Somewhere around seventy with a twenty percent error.

[ He shrugs, almost sheepishly, when caught without a number he ought to be able to give. He'd intended to count, but shit got a little too real at one point. He'd pushed his limits, but at least he'd come out from it well informed of them.

There were certain non-negotiable weaknesses that, now that he thinks about it, he might get a chance to learn some more about if he keeps chatting with the war god. ]

How'd you do, Bisha? You looked ready to crunch some real numbers.