The legends and myths surrounding Lycanthropy have been around since before the actual Vikings landed in medieval England, and terrorized Lindisfarne, York, and a good part of the island kingdom.
It goes something like this: A regular person, and to make the myth even more terrifying, a really nice, laid back person, maybe even a person that’s a bit of a bumbling klutz, turns into a bloodthirsty werewolf when the moon is full, terrorizing the countryside with brutal murders. I never really believed in that legend until today, when a mild mannered and bumbling Vikings team turned into a bunch of werewolves at the halftime full moon, and pretty much ripped the Cleveland Browns to shreds.