At the sound of the charging stormwing pony, the five undead archers turned towards the source of the noise. Despite having the advantage of numbers, the element of surprise had clearly tilted the 'battle' in Comet Trail's favor. The fact that all five of them were wielding ranged weapons of somewhat decayed quality in melee range against a foe that was much better equipped and trained for melee combat only hastened their demise, their sluggish attempts to fight back amounting to nothing as they were cut down in quick succession. 

The Stormwing solder would find a few seconds of peace before the cloudy water of the lake would churn and shift as more of the restless dead of Ponyville rose from their watery grave. There were six of them this time, with only two of them wielding the water damaged bows of their earlier counterparts. Of the remaining four, two of them seemed to be carrying knives that had quite clearly been completely over come with rust over the years. A third also wielded a knife, but its knife was carried in its mouth, more or less fused to the exposed bones of its wielder by the rust that had consumed the iron. The last walking corpse didn't so much walk as hobble along, it's front right leg missing for reasons unknown, a rotting and rust covered farmers hoe held between its neck and the shoulder of the remaining leg. 

All six of them focused on Comet Trail with an eyeless glare, the smiles they bore as they exited the water vanishing into snarls as they discovered one of the Celestia damned winged monsters who had played a role in the deaths of themselves and their beloved town. Vengeance would be had! 

They surged forwards.

..................................................................................

The two undead turned towards the sound of the water rippling for barely a moment in order to see what had caused the disturbance before returning to their task of priming their bows for battle. They had more important things to focus on at the moment then to question the noise to deeply.

.................................................................................

Torrential held the black gaze of the jester mare before him, his body tense enough to respond to any sudden tricks that the creature could pull as the sky darkened with clouds. The giggling ghosts that swarmed overhead seemed to keep to themselves for the time being, waiting for their mistress to ask them to join the battle that was clearly about to take place. Still, when Torrential spoke his words were loud and clear enough to be heard over the giggling din. 

"Who are you?"

"[b]I am known by many names. Many ponies would call me the Laughing Mare.[/b]" The mare answered with a grin and a mareish giggle, as if she had just been told a side splitting joke that amused her to no end. "[b] However, you can call me your DEATH![/b] As if given their cue, the ghosts suddenly went from being an amused audience to a violent mob rushing the stage with full intent of taking a bite out of some of the actors on it, swarming towards the unmoving Torrential like an enrage cloud of wasps. The mare herself however didn't watch as her minions moved to attack, her attention turning towards her suddenly very twitchy tail. Taking a moment to reach up and pull the collar of her outfit out a little, she reached in with her free hoof and started to look around for something...

Torrential stood absolutely still, his eyes focused on the so called 'Laughing Mare' as the surge of her ghosts rushed towards him. The lead ghost, overjoyed at the idea of getting its choice of where to bite first, was within a hairs width away from tasting alicorn flesh when something hard and sharp slammed into it from above and drove it into the still glowing water around the alicorn. This was only the first of many such blows as hail the size of a full grown stallions leg and as sharp as a well cared for sword rained down upon the lake, spearing and destroying ghosts by the droves with each passing second as they either tried to keep up the attack or attempted to dodge the icy onslaught in vain. 

By the time the hail subsided the only two things left standing on the surface of the lake was Torrential Waters and the Laughing Mare herself, standing under what appeared to be a pink and purple poky dotted beach umbrella that now housed a number of shards of razor sharp ice. Casting the now useless umbrella away as the rain started to fall proper, the Mare seemed to frown. "[b] That beach umbrella only had two days till retirement. He was planning on retiring with his wife to a small but homely umbrella stand in the country and raise a family together. I hope you're happy, you big meanie![/b]"