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The following is an elegantly written letter bearing the seal of the Modas il Toralar. Upon the face of the containing envelope are words written in a bold red:

"Urgent Information concerning Abominus of the Grim Maw."

Abominus,

I have recently come into possession of several ciphered documents containing information that, while of minimal interest to the Modas, you might find useful. Unfortunately, I cannot speak as to the accuracy of the information, as I personally do not know the source.

Still, as a gesture of goodwill from the Modas to the Grim Maw and to all of the Horde, attached are decoded transcripts of a portion of said documents. Do with them what you will. Additionally, the Modas is willing to offer limited aid and strategic consultation should it be required.

~Vectus
Commander of the Ebon Reavers
Claviger of the Modas il Toralar

The following transcripts are included in the envelope:

As you may know, the Alliance does not intend to let down the capture of Pia's central piece 'Gentyl' and thus seeks to create an offensive Retaliation on the day of their supposed wedding. This letter is to provide various tips of no importance to anyone, with the possibility of this information becoming obsolete by the time of delivery.

In accordance with life's karma and rule of retaliation, too has one Goblin Warlord 'Meshqa' been kidnapped. The Allied forces seek to use him as leverage, as held by Pia. One 'Faithe', being his ex-slave of 30,000 gold wishes to offer her self as a trading piece, to increase the likelyhood of this exchange's success. She appears to rely heavily on the old master's good will for sancity from her disposal.

In addition, 13 Horde outposts and towns are planned to be sacked. I will leave to you to figure which. Ragefang's offensive will take place on the wedding as mentioned before, the tactic being a simple blitz. Those in acord may include but are not limited to the Ocheliad, 'Sanctity', Pia, Stormwind Watch, and Terra Incognita. The aim is a show of force for future preventation of such acts.

She laughs as she reads the invitation. So this is what the forsaken had wanted when they attacked the clinic.

She frowns. What does one get a crazy undead and a paladin for their wedding? She'd have to think long and hard on that.

"The priessst, yesss, or ssshaman, or druid, yesss! We need one of them to hold the ceremony, yesss! Maybe 1 from each faction, asss a kind of passssssing over event, yesss? We will asssk AAMSss to provide one, maybe, yesss?"

The pace of preparations had risen to a frenzy pitch. Many attempts tp penetrate Grim Maw securoty had been made, some more successful than the others. The latest attempt was being cleaned up by his cleaner maggots, sweeping their little brooms about vigorously. He looked down at the caterer's menu.

"Hmm, sssomething for everyone, yesss. Fresssh gnomesss being held inthe Undercity, to be barbequed on the day before and roasssted ssslowly over messsquite wood for a day, basssted in their own juicesss and rubbed down with ssspicesss, yesss. Whole roassst boarsss for Ocr-thingsss, yesss. Plainssstridersss and a wild kodo for my Tauren Brothersss, yesss. Ssspicy gumbo filled with all kindsss of ingredientsss, a ssspecial Darkssspear recipe we found on Zalazane'sss body when we killed him, yesss. Delicate meatsss and cheesesss and passstriesss for the Elf and gobbo-thingsss, yesss. We guessssss that the Alliance racesss that come can partake of thessse asss well, yesss? The sssweetsss table alone isss being donated by Callissstria'sss of Dalaran, the finessst bakery and sssweet ssshop on Azeroth, yesss."

He looked at the most important entry: the alcohol. There were entire ship's holds currently sailing for Booty Bay, their holds filled to the brim with every kind of alcoholic beverage imaginable. He salivated at the thought of his special Dwarf Liver Squeezings kegs, filled with deliciously alcoholic rendered down dwarf livers. T'chali's had made a special brew for him, as had Kron's distilleries.

Abominus could not wait. He left the fortress through the sewers, intent on more errands.

What was once a mouthful of lemonade quickly became a stain on the flyer before Kedia, the consequence for chuckling as she read the absurd contents. Slowly recovering from influx of laughter, she takes a look at the note left on her desk, from her personal informant.

"Blitz,
When you're done giggling, I'd advise that we consider that to do about this situation. Whether any of this is true, (which seems like complete rubbish; yet, not something I'd put past Gentyl?) I am unsure, and intend to discover before this "wedding" does transpire. It could easily be a trap to any who attend, or perhaps, indeed the torture of the paladin. If she weren't Gentyl, I myself might have pity.
This, though, like all things, is a situation in your control, Princess.
Sincerely, Baron Motorforge "

She nods, and proceeds to contemplate the plans to be had...
"Hah. Glorious."

Kezrin's normally foul mood seemed even darker than normal as she muttered her way to Derscha's desk and slapped down the notice.

"...chickens, lies, frogs, heads, maggots..." the goblin grumbled as she walked off again.

