Kevin is a wiry forest gnome with an ordinary, slightly underfed build and an expression of permanent, mild disapproval. His brown hair sticks out in uneven tufts beneath a patched leather cap, and his clothes are practical, travel-worn, and carefully arranged despite their mismatched colors. Within a minute of meeting him, most people notice his teeth and jaw. Kevin smiles with his lips pulled tightly back, revealing small, square teeth, then chews with exaggerated care as though every bite is evidence in a trial. He also repeatedly checks the buckles on his satchel, even when they are already fastened.

Kevin is painfully earnest, aggressively factual, and convinced that his intentions are obvious to everyone. He tries to be helpful, but his definition of helpfulness usually involves identifying another person's mistakes in public. He is secretly desperate to be considered exceptional, yet responds to praise by explaining why it is technically inaccurate. Kevin is cautious around direct confrontation, preferring to arrange circumstances so that his enemies defeat themselves, preferably while Kevin is somewhere nearby insisting that nothing was his fault.

Kevin Kevin grew up in the tiny gnomish village of Nurm, where nearly everyone seemed to possess some useful talent. One gnome could repair a clock by touch, another could sing three-part harmonies, and another could identify mushrooms by smell. Kevin had no such gift. He was not strong, clever, disciplined, artistic, or mechanically gifted. He was simply mediocre, which in Nurm was somehow worse. What he did have was an infuriating devotion to the truth. He corrected exaggerations, exposed cheating, and ruined harmless gossip by explaining what had actually happened. Nurm called him sanctimonious, nosy, and exhausting. Kevin considered this unfair, since he was usually correct. Kevin was also painfully sensitive to insults. Rather than confront anyone directly, he answered mockery with pranks that he believed were harmless. A loosened chair leg caused a broken hip. A bucket of roofing nails made a very funny noise when dropped, although the resulting injuries were described by others as serious. A greased staircase sent the village baker through a window. Kevin remained sincerely confused whenever anyone used phrases such as attempted murder. His uncanny ability to escape consequences only reinforced his belief that life was fundamentally reasonable. Guards slipped while chasing him, doors were left open, and evidence vanished. Eventually, Nurm gave him food, traveling clothes, and precise directions toward the nearest road. In the cities beyond, Kevin survived by slipping through alleys, picking pockets only when he could justify it, and learning the useful difference between being unnoticed and being innocent. He became a rogue because sneaking was the one talent he possessed without realizing it, and an urchin because the streets taught him more than Nurm ever did.