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A quart if your best please barkeep. How's your better half by the way? Keeping well?

I've seen nor heard sight nor sound of our wandering minstrel. I trust he's behaving himself. I think you're right to be wary of him, friend.

 

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Eets gerrin dark now. Oh wait moi eye are shut. Oi'll jes open em up. No wait tis still dark. anyone gorra loight?

I tell yas i seen dat shifty bloke wots buries the dead, walkin round the graveyard tuver night. he was rubbin is ands and sayin tasty to 'imself. And dat dere fisherwoman, notice ow she got long teeth? Dont catch many fish though do she?

Hey bar keep! can oi gets a tank of coider to keep me warm at noight? its gerrin chilly out yere.

 

Now fifteen souls have appeared,
some disdained and others revered.
After five more souls,
you shall all know your roles,
some mundane, and others quite weird.

A few nasty werewolves to fear,
a hunter, a witch, and a seer,
a matchmaker who
will bind lovers two,
and the others will simply drink beer.

 

I tell you, the thervith here tonight ith juth terrible. I've been thanding here for tho long and thtill no beer. No wonder, I thee the town drunk ith here tonight, again.

 

I see you're keeping the scratchings to yourself again... friend.

Old Mac's in you say? I thought there was an 'air' about the place tonight.

Did I tell you what I saw earlier? No? Well... oh, no. I'll tell you later. Shocking, truly shocking. But I'm not one to gossip, mind.

 

I'll take a pint of grog barkeeper, and one for yourself.

 

Did you see Master Nugget, it's a full moon tonight? I have a feeling, and I don't think it's just the taste of the beer or the cologne from our fisherfriends, that you and I may see a fair bit of business coming our way over the next few days.

Now, where is that barkeep? Deary me!

 

I'm not on to thpread gothip or rumerth, but I do like to thtay inthide thith time of the month.

 

Oi loikes to stay out doooers dis time o year. It may be chilly but the moons bright, Seems i'm not the only one too. You see some strange things at noight.

When the moons full theres a howling on the wind and a mood in teh air. Beware, unless ya has hair!

Heheh left foot right foot, left foot right foot.

 

Good old Twiz! Don't forget 'Breathe in, Breathe out'.

 

Thank you good thur, itth about time.

 

Barkeep! - barkeep? More ale!

Whatsh that? What do you mean I've had enough? Oi! Unhand me at onshe you curs! At onshe, you hear? Closing time? Now you wouldn't throw one of your besht (and mosht frequent) cushtomers (hic) out in the shtreet on an evil-looking night like thish, would you?

 

It's cold and dank here in Bosonville... the wind has dropped and all is eerily calm. The birds sleep still, as do my fellow villagers I see.

T'was a good night had by all last night at Master Gooby's 'palace'. Old Mac in his cups, Twiz acting the idiot, Barkeep knocking a few heads together for sport... but not a sign of our minstrel friend. Funny that. Not a sighting of dear old Father Jim either, and lordy knows he likes his ale, does the Father!

'Delila' is full sharpened... just in case mind. You can never be too careful nowadays.

Time for me to head into the woods and ply my trade, I think.

 

Keep your voice down! Can you not tell they're fast asleep in their cots? 'sides, you're too late. The beer was drunk to the bottom of the barrel (blame old Mac) the night just gone. Barkeep will need to work hard to get some pret for the coming night.

Anyways, good mornin' to you. I'm off to swing my axe.

 

Never fear, your minstrel is here!

Whilst your rabble drank until they could drink no more, i took it upon myself to investigate the rumors that plague our beating hearts. I travelled to the sleepy town of Caninton, up by Swanon's Nidge; a place i have visted often in my days, a warm, gentle village, where old Clayton's wife Ethel crafts the finest pork pies this side of Basilforth! Whispers had filtered through to me like blossom on a stream of nefarious goings on. And last night, what a sight i did behold:

Shrill cries from the ladyfolk folk alerted me to a mob of men, frothing at the mouth with rage much like rabid dogs. They held their pitchforks high, as they dragged a young girl through the streets, proclaiming her to be a 'beast', 'a monster' and 'something most unnatural!'
Keeping my distance from the frenzied hoi polloi, i followed them to 'Old Sturdy', the ancient oak of the village. From its' twisted and gnarled branches , much to my horror, were strewn a dozen of their townsfolk; swaying gently in the night breeze from the noose which encircled their throats.
I began to protest, but before words could usher themselves from my person, Sheriff Witicker interjected and explained-
... a presence had descended on the village, primal and blood-thirsty. It had killed men, women and children alike in the night, leaving nought but a pile of unfinished gore in it's wake. Their town seer, Jacob, had declared that they were being invaded by things from the dark, which could take on the guise of men and walk amongst their people by day, only to betray them at night! The townsfolk had made the only decision they could: to accuse one another by day and subsequently hang one of their kin at dusk in a vain hope that they would be banishing another beast to the abyss.
And thus, as i watched the life drain from the young girl, barely into her teenage years, a silence spread through the crowd. No change occured, no contorted writhings of some demonic possessor escaping the mortal shell- they had again condemned one of their own. They turned back to their homes, tired, weary and worn, knowing that amongst them still remained an evil most frightful.

The sheriff wished me well, with the forlorn look of a man who knew that his end was in sight, and i returned this very morning.

So my fellow men and women, although we have not had any cause for concern, be vigilant- this presence is on our doorstep, at our windows, creeping up to our back door, and we must be prepared for the worst. I know that i am not one of you, coming from an educated background with a learned tongue, but with the months i have spent in Bosonville i have come to call it home. I hope that we can survive this test, less God have mercy on us all.

 

Yeah, hurry up.
As long as there's one or the other, I'm sorted.

 

Wouldnt dat be sheeps not shepard fer ya? ME i'm happy to sit on me ands till dey goes all funny like.

And ere! Oi wasn actin a eejit, oi dunno ow to act! Ow me poor eads sore now afer all dat coider. and god those fleas are itchin me....

 

Thatth jutht perverth.