Editing Drink at the Arrant Limpet
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|Success summary = The second paragraph varies based on the {{IL|Airs of the Mourn}}. | |Success summary = The second paragraph varies based on the {{IL|Airs of the Mourn}}. | ||
{{Variant table|Condition = Airs of the Mourn|Condition alias = Airs|Effect = Second Paragraph|Compact = yes | {{Variant table|Condition = Airs of the Mourn|Condition alias = Airs|Effect = Second Paragraph|Compact = yes | ||
− | + | |Value 16 = A Boisterous Captain bursts into the tavern, accompanied by her hollering crew. The reception from the patrons is frosty – until she offers to buy the house a drink. Her ship, it seems, has landed a big score, and she is soon the toast of the hour. | |
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|Value 45 = A group of zailors raise their glasses in salute of a lost comrade. As they progress from one drink to many, their elegies become less and less sombre, and the ribald anecdotes flow ever-more freely. [...] Death is not something to be feared here. | |Value 45 = A group of zailors raise their glasses in salute of a lost comrade. As they progress from one drink to many, their elegies become less and less sombre, and the ribald anecdotes flow ever-more freely. [...] Death is not something to be feared here. | ||
− | |Value | + | |Value 61 - 68 = A dice-game erupts in accusations of cheating. No one admits to ownership of the die with six on every side. Two corsairs, grasping each others' collars, crash against a [...] wall. It gives way – they plummet, screaming. They are rapidly out of earshot. |
− | + | |Value 71 - 72 = A man in dishevelled officer's dress staggers out [...] For the last hour he has been sinking ales and bemoaning the state of the Admiralty [...] Now he steps incautiously [...] and stumbles [...] The barmaid sighs, and marks another tally on a chalkboard. | |
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|Value 90 - 99 = It is a quiet day on the Mourn. The barmaid leans on the bar [...] She is used to chaos, and the lull has left her wanting for distraction. [...] she regales you with her stories of terrible patrons past. Good heavens. Some of these must be invented, surely? | |Value 90 - 99 = It is a quiet day on the Mourn. The barmaid leans on the bar [...] She is used to chaos, and the lull has left her wanting for distraction. [...] she regales you with her stories of terrible patrons past. Good heavens. Some of these must be invented, surely? | ||
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