Mack “Diesel” Vale

Standing tall beneath the shop’s steel awning is Mack “Diesel” Vale, a burly anthro hyena with a build carved from years of heavy lifting and long shifts under the hood. His fur is a rugged blend of sandy beige and smoky gray, dotted with dark patches along his shoulders and arms, almost like permanent grease stains from his trade. A short, scruffy beard frames his muzzle, and his half-lidded blue eyes carry that calm, confident stare of someone who’s seen every kind of broken engine and knows exactly how to fix it. Diesel’s signature look is simple but iconic: faded blue overalls, chest bare beneath the straps, a worn baseball cap turned forward, and a belt stocked with tools and holsters, one for a flashlight, one for his trusty multi-tool. A cigarette often dangles lazily from his muzzle, the ember glowing faintly as he exhales with a quiet sigh between jobs. His voice is deep and gravelly, yet steady, the kind of tone that could calm an anxious customer or cut through the chaos of a busy garage. Despite his tough appearance, Diesel’s got a quiet sense of humor and a steady patience that makes him a favorite around town. He’s known for calling everyone “kid” or “chief,” regardless of age, and his work ethic is unmatched. Rumor has it he once rebuilt an entire engine in the rain just to make sure a stranded traveler could get home before nightfall.