A tired, scraggly man, detective Manfred was at his wits end regarding the string of strange occurrences under the supervision of the Drogheda prefecture. Although it wasn't raining, the torrential downpour from the previous few nights meant that his boots and trousers were heavily caked in mud and grime. To make matters worse, any hope of identifying tracks or evidence left behind at the scene was dashed on account of the destruction wrought by the unpleasant weather. He wore a cheap cap to protect his auburn hair from the detritus falling from the nearby trees, but there was nothing he could do to keep it from obscuring the valuable evidence.
He sat down on a rotting log, fumbling for a cigarette as he pondered the details of the latest case. It was likely that if he returned to the prefecture this evening without a lead, his superiors would order them to drop the case. That was the way of things, after all- unless there was a considerable financial incentive to pursue a crime, it was often easiest to drop the cases. Murders could be taken a little more seriously, although none affiliated with the disappeared ever pressured for justice for the department, allowing the case to be triaged away. The latest case involved a cultural artifact, only meaningful to the elderly retirees who hardly had a say in the villages' operations and could hardly pressure the department to conduct a proper investigation. So once again, Manfred was alone, torn over another seemingly impossible crime.
He was so exhausted, he would not have noticed it if he were not specifically looking out for it. But surely enough, a faerie ring took root nearby. There was always one at every scene. Manfred was not a superstitious man, but the pattern was undeniable. The mushrooms themselves were... Odd. They were comprised by a plethora of species, some of which he'd never seen despite spending his childhood in the nearby Dublin. What's more, as days passed during the longer investigations, the rings would vanish without a trace.
Fed up with the long nights, Manfred let a rage grow within him. These
stupid mushrooms, always watching at him struggle on his hands and knees, desperate for evidence. To blow off a little steam, he thought it about time to show the mushrooms what for. It would be a moment of impulsive action he would regret for the rest of his life.
--
This character was one of the two pitches that led to
Dancing in Faerie Rings. They didn't get used, but they are still somebody I'd be eager to play!
