This is a forced/voluntary project  Fierglief and myself might be doing, helping him flesh out Gilwal, his overbuff fox, a little with stories about him. This is mostly a continuation of  Wolf_Urameshi 's work, which I'll link. Might be something interesting to try in the long run.

Wolf's story: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/9693883/

And for those who can't be bothered to open the docx file, I'll post it here

With a cracking thud, a glass mug slammed down on the worn, smooth wood, polished from age and wear, a not so small hairline fracture raggedly running up the side of the empty mug as it was left among it's brothers. The collection appeared a little worse for the wear after serving their latest client, their massive, white fist still clenched around the empty and traumatized mug.

Said heavy hand led up a gigantic arm, muscle bulging out to almost obscene levels, fore arm covered in thick muscle, up further a bicep several times bigger than most people's heads straining under the blue furred skin. As if competing for biggest muscle, just a short trip up a mountainous shoulder there was near god like muscle, towering over their owners head by at least a foot, the traps being true mountains framing the green haired fox head nestled below and between them.

"GRISELA!' Boomed the voice from the fox, loud and heavy voice near rattling the old wood of the bar. "Could ya bring me more beer, I've barely wet my throat!"

The yell only brought a sigh from behind the counter, no one else around for fear of having their eardrums burst from the foxes roar. "Gilwal, that's your seventh, are you sure you'd want another?" Came a reply from a woman as they bent up, showing themselves. A well built body for a woman, large breasts nestled tightly in her corset, a grand catch for any man if it wasn't for her sharp expression, coupled with the scattered stains of blood mixed in with the alcohol giving fair warning to any drunken 'suitors' that she's not for sale.

"Of course, you think I'd be unable to hold my drink with this kind of body?" The fox unable to stop himself from pumping his arm slightly, the thick muscle bouncing quite powerfully. Grisela just sighed again, drawing a new pint from the tap and bringing it to the massive fox, seeming unfazed by the imposing sight. As she put it down she gazed at the collection of abused mugs standing there on the table, commenting, "If you keep drinking like you have for this last week, you'll run me out of glasses."

The fox gave no comment, just swiping the mug up and dumping the frothy contents down his muzzle, chugging it all down before wiping it clean with his thick arm. "Well of the dammed dog wouldn't keep me at a desk I might not need it!" He yelled, accenting it with another cracked mug on the table. "Only work out I get is when I'm sent down to the slammer to keep things in check... or remind them to keep it down." He growled, making a simple gesture for yet another mug.

The maid shook her head in disappointment and went behind the counter, getting another sturdy mug to be smashed by the brute and topping it off with more amber nectar, returning it to the overly pissed fox. "Not everyone trusts you around these parts still. Along with the ruckus you made a few weeks back, people need a little time off without you smashing things again."

Gilwal just grumbled and chugged his beer, somehow managing to not crack the glass when it came slamming down on the table. "I need something to pummel, ain't a dammed pencil pusher!" Grisela didn't say anything as she cleared a few of the glasses away, hoping to be able to recover some from their trauma. "That'd only scare the local folk, there's nothing worth letting you loose on around here right now. Plus you'd drive away my customers with your yelling, might think there's a dangerous dino roaming about." She replied after a while, sending a piercing glare over her shoulder as she returned to the counter, putting the glasses behind the counter for her to sort later.

"I might as well be, they're too weak to stand up against me!" Gilwal pumped both arms with the comment, showing off the biceps flexing above his head, and even rivaling his massive traps. Grisela shook her head at the display. "I've heard a few reports of bandits that could be relatively close from passerby, Lucky might show pity and let you go look at it."

"Don't be putting ideas in his head, Grisela. Don't need to be destroying the whole town. Again." Came a voice from the door, both the maid and fox turning to see a hound in the doorway, brown and grey fur covering the floppy chops along his muzzle, ears perkier and more pointed than what should be. The sheriff let himself in, black vest unadorned except for the badge shining on it, laser rifle holstered along the back.

