I generally don’t write poems as a rule, but here’s one inspired by The Witcher:

In the mountains, thunder crashes.
On the track, the hunter collapses.
He was sent to slay a beast but is sure to die in the storm.
Yet the beast he seeks carries him to a cave so he can get warm.

Awakened by the beast drawing on the cave wall,
the hunter is frightened by a thing so tall.
He slays the beast but then is fleeced
when the old woman who requested its head
only pays half of what the wanted poster said.

The hunter accepts, but instead of embarking,
returns to examine the beast’s cave markings.
They tell a tale of a beast who was a farmer once,
cursed by a witch to become a beast every month.
The hunter returns to the witch, but not to ask for his due.

“I’ve come here, witch, because my next job is you.”