress-of-Blades Tabitha's personal unit. They were captained by the young Dalish woman Lelehia (Lell-lee-hah). She had been a housewife before the fall of Tsuen, but apparently seeing an imp kill your husband, then subsequently beating that imp to death with your great-grandmother's heirloom silver water jug can change a woman.
Crusher had formed up his own unit; the 11th Hellhounds. The titular 11 hellhounds were limited by their species' half-serving of brains, but months of tutelage under Tabitha meant they would follow orders to the letter. With them were the 7 smallest members of the ardent, that would one day be jockeys (when the hounds were big enough to support them), but for now spent their time trying to bond with the firey pups. The riders-to-be looked impressive at least, covered head-to-toe in leather armour, slathered in a foul-smelling alchemist's goop that meant the occasional puppy-breath-misfire didn't instantly cook them. 
The 2nd Marauders and 4th Outriders were currently out past Tai-Yong, and it would take them days to return. While the other units formed up, there was talk among the miners, shopkeepers, masons and builders. No one really, truly wanted to die, or were so loyal that they would take up sword unquestionably (those who did had long-since joined the Ardent). Neither did they want to flee; the horse had a point, this was their home after all, and for most of them it was all they had. Crusher had a big pile of clubs and picks dumped in front of the crowd, in a less-than-subtle manner.
The first person to make a move was the tiefling "Jaq" Jaqueline, the masonry foreman. She was wearing her plated-leather armor (customised for her devilish anatomy), and weilding her standard-issue Glodsson-Heavy-Industries warpick. She was also crying uncontrollably. Angrily, she pulled herself up to the top of the palisade wall.
"The fuck do you want?" She screamed into the darkness. "I'm happy here, you useless vomiting assmaggots. This is my home! Why can't you let me have that? You take one step past this wall, one fucking step and I will end you. I WILL FUCKING END YOU"
There was a lot of nervous glances and awkward coughs from the miners, as there normally are when one sees one's boss get a bit emotional. A young human man spoke. "You heard the boss lads. And the horse. We should probably, youknow" and he gestured towards the pile of weapons
"Right enough"
"Sounds reasonable to me"
"Don't want to explain to Miss Tabitha why we didn't listen to the horse"
If anyone was counting (and Crusher was), 239 miners picked up a club or a pick, and formed themselves up in a rough group. 24 others slunk away, only to return a few minutes later with a sword or spear of nicer make, and formed up their own unit, with murmurs like:
"Had this kinda laying around."
"I bought this magic spear, like, 5 years ago. Never got around to selling it"
"This was me dad's sword, but uh, I did train in Ferrik's Forge. For five years"
Inside the walls of Greyton, nearly 300 people stood armed, waiting for what would come next.