[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/253784f7-b755-41ef-b248-616664056bb6.png[/img][/center] Misty day. Dangerous day. Turn a corner. Find a gang. Get stabbed. Tauga had ways of seeing around corners. Her tendrils splayed into the surrounding streets, tracing the warm taste of loitering bodies. Some of them were neither warm, nor loitering. A handful of her loyalists were still reporting the bloodthirsty and the missing to the Rotfly Watch, for what it was worth. Safety danced elusively through the City, flickering away on the breeze and leaving knives in its wake. The only reliably empty roads were those she made herself. This was not one of them. Keriss had cleared the streets leading to Westwagon Gate at Tauga's request, this time without her supervision. She'd look back later to see if the work had been done safely enough for her tastes. For now, and judging by the tense, wary vagrants that were milling on the road she herself roamed, it looked like they'd been pushed out of that area with some success. More resistance in Tauga's way. She hardly noticed. Seething, rustling hair followed her and her Rotflies, the vast body of Amber supporting a wheeled platform on its back, loaded with fearful eyes and tightly held children. The squadron flanking her moved at a practiced jog to match Tauga's own inexhaustible stamina, and had quickly learned to trust her pace, even when she was running at an unmoving obstacle. The street party quietened before she was even in view through the mist. The aura of Sin was powerful, but within the roaming grip of the Blowfly's tentacles, for the brief and lucky seconds when Tauga was close, Order was stronger. Fearful to give up the thrill of the madness, she felt their hands move to fists and spiked clubs. Her own hands slid Help's scalpel from its sheath. They signalled the Watch to a sprint. She saw the whites of their eyes. Tauga's blade flicked out across the man's belly, twisted, arced back again in a blink of gleaming black. She thrust herself past his thigh, a shove of her oh-so-small hain palm casting him aside for the Rotflies to jump over. The others began to run. They didn't run fast enough. She leapt with both feet, smashed a woman's face with her boots in the air, landed on it and moved on. The rest of the street was clear, but for the drunk and the dead. Her convoy rolled on. Westwagon Gate was empty, as expected. Tauga stepped aside, the squad dividing in two without orders, half continuing the escort. As they secured the platform to waiting oxen, Amber slunk out from below and curled up in Tauga's pocket, all two tonnes of it. "Where are we going?" asked a human voice from the huddle, thin and very young. [colour=antiquewhite]"Out,"[/colour] answered the masked figure without thinking, motioning her troops to start the next run. [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]Some time ago.[/i] The boots of the Blowfly made soft clacks on the cobbled road as she moved, echoed by four others and the melodic hoot of Pumps. Far from the usual cracking retort of a sprint leading the loping black masks of the Watch. No, Tauga would do this slowly. She was determined to do that. [colour=antiquewhite][i]No need to scare them off. We're not here to kill.[/i][/colour] This was a time and place to be happy. The celebration of the return of Énas Amartia was in its second... Third week. Celebrations were nice. Tauga's goggles flicked out over the faces of the men and women who glanced at her and the Rotflies at her side, taking knowing looks before slinking into the shadows as if it was on their way. [colour=antiquewhite][i]Festivals are good.[/i][/colour] It was a dream come true, really. The God-Emperor had returned to his beloved City. The whitemasks had been conquered, enslaved and brought home single-handed. Food was plentiful and wine ran freely, and every day was a carnival. [colour=antiquewhite][i]It's nice. It'll just keep on getting better. Accidents happen at carnivals, like they always did.[/i][/colour] Pumps fluted a high note at a cluster of murmuring drinkers and Tauga's hand flicked to her khopesh. [colour=antiquewhite][i]Things are back to the way they're meant to be.