J.F. Posthumus
About Me
- J.F. Posthumus
- Virginia, United States
- A computer tech and artist that thrives on writing fantasy to escape the harshness of reality.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
No Teaser This Week...
No teaser this week, so instead, I did a New Blog Layout!!! WOOT! I discovered a nifty program called "Artisteer" that I downloaded and played around with and decided it was worth the investment. Mostly 'cause I hate plodding along in Dreamweaver and LOVE programs that let me take my art and turn it into something awesome. :-D It took a little smacking around to make it do what I want it, but it finally surrendered.
The trip to Short Pump was a lot of fun, even if it was FREEZING. I got a nice (VERY NICE) pair of Giani Bini shoes that were on sale, a corset-type blouse from Hot Topic, toys for the tiny terrors, and a shirt for our eldest. Mark also got a t-shirt (Rob Zombie, lol), a cd (Rob Zombie to go with the shirt), and a cool bag (one of those shoulder thingys similar to a tote bag). Maggiano's, as always, was AMAZING with service and food (for what it's worth, I do not have a love for beef and Italian is no exception, as Mark discovered). The little IMP also decided that chicken fingers and the beef dish wasn't to her liking, but Mommy's Rigatoni D WAS. She also decided that Mommy's raspberry lemonade was MUCH better than her drink, too. No need to guess what SHE will be getting next time we go! LOL! And, of course, I can't forget the fact I got to see a friend who joined us for lunch. :)
All in all, it was a great weekend and I hated it having to end. Ah, well. There will always be a next time.
The trip to Short Pump was a lot of fun, even if it was FREEZING. I got a nice (VERY NICE) pair of Giani Bini shoes that were on sale, a corset-type blouse from Hot Topic, toys for the tiny terrors, and a shirt for our eldest. Mark also got a t-shirt (Rob Zombie, lol), a cd (Rob Zombie to go with the shirt), and a cool bag (one of those shoulder thingys similar to a tote bag). Maggiano's, as always, was AMAZING with service and food (for what it's worth, I do not have a love for beef and Italian is no exception, as Mark discovered). The little IMP also decided that chicken fingers and the beef dish wasn't to her liking, but Mommy's Rigatoni D WAS. She also decided that Mommy's raspberry lemonade was MUCH better than her drink, too. No need to guess what SHE will be getting next time we go! LOL! And, of course, I can't forget the fact I got to see a friend who joined us for lunch. :)
All in all, it was a great weekend and I hated it having to end. Ah, well. There will always be a next time.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Teaser Tuesday... Banshee's Daughter, again.
Ok, so the kids are happy, Mark's got a toothache, and I've FINALLY gotten over strep. What a fun time it's been. On the good side, bills have paid, fun stuff has been bought (mostly required stuff), and a trip to Short Pump has been planned for this weekend. YAY!!!! Build-a-bear for the two tiny terrors is a must. (Our little IMP is going to get a sheep... maybe she'll stop wanting the puppet from the library if we can con her into getting one...) And, of course, Maggiano's, cause it's THE BEST Italian restaurant. And I'm gonna go searching for a strappy, sexy pair of silver stilettos... time to break away from the plain old black. :)
Anywhos, hopefully we'll remember the camera (hopefully). If not, we've got our phones. :)
And, on to the teaser!!!
p.s. the novel is done at just under 85,000 words! YAY!!!!
*******************
“If I enjoyed the boredom inherent to mixing up my concoctions, I’d have a wealthy life with little excitement. However, I don’t; which is why I’m a hired retriever of inanimate objects”
Something about that statement made Xantos chuckle.
“Yes... such as we cannot confine ourselves to a single outlet of one’s personality, can we?”
“My mother always chastised me for growing bored too quickly; she always claimed I’d find trouble. I suppose she, and you, are right.” She chuckled and gestured towards the flowers around them. “Most of these are indigenous to your world, aren’t they? Do they have any specific use other than beauty?”
“Most within my private garden are for beauty’s sake.” Xantos agreed. “But as you are aware; many of these flowers and bulbs have a use other than looking beautiful or swooning a heart.”
Iliana slid her fingers away from the petals, startled. “This is your private garden?” That certainly changed things a bit. A very big bit. “What uses do they have? Or is it a trade secret?”
