There is only one guard/bouncer visible, a rusty colored bugbear called Pygrak or 'Pig,' but despite that whenever there is trouble beyond his capability to handle a quick shout always brings a few extra enforcers that seem to come right out of the woodwork.
((Asbestos has a orc woman disguise. also if this don't work, he has thieves tools))
"Ah, yes. Well here goes nothing."Asbestos rubbed his hands together anxiously and breathed deeply again. He used Druidcraft to announce his presence, sending a fluttering of leaves and flowers down onto the bugbear as he sashayed in there. A fitting heel-first-hip-twist strut. When he got in front of Pygrak, the changeling used another casting of Druidcraft to send whirl of wind around his hair, and then flipped it.
"Hello, darling~" He said in his most sensual voice. Internally, he winced. He brushed himself against the bugbear, twirling what little fur that peeked out of the bouncer's clothing. "Me and my boys are trying to get inside. Perhaps we may venture in? Hmm, yes?"
((Persuasion check: 7 + 1 =9 ah fail))
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<---- me irl slow reader, even slower writer easily jumpy thanks for being patient
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now;
Fist, more than a lil' irate over the collapse of the first plan, pulls Fyn to his side. He whispers, "Drow boy, now. Te 'bear has a we'kness for 'em." The big man watches 'Sbestos' attempt, knowing it won't work. Pig's not a lover of women, let alone orcs. Elsewise, he'd be workin' the other place.
He waits for the young man on his arm to become a drow boy, knowing the big bug's weakness will only get them through the door. These places were no longer Guild affiliates; they'd need to be careful.
"So, how do you all want to handle this, we got x hours till sunrise so quite some darkness left for us to play with."
"Ideally we'd blend in to scout. But I assume nobody has a sailor outfit, which leaves pairing up and pretending to be drunk couples wandered over from the red-light district, or hiding & sneaking. Unless someone has a better idea."
"Hmm not really, we don't have any familiar either, so I guess acting like drunks is our best bet indeed." Smithy answers Lace looking at Steel and"Erm, where is molly guys?"
As his companions begin to investigate the docks in their own way Steelclaw just pulls up his hood “I’ll take a look around to see what I can find while she does her thing.”
“Annnd…there goes Steelclaw.Ok, we pretend to be drunk, stagger from one crate to the next to remain mostly hidden and see how many are on board…”
Stealth 11 (maybe not mostly hidden)
Performance23 (nat 20, she looks like a drunk h00ker)
Investigation 20 (16 on the D 20 roll which would make perception 21 if you think that would be more appropriate)
“Oh, hello Molly. What do you have here? (looks as the bloody paper. Is it a ships manifest, or something else?) Thank you.”
It is a ship's manifest. But the name of the ship and most of the items are blotted with blood. The few you can read are regular supplies except for a dozen containers of saffron. Who knows what else is on this ship.
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"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Upon hearing the word Saffron mentioned Molly's inquisitive nature sparked to life, though her understanding of the words danced on the edge of her bizarre world. "Was ist das, Saffron?"Molly queried with a cocked head, her words a curious mix of innocence and creeping dread. "Was are wir doing hier on this Schiff, und why bist du so interested in these Dinge?" Her question hung in the dank air, her eyes momentarily reflecting a flicker of genuine confusion before slipping back into her usual unhinged demeanor.
"Is das ein Spiel or something much darker?" she continued, her tone a sinister serenade, as she inadvertently flicked a speck of blood from the manifest, watching it stain the dock's wood. "Ich bin so bored, dieses waiting and sneaking... and the Kätzchen has Flöhe,"she whispered conspiratorially, eyeing Steelclaw in annoyance as she scratched at the back of her neck and sniffed at her armpits.
