A Man Gets Lonely

A man gets lonely while he's out and about on the questing trail. Sure, there are other heroes traveling along for the ride...a bossy and impatient mesmer, a crazy necro, and a crop of hired lackeys. They're no sort of companions when a man needs a special kind of comfort.

Most of the time, a man can wear himself out smashing things with axe to dull the gnawing hunger for intimacy. When that fails, or there's nothing left to smash with axe, there's always the cold comfort of the bottle. People think a man gets falling down drunk all the time for the simple joy of inebriation. Well, they'd be right, but there are also those times when sorrows need to be drowned in dwarven ale.


Just when you think you can't take the loneliness anymore, you wander across a special someone. Tentatively, you approach, hopes high that she'll sense the chemistry as well. It's not just the sight of her, it's also the sweet musk of her scent. It's a sort of intoxication that you can't get from mere alcohol.


Of course, a really special companion doesn't give herself over easily. There is a subtle and coy exchange of looks. There has to be a recognition of a true connection between you before baser urges are acted upon.


When that magic moment comes, and that come-hither look is directed your way, you know that your loneliness is about to end. When it's all over, you need a cigarette, and to high tail it out of there before day-break when she wakes up.


After you score and make a clean getaway, you party Carl style. After all, there are plenty of yaks in the bend to comfort you the next time you get lonely.

Carl Insurrection At Hand?

The Carls reside in the Isle of the Dead because, unlike other sissy guilds, we fear nothing. Also, we're really lazy and this configuration keeps all our lackeys nearby for easy access. This allows for more time to discuss the greater issues of the day such as the current state of corn and wombat futures, and how many times a hungover warrior can barf in the pool behind the storage chest before it starts to really stink up the joint.

Trouble is brewing in Carlhalla as the Guild leader has grown drunk on her own sense of power. The Carl only approves of getting drunk on substances such as booze, huffing beetle snuff, and inhaling the noxious fumes emanating from Fancypants's pants.

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The trouble started when the message above flickered into view as Carls entered the guild hall. Previously, the guild leader had outlawed yak and goat porn leaving the Carls nothing with which to arouse themselves beyond the highly fetishist (and honestly, pricey) erotic dolyak material. Fancypants in particular had acquired quite a collection as he is a great fan of "XXXL" sized companions. In fact, it is recommended that the words "yak" or "dolyak" not be mentioned in his presence as he becomes "overly excited" and it is "unpleasant" for all involved. Seriously unpleasant.

The evil that infests the CARL Guild Hall and is threatening to take it over.

The excuse given for the outlawing of racy dolyak materials rings hollow and is seen as a flimsy cover-up of the guild leader's true motivations as the wombats that live in Carlhalla are a well-trained team of crack mercenaries who meticulously follow the orders of their Carlish superiors. Various Carls have their suspicions. One guess is that she is merely attempting to free up space to cram more of her collectible crap (as discussed in a previous piece) into the various storage spaces in Carlhalla. Others suspect that she may be trying to introduce some sort of new and disturbing erotica (e.g., Asura porn) in place of the Carl's preferred stimulatory literature. Most of the Carls are responding to the situation by rambling incoherently and shaking their fists at their leader (though the former is really nothing new) because of their sexual frustration.

A filthy minkey falls to the ground in a state of confused intoxication after forcibly whiffing Fancypants's pants. (file photo)

If the leader's cruel and unusual restrictions are not lifted, there may be a violent insurrection among the Carls. Well, probably not. Insurrection is too much effort. They'll probably just sneak in more goat, yak and dolyak smut and do a better job of hiding it from their leader. She'll likely give Fancypants's dresser a wide berth so they'll just cram things in there.

Mystery Disease Strikes the Carl

Smiting Carl looks on as Ghostly Wombat, who likely contracted the disease after sneaking into the Carl guild hall (Carlhalla), goes into a fit of jerky spasms. As a smiter, he is helpless to apply any healing techniques to her in her hour of need so he stands by and applauds her entertaining disorder.

