Poor Porcelain Doll

<The woman lies almost motionless before you. Her emaciated body is a horrid sight, accompanied by raspy and irregular breathing. Tightly clasped in her bony hand is a lump of clay, crudely formed into a human shape. Right next to it, primitive symbols are drawn into the thick layer of dust on the church ground. From what you can decipher, they depict two humanoids, one larger than the other. A line connects the figures to another drawing, an uneven circle on a curve; below it, many crosses frantically scattered in the dust. You remember a cave barely visible on the hill overlooking the desolate battlefield.

It is clear to you that she will not survive for long. Perhaps you can find something in that cave to soothe her last moments.>

<Faint whimpering escapes her mouth.>

<You place the fragmented doll in front of the woman's face and with a burst of unexpected ecstasy, her eyes widen as much as her brittle body allows it. With the last of her strength, she grasps the doll, with its edges digging deep into her hand, yet producing no blood flow. A last pitiful wailing is uttered before she stops moving entirely.

Whether or not your last act made her death less painful, you can only guess. Atleast you can be certain that she is in agony no more.>