Ferroth

The next day was dripping and slightly overcast. Farah always appreciated when the sun was in absentia, even if temporarily. That morning, all four of the potential robbers faced the bank from a farm cart on the opposite side of the street, watching customers and employees line up for it to open. Farah glared at Harald. “You didn’t say a word about painted dogs!” The tribal canines contrasted with the city beasts lining up for the bank: Four of the large-eared canines stood guard outside the bank steps, each with a large oval shield in one paw and a long bladed spear in the other, warclubs stuffed in their belts. The ‘painted dogs’ lived up to their name: their fur patterns seemed as if they had been painted on with a swift and thick brush by some god above. Zanna growled. “They are good with spears...” her voice lowered. “I have fought them before.” The bear rubbed at an unseen scar on her side. Marshas squinted his eyes. “I see no tribal markings on them. They must be

“So, what’s the catch?” the gray furred ferret asked, her arms folded over her leather-clad bosom. Her muzzle was turned up in a smirk as she challenged the male coyote. The ferret leaned against the wall of the cellar the impromptu meeting was being held in. A few lanterns hanging from the wall were all the illumination they were provided with. The coyote’s ears twitched as he grinned a toothy grin. “The catch, my dear Farah, is quite simply the fact that the bank is only the second most secured facility in our kingdom. No one has broken into the vaults. ...Well, not successfully that is.” Farah’s tail twitched. “First time for everything. But surely there’s more to this job?” “Yes,” the coyote sighed as he rubbed his temples, “I’m getting to that.” “Get to it then!” a female polar bear growled. The bear was clad in chainmail, a round wooden shield rested against the seat she was slouched in, a bearded axe and a large seax knife were on her belt, and her massive paws never