The World of Baeg Tobar

"The Engineer's Prayer" by Daniel Tyler Gooden

2009-06-30T17:49:00.002-05:00

This week we've got a sneak peek at the first short story by our very own Content Editor, Dan Gooden. The Engineer's Prayer gives us a look at the Brailee (Losa's airship) and the men and women who keep her up and running:

Atop the Brailee, with only sky above and wind everywhere else, the young engineer lifted his feet and carefully pushed his body up until he rested on his index finger. Wrapped in leather, cold-weather gear, he looked like a sausage.

Torman was barely heard over the roaring wind. “Brun, this is amazing!”

“Any second the captain will order full burn, and then you’ll feel some weight in your shoes,” the old mechanic shouted back. Torman was nearly floating because the Brailee was almost in freefall.

The old man grinned at his companion's enjoyment but turned back to look at the sea with a sour face. They were still thousands of feet up, but the lady was a heavy bitch and her mass was hard to stop.

The Brailee was the first of the great steam-driven airships. Her iron skeleton was surrounded by the taishu culmerant, a viscous soup found somewhere in the creature’s stinking innards. Some genius engineer had boiled it down, and now the blue gel served as flesh and soul to the Brailee. When warmed by her hundred-odd Aiemer engines the culmerant could carry the Brailee—her bombs, her iron skeleton, the propellers and steam equipment that drove them, the thick shielding across her long belly all her--massive tonnage as high above Baeg Tobar as one could go and still breathe.

Brun took his eyes off the rising sea and tried to peer through the deep blue culmerant. The wind was too loud to hear the captain’s order through the relay tubes, but he would see it. Buried under the blue were the Aiemer engines; when fired they would be like stars exploding in the night sky. An engine's hard dunnum steel petals would create a small pocket of Aiemer; its light would be brilliant, and its massive outpouring of heat would arrest the ship’s stone-like plummet. If it didn’t, they would spear right through the taishu below them, taking the Brailee, its crew, and the hundred thousand Yuin-damned shuen that lived on it right to the bottom of the Yan Po ocean.

“Tools buckled down?” Brun shouted over his shoulder.

Torman dropped back to the deck and shouted into his ear. “I’m ready. You got your burn glasses?” The kid was green; he’d come straight from Deos and the Pilean Engineering Academy, but he was full of good details. Those engines would be blinding at a full burn, even outside the shell. He pulled on his goggles over his fur-lined hood. They couldn’t repair what they couldn't see.

Brun felt the engines before he saw them. It was like some drunkard had leaned on his shoulders. The burn rose then out of the blue guts of the Brailee. The Aiemer engines blossomed like suns and the light exploded up at them. The weight doubled, then tripled, and he let it push him flat on the deck. Now the drunk sat on his chest and Brun fought to breath. He counted, concentrating on the numbers.

The captain was attacking out of the sun, falling in its light to surprise the floating shuen city. With their weight and speed, Torman had calculated the full burn needed to level the Brailee would last twenty seconds. Any number past that and they’d be a drowning ship rather than a flying one.

Torman figured right. At 18, when the wind quit roaring, the drunk climbed off Brun’s chest. The sea and taishu were still lost behind the wash of blinding light. The engines would burn at full until they got positive lift. Only then would the captain throttle them back.

“What a ride,” Torman shouted. The wind had stilled, and from somewhere below the Brailee Brun heard the familiar sound of bombs crashing into their targets at close range. He cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to see through the brilliance. He found Torman, faint as a ghost in the wash of light.

“When we get the all-clear, grab your tools and get back to amidships,” the mechanic ordered.

“I know. A full burn should put out 27,000 Vuls of heat on just one engine,” said Torman, fading out as he started calculating the number of engines in the upper nose and shoulder of the Brailee. Brun didn’t care how many Vuls. All he knew was that the heat was incredible. It moved through the culmerant slowly, but when it reached the outside deck it could take a frozen pot of water and boil it off in under a minute. There was no excuse not to be safely amidships on the observation deck by then.

“Cinching down,” came the call over the order-relay tube. The light dimmed, and they could see the whitecaps of the sea around them. The towers of the taishu shrunk as the Brailee climbed back up. Brun said a quick prayer and thanked Yuin Losa had been aboard. To attempt timing the mechanics of turning from freefall to positive climb just before sea level was stupid. The Black Queen, the God-King’s own flesh and blood, had no doubt saved them from crashing into the sea with her divine presence.

Torman rubbed his eyes and took down his hood. “I don’t think my goggles worked,” he said. “I still see an after-image.”

Brun turned to find the young engineer looking down at the deck, rubbing the lens of his glasses. He followed his gaze and found one burning sun still shining deep under the deck. He dropped to his knees, pulled the whistle over the relay tube, and blew two loud blasts. “Cinch down failure!” he shouted, squinting to take another look at the spear of light. “Secondary level…engine 48, or 68.”

“Grab your bag,” he started to shout to Torman, but the boy already had the access hatch open and was switching over to his safety line.

The heat was already beginning to build. It rose out of the shaft as hot breath from some waking beast. The two engineers slide down the rail, Torman ahead and watching the bright star.

“It’s 68 all right!” the boy hollered as they stopped their descent at the junction. The small room seemed an underwater observatory, its wide walls the semi-transparent culmerant in which the banks of engines floated. The light from the engines bathed the engineers, the dials and gauges all in a rippled blue.

