As I sat in my deep, dark dwelling, nestled in the farthest reaches of the dankest swamplands of the wretched English countryside. I heard the merrymaking of the men from Herot, and only become more enraged that I still sat there alone. I despised their loud and crude celebrations, only filling me with more hatred towards them. Finally, I could stand it no longer, one fateful night i decided to travel to their hall of happiness and punish their obnoxious behavior with their blood.
That night, as if by clockwork, their clamorous carousal began after the sun succumbed to the sway of the night's satellite. I could hear the rise and fall of the intoxicating glasses filled with the substance known as mead. Their fervor rose as drunk minstrels begin to play random drinking songs and the noise grew as more and more of the toddy beverage was consumed by the men I so despise. As the moon finished the first half of its journey across the night sky, I heard the men of the mead hall begin to fall into a drunken stupor as they slowly quieted down into a restful night of sleep to recoup from that night's drink. Little did they know that I was planning to take the life from thirty of their most able bodied men to repay them for the thirty lunar cycles that they had disturbed my rest. Thirty full cycles of the moon, months as I have heard them called in human tongue, they have disturbed my rest, but no more shall the men who inhabit Herot disturb my peaceful respite.
That night, I soundlessly slinked to the sturdy structure that was Herot. However, I did not come to destroy the building, but to make the loud men suffer, as they have made me suffer. As I approached the door to the hall, I heard a sound of a man's footsteps running, leaving no gaurd at the door. I stepped into the silent hall and with a great swipe of my claw took thirty men back with me to the cursed swamps, leaving a trail of blood and limbs.