It's that time of year. The time of year when many inhabitants of Norrath get a certain itch. An itch that Morrigann doesn't understand. All she knows is that the bells are loud and there's wine. Aside from the wine, why would anyone want to tie themselves to someone else for eternity? Especially elves and such--they have long lives. There better be a lot more wine for all of those years ahead. Today, Morrigann sneaks into a church and finds some of that tasty nectar. Excellent vintage!
Oh, look at that. Something that pairs perfect with the wine. How can she forget about the cake? Perhaps all of these luxuries are why people get married. Good drink, good eats. But it only lasts for a day. There are far better excuses to throw a party. Heck, being alive after a battle with a scary named mob is a great excuse to celebrate, and that happens practically every day in Norrath. Morrigann makes it a point to have something to party for as often as possible. This cake is delicious, though. Mmmm.
Morrigann has to admit, the bride has great taste in flowers. Such lovely deep purple blooms. And the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows draws the color out, making the flowers shine as brightly as they smell. Ah, such a nice patch of sun. Warm. Comfortable. The perfect place to take a brief nap. No one will mind, right? It's not like she snores or anything. Zzzzzz.
Oh, no. Has she been sleep walking again? How did she get here? She's not presiding over this wedding! Ugh, and these books are horribly musty. They need new copies. Hm, perhaps the couple hasn't seen her yet. It might be a good idea to sneak out of here before the minister gets here. That's going to prove difficult--the guests are already filing in, their eyes riveted to the front, watching the happy couple prepare to say their vows. Running might be the best option.
Morrigann makes a dash for it when the minister comes to take his place, but trips on the runner right behind the couple. They don't seem to notice immediately that she doesn't belong there, that she wasn't invited. Odd that, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Only Drakkin in the lot. Not to mention the guests are mostly wizards. And why exactly is a High Elf wizard marrying a Barbarian berserker? The elf had to have cast some spell on him. The berserker brandishes his glowing axe at Morrigann. Eek!
She pushes herself up and dashes down the aisle. The doors are so close! Ack! She tumbles again--these runners are killer. Wait, no. She pleads with them, claiming she's just an innocent necro who got lost on her way to someone else's wedding. These churches all look so similar. They're not buying it. The couple and guests gather around her, voices rising in anger. All those wizard epics have too many spikes. And keep the orbs of fire away from the robe! A creepy feeling washes over Morrigann when she realizes many of the wizards look eerily similar. Wizards of the Corn? She shudders.
Morrigann has definitely had enough of weddings for a long time.
Or has she?
Come back on July 8 for Wedding Bells Part 2: Broadsword Wedding.
If you have any suggestions and silly antics you'd like to see, please post in the comments! It's possible your chosen antic(s) may be used in an upcoming post. All requests will be attributed in the post with a link back to the requester's blog (so include your blog link as well if I don't know it).
NEXT UP: Magic Is Reality, Reality Is Magic - Midsummer
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