Her gaze then drifted back to Lace, waiting for an explanation or perhaps a diversion from the tedium, her thoughts a swirling maelstrom that occasionally broke the surface with a clarity unsettling in its sharpness. "Tell mich, Lace, about dieses Saffron, before ich lose my mind more als usual."Molly hissed, her voice a blend of jest and jeopardy, as she shuffled closer, her movements echoing the erratic dance of the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns along the docks.
"Saffron is a spice, Molly. There was a song with the lyrics "I'm just mad about Saffron", I forget the rest. Let me think..."
Investigation 23 to remember anymore about Saffron. Things she'd be looking for: how big are the containers on the manifest? Salt shaker size? Barrels? Is that normal for shipments of Saffron? Where is it from? Anything else, like opium or similar goods, come from those places? The rest of the lyrics?
Lace tells the group what she remembers abouit Saffron.
Then she looks at the page. Are the letters fading and dissolving where the blood is wet? If not, the ink may be colorfast and maybe the blood could be rinsed off at least a little, with water.
Saffron is among the most expensive of spices. The containers vary depending on how much is being transported and from how far away. Saffron originated from the center of the continent but now can be found in any corner, so without examining the shipping containers you wouldn't be able to tell. A cheap drug that shares it nickname with that of a coin, 'Silver,' is also sometimes shipped along with Saffron that originates from the central, northern, or western parts of the continent.
The parchment of the manifest is saturated with thick dark blood, so much so that your guess is it's either from more than one person, or if from a lone person that individual is no more. There's no reason getting mad at Molly as done is done, and who knows if she even had anything to do with it being bathed in blood.
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"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
"What did you see on the ship Molly? Any guards? Any sailors?" smithy asks Molly, not to happy with the Bloody manifest but (trying) not to blame Molly for it. "A couple of cases of Saffron should at least get us a pretty penny than, although I'm not sure how we will get it off the ship. At least not with the 4 of us I think"
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"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
A lone crewman can be seen on deck illuminated by the lantern he carries, making his patrols in a lazy circuit aft to starboard, bow to port. There are few if any present on the docks, either coming from or going to their respective ships. The silence of the night is disturbed only by the sound of a cage creaking as it gently swings from a chain hung by a post above one of the docks, it's lone occupant a skeleton wearing some scraps of cloth. Several crows hop and skitter about in short flights landing here and there, not bothering the skeleton much having picked it clean days ago.
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"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Under the hushed veil of night at the docks, the Rhinemaiden lingered slightly apart, her silhouette ghostly against the backdrop of swaying ships. Her companions' murmurs about saffron swirled through the air, yet the words twisted into enigmatic wisps before they could settle in Molly's mind.
"Saffron, ist das ein Gewürz?" she murmured nearly unintelligibly from her blood-stained lips. The explanations from Lace seemed to drift through Molly like sea mist, her grasp on their mundane value of saffron as fleeting as shadows at dusk.
As Smithy probed about her observations aboard the ship, Molly's response dripped with eerie detachment. "Ich habe gesehen... Holzdecks, Segel, und lanterns,"she recounted, her voice threading through the dark like the whisper of the damned. "Viele verschlossene Kisten und barrels. The scents of tobacco, Zucker, spirits like rum und brandy, und flour,"each detail emerging as though recited from a ghostly ledger.
When pressed about the presence of sailors and guards, Molly's eyes narrowed into a malevolent glare, her fingers fluttering like bats disturbed from their roost not unlike how a child might reply to the question of how old she is. "Natürlich, there are sailors und guards," she scoffed, her tone spiked with scorn for the apparent naivety of her comrades.
Then a conspiratorial hush suddenly fell over Molly as her voice dropped to a sinister whisper. "Ah, aber da ist noch more,"Molly intoned, her voice a chilling mixture of dread and delight. "Eine jämmernde geisterschrei tót sea elfe, die Saraphina genannt wird, haunts the Unterdecks. Sie war mit unheimlichen Ketten gefesselt, um sie zu halten, yearning for her opalescent conch zurück."Mad Molly's words twined through the darkness, eerie and enthralling as she spun a tale real or imagined... one could not tell.