"Oh, I didn't know you were dropping by Lucky!" Grisela said quickly, pulling one of the many empty seats out for the dog to sit himself in. "Didn't come for pleasure lassie, sorry. I want Gilwal." He said in return, turning to face the large fox. Gilwal just stared at the empty mug in his hand, seeming to hope that a deadly enough glare would make it magically refill with more for him to quaff. "What, you need me to calm more of the criminals? Or did they not learn the last time ya sent me."

Lucky shook his head. "No, not this time. Coincidentally it pertains to what the lass was talking about..." The foxes ears perked up, turning his focus on the hound, tail wagging slightly in plain sight. "I have been getting similar reports from townsfolk and travelers, bandits patrolling around a few old farmsteads outside of town. Oddly keeping their heads low, but you might have something to do with that." Lucky said, glancing over the hulking foxes frame for a second. "Either way, I want it investigated, and you have been itching to get out for a week. I don't need any inmates killed just yet, so you can go out and look for me."

Both didn't have much time to react before the blue thunder swept out of the bar and the roar of a massive bike sweeping off out of town. "Are you sure you should do that? He could cause more damage than help going out there." Grisela told the now somewhat worn looking hound standing alone in the empty bar, collecting the last of the cracked mugs on the table. "I needed them gone anyway, woman. causing too much damage on the roads, too organized to let be. Gilwal needs a punching bag, and a band of varmints seem like a good enough thing." Lucky replied, walking slowly out the double swinging doors, leaving the maid alone in the dusty room.

---

Feeling the wind ruffling though his fur, curving around the valleys and gorges made by his mountainous frame, made the fox feel alive again. Free from the dusty desk and piles of paperwork almost as big as he is.

Gilwal let himself get lost some in the passing landscape, watching the ancient, rusted wreckage scattered across the gently rolling plains, all that's from the various ages of war and destruction. Scattered between it all was small farmsteads, far and few between, abandoned long ago to rot in the heavy sun. Watching all of the desolate terrain passively helped calm him, several minutes passing as he drove over the cracked, aged pavement, colored stripes barely showing on the faded black gravel.

After a time, a black cloud caught his eye on the horizon to his left, making him stop to look at it better, squinting his eyes. "Is that..." Gilwal muttered, trailing off as his eyes grew wider at the realization of what it was. Kicking the heavy bike back to a stand, he revved the engine and took off the road, flooring it to the cloud. Broken wrecks flashed by in a blur as the vehicle sped over the broken terrain, husks of massive, hulking mechs, stripped of any useful or salvageable parts.

In short order he stopped, taking in the view in front of him. No more than a few hundred feet ahead was a homestead, fields neatly trimmed and kept, various vegetables and foodstuffs growing from the soil, with a home in the corner of the fields; one that was on fire.

Gilwal didn't waste any more time, ditching the motorcycle and dashing toward the burning building, thick legs pumping as they left small craters on impact with his haste. Within the minute he stood outside of the building, staring down the blazing inferno.

Gilwal's ears flicked, hearing a faint sound. "Is anyone home?" He boomed, straining to hear a response. "In... he... ut!" It was all he needed. With a roar echoing from his deep chest, he dug his claws deep into the fire weakened wall and pulled, colossal muscles bulging as he ripped a massive chunk of the wall out. He dove in, ignoring the scorching heat as he dug around the burnt out remains, avoiding the burning hunks of dry wood.

"Keep talking, I need to hear ya!" He yelled, throwing broken beams and furniture around as if they were twigs, listening for more replies. "Back here! ... closet!" Picking out where the voice was coming from, he put up his shoulder and barreled through the walls, cider and wood hardly resisting the mountain of a fox as he pushed through with ease, stopping in a bedroom. Glancing about, Gilwal noticed a closet, rushing toward it. He gripped the knob and wrenched it open, tearing it off its hinges with immense force. Behind it was a family of 'coons, a father covering over what seemed to be his wife and child to protect them.

Without a word Gilwal swept them up, holding them close to his wide chest as he ran out of the hole he made. He barreled through the now falling debris, his smashing destabilizing the building. Pushing through the fire and heat, he burst out into the vastly cooler air, the burning homestead collapsing a millisecond after his tail would've been caught, a shower of sparks flying through the air.

