The questionning of Bambridge and Chiri continues
(Bambridge) (Chiri) (Rephidim) (Rephidim Temple)
Conference Room
Almost completely bare, this room is paneled with ceramic tiles on floor and walls, with the ceiling being alternating strips of some porous-seeming material and some kind of clear plastic which cast a harsh white light that eliminates all shadows. A round table sits at the center, at which a single chair has been provided. One wall boasts a wide, thin mirror. The sole exit from the room is a door to the north which has a narrow slit to permit a guard to look in on the occupants.

A Savanite enters through it. He is of normal height with a strong build, but an elaborate headdress makes him seem much taller. His robes are also not the standard Temple issue, but the colourful ones of an Inquisitor. The gold, black and green patterns draw the eyes upwards. He has none of the characteristic cringing associated with slaves in his motions, and the cheetah walks to stand opposite Bambridge without even a nod or bow. Instead he just stares into the Shiga's eyes from underneath his elaborate hat.

The reptile slips completely from the chair, falling to his knees in shock, a blur of thoughts whirling through his mind as he bows his head. A Savanite. The list. The name. A mission. "In-… Inquisitor."

The Savanite continues to stare at the Shiga with a practiced, intimidating glare, signing and saying nothing.

The reptile places one footpad on the floor to steady himself, and regain a little bit of formality. He doesn't rise from his position however, instead resting one elbow on his knee, and choosing to watch the floor.

Nothing happens for a few moments and the silence drags on. Finally, it is interrupted by the Savanite rapping on the table. He makes no other motions, even his tail hangs with a controlled stillness.

Bambridge hopes this is a sign that he's allowed to stand. (Perhaps I should have kept my eyes on Vassoy for sign… guh, I'm getting the noble rules mixed up with Savanite rules… } He looks up, and slowly gets to his feet.

The Savanite points at the chair, then signs, "Do you understand?"

"Ah, yes, sir. I beg your pardon, I'm not used to looking directly at figures of authority." The lizard takes his seat again, keeping his eyes on Vassoy's paws. "I was taught that such a thing was… bad."

The paws sign, "Good. Tell me about the Empire."

The Shiga falters, and scratches the back of his head for a moment, before signing again. "What did you wish to know? Conditions? Recent events?"

"Yes. The last three months," is the reply.

"Well… there were rumors flying around that the Emperor was… uhm, more eccentric than usual in his choice to allow a very prominent subject's most profound request." signs the lizard haltingly. "The proposal has caused quite an uproar amongst slave owners. I heard the stir has even made its way to the majestic island of Rephidim."

"Go on," the cheetah signs. It would seem he is as terse in person as he is behind a mirror.

After a brief pause, the reptile adds, "My position doesn't allow me access to much in the way of interesting internal affairs in the Empire. I'm lucky if I know what's to be the day's meal." Two index fingers crook by the lizard's head. "I'm not usually able to speak with anyone until my mentor sends me on errands. It's kind of a treat, you see. It's even how I learned sign."

The headdress hides the ears of the cheetah, so it wouldn't be possible to spot a giggle in the unlikely event that he made one. However, his unrelenting stare suggests he isn't laughing. "Tell me about making pots."

"Ehruhm… " utters Bambridge. The reptile leans back in his chair with a gusty sigh, his eyes downcast. He raises his paws once more. "Why don't I stop insulting your intelligence? Perhaps we can have a civil discussion before you do… whatever it is you'll do to me."

"Go on," is the Savanite's only gesture.

The Shiga's fingers twist and flutter as he silently speaks. "May we bring my not-really-a-sub-assistant here? He's probably frightened as it is."

There is no reply sign. The moment drags on with no interruption except for an increasing awareness of the hum of the overhead fluorescents. The noise eventually starts to reverberate in the ears, giving them their own tiny buzz.

"That would not serve any useful purpose." A voice interrupts the noise of the lights. The Savanite has not moved.

{Well, fooled again. Maybe I should stick to the finer points of opening chintzy locks and keep my nose out of others' business.} muses the reptile. Out loud, he says, "Oh." Bambridge begins signing again. "So, at what point did you decide I wasn't a potter? If it makes any difference, those locations and events were largely true. Most of the information you might have gathered probably backs me up on that. I'm just not a potter."