Molly leaned even closer to Lace, a mischievous glint in her luminous eyes as she continued, "Die Hübsche hat mir geflüstert, durch Drusilla, through the creaks of the ship, through the sighs of the sea. That one, sie ist überhaupt nicht glücklich... but now, perhaps she is."The Rhinemaiden's laughter then trickled out, a sound as unsettling as the moans of the ship, hinting at a madness veiled thinly by her cryptic words.
Her eyes, wide and gleaming with a feral glow, darted across the faces of her companions, inviting them into her twisted reality. "Sie seeks vengeance or perhaps redemption – who can say? Aber sie verfolgt das Schiff, a phantom from salt and sorrow."
Insight 23 (nat 20) to deduce how much of Molly's report is madness, and how to translate from context, given Lace's limited mastery of Deutsche is mostly centered around food.
"Alright, tobacco, rum, brandy, flour... I think Smithy was wondering where the guards & sailors were, so we can avoid them.
Wait? A sea elf named Saraphina? Haunting phantom? Seeks revenge or redemption, and an opalescent conch? Molly, are you saying they're holding an elfmaid hostage, or they've bound a spirit to the ship?"
Molly is quite mad. How can you trust anything she says... although she did produce a bloody manifest which had to come from somewhere. Even those lost in the depths of madness are prone to jest from time to time. The trick is trying to sort out the madness from how she perceives reality.
(You do sense a playful mood underlying her madness but that could just be because she is out and about on a 'mission' instead of chasing rats in a tavern, or how she deals with her grief over the loss of Biscotti.)
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"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Smithy listens to Lace's translation and doesn't make much sense of it.
"Well I guess we should get a bit closer to see if we can get on the ship, shall we?"he asks Lace as he doesn't see another way of discovering much else from here.
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"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Molly's refusal to answer your follow up questions (#191) suggests some of it might be made up, or at the very least embellished.
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"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
In the oppressive darkness of the dockside, where shadows seemed to breathe and the air tasted of salt and secrets, Molly stood like a wraith among her companions. Her ethereal figure, draped in the night's embrace, was both a specter of dread and an enigma wrapped in madness.
As Lace and Smithy pondered her cryptic revelations planning their next move, Molly's features stretched into a grotesque grin, her fangs glinting like daggers under the scant moonlight. Her laughter, a chilling, girlish titter, broke the heavy silence as she pulled the doll Drusilla close, her ear bent to its whispered secrets.
"Ah, yes,"she hissed with unnerving clarity, each syllable sharply enunciated as if carved from the cold night air itself. "Drusilla whispers to me to say... do step a bit closer, dear friends... venture first into the belly of the beast! You first, you first, you first!"Her honey sweet voice was crystalline and carried with it an undertone of macabre delight, ringing like a solitary church bell echoing through a deserted chapel. It was an invitation—or a dare—to partake in a dance with doom itself, spoken with a clarity so stark it bordered on the supernatural.
Around them, the creak of the ships and the occasional distant shout of a sailor only added to the scene's gothic horror, each sound a note in the symphony of the night's eerie chorus. Molly's, playful yet perilous, promised both danger and discovery as they edged closer to the shadow-shrouded ship that might hold more than just cargo.
Eventually Steelclaw returns from scouting to the group and looks at them "I didn't see anything..." he said gritting his teeth at the lack of paying attention to the surroundings. His face still reflecting the sorrow from the loss of a close friend.
Meanwhile, back in the cusp of passion and debauchery, Fist's run into a problem, or two actually. First is the damn wizard getting uppity. If he didn't know fer a fact his punch would kill the fool on impact, he'd of decked 'im right there and then.