[/i][/colour] Coloured lanterns ahead bobbed in a breeze, the massive bonfire ahead shining. The crowd closed up again in the darkness behind them. Oyur tapped Tauga's shoulder and requested permission to light a torch. Tauga nodded and watched her jog to one side, following her with her tendrils, the crowd parting only minimally for the Rotfly alone. She came back. Tauga exhaled. Etti shrugged his hefty Tedar shoulders restlessly. The three of them left the light of the fire. The sound of revelry was still distinctly close. A wandering tentacle picked up the source of the scent they were looking for nearby and they moved in. Eleven revellers were standing in a semicircle facing them. Their eyes were clear and without shame. At their feet, stripped and tied and bleeding from the face, was another Rotfly. Hair matted with blood and oil. Oil everywhere, puddled in the road. The bonfire. They'd been feeding it all night. It was far too large. Pumps whistled happily. Tauga lunged, her scalpel flying from its sheath, the Rotflies moving to back her. At least three of the culprits drew swords of their own and Tauga forced her way through their number, splitting the group to single them out. They'd avoided her swings, but Etti had been a trained soldier and pressed into them as they moved, wounding one and killing another as Oyur flanked a man with a sword. Obsidian sickles scythed out, Oyur ducked under a slash and Tauga opened the man's side. They still weren't running. Oyur's long-honed instincts drove her back into the fray and Tauga followed the swordswoman's lead. The torch flashed, pressing them back, and Tauga moved, her footwork clumsy but fast. Oyur stepped into the panic she made and picked off revellers with measured blows. Wounded fell beside the dead and more came up. Tauga felt Etti being pressed further away from them as he fought, hulking, fast, outnumbered. Oyur's torch wasn't alone. Unnoticed, the carnival had grown louder. Had moved closer. Around them, the streets were being blocked. The masked figure flicked a pocket in her shoulder and threw Amber at the closest part of the mob, the vast fox-tail exploding into the mass of knives and bared teeth, but the maddened people of Xerxes had planned for the Blowfly's antics, and Amber recoiled at their torches, unable to leap into melee. A flung rock hit Etti's eye and he took a shoulder wound. Everywhere was people- Crushing press of muscle and hate with lethal intent, swarming over their blows. [i]Crash.[/i] Screams. [i]Crash.[/i] The Bludgeon took off, underside painted with blood. An instant later, another side of the crowd was pulped. Madness reigned. Tauga grabbed Oyur by the waist and leapt into the sky, Amber flowing around her ankle and around them like a cloak, scooping up Pumps as it moved. The noise was left behind in a rush of cold air. She could hear Oyur's heart pounding through her mask. She could see the pyre below. She could taste oil. [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]Moments later.[/i] Tauga set them down by the outer wall of the barracks and Amber compressed back into a niche in her suit. Oyur took a moment to regain her balance; She'd never flown before. "Sir?" The hain inclined her goggled face towards Oyur and said nothing. "Tauga?" A faint sound of breathing. Behind the mask, Oyur couldn't tell if Tauga's eyes were open, but she had her doubts. [colour=antiquewhite]"You know what you saw. Report that to Sen and tell him to put the city into lockdown. Scatter that festival. If there are leaders, have them burned. Use everyone you can. Stick together."[/colour] She motioned with her beak. [colour=antiquewhite]"Go. I'll join you soon."[/colour] Oyur nodded, and sharply executed the order. Tauga felt her pass out of sight, and slumped heavily against the wall. Pumps made frightened and concerned cooing sounds, which she readily ignored. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to bang her head against the brickwork. [colour=antiquewhite]"Everything,"[/colour] she began, [colour=antiquewhite]"is [i]fine.[/i]"[/colour] [colour=antiquewhite]"The return of Énas Amartia is a glorious thing. This is all under his control, and his plans for Xerxes are what's best for everyone."[/colour] Bang, bang, bang. [colour=antiquewhite]"The City is prosperous and its people are happy and healthy. If something seems wrong, that's just my fault."[/colour] Bang. [colour=antiquewhite]"I'm just not working hard enough."[/colour] Bang. [colour=antiquewhite]"Fuck."[/colour] A scraping noise of boots on cobble as she felt herself slide down the wall, lying almost prone in the alley. [colour=antiquewhite]"Fuu-uuu-uck."[/colour] Tauga's scabbard dangled from its strap and rested on the street. She had no idea how to use it. Her recruits were better fighters than she was, and tonight two more of them had died at her hands. Bang. Her fault. Oh, and some forty sin cultists. Bang. Every morning, the funeral pyres burned unnoticed with the bodies of those who died in the dark carnival. Bang. On the city outskirts, her loyal slaves were on the verge of revolt and nobody had the least idea why. Bang. Breathe. She pushed herself to her feet. [colour=antiquewhite]"Guess I might as well stick to the fuckin' hammer from now on,"[/colour] Tauga mumbled, rolling her wrists. [colour=antiquewhite]"Go home, Pumps. Tonight's gonna be messy."