Engine 68 burned all out. Brun had slapped his shaded goggles back over his eyes, but still the engine was an eye-tearing blaze. Its heat was moving aft quick, too—he couldn’t feel it yet, but he’d learned to watch the culmerant. Something about the way the light pierced the gel—a crisp sparkling—could tell you it was getting hot.

“The intake wheel is jammed,” Brun grunted. He braced his feet against the pipe and pulled again. The wheel would not budge.

“What about the steam return?” Torman asked as he lent his weight to the wheel. When it still failed to move, Brun agreed. Closing off the steam pipe would freeze up the engine like a dam below a waterwheel.

That valve turned, and the petals on Engine 68 started to collapse. As they fell the Aiemer fled its hollow, but only for a moment. When the fire renewed, Torman dropped to his knees, trying to get below the burn to see.

“Yuin-damned,” he muttered. “The return pipe cracked. It's spilling out into the culmerant!”

Brun saw it too. The steam had punched a hole in the blue gel. It shoveled its way through the material, pressing out toward the surface skin. Somewhere it would blow out, hopefully not under some important station, and the culmerant would collapse back onto itself—if they could get the pipe shut down.

Resource Guide Artwork - Pileaus

2009-06-24T10:29:00.004-05:00

Hey folks,

I didn't realize just how long it had been since my last update to the blog. I apologize! It's been over a month and that's not good at all. So, here is some artwork for our Resource Guide featuring the Empire of Pileaus. Art by Mike Hamlett.
Hope you like this - we were all pretty blown away by it! I'll also make sure we get back onto a weekly update schedule. We've just been so busy trying to get things ready for launch - getting new art generated, finishing off short stories, and editing various novel and RPG material.

We'll have more soon!

"Fae Song" by Mark Adams

2009-05-15T14:10:00.002-05:00

Mark's second story, Fae Song, tells the story of the Emperor's death. This is a huge event in the world of Baeg Tobar, one that really needed a great story - and boy, did it get one! Mark totally knocked this one out of the park.

Here's a quick peek:

I watch her, as ever, the bastion of light in the darkness, as Lani and Pileaus have a small meal brought to them and dine. I know that my brother, Baelic, the Shadivengen bound to Pileaus, is undoubtedly in the room as well, but I can only guess where he has stationed himself. Not a true brother, of course, but in some ways the few Shadivengen that remain are tied together by bonds far greater than those created by blood.

“Sing for me, Lani,” comes Pileaus’ tired voice. “Something to ease my thoughts.”

“I would be happy to,” she replies with a smile. I watch as she takes a long drink from her water, clearly sorting through her repertoire. She rises, her voice rising in a clear, strong tone. I follow behind her, never far from her side. The song she has chosen is familiar to me, one of the songs she sings to her unborn. I grimace, for it is one of the songs Cordellon taught her. The man grates at me, far too knowledgeable in illicit Fae material. How did he come by so many Fae songs? I cannot bring myself to trust him, despite Lani’s vain attempts to bring her two closest confidants together. Lani forbids me to take any action against Cordellon, however, and I abide by her wishes. For now. To his credit, Cordellon does appear to have Lani’s best interest in mind, so it is easier for me to tolerate him.

Lani moves behind Pileaus, running her hand across his head as she sings. She rubs his shoulders, easing the tension out of him with her voice and hands, and the Emperor’s face relaxes. She ends the song, continuing to massage his shoulders, and starts another.

“I have heard these,” he says, stopping her. “Sing me something new. Something I have not heard before. Something that you don’t sing to my son.”

She smiles and kisses the top of his head. “Alright. I have one that was taught to me not all that long ago. I have not tried to sing it for you.” She retrieves her water and drinks again before facing him. “It is an old song, taught to me by Cordellon last summer,” she explains. I notice that Pileaus’s face pinches slightly at the eyes upon the mention of the teacher, but it quickly smoothes away. That bothers me, and my hackles rise in warning.

I reach up and loosen my blades in their sheaths as she begins again, her voice strong and clear, the tone unwavering. The words are beyond my understanding, but I have never been able to grasp the old languages, despite Lani’s attempts to educate me. My ears do not hear the words, just a string of melodic sounds that run together in a pleasant fashion. It does seem to have a calming effect, however, and I realize with a start that I have closed my eyes.

Suddenly alert, I shake my head to clear it of the drowsiness. The bond I share with Lani suddenly tightens, and I know instinctively that she is coming under duress. A quick look at her face tells me that my fears are correct. Her lips, still moving with the words of the song, have drained of blood, and her eyes have gone wide, the pupils dilating. I start to take a step to her side when the floor tiles of the chamber begin to vibrate with the growing power of the song.

Baelic shifts into view, dressed very much like myself, and kneels next to Pileaus. A quick glance at the Emperor confirms that the man is definitely feeling some ill effects as well.

“What is happening?” Baelic shouts at Pileaus, but the emperor makes no sound, a trickle of blood beginning to run from his nose. Baelic looks up, staring directly at Lani. “What are you doing!” he shouts at her.

Lani does not answer, her eyes flicking wildly about the room. Her hands have risen to her throat, but the song continues to issue forth, her pure voice straining against the words but unable to stop. Baelic stands, reaching up to draw his matched blades in a single, smooth motion. The firelight turns the edge of one of his blades crimson as he points it at her. Like me, Baelic seems to feel the force of the song, but its power fails to keep him rooted in place.

“End this, Lani, or you give me no choice.”

