Work with your hands

20 minutes after General Luthor Stoneheart had met his end, Greyton was a flurry of activity. The air was still as hot as a midsummer's day, and humid enough that rain couldn't be far away. The land remained tinged with green throughout, and clouds boiled away, formed, and boiled away again ever faster, like the heartbeat of a sky growing ever more frantic.
The barricades covering the mine entrance had been broken open, so that those huddling inside could return to town for food and supplies. A crossbeam of wood has three nooses hanging from it, and Clariss (the Shield's resident forger and forgery-spotter) had painted "LOOTERS" on a large sign above the beam. Deputy Coulter and his men have spread out through the town, tempoarily bolstering thier numbers with mine foremen and anyone in a position of trusted authority, and the message seems to have been recieved.
The troops have (with Tabitha's blessing) broken ranks to head to their homes/tents to catch some rest.  The next wave isn't expected for several hours, and it's already been a long day for everyone in the Valley.
An hour after the battle, the field was filled with volunteers (mostly children) who were recovering arrows, weapons and scrap metal. A few with strong stomachs had been issued axes and cleavers, with the aim of dismembering the zombies, in a continuation of the Wardern's anti Asshole-Necromancer safety policies.
A few townsfolk with light spellcasting ability were hard at work casting mending, trying to fix the worst of the damage to the recovered longbows. In a tribute to Greyton's "work with your hands" approach, each skilled fletchers was able to restore five bows in the time one could be repaired with magic.
General Luthor's remains had been transported to the Salty Sabuton, where they sat in their largest stone cauldron which had been filled with lye. The whole thing bubbled ominiously, but it was all that they could do. Left unattended the now-liquid remains had begun to slither off of their own accord and threatened to melt anything that attempted to contain them. The lye-filled cauldron was hissing and spitting, but for now the remains were still, as the alkaline fluid kept them in check. Bo, the Sabutn's barkeep/alchemist had enough lye on hand to keep the pot topped up for perhaps another 12 hours, but hopefully another solution could be found before then. 
Two hours after the battle, the flurry of activity inside the town had calmed down, and some of the merchants began arriving at the staging ground bearing armfulls of their wares. Some donated freely, others came with reciepts that had "At Cost" written on them. This was well within the spirit of Greyton; practicality and kindness alloyed together to create fairness, and it wasn't worth going broke so that the assembled forces could have another half-dozen jars of preserved fruits. 
The more generous gifts came from the wealthier merchants; magic swords hidden under expensive silks, guilt and cowardice assuaged in one easy payment. Others gave because they wanted to be seen giving, and a minority even donated out of actual generosity. A gloriously fat halfling woman donated a large crate that turned out to be full of knitted scarves. The Salty Sabuton brought out several massive cauldrons of "stew", free to any carrying a weapon. A team of older men and women spent their time tearing cloth into bandages, and packing them into bags that also held sutures, coagulating agents, bottles of alcohol and foul-smelling tureens filled with anethetising jelly. A strange woman with the body of a snake caused some commotion, until it was clear that she was only there to drop of three dozen large cured hides that would see duty as light armor. "For the boysssssssss" she hissed before turning her wagon around and heading back north.
Four hours after the battle Crusher returned with Tabitha. They hadn't gotten a good look at the forces arrayed against them, the approaching force had a vanguard of Babau who's supernatural eyesight were being used as spotters for platoons of archers. Twice they were spotted and Crusher had to flee before he became a pincushion. They had seen the banners of old Tsar, although the first Righteous March was said to only be a thousand-strong, the force approaching was clearly much larger. Tabitha made the point that GDEC had found a few chambers filled with bodies in their search of Rappan Athuk; it was not surprising that necromancers had been able to bolster their number. They hadn't seen any humanoids, lending credence to the assumption that the actual number of living in Orcus's church remained small. They had seen some Babau, as well as ghouls, but hadn't managed to lay eyes on any commanders. They'd both reported hearing a strange sound: the creaking of bone under immense stress but had no idea as to its source.