“Look about, and tell me what you would use any of the specimens for,” he challenged. “Surely, you have already noticed a few that you would use.”
“It doesn’t work quite that way,” Iliana replied, blushing. “The lavender and red clovers could be easily used to make a mixture for ‘ensuring’ a prosperous, passionate marriage. I could concoct an unlimited amount of mixtures from the herbs and flowers of my world. Those from your world? I could only follow my instinct and hope something comes out of it other than a pretty flame.”
“How do you know that you didn’t produce something more than a ‘pretty flame?’ You often mix ingredients blindly, ignorant of possible outcomes?”
She plucked the blossom of the yellow rose, the strange hyacinth cactus combo, and the leaves of another unusual bush laden with deep, blood red blooms with black centers that reminded her of tiny daggers.
“I follow my instincts. Most of my combinations come from allowing my sixth sense, if you will, to take control and tell me how much of each to use.” As Iliana spoke, she placed the blossoms and leaves in a pile in her hand and breathed upon them.
The ingredients began to twist into a funnel shape; growing in speed and intensity until a tiny tornado traveled upon the palm of her hand. The tornado twisted faster and faster, until a sextuplet of tiny black points, like black arrowheads or the tips of daggers, flew from the tornado. Wherever these projectiles hit, frost spread rapidly in a radius of six feet. The tornado blew out on her hand.
“That certainly wasn’t expected,” Iliana commented, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Perhaps I should not create any other mixtures here.”
She looked at Xantos, who was looking at the frost damaged bushes and flowers with a mixture of anger and shock. Finally, he glanced at her and steadied his expression. He seemed to gather himself before stretching his hands out before him. Magic surged in the very air around her, forcing her eyes shut. When she could open them again, all signs of the damage her little experiment had caused were erased. Xantos was smiling at her.
“Why don’t you explain to me how you did that?” He requested pleasantly.
“I didn’t know what the combination would produce, otherwise I wouldn’t have attempted it,” Iliana quickly stated. She considered the flowers and what she had felt from them. “The rose created the base, the kindling for the tornado. The blossom from the hyacinth-like flower gave it the power and also is the cause for the frost. It was the third that created the projectiles and kept the frost contained until it touched a surface.”
Iliana shrugged helplessly, clasping her hands tightly together. She didn’t trust the pleasantness of his voice; it was far too similar to what he used with the captain. Her mother always said, the first reaction was the true reaction, especially when dealing with ethereal and magical beings. It was often the same with words; what was first spoken was often what the person meant, not what they wanted you to hear.
“I’ll refrain from any other mixtures, I swear,” Iliana promised.
“I would simply prefer such experiments were conducted in a less fragile environment.” Xantos commented. He walked away from her, towards where the projectiles had done their now deleted damage. He inhaled sharply, and smiled back at her. His hands spread wide in a gesture of offering; but she noticed his fingers fluttered slightly as they grew apart.
“It would bring me pleasure to provide a private room to conduct such experiments... that would appeal to you, yes?”
She felt a tingling of unexpected desire; accompanied by an upsurge in some flower’s scent. She had to swallow and gather herself before answering: Her first impulse was to tell him she wanted to please him, and a private room would be perfect!
“I’ve no doubt it would,” she replied uneasily, looking towards the flowers, trying to figure out which one was the culprit. “Perhaps we can discuss that possibility at a later time. After I’m no longer a target for assassins, would be most ideal.”
Xantos tilted his head and pursed his lips.
Damned if he doesn’t look like the late Michael Landon playing the Anti-Christ when he does that. She observed. She was startled when he spoke again in the pleasant tone.
“As you like. Shall we continue the tour?”
As long as you don’t try to seduce me again, she thought as she crossed to him. Aloud, she agreed, “Certainly.”
Anywhos, hopefully we'll remember the camera (hopefully). If not, we've got our phones. :)
And, on to the teaser!!!
p.s. the novel is done at just under 85,000 words! YAY!!!!
*******************
“If I enjoyed the boredom inherent to mixing up my concoctions, I’d have a wealthy life with little excitement. However, I don’t; which is why I’m a hired retriever of inanimate objects”
Something about that statement made Xantos chuckle.
