Banshee 

O accursed and wicked day! How long have I walked in pain and torment? Centuries cursed to suffer the deaths of the last of my kings. Rain sweeps across the rolling hills like the tears streaming down the deep wrinkles of my face. Let my screams echo over all of Ireland for mortal and faerie alike. Yet another descendant of the royal blood departs this mortal coil! I howl my rage and pain into the night, the herald of the wild hunt this night, I will witness my king ride this night alongside the aos si in all their unearthly glory. Let my shrieks pierce the hearts and chill the souls of all those in Ireland this night for another of their kings is dying this night as all the royal blood of the Tuatha De Danaan before him. As I near the hearth of O’Brein I can see his kin surrounding this deathbed. O wicked, wicked eternity! My arms outstretched like claws to the sky as my misery and woe depart my body in a rageful howl. Like the cries of a newborn babe torn from its mother's breast, like a beast caught in a hunters trap. This is my curse, this is my fate. As long as there remains the blood of kings in Ireland I, the Banshee will morn, and scream my pain across the land.