Now Fyn's acting up! 'Boy's usually cool on the face 'o seductin'. But now, fer one reason or another, the lad can't pull it off. So Fist improvises. Seeing 'Sbestos fail miserably in gaining entry, the big man wraps his arm around the buxom orc, pulling her back. "'Tis nae gonna work, lad. This particul'r man likes 'em elven... and male. Swing 'round the corner n' gimme a wood elf boy to hang off me arm. 'Might do the trick... Ach. But lose the top when ya do." He points to the brazier.
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((Asbestos has a orc woman disguise. also if this don't work, he has thieves tools))
"Ah, yes. Well here goes nothing." Asbestos rubbed his hands together anxiously and breathed deeply again. He used Druidcraft to announce his presence, sending a fluttering of leaves and flowers down onto the bugbear as he sashayed in there. A fitting heel-first-hip-twist strut. When he got in front of Pygrak, the changeling used another casting of Druidcraft to send whirl of wind around his hair, and then flipped it.
"Hello, darling~" He said in his most sensual voice. Internally, he winced. He brushed himself against the bugbear, twirling what little fur that peeked out of the bouncer's clothing. "Me and my boys are trying to get inside. Perhaps we may venture in? Hmm, yes?"
((Persuasion check: 7 + 1 =9 ah fail))
<---- me irl slow reader, even slower writer easily jumpy thanks for being patient
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now;
Player: Dragonlance
[Skip step 1? Okay–]
Fist, more than a lil' irate over the collapse of the first plan, pulls Fyn to his side. He whispers, "Drow boy, now. Te 'bear has a we'kness for 'em." The big man watches 'Sbestos' attempt, knowing it won't work. Pig's not a lover of women, let alone orcs. Elsewise, he'd be workin' the other place.
He waits for the young man on his arm to become a drow boy, knowing the big bug's weakness will only get them through the door. These places were no longer Guild affiliates; they'd need to be careful.
“Annnd…there goes Steelclaw. Ok, we pretend to be drunk, stagger from one crate to the next to remain mostly hidden and see how many are on board…”
Stealth 11 (maybe not mostly hidden)
Performance 23 (nat 20, she looks like a drunk h00ker)
Investigation 20 (16 on the D 20 roll which would make perception 21 if you think that would be more appropriate)
“Oh, hello Molly. What do you have here? (looks as the bloody paper. Is it a ships manifest, or something else?) Thank you.”
It is a ship's manifest. But the name of the ship and most of the items are blotted with blood. The few you can read are regular supplies except for a dozen containers of saffron. Who knows what else is on this ship.
Upon hearing the word Saffron mentioned Molly's inquisitive nature sparked to life, though her understanding of the words danced on the edge of her bizarre world. "Was ist das, Saffron?" Molly queried with a cocked head, her words a curious mix of innocence and creeping dread. "Was are wir doing hier on this Schiff, und why bist du so interested in these Dinge?" Her question hung in the dank air, her eyes momentarily reflecting a flicker of genuine confusion before slipping back into her usual unhinged demeanor.
"Is das ein Spiel or something much darker?" she continued, her tone a sinister serenade, as she inadvertently flicked a speck of blood from the manifest, watching it stain the dock's wood. "Ich bin so bored, dieses waiting and sneaking... and the Kätzchen has Flöhe," she whispered conspiratorially, eyeing Steelclaw in annoyance as she scratched at the back of her neck and sniffed at her armpits.
Her gaze then drifted back to Lace, waiting for an explanation or perhaps a diversion from the tedium, her thoughts a swirling maelstrom that occasionally broke the surface with a clarity unsettling in its sharpness. "Tell mich, Lace, about dieses Saffron, before ich lose my mind more als usual." Molly hissed, her voice a blend of jest and jeopardy, as she shuffled closer, her movements echoing the erratic dance of the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns along the docks.
"Saffron is a spice, Molly. There was a song with the lyrics "I'm just mad about Saffron", I forget the rest. Let me think..."
