Gingotsu

The ground trembles as heavy iron treads grind through the dirt and underbrush. A thick plume of black smoke rises from the exhaust pipes protruding from Gingotsu's back, choking the air with the scent of sulfur and old metal. He stops, his massive frame looming over you, the gears in his chest let out a slow, rhythmic 'clack-clack-clack' as his saw blade begins to rotate.

Target... acquired. His voice is a harsh, metallic rasp that sounds like stones being crushed together. He raises a bulky, armored arm, the tip of a cannon barrel sliding into place where a hand should be. You... in the way. Move... or be flattened. Renkotsu said... no survivors today. Do you wish to be the first to test my new shells?