The voice is a thin, high pitched hiss with a reedy quality which makes it resemble a broken woodwind. It comes from the headdress of the Savanite, the very large and elaborate mantle that could conceal something small, and obviously has been. The front of it opens, and two cloth 'doors' swing out to either side, revealing the little garter seated inside. "Just now when you failed to answer my question, I know as little about making pots as you probably do."

Bambridge nods, and shrugs. "A very deft checkmate, sir. You play the game exceedingly well, it's obvious why you were chosen for this position."

Throughout this, the cheetah maintains his strong stare at Bambridge.

"Yes, I have had to surmount considerable obstacles." The garter slithers down one side of the headpiece. The Savanite holds out his arm as soon as the snake touches his shoulder. The Naga wears a smaller version of the robes that the cheetah is garbed in, though they somehow seem a little more elaborate. He also carries a small staff. In total, the real Inquisitor is only 3 feet long, standing at most 1 foot tall. "Enough about me however, I wish to talk about you."

The Shiga shifts a little in his seat. Even in a place so far removed as the Temple, he can feel caste rub against caste, as uncomfortable as ever. "Certainly, Inquisitor. What would you know?"

The garter reaches the table and starts to slither back and forth, much closer to the slave than the Shiga. "Really, your explanation about scents and oxides on the pots was quite convincing, but one little thing made me suspicious. You said you weren't a full citizen of the Nagai Empire."

"I thought that might be somewhat implausible, Jingai slaves being somewhat more rare than Savanites," replies the lizard, only occasionally stealing a glance at his interrogator. Interrogarter? "I'd hoped you might mentally explain it off as debtor's prison."

"Actually, that is the suspicion I wished to confirm, that you are in fact a Jingai slave. A Rephidimite who hasn't studied the empire as extenssively as I might have concluded you meant the difference between Nagai and Jingai. As you know however, there is no difference in their type of citizenship, just a few special privileges for Nagai relating to property, title inheritance, and a few other legal considerations." The Inquisitor stops, and looks up at Bambridge. "Also, your demeanor suggests you had been subjected to slavery at some point. Is this true?"

Bambridge tilts his head to one side a little bit, rubbing his chin. "Well, to a certain degree, esteemed Inquisitor. I started as most young citizens do, as I'm sure you know all too well. Most of the scholar's organizations would not accept me, so I began with menial labour. Slavery, such as it was. I proved I could handle more complex tasks, odd jobs, and the like, so worked my way out of it."

The little garter looks up at Bambridge with a glint in his eye, "I suspected so. You are a good example of the hard-working Jingai who have helped make the Empire what it is. You will also likely to be happy to hear that there is no description on the Escaped slave list that matches your own, nor on the one of criminals that the Nagai Empire is interested in extraditing. In short, if those were your reasons for avoiding Temple Authority all this time, you can relax now as no one is interested in you."

The lizard's shoulders sag, relief painted on the reptile's face for perhaps the third or fourth time tonight. "Really? No-one at all? Perhaps I can return to the Empire then. Heh, my master seemed so angry when I quit that I thought he was going to send guards after me. I'd just scrimped and saved enough to make my way here, to a new life."

Something in the Naga's posture shows a sign of regret, or jealousy. Vassoy rests both hands on this staff and looks up at the humming lights. "The Empire, I envy you. I have only read about the glories like the Imperial Palace, The Waterfall of a Thousand Coils, and Ziggurat of Unending colour, you have seen them. The necessities of getting to this position gave me little opportunity to travel, and I am likely to have even less now."

"Duty is a heavy load to bear, Inquisitor. You have my respect, but I don't know if I'd wish to trade places, even in my less-than-affluent lifestyle." Bambridge tips his head the other direction now, bobbing one foot slowly. "But, you say that you will have less chance now… as opposed to when? Surely, the Temple must make allowances for their trusted personelle to take leave."

"There is a prejudice against us, which you likely have experienced." Vassoy says, sitting back on his coil. "I have few friends, and none of them in the Inquisition. The bazaar, is chaotic, and I am tasked with sorting it out. I am sure, that should I leave, especially to visit the Empire, someone would take that as an opportunity to displace me in a present, or future position."

"Possibly in a year or two… " he lets it trail off.