[/colour] The sweetheart moaned softly, gripped the back of her head, and obediently ballooned off. Somebody had pissed in the street and Tauga saw herself reflected in the puddle as she walked past. The Blowfly, cold and heartless and unstoppable. Business as usual. She'd figure something out. As always. [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]The present.[/i] Tauga had a room. It was high in the citadel Eye, and it was accessible from the sky alone. It surprised her little that this palace responded to the touch of her tentacles. She could open doors without even looking at them, reveal hidden compartments and chutes and peepholes and caches of weapons carved from the whatever it is that made up the uncanny pyramid. It was not secret knowledge that the Eye of Cipher had been of Yah Vuh before it was of the Énas, though the latter had made it his own. Drifting through the circular hatch that opened before her, suspended from the Ophanim like a marionette, Tauga landed on her toes, stumbled, and fell chest-first on her bunk. Clumsily flicked the latches of her mask and left it to one side. No, as it happened, the Blowfly was not inexhaustible. She could only sprint and fight and train for so many days without sleep. The portal slid closed, its interior side translucent, a one-way window. Pumps was whistling and spinning his usual whirligig dance now that she was finally back, missing a beat every now and again ever since Keriss had at him. Tauga mumbled something, but the sweetheart stopped only long enough to wrap its arms around her neck in a cool hug. She felt nothing. All she could feel was tired and tense. It was something about coming back to find Pumps, coming back from a torn city, mad and maddening, to- A small, comfortable room in dim light, completely alone but for a creature that was utterly unaware of the Hell developing below, and would scream if it knew even a hundredth part of it. [i][colour=antiquewhite]This... contrast. It's like a dream. Bad, sick dream.[/colour][/i] That wasn't right, either. [colour=antiquewhite][i]Surreal. That's it. Surreal and lonely enough to let me think that everything [/i]else[i] is a dream...[/i][/colour] Tauga didn't notice herself tumble softly into sleep. When her eyes snapped open, the nightmare began. Motionless and utterly silent, Heartworm filled a dark room with crossed limbs of bone white, vast grey visor eyeless and staring. Tauga's heart stopped- She jerked. Her tentacles writhed everywhere and not a single one ever touched the horrorsome deity, never winced away to warn her it was there, a towering sensory void that dwarved her and threatened to swallow her whole. Pumps slept soundly. [i]It[/i] did not move. Not even to breathe. [i]It[/i] loomed like a hallucination at the foot of the bed. [color=f6989d][i]Despite Tauga's extensive failure, she will not be terminated yet.[/i][/color] Tauga didn't realise that the words had been spoken aloud until the shock began to boil away, and after that, the fear. What was left of her was hollow and apathetic, a broken dream that no longer seemed to be from her perspective. She'd spoken to God before without hurt- But then, that had been on neutral terms. [color=f6989d]"While prior loyalties to a dead society have obfuscated attempts to predict your behaviour, the results of the project are not unfavourable. Your presence has stimulated a significant change to the course of events. The survival of Xerxian culture in diaspora can be used as a mechanism to spread arksynth technology quickly across the northern hemisphere."[/color] Heartworm's left limb extended across the length of the chamber, a slender, pale arm adorned with iridescent cloven hoof below the wrist. [color=f6989d]"Your mission continues."[/color] Heartworm's bladed fingertips moved independently over a shallow circular indent in the wall, tracing a command symbol. The organic shapes came alive at its touch. That side of the room shivered and slid away, its organic shapes coming apart as a jigsaw, turning and realigning with others that settled into an entirely new shape with frames, bowls, and faint light nodes over a workbench. The hoof split apart and a familiar grey tube fell from it. Working with shimmering claws and hypodermics, and tentacles that extended from its core, Heartworm spilled liquid arksynth into a basin and began twisting and dividing it, bathing it in choking aromatic fluids and stretching it into ribbons as it grew. It made the work look easy, graceful- Effortless. The task Tauga had ignored for months was done in moments. Even when Heartworm finished Tauga's simple laboratory, its hand remained outstretched in the dark of night, body balanced perfectly on the other limb. [color=f6989d]"Second attempt. You will learn quickly, manufacture any substance or mechanism you find of use, disseminate this knowledge among your followers. War is coming. Mobilise."