In Killing Gods Short Comic

2009-05-07T09:54:00.005-05:00

Well, about a year and a half ago we were kicking around the idea of submitting some content to Heavy Metal magazine in an effort to get some press. Daniel Tyler Gooden worked up a really fantastic short comic story called "In Killing Gods" and Gene Kelly did the illustration.

Well, quite recently, Gene finished up all the linework for the project and it is just SO good, I thought I should share some stuff from it...

Synopsis -

"As First Disciple to the God-King, Merenui submits her mind, body, and soul to absolute service. But when Merenui's faith is shaken, she treads into heresy looking for answers that jeopardize all she has lived for."
I expect that we will eventually post this story on the main Baeg Tobar website at some point, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy these glimpses!

"Discord" by Emma Melville

2009-04-20T19:48:00.002-05:00

Emma's done a great job developing Nikos, former member of the shadowy Bards' Guild and a close friend of Aetos, King of Thila. Here's a peak at "Discord," a story which delves into Nikos's history:

“Nikos!” The man who confronted him was a singer of exceptional skill. He’d been one of Nikos’s teachers, a master of harmony and resonance. His voice rang through the hall, carrying its rich timbre to every corner.

Nikos relaxed his firm clasp on the harp and tried a smile. “Master Karos, how good to see you again.” He was ignored.

Karos resolutely fixed his gaze on a point two inches to the left of Nikos’s head in a most disconcerting manner. “Welcome,” he said, his voice lacking any warmth or sincerity. “Do come with me.”

The tall singer strode off across the marble floor without a backward glance. Nikos briefly considered staying where he was or even leaving, but it wasn’t every day a bard was summoned – however rudely – to the guild. Failure to respond to such a summons was simply unacceptable.

With a heavy heart, he hurried to catch Karos and fell into step beside him.

“I wondered why-”

“You’ll be told.” Karos still refused to look straight at him.

“You’re obviously not happy about it,” Nikos said. “Can’t you tell me something?”

“No.”

They walked a few steps further. Nikos hoped there would be more, but Karos continued in silence.

“How about if I leave now?” Nikos suggested.

Karos finally look him in the eye. “Don’t be an idiot, Nikos. You’re right; I don’t like this one bit, but we’re saving the guild, so...“ He turned away and walked on.

“Saving the guild?”

“Enough. You’ll be told. Through here.” He led the way into the testing chamber at the back of the Great Hall.

Nikos remembered the room from his very first visit. Here was where all musicians were judged by their skills. The small chamber was perfectly round, its acoustics faultless. The floor tiles with their central circle of pale green were occupied by a single chair, placed in the very center. Here the applicant would sit to play while those assessing could view him from every angle.
Two guild members stood in the room today. They turned to face the door as Karos pushed it open. Nikos recognized both of them. Thera had tutored him on the harp and assured Nikos on graduation that his playing would one day surpass even her’s. It had been the greatest compliment he had ever received. Today, like Karos, she couldn’t meet his gaze. The third bard, standing perfectly still and watching Nikos with hard eyes, was the head of the guild. Gylmyn Mor was as grim faced as ever, forbidding lines etched in each side of his long, thin nose. Karos stepped away from Nikos and joined his colleagues, indicating as he did that Nikos should take the chair.

Judgment-the word ran circles round Nikos’s head. This was a place of judgment, of testing. But he was already a member of the guild, and he knew he had done nothing wrong.

Such a thought made the cold room, with its silent judges, even worse. “I’m a Thilan,” he thought. “It must be that. I’m going to pay for Pileaus’s failures.”

“We have heard the paths of the future,” Gylmyn announced, disregarding all introductory courtesies. “They are strident with discord, and the tunes of some we love will be silenced forever.”

Nikos blinked in surprise. This was nothing like he’d expected.

“It is clear,” Gylmyn continued, glancing at his companions who stood either side of him. “Is it not?”

“Clear,” Karos agreed, staring again at the wall beyond Nikos.

“It saddens me that it is so,” Thera said.

“It is clear,” Gylmyn repeated, “that all disharmony to the guild spreads from your tune in the world.”

New The Torn God Pages

2009-04-09T10:13:00.006-05:00

Hey folks,

Well, we've had a bit of a shift on the production of The Torn God. Shannon Potratz, who was going to be doing the comic has gotten entirely too busy to continue work on it. However, he's not leaving us! Rather, he'll be moving over to work The Unmade Man. He'll be contributing an illustration per chapter per week. We're all looking forward to seeing what he comes up with!

Regarding The Torn God, Alan Gallo has stepped up to take it over. You may remember Alan working on The Rise and Fall of Pileaus, which he did an exceptional job on. We felt it only right that we move him over to take over The Torn God as well. Below are a few of his pages so far!
And please be sure to go over and check out our brand new forums!

Forums now live!

2009-04-07T15:39:00.003-05:00

Hey folks,

The new Baeg Tobar forums are now live and active! By all means, please head over and say hello!

Thanks!

"Dreams and Nightmares"

2009-03-23T21:10:00.003-05:00

Here's a snippet from Dreams and Nightmares by yours truly, which continues the story of Darin and gives us a look at the noble Nai'Oigher.

“May I present to you Mistress Obata, the Lady Dream, ruler and conduit of fantasy and desire.”

Dream stormed haughtily into her brother’s throne room. His terse summons the day before had infuriated her and sent her attendants diving for cover. Just who did he think he was, demanding her attendance like that? Sometimes his lack of gratitude for all she’d done for him was absolutely disgusting.