Investigation 23 to remember anymore about Saffron. Things she'd be looking for: how big are the containers on the manifest? Salt shaker size? Barrels? Is that normal for shipments of Saffron? Where is it from? Anything else, like opium or similar goods, come from those places? The rest of the lyrics?
Lace tells the group what she remembers abouit Saffron.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQNBQI3UDag
Then she looks at the page. Are the letters fading and dissolving where the blood is wet? If not, the ink may be colorfast and maybe the blood could be rinsed off at least a little, with water.
Saffron is among the most expensive of spices. The containers vary depending on how much is being transported and from how far away. Saffron originated from the center of the continent but now can be found in any corner, so without examining the shipping containers you wouldn't be able to tell. A cheap drug that shares it nickname with that of a coin, 'Silver,' is also sometimes shipped along with Saffron that originates from the central, northern, or western parts of the continent.
The parchment of the manifest is saturated with thick dark blood, so much so that your guess is it's either from more than one person, or if from a lone person that individual is no more. There's no reason getting mad at Molly as done is done, and who knows if she even had anything to do with it being bathed in blood.
"What did you see on the ship Molly? Any guards? Any sailors?" smithy asks Molly, not to happy with the Bloody manifest but (trying) not to blame Molly for it. "A couple of cases of Saffron should at least get us a pretty penny than, although I'm not sure how we will get it off the ship. At least not with the 4 of us I think"
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
A lone crewman can be seen on deck illuminated by the lantern he carries, making his patrols in a lazy circuit aft to starboard, bow to port. There are few if any present on the docks, either coming from or going to their respective ships. The silence of the night is disturbed only by the sound of a cage creaking as it gently swings from a chain hung by a post above one of the docks, it's lone occupant a skeleton wearing some scraps of cloth. Several crows hop and skitter about in short flights landing here and there, not bothering the skeleton much having picked it clean days ago.
Under the hushed veil of night at the docks, the Rhinemaiden lingered slightly apart, her silhouette ghostly against the backdrop of swaying ships. Her companions' murmurs about saffron swirled through the air, yet the words twisted into enigmatic wisps before they could settle in Molly's mind.
"Saffron, ist das ein Gewürz?" she murmured nearly unintelligibly from her blood-stained lips. The explanations from Lace seemed to drift through Molly like sea mist, her grasp on their mundane value of saffron as fleeting as shadows at dusk.
As Smithy probed about her observations aboard the ship, Molly's response dripped with eerie detachment. "Ich habe gesehen... Holzdecks, Segel, und lanterns," she recounted, her voice threading through the dark like the whisper of the damned. "Viele verschlossene Kisten und barrels. The scents of tobacco, Zucker, spirits like rum und brandy, und flour," each detail emerging as though recited from a ghostly ledger.
When pressed about the presence of sailors and guards, Molly's eyes narrowed into a malevolent glare, her fingers fluttering like bats disturbed from their roost not unlike how a child might reply to the question of how old she is. "Natürlich, there are sailors und guards," she scoffed, her tone spiked with scorn for the apparent naivety of her comrades.
Then a conspiratorial hush suddenly fell over Molly as her voice dropped to a sinister whisper. "Ah, aber da ist noch more," Molly intoned, her voice a chilling mixture of dread and delight. "Eine jämmernde geisterschrei tót sea elfe, die Saraphina genannt wird, haunts the Unterdecks. Sie war mit unheimlichen Ketten gefesselt, um sie zu halten, yearning for her opalescent conch zurück." Mad Molly's words twined through the darkness, eerie and enthralling as she spun a tale real or imagined... one could not tell.
Molly leaned even closer to Lace, a mischievous glint in her luminous eyes as she continued, "Die Hübsche hat mir geflüstert, durch Drusilla, through the creaks of the ship, through the sighs of the sea. That one, sie ist überhaupt nicht glücklich... but now, perhaps she is." The Rhinemaiden's laughter then trickled out, a sound as unsettling as the moans of the ship, hinting at a madness veiled thinly by her cryptic words.