Bambridge leans forward, bowing his long back to rest his elbows on his knees. A ridge of bumps from his spine sticks up, usually concealed by his cloak. "Hmmm… well, with the good news you have given me, I would like to take a trip to Imperial lands, if just to renew a few acquaintances, and enjoy some things I've missed. I wonder how the collegia slitherball rankings stand? But I digress." The Shiga looks up again. "I haven't the capital to make the trip, and you are unable to leave your duties. Perhaps I can be of assistance to you, Inquisitor."

"Yes?" The garter manages to look across at Bambridge by stretching very upright. He taps behind him on the table with his stick. "Dromo, get out the writing pad. I forgot to mention Tugsley, that I am giving you a good citizenship award and one hundred shekels for the return of the Zelak, and your other helpful acts. Write that down Dromo so I can sign for it, then go get it."

The Savanite takes out a pad and starts writing. He doesn't lean forward at any time to do this, instead holding the paper in front of his face as he writes on it. Presumably a habit learned from writing while Vassoy was in the mantel. When Dromo finishes, he puts the pad and pen on the table.

The Shiga bobs his head gratefully. "You are most kind, Inquisitor, and I think that kindness should be repaid. As it stands, I'm currently unemployed here in Rephidim, having only my accumulated funds that are almost run out, and those fake potter's tools in my cloak. I know it's not quite the same, but if you were able to help me reach Imperial territory, I could perhaps bring you back some keepsakes from the homeland. Perhaps bring you word of friends you know? Return with news of current events? No-one else in the Temple has knows or cares enough to even go there on your behalf, much less find meaningful souvenirs, and suchlike."

Vassoy moves over to the note, and opens his staff, it would seem to also be a writing instrument, with a round weight on the end he usually grips. Writing in what must be very large letters for him, but still very small for most people, he signs Inquisitor Vassoy on the bottom of the sheet.

While Vassoy writes, the Shiga looks at Dromo, and makes a short, terse motion, wiping his palms across each other, and brushing at something under his eye with his thumb. A flutter of his paws conveys a short sign blurb. "Soon. Hope. They are well."

Dromo makes no reaction, but is staring so intently at Bambridge's face it is impossible he missed the action. Once Vassoy signs the note, the cheetah takes it up, and closes his headpiece, then leaves the room as if he was the Inquisitor himself.

"That is very generous of you," Vassoy says with a surprised hiss. "The most I had hoped for was that you might join me in a meal or two and talk of the Empire. Sponsoring you there would be much more than the price of a few meals… hmm… Perhaps we could discuss this over a few dinners, or Matehs?"

One of the overhead lights flickers with a quiet 'klink' then resumes glowing normally.

"I'd be honored, sir," replies the Shiga, with a smile and a sitting bow. "It might be a somewhat expensive endeavor, I'll be up front about that. But I do know a few tricks of the trade, if you will. Knowing your surroundings, whether it be the bazaar, or the Imperial capitol, is imperative to the traveller on a tight budget. It's how I evaded that Zelak for so long. I'll show you where you might be able to find some tastes of home right in your very own Bazaar, and perhaps we can discuss this proposal?"

Vassoy flicks out his tongue, "Quite agreeable, and if I find the bazaar reminds me too much of work, I can show you the Mist Garden. When Dromo returns, I will provide you with some times when I will be off duty, and you can pick one that is convenient."

"Additionally, I would prefer if you did not mention this to others." Vassoy waves his staff around, indicating the room. "I prefer to question people from behind the mirror, and it would not be as effective if they knew why. I am sure you understand."

The Door opens and Dromo enters with a certificate and a small bag of coins. He places them on the table in front of Bambridge, then moves to stand behind the Vassoy.

Bambridge grins, arching his fingerpads together. "Excellent! I will look forward to our next meeting, Inquisitor. Thank you for your consideration about my situation, sometimes it's difficult to find a sympathetic soul." The reptile nods solemnly. "It wouldn't be right to repay your consideration with the opposite. I won't speak of this conversation."

"Good, I appreciate that." The Inquisitor motions for the slave to move closer, then slithers up his arm. He crawls into the mantle, and even though it is rather unusual, the effect does convey a regal aspect. "I hope this will turn out to be a mutually beneficial association. Oh, Dromo, write down these times."

Vassoy lists several dates and times in the near future, which Dromo records and then hands to Bambridge.