Derscha idly noticed her litany had doubled in length since the last time she'd heard it. She giggled to herself, then looked down at the slip of paper.

"Oh, my."

Well, she supposed it was well within the AAMS's usual line of work, and the AAMS was always glad to support cross-faction weddings.

She made a mental to note to get the tip in advance; she had a feeling it was going to be very hectic once all the Alliance guests arrived with their "congratulations" for the groom. . .

A priest, a shaman, and a druid were hired for a wedding…Derscha thoughtfully frowned over Abominus's request. Translation services was simple enough, but finding a priest, a shaman, and a druid? Who were willing to work with Abominus? He wasn't very popular among the Alliance.

She rapped her fingers on the edge of her desk.

Tappity-tap-tap. Tappity-tap-tap. Tappit-

She suddenly giggled as the solution came to her.

The question wasn't 'Who do this for Abominus?', but 'Who would do this for Gentyl?'

She couldn't just ask anyone, no, no, no. That would be poor customer service. It was clearly Derscha's responsibility to find someone who cared for Gentyl, and wanted what was best for her. The kind of person Gentyl would like to participate in such an important event. Those were they type of people you wanted at a wedding. She giggled again at the plan.

The first place to start was with the Pia Presidium, and the Ironforge Clinic. Magdelyn was very helpful, after Derscha explained what was needed. (Although she disliked the implication that Magdelyn thought she was there to kidnap her on the Maggot Lord's behalf… the AAMS had a policy against sentient freight these days.)

She had the opportunity to explain her mission to Cray Auchtin, as well, and asked him for any recommendations. Cray promised he'd send her any other names he thought of. It turned out he had a rather, um, interrogative, shaman named Belpha who might work.

She considered her options some more; it was probably best to not use all Pia Presidium people. After a bit of hunting around, she ran into Katamar, the druid she'd met at the Blue Recluse a while back. He'd been one of the ones to defend Bralox and his druidic contingent, despite the fact they were members of the Horde. An excellent candidate, clearly someone who could look beyond faction lines!

She explained to him the situation: she needed a druid, and preferred to have one who cared about the happiness of the couple, rather than a random stranger. Katamar understood immediately and agreed to assist.

The giggling gnome returned to Caer Darrow, and penned a letter to Abominus.

Dear Lord Abominus,

The AAMS will be happy to provide translation services at your upcoming wedding. We are also working on finding a priest, shaman, and druid from the Alliance as requested.

Please feel free to contact the AAMS for any other requests.

Sincerely,
Derscha Kettlebomb, CEO
Anytime, Anywhere Messenger Service

p.s. If you have the need of any party favors, we have recently acquired a large stash of bonnets we would be willing to donate.

Abon looked at the flier again. She would make a killing on this wedding. Every man, woman and child would want to look their best, smell their best and feel their best. Abon had a solution for every cleaning and cosmetic need known to man...woman...living, well, unliving thing, too.

Aside from the potential sales, there would be the poor distraught husband left behind by a fickle wife. Gentyl! How could you.

Yes, Abon needed to go console the Commander because he was one delicious specimen of finely wrought man. She freshened her lip gloss and hurried down to the docks to wait for him.

Bralox sat at his own desk, newly minted with nameplate, studying the request. "What DOES one get for a wedding as such?" He pondered to himself. A grin spread across his face. "Of course. They will need a bed to consumate the ceremony..." He paused. "And perhaps a Shaman as well."

Smiling, Bralox scribbled out two letters.

Derscha,

Gone to Un'Goro, looking for Devilsaurs.

Be back later, Bralox

This one was left on Derscha's desk. The second, scribbled out to Abominus would be dropped off on his way out, sent by wind as swift as it could.

Maggot Lord,

I would be more than happy to preform the needed Ceremony. understand, it will be mostly in Orcish. Please contact me for details, Yes?

Bralox, High Shaman of the Redwalker tribe,
Senior Courier, AAMS.

Abominus had secured the services of a shadow priest, and now Bralox had volunteered as a shaman. That left only a druid-thing to complete the spiritual set. He scanned the note from Dershca, and nodded in satisfaction. All was proceeding according to plan.

A large note from Callistria's of Dalaran was placed on his desk. He readit over, and smiled. They would be able to make a giant cake formed as a coffin, with screaming skulls on it that actually screamed. It would be a layer cake, of chocolate, white, and raspberry flavors, with mutliple creams, custards, and jellies of various sorts stuffed inside. Maggots nosed about, eager for cake, but were disappointed. It seems the samples were already eaten.

He hoped his goblin courier would reach the Modas safely.

((Still...can't...stop...laughing...xD))

Drakehide had finished his scouting run early in the morning, and found most of the encampments and raw materials he was looking for. By the end of the month, his next - and possibly most important invention ever - would be complete. As he stepped back into his shop, he rooted through the shelf full of schematics, designs, and sketches. He was looking for one, specifically, one he'd come up with over the last several days.