“Yes... such as we cannot confine ourselves to a single outlet of one’s personality, can we?”
“My mother always chastised me for growing bored too quickly; she always claimed I’d find trouble. I suppose she, and you, are right.” She chuckled and gestured towards the flowers around them. “Most of these are indigenous to your world, aren’t they? Do they have any specific use other than beauty?”
“Most within my private garden are for beauty’s sake.” Xantos agreed. “But as you are aware; many of these flowers and bulbs have a use other than looking beautiful or swooning a heart.”
Iliana slid her fingers away from the petals, startled. “This is your private garden?” That certainly changed things a bit. A very big bit. “What uses do they have? Or is it a trade secret?”
“Look about, and tell me what you would use any of the specimens for,” he challenged. “Surely, you have already noticed a few that you would use.”
“It doesn’t work quite that way,” Iliana replied, blushing. “The lavender and red clovers could be easily used to make a mixture for ‘ensuring’ a prosperous, passionate marriage. I could concoct an unlimited amount of mixtures from the herbs and flowers of my world. Those from your world? I could only follow my instinct and hope something comes out of it other than a pretty flame.”
“How do you know that you didn’t produce something more than a ‘pretty flame?’ You often mix ingredients blindly, ignorant of possible outcomes?”
She plucked the blossom of the yellow rose, the strange hyacinth cactus combo, and the leaves of another unusual bush laden with deep, blood red blooms with black centers that reminded her of tiny daggers.
“I follow my instincts. Most of my combinations come from allowing my sixth sense, if you will, to take control and tell me how much of each to use.” As Iliana spoke, she placed the blossoms and leaves in a pile in her hand and breathed upon them.
The ingredients began to twist into a funnel shape; growing in speed and intensity until a tiny tornado traveled upon the palm of her hand. The tornado twisted faster and faster, until a sextuplet of tiny black points, like black arrowheads or the tips of daggers, flew from the tornado. Wherever these projectiles hit, frost spread rapidly in a radius of six feet. The tornado blew out on her hand.
“That certainly wasn’t expected,” Iliana commented, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Perhaps I should not create any other mixtures here.”
She looked at Xantos, who was looking at the frost damaged bushes and flowers with a mixture of anger and shock. Finally, he glanced at her and steadied his expression. He seemed to gather himself before stretching his hands out before him. Magic surged in the very air around her, forcing her eyes shut. When she could open them again, all signs of the damage her little experiment had caused were erased. Xantos was smiling at her.
“Why don’t you explain to me how you did that?” He requested pleasantly.
“I didn’t know what the combination would produce, otherwise I wouldn’t have attempted it,” Iliana quickly stated. She considered the flowers and what she had felt from them. “The rose created the base, the kindling for the tornado. The blossom from the hyacinth-like flower gave it the power and also is the cause for the frost. It was the third that created the projectiles and kept the frost contained until it touched a surface.”
Iliana shrugged helplessly, clasping her hands tightly together. She didn’t trust the pleasantness of his voice; it was far too similar to what he used with the captain. Her mother always said, the first reaction was the true reaction, especially when dealing with ethereal and magical beings. It was often the same with words; what was first spoken was often what the person meant, not what they wanted you to hear.
“I’ll refrain from any other mixtures, I swear,” Iliana promised.
“I would simply prefer such experiments were conducted in a less fragile environment.” Xantos commented. He walked away from her, towards where the projectiles had done their now deleted damage. He inhaled sharply, and smiled back at her. His hands spread wide in a gesture of offering; but she noticed his fingers fluttered slightly as they grew apart.
“It would bring me pleasure to provide a private room to conduct such experiments... that would appeal to you, yes?”
She felt a tingling of unexpected desire; accompanied by an upsurge in some flower’s scent. She had to swallow and gather herself before answering: Her first impulse was to tell him she wanted to please him, and a private room would be perfect!
“I’ve no doubt it would,” she replied uneasily, looking towards the flowers, trying to figure out which one was the culprit. “Perhaps we can discuss that possibility at a later time. After I’m no longer a target for assassins, would be most ideal.”
Xantos tilted his head and pursed his lips.
Damned if he doesn’t look like the late Michael Landon playing the Anti-Christ when he does that. She observed. She was startled when he spoke again in the pleasant tone.