[/color] The hand panned aside to hover over Pumps, asleep beside Tauga. The sweetheart began to stir awake, eyes flickering open, letting off only a faint whistle at the disturbance. [colour=f6989d]"This one will continue to assist you."[/colour] Bismuth claws fell in a measured arc, cutting open the sweetheart from head to belly, slicing through the neural cortex. Tauga felt nothing, said nothing. Delicately, Heartworm excised and removed several threads of deep red tissue from the body, laid them out on the desk. [color=f6989d]"To be consumed with caution."[/color] The hand retracted. Silence in the dark once more. Tauga just stared. The voice came again. [color=f6989d]"You may find it [i]helpful,[/i] Tauga."[/color] Then Heartworm slit a dark passage into reality, slid through it and was gone. Silence. Hours and hours of silence. Tauga didn't notice her muscles aching with stiffness. She still hadn't moved. Very slowly, dawn began to leak into the room. Tauga felt herself pull away from the bunk and reach over to where she'd left a bowl of water, and drank hoarse gulps. She tried to sleep again, and succeeded, though her life seemed no different when she woke up a few hours later. She chewed lamely at some dried fish and stretched her calves. Noonday light fell onto motes of dust in a stream that came nearly to her toes. She stopped thinking in words, or counting time in moments. Eventually, Tauga pulled herself to her feet and over to the benchtop. Pumps' carcass smelled faintly like an abattoir, only sweeter. Hesitantly prodding the strips of flesh left for her by Heartworm, she lifted it and put it on her tongue. It tasted of sugar. Tauga swallowed. Very quickly, she came to understand. [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]Days later.[/i] Alien sounds rasped around Tauga's head. Every now and again she realised that the clamour was nothing less than her own pounding heart and rattling breath, thick, crackling gasps like a dying animal. Then she'd take a few more steps, forget, and realise again. Her back slouched forwards, and her arms hung, spasming, fingers twitching. Through darkly bloodshot eyes she stared at the ground and the sky as she walked, each step requiring several seconds of work. Only her tentacles guided her way, semiautonomous as they were. The memories were continuous and clear as glass, but her ability to recall them had collapsed as she came down. Images and words floated through her brain unbidden. [i]It was broad daylight when she descended, letting herself drop effortlessly to her feet on the deck of the ship. Sunshades and marquees had been erected above the wooden slats and rugs had been laid down on them. Her tentacles expanded into the pleasure barge, tasting everything, scanning it all, driving a thrill of precognitive terror into the naked nobles, their slaves, their kidnapped toys. In the moment it took to draw her khopesh, she locked eyes with the bejeweled captain spread-eagle on the pillows before her.[/i] [colour=antiquewhite]'My ship now,'[/colour] [i]she mouthed, opening her pockets as she blurred into the mess of bodies.[/i] One of Tauga's legs forgot how to walk and she tripped on air. By miracle alone did she pull herself back to her feet, swaying. [i]What the hain Victor saw as he moved from the shadows was not pleasant. With her mask off, the Blowfly's eyes could be seen, bloodred, the thin skin encircling them pulled taut as they sulked back into Tauga's skull. The black goggles of her mask were almost more human. He knew she was there, and she knew he knew. It was part of her game. Two of his sisters had already died this way. That much was clear to him, now that he saw himself facing the same fate. He did not fear death. Only reviled the means and purpose through which it should come. He bared his steel. If anything, it was, at least, a chance for him to spite the Jvanic Entity and all its malcreations. Minutes later, the Blowfly wrenched her hammer from what was left of the Victor's skull. Her muscles burned, an almost pleasant sensation she didn't really feel. The new training regimen was suiting her well.[/i] From the waist up, Tauga was slowly losing balance, her path meandering left and right as she vainly tried to restore her balance. This time she didn't get up when she fell. Lying there, she could hear voices coming closer. They were dimmer and further than the memories. [i]There were nine of them. Scholars, a few, and the rest artisans, craftsmen. Slaves, all, a distinction that had become arbitrary to the Blowfly lately. Slave or no, she could do whatever she pleased. Before them was a long table, and on that table was makeshift equipment, bowls, pegs, knives, scoops. Buckets of slop, raw meat and fruit. Powders and crushed leaves. Cups of arksynth. Nine tiny specks of red flesh. [colour=antiquewhite]"Sit. Listen."