And why did he choose to live in such a dreary pit of a palace? Dream’s bare feet prickled against the hard stone floor, and she fought the urge to shiver. Her sheer gown, woven from the strands of joyous visions and carefree daydreams, wasn’t much help against the chill, and its lustrous shimmer was lost without a light source to reflect, but she refused to give her brother the satisfaction of causing her to change her wardrobe. She supposed it was better that she couldn’t see much of anything, if only because the darkness hid whatever vile, twisted things lurked in the corners of her brother’s lair.

Like Dream, her brother was Nai’Oigher, the elite of the Braegheayn nobles. Anything he’d asked for could’ve been his: the richest clothing, the finest foods, the most luxurious home. And yet he chose to live in a hole, far from the Dreaming Lands’ sole city, Maeda Criacao, indulging in whatever despicable desire struck his fancy. He could’ve been someone worth her time, rather than being a no one she barely tolerated.

Then again, she supposed such abhorrent behavior was likely just part of a day’s work for anyone named Nightmare.

Dream waited impatiently for a response to her herald’s announcement. Just as she was about to clear her throat in annoyance, a quick scale from a violin wafted through the dank air and sent a tingle through her bones. She shook off the feeling before it could take hold of her.

“It is typically considered good form to return a guest’s greeting with respect and courtesy,” she snarled to the surrounding darkness. “It is also common practice to light a torch or two when one knows company is on its way.”

Another quick scale screeched across the violin, and the sconces lining the walls exploded to life. Dream held her composure and didn’t so much as blink.

Nightmare’s throne room was a massive space, larger even than her own, Dream noticed with dismay. The walls were all sharp, abrupt angles. In the flickering firelight, they seemed alive and in motion – and slightly frightening.

Far across the throne room, a young man sat sprawled in a dilapidated chair perched across a crooked dais. His hair was long and unkempt, his clothing little more than tattered rags hanging loosely from his spare frame. He was dirty and exceptionally pale, as if he hadn’t seen the world beyond Nightmare’s catacombs in quite a while.

His violin, on the other hand, looked good as new. Oiled to a lustrous shine, it glistened softly in the strange shadows cast across the room.

Dream clicked her tongue and put her hands on her hips. “My idiot brother had best have a good reason to leave a mortal to greet me.”

“That he does,” the young man crooned as he swung himself down to the floor and strode toward her. She could tell by the slight twitch in his leg that he was doing well to hide his dread. It was shameful how her brother always felt the need to frighten people into doing his bidding. Dream herself was above such tactics, as well as such persuasions. “He knew it would make your blood boil.”

She just smiled and sauntered forward. “My brother has always known how to get a rise out of me. A singular talent, that.”

The man sneered arrogantly and played a sharp set of chords on his violin. In spite of herself, Dream shivered a bit. His parlor tricks were becoming annoying.

“Perhaps not so much,” he said tauntingly. He stopped ten paces away, trying to leave a careful separation between them.

But Dream kept on walking. “If it’s talent you want...”

Sarcillian Tree Art

2009-03-13T09:34:00.002-05:00

Height: 12’-15’
Width: 30’ canopy

The sarcillian tree is a disgusting example of carnivorous flora. Its leaves are dark green with mottled black spots. They are long and thin and hang over the tree like the branches of a weeping willow, making it hard to spot as a sarcillian. It has black, flaking bark covered with four to six inch holes that look and ooze like lesions. The interior is a soft, slug-like flesh that can extend out of these holes like eyeless worms to eat. An oily coating on this flesh and in the tree’s bark makes it immune to fire.

The sarcillian is found mostly in stagnant waters, swamps, and river deltas, as the tree has the capacity to pull itself through muddy or soft soil. It travels slowly in dirt, about three feet per minute. This increases in thin mud or water to about 30 feet per minute. Due to its slow movement it is almost completely silent and most dangerous at night as it sneaks up on its prey.

The tree propagates by planting seeds in its victims. The process is often slow, taking a day or more. The victim is then released to stagger away. The seeds cause the body’s temperature to spike after 12 hours and the victim begins to seek out water to cool itself. As the victim enters or drinks water, the seeds erupt and kill the man or animal. It generally falls in or near the water where the sarcillian saplings then take root and consume the rest of the flesh.

Its weakness is salt, which dries up the oil and flesh much like a slug’s. Those that live in sarcillian territories often sow salt into the soil around their homes and villages to keep the trees from coming near. The seeds can be removed with salt and the victim saved, but it often leaves lasting scars.

Art by Scott Godlewski.

BT RPG

2009-03-06T15:05:00.003-06:00

Work continues on the Baeg Tobar pencil-and-paper RPG. We've decided to frame it as a secret document developed by a Riddari that the Fae courts can use as a means of predicting mortal behavior.

Here's a sneak peek at the current draft's Introduction:

It has not escaped the Courts’ notice (nor that of this humble author) that the Duine of the Dying Lands, despite their mortality, could one day pose a threat to those of us in the Dreaming Lands. The following document, created at the behest of the Courts, describes a simulation of the Duine of the Pilean Continent to be used as an assessment of the Duine threat and to prepare future defenses against mortal incursion. To most properly defeat one’s enemy, one must be able to think like one’s enemy.

Simulation participants will utilize a combination of precise traits and carefully balanced ratios to assume the identities of Duine characters. Said characters can then be placed in any number of unique situations as a means of exposing their workings, both individually and as a group. Completion of this simulation will reveal much about the chosen characters, providing a new, deeper understanding of the strange mortals that inhabit our sister realm. Aids including miniatures, maps, and costumes can make the simulation easier to visualize, though the only necessary tools are parchment, a quill, and a set of dice.

