Anthropomorphic 

Buffalo Character 

Portrait

Orville Stonker

Amid the tangled webs and jigsawed alleys of Anthroxville, a place whose denizens are ceaselessly shuffling through the soot of life, the term 'ownership' has long lost all original meaning. Here, ‘property’ is more of a transient concept than a tangible reality; it is always on the move, ricocheting between devious townsfolk so rapidly that origin stories are not just muddled, but mythical. While it is true that the supply of burglars has always far outstripped the demand, in recent years this imbalance has fast approached crisis point, and Anthroxville finds itself effectively all burgled out.

Burglars often come home to discover that they themselves have just been burgled whilst out burgling other burglars. Burgled goods are burgled back and forth so often, that the populace has long forgotten about who any of the stuff actually belongs to anymore, with the general assumption being that all items are burgled unless explicitly stated otherwise; in which case, chances are even higher that they have been dingdonged. Such is the relentless rhythm of thieving in these parts, that the journey of stolen wares seems more like an elaborate dance than a crime epidemic: snatched, re-snatched, and then snatched again, ad infinitum. And it isn’t just limited to household items either, for party-tricks, witty one-liners, the best years of one’s life: all are regularly pinched, plundered, and pilfered with sticky-fingered abandon. 

In the dizzying midst of this mania, one silhouette casts a longer, more distinguished shadow than all others: the unmistakable anthropomorphic buffalo, Orville Stonker. Heralded as the Cardinal of Kleptomania, he serves as the ultimate authority on all snaffling matters, setting a lofty standard that has the mere casuals, hobbyists, and pretenders to his throne both awed and dispirited. In fact, such is Orville’s latch-lifting prowess, that he’s even purported to have nabbed the affections of Anthroxville heart-throb, Penelope Snizzsnapper.

It could be said that Orville was always destined for great things in the domain of the ill-gotten gain, for he himself is, in fact, a stolen good. Although the details change depending on who you ask, the legend goes that his biological mother who, rather than partake in the mundane rituals of love, decided to simply misappropriate a few vials of life’s essence from a fertility clinic and followed through with the promise of creation without courtship. However, this move didn't pay off in the long run, for roughly nine months later, the newly birthed anthro buffalo was promptly swiped from the comfort of his incubator, before soon again being yoinked once more, this time from the backseat during a red light on the way to whatever home he was being taken to.

So you can see that he owes his very existence to the craft. Once, after an eventful evening spent ransacking Gilbert Jitterbug's abode, followed by Spackle Knockabout's neighboring pad, he found himself strategizing for Herbert Whiffpop's nearby stronghold. It was then, amidst his scheming, that Orville was suddenly engulfed by an epiphany that he was...