The fox panted as he rushed behind wreckage at the edges of the fields, putting the family down and slumping down to catch his breath. The small child huddled up next to their mother, who hugged them protectively against herself. The father stood between the hulking fox and his family.

"So what do you want scum? Want some of our food? Our land? Or our lives? Which do ya want, outlaw?" The coon said after a few seconds, Gilwal bent over catching his breath from the sudden act of ripping a house apart. "I just saw the house burning... *huff* thought I'd help... *huff*"

"Oh, so you thought you'd help, would you?" the coon said, pointing an accusing finger at Gilwal. "You outlaws are all the same! You walk in like you're some fucking cowboy hero, and we normal folk should shower you with praises! Well I don't care if that good for nothing cross breed hound dog made you deputy, no two faced marauder just saunters up and does something and expect our lives in return! I'm putting my foot down and asking you to get the hell outta here if you value your life!" the coon said, putting his singed, overall covered foot down in the dusty grass.

Gilwal sat for a few more seconds, catching his breath, great chest heaving with the mighty breaths. "Well? What are ya waiting for, outlaw? Get the fuck off my property!" A pointing, accusing finger pointed out the way Gilwal had come, out to the desolate plains. The fox didn't budge, despite the series of outbursts, finally catching his breath. "Why don't you just walk your freak self away-"

"Hun."

The coon turned to look at his wife, cradling the shaking ball of fur that was their child. "What, dear?" His wife stood up out of the dirt, keeping her kin tight against her dirty breast. "He saved our lives." He shook his head at her, saying, "So? He's an outlaw, they're all the sa-"

"He saved our lives." The father looked like he was going to reply, but the words died in his mouth, staring at the woman's stern expression looking right at him. After a second he sighed. "Dammit woman, you're gonna get us killed with that one day." He turned to Gilwal, towering above him, several times his height. "So what do you want, fox?"

"Who did this to you?" The coon blinked, a little off guard from the unexpected response. "What?" Gilwal got down on one knee so he was more relatively eye to eye, and repeated his question. "Who did all this?" The coon shifted from foot to foot, weighing his words. "It's a local bandit band. We pay them for protection with a portion of our crops, but we didn't pay the last time. So the lot of them came down from their cliff and decided we were a good target to ransack. They locked us up in the closet, to teach us our lesson." He shook his head, reliving the event in his head.

"So, where are they?" Gilwal asked, making the coon look up at the foxes massive, looming stature. "They're all out west a ways, sit on a ridge so they can shoot anyone who looks even the slightest bit bad from a mile away. Camp is huddled up against a rock wall, supposed to be some kind of escape point there if they ever needed it. Have to see for yourself." His glare got hard again, staring at the fox in front of himself. "Now if you'd kindly get off my property, I believe I've done all you've asked."

Gilwal got up without a word, nodding in thanks and turning away from the family, walking off to the large cycle waiting for him. Upon reaching the wreckage it was hastily parked behind, he risked a look back. All he saw was a family grieving for their lost lives, a father comforting his wife and her keeping her only child close, as if she'd lose them at any moment. He shook his head and turned away, getting on the heavy seat of the bike and kicking it on, the heavy growl turning into a roar as he turned to the west, speeding off to find himself a good time.

---

Gilwal squinted slightly, the sun glaring in his eyes through his sunglasses as he looked at the ridge off in the distance. He reached into a bag strapped onto the side of the motorcycle, rummaging around in its contents before pulling out an overlarge set of binoculars, taking off his sunglasses and putting them down on some wreckage, light filtering through the cracked hole in the right lens.

Putting the binoculars over his eyes, Gilwal took a look over the ridgeline ahead. It looked rather like what a ridge should look like, rocks scattered about, with a few teetering on the edge, a wonder why they haven't fallen into the scrub below. "Looks fine, but where are all ya little... aah." He said, chuckling as he saw a few metallic glints, obviously from overly lax snipers not bothering to cover their shiny things.

scanning along the like showed at least half a dozen of them, not counting any who had the smarts for actual concealment. A little more observation made some of the rocks look slightly suspicious, not laying at the right angle or seeming to be an off color. If they were even rocks. Looking beyond them, at the shelf behind the concealed camp. A sheer rock face, nearly featureless all across the board loomed well above them. "Damn, means I can't jsut jump into the fray..." He mumbled, slightly crestfallen that he couldn't show off.