Yes. This was exactly what he needed right now. And...when it was complete, it would be glorious. He'd need a skilled surgeon to install it properly, though. Perhaps he would approach Judiel Lightblade, or Nynra Lightheart to assist. He was in contact with both of them and they both seemed to be proficient healers...

It was going to have to wait, though. Drakehide had a lot of work to do, right now, and a LOT of saronite bombs to finish arming.

In a moment of...unscrupulous behaviour...Drakehide had earlier made a deal with a devil. A devil named Jack F*$&-ING Nukenson. He'd agreed not only to pay back Nukenson what he owed him, but also to trade small armaments and explosives to assist the Alliance in their offensive on the matrimony, in exchange for a kidnapping and some information. It had not been his most glorious moment ever. In fact, there had been a lot of unglorious moments in Drakehide's life recently.

That ship had set sail. Drakehide could care less now about the arranged kidnapping, and even less about the information. Unless, of course, that information pertained to ANYTHING that posed a threat to him or his friends. The way he'd behaved, of late, not unlike an adolescent, or petulant child...it was not becoming of a son of Rukh, at ALL.

And, lately, when he'd hit rock bottom...after losing Aeshi, and after having been bodily hurled by Andaendis and Fehl into a pocket-dimension to be a chew toy for their demons...he'd been thinking a lot about just who he'd become, and what he was doing with his life.

Something was changing.

Drakehide had found, of late, that something specific was starting to nudge him back in the direction of honor, and away from wasting away in Ratchet, where he seemed only to be known as the bouncer, the brawler, and the village drunk. He had a reason, now, to clean up his image, and to clean up his act. And, also, to stay sober. Two days, he'd been off the Cactus Cider, and counting.

Something had changed in him...something was there that wasn't there before. Or, if it had been, it had been gone for so long from the warrior that he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt it.

Drakehide put the thoughts out of his mind and went straight to work. He could afford to dwell on his feelings more once the bombs and bolt guns were complete, and ready for delivery. He would hold up his end of this insane bargain, and hoped Nukenson would just keep his big mouth shut about the rest. And after that...he was NEVER making deals with Jack Nukenson ever, ever again.

Oh, and he was STILL going to kill Keedriel...

...after he finished the bombs...

((Which, of course, Jack, means that I give it a week before Drake and Jack end up making deals again. PS, unfortunately RL will prevent me from attending, but congratulations on your big day, Abominus and Gentyl! Drakehide sends the gift of boomstick. xD))

((a modest proposal for the festivities. if , either before or after the fray, if folks could get the horde lined up on one side, the alliance on the other, with the 'happy couple' and a cake in the middle..that would be an awesome screenshot :D ))

*Picture Abominus in a tux wielding his giant two-handed razor, and Gentyl in a pink dress wielding a massive warhammer, and inbetween them in the cake, with Horde and Alliance on either side. That would be amusing, as well as a picture of them both lying dead next to the cake, with bodies scattered all over, if things go south*

Well wishers flooded the Grim Maw compound, eager to wish Abominus happiness and joy in his new life with Gentyl, or whichever name she came up with after the inevitable trauma of death and rising again as a Forsaken. Each gift was placed in a special pit that engineers used to examine for explosives. If it cleared, it was placed in the growing heap in the main pub, where curious Grim's poked and prodded them, listening for tinkling, ticking, or animal noises.

((I won't be at the wedding, but I gotta meddle a little bit >.>))

Tidestalker looked through the periscope. Switching from a regular ship to a submarine for his pirate activities had been expensive, but worth it, as it allowed him hide a lot easier when things got too hot.

Currently, he was watching a flotilla of ships, heading eastward, probably towards Booty Bay, given the trade route they were following. Time to go to work.

----

When the first warning shot through one of the ship's upper decks had caused the entire thing to explode, the other ships had run up white flags immediately. After boarding the first ship and peeking in the hold, he could see why. Wall to wall booze! The pirates began weeping in pure joy. Once they had managed to compose themselves, they started moving the alcohol to the sub, even being generous enough the let the ship's crew have some to drink, since they could just claim the pirates stole it.

In fact, the only things on the entire fleet that weren't happy were a dozen angry-looking maggots, with tiny spears and armor who had desperately tried to stop the pirates from taking a cask of 100 year old aged Dalaran Red.

His cargo hold full, and his sub towing a raft made up of alcohol casks, Tidestalker and his crew sailed to a quiet island for the largest party they'd ever held. The convoy of ships, after causing a little damage to their ships to keep up appearances for the sake of the insurance claims (lord knows goblins make it hard to file claims anyways), continued to Booty Bay, to relate the unfortunate news.

