[center][h1][b][u]Carnelian[/u][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] Carn frowned. Less than a hundred men. Some of them armed only with scythes, pitchforks, and pickaxes. This was his army. He and Lothar had gone from village to village, delivering rousing speeches and telling them of the victory at Thyma. Not all had welcomed the news. Some had chased him out. One chieftain had attempted to capture him with the intention of selling him out to the Ketrefans. After seeing him cut down the chieftain and his guards with unnatural prowess, that had been enough to convince the locals there was something divine about him, and so they pledged themselves to his cause. But not all of them were fighters. And in the end, his ‘army’ amounted to maybe eighty men at most. Eighty men against… who knows how many? Hundreds? Thousands? The last attempt to take down Ketrefa had occurred centuries ago, and accounts differed as to the numbers deployed by both sides. Some stories portrayed Ketrefa as an unstoppable force with numbers beyond counting swarming over an outnumbered and under-equipped band of farmers. Other tales portrayed them as a small elite warband that took on a foe several times their number, and prevailed. What he did know was that Ketrefa’s warriors were trained, and even their most junior soldier was better-equipped than the best-armed man in his own paltry force. “We need more weapons. And armour…” he whispered during a meeting in the chieftain’s longhouse. “And men,” added Yarwick, the Chieftain of Thyma. “You will need to go further,” Lothar insisted. “Find more faithful.” “And leave our homes undefended?” Yarwick demanded. “They’ll come here first. If we’re on the other side of the Highlands making speeches and training men, we can’t protect our people. They’ll kill everyone, just to set an example, and then they’ll come after us.” Carn sighed. “We’ll need to look elsewhere,” he decided. “But not too far. Any village that pledges fealty to us will expect our protection. If too many swear themselves to us at this stage, we’ll spread ourselves thin trying to defend them all. In the meantime, stockpile anything that might serve as armour or a decent weapon.” [hr] “Donnie, I dunno what I was thinkin’. Oudda all the places fate takes me, she dumps me on my ass in tha middle a’ some down-on-its-luck, backwater village. Ain’t nobody buyin’ my stuff ‘ere!” “Cut-my-own-throat” Jimmy the Peddler, so named for his business practices, rested his chin on his propped-up hand in defeat as he gazed out across the empty marketplace. Next to his improvised stall was the local cabbage peddler, Donnie Crumb, guarding his cart with equal disappointment smeared across his face. “Tell me about it, Ain’t sold a single cabbage, I ain’t,” Donnie sulked back. “Is like they don’t even want ‘em. Sure, there’s talk’a war ‘n all, but since when did that stop cabbage bid’niss, huh? Since when?” “You tell ‘em, kehd, you tell ‘em.” Some women came running past carrying supplies, catching both their eyes. “Heh-hey! You two lovelies needin’ some fancy trinkets for the husband back home?! We got a special deal in these terrible times! Just for you aaaaand they’re gone, ain’t they?” “They’re gone.” Jimmy slammed his fist into his stall table. “We get no respect around ‘ere, kehd. Ain’t nobody lookin’ out for the lil’ man no more. Breaks my damn heart, it do.” “It do, it do.” An entourage of men in armour approached from the opposite end of the marketplace, once more snatching up their attention. Donnie gave a whistle. “What’chu bettin’ they’re here to take our stuff?” “I bet you a copper drakma they’re here t’ -buy- our stuff!” Jimmy challenged and straightened himself up, gesturing widely to his shiny trinkets and thingy-magiggs. “Gentlemen - welcome to my humble lil’ store! Take your time lookin’ around - we’s got a very special deal today, only for our boys on the front.” Donnie rolled his eyes with a smirk. [hr] The leader of the group was clad in bronze, with a hood pulled up over his head. Those accompanying him wore mismatched assortments of boiled leather and more bronze. There was also a robed figure, who seemed to be some sort of priest. Carn pulled his hood down, to reveal his silver hair and violet eyes, as his gaze shifted over to the merchant who had called out to him. One of the men whispered something into his ear. Carn listened with a serious expression on his face, then looked back to the merchant, and began to approach. A light smile appeared on his face. “Is that so?