I imagine the shifting scales, dusty and heavy in the dark of a cave, uncoiling slowly, sunlight from some lost crevice adding enough illumination to reveal a bulky mass in the pitch night of the cavern. Now and again there is a dull glint off of hard scales; an irritable snapping jaw as one of the beast's many heads wakes another. Aegean soldiers, quiet save for the light creak of leather and the whisper of sandals on sand, steal into the lair, weapons drawn, shields ready, eyes searching the darkest corners for movement.
A soft breeze and the Aegeans are betrayed. Like lightning unleashed from the wrathful Lord of Olympus himself, reptilian heads erupt from the dark, quick, deadly, bringing death to the unlucky and the unwary.