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Disgraceful! There should be a law aginst the likes of you. You bring shame on this 'ere vill. I'll cut it for you... no charge.

Father Jim! You were asking me where the silver from the church had gone... now we know. it was the carter. You're the sheriff... and I wouldn;t presume to tell you your job... but lock hm up and throw away the key.

You want me out of the way carter so that you can kill more innocents. But I'll take my axe to your neck afore I die... then you'll know a headache. Hah!

 

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Daz was not revived by the Witch. 14 Villagers remain.

 

Funnily enough, Oi had the strangest dream last night.
You did that very thing.
And it weren't over jealousy of my cut price bargains.

It were to keep the secret...

 

Now now, 'ow's that a way to speak of someone with the presence of mind and community spirit to stockpile exotic weapons at a time of danger?

They's all safe down me lock-up under the arches.
Nowt's been stolen, it's just been temp'rarily re-assigned for the public good.

Everythin' will be returned when we've reppelled these fiends, minus expenses and a small handling charge of course.

But oi'll tell you this for free - Oi'd sleep sounder locked in the cells (or the vestry) than out here in my cabin-on-wheels that oi 'aven't thought of a name for yet.

 

I am but a simples Farmer, but Maria the Fisherwoman be selling my turnip patrons 'er fishes. Dey 'arnt eating my 'olsom roots anymore. Be rid, I say.

 

Glad to see oi'm not the only one keeping an astute commercial 'ed on me shoulders in times of panic.

 

Not the traveller?
It's not like there's anyfin mysterious about her, is it?
Oh, wait...

But of course you needs to remember that we had killin's loik this aaall the toim before she showed up.
Didn't we?

 

As much as I am loathe to become embroiled in the madness of you superstitious oafs, it's quite clear that something sinister is indeed going on. While I'm not convinced that we're talking about something supernatural, it's undeniable that this all started to happen around the time that Arro the traveller appeared in our midst. And so I reluctantly vote for them...

 

Thinithter? My word itth thinithter. The traveller told me on the was to the thervice thee heard thnarling and thnapping thoundth coming from the direction of the woodcutters houth. I know the woodcutter owns no hound and has thtill not delivered the wood ath promithed.


I think I'll need a thtiff drink or three at Groobys to get me through tonight.

 

Ya will will ye? Tek yer axe to his neck whilst all around we're a'ready assulted by beasts. Does you not need the full moon a now to feel the lust for the red stuff, is it seeping in to yer mind even thru the day?

Looking to tek one of our own in a time like this, I'll not be taking any more wood from your likes, the cart said he 'ad an old knackered wagon that'll fill in for the shafts we need. My vote is for Woodchopper Giddy, I no likes his thoughts.

The forge'll be burning bright tonight if ye seek warmth after the barkeep closes up, plenty'o weapons and a stoutly locked door'll keep em at bay. And thank ye father Jim for yer blessings on the tools, the silver seems to shine jus a lil' more brightly in the firelight.

 

Having spent a night out under the stars again last night, I saw neither hide nor hair of these beasties. Nevertheless, I can't ignore the evidence of that young child so horribly maimed - and feel that Daz the cobbler has deceived you. I votes for him to be hung up by the neck - I still trusts him not.

 

You'll have to forgive Mac, father.
'E were heavily refreshed last noit, to be fair.

 

Forgive me. I spent most of the evening polishing off a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and am not myself this morning. Actually, let me rephrase that, lest some of you decide to read more into it than there actually is. I am 100% myself this morning - but slightly the worse for wear.

Since I have never 'gone with the flow' in the past, but am starting to worry somewhat with the current goings-on around here, let me say that I have never trusted strangers. Arro The Traveller has been suspiciously quiet in all of this - lynch her!

 

I try my best to help this vill,
Through good times and through bad,
When others seek to do me ill,
It makes me really sad.

I've been 'the chop' for 50 year,
A cutting up your logs,
Then comes a carter, so we hear,
A mean spirited, lowly, slob.

Take your money,
So he would,
Without a second thought.
His words of honey,
laced with blood,
Your purchase, worthless... nought.

Spare a thought for me,
My friends.
I beg you, yes... I plea.
Don't make this day become my end,
Make it him, not me.

 

Singin' again, is it?

Worl, that's aaall luverly, but what these good people need now is a reliable supply o' exotic weapons.
That an' cut proice trans-pertation.

More an' more of moi dream be comming back to me, axe-jacker - and oi swears you needed a shave in it...

 

Oo you tellin ta Bog off?? I baint done nowt ta upset nay one i aint. Ok so i nicked some straw frm farmers. But moi bits been well chewed and needed replacin.
As fer a stranger in town, i aint seen noone latley fittin dat descripon. youse all looks familiar ta me.