Looking more, he thought he saw something catch his eye. Adjusting the focus, he spied large fissures running over a small portion of the wall, mostly concealed by the ridgeline it's self. Grinning, a plot started forming in the massive, demented foxes mind. Stowing the binoculars back in their sack, he remounted the motorcycle, fishing the sunglasses from their perch. Gunning the engine, he took off, a massive grin plastered on his face.

---

"Ya know, this sucks. All we get to do is rob passing wagon, nothing exciting! We haven't even used the dammed mech for crying out loud." A wolf grumbled, leaning against said mech, made of cobbled together scrap, rust showing all over its frame.

"Well, would you prefer to be put on trial, would ya? S'not like we've got a hard life here now. Enjoy it." A rough looking bunny said next to him, trying vainly to scrub some rust off the mech's giant foot. "Bah, the soft life this is. What we need is some action! Excitement!"

The bunny cut his partner off, holding up a finger. "You hear that?" He asked, his ears perking up and flopping around. "Maybe it's your pacifistic sense being murdered, eh?" The wolf shot back, laughing for a second before he abruptly stopped. "Wait, I hear something too... Sounds like digging?"

"Think the boss is expanding more?" The hare asked, putting his rust removal supplies away. "Nah, he would've made us go do the grunt work. I wonder what-"

With a shattering crash, the cliff face beside them exploded, rocks and boulders flying away, a cloud of dust spontaneously forming amidst the debris. "BADASS IN THE HOUSE!" came a bellow from the cloud of dust, a massive, shrouded figure emerging from the hole in the rock. "I didn't do it! I didn't steal anything to drink!" The wolf cried, scrabbling over himself to get away from his worst nightmare, the hare following suit.

What emerged from the cloud was Gilwal, rock dust clinging and settling into his fur as he looked around at where he was. It certainly was a hidden camp, several of the rocks being fake and actually being buildings, erected to look like just another rock on the cliff. Spying the mech, he got a glitter in his eye, walking over to it whistling a harmless tune. Getting up next to it he looked over the leg joint, whistling away as he gripped the leg firmly, other hand on the body as he tensed up his muscle and pulled, his arm bulging it's self nearly twice it's normal size form the strain, back adding to the efforts with it's flexing mass, chest getting a little close to his chin.

In a second a terrible screeching came from the hull as the metal ripped and separated, detaching it's self form the rest of the mech, falling over with a crash as it found its self on a single leg. Whistling a little ditty, he stabbed the exposed joint into a rock, the metal protesting loudly as it pierced the boulder, slinging the makeshift mace over his shoulder, walking leisurely into the camp proper.

The sight that met him sparked a smirk, the two he scared hysterically talking to a small collection of the bandits, all staring at him as he rounded the corner, dumbfounded. Reaching back and snapping out his sunglasses, Gilwal put them on and posed his gigantically muscled body in front of the awestruck crowd. "Burnt down a house, did you?" He growled, swinging the mech leg off his shoulder and onto the ground, cracking the dry earth on its impact. "Come on, you guys can do better than that. Why not, say... me." He said with a smirk.

More than a few pants got wet, seeing the giant throwing around a few ton of metal as if it was nothing, some turning and running for the hills. The others grabbed their rifles and set themselves up into a position to fire, fear making the barrels of them quake. "Well if that's how you want it..." Gilwal said simply, picking the mace back up, feeling it's heft for a second. Suddenly he rushed forward, his massive, thick legs lending him speed as he rushed toward the arrayed before him.

Their frantic gunfire was suddenly interrupted by a side swing form the mace, bowling over the front row, knocking over many with a few unlucky sobs catching the brunt of the blow, going flying out and over the ridge edge. Several more of the hapless bandits fall over themselves as they dropped their weapons and ran, the second row getting a similar treatment with a back swing, only finding no cliff edge waiting for them, just a sheer rock wall accepting their crushed bodies.