“As you like. Shall we continue the tour?”
As long as you don’t try to seduce me again, she thought as she crossed to him. Aloud, she agreed, “Certainly.”
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Teaser Tuesday - Xantos shows his bad side...
Another Teaser Tuesday snippet. A bit longer than usual, but well worth it, I think. Up till now, Xantos has shown his "nice" side... sooooo... here's the true side of Xantos. :) ENJOY!!!!
oh, and it's not quite as gory or graphic as some we've written.... ;)
backstory for those just dropping in: Iliana is a retriever of all-things non-living. Magical and not, she finds it and returns it to whoever has the highest bid. After being hired to rescue Dante from a crazy docelfar witch, she becomes the target of assassins. She immediatly suspects Xantos, someone who's famous for pulling such acts. So, visiting him in nothing but her extra-large nightshirt, she discovers it's not him. So, after a little magic and having Xantos show up unannounced, they head off towards Xantos's gardens. This is what happens next.
********************************
Her musings kept herself from worrying about everything that had happened prior and what was sure to come when she returned to her home. Or, in the very least, her home world.
Xantos kept a slow pace, allowing her to be overwhelmed by the beauty of the architecture, paintings, and statues that lined the hallways and corridors. All were beautiful and breathtaking.
As they turned a corner, she noticed another being with snow-white skin and hair dressed like a warrior moving towards them. She couldn’t suppress a shiver as evil rolled off him like the air from an opened freezer. Perhaps it was the glee mingled in it that caused her to glance sharply at Xantos, imminently thankful for his presence and the robe.
Even were it not for the fact the newcomer’s eyes were the same glowing orange as Xantos and had pointed ears, Iliana would have known he was a docelfar. Xantos, however, didn’t seem to share the other elf’s delight. Instead, his expression darkened and she felt the same sense of evil wavering around her host as she did from the warrior.
Somehow, she got the idea that being here wasn’t such a bright idea, anymore.
A slightly smaller male, dressed in similar garb, stepped in from behind the first. Both men bowed to Xantos.
“Captain, Sergeant... report.” Xantos acknowledged and commanded.
“My eminence,” the shorter male replied. “The village stands no more. No one will question the wisdom of giving you the proper tithing from profits... especially those who have reaped a life from your generosity.”
Iliana took a step back, her eyes widening in shock. She shivered again, pulling the cloak tighter about her. Dearest gods. Xantos ordered such an attack? Alright, she’d happily admit he was an evil son-of-a-bitch. All for money. Why was she not surprised? Even if she was disgusted.
“Yes... it is so very disheartening when I choose a village to grow something, and even though I only require thirty percent of all profits, and the rest go to the people... they still feel they have the right to expect the rest,” said Xantos.
The captain smiled wolfishly. “None shall be foolish enough to attempt such blasphemy... not after tales of our deeds have spread.”
The whole village, though? She wondered. Did that also include the children and innocents? The women? Wasn’t there an unwritten law that said women and children were to be left alive?
Iliana slid back another step. There had to be a way to sneak out of here. Her room, she decided, had plenty of mirrors. She’d go to Alex; he wouldn’t turn her away.
“Perhaps you plan to spend the remainder of your days going to every tavern within a three day ride, spreading the tales yourself?” Xantos said with a pleasant tone. “You did not, after all, leave any survivors. This is contrary to my orders... and to my doctrine.”
The dark, bitter tang of anger wafted to Iliana from Xantos and she wondered if the pair could sense it as well as she could. She doubted it, since she could just barely notice it. Still, Iliana took another couple tiny steps away from the trio, she didn’t really want to be in the middle of what was to come. She’d rather be another dimension away.
“Your doctrine of not slaying anyone who does not attack.” the sergeant offered. “Children, women, any males who do not offer resistance while we weed out the guilty.”
“Precisely.”
“Well... the men became...” the captain began.
“The men followed your orders; which were, as stated, contrary to mine. I was observing you,” declared Xantos. His voice had not waived from the calm, pleasant tone.
Iliana glanced at Xantos. Okay, so he wasn’t a totally heartless bastard. Xantos had a code of honor... sort of.