The Shiga rises from his seat to take the paper, looking momentarily lost in thought. "Ahh… I nearly forgot. That strange, strange exile that I was bringing to Chiria's tent… what became of her? She'd been beaten fairly badly by some roughnecks near the seamier district. Arrest might aggravate her wounds. Is she all right?"

"I don't know, she and the others are being held while I deal with you. Their questioning won't take long, as I am fairly certain that guard was wrong in bringing everyone here." Vassoy hisses, "It shouldn't take more than an hour, depending how cooperative they are, and most of that will be paperwork."

"It is unfortunate, but innocent people generate as much, if not more paperwork than the guilty ones. The reasons for each release have to be well documented." Vassoy does not seem to enjoy this aspect of his job very much.

Bambridge bobs his head in the affirmative. "Ah, well then. Formalities are a favorite plaything in every governing body, even one as noble as the Temple. I guess I'll catch up to them back in the city proper, in particular, I think I owe Chiria an apology. I might have cost her some business in the time she's been here."

"It is unfortunate that has been the case, I will try to impress on the guards once again how they are to do their job. You should go now so there is no further delay." Vassoy uses his staff to tap on Dromo's head, then points. The slave walks around the table and leads Bambridge to the door.

The door is opened, and the Inquisitor looks down from his riding position at the Jupani outside, "This person is free to go, make sure they are escorted out the gate, then send me the next prisoner."

The reptile follows along to collect his belongings. (The oddest fluke ever, and I can't tell anyone. Oh, well. The guys at the Missing Shekel would never believe this if I told them anyway.)

"One moment," Vassoy adds to the guard. "Send me the healer, Chiri, along with the two Savanites. There is no reason to keep her from her business. I will deal with her quickly Tugsley, if you want to wait for her at the gate. The exile… "

The Inquisitor sighs, as if Exiles are a big part of his daily workload. "… I'd better speak with her separately."

Vassoy bows to Bambridge, then the Shiga is lead off.

Rephidim Temple
A steady glow from the Temple's outer artificial lighting contrasts with the ancient crumbling stonework of the entrance to the Temple. Perhaps the irony would be that the stonework is far newer than any of the lighting. More so than any palace or castle or fortress to be found on the surface, the Temple is an embodiment of ancient and almost timeless authority. Yet, it is also an embodiment of secrecy and bureaucracy, for anyone who knows any of the truth, and the state of disrepair of so much of the Temple is a standing testament to this. On the steps, the Elite Guard keep their constant vigil into the night. Each one is armed with a chitin blade and flintlock rifle, and they wear black robes and armor with silver trim bearing the Star and Anchor of the Temple.

The Shiga was very efficiently returned his belongings and escorted outside. He didn't even have the chance to count his reward, or read his certificate. The guards don't seem to mind him waiting, as long as it is done at a slight distance, and its been long enough that Chiri should be coming out anytime soon.

Finally swathed in his comfortable muted gray again, and with his back once more securely against a wall, the reptile waits, a little niggling bit of doubt gnawing at his insides. Did I say all the right things? Will the others keep my story clicked? Should I be taking the opportunity to run right now? A sense of obligation quells the instinct to bolt, for now, and so the lizard decides to kill time by reading his rather ironic award.

The Award is made of nice parchment, and most of it written in a flowery script. It speaks of the service the individual has done for Rephidim, beyond the call of a normal citizen, without going into any details. A different handwriting has placed the name 'Tugsley Pines' and the Date on the form. It is completed with the Temple's seal. Rolled up inside is a second smaller piece of paper. Opening that reveals the words, "I don't know what you mean." It looks like Dromo's handwriting.

Foosteps can be heard as a thin Skreek makes her way toward the gate. A smaller Savanite cub scurries beside her as she slowly heads toward the Temple Exit. Her eyes are fixed directly on the Shiga and she does not look very pleased.

"You too." A Jupani guard orders, pushing the cringing slave known as Corpselicker after the Skreek.

Little Reed follows quickly after Chiri, looking worried.

"Yellow Feather! Over here!" The reptile waves at the poor Savanite, then cuts his call short as he spots Chiria. {Uh-oh… }

Bambridge tucks his award away, with the note in a separate pocket. {At least Dromo's all right. Maybe I can speak with him later.}

Corpselicker sprints over to Bambridge and stands beside him. Almost behind the Shiga in fact, as if he would prefer to be in the shadow he casts.