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you’d have anything that might help me win a war?” Jimmy smacked his hands together and rubbed them schemingly. “Ho-ho-ho, do I?” He ducked down behind his stall and came back up with a bejeweled ceremonial axe fashioned from copper - its edge was speckled with quartz and its shaft was a long cylinder of smooth ashwood. The thin blade, however, looked awfully inconvenient in battle, being thin and attached to the shaft with only a thin copper rod. Jimmy softly smoothed his fingers across the metal and spoke, “This here’s my most prized possession - worthy only of a good customer, such as yaself. Neckbane ‘ere’s killed hundreds - if not thousands - ‘n legends say is blessed by the lady ‘erself! The mighty girl’a fire, Evandra. For you, though, I’ll cut my own throat - a hundred drakmas and she’s yours, kehd!” Lothar frowned. “You’re speaking to Carnelian, the Chosen of Cadien, not some mere ‘kid.’ Show some respect.” Carn, meanwhile, drew his sword, and casually held it so that the silvery steel shimmered in the sunlight. “I have a blessed blade of my own,” he said rather drily. “I don’t suppose you have anything else?” Jimmy gasped. “Chosen a’ Cadien?!” He tossed the axe over his shoulder into a pile of junk behind him, making a ruckus. “Well, why didn’ ya say so? Don’ wanna sell crap t’ such an important customer! Here, check this out…” He ducked under the counter again and, with effort, hauled up a large, round shield of bronze-reinforced wood, beautifully painted with a red dragon of a white background. “This ‘ere, this is my most prized p’ssession, ‘n I want you to know, I ain’t ever shown this to anyone else - but you, you’re special, my friend, so this ‘ere, is fa’ you. Only one fifty - cutting my own throat here for ya, come on.” Carn shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he said, sliding his sword back into its sheathe. Jimmy let out a “prrt” and put the shield down. “A’right, a’right, a’right - you, mista’, ‘re obviously lookin’ for the [i]special[/i] goods.” With that, he turned around, circling behind the pile of junk at the far back of his stall and bringing over a crate which content looked much heavier than they could be, given how easily he carried it compared to the shield. He sucked in a deep breath before tilting the crate over and pouring what amounted to a full set of silvery, gold-rimmed armour onto the counter desk, careful not to let any small parts fall down onto the ground. An empty helmet stared coldly up at Carn and sounded metallic rings as Jimmy drummed his greasy fingers around its scalp. “This ‘ere, this is my most prized possession - an enchanted set’a armour, harder than anythin’ you’s ever saw. Blessed by the gods above, by Tekret, I swears it - it [i]even[/i] knows how ta talk.” He knocked on the helmet. “Hellooooo! Titania, you awake, sugar?!” There came no response. Jimmy scrunched his nose. “She’s, uh, she’s a bit shy every now and then. Still, nice piece a’ work, right? Tell you what - it’s yours for three hundred drakmas - and my throat’s practically already bleedin’ out with that offer.” Carn offered a skeptical frown. “A talking suit of armour,” he mused, as he reached forward to take the helmet from the merchant, and turned it over in his hands. “I’ve never known anyone to make armour out of silver,” he said after a moment’s thought. “All the smiths I spoke to said it was shiny but of little use.” Jimmy wagged his finger. “Nah, not silver, mista’.” He dug out the axe from earlier, wound up a downwards cut and struck the breastplate. The axeblade visibly dulled, but the breastplate hadn’t even received a scratch - in fact, it was as thought the strike only had served to knock some dust off the metal. The peddler let out a triumphant “hah!” and lobbed the useless axe over his shoulder again. “It may look like it, but this ‘ere baby’s somethin’ else. She keeps sayin’ she’s got ties to the moon goddess.” “Definitely god-blessed,” added Donnie next to them, who was trying to push cabbages onto Lothar in exchange for basically anything. “Definitely. I’mma lower the price to three fifty, though, just because I’m such a good guy and you’re such a good customer.” Carn scowled. “The original offer was three hundred.” “Three hundred? Nah, nah, nah, I clearly said four hundred - sorry, my accent’s odd to locals. I said four hundred, right, Donnie?” “Sure did, Jimmy. C’mon, sir, I’ll give ya six heads for that fancy dagger on ya belt,” the cabbage peddler begged. Carn glanced down at his dagger, and he had to remind himself that it was the sort of blade only a cabbage farmer would think of as ‘fancy.’ He looked back up at Jimmy. “So here’s the thing, Jimmy,” he said after a moment. “Your first offer was an axe, which you claim to be blessed by Evandra herself, and supposedly it killed thousands. Yet it dulled after one swing, and you discarded it as if it was worthless. How do I know the axe wasn’t just terrible?” Jimmy shrugged. “Details, details - what’s important right now is what’s in front’a ya, mista’, not that junk in the back’a my store. I’m tellin’ ya, this armour ‘ere? The genuine article. Tell ya what - if ya got a weapon ya don’t value, give it a swing. If you make even a single dent, you can have it for free - cut my own throat.” Carn frowned at that, and placed the helmet back on the table. “A worthwhile suit of armour should be able to hold up to a weapon that someone [i]does[/i] value.” And with those words, he drew his holy sword back from its scabbard, and swung it down at the top of the helmet. Against all expectation, however, while the weapon itself didn’t shatter or dull, it failed to make a single dent, or even evidence that it had ever struck it. It did manage to cause a mighty metallic ring within the cavity of the helmet, and Jimmy gave an almost mocking snicker. “Ouchie, looks like the shady peddler was right afta’ all, huh?” he said and rubbed his nails on his chest. However, before he could open his mouth again, there came an uncomfortable groan from within the helmet itself, as though there was a head inside that had had to endure that terrible noise. [colour=deepskyblue]”Ugh, oh, by the… What was that noise…? Where am I…?”[/colour] “Eeeey! She awakens, finally! As I said, mista’ - the genuine article. Four hundred drakmas and she’s yours.” The guards accompanying Carn gasped, but Carn himself was no stranger to unusual sights, and his eyebrows only rose in response. “So it does talk,” he said aloud. “Your name is Titania?” “Yeah, she keeps callin’ herself that whenever I ask, anyway,” Jimmy interjected. “So, uh, how’s about that payment, since ya two’re obviously too attached ta be separated again? C’mon, four fifty, cuttin’ my own throat.” There came a soft, metallic whimper. [colour=deepskyblue]”What year is this? Do any of you know where we are?”[/colour] “You’re in a village called Thyma,” Carn answered. “Is what the merchant said true? You have a connection to the moon goddess?” He immediately held up a hand to forestall any further babbling from the merchant. [colour=deepskyblue]”Wait, Thyma? No, no, no - that’s nowhere near where I was before I… Merchant Santel, where are you?!”[/colour] “Oh, yeah, right - forgot to mention, she sometimes passes out for months and only whimpers in fever dreams and whatnot. Santel’s the guy I bought her off of… For a second time.” [colour=deepskyblue]”Bought me?! I was safeguarding the villagers of Ironstone in the Anchor Mountains and--”[/colour] “Well, those villagers lost, stuff happened, and now you’s with me - unless this fine gentleman coughs up the coin ta buy ya off’a me, that is.” He turned his focus back to Carn. “About that…” “Be silent,” Carn snapped at him, before looking back down at the helmet with curiosity. “Is this man holding you against your will, then?” There came a metallic scoff. [colour=deepskyblue]”I cannot be held by anyone! My plate is the armour of creation--”[/colour] “Oh boy, ya got her started…” [colour=deepskyblue]”... My mail is the barrier against evil! I am the agent of Gibbou the All-Protector - Titania, the Shield Against the Darkness!”[/colour] During the whole presentation, she remained perfectly still, and it was difficult to tell whether it was due to fantastic control or a lack thereof. She huffed at Carn. [colour=deepskyblue]”If I was being held against my will, I would’ve fixed this a long time ago, thank you very much.”[/colour] Lothat dropped to one knee upon hearing her speech. Carn, meanwhile, kept his calm. “An agent of Gibbou, you say? That’s rather interesting, considering I’m an Agent of Cadien. This can’t be a coincidence, can it?” The armour clicked its metaphorical tongue. [colour=deepskyblue]”An agent of Cadien, huh? You’ll do fine as a user. Quickly - put me on. We have not a moment more to waste!”[/colour] That instant, her helmet as picked up by Jimmy, who stared her into her eye-slits. “Hey, hey, hey - don’t get ahead of yaself, sugar. The gentleman ‘ere still ain’t bought ya, got it?” He extended a hand out to Carn, flexing and unflexing the index finger. “Five hundred, mista’ - can’t go no lower.” Lothar leapt to his feet. “You insolent [i]worm!”