Royvin is a rock gnome woman with close-cropped russet hair, an ink-smudged nose, and a broad, practical face. Her clothes are carefully mended but plainly worn: a dun-colored shirt, a short leather vest, and a belt crowded with small tools. Within a minute of meeting her, most people notice her habit of checking the little brass gear tucked into her vest pocket, rubbing its teeth with her thumb as if making sure they are still there.

Practical, quick to laugh, and quicker to notice a person being pushed around. Royvin favors quiet solutions and plain talk, but once she decides someone is in danger she becomes stubbornly difficult to redirect.

Royvin Mechhand grew up mending farm gates, mill teeth, and anything else that failed before payday. Her hands were better with a file than a plow, though she was never strong enough to make a stubborn hinge yield by force. She learned to watch people instead: who carried a key, who lied about a broken latch, and which loose board could be lifted without a sound. The brass gear she checks by habit came from a ruined mill mechanism, a keepsake from the first repair she ever managed alone. When a levy crew tried to seize the village’s grain stores ahead of winter, Royvin slipped into their storehouse and jammed the lock with a shaving of iron. The delay gave the neighbors time to move the grain and gather witnesses. She took no credit for the crowd that drove the collectors off, but the story grew in the telling, and folk began calling her a hero. Royvin left soon after, carrying a short sword, a set of lock tools, and a conviction that a clever hand can protect people a strong arm cannot. She still sends whatever she can spare back home, and she has a wary eye for anyone who treats ordinary people as easy prey.