Participants must be mindful at all times of their characters’ impending demises. Regardless of the party’s success or failure at their given tasks, its members will all eventually die. Mortality is not an easy concept for those of us in the Dreaming Lands to grasp, yet it is the single most important motivator in Duine life.

Every simulation requires the designation of one participant as the simulation master (SM) responsible for the creation and administration of the planned experiment. The SM imparts all details relevant to the simulation’s setting to his fellow participants and determines the effects of all participants’ actions upon the simulation as dictated by the rules and probabilities within this document and, when necessary, his own best judgment. The SM must also be able to produce, as quickly as possible, any necessary information required to properly describe any people, animals, or phenomena the participants may encounter. Preparation is an important part of being a successful SM.

Characters controlled by the participants are called participant characters (PCs). Characters controlled by the SM are called non-participant characters (NPCs) because the SM is not considered a character. NPCs include all characters the PCs meet during the simulation, including any characters that may join their party. NPCs are not defined as completely as the PCs – the SM rarely needs to know in advance the complete character history of each shopkeeper, for instance.

SMs are encouraged to create situations that will challenge the minds of their participants. Forcing participants to adopt mortal thought processes to solve complex problems will provide a more complete understanding of Duine tactics and priorities. Participants should do their best not to break character while completing such tasks.

It would be most beneficial to the Courts of Twilight to see the same characters utilized in the same setting for several sessions as they attempt to achieve a difficult goal. These campaigns often revolve around a story of some sort in which the participants fill the lead roles. The SM plays the role of the storyteller, much like an author writing a novel wherein the characters have minds of their own and the story often deviates in useful and interesting ways.

Please note that this document is bound to the Courts of Twilight through a magic most sensitive and destructive. Use this simulation against the will of the Courts at your own risk.

- Secrecio, Most Knowledgeable Riddari of Admi

The Torn God News

2009-02-27T10:17:00.006-06:00

Well,

We've had a very minor set back, lately. Shannon Potratz, who was our artist on our planned webcomic, The Torn God, has decided to step down. Instead of working on the webcomic, Shannon is going to be working on developing new artwork for our first full length novel (which will also act as a prelude to The Torn God), The Unmade Man by Daniel Tyler Gooden. While we're sad to see Shannon go (because he was doing some really spectacular pages for The Torn God), I think that this new arrangement is going to work out beautifully.

That being said, Alan Gallo, the artist on our print comic, The Rise and Fall of Pileaus, has graciously stepped up to take the reins of The Torn God. Below are some of his first set of layouts:

Also, it looks like I will also be taking over the colors for the webcomic. We've got a bit more work to do before we can relaunch, but, I think we're in good shape!

And we have another new artist involved in the project - Scott Godlewski. Below you can see his version of people from Norrington. Great stuff!

I'll keep you posted as we work more out! Relaunch is looming closer!

"Debt" by Scott Colby

2009-02-16T16:16:00.001-06:00

Here's a snippet from my first short story, "Debt:"

“You’re going to run, aren’t you?” Grastow asked. “It’s great sport when your kind tries to get away.”

At that point, Darin decided his best chance would be to catch his opponent off guard. He stood silent and still, pretending to brood as he waited for Old Man Grastow to continue his verbal assault. Just as Grastow opened his mouth to speak, Darin lunged forward, intending to tackle the old man and beat him down. But all he caught was air and a mouthful of grass, and a sharp blow across his lower back from Grastow’s cane.

“Runners usually try that first,” Grastow said casually as Darin spat out a wad of soil and pulled himself back to his feet. “Apparently I’m quicker than I look.”

And with that, Darin was off. It wasn’t far to the dense northern Easlinder forest that surrounded his property, and he’d soon torn through the first layer of brush and into the woods proper. He knew the area well, and he was willing to try to confuse Grastow in the dark forest and try to take him from behind.

When not plying his trade as a musician, Darin made a living as a trapper, and thus he was a more than competent woodsman. After his initial haste had put enough distance between himself and his enemy, he slowed to a more deliberate pace. He slipped in between the hulking trees as silently and stealthily as any predator on the hunt, leaving little evidence of his passing. He’d given Grastow an initial trail to follow; the Old Man would be well within Darin’s domain when that trail suddenly ended.

He swung to the east and down a sharp gulley, his heart beating in his throat as he tried to keep himself calm. The dry riverbed made travel easy, and the walls of the gulley would hide him from any onlookers. He quickly reached the game path that would take him back into the forest almost directly behind the point he’d started hiding his trail – and with any luck, directly behind Old Man Grastow. He paused at the start of the trail, knowing better than to rush things. He wanted to give his enemy ample time to reach the ambush point

“He’s going to get you, you know,” hissed a low, squeaky voice from behind Darin. “He’s a clever one.”

Darin whirled, wishing he’d thought to grab a weapon of some sort. A scrawny man half Darin’s height sat on the opposite bank, smiling down at him benevolently. The fine silver buttons of his expensive-looking vest and pants glittered in Diun’s waning light. Bright green eyes stared back at Darin from under a fine black hat trimmed with a long green feather.

“What do you know of our business?” Darin whispered sharply.

“Of the specifics? Nothing,” the little man replied confidently. “But I’ve seen this plot play out before. The master gives his student a few tidbits of the power that could be his. Just a taste, mind you. The student takes advantage of what he’s been taught, building his own personal empire, however large or small. Then the master comes for his due...and the student refuses to pay up. The inevitable conflict ensues...”

