It's not often outlaws come in pairs, is it? There's been reports of a duo of Lycanrocs causing havoc, robbing people and leaving them with nothing left. The two have been causing such a ruckus that now, there's been multiple teams trying to get ahold of them, as their bounty reaches higher and higher.
Within the Paragon Cave dungeon - a dungeon that the rookie rescue teams have been frequenting lately, or so they've heard - Burr paced back and forth restlessly, his claws clicking against the stone floor with each step. His partner, Matchwood, sat nearby, leaning against the wall with his long fur partially obscuring one eye.
"Oi, Matchwood," Burr growled. "How much longer are we gonna sit here twiddlin' our thumbs? I'm gonna go crazy if we don't find someone to rob soon." Burr continued pacing, claws scraping the ground with each agitated step.
Matchwood shifted slightly, his fluffy tail swishing against the wall. "Patience, Burr," he murmured, voice soft and unassuming. "The perfect mark will come along soon enough."
Burr snorted, his ears flicking back in annoyance. "That's what you always say. But how are we supposed to make a living if we don't take action?" He paused for a moment, ears perking as he picks up a distant sound. He turned to face the entrance of the dungeon. "Wait... do you hear that, Match?"
Matchwood's head snapped up, his visible eye widening slightly. "Sounds like footsteps..." he muttered, pushing himself off the wall.
"Alrighty," Burr whispered, crouching low and creeping forward. "Let's give these little punks a lesson in survival. Remember, I take point, you cover the rear. And if anyone tries to run..." A sinister chuckle escaped him as he left the sentence hanging in the air. Matchwood simply nodded, his gaze fixed down the cave path.
