The smell of death sifts through my nostrils, filling my body with the upmost ease. As I walk through the field of ruined bodies, I cannot help but grin at the eternal horror etched upon their faces, the fears that followed them even into death. Though the battlefield offers far more death for me to behold and destruction for me to savor, I push on. As of now, Medusa sent me on an errand and I intend to finish it. Soon, I reach my destination: the shattered remains of the enemy's statue. Before it, thousands of weary souls kneel, trembling as they recited feeble, barely coherent prayers of hope. Such ignorant fools. There is no such thing as hope, especially when I'm through with them. As I get closer, their prayers of hope suddenly become whispers of terror, catching in their throats and crumbling to nihility. Turning, their eyes barely register the slender, bleached remains of my mortal form, and each utters a long wail of heart-wrending despair. Grinning, I raise my staff. As soon as I feel the spell escape my mouth, a black cloud of fear decends on the field, casting any shred of ridiculous, fanciful hopes into oblivion. From the darkness, an unholy evil emerges, swiftly gliding towards my victums. Soon, their shrieks of pain pierce the night, blackening the skies with fear. As they slowly writhe upon the floor, decomposing before my eyes, I allow myself a smile as I savor the slow shattering of their sanity, marvel at the flesh slowly melting off their bones, and laugh at their pleas for mercy. Slowly, these sounds slowly die, and a slow, barely-audible moan replace them. As I watch, the wrecked remains of my victims rise, each staring with eyes devoid of sight, treading the earth with legs that no longer feel, and uttering with mouths that no longer speak. With my mission complete, I lead them back to Medusa's castle, their continous mumblings echoing in my ears. Yes, my children. There is only chaos.