The dying shard of Felucca bore witness to the most joyous occasion of matrimony on this day. Beset with killing, imps, chatter, and preemptive infidelity. The reporter was asked multiple times to ensure the public that this was BY NO MEANS done for items, assuring me that such a claim would be without reason and completely not at all true in the least bit. The bride went on to reassure me that if this wedding were an ocean that the rings would be as insignificant as a grain of sand annoyingly stuck in the eye lid of the smallest fish. After alerting her that not all fish have eye lids she attempted to stab me and lept a rail, fleeing into the night.