[/colour] The slaves obeyed immediately. [colour=antiquewhite]"I'm gonna teach you how to use it and make more of it. You're gonna figure it out and then move to the palace, where you'll fuck around with it as I say until I find a ship to put you on to get you the fuck out of here. Got it?"[/colour] They nodded. One of them nodded hesitantly. Tauga caught her eye, lifted her by the throat and hurled her from the palace window, where she screamed until the ophan's razor cord caught her in midair. The Blowfly picked up her share of the sweetmeat and put it on her tongue. Waste not. [colour=antiquewhite]"Eat this,"[/colour] she said. They did.[/i] [colour=antiquewhite][i]"Now we understand each other. If you so much as blink at me the wrong way, you'll join[/i] her.[i]"[/i][/colour] [i]Now, with the checks in place, the learning could begin.[/i] Someone was lifting Tauga by the shoulders; She tried to resist, couldn't. One of the voices was familiar. [i]Tonight had been the first time the Rotfly Watch had spoken to her in days. The Blowfly didn't walk anywhere now, only flew. Nobody knew her plans. Not even Sen. "Why are we doing this?" asked the captain, for the fifth time. No response from the figure in the suit, who was now smashing wine barrels with her hammer. Quickly and systematically, without wasting time on a response. Sen continued his own task, standing guard with the rest of the squadron as the slaves crushed boxes of fruit. "No matter how much we spoil, the Énas will just make more. He visits these storehouses often. There's no way you can starve the dark carnival out of existence." Tauga replied by snatching the torch out of Sen's hand as carts of large, sealed jars arrived from the palace. Between her and the slaves, the clear, sharply aromatic liquid within was soon dumped onto the stores. Sen sniffed. Faintly like vinegar, only sweeter. The militiamen and slaves were motioned out of the storehouse. Tauga hung back only long enough to toss Sen's torch into the building. Immediately, the soaked straw flooring flashed alight. The whole structure was ablaze in moments. [color=antiquewhite]"What fucking storehouse,"[/color] muttered Tauga, and disappeared into the night sky.[/i] Sen stopped calling Tauga's name; Her eyes were focusing on him but she clearly wasn't capable of speech yet. After a brisk exchange with the hain alongside him, they decided she was safe to move. He lifted the young beakie in his arms, and began a steady walk back to the barracks, flanked by his detachment. She was light. So, so light. [i]The dark carnival seethed and roared below. Houses had been burned just to make room for some of the larger... Festivities. Dances that turned into orgies. Boxing rings that became brawls. Games that became lynch mobs for the loser. Despite everything, the madness had grown. Bonfires dotted Xerxes. As the Blowfly began to descend, the ophan cords hummed a familiar dirge of scythed air. The Bludgeons careened into the mass of people, ophanim scraping sparks from roads that quickly soaked in blood. A single sweeping movement blew each pyre apart in a flare of light and embers. Back and forth the iron spheres passed over the festival grounds, crushing. Bodies flew, bones crunched. When the survivors scattered in the streets, Tauga ended her slaughter. She was splattered. Mangled people lay everywhere, some still moaning. That would scare the cultists off for a day or two, maybe. Precious hours to move men and supplies safely through the City. And then they'd be back. She hadn't even dented them.[/i] "Oh, Tauga," sighed Sen, setting down his general on a stretcher. The Rotfly Watch clustered around, filling the barracks, waking their comrades just for a glimpse of what had become of their Blowfly. "You poor kid." Only faint murmurs stirred the militia. [i]Broken-hearted Tauga,[/i] they whispered. [i]The girl without a soul.[/i] [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]A few days on.