Foxria had been transported to Dalaran and meet her sister Astaraa there. She spoke fast, because so much needed to be done in so little time, and the plan sounded better when spoken fast also.

" We have to find her now, this very day, she is our only hope now!" Foxria said.

" But ... she hasn't been seen since Ehlina retired. She has not been the same since that time." Astaraa said.

" She will come I am sure." Foxria added.

The two set off to the krauses landing to fly off and find the one woman who could help in this most important time. The twin to Gentyl, Genstyl.

(a modest proposal for the festivities. if , either before or after the fray, if folks could get the horde lined up on one side, the alliance on the other, with the 'happy couple' and a cake in the middle..that would be an awesome screenshot :D ))

What an excellent idea

In fact, the only things on the entire fleet that weren't happy were a dozen angry-looking maggots, with tiny spears and armor who had desperately tried to stop the pirates from taking a cask of 100 year old aged Dalaran Red.

oh no. Abominus is going to be so angry. Bad Tidestalker. Hilarious though.

Genstyl had been taken to a secure place. Having been transported to Hearthglenn and accompanied by Astaraa, she was a bit muddled. Years ago she had been created to find Gentyl. Pia's gnomes had built a machine to do what no one else could do. But things had gone gnomish and instead of a clear location, Genstyl was born. Some hair from Gentyl and exotic crystals gathered from the world created a connection Genstyl and Gentyl would share as one. Though Genstyl had been trained as champion by Ehlina, and made her own name, Genstyl still had that connection to her sister.

" This is going to work, but time is growing short." Astaraa said." We are going to use this wintercrystal leave, and then project your spirit to the same place where Gentyl is."

Genstyl nodded. " We just need to get it going. Too much talking just gets me sober." She said to Astaraa.

Astaraa nodded and sat Genstyl down. Astaraa handed her the crystal leave and then said some magical words. The leave glowed and Genstyl felt her self flying. Then, with sharpness, Genstyl felt herself someplace else. " Hello?" She said.

"Uh, who is there?" Gentyl said back.

" Umm … its me … your sister Genstyl."

" Genstyl? What are you doing inside of me?" Gentyl said

"Inside of …. " Genstyl started. Right away Genstyl knew what had happened. Astaraa was correct, she was right where Gentyl is. Right inside her very body. The two sharing the same space. Bother, once again things had gone gnomish.

The Doctor examined the invitation under a magnifying array.

The Maggot Lord will soon have a bride. A bride with a pulse. It has a name. A dreadful name. A liar's name. It will be joined. The Cowbies will be denied. The appetizers must be fried. A crimson tide. For the crushing bride. But whither... The Stag Party?

Doctor Wolfe stopped in mid-stride while the fragmented synapses tried to sort themselves in the right order. Ever since the Karazhan incident, the flood of ideas and thoughts was constant and frequently non-sequential. The invitation kept coming up in the mental queue, so it had to be important for some reason. This required further inquiry.

"To the Scuttling Chair!" he shouted to no one. He hopped (foot still raised) into a comfortable lounge chair. The chair sprouted half a dozen mechanical legs and, living up to its designation, scuttled out of the laboratory. The cure for Capricorn would have to wait (Cancer just needed a light buttery sauce and some claw crackers. It seemed so simple, really...)

Cjarsa read the announcement. She knew of Abominus, almost everyone had heard of Abominus. Forsaken warrior of Grim Maw Clan. And Gentyl, well, Gentyl had been her commander, in her last life. She had been a paladin of the Presidium until death had taken her, and she had awoken, as this: a forsaken warrior, for the light had abandoned her.

The announcement should have surprised her, but all it did was make her angry, but for a reason totally unrelated to the wedding. She was angry that once again a forsaken male had chosen outside their race. What was it with forsaken men being attracted to blood elves, humans, and other races of question! She hated herself, even though she attempted to keep up her undeathly appearance as much as she could, with oils, fashion, perfumes, etcetera. She had become vain.

She wanted nothing more than for this wedding to fail. How could a forsaken even marry a human?!?! She let out a ramble of curses, balled up the announcement and stomped off to the closest tavern to partake in her newest hobby: getting drunk.

The bossgnome had called Kezrin in to take a letter for Abominus; she'd found the three people he'd requested, although there was a last minute substitution. It seemed the priestess Magdelyn had been injured, but a lady named Elesebeth was filling in.

Kezrin grimaced at the thought of the wedding; she really had no interest in attending anything of the matrimonial nature. Worse still, she'd told Myzzi she would ask for some time off after they (well, after Kezrin) had delivered that anonymous letter to the Undercity, but the wedding meant everyone was too busy for her to take a break.

The goblin just hoped that the wedding was over quick.