“Enough!” Darin snarled in annoyance. The little man had hit too close to home. “What exactly do you want?”

“In such situations, I’ve yet to see said student get the better of said master. And because of that, certain economic opportunities present themselves...”

“No more deals!” Darin said a little louder than he’d intended. He turned and stalked up the game trail.

“As if you’ll have a choice,” the little man called after him. “Huffnaggle will be waiting for you! Just call my name!”

BT: Realms, The Unmade Man, Toaaho

2009-02-05T10:11:00.006-06:00

Howdy folks!

Well, we are still making progress on the development of Baeg Tobar and things are finally starting to come together. I have just seen the first incarnation of the Baeg Tobar: Realms MMO turn-based game. It's nearly playable and I'll annouce here when it is ready to go into a Beta test, at which point I'll definitely be needing help testing it out!

I've also been in talks with my good friend and fellow artist Kennon James about doing new artwork for the Unmade Man, by Daniel Tyler Gooden, the first novel we are going to make available at launch of the new site. Below you can see some of his artwork for one of the characters in the story, Toaaho.
More to come soon! Thanks!

Jer

First three weeks of short stories scheduled!

2009-01-27T18:38:00.003-06:00

We want you to find something new on Baeg Tobar every day of the week. Some days it'll be a new half-page of The Torn God; some days it'll be an encyclopedia entry about a person, place, or thing relevant to the world; some days it'll be a new chapter from a novel deeply exploring the ins and outs of the world; and on others it'll be a new short story that relates to something happening in The Torn God.

We'll be releasing one short story every week. Our first three are written, edited, and ready to go:

"No Matter How You Hide Her..." by Alana Joli Abbott describes the local reaction to the appearance of The Torn God's and The Unmade Man's Boruin, Wraethe, and Pile just before the historic confrontation that sets them on their journey.

"Shadevengen" by Mark Adams introduces readers to the Black Queen and an ancient order of Royal Shadows dedicated to the protection of the Imperial family.

"The Black Queen" by Scott Colby (yours truly) expands upon the story of the Black Queen and offers a glimpse at politics in Deos following the death of Emperor Pileaus.

I've got to say, I'm damn proud to be three weeks ahead of the game already. Holes in the early schedule are quickly becoming few and far between. If all works out as planned, we'll soon be an entire two months ahead on short fiction!

Many thanks to all of our hardworking authors. 2009 should be a great year for Baeg Tobar!

Character Art...

2009-01-21T13:13:00.003-06:00

Howdy folks!

Well, considering that the last post was an excerpt from one of our short stories, I thought it would be appropriate to post up some artwork next. Below is Boruin, the main character from The Unmade Man by Daniel Tyler Gooden and also the main character in the upcoming webcomic, The Torn God. Artwork by Shannon Potratz.

Short Story Sneak Peek

2009-01-12T20:09:00.003-06:00

Here's an excerpt from "Gaius's Tale" by Jeff Limke, a story about what happens to those who cross Emperor Pileaus:

Gaius gripped his stone axe, keeping his knees bent and his back to the wall of the hut as he waited for the command to pounce. He could see his father in the shadows a building away, armed identically. Gaius tried to slow his breathing, but it moved in and out like a winded sprinter’s. His heart pounded so hard he felt it in his head.

Having wiped his clammy palms on his jerkin, Gaius re-gripped his axe. It was deathly sharp but brittle. The weight would compensate if the blade blunted. He had never swung it at a person, but he had killed enough wild deer and feral dogs to know what it could do.

Footsteps skritched the pebbled ground louder with each moment. Gaius’ knuckles whitened on the axe handle. He held his breath. They would not take him easily.

He heard the voice clearly. “Hold!”

Gaius pivoted on one foot. Arms extended, he let the weight of the axe carry his momentum. The blade bit. Blood spattered. Before him, a wide-mouthed soldier screamed.

The soldier fell, still screaming. Armor plates had protected his biceps, but only leather covered his elbow. Gaius pulled the axe free. Half of its edge glistened with blood, the other half clean but chipped. The soldier clutched his spurting wound as two others stepped over him, spears forward.

“I’ve killed him,” Gaius whispered. Ringing filled his ears. Colors faded. He felt weak. The world began to spin. He dropped to his knees and puked. Finally looking up, he found himself face-to-face with a spear point.

“No, he’s just a boy!” His father thrust himself at the spear holder, knocking him aside. “This is his first time with a weapon.” More villagers moved in around Gaius.
Soldiers ran forward, barking orders at the villagers to move or die.

No one moved. Eyes locked on eyes, weapons remained at ready.

Beyond the soldiers, a sharp command cut the air. “Aside.”

Gaius felt soft arms surround him and he recognized the scent of his mother. “He only wanted to protect us.” Gaius relaxed a bit, feeling safer. The world became more vibrant. His mother gripped him tighter. “Please, leave him to us,” she pleaded.

The soldiers parted to make way for a commander in polished bronze armor. “Take Vitus to the physician. Bring this one.”

Soldiers tore Gaius’s mother away. She said nothing, but her eyes glistened.

Heavy hands jerked Gaius upward. Two soldiers grabbed his wrists and lifted so that he straightened his arms. When they let go, he swung his arms forward, but his elbows stopped hard. A spear pole across his lower back prevented them from moving further. Next they bound his wrists in front. A shove and he marched forward. In the distance he saw a litter carried by eight slaves.

