A Tour of CarlHalla - Part 1

The following article is part one of a multi-part series covering the detailed inner workings of the Carls' Guild Hall (aka CarlHalla). Our undercover operative, Ghostly Wombat (pictured to the left), is obviously not of the Carl clan. However, at great risk to herself and her various pets (most notably her wombats), she infiltrated this heavily-guarded fortress to reveal to the world exactly what goes on when the doors of CarlHalla are closed. This [dramatic pause] is her story.

(Ghostly Wombat gesticulates wildly, most likely at something large and fearsome.)

I'll cut right to the chase: the splendor of CarlHalla is unmatched anywhere in the Guild Isles, from NUDE's eyesore (apparently designed by a color-blind three-year-old) to the former WoS haven with its splendiferous waterfall. CarlHalla not only meets these (admittedly low) standards, it surpasses them, then mocks them for their abundant inadequacies.

A holy light seems to ooze from CarlHalla's pores, pouring forth onto residents and visitors alike.

The wonders of CarlHalla are evident as soon as one enters its hallowed halls. The gaping entryway that funnels members and their sponsored "guests" alike into the main chambers guides them directly to the feet of their giant of a Guild Lord. His intent glare down at you is nearly enough to distract you from the amazing carving that appears to have taken residence beneath his feet.

Our reporter braves the Guild Lord's glare for this groundbreaking footage of a compass. Carved in the floor.

Despite the evident beauty of the compass, the Guild Lord's incessant throat-clearing and muttering about "kids on [his] artwork" drives any curious travelers away within a few moments. However, they soon realize that the scenery is just beginning...

Grenth is evidently held in high regard by the Carl

The gargantuan stained-glass window pictured above is the centerpiece to carlHalla's shrine to Grenth, the almighty ruler of the underworld and Dwayna's mortal enemy. Although the window has a staircase leading up to it, the stairs appear to stem from a bottomless reflecting pool, perhaps implying that the Carl worships no one, but certainly can appreciate fine art at discount prices (there was a chip in the glass that evidently reduced its list price).

The reflecting pool appears to be fed by a series of large gargoyle statues steadily drooling into it. While this reporter is uncertain as to where the spittle ends up, she decided not to let any splash onto her sandals; gargoyle saliva is notoriously hard to get out from between your toes. The pool also appeared to double as Tankarific Carl's commode/vomit repository when he was too lazy to wander over to the actual facilities.

After backing away from the spit receptacle, visitors may note the remarkable lighting conditions provided by CarlHalla's benevolent residents. The main hall is lit entirely by candlelight, outside of what little natural light seeps through Grenth's stern visage. Candles are scattered about the floor and lined up in wall sconces, providing lovely backlighting for those wandering about the main floor.

Lighting options abound in CarlHalla

My more perceptive readers will note that I managed to smuggle my pet thorn wolf into CarlHalla as well; I won't say how, and it wasn't pleasant. Judging by the prevalence of minipet waste products scattered throughout the floor and smushed into wall cracks, the home of the Carls is very much pet-friendly, and appears to host a wide variety of creatures. Oddly enough, I didn't notice any water djinn waste, but perhaps they just clean up after their elementals.

The massive stone pillars that support the high-reaching ceiling of the hall must have been built by giants (perhaps relatives of their Guild Lord), and judging by the levels of mossy growth on them, it must've been a long time ago. This leads me to believe that the Carls have a long and storied past, or at least are ardent horticulturalists.

Judging by the claw marks etched randomly on each pillar, I suspect that some of the guild residents have been attempting to subsist at least partially on this substance. That said, it didn't appear appetizing, and actually seemed to burn slightly when its leaves were broken. As I studied the markings more closely (they appeared to be made by a spear, and had glitter of some sort lodged in them...), I suddenly noticed what must be the centerpiece of the Carl art collection:

Stupid wyvern... doesn't even know we're watching it...

This house-sized painting "dorfs" most any viewer, as can be noted by your intrepid reporter standing dead-center (along with some yokels gawking at the camera crew). It's most unfortunate that the depicted wyvern appears to have gotten itself into such an entanglement; they're usually rather graceful creatures, which makes one suspect that this particular animal had been previously domesticated--possibly by Tankarific, during one of his drunken adoption drives. Sadly, most domesticated lizards die fairly quickly after being re-introduced to the wild, and this one was most likely no exception.

The run-down shrine is a testament to either Carl's practicality or, more likely, laziness. Either way, my thorn wolf was unimpressed.

Moving on past the painting, visitors arrive at a shrine that has apparently seen better days, perhaps because it has been superseded by Grenth's main-hall residence. One of the previously mentioned giants must have stomped in the middle, causing cracks to develop radiating out from the center of the pedestal and knocking down most of the main arches (that now appear to be broken pillars). How depressing that any guild could let one of their holiest landmarks become so run-down...

Having grown weary of broken stonework and depressing art, I decided to explore CarlHalla's exterior in hopes of finding artifacts that survived the test of time in better condition. I was not disappointed; immediately upon exiting, I discovered a bridge that, while not entirely functional (it took my camera crew and I hours to get the above shot without slipping through to the waters below), was certainly fascinating to look upon. The Carls seem to have a penchant for metalwork, as evinced by the aforementioned candleabras. I would later discover that this theme does indeed pervade the entirety of the residence.

This once-lovely fountain appears to have been partially consumed by a landslide, probably caused by some of those accursed wurms that seem to prowl around these lands. My thorn wolf was most disappointed, as he was growing thirsty and couldn't abide by drinking out of the fetid reflecting pool in the main hall. Unfortunately, this fountain appeared to be long out-of-service, judging by the dirt-filled interior and the grass growing in the basin. I sent the thorn wolf off to seek out some refreshment while I continued to explore. I soon discovered one of the strangest artifacts of all...

Simply an ugly flag. Who picked this out, Diabolical Carl?

While the flag shown above appears to provide more evidence that the Carl has a fixation for decorative iron, I found myself puzzled by the presence of the relatively new flag hanging from it. After all, the Carl's official guild cape (of which I expertly made a counterfeit, as shown above) is black and white, so as to make it absolutely smashing with any ensemble (even shiny purple nipples, as unfortunately demonstrated by one of the hall's more ... peculiar residents). This flag, however, was unadorned red--a very unCarlish color, and seemingly out of place with their well-documented eccentric tastes. I decided to make a note of the item, but had to press on, lest my invasion be discovered.

Upon reaching CarlHalla's back door, I realized that I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble by simply sneaking in this entrance, as it never appears to be locked. Even heaving upon the so-called "Gate Lock" seemed to have no effect--the gates were determined to remain open for all to frequent. This made my adroit infiltration plan--hiding in an empty barrel labeled "BOOZE" in one of Tankarific's daily shipments and hoping he didn't open mine before passing out in a drunken stupor--seem rather pointless. However, I must warn readers that by the time this article is published, the Carls will no doubt have rectified the situation and have posted monkeys (governed by wombat overlords) at the gates to ensure that no non-believers gain entrance.

This marks the end of my first day at CarlHalla; I decided to hide behind the obviously-unused Gate Lock mechanism until the following morning, as I could hear someone yelling at her teammates (overlaid by the tones of drunken singing), and knew that if the Carls discovered me, my thorn wolf and I would have much larger problems than Tankarific's anger at discovering one of his booze barrels empty. I resolved to continue exploring the exterior of CarlHalla tomorrow, once everyone had drank and danced themselves stupid. I expected to have plenty of time to explore, for if there's one certainty in the world, it's that Carls cannot remain in one place for long, and wherever they go next, they're very much likely to wind up lost.