Halflings are generally taken to be a jolly, happy sort. Their names can often reflect this; rarely is one given a dark or foreboding title. Such is the way with Giggles. When she was born, there was nothing particularly peculiar, no signs or omens that would herald her future, either good or ill. She lived a fairly normal childhood, learning all the skills she could, working hard on her family's farm, enjoying the simple meals and drink that all halflings tend towards; all the sorts of things you would expect from a normal, unassuming young hin.

Of course, that changed somewhat around the time the neighbours came 'round to visit and found the fields burning and the family butchered, their various pieces hacked apart and scattered throughout the scorched, ruined farmhouse. The only one that appeared to escape the massacre was their darling, normal daughter. The assumptions were as rapid as they were natural, of course; something demonic had stolen her away in the night, some bandits had assaulted the home and taken her for their own amusement, or perhaps she'd fled into the forest as whatever monstrous acts had occurred and ended up lost and devoured by a bear or some such. Nobody wanted to put forth the opinion that she herself had been responsible; they all thought it, each and every one had the vague, unsettling notion creeping and lingering at the back of their mind. But none dared give voice to the suspicion in the wake of such tragedy.

They never did see her again, nor did they ever uncover the truth of the massacre. Perhaps some things are best left unknown.