Her eyes, wide and gleaming with a feral glow, darted across the faces of her companions, inviting them into her twisted reality. "Sie seeks vengeance or perhaps redemption – who can say? Aber sie verfolgt das Schiff, a phantom from salt and sorrow."
Lace listens carefully to Molly's tale.
Insight 23 (nat 20) to deduce how much of Molly's report is madness, and how to translate from context, given Lace's limited mastery of Deutsche is mostly centered around food.
"Alright, tobacco, rum, brandy, flour... I think Smithy was wondering where the guards & sailors were, so we can avoid them.
Wait? A sea elf named Saraphina? Haunting phantom? Seeks revenge or redemption, and an opalescent conch? Molly, are you saying they're holding an elfmaid hostage, or they've bound a spirit to the ship?"
Molly is quite mad. How can you trust anything she says... although she did produce a bloody manifest which had to come from somewhere. Even those lost in the depths of madness are prone to jest from time to time. The trick is trying to sort out the madness from how she perceives reality.
(You do sense a playful mood underlying her madness but that could just be because she is out and about on a 'mission' instead of chasing rats in a tavern, or how she deals with her grief over the loss of Biscotti.)
Smithy listens to Lace's translation and doesn't make much sense of it.
"Well I guess we should get a bit closer to see if we can get on the ship, shall we?" he asks Lace as he doesn't see another way of discovering much else from here.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Second insight roll for the Disadvantage = 12
Does that make it?
That's the DM's call, lol, I'm rather curious myself, even I don't know! ;)
Molly's refusal to answer your follow up questions (#191) suggests some of it might be made up, or at the very least embellished.
In the oppressive darkness of the dockside, where shadows seemed to breathe and the air tasted of salt and secrets, Molly stood like a wraith among her companions. Her ethereal figure, draped in the night's embrace, was both a specter of dread and an enigma wrapped in madness.
As Lace and Smithy pondered her cryptic revelations planning their next move, Molly's features stretched into a grotesque grin, her fangs glinting like daggers under the scant moonlight. Her laughter, a chilling, girlish titter, broke the heavy silence as she pulled the doll Drusilla close, her ear bent to its whispered secrets.
"Ah, yes," she hissed with unnerving clarity, each syllable sharply enunciated as if carved from the cold night air itself. "Drusilla whispers to me to say... do step a bit closer, dear friends... venture first into the belly of the beast! You first, you first, you first!" Her honey sweet voice was crystalline and carried with it an undertone of macabre delight, ringing like a solitary church bell echoing through a deserted chapel. It was an invitation—or a dare—to partake in a dance with doom itself, spoken with a clarity so stark it bordered on the supernatural.
Around them, the creak of the ships and the occasional distant shout of a sailor only added to the scene's gothic horror, each sound a note in the symphony of the night's eerie chorus. Molly's, playful yet perilous, promised both danger and discovery as they edged closer to the shadow-shrouded ship that might hold more than just cargo.
Eventually Steelclaw returns from scouting to the group and looks at them "I didn't see anything..." he said gritting his teeth at the lack of paying attention to the surroundings. His face still reflecting the sorrow from the loss of a close friend.
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
Meanwhile, back in the cusp of passion and debauchery, Fist's run into a problem, or two actually. First is the damn wizard getting uppity. If he didn't know fer a fact his punch would kill the fool on impact, he'd of decked 'im right there and then.
Now Fyn's acting up! 'Boy's usually cool on the face 'o seductin'. But now, fer one reason or another, the lad can't pull it off. So Fist improvises. Seeing 'Sbestos fail miserably in gaining entry, the big man wraps his arm around the buxom orc, pulling her back. "'Tis nae gonna work, lad. This particul'r man likes 'em elven... and male. Swing 'round the corner n' gimme a wood elf boy to hang off me arm. 'Might do the trick... Ach. But lose the top when ya do." He points to the brazier.