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|Success summary = The text varies with {{IL|Smuggled Airs}}
 
|Success summary = The text varies with {{IL|Smuggled Airs}}
 
{{Variant table|Condition=Smuggled Airs|Condition type=Text|Effect=Text|Compact=yes|Show Unaccounted=yes
 
{{Variant table|Condition=Smuggled Airs|Condition type=Text|Effect=Text|Compact=yes|Show Unaccounted=yes
|Value 1-9 = "—and so I says to 'em, 'ave you looked down? Place doesn't look very low to me!" The speaker [...] basks in the laughter of his fellows. "They didn't seem to think it was so funny," he muses. "Had to get out of there sharpish."
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|Value 1-8 = "—and so I says to 'em, 'ave you looked down? Place doesn't look very low to me!" The speaker [...] basks in the laughter of his fellows. "They didn't seem to think it was so funny," he muses. "Had to get out of there sharpish."
 
|Value 10-19 = A visiting Miserherder describes, in halting English, an isolated fortress belonging to 'a priesthood of the vulgar tongue'. […] the smuggler across from her listens intently. When she is done, he nods. "We'll chart a different course. Thank you."
 
|Value 10-19 = A visiting Miserherder describes, in halting English, an isolated fortress belonging to 'a priesthood of the vulgar tongue'. […] the smuggler across from her listens intently. When she is done, he nods. "We'll chart a different course. Thank you."
|Value 20-29 = A man with a stentorian slur and  ale in each hand tells tall tales. A warren of death and madness. Bones falling like rain from new-cut bore-holes. Skulls arranged in unseeing mosaics. [...] rumbling from the dark above, like the approach of a great beast.
+
|Value 21-28 = A man with a stentorian slur and  ale in each hand tells tall tales. A warren of death and madness. Bones falling like rain from new-cut bore-holes. Skulls arranged in unseeing mosaics. [...] rumbling from the dark above, like the approach of a great beast.
 
|Value 30-39 = A woman with a knife at her belt and rust beneath her nails eats with a vigour that repels and fascinates in equal measure. "More," she calls as each plate empties. "More!" Tears carve rivers down her dirty cheeks.
 
|Value 30-39 = A woman with a knife at her belt and rust beneath her nails eats with a vigour that repels and fascinates in equal measure. "More," she calls as each plate empties. "More!" Tears carve rivers down her dirty cheeks.
|Value 40-49 = The Starved and slowly Starving [...] argue endlessly about their Moon-Misers. Whether they flourish. Where the next migration will end. Whose is quickest, or strongest, or most lovely. Which will bear the fairest clutch when they next visit the Mooncotes.
+
|Value 41-48 = The Starved and slowly Starving [...] argue endlessly about their Moon-Misers. Whether they flourish. Where the next migration will end. Whose is quickest, or strongest, or most lovely. Which will bear the fairest clutch when they next visit the Mooncotes.
|Value 50-59 = Returning smugglers bring news of the latest tricks of the revenue men, the White-and-Golds, [...]. "We'll need to change the designs of the barrels again," one laments. [...]<p>
+
|Value 52-56 = Returning smugglers bring news of the latest tricks of the revenue men, the White-and-Golds, [...]. "We'll need to change the designs of the barrels again," one laments. [...]<p>
 
"I'll let the Candle-Men know," [...] "We lead, the law follows. It was ever thus."
 
"I'll let the Candle-Men know," [...] "We lead, the law follows. It was ever thus."
|Value 60-69 = A [...] youth, clearly fresh from New Newgate, pulls a knife after a particularly pointed jibe. The room stills.
+
|Value 60-66 = A [...] youth, clearly fresh from New Newgate, pulls a knife after a particularly pointed jibe. The room stills.
  
 
"We don't do that here, boy." A Starved Man stands [...]
 
"We don't do that here, boy." A Starved Man stands [...]
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The youth's captain nods, white-faced.
 
The youth's captain nods, white-faced.
|Value 70-79 = By the hearth, a lad with [...] sallow complexion of a New Newgate inmate stands to bellow a toast. "To Old Resurrection!" A ragged cheer rises in the pub, with many glasses raised [...]<p>"Don't let 'er hear you call 'er old," a voice from the corner croons.
+
|Value 70-78 = By the hearth, a lad with [...] sallow complexion of a New Newgate inmate stands to bellow a toast. "To Old Resurrection!" A ragged cheer rises in the pub, with many glasses raised [...]<p>"Don't let 'er hear you call 'er old," a voice from the corner croons.
|Value 80-89 = An [...] accordion struggles through [...] halfway between a shanty and a nursery rhyme:
+
|Value 85-89 = An [...] accordion struggles through [...] halfway between a shanty and a nursery rhyme:
  
 
<p><i>'Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.</i><br>
 
<p><i>'Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.</i><br>
 
<i>Dim the lights, o hunger, as the Candle-Men go by.'</i><p>
 
<i>Dim the lights, o hunger, as the Candle-Men go by.'</i><p>
 
Most of the patrons [...] seem to know the words. [...]
 
Most of the patrons [...] seem to know the words. [...]
|Value 90-100 = Today the Moon hosts a captain who – or so the story goes – has flown so far east that the Roof begins to curve back down towards the zee.[...]<p>[...] "Do you think you'll ever return?"<p>She peers at the querent [...] "Return? I never left."
+
|Value 90-99 = Today the Moon hosts a captain who – or so the story goes – has flown so far east that the Roof begins to curve back down towards the zee.[...]<p>[...] "Do you think you'll ever return?"<p>She peers at the querent [...] "Return? I never left."
  
 
}}}}
 
}}}}

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