J.F. Posthumus

J.F. Posthumus

About Me

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Virginia, United States
A computer tech and artist that thrives on writing fantasy to escape the harshness of reality.
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Saturday, January 30, 2010

Zazzle Store

Yes, I finally opened a Zazzle store.  There will be an eBay store, eventually, but I figured what the heck?  Might as well broaden my reach, right?  My stuff is also over at CafePress and I'll post the links to there later, for those who prefer CafePress. 

Anywhos, here's the link for those interested.  Docelfar Designs. I also posted a store panel below so you can see what all is in the store. Of course, it's all my artwork. And nothing uber creepy either, so no fear there. Well... the cauldron IS at CafePress, but it lacks the scary skulls....

If anyone's interested in posting a link on their site, just let me know and I'll send you the link. :)

Oh, yeah, and I have strep throat. Got meds for it Thursday and am feeling better now. amazing how fast antibiotics can help one feel better fast... and SLEEP. geez, they make me sleepy...


create & buy custom products at Zazzle
Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Teaser Tuesday - Something different...

To keep from boring everyone with "Banshee's Daughter", I thought I'd post a snippet from the fantasy muder mystery that's currently on a back burner. It might get brought out later, but for now, it's simmering in the back.

Anwyhos, the backstory is thus: Shyndra is an assassin from Fellhaven, Deltheya (Xantos's world aka Baradwys.) She learned at Xantos's guild and is younger than Xandra. She's just completed an assassination contract and was enjoying herself with Alyn (a good friend of Xandra, tolerated by Xantos, and whom she has a smidge of a crush on) until her cousins show up. Though only two are blood-related, all four of the "Brethren" are considered family to her. The Brethren have just informed her that her beloved uncle was murdered.

Here's what happens next:

The walk to her room seemed to take far too long. She felt giddy, but a black sadness kept sweeping over any excitement she felt about taking Alyn to her bed.

When she reached her door, and was unlatching it, Shyndra did not know why she had asked Alyn to her room. It would be the height of hypocrisy to try and dismiss him, now.

Chewing her lower lip, a fault her mother had constantly scolded her for; she drew a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door after Alyn. Gods, the man was handsome and charming. She wanted to forget the misery that kept trying to claim her yet she knew this could only be a short term affair.

Unclasping her outer robes, her lips curved into a seductive smile. Even a night of pleasure was better than days of unhappiness. More than anything, though, she wanted Alyn for at least one night. Tossing the robe to the side, she removed the leather armor she wore beneath, leaving only her simple white gown.

Crossing to Alyn, she pressed up against him, his arms enveloping her. Despite his strength, he was so very gentle. A surprising, yet very pleasing discovery. Nuzzling his neck, she felt tears welling up in her eyes and her lips trembled.

Gods, she was not going to cry! She wasn't... so, why were there tears leaking from her eyes? And... why was her chest tightening to the point where she thought she couldn't breathe?

Swallowing, Shyndra blinked back her tears and forced air into her lungs, willing her grief to leave her. She was not going to cry, not when she wanted some pleasure in her otherwise dismal life.

Brushing a kiss along Alyn's neck, she tightened her arms around him. She was stronger than her grief. She had to be. There were no true paladins in polished armor who would rescue her from the life she had made for herself. So, gods be damned, she was not going to cry and she was going to enjoy her night with Alyn.

That is, if she could stop her eyes from filling with water before trickling down her cheeks.

Alyn lifted her head up, and immediately she could tell, even with her vision blurring, that he knew she was trying not to cry. He immediately bent and kissed the water from her eyes.

"Alyn," she whispered, her voice cracking even with the single word. She choked back a sob, even as her eyes burned. The tears broke free and she melted against him, leaning her head against his shoulder as she wept. It wasn't what she had planned, or wanted, but it seemed her feelings were going to win this battle.

He shushed her and held her against him. The sobs were becoming worse, but she did not seem able to cease them. Alyn did not even attempt to pull away. He just continued to hold her tightly against him.

Shyndra leaned into his warmth, letting him comfort her. A small smile kept trying to form on her trembling lips. Closing her eyes, she snuggled closer, taking solace in the fact he was everything the rumors proclaimed, and more. Her lips twitched again and she pressed a trembling kiss to his shoulder. His lips pressed against the crown of her head and a smile finally broke through her grief.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Teaser Tuesday - Late Night Attack

We're about 10k-15k from being finished with Banshee's Daughter!!!  YAY!!!!!  Hopefully we can get it finished in the next week or so.... hopefully sooner...  

Anyway... I figured I'd jump ahead some and post what happens a little later... which is also the first attack on Iliana in her own realm.  And, like any true hot-tempered red-head, she goes after the one she thinks sent it, rather ticked off.