Tabitha then took to inspecting the walls of Greyton, looking for any weak points. The ground was so thick in mud that she sank up to her knees, but the palisade remained firm. "Surely they'll split up, and hit us from the sides" offered Kurat, a young member of the Maxim. "They outnumber us, and can afford  to try and surround us". Tabitha shook her head. Without the necromantic powers of General Luthor, whomever was commanding the second wave would be lucky to simply march the undead to Greyton. Tactics beyond "walk", "charge" and "halt" were impossible to impress on such a large number of mindless horrors. The undead would take the easiest path, and try to overrun their defenses with sheer numbers.
Five hours after the battle, the Dominion banner is sighted coming down the Mosswood Highway. General Snooks Stoneheart and his men arrives on the field of his ancestor's recent defeat. They're tired and bloody but alive and in good spirits. The zombies and skeletons that boiled out out of the forest and charged Dejune were unorganized, and without a leader they were quickly seperated and destroyed. The Dejune soldiers were ushered into warehouses or quickly erected tents, and told to get a little shut-eye themselves.
The Burned Eel drew up to Greyton's docks, carrying the heavier of the army's supplies, along with a few soldiers too wounded to march, but too enthusiastic to be kept away. 
A wagon marked with the Ironclad Goods & Transport logo arrived from the west. On board were Uldman and Kendra Dark, who looked tired but determined. The wagon was loaded with what supplies Uldman could safely transport. When asked why he wasn't at the Ferry, he pulled a face. "Priests of Telephos are at the Ferry and are patrolling the road between it and Dejune. All they care about is their farms and crops, buggers wouldn't come and help. Still, they've taken care of any wounded in the Ferry, so we thought we'd try and be of some help. Uldman and his supplies were rushed over to where the medical kits were being assembled. Kendra carried her usual heavy crossbow, but was wearing thick black leather armor that carried distinctly military lines and a thick coat of dust. The unit patches had been torn off, but enough remained of a patch of silver thread to outline a symbol of a stag. When asked if she wanted to join a unit she just shook her head and climbed onto the roof above where her husband worked, and looked like she was not going to move from that spot.
At Garth's request, a dozen members of the Dejune Watch (minus thier captain) had joined the march to Greyton, and were used to further bolster the Shields to help keep the peace. The Watchmen told of the situation in Dejune; people hiding in their houses, many who'd fled to Dejune to avoid exactly this sort of thing. Those willing to fight patrolled the edges of the town, trying to spot any lingering threats. A mop up crew, lead by Captain Shylhenyssae patrolled the town, ready to descend on any ghoul or imp stupid enough to show it's face. Joined by Shawarma the slug man, Priest Gabriel, Jones Xu, and several adventurers, they made a formidable unit. Hengsha's runners and the Banshees patrol the forest, cleaning up the undead that lagged behind the main force.
7 hours after the battle (not long after 5 in the morning) the troops were woken, and formed up into ranks, standing or sitting in the mud. Food was passed around, and while the only drink offered was water, there was more than the occasional flash of a hip-flask. The civilians retreated to the mines and warehouses, and barricades were re-installed.
As dawn approached the temperature began to plummet, and clouds formed in the sky above. These clouds were not the dark grey, flat things from before. The clouds grew into long, thin tendrils, starting over the ocean and moving inland. It was no simple trick of the imagination either, the clouds clearly formed the shapes of tentacles, mouths and eyeballs as whatever perversion had lead to the demons running free and the dead rising began to twist the sky itself. 
Finally, it began to rain. The drops were warm and distressingly sticky, at odds with the rapidly-cooling weather. Tabitha caught a few drops in her hand, and poked at the unusual liquid thoughtfully. "It's like spit" offered Crusher, and she nodded. The sky itself had begun to salivate in anticipation of the coming battle.