A mystery disease is striking certain members of the Carl clan. The symptoms include spastic and/or clumsy movements, a tendency to drool more frequently than usual for a Carl, and a loss of desire for corn. The slobber in particular is actually an alarming amount considering the impressive amount of spittle of which the average Carl is capable. Great pools of this oozing is collecting on the floor of Carlhalla so visitors are encouraged to watch their step or risk a sock-soaking of possibly infectious Carl juices.

Tanktastic does her impression of someone with an I.Q. lower than 80. Since she has an I.Q. of 68, it's hard to say if this is a symptom of the unknown disease or if she's just playing with her pet Rurik on an average day. Nonetheless, it is a disturbing sight. (file photo)

Adopting a vacant and dumb look on one's face while clumsily stomping on the ground with one foot is another possible symptom, but it's hard to know for sure as Carls are prone to doing this pretty much all the time anyway.

Virtuous Carl consults with a doctor who could tear himself away from the sensory delights of the guild hall long enough to offer a theory about the cause of the mystery disease. This particular doctor theorized that certain Carls may be in the advanced stages of a mutant yak-based venereal disease.

Doctors claim to be working around the clock in an attempt to deal with this disease. However, this news source noticed that most of the doctors seemed to be spending their time riffling through the collection of yak porn hidden behind the Festival Hat maker and scarfing down the excess stores of corn. However, between trips to the "spanking pond" and mouthfuls of corn, one doctor said he believes that the disease is likely psychosomatic in nature. The doctor believes that the nature of Carl is to constantly behave in confusing and unpredictable ways and frequent socialization between Carls forces them to act more and more bizarre in order to differentiate themselves from the other Carls. In essence, the unpredictable and odd becomes predictable and mundane so new, dark and increasingly disturbing levels of Carlishness must be plumbed.

When asked for a comment on this theory, Virtuous Carl responded with, "what?" and adopted a confused and dumb-founded look proving that he, too, may have been infected. Clearly, the Carls are not overly troubled by this new development, but others may be well-advised to stay clear of them for the time being, particularly if you aren't a fan of drooling and seizure-like dancing moves.

New Erotic Materials Shop Attracts Enthusiastic Patrons

Tankarific Carl and another interested patron are lead to the grand opening of a new adult materials store by cloven-hoofed smut purveyor, Warped Antler Goatfoot.

Shoppers flocked to a new adult materials shop which opened up last weekend in the Asuran territories. The shop, which offers a wide range of books, magazines, pleasure-giving devices, artificial "partners" and a vast array of tonics and elixirs to assist in enhancing ones erotic encounters hopes to cater to the large population of local perverts and traveling heroes with esoteric proclivities.

An Asuran, perusing the vast array of explicit goat-based material.

The shop proprietor, Mr. Warped Antler Goatfoot, informed the Carl that a wide variety of explicit materials were available, though there is a heavy concentration on goat pornography as it is of great interest to the small, gremlin-like people who largely populate the Asuran territories. Said Mr. Goatfoot, "For a smug and intellectually superior people, the Asurans are heavy consumers of base pleasures. Inflatable partners are an especially big seller as they can be easily tucked into a backpack or belt pouch for evenings of erotic distraction after a day of unfettered carnage." Mr. Goatfoot then added proudly, "Most of them are modeled on my sister."

In addition to salacious materials and objects for goat fetishists, there is a small but stimulating collection of yak items for those who prefer fantasizing about plus-size companions and a variety of specialty items representing the indigenous species of all the lands indecent adventurers who visit the Asuran territories come from. Unsurprisingly, the biggest selling items are potions designed to aggrandize the various appendages of the male members of all species and the size of the mammary glands of females of all stripes.

The shop is open from 2:00 p.m. to midnight every day of the week and items of special interest may be ordered at any time with a wait of approximately 2 weeks for delivery. The shop takes all major items (e.g., rare dyes) in barter, the "horn" of any species which can be used to distill into elixirs or payment in gold. As a convenience to those who find themselves overexcited after exposure to the shop's wares, a large hedgerow is located behind the shop so that patrons may take refuge in a non-public place to "relieve" themselves.