[/i] Light dazzled over the surface of Xerxes' harbour. The sun still shone a little too brightly for Tauga's taste, though she was recovering fast. The black goggles on her flight mask would resolve that much, once she could wear it without choking on her own breath again. As it was, she was walking around with her beak slightly open all the time to get enough air. It made her look like an angry drunk. She supposed she had been. Mako and Ruthar were overseeing the last preparations before the ship cast off. Most of the crates and all of the refugees had been loaded; What remained were a few non-essentials, mostly trading materials that could hopefully be used to buy passage in distant lands. It was all being taken below deck, but for the odd, yellowish, mushroom-like rig that was being grown at the side of the ship. That needed to stay in sunlight. It was worth more than half of the rest of the supplies put together, if it worked. The only ones that remained were a few Rotflies standing guard on the dock before they left their home and army behind. Sen shouted something, which Ruthar confirmed. Tauga realised that the masked ex-militiamen were not the only ones left, and, shortly afterwards, that she was being approached. She felt them walk towards her with her tendrils, not raising her head until they were close. [colour=antiquewhite]"Oyur,"[/colour] she mumbled. [colour=antiquewhite]"Erjang. You've decided?"[/colour] It was Erjang, the tattooed elder, who answered. "North," she said firmly. "They say it's populated, and the winds are good. Most of the ships are sailing that way." Tauga nodded. [colour=antiquewhite]"Remember what I said about the... Crystal place."[/colour] Words to fill the gap. Of course they would remember. "We're here to say goodbye," she continued. "And thank you, Blowfly." Tauga's eyes widened, palms rising a little. [colour=antiquewhite]"Oh."[/colour] It hadn't been something she'd expected to hear. Erjang raised her eyebrows, then laughed softly. "I guess that's all there is to it." She turned and gazed back on the fleet of stolen and repurposed vessels, their inhabitants protected from the new Xerxes at such cost. "We do owe you, you know. More than you think. We might have watched the City die, but the People, the [i]real[/i] City, well." The elder stretched her time-worn muscles and grinned, despite everything. Tauga shrugged limply. Oyur shuffled, as if making a decision, then stepped up and wrapped her arms around Tauga, bending her knees to reach head head. "Thanks, Tauga. We won't... We'll never forget. What you stood for." Tauga tried to shrug, and couldn't. She lifted her beak a little, closed it in a hainish kind of smile. She guessed that was appropriate. Oyur let her go, leaned back, took a good look at her. "And... I'm sorry. For..." [color=antiquewhite]"Yeah, I know,"[/color] said Tauga lamely. [colour=antiquewhite]"Me."[/colour] Oyur choked a little, pressed her lips together behind her bandanna, stood to attention. Saluted her general one last time. Tauga nodded firmly. Without further trivialities, she turned and escorted Erjang back to the ship. Tauga sighed. By the time Sen stepped up to her for orders, she'd fitted the Blowfly mask back on her face. Turning, she could see the reignited fires of the City, the dark carnival unending, just as the Énas Amartia had promised. Only now with no one sane left to save. Stretch. [colour=antiquewhite]"Ready for another round in Hell, Sen?"[/colour] she said without humour. "Sir," replied the captain. Tauga stepped into the darkness of the streets, leaving the light of fresh dawn behind her. [color=antiquewhite][i]No one left to save.[/i][/color] That wasn't true. She was Xerxes, and Xerxes was her. And though the Blowfly was long past saving, well. She'd fight anyway. [hider=literally never been this rushed] Tauga is deeply stressed by the developments in Xerxes as her loyalty to Amartia clashes with her attempts to rebuild the city. She sets in motion a plan to gather, supply and protect sane refugees until they can sail to safer lands. As the plan continues, Heartworm reappears, comments on her failure to experiment with arksynth as was her true mission, and leaves her to try again, harvesting Pumps the sweetheart before it does so. Tauga goes on a days-long sweetmeat binge, suppressing her cognitive dissonance, during which her goals remain roughly intact but her methods become far more brutal. Sen finds her as she's coming down, and together they watch the refugee ships set sail. Tauga and a fairly large portion of the Rotfly Watch refuse to leave Xerxes. Bits of this post happen both before and after Tauga meets Keriss. -------start-------- Tauga 23 Khookies Level Four -7 to level five -10 to level six -2 to teach the Xerxian refugees how to replicate arksynth -2 to develop arksynth stills for producing relatively pure methanol/ethanol solutions from plant material -2 to develop arksynth devices that use sunlight and plant material to produce vitamin supplements for long maritime journeys [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/campaigns/164]Relevant rolls[/url] 0 Khookies remaining Plus probably another 10 [b]Tauga 10 Khookies Level Six[/b] -------- [/hider]