The BattleLord would never truly understand the combination of genetics and cosmic circumstances that had thrust him through the Veil that separates the Light from the Dark Matter Universe. His biological being is subsumed by symbiotic infections, restoring his youth and vitality, repairing a lifetime of damage to his body, rendering him impervious to all but the most horrific of wounds.
Discovered by the Dough Boys, his physical makeup is further enhanced by the inclusion of shields, weapons, and data organization devices. These strange beings seek to create a tool from the only being known to be capable of crossing the barrier between the Universes.
By utilizing his unique capabilities, he lives entire lifetimes on varied worlds and places throughout the natural universe. With loving guidance from the peoples of these worlds, he acquires the moral convictions that have since guided his every action.
Driven to know the why of it all, he confronts the Maker, a being, entity, or machine that has existed since the very beginning of time. Agreeing to accept the Maker's unconditional offer of ultimate knowledge, the BattleLord becomes subjected to a total reformation. He is rebuilt, atom by atom, to form a being that is no longer truly a product of either the Light Matter or the Dark, but a unique combination of both.
Armed with the boon of immortality, The BattleLord explores new worlds to ensure the continuation of sentient life throughout the cosmos.
Lifelong curiosity has led the author to explore a variety of experiences and interests. An avid outdoorsman, he completed a formal course of study in wildlife management from Kansas State University. This resulted in a passion for understanding and protecting the ecosystem upon which all life depends.
Pursuing a career in aerospace manufacturing has honed his knowledge of technology and space exploration, while serving in management positions and volunteering in local government has provided a basis for his study of the interactions of people.
The author began writing as a way to consolidate his diverse pursuits into a cohesive picture, enhancing his stories with details that bring his worlds to life.
Jermic felt certain of his invisibility as he sought to maintain the requisite level of readiness. He ignores the continuous drips of rain that spill through the concealing limbs and twigs of the bitter plum thicket that veils his presence. His only movements come from the constant scan of his eyes as he waits for the appearance of his foe. "Soon," he thought silently. "It must come soon or I will have failed."
Unseen behind the thickly overcast sky, the ruby sun would inevitably be lost, hidden by the horizon. Fully aware of the dangers that a poorly placed shot would entail, Jermic steels his resolve to end his vigil at twilight, regardless of the success or failure of his mission.
The most insignificant flicker of motion brings his senses to full alert, adrenalin coursing through his veins. He averts his eyes, using only his peripheral vision to track the beast, as it sinuously courses its way over the lip of the draw and down the far side.
The creature's intelligence, coupled with its vicious nature and powerful size, made it a formidable enemy. Combined with the miraculous ability to recover from injury, the beast threatened the very way of life that Jermic's people sought to establish on this remote outpost of the universe.
As the demon slipped from sight, fleetingly hidden by a crease in the terrain, Jermic silently drew his weapon from within the oilskin coverings that he hopes has protected its charge of powder from the invasive moisture. Carefully positioning the rifle, he aims not where he expects the beast to reappear, but at the depression he believes it will seek out as shelter for the night.
"Yes!" he thinks in satisfaction as the predator enters the hollow and slowly spins about for three turns, seeking comfort from the natural elements. "Now if it only gives me a path to its vitals," he beseeches, knowing that failure to kill on the first attempt will likely doom his own life.
As the beast dropped into its lair, fear mingled with disappointment floods through Jermic's awareness. Its placement does not allow a clean, clear shot. "Wait," he calms his nerves.
With a small shift the creature adjusts its position slightly, bringing into sight the entrance to a single ear canal.
Without seeming to have moved, his fingers slip the last protective covering free of the priming pan, flicks back the brass cover, and spills the precious grains of fine, dry powder into its chamber. With a sure touch, he inspects the hammer's flint and gently pulls it back to click home. Jermic slits his eyes and holds his breath, hoping that this single, out of place, metallic sound will not signal the end of his life.
Slightly adjusting the aim of the long, heavy, octagonal barrel, he finally allows his index finger to curl lovingly around his weapon's trigger. Emptying his lungs of their load of stale breath, then slowly refilling them, he pauses; the moment of truth has arrived.
A gentle, almost unconscious stroke, immediately followed by a sharp click, a shower of white-hot sparks, and the butt of the longrifle crashes into the cradle of his shoulder, his vision obscured by a cloud of blue-gray smoke swirling about his head and slowly drifting towards his feet.
Jermic immediately set aside his rifle and drew forth the heavy revolver that has rested securely beneath his body, protected from the elements during his long vigil. With extreme luck, it offered a last chance of survival if his first shot had failed to kill.
Brushing the sting of sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand, Jermic strove to pierce the gloom of dusk, seeking out his adversary.
Gone! The beast no longer occupied the slight depression. No sign remained that it had ever been there. Had his rifle's inherent delay between ignition of its charge and expulsion of its bullet given the beast time to escape? Was it even now circling behind to pounce where he lay trapped in the false security of the thorn bush?