Most threw down their guns and ran, a few others being smarter and keeping their hands on their rifle, running for their lives. What little resistance before Gilwal crumbled with an overhead impact, blasting back the few who remained into unconsciousness from the shocking blow. Grinning devilishly, he advanced, swinging the abused mech leg up over his shoulder, continuing on into the camp.

After a very short walk, he spotted what was probably the leaders tent, being overly gaudy with stolen goods, plus being the only one that wasn't trash. Casually walking up toward the tent, a red fox head popped out from between the flaps. "What in the blazes is going on out... here..." He yelled, trailing off as his eyes latched onto the vastly bigger fox, eyes growing wide and ears flattening.

"Didn't know I had a brother in this camp. Here, why don't I greet ya properly?" Gilwall commented, quickly reaching down and grabbing the tiny fox in his grip, pulling him out of the tent as he grabbed hold of the flaps in a vain attempt to keep from being pulled away. Whimpering, the foxes grip on the leather was too weak as it slipped out of his fingers, leaving him at the mercy of the mountain before him.

"Now, why don't we play nice while I'm visting, alright?" Gilwal said, putting the foxes head just in front of his own, applying a crushing grip so get another whine out of his captive. Chucking, he put the mace down and reached in the back of his belt to get a radio, eyes never leaving the fur in his steel grip as he turned it on.

"Lucky, you there ya fleabag?" He said into the mouthpiece, the entire thing comically small in his hand. After a few seconds some static crackled out from the speaker, "Yea I'm here. What do you want?"

"Well, I've got someone you might wanna meet here. Been a bad boy. A very bad one, I must say." Gilwal commented, shaking the fox in his grip, resigned to his fate as being a squeeze toy for the colossal fox. "I'll be there if I knew where you are. Can't just magic up your location, boy." He chuckled. "It's west of the burning homestead, on a cliff. Can't really miss it."

"Alright, I'll be about in a few hours. Just play nice, you hear?" Gilwal gave his captive a sidelong glance, grinning ear to ear. "Oh don't worry, I can keep myself occupied..."

---

"And then he just whimpered like the coward he was, sitting in a corner as I glared at him. So I just had to start bench pressing the mech, the little shits reaction was priceless!" The blue fox guffawed, chugging a stein of beer in a second flat, setting it down a little more gently than usual in the table with a vast array of more.

"Sounds like you had a lil' fun, like you wanted." Grisela commented, drawing another beer from the tap and sliding it down the bar for Gilwal to just swig down. "You bet your ass it was." He said, another mug finding its self empty shortly after. "Least old sourpuss won't start beating at my door about beating inmates for a while now, haha!"

A cough interrupted his speech, making him turn around to see the 'sourpuss' hound behind him, glaring daggers at him. "Oh, hello there Lucky, would you want something to drink?" Grisela asked quickly, defusing the situation promptly. "Be nice to have, thanks." Lucky said, sitting down next to Gilwal as the maid poured him some whiskey in a shot glass.

"So Gilwal, I got some folks down at the station earlier today." The hound said, taking the whisky glass with a nod if thanks. Gilwall just looked at him expectantly, not sure what he's trying to get at. "Well," He started, taking a sip, "seems they're a family of coons out north, found themselves in a spot of trouble with bandits. Seems their homestead burnt down. Apparently some good soul came by and helped the folks out, pulled from their own burning home. Asked for some help getting the house back up and protection, and we'd get a large portion of their crops." He took another swig, draining the glass, promptly putting it down on the bar and getting off the stool.

"Just thought ya'd like to know. Seeing how you eat up most of our food, seems we'd easily break even with that farms usual numbers." He stopped and looked over his shoulder at the now rigid fox. "Just a reminder." He quipped, walking out of the saloon. "You mangy--" Gilwal started, a sudden thump in fornt of him making him jump, seeing Grisela with a full mug of beer for him, grin on her face. Gilwal growled, taking the mug and nursing it.