He sighed, and swore. "WARE, THEY BE UNDEAD. Diplomats, remain in the tent please."<br/><br/>He pulled out the revolver, and as cool as you please, he was picking off heads, the rushing targets making them much easier to hit, as they wouldn't dodge out of the way like a living person would. He was still kneeling, and paused his firing after the second shot to start tearing ragged ditches in the ground, hopefully causing the mobile corpses to tumble in and be unable to escape. The pits weren't very wide, nor very deep, but a bad fall would snap bones and make movement harder on them. He knew he was burning through energy like an fratboy through a keg, but was not terribly concerned about that issue yet. He would deal with it when it became an issue.