Anthropomorphic 

Raven Character 

Portrait

Marcel Gizzard

Anthroxville is a town where the sun, in a fit of disdain, perennially hangs just a tad lower, casting shadows with a preference for secrecy over illumination. The light itself seems to conspire with the gloom, creating an atmosphere thick with whispered secrets and hidden agendas, where even the brightest days feel tinged with twilight. The streets here are a minefield of dust and despair, where weathered wooden signs groan in the wind like the last breaths of condemned souls. The buildings, sagging under the weight of their own decay, stand as grim reminders of a time when ambition wasn’t just a cruel joke. Peeling paint and rotting porches whisper sordid tales of lost glory and squandered hope, as if the town itself is laughing at its own downfall. Every crack and flake jeers at the lofty ambitions that turned into grim punchlines.

Every so often, a rogue gust of wind barrels through the shabby streets, kicking up the ghosts of past screw-ups and leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. It carries the acrid stench of regret mixed with the tang of rust and decay, reminding everyone of their wasted hope and botched ambitions. The decrepitude here doesn't just hint; it screams that dreams here were made to be broken, optimism crushed under the continual grind of mediocrity. Each creak and groan of the old structures is a snide reminder of how far the mighty have fallen, how this place aimed for greatness and landed face-first in the gong-pit of its own failures.

In this morass of faded aspirations, the notion of law is embodied by the illustrious likes of Lieutenant Larry Mooch and Sheriff Bobby Lockjaw. These clowns, decked out in uniforms that appear to have been salvaged from some bargain bin at a defunct costume shop, and badges that look more like hastily fashioned trinkets, could easily be mistaken for the town jesters. Their eyes, perpetually wide with a kind of stupefied confusion, and their antics, a slapstick circus, clumsy and ill-timed, unfold daily like a vaudeville puppet show, orchestrated by invisible hands that fumble with the strings.

The townsfolk, such as Graffen Gruntsqueeze, Bridget Kookold, Lola Pipsqueak, Ludo Snufflesack, and Zofia Squits, watch this farce with a mixture of amusement and resignation, knowing that these two, along with the rest of the Anthroxville Police Department (APD), couldn't solve a crime if the culprit handed them a signed confession. Every day brings a new episode in their ongoing comedy of errors, with missed clues, bungled arrests, and an ever-growing collection of unsolved cases that serve as a testament to their incompetence. Their attempts at law enforcement are so absurdly inept that even the local criminals, like Victor Wallop, John Knuckle, Gilbert Jitterbug, and Orville Stonker, find themselves stifling laughter, their misdeeds often going unpunished simply because the officers are too busy tripping over their own feet.

Whilst the hapless dullards at the APD scramble around trying to solve the whodunits, the anthropomorphic raven, Marcel Gizzard, and his partner in anti-crime, Margot Popplewell, zero in on the whodoits. Together, they are founders of Anthroxville's Detective Agency of Hunch and Premonition, which seeks to prognosticate, nose-out, and prevent imminent crimes from happening before they have taken place. Forget the tedious drudgery of solving crimes that have already happened; that's strictly for the amateurs. Yesterday's news, and not worth their time. No, their entire modus operandi was to predict and thwart the felonies of the future. 

When you've got a gut feeling that could solve an intergalactic Rubik's Cube and a partner who can connect the dots faster than you can say "Cliff Bingo," then who needs to wait for the crime to happen? Why not nip them in the bud? Marcel and Margot claim to thrive on instinct and intuition, preemptively striking before misdeeds even have a chance to sprout. Superstition? It's practically their credo. These two don’t just follow hunches; they chase omens like Milton Mouthbucket chases tail up and down the street, consult lucky charms as if they hold the secrets of the universe, and sometimes even let a deck of tarot cards call the shots in their unorthodox methods of preemptive justice. 

However, putting yourself on the line in service of society seems to be a thankless pursuit these days, and there is no shortage of critics eager to slander Marcel’s and Margot’s noble intentions. Detractors gleefully highlight that their gung-ho operations often result in a staggering amount of collateral damage, making it nearly impossible to quantify any real success. They argue that the duo’s proactive approach tends to cause more chaos than it prevents, pointing to the countless instances of unintended consequences. In fact, their failure rate is embarrassingly easy to measure, as many suspects proceed to commit the very crimes Marcel and Margot are trying to thwart. Critics are quick to remind everyone of the destruction left in their wake, questioning whether their efforts are truly for the greater good or merely a catalyst for further mayhem. Despite their good intentions, the two seem perpetually caught in a cycle of creating messes they can barely clean up, leaving the townsfolk to wonder if the cure is worse than the disease.

Some even argue that in their zealous attempts to thwart potential lawbreakers, the duo inadvertently plants the seeds of these crimes. By highlighting opportunities and providing crucial details, they may actually be manifesting the misdeeds into being. A prime example of this was the high-profile case involving the heiress Tiffany Tarradiddle and her famous patent for serendipity. A couple of years back, Marcel was nearly floored by a sudden hunch that Tiffany's patent would be targeted in an outrageously ambitious heist within the next 48 hours. This premonition struck him while eavesdropping on a hushed conversation at Edison Upskirt's Upskirt Nosher, between Tiffany, Kerubo Soleil, and Penelope Snizzsnapper. Tiffany mentioned she wasn’t thrilled about keeping the patent in her office and had arranged to transfer them to a high-security vault at Dinero Cashmoney's bank for added protection and peace of mind. Soon after, Marcel was lurking around Erm Wotsischops' crime-spawning cack-bucket of a pub, The Knotted Knacker, when the anthro raven got the sudden squiggles after scoping Axel Kettlebell showing off a new pair of leather gloves and a crowbar to his drinking pals, Marty Shuffle, Sid Blitzkrieg, and Roy Bibbowski...