“Still; this way of thinking that you present intrigues me, captain.” Xantos continued. “After all... I have never killed indiscriminately... only acting upon an urge to kill... no regard for what usefulness a being may represent; save the satisfaction of ending a nuisance or imbecile.”
“My...my eminence...” the captain said, and he looked decidedly sweaty to Iliana.
“I must try this... to discover if I have been foolishly following a useless code. That would be to my benefit; would you not agree?” Xantos said, looking from the captain to the sergeant.
Despite Iliana’s overly curious nature, she slid back yet another few steps. Maybe if Xantos was too preoccupied with the pair, she could sneak away?
“Of course... of course!” The captain agreed eagerly, obviously trying to please Xantos. Xantos made a minute nod towards the sergeant. The sergeant moved swiftly to block Iliana from making further progress.
Damn it. Why did she always end up involved these stupid power games? She doubted Xantos would use her, but did he have to insist on keeping her there to witness his next move?
“I am so glad we agree!” Xantos nearly cried. His left hand flew up, fingers splayed and palm towards the ceiling.
The captain cramped up in pain, and started to scream. Green fire flew from every orafice for two horrific heartbeats, and then the captain was consumed in an explosion of green light.
“My apologies for impeding you from exiting this ugly scene,” Xantos said as he brushed a fine soot from the front of his lavish robes. “But there are many dangers to be found along this hallway, and I did not want you to fall prey to them while trying to avoid the role of witness.”
Despite the sergeant, Iliana stumbled backwards, her eyes wide as fear and shock swept across her features. Okay, if Xantos thought she’d sleep after this, he was insane. She kept her back to the wall, with Xantos in full sight. The only weapon she had at hand was her magic, and she suddenly doubted she’d be powerful enough to counter anything this docelfar did.
“I... I...” she stuttered before drawing a deep breath, and immediately regretting it due to the pungent odor of burned flesh. “Perhaps the beauty of your garden will supplant the ugliness of this scene? If you still wish to take me there. If not, I completely understand.”
Not bloody well likely, she added silently, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Xantos that.
“I was thinking that the garden’s beauty would help suppress the memory of this.” Xantos said with a patronly smile. He looked to the sergeant. “Captain, you will gather your crew and inform them of the change of command. See the lord of arms for your rank insignia. I shall talk with you and yours after the afternoon meal.”
oh, and it's not quite as gory or graphic as some we've written.... ;)
backstory for those just dropping in: Iliana is a retriever of all-things non-living. Magical and not, she finds it and returns it to whoever has the highest bid. After being hired to rescue Dante from a crazy docelfar witch, she becomes the target of assassins. She immediatly suspects Xantos, someone who's famous for pulling such acts. So, visiting him in nothing but her extra-large nightshirt, she discovers it's not him. So, after a little magic and having Xantos show up unannounced, they head off towards Xantos's gardens. This is what happens next.
********************************
Her musings kept herself from worrying about everything that had happened prior and what was sure to come when she returned to her home. Or, in the very least, her home world.
Xantos kept a slow pace, allowing her to be overwhelmed by the beauty of the architecture, paintings, and statues that lined the hallways and corridors. All were beautiful and breathtaking.
As they turned a corner, she noticed another being with snow-white skin and hair dressed like a warrior moving towards them. She couldn’t suppress a shiver as evil rolled off him like the air from an opened freezer. Perhaps it was the glee mingled in it that caused her to glance sharply at Xantos, imminently thankful for his presence and the robe.
Even were it not for the fact the newcomer’s eyes were the same glowing orange as Xantos and had pointed ears, Iliana would have known he was a docelfar. Xantos, however, didn’t seem to share the other elf’s delight. Instead, his expression darkened and she felt the same sense of evil wavering around her host as she did from the warrior.
Somehow, she got the idea that being here wasn’t such a bright idea, anymore.
A slightly smaller male, dressed in similar garb, stepped in from behind the first. Both men bowed to Xantos.
“Captain, Sergeant... report.” Xantos acknowledged and commanded.
“My eminence,” the shorter male replied. “The village stands no more. No one will question the wisdom of giving you the proper tithing from profits... especially those who have reaped a life from your generosity.”