[/i] the priest suddenly exploded. “To put a price on divine artifacts? To raise that price, while claiming to be lowering it in the same breath? To speak to Cadien’s Chosen as if he were a child, and to lie to his face!? You will pay for-” “Lothar, that’s enough!” Carn snapped, before setting his gaze on Jimmy. “You can’t expect me to pay that much. I don’t even think there are five hundred coins in this entire village, yet alone in my possession.” “If I may,” another man suddenly interjected, stepping forward. It was Yarwick; Chieftain of Thyma, who had been among Carn’s guard. “I’m the chieftain of this village, and it’s my job to settle disputes like this.” The burly man stroked his chin and peered down at the armour, before looking back up at the merchant. “Let’s see. You came into this village and set up a stall without first asking my permission. I reckon that’s worth a fine - let’s say, fifty of your drakmas. Then, you tried to sell false goods, so that’s another fine. A hundred drakmas seems a fair punishment. You also committed a few blasphemies against the gods, so I reckon you owe our priest here a donation to serve as recompense. A hundred more drakmas; that seems fair. And you’ve probably heard that we’re at war, so I think I’ll need to put a tithe on a sale such as this. Thirty drakmas.” “Now, I do believe your original asking price was [i]three hundred[/i] drakmas,” the chieftain went on, as he continued to stroke his beard. “As chieftain, I’m going to say you’re obligated to stay true to that. So, final price: twenty drakmas.” Jimmy offered each of them a disappointed frown. “Huh… So this is what the people a’ Thyma do ta humble workin’ people? The lil’ guys? Ya make these arbitrary punishments ta get whachu want? Tell ya what - bet this village ain’t even -had- fines before. Bet this what the first time ya even heard a’ usin’ drakmas. Just my luck ta choose the literal backwater a’ the country. Should’a gone ta Ketrefa, Donnie - ‘least there they know how ta treat people right.” He lobbed the helmet back onto the pile, where Titania offered a grunt. “Fine, take her. Take her for free if ya want. Ya already ruined me. Gonna head back ta my family now - empty-handed, all my six kids. My wife’ll probably go back ta screwin’ my brother after this - ya know what that’s like, mista’ chieftain? Nah, you don’t - you just go around feedin’ off the hard work’a us folks, really just bitin’ deep into our necks like some sorta’ vampire. Can you life with yaself afta’ this? Can ya?” Carn had ignored the monologue, instead rifling through his pockets and pouches. “What even is a drakma anyway?” one of the guards asked. “A currency used in one of the cities,” Carn had said, talking over Jimmy’s monologue while emptying the contents of a money-pouch in one hand. “Hm. I have thirteen coins here. Only four of them are drakmas, but the rest are either bigger or made of more valuable metal.” Chieftain Yarwick fished into his own pocket and pulled out a few more coins, which he handed over to Carn. “Nineteen in total,” Carn declared. “One short, but some of these are worth more than drakmas, so it more than evens out.” He shrugged, before slipping the coins into the pouch and tossing it to the merchant, not paying any heed to the story. He then reached down and collected the pieces of armour. “By the way,” he said after a moment. “I wouldn’t go to Ketrefa, if I were you.” The merchant sourly inspected the coins. “Ya do realise these’re not worth more than drakmas, because they’re -not- drakmas, meanin’ I would have ta go to the city -they- are from ta use ‘em, right? Ya know what kinda trip that is, kehd? That ain’t no small trip. I’m talkin’ -innocent- lives ‘ere that you ‘n ye goons’re tossin’ to the, to the leons’a the city, kehd. My kids’re gonna be slavin’ for soup at this rate - I can practically hear my cousins’ goin’ at my wife as we speak!” The Chieftain’s expression quickly faded from amusement to anger. “You speak to us of slavery?” he snapped. “Have you ever lost someone to one of Ketrefa’s raids? Do you know what happens to people who are taken to that city? Count yourself lucky if you never find out, and if you already know, then hold your damned tongue before I rip it out. You have until sundown to leave.” Carn meanwhile, had already begun walking away with the armour. “Sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “At least you’re free of him, eh?” [colour=deepskyblue]”What are you doing?! Unhand me this instant!”[/colour] shouted the armour, though it didn’t seem to be doing much. Carn frowned, and came to a sudden stop. “You told me to put you on.” [colour=deepskyblue]”Take me back to the merchant. There is something I must do.”