Excuse my accent... I am not very known to your tongue.
I don't know how you found here. But it's not up to me to find out. My work is just to greet everyone who drops by.

E V E R Y O N E! Imagine that. And what kind of species drop by. One asks for the way to heaven - how should I know? - the next for change. Or they want me to buy some vacuum sweepers.

But ok. I don't want to grumble. Social security is fair and the canteen delivers a good cheese sandwich.
But while I talk time runs away and leaves are falling. I can't talk to you a galactic millennium.
Now there are two choices. One is to create a new Empire (right here) and take one of those rotten planets. On the other hand I could tell you some of my favored jentonic poems, which might be the most hebetudinous in the whole universe.

I heard there are still people who read boring rules (which they don't understand anyway and then you have to give them a clearer one which they won't understand either). Or they want to know, what they get from the whole thing. However, I'd like to talk some more - but sorry. It isn't very much fun to stay here in front of this entrance and tell the same story to everyone again and again.

Maybe you heard this uncounted times before.
If you click on the sign beside me you come straight to the game.

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