A werewolf, more a monster than a man, A shade who tries to hide a shadowed past, A gorgon, cursed to frighten all she can, A dryad, far from home and fading fast. Four monsters met on distant, misty moors; Were promised, by a king with crown of bones They'd each receive what each one most adores, If they could just retrieve three sacred stones. An offer took, by team beset by need; A trip through peril, onto sacred ground; A final fight, with foe they ought to heed. A lethal blow! Prize won, they turn around, Return and earn gifts fit to save their souls — Then realise why the doomsday thunder rolls.