Another shove stopped Gaius. The litter rested perhaps twenty paces away. “Give the emperor your respect,” said the soldier to his left.

Gaius shook his head. Had he heard correctly? The emperor? Here? He buckled as a scabbard slapped the back of his knees.

“That means down, fool.”

Gaius lifted his head, but a cuff to the back of it brought a white flash of pain. He kept his gaze on the ground.

“And this boy, he did what again?” The voice, deep and full, commanded attention.
Gaius fought the temptation to look. His head swam in enough pain already.

"He injured Vitus when we arrived. The physician doesn't know if he can save the arm," said the soldier to Gaius's right.

No one spoke. I’ve attacked a member of the Imperial Guard, Gaius thought. The punishment had to be — no.

“Strap him to the post for the night, but do not flog him yet. I would like to think on this before passing judgment.” The deep voice paused. “In the meantime, bring me any heretics who survived the whipping.”

Gaius pressed his eyes together and grimaced as the guards lifted the spear. When he opened them, the litter had passed.

The R&FoP Previews...

2008-12-23T15:32:00.007-06:00

Hey folks,

Good news! Alan Gallo has completed the pencils for the first full issue of the Rise and Fall of Pileaus! Now, it's just a matter of my finding the time to start coloring it and see about how best to approach publishing. We've got a few ideas, so I hope to be able to start talking dates in the not so distant future. 2009 should be a very interesting year for Baeg Tobar.

Anyway, here are the pencils for the first two pages. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Losa Concept Art

2008-12-10T16:59:00.004-06:00

Hey folks,

With the short snippet of fiction Scott put up featuring Losa, I thought you might all want to actually put a face to the name. Here is some concept art that Shannon Potratz did of the character Losa...

Thanks!

Jer

A Bit of Fiction

2008-12-09T20:28:00.004-06:00

Here's a quick snippet of "Shadivengen" by Mark Adams, a peek into the life of Losa, Emperor Pileaus' eldest daughter and top general, and her top bodyguard, the Shadivengen named Calib:

Her vest has been refastened – the only indication that she has moved at all. Calib leads Ayet and his officers, all of who insisted on attending the general, up the hill. Hearing them approach, Losa turns to face the small group of men. She alone notices Calib shift out of view.

“I see you have brought your council,” she says, fixing Ayet with her crystal blue eyes. “Good, this will be educational for all.”

The general nods his head to Losa. “Why have I been summoned?”

Catching everyone by surprise, Losa steps forward and strikes the general across the face. “You will address me as ‘my lady,’” she snaps.

Ayet takes a step back, the force of the slap far less than the sting of shock and humiliation. “As you wish, my lady.” He straightens, rising to his full height. “Now, my lady, for what have I been summoned?”

She looks at him for a long moment, then turns away, again looking out on the valley below. She motions for Ayet to step beside her. A hint of nervousness settles in his eyes as he joins her.

“I have to wonder,” she begins, motioning towards the valley, “just why there is so much activity here.”

Calib, now closer to his charge, sees the look of poorly feigned puzzlement on Ayet’s face. “There was a battle here, my lady. What else would you expect?”

Her eyes flash dangerously. “Do not be dense, Ayet. Why is there activity here?” She again indicates the valley below with her hand.

Ayet clears his throat, his anxiety clearly building. “This area represented a credible threat, Losa.” He points to the far end of the valley, perhaps a mile distant. “The Oran reserves were camped there, awaiting orders to join the front. This was a flanking maneuver.”

She rounds on him, her voice trembling, an iceberg of anger. “Three thousand men, Ayet. Three thousand of my men died here, for no reason!”

“No reason?” he barks back at her. “We destroyed more than twice that many Orani! How can that be ‘no reason?’”

“I gave you a direct order to bring those men to support the shield wall on the north flank! These reserves were nothing but green boys. No threat! Oran would have never brought them up, as supporting the north flank would have routed the Oran army. You wasted these men!”

“You are but a girl, Losa, not even twenty. I have three decades of–” Losa moves so quickly that only Calib sees. In a single motion, she pivots, draws her sword, and strikes Ayet. The blade catches his throat, and his words die in a choking gurgle. Her sword is sheathed before the other men even realize Ayet has been attacked. Ayet’s hands fly to his neck in a vain attempt to check the flow. He stares at Losa blankly as the crimson cravat grows on his white tunic. Slowly, he drops to his knees, then pitches forward onto his face.

“Ayet!” shouts Rogen, his shock quickly turning to fury. He pulls his dagger, his eyes burning. “Die, witch!” He springs forward with reckless abandon.
With speed honed by a lifetime of training for no other purpose, Calib draws his matched set of single-edged swords from across his back and steps between the crazed officer and his ward. Suddenly aware of the Shadivengen, Rogen tries to correct his approach, but too late. One of Calib’s blades hits high, the man’s momentum driving it through his chest. The other hangs at the ready. Watching impassively, Calib holds him upright as the life leaves his eyes. With a tug, he frees his weapon, letting the man collapse over Ayet.

“No one,” he says, watching the others, “touches the Mardente.”

“Enough, Calib,” comes Losa’s voice, surprisingly soft. “It is over. They understand.”

“Aye, my lady,” agrees Higalen. His throat is tight. “We are yours.”

Mark has done a great job creating the Shadivengen mythos and working it into our plans for the world. Can't wait to see even more!

