Meeting a Hulk
(This an excerpt from a book written on Tessera: Never Again: The Rise and Fall of the Graven Hulks by Maxime Eifell.)
See also: Bloodstones, Graven Hulks
My unease deepened as Baron Foucault's manner became both more exuberant and yet somehow furtive, like a squirming schoolboy with naughty secret. At his insistence, I accompanied his lordship out onto the balcony. The humours of the day remained pleasantly mild. The mighty red eye of the Sovereign was just at his zenith, while the lesser golden disc of the Tinker was not far behind. A light, steady breeze played over the upper branches in the vast grove surrounding his lordship's manor house and workshop.
With a start I realized that it was not a zephyr's breath that moved the leaves, but rather that something gargantuan was coming through the woods. The sound of bending and breaking boughs grew louder. I perceived a staccato vibration through my boots, as one might feel when a battalion is marching past or a heavy millstone is turning.
There emerged from the treeline a man of unreal size and nature. He was principally composed of stone, like a statue, but of a height and girth unrivaled in my experience. Though we stood on a third-floor balcony, the man topped at least twice that height. He was carved with the appearance of wearing heavy armor. Every granite length and facet was deeply etched with arcane symbols, and each symbol was sunk with glinting metal I took to be bronze or brass. His muscles and joints were evidently composed of living wood, interwoven beneath the rocky exterior. This piney flesh flexed freely as he moved, and each seam exposed a profusion of dark-green leaves and crimson-black flowers.
He carried a stupendous shield of matching engraved stone and a proportionally-large sword of sharp steel. As the man moved towards the house, his arm swung back and forth with each step, and the colossal blade gleamed blood-red with the Sovereign's light. The metal itself seemed to grow bright and flush with that celestial power.
The man of stone came to a halt on the lawn, and I beheld that his metal eyes glowed with that same carnal, vermillion hue. The monster's gaze were blank, with no pupils to betray the object of his current attention. Yet I felt a palpable sense of intention behind that stolid mask and it was wholly unkind.
The baron gestured proudly and energetically to the living statue. His voice effused triumph. "This, Mr. Eifell, is the first of many. Together, my sons and daughters will end the war!"