Iliana took a step back, her eyes widening in shock. She shivered again, pulling the cloak tighter about her. Dearest gods. Xantos ordered such an attack? Alright, she’d happily admit he was an evil son-of-a-bitch. All for money. Why was she not surprised? Even if she was disgusted.
“Yes... it is so very disheartening when I choose a village to grow something, and even though I only require thirty percent of all profits, and the rest go to the people... they still feel they have the right to expect the rest,” said Xantos.
The captain smiled wolfishly. “None shall be foolish enough to attempt such blasphemy... not after tales of our deeds have spread.”
The whole village, though? She wondered. Did that also include the children and innocents? The women? Wasn’t there an unwritten law that said women and children were to be left alive?
Iliana slid back another step. There had to be a way to sneak out of here. Her room, she decided, had plenty of mirrors. She’d go to Alex; he wouldn’t turn her away.
“Perhaps you plan to spend the remainder of your days going to every tavern within a three day ride, spreading the tales yourself?” Xantos said with a pleasant tone. “You did not, after all, leave any survivors. This is contrary to my orders... and to my doctrine.”
The dark, bitter tang of anger wafted to Iliana from Xantos and she wondered if the pair could sense it as well as she could. She doubted it, since she could just barely notice it. Still, Iliana took another couple tiny steps away from the trio, she didn’t really want to be in the middle of what was to come. She’d rather be another dimension away.
“Your doctrine of not slaying anyone who does not attack.” the sergeant offered. “Children, women, any males who do not offer resistance while we weed out the guilty.”
“Precisely.”
“Well... the men became...” the captain began.
“The men followed your orders; which were, as stated, contrary to mine. I was observing you,” declared Xantos. His voice had not waived from the calm, pleasant tone.
Iliana glanced at Xantos. Okay, so he wasn’t a totally heartless bastard. Xantos had a code of honor... sort of.
“Still; this way of thinking that you present intrigues me, captain.” Xantos continued. “After all... I have never killed indiscriminately... only acting upon an urge to kill... no regard for what usefulness a being may represent; save the satisfaction of ending a nuisance or imbecile.”
“My...my eminence...” the captain said, and he looked decidedly sweaty to Iliana.
“I must try this... to discover if I have been foolishly following a useless code. That would be to my benefit; would you not agree?” Xantos said, looking from the captain to the sergeant.
Despite Iliana’s overly curious nature, she slid back yet another few steps. Maybe if Xantos was too preoccupied with the pair, she could sneak away?
“Of course... of course!” The captain agreed eagerly, obviously trying to please Xantos. Xantos made a minute nod towards the sergeant. The sergeant moved swiftly to block Iliana from making further progress.
Damn it. Why did she always end up involved these stupid power games? She doubted Xantos would use her, but did he have to insist on keeping her there to witness his next move?
“I am so glad we agree!” Xantos nearly cried. His left hand flew up, fingers splayed and palm towards the ceiling.
The captain cramped up in pain, and started to scream. Green fire flew from every orafice for two horrific heartbeats, and then the captain was consumed in an explosion of green light.
“My apologies for impeding you from exiting this ugly scene,” Xantos said as he brushed a fine soot from the front of his lavish robes. “But there are many dangers to be found along this hallway, and I did not want you to fall prey to them while trying to avoid the role of witness.”
Despite the sergeant, Iliana stumbled backwards, her eyes wide as fear and shock swept across her features. Okay, if Xantos thought she’d sleep after this, he was insane. She kept her back to the wall, with Xantos in full sight. The only weapon she had at hand was her magic, and she suddenly doubted she’d be powerful enough to counter anything this docelfar did.
“I... I...” she stuttered before drawing a deep breath, and immediately regretting it due to the pungent odor of burned flesh. “Perhaps the beauty of your garden will supplant the ugliness of this scene? If you still wish to take me there. If not, I completely understand.”
Not bloody well likely, she added silently, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Xantos that.
“I was thinking that the garden’s beauty would help suppress the memory of this.” Xantos said with a patronly smile. He looked to the sergeant. “Captain, you will gather your crew and inform them of the change of command. See the lord of arms for your rank insignia. I shall talk with you and yours after the afternoon meal.”
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
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.
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.
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.
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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...
Anywhos, let me know if you think the story matches the picture.
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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.
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