PRESUPPORTED BY ATLAS

Base: 25 mm

His face is hidden by his helmet. On the breastplate of his armor, covering his great torso, bulky as a barrel, a mask, a carved gargoyle, in an expression of scorn—or was it horror? — is the closest you'll see in him to a human expression.

He has two arms and two legs, but there the similarities with men stop. His size is beastly; his violence, wild. With heavy footsteps, whose impact resounds in the silence of the night, he approaches, bringing fear and the imminence of a hideous death. With his mace he crushes skulls and torsos; it crushes the bones, grinds the flesh, turning valiant and virtuous soldiers into a formless mass, stripping them not only of life but of all appearance of human beings. His victims are unrecognizable. It is not possible to distinguish an unfortunate man who has met him from an animal crushed by the wheels and trampled by an ox-drawn wagon. Slow but inexorable, he is like the collapse of a cliff: an invincible destructive force.