Merric is a wiry halfling with sun-darkened skin and sandy hair kept short and messy. He has nimble, calloused fingers and eyes that constantly scan his surroundings. He prefers muted greens and greys, and there is usually a faint smudge of soot or grease on his cheek from checking for hidden mechanisms.

I am a man of few words, preferring to listen and observe. Information is the most valuable currency, and I rarely give it away for free. I have a dry sense of humor and a deep distrust of authority figures who talk too much about the law.

Merric High Hill did not grow up in a cozy burrow with six meals a day. He was born in the soot covered alleys of a bustling harbor city, the youngest of a halfling family that struggled to survive in a human world. He learned early that his small size was a tool for reaching things others couldn't, and he spent his youth slipping through windows and attic vents for the Short Stick Gang. He earned the nickname Fingers for his ability to disassemble a lock before a guard finished a yawn. After a job went sideways and his mentor was arrested, Merric realized the city was getting too small for his reputation. He took his tools and his cut of the gold, heading into the wider world to see what larger fortunes might be ripe for the taking. He remains a criminal at heart, but he is looking for a crew that can offer more than just a quick score.