20th of Summer, 510 AV
Vitru knew he needed to devote the next few days toying with his newest gadget. He had taken the inspiration from a young child in the Bazaar clinging to his mother's skirts earlier that evening. The child's free hand was hanging listlessly at his side as the mother pulled the boy through the bustling market. As people watching had fast become a favorite pastime for the diminutive Pycon, it was no surprise that Vitru was noticed by the boy while he was seated atop one of the many canopied stalls along the open-air portion of the marketplace.
Vitru had tossed a jaunty wave to the boy when their eyes had met, and the boy was forced to blink rapidly against the late afternoon sun. Upon comprehending the gesture, the boy attempted a wave and Vitru's eyes were drawn to the small doll in the child's hand. Amidst the bumping of other hurried customers and the insistent tugging of his mother, the simple figurine broke at the shoulder and fell to the merciless trampling of the after-work shoppers. The last sight which Vitru caught of the boy was of him stoically blinking back tears as he imagined his toy now lost to the fates and to end it's simple existence unloved and uncherished.
Tonight, later that same evening, Vitru felt compelled to return to the market as the crowds dissipated to retrieve the lifeless doll. He had been impressed with the urge to give the toy a new life. He had been impressed by the child's possessiveness and mourning at the loss of his favored plaything, and the tear filled and red rimmed eyes had impressed themselves into Vitru's nexus. The intervening hours were spent alone in Vitru's small office, as he frantically drew up plans for the supposedly simple modification. He had the parts to spare, he just needed a way to get the doll back home with him.
So it was that the inquisitive little Pycon found his way back through the streets to the Bazaar, his trusted Py-pole in hand. He had affixed his Py-string to the end of his pole, such that he might tow the doll home with him through the now much emptier streets. And by some stroke of miraculous luck, the doll had been spared any serious damage and the churning feet earlier that day had pushed it aside and up against the walls of the fortress. An hour's more searching yielded the severed arm, and the Pycon began his triumphant journey back towards the Ironworks, and his office. A curious set of feelings earlier that day turned into an curious sight to behold should any on-lookers catch the tiny Pycon trudging along the darkening streets dragging a doll behind on a string, a severed arm bent over and across his shoulder.