Airship Concept Art

2008-12-04T10:18:00.003-06:00

Hey folks,

Thought I'd show you a bit of concept art for some of the Baeg Tobar airship designs by Jeff Wamester. These are mostly done - though we are working on a few more details. We wanted to go with a little less traditional type of airship (though there are some more traditional types of airships as well).

First is the underside - heavily armored as you can see -
And here is a 3/4 view -Hope you all enjoy these!

Jer

News and Shuen Taishu Concept Art

2008-11-26T11:18:00.012-06:00

Hello folks!

I thought you all might like to have a bit of news and maybe another bit of artwork for the project. We're slowly moving forward on our various projects and I hope to relaunch Baeg Tobar sometime in the first quarter of 2009. Granted, nothing is set in stone, but if things continue to proceed as they currently are, we should be in good shape. As of right now, we have several projects in production, those being -

1. The Torn God, our primary webcomic which was written by Daniel Gooden and Scott Colby and illustrated by Shannon Potratz. This will be free online for everybody to read.

2. The Rise and Fall of Pileaus, a comic that we're planning to distribute through print, also written by Daniel Gooden and Scott Colby and penciled by Alan Gallo. I'm looking at coloring this book myself.

3. A revised, edited, and newly illustrated version of The Unmade Man, written by Daniel Gooden.

4. Numerous short stories written by a variety of contributors that will tie into the main webcomic, The Torn God, and expand upon the world as we move through the main storyline.

5. Baeg Tobar Realms, a massively multiplayer online game. The game will be a war game that takes place in the Shoro and will pit players against each other to become the dominant country in the region. We'll have several versions of the game, one which will be free for all to play and also a subscriber only version.

6. The Baeg Tobar RPG, which will also be a print product that we hope to release sometime late in 2009 and which will be fully illustrated by me.

Those are just the main projects we are working on right now and I can say with some confidence that things are moving forward. Slowly, but surely.

In the meantime, here is some concept artwork by Caleb Prochnow of the Shuen Taishu. These are the massive creatures that the ocean going cities of the Shuen reside upon. As you can see, Caleb did a rather amazing job on this creature - it is unlike anything I have ever seen and I absolutely love this design. It'll be a lot of fun to see it in action!
Keep checking back for updates! I'll let you all know more as we make more progress!

I hope you all have a great holiday! Thanks!

Jeremy

Check this out!

2008-11-16T19:55:00.004-06:00

Here's a full color preview from The Torn God, featuring Boruin using a bit of magic to fight off a group of soldiers. Appearing with him in the bottom panel are his companion Wraethe (the woman) and Pile (though all you can see is his hat).

I don't know how Shannon (Potratz) gets those colors, but they look awesome!

What is Baeg Tobar?

2008-11-09T21:19:00.002-06:00

We realized the other day that we’ve been giving you all these great previews without actually telling you what Baeg Tobar is. Let’s fix that.

Baeg Tobar is the tale of two very different parallel realms learning to coexist. The mortal Duine of the earth-like Dying Lands and the ethereal Fae of the constantly shifting Dreaming Lands are brought into conflict by the unexpected return of a demigod once thought dead.

Sound complicated? Don’t worry. It’s beings trying to make the most of their short life spans against immortal forces content to follow their own whims. It’s a civilization attempting to move forward technologically against a society satisfied to work only with what nature offers. It’s a hodgepodge of diverse nations and groups trying to put aside their differences to face a unified front. It’s military know-how against abstract forces of nature.

The differences between the two realms are many, and the events of The Torn God will only exacerbate them. Can the rift between the Dying and the Dreaming ever be repaired?

More to come!

Since Jeremy brought up Rise and Fall of Pileaus...

2008-11-03T22:35:00.002-06:00

...here's a sneak peek at the introduction to the first issue, Mutiny:

Brailee’s Steps. A chain of cold, rocky islands unwinding from the northeast corner of Pileaus. Only the stoutest forms of life can gain so much as a foothold in this barren wasteland of ice and stone.

The aggressive and territorial shuen only make matters worse, delivering holy retribution upon any who dare befoul the sanctity of their waters. Sailing is punishable by death – physically entering their seas without permission, by much worse. The shuen always know when someone has befouled their territory, but the source of this knowledge remains a mystery.

Such a land breeds a hearty, pragmatic people to whom hopes and dreams are naught but a distraction from the hardships of the day. Yet it also produces a particular strain of rebellion, a group of individuals willing to risk their lives to escape the doldrums of merely surviving. In the Steps, these people take to the high seas as pirates, daring to anger the shuen as a vital artery of commerce between the distant, sparse settlements.

The man destined to become Pileaus, emperor to millions and god to many more, sprouted from such humble beginnings. A stowaway upon a privateer ship at the tender age of fourteen when he abandoned his dull childhood in search of his legendary father, young Roderick Smallmuss quickly proved an able hand to the captain that spared his life.

The shuen, however, care little about ability and even less about destiny...

Watching all the art come together for Mutiny has been one of the most exciting parts of this whole project. Alan's doing a heck of a job putting together what's going to be a heck of a book.

We're still looking for short story writers. Send a writing sample to scott@baegtobar.com, and please don't be daunted by the spam filter's request that you prove you're a person.

More to come soon!

Happy Halloween!

2008-10-31T11:39:00.003-05:00

Hey folks!

Happy Halloween! In honor of the holiday, I thought I might post up a creature concept by Alan Gallo. This is one of the Shuen creatures that will show up in our print comic, the Rise and Fall of Pileaus.
Enjoy the holiday and have a happy Halloween!