[Last, Desperate Attempt: Piety, Req 80, 58+18=76]
You've never exactly prayed to Ranald, not formally. You've talked to him, and quite frequently, to thank or blame him as luck goes one way or another; he's been a constant part of your life, bending the odds to amuse himself and sometimes you. But now, for the first time, you clasp your hands together, bow your head, and speak to the only chance you have left. Your prayer is not a formal series of words that makes up those of more stratified cults, but a single word, repeated over and over: please.
Your prayer is cut abruptly off, as you feel a presence in the room, and the unmistakable feel of a hand on your shoulder. For a moment hope rises in you, but just for a moment. The hand remains on your shoulder, rather than the presence moving to Van Hal, and you can tell it's an attempt at comfort, rather than reassurance. An apology.
The feeling of the hand fades, but the presence remains, your only company as you sob at Van Hal's bedside