Now… it is not unnatural for a Halfling of any background, race, or creed to live in the same humble hut all their lives. Being born on the hay of the stables where the cattle and livestock live and sleep. Kids running around the grove kicking up the fluffy white petals of the spring daffodils, pulling the occasional prank on a village elder, fishing in the slow flowing stream that goes right down the middle of the dirt road that many considered to be the center marker of their beloved village. They were a kind people who would make every resident and visitor to this small village feel at home. They even tolerated the stories of Merric ‘Tall Tale’ Weaver.
 
No one really knows the exact history of the Weaver family. If you were to ask Merric about his father he would tell you of his father Garilynn ‘The Brave’ Weaver who was a brave adventurer who once singlehandedly slayed a fierce dragon who was known by the name of Gadroon. After he slayed the Gadroon he wandered into the deepest, darkest cave imaginable and beat the Troll king Maalik that resided there into submission and wandered distant lands slaying monsters until he became king of a distant land. The version that the village will tell you is that his father was just as delusional as he was and ended up wandering to close to the edge of the valley and was eaten by a wandering pack of wolves. Now whether or not these stories are true is irrelevant, what matter is that the way he tells the stories and the way he truly believes in his words and makes even the most far-fetched stories seem real.