Editing Survey the dock-cradles

{{Action
|Icon = Gaidersmourn.png
|From Storylet title = Explore Gaider's Mourn
|ID = 258265
|Button text = MOOCH
|Description = The dock-cradles occupy the lowest stage of the citadel, a riot of straining ropes and jangling chains. Here is where visitors take their very first steps on the Mourn.

|BroadDiff = 150
|BroadQuality = {{IL|Watchful}}
|Success title = A crumbling old well
|Success description = The ships in the dock-cradles hail from across the length and breadth of the zee, united only in a certain battered aspect and a complete disregard for such petty things as 'laws' and 'sovereignty'.

{{...}} 
|Success summary = The second paragraph varies with {{IL|Airs of the Mourn}}.
{{Variant table|Condition = Airs of the Mourn|Effect = Description|Compact = yes
|Value 12-17 = A quartet of raucous monks spill out of a rowboat, swaying perilously. They pry the vessel away from the winches. One of them bears the little boat on his back as they stagger towards the Arrant Limpet. That's one way of avoiding docking fees.
|Value 56 = A Blemmigan crests the landing stage, having apparently climbed up the Mourn all the way from zee level. Its fronds waft; its beak trills. It hides beneath a shipping crate, and is lost from view.
|Value 62 = A rope […] snaps with a crack, and the air is filled with a cacophony of […] straining metal. For a moment it looks as though the steamer in this cradle will fall […] but an intricate series of fall-backs and guard-ropes catch it before its tumble can truly begin.
|Value 93 = Zailors haul a raft […] struggling to fit its ramshackle shape within any of the cradles. A monkey swings out from the makeshift vessel, looking around with fierce and intelligent eyes before swinging […] up the stalagmite. A visitor from the Empire of Hands?
|Value ? = A gaggle of Chelonite Monster-Hunters argue with the harbourmaster. Behind them, the winches strain to lift the cadaver of something colossal […] from the zee. […] Where opinions differ is on whether the foetid beast deserves its own spot in the dock-cradles.
|Value ?? = A red-hulled pirate cutter […] in a cradle close to the Arrant Limpet. Passers-by stop to mutter and stare. A gaggle of Mourn-born urchins dare each other to touch the prow, and retreat giggling […] The vessel of some pirate-king? Or just a fancy paint job?
|Value ??? = All […] the Admiralty's colours have been scrubbed clean […], but you recognise a child of Wolfstack when you see one. Zailors bustle […] The crew wear a motley assortment of piratical garments, all of which seem to be brand-new. There is no sign of a captain.
|Value ???? = A zubmarine rocks in its cradle as some great activity shudders within. The flywheel spins. There is a creak like a dying breath, and the airlock edges open. The smell from within is truly foul – how long has it been since this crew last surfaced?
|Value ????? = A triple-hulled Khaganian vessel is being transferred to a specialised cradle designed to hold its outriggers stable. The crew watch in consternation as the Mourn's dockhands haul on rope and winch, drawing the trimaran creakily across empty air.
|Value ?????? = A Polythremean pirate steamer makes demands to an overseer, filling the air with the piercing complaint of an upset steam-engine. A trio of Clay pirates stand guard impassively. Living ships have particular requirements, it seems.
}}
}}
{{incomplete|Airs values and descriptions}}
*{{Success Increase|Watchful}}
*{{Gain|Zee-Ztory|4 x}}
*{{Airs|Airs of the Mourn}}

{{Failure
|Failure title = An unsafe place to pry
|Failure description = The ships in the dock-cradles hail from across the length and breadth of the zee, {{...}}

{{...}}

The dockhands catch you nosing, and warn you away with a series of increasingly graphic descriptions of where you might 'stick it'.
|Failure summary = The second paragraph varies with {{IL|Airs of the Mourn}}.
}}

*{{Failure Increase|Watchful}}
*{{Gain|Zee-Ztory|4 x}}
*{{Gain|Nightmares|+2? CP}}
*{{Airs|Airs of the Mourn}}