Merric is a native of Ustalav, farm-raised with the strength to show it. He spent much of his youth helping his neighbors build farmhouses and other minor constructions, and so has picked up a knack for architecture. However, his fiery temper and less-than-stellar mental faculties led him to a life of adventuring, not that he really minds. Sustained concentration bores Merric, and he prefers to throw himself into the task at hand, instead of wasting time planning ahead.
A childhood full of rough encounters and physical labor left him with two principles: hit first and hit second. The scars covering his body make him a ugly sight, but acquiring them has given him the ability to shrug off pain that would make any other man cry.
Merric is driven by a desire to grind bones to dust -- those of the undead, at least. The mere mention of those unliving horrors is enough to set him off, and woe be to skeleton that crosses his path... Merric hates the undead, and will gladly aid anyone who needs protection from them. Money doesn't hurt either.
During a brief stint as Professor Lorrimor's hired muscle, his quick-thinking placed him directly between a battleaxe and the professor, earning him the man's undying gratitude. A long scar on his right shoulder pays testament to that fact.
Merrics greatest strength is, well, his physical strength. Well above average in height and weight, he cuts an imposing figure, though he rarely uses that to his advantage. He prefers to get things done with his sword.
His greatest weakness is his lack of education. Merric secretly wishes he had the brains to be an architect, so that he could one day build something great. He knows, however, that that is not his lot in life, and so contents himself to following his heart, smashing things along the way.
If Merric were a piece of furniture, he would be a sturdy wooden chair. Straight-forward and reliable, without any unneeded padding or useless frills.