Session Twenty-One - Tailor Made
Paklavanti’s caravan slowly began to wind it’s way out of the Haven, following the rough road northwards. It seemed the whole town had gathered to wave good-bye, wishing the trader well and bidding him to return soon. His visit had been a boon for the town, that had been starting to languish in boredom. Something of a carnival atmosphere had developed, lifting everyone’s spirits and giving them a much-needed reason to have some fun.
Maseeka stood with the rest of them, waving goodbye. But she had a much different reason to be happy, several hundred of them jangling in her purse, and her smile was quite genuine. She hadn’t been able to participate in the festivities with everyone else, but knew that it was worth it.
The last few months had been rough as she tried to figure out her role in this new town. She was still working on coming to grips with her newfound faith, and the awkward conversations that she was now having with the other Bekyar that now followed the law-god Abadar. Eventually she had settled in working as a tailor and leatherworker, helping to patch clothing and armor. In her free time, she used the scraps she had to make dolls for the children of Haven, many of whom were orphans.
Stuffed monkeys, hyenas and jackals with too-big heads, spiders with clever little joints, long and sinuous snakes… They are all mismatched in their own way, put together out of scraps and held together with hope. She enjoyed seeing the children’s faces light up, and watching as they ran around with them, re-enacting the folk tales and stories that had been passed down for generations.
It was a fun little side thing, but when the caravan came in and set up shop, a sudden inspiration struck her. She took the meager savings she had, bought as much cloth, leather, and thread as she could, then holed up in her tiny hovel for the next three days frantically sewing, forcing herself to ignore the fun that everyone else was having.
It was a simple affair to add three gray strips of cloth across the front, a yellow-dyed hair bow to the head, and a crude approximation of Abadar’s holy symbol to the front. She had little doubt they would sell well. In addition to the new doll of the mayor, there was a half-sized one that had four arms wielding eight swords; a thin lanky wrinkled one with a black-stitched scowl and a book affixed to one hand; and an oversized one that was actually hollow and could be used to store small things. She had a sense they would ALL sell well, except for the one modeled after the Warden; as much as she was glad for his role in her liberation and enlightening her as to the way of Desna, she didn’t think anyone would want those dolls. She felt compelled to make a few, so as to complete the set, but who in their right mind would want a doll of a bearded elf?