            Peeking into the kitchen, Iliana slid around the corner, keeping her back near the wall.  Not seeing anything humanoid, she glanced to the tops of the cabinets and the fridge.  Nothing huddled in the shadows ready to leap down to attack her.  Or at least, nothing she could see.  Iliana glanced downwards at Layla who slunk into the kitchen and stared into the living room, her dark eyes glowing an eerie red. 
            Alighty then, whatever it was, was playing in the living room.  Iliana wondered briefly if it hated the light and contemplated turning on the living room lights with a spellword, but decided against it.  No need to inform the nosy neighbors about her uninvited nighttime menace. 
            Drawing a deep breath, Iliana reached out with her magic, sending it trailing through the wall she was leaning against and adding a barrier of magic that soon pulsed throughout the walls, ceiling and floors.  With luck, that would keep the shots from the gun from waking not only the neighboring tenants, but also those in the houses near her.
            The last thing she needed was to explain why she had fired her handgun in her apartment.  If there was a body also, things could get a bit dicier.  Especially if it were another playmate sent by Darkflower or, worse yet, one sent by Saldone. 
            Shoving the thoughts to the side, distractions were the last thing she needed, Iliana crept towards the doorway to the living room.  Glancing around the corner, she checked the top of her entertainment center, but saw nothing.  Gliding to the other side, she checked the other cabinet nestled in the corner opposite her entertainment center.  Nope, nothing.
            So where in the hells was the damned thing hiding?  It wasn’t like she had a lot of shelves; in fact, she had none in the living room.  Stepping into the room, she heard a slight rustle and she looked up at the ceiling above the window. 
In the corner, perched with a foot on each side of the wall that converged together, was an ugly little creature with a triangular face with an oblong nose, wrinkled skin, a thin lipped, curving mouth and two tall pointed ears.  A tuft of hair more like a small patch of burned weeds sat between his ears on his fat, otherwise bald, head.
            A pair or large, yellow eyes watched her as she stared back at the otherworldly creature.  Short and plump like a mutant frog; it had proportionate arms and legs that were as pudgy as his body.  The face, also proportionate with his body, kept her from snickering overly much at the odd being.  Had the head been bigger, she would’ve thought it resembled a child’s bobble-head monster toy.  However, when it smiled, all amusement vanished as Iliana got a good look at the long, sharp teeth that reminded her of a piranha.  Except a piranha didn’t have six-inch long incisors or talons that put gaping holes in her walls.
            Taking aim, Iliana fired at the nasty fey.  One shot landed in its leg as it leapt across the room from her and landed in the opposite corner.  Taking aim again, she fired once more.  The creature howled in pain and leapt towards her, blood streaming from a shoulder wound.
            Stepping back, Iliana swung the gun up and fired, blasting another hole in the creature’s chest.  It dropped to the floor, mouth open in a death scream.  A scuttling sound followed by a snarl and a snap of bone had her swirling around, gun aimed towards the noise.
            However, as a true marksman, Iliana didn’t fire until she had her quarry identified.  A good thing, too, since Layla was contentedly washing her paws beside what looked to be a small rat, except the ‘rat’ had wrinkled reddish skin beneath bristles, was about two feet long with a ratty tail, and vampire-like teeth protruding from its squashed pug-like face.  A pool of blood poured around its throat.    
              Not taking a chance, Iliana called Layla over to her and promptly shot the bogle in its head and heart.
            “Right, so that was a fun time, wasn’t it?”  Iliana asked, finally lowering her gun.  She waited, listening, but didn’t hear anything else.  Crossing to the door, she put her ear against it and listened.  Nothing.  She peeked through the eyehole and saw only the darkness of the hallway.  “Well, at least we didn’t wake the neighbors!”
            Layla purred as she wound herself through Iliana’s legs.  Iliana turned once more to the bodies and gestured.  The duo vanished from sight. 
            “Time to find out just why in the hells this pair was sent,” Iliana said, scooping Layla up and stalking towards her bedroom.  “Care to come with me to visit someone, Layla?”
            Layla coughed and rubbed her head against Iliana’s cheek before wrapping herself around Iliana’s neck. 
            Speaking a phrase in Gaelic, the mirror flared to life and Iliana cocked the gun and stepped through the mirror. 
Holding the weapon directly in front of her, aimed perfectly at where the heart would be, she stated evenly, “Let’s see if the bullets you gave me work as well on you as it did those… things in my apartment.”  She stalked forward, the gun never wavering.  “Pray tell why in the hells you sent those two after me?”
She ignored the odd fact that the oversized t-shirt she wore for a nightgown didn’t change to something else because she was too pleased with the fact her gun hadn’t shifted either.  The last thing she needed was to lose her only useful weapon against the ancient warlord sitting behind his desk starting at her with a calm, almost bored, expression.
            “Your presence and overplayed threats indicate you would prefer me to claim I sent them to test you.”  Xantos spoke mildly, as if he were dismissing a pesky servant.  “But you will find no satisfaction in that regard.  I did not send anything nor anyone after you.”
            Not pausing until she stood five feet from him, she kept the gun leveled with his chest.  “How do I know I can believe you?  Your reputation isn’t exactly one that screams honesty, honor, and believability.”
“What is my motivation for sending anything after you that you could defeat?”  Xantos countered, and he sounded bored to her.  Bored! As if women stormed into his office demanding he answer for grief in their lives on a regular basis!
Monday, January 11, 2010

Something A Little Different...