[/colour] His frowned deepened. “Very well.” Slowly, he turned around and made his way back to the stall, gently placing it on the table. There came a slight sigh. [colour=deepskyblue]”Please… Please turn my head so I’m facing him. Yeah, like that, like--... No, now I’m tilted a bit too much and-- oh yeah! There, there. Ahem. Jimmy the Peddler!”[/colour] The merchant, who had been kicking his junk angrily back into their crates, offered her a sulky frown. “Yeah, what d’you want, sugar? Bit busy right now.” The armour sat steadfast on the counter. [colour=deepskyblue]”You said innocent lives would be lost, correct? That your children would be enslaved and that your wife would… Do things with… Other people than you? Is this information true?”[/colour] The sulk deepened and Jimmy brought his fingers to squeeze away some tears. “Yup, sure is, sugar. All ten a’ them - gonna be scrubbin’ streets with soapy water - not even gettin’ a bowl’a stew a day, if ya’d call -that- stew. As for Marilyn, well, my uncle always fancied her - can’t blame ‘im, honestly…” [colour=deepskyblue]”Right! Details! Too many… Ugh, anyway - if innocent lives are at stake, I will aid you.”[/colour] Suddenly, the trash and scrap in the pile of junk Jimmy was kicking became solid gold; the drapes of his humble stall became the smoothest silk; the ashwood of his poles and counter became mahogany. The merchant choked a squeal as he fell to his knees in bafflement, grabbing some gold with quivering hands. Titania hummed. [colour=deepskyblue]”You sounded as though three hundred of these, uh, drak-mothers was a considerable amount. You have been compensated for your troubles. I pray this’ll be enough to provide for your family.”[/colour] Jimmy wiped away a single tear with a handful of silk drape. “... It’ll do just about, sugar.” His every being looked to be suppressing the energy of a volcanic eruption, but he managed to nod solemn farewells to Titania as he scrambled to bag and pocket as much of the gold as he could before too much attention was drawn to them. After Carn, Yarwick, and Lothar managed to get over their collective astonishment they walked away. Yarwick was muttering about “that was far better than that lying oaf deserved”, while Lothar appeared deeply conflicted, for the man had clearly been lying but what sort of priest would question divine judgement? Carn parted ways from the three and went into a hut which he had been using as his own quarters. In the dim hut, he removed the cloak and the bronze plate, then finally began equipping the newly-acquired suit of divine mail. There came a grunt. [colour=deepskyblue]”The mail shirt goes underneath the plate. I recommend wearing a long linen undershirt for additional protection and proper drainage of sweat. I might be light, but you might not be accustomed to having your whole body covered. It will get quite hot.”[/colour] It was advice Carn already knew, but he decided not to question it. “So here is the situation,” he said, after he had donned the helmet. “My name is Carn… Carnelian, I mean. There is a city called Ketrefa. They regularly send men into the surrounding countryside to raid settlements. They take food and people. The people they make into slaves, to work their fields, serve in their minds, or act as the personal servants to their nobility. Not too long ago, they sent a warband here, to do the same thing. But I stopped them.” [colour=deepskyblue]”Ah, I see you are a man of protection as well,”[/colour] proclaimed the armour. [colour=deepskyblue]”I was right to choose you as my vehicle. Together, we will make certain the innocents of this land can be free of evil’s molestation and enslavement! With me on, nothing can hurt you - not a single thing. You’ll be an invincible champion of the people, a shield against the darkness!”[/colour] “You sound like Lothar,” Carn remarked. “Anyway, this has created a bit of a problem. The Ketrefans don’t like being challenged, so now we’re at war with them. They’re going to be sending an army here soon, and if I can’t defeat them, they’ll kill everyone in this village,” he revealed with a grim expression. “I have less than a hundred fighters, and not all of them are properly equipped.” The armour chuckled proudly. [colour=deepskyblue]”If they are enemies of justice, then they will be smitten like the demons they are! Take me to the edges of the village - we’ll need proper fortifications first!”[/colour] Carn shrugged, and left the building. Villagers gawked at the sight of him in his new, unusual armour. He approached the edge of the village, where a short wooden pallisade had been built. “It’s not just this village I need to defend,” he pointed out. “A few others have given their support as well, and they’re in just as much danger once Ketrefa finds out.” [colour=deepskyblue]”Then this will serve as the point of battle, I take it? Leave this to me!”