The rat marches right up to the lizard and opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again and turns to Little-Reed. "Cover your ears for a moment, kid."

Little Reed looks perplexed at Chiri, but obediently does so, putting his hands flat against his head so little crescents of black peek out from them.

"I'm sure you're very agitated, but I can expl-" begins the Wooden Shekel…

Chiri cuts the Shiga off, screaming off a shrill list of profanities that would make Slezan blush, including a few comments about the lizard's mother, his eating habits, and anatomy. (And since she is a doctor she knows quite a bit about anatomy!)

Little Reed looks over at Corpselicker, wondering if the bigger Savanite will tell him what Chiri said, later…

"You can take your hands down now." Chiri signs to the Savanite cub, her eyes still glaring daggers into Bambridge.

Corpselicker has a dazed expression from the outburst, and considering his job, and where he worked, that says alot.

Little Reed does so obediently.

Bambridge's mouth opens and closes a few times, silent for a few moments. Finally, he manages, "I… uh… didn't even know that was… um, remotely possible without crowbar and several kegs of black powder." The lizard shifts uneasily under those daggers. "So… um… how did it go?"

The rat grinds her teeth. "I lost half a night's work because of you… not to mention leaving my tent unattended. Half of Darkside's probably looted me by now." Her mouth moves as if to say more, but she stops after another glance in the cub's direction. "You're lucky I'm trying to set a good example for the kid, otherwise I'd REALLY get mad at you."

The larger Savanite tries to shrink more and more into Bambridge's shadow, especially as he is indirectly the cause of all this.

Little Reed looks up trustingly. "Are you all right, Uncle Scotch?" he signs.

The lizard blanches, leaning ever so slightly backwards, as if expecting to be punched at any moment. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea this would happen. I thought I'd ditched that Zelak for good, I swear! Your tent might be safe if some Templars remained around it. I, er… please, take this. The Inquisitor gave it to me. It's probably far less than what you're due, but it's all I've got. And 25 more for Envoy's bill! And… and… ah… whatever Yellow Feather got off that Rhian." The reptile looks behind himself. "Here, Feather, stop cringing like that, it's not your fault."

Bambridge proffers the pouch with Vassoy's reward in it. "Ah, Reedy, things are okay. Chiri and I just had a little misunderstanding, I'm sure everything'll be okay… "

Yellow Feather doesn't manage to stand much straighter, but he does come out a bit more into the light. He holds out a handful of coins, and other things, that he removed from the Rhian previously.

The Skreek blinks and goes counting through the coins, she visibly relaxes… a little. "UNCLE Scotch? Reed, you take after your dad too much sometimes." She counts through the offerings. "Well, I suppose this will do, maybe if I'm lucky X got back to the tent before they got to any of the expensive stuff." Her gaze shoots back up at Bambridge, "But I still expect a full explanation for all of this!"

"He's nice, and he wants to help, and he teaches things," Little Reed signs to Chiri. He appears reassured by Bambridge's confident attitude. "Isn't that what an uncle does?"

"Of course, of course, my dear healer! I'm positively aghast that you've been caused so much distress. If there's anything gone from your tent, I promise, I'll make up for it." The Shiga wags his head from side to side, looking up a little bit. "It might take me a little while, but be assured, I'll do my part! Honest! Would I lie to you? You just trust old uncle Scotch, and everything'll get better, eh? How 'bout some dinner, huh? How about you, Feather, you hungry?"

Yellow-Feather nods enthusiastically. "Yes Bambridge master. I never ate well at the Missing Shekel."

"And your dad would probably tan both of our hides if you did some of the things he'll teach you." Chiri squeaks back to the cub. "I don't know what's worse… your aspirations to be a pit fighter, a knight, or a filcher." She gives the cub's head another ruffle.

Little Reed's ears wiggle.

Chiri frowns at the older Savanite's signs. "Lie to me? Never I'm sure… "

"… Bambridge." the rat finishes.

Bambridge grins, his paws held apart in an open gesture. "Lovely! Then it's settled! I think I have enough left for a meal, it's on me. We can talk this situation over, get some meat on poor Feather here, and-… " The Shiga's mile-a-minute patter stops like a flying machine hitting a brick townhouse. "Oh, Serpent's spleen."

Corpselicker's eyes go wide and he flashes quickly, "Oh no! It's just what he told me to call him at the Missing Shekel. He isn't lying. My master would never lie!"

