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Alas and alas, this is no good at all.
We're all going to die, mark my words.
There are werewolves amongst us,
and they will kill kill kill!
We are doomed.
All right, I've given me little speech for the sakes of this play which is apparently the thing, so now I'd have ye all pay attention for a might bit. I've silver, you see, and silver's a good thing when it comes to werewolves, see, as good or better than it is for making the ladies look pretty, you see, and I've got a fair bit of it for it's my trade. Now: I've made knives of it, a pretty little collection. Each of ye should purchase a nice silvery knife from me so as to make sure that who ever is our hunter winds up with a silvery knife. And if every last one of us has one, maybe one as is a werewolf will have bad luck and sit no its own silver knife and thereby do itself in.
Now, I hear tell that there's a seer or two in this here village, and that they can't be trusted. One of 'em's right all the time, the other's wrong more than half the time and we've no way of telling until one of 'em's dead, and that's not a good thing. But see, the werewolves aren't all pretty minded about this neither, 'cause they know that there's two seers, one true and one false, and the longer they both stays hidden, why the worse for them! Because that gives the true seer lots of time to gather facts, and who knows maybe we'll be lucky and the false seer will be found out in some way, though me fears the most likely is to get lynched or mauled, more's the pity. Well, that's all I'm saying for now. If some of you folk have wisdom to add, all the better.
Still, we're doomed unless we use our noggins and pay close attention to likely signs of lycanthropy.
Oh! The knives are five gold coins a piece.
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