So, I thought I'd do something a little different. I was playing around with something I did and ended up thinking the picture needed a story. Will it turn into a novel? Who knows? But I had fun writing it! I'm thinking that I should make it available when my ebay stuff goes live towards the end of the month.  (I'll post the link when it's available...).  And no, I'm going to add the story to the picture if I decide to offer it.  :)

Anywhos, let me know if you think the story matches the picture. 


There had to be a way out of the mess I’d gotten myself into. The only question was which option was worse. Being banished from not only the island, but this world, also? Being chased by Royal Assassins of the

Fey kind who could follow a particular offensive fly for miles just to swat it? Or releasing the legions of undead and giving them to the crazy queen to rule? Decisions, decisions. It didn’t help any that Mom was a druid dedicated to the nutty queen and her spineless king to a sickening degree or that my father was already banished to another realm. The realm where demons lived, thrived, and tormented both the living and dead.

I’d been there once and I didn’t really want to go back. Sure, hot drinks and s’mores were easy to come by, but the torture, chaos, and spell of brimstone kinda outranked the coolness of smoking marshmallows over a fire; especially when the fire was actually a burning corpse. Fortunately, Daddy dearest was higher up on the food chain there and could visit often. I loved him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to live in his world, especially since I didn’t get my kicks out of torture. Well, maybe I would have if he’d had let me torture a few people I hated and were current “guests”, but apparently that was against the rules, damn it.

The sky was growing darker and waves near the shore were growing choppy. As always, the barely-there breeze that could almost ruffle dandelion fluff was biting. Considering I wasn’t wearing much more than my usual ‘sorceress’ clothes that reminded me of a few costumes I’d seen last time I’d gone to visit the mortals’ lands, it wasn’t surprising.

My birthday was nearing and I had to give the Crazy Queen of all Fey a reply to her question. Sitting on the rock that held the skeletons of an ancient tribe that had been ensconced by powerful mages millennia ago, I could feel them trying to break free of their prison.

Why couldn’t I have just remained the weird girl who breezed through her guild classes without worrying about studying? A forgotten member of this world who could paint and create delicate crafts? Oh, no, the damned Fates simply couldn’t let me go by unnoticed. Not when Mom worked for the royals, keeping their forests and orchards vagrant free, growing vibrantly, and bountiful fruit and game.

Dad, fortunately, was still an unknown. Everyone thought he came from the mortals’ realm or another dimension. No one knew he was a demon, despite the fact I could unleash the undead, summon imps and ifrets, and raise the hounds of hell. Quite literally, and they weren’t cute and cuddly pooches, either. More like canines with elongated heads, grotesque emaciated bodies with leathery skin. They always reminded me of a dried up mice Mom and I would find in crates or in the barn every so often. Even their tails were rat-like, except with barbs like a stingray.

The queen, losing followers like rats fleeing from a sinking ship and having been the target of a few so-far ill-fated assassination attempts, had learned of my paltry talents last year. Mom kept her at bay, saying to wait until I was twenty-five when my powers would be fully developed. I kept hoping someone would kill the crazy bitch, but none had succeeded and Dad didn’t dare. It would break some promise or vow he’d made. Figures. I have a father who can kick major ass and he can’t do a damned thing because of rules and regulations.

Yet I can release a legion of blood-hungry skeletons eager to slaughter without repercussions from anyone in this world, or probably even his. I was fairly certain he’d warn me if I’d spend life in eternal damnation, and not as a family member, either.

I sighed heavily, staring at the cattails and hoping maybe I’d catch my death from the cold, as the mortals often said. Not likely. The worse that would happen is it would start raining and I’d be soaked to the skin, freezing cold, and have muddy feet since I hated wearing shoes, slippers, or sandals of any kind.

Why couldn’t I just go back to the way life was before? Where no one remembered my birthday, except for family and a handful of friends?

A few drops splattered on my head and shoulders, trickling down my bodice, leaving icy snake trails wherever it went. Shoving off from the rock, I could almost hear the skeletons screaming in outrage, I trudged dispiritedly back towards my mother’s small cottage. Behind me, I could hear the howl of the wind turning over the ocean. Or was it the howl of the undead, promising to kill me the moment they were free? One could never be sure about these things.