[/colour] In a blinding flash of light, the palisade quaked and twisted, growing ten metres tall in the blink of an eye and turning to solid stone. Stairways grew out of the wall, leading up to the battlements, which themselves were richly reinforced with stone shielding to protect archers on the inside. Titania chuckled another proud laugh. [colour=deepskyblue]”Hah! Let’s see them break through -this-!”[/colour] “By the gods…” Carn whispered in astonishment, as the village behind him was flung into chaos at the sudden change. Men, women, and children alike whispered, pointed, and yelled. He shifted his gaze back to the settlement’s interior. “I suppose I’ll need to somehow restore order, then. Maybe give some sort of speech.” [colour=deepskyblue]”Turn aface and let me address them. They need to know that hope has arrived!”[/colour] “Good,” Carn offered a small smile. “I’ve always hated giving speeches.” Though some part of him was concerned; what if his followers thought it was the armour giving the orders, and not the other way around? He’d have to take care not to rely on it too heavily. He re-entered the market, where Chieftain Yarwick was already shouting for order, and Lothar could be seen kneeling in prayer. Titania drew a symbolic breath and shouted: [colour=deepskyblue]”Be calm, townsmen of Thyma! This was the work of me - Titania, the Shield Against the Darkness and agent of Gibbou the All-Protector! There are enemies on the horizon, no doubt - had fate been any crueler, the battle would already have been lost. Fear not, however, for I have come to protect you all! There walls are my gift to you - my promise to you - that no matter what happens, no enemy will make its way inside and take even a single slave, or worse, life! This, I swear on my holy blood!”[/colour] She would have raised a hand in the air if she could. Her words caused a sudden confusion. Why was their leader suddenly speaking in a woman’s voice, by a different name? Lothar’s prayers halted, and the priest rose to his feet with concern in his eyes. Carn removed the helmet, to show that he had in fact not been possessed by the suit. “The gods have been kind to us,” he declared. “The armour I wear was blessed by the Goddess Gibbou herself, and her words are true. But do not forget! The gods may give us gifts, but it still we who must wield them. It is we who must stand on this wall and defend it when the time comes. It is we who must march beyond the wall when we are ready, for we will never truly be safe until Ketrefa is defeated. So stay vigilant! Keep training! Two gods watch over us, so let us prove our worth!” His words were met with cheers, even if they still didn’t fully understand how the strange suit of armour functioned. “The Champion of Cadien, and the Voice of Gibbou, have spoken!” Lothar proclaimed. “Heed their words, and they shall lead you to freedom!” [hider=Die SumSum] Carnboi’s gearing up for an attack in Thyma. In comes Jimmy the Peddler, offering lotsa dumb armour and trinkets. He tries first to sell him a crappy axe he says is blessed by Evandra, but Carn already has a sword; then he tries to sell him a shield, though that’s not really something he wants either; finally, he tries to sell him Titania. He keeps increasing the price of Titania as they speak, selling point being that she’s talking armour. However, village chief Yarwick points out that Jimmy hasn’t got his permission to sell and stuff, so he has to give over the armour for a fraction of the price. Jimmy’s not happy about this, but Titania takes pity on him after he goes on about how not getting the money he needs will cause innocents to die, namely his kids, and that his wife’ll cheat on him. She thus turns his stall into gold, silk and mahogany. Then Carn takes her away and puts her on, stating that they’ll be expecting an attack soon. Titania turns the palisade around the village into a tall stone wall and then the two make speeches to rally the people. Yay. [/hider] [hider=MP!] Gibbou/Titania: 5MP/5DP 1MP - One time gift: Make Jimmy the Peddler the richest motherfucker on the continent (by turning his junk into gold, his stall drapes into silk and his woodstuff into mahogany). 1DP - One time gift: Provide Thyma with a massive stone wall beyond their capability to craft. End: 4MP/4DP [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Carnelian[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 14 +5 for more than 10k characters. [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 19 [/hider]