"Uhm… point of reference, Feather… " rasps the lizard, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "Please don't call me 'master' anymore. You didn't need to with the tribe, and you don't need to now. We'll get that name thing straightened out later on, after I get you to take a bath."

Little Reed makes a face. "Who's going to hold him down and lick him clean?"

"Dagh take it. Just as long as my damages are paid." Chiri makes a dismissive gesture. "You can call yourself Queen of Abu Dhabi for all I care. Just don't try and kavi your way out, Rephidim's a small place… and I have big friends."

Yellow Feather nods and looks down at the ground.

Bambridge pats Yellow Feather on the shoulder, then nods at Chiri. "I owe you an explanation along with that money, so we can get that settled over a meal. The way things have been working out here, it's more than likely I'll be returning to you," hisses the lizard grimly. His face lightens a touch. "'Sides… who'd teach Reedy how to make shekels fall out of his ears if I wasn't going to be amongst your best clients?"

Little Reed looks quite curious about how this would be done.

The older Savanite stays very close to the Shiga.

Chiri smirks. "Just make sure he doesn't pick up the habit of trying to stuff shekels in his head." She hands the cub the end of her tail, a way to keep track of him without having to carry him. "So, you know a place that has good wasshu dumplings? Otherwise any old greasepit will do, it all tastes like wood to me."

The younger Savanite latches onto the tail, ears wiggling.

"Huh, waashu dumplings! You want something with sting, you just follow old Uncle Scotch to Little Babel, and we'll have you spouting like the Sabaoth's Dragon in no time flat," hisses the lizard, grinning as he flips a ceramic. "And some nice crunchy sandwiches for the spotgrunts, eh?"

The rat chuckles. "Sorry, but it all tastes like wood. I was going to have a life mage fix that little problem for me but decided to sink my money into my little tent instead."

One of the Temple Savanites can be seen inside the gate, craning her neck to look outside. Spotting the small group, she shows something to one of the guards, then points. He nods and she darts over. A message is in her hand, which she holds out to Bambridge as soon as she arrives.

Bambridge taps the side of his nose. "You don't worry about the taste of wood when it's on fire, friend healer. Spicy enough to give you a good kick whether you can taste or not. I heard tell that some fellow called Guy Fox ate there, and was breathing smoke like one of those little poppers. Why… eh? What's this?" The reptile accepts the note, and looks it over.

The message reads: The has been an unforeseen development. The Exile Envoy will not be leaving the Temple tonight, possibly even longer. – Vassoy.

The messenger bows as soon as she delivers it, and sprints back to the watching guard.

"What is it? They're not going to question us AGAIN are they?" Chiri squeaks, itching the back of her head.

"Hmmm." The reptile chews what passes for a lizard's lower lip as he reads. He looks up, shaking his head. "No, they've got no gripe with us. However, that exile with the quarter's cricket fixation won't be leaving the Temple for a while. I'm not sure if I want to wait and find out why."

The rat shrugs. "She probably told someone she was a Zelak again, or tried to eat one of the slaves' brains. Some weird exile thing."

Yellow Feather stares at Chiri.

Little Reed lets go of Chiri's tail long enough to sign, "She wouldn't eat my brains, would she?!" He looks rather disturbed by the idea.

"Yes… that's probably it… " murmurs the reptile. Something in his tone sounds slightly unconvinced, but Bambridge leaves it be. "Let's be on our way. We'd best check to see if X returned to your tent, Chiria. If he did, I'll invite him along too, we'll have enough time to get to Little Babel before the evening crowd hits."

Chiri grins wickedly and tugs at her bandanna. "She tried to eat my brain once, wanna see the scar, spotty?" She gives Little Reed another pat, "Not your brains, hon. they probably taste terrible. Too much like your dad's."

Little Reed looks less than convinced.

As the group heads away, disappearing down the circle of the main road, another Temple guard comes to the gate and looks around. "Tugsly! Tugsly Pine! You're wanted for questioning by the Inquisitor… " His voice trails off as he sees no one nearby answering to the description. "Dagh. He's gone. Well, another day, another all-points bulletin."


GMed by John, Lynx & Zoltan

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Today is 11 days before Guy Fox Day, Year 25 of the Reign of Archelaus the First (6124)