LeeRoy

Ko Luhn the Cleanser

I've published a book!

jlbrightman.itch.io/ko-luhn-the-cleanser

FISTFUL OF STEEL (Mr. Rakkan Vs. First-Degree Donny)

April, 2016. Time of investigation, 7:45am.

Vegas Strip, well outside his jurisdiction, he'd been called on as consult. Called on as an inter-agency cooperation, due to his specialized skills. There was basically nothing to go on, and his reputation preceded him. Excepting the cold case in the alley, his backlog was practically empty. This time there was a survivor of the incident, with what Cain would consider the most bizarre story he's ever heard.

The two sat down across from each other in the precinct, the woman was visually disfigured by the events. Taking his hat off, he slid a pair of reading glasses onto his nose and held the dossier open with one hand, licking his thumb to flip to the first page. "You've taken to referring to yourself as 'Rah,' Correct?" His voice was nasally, on account of his long and sharp nose being so prominent. His iris peeked up over the bridge of his glasses, his eyelids hanging low, barely concealing the fact that he was deeply analyzing her.

The woman, turned black by some chemical. Made her bald, messed with her teeth, she was some kind of gruesome, her voice hissed from the disfigured lips as she spoke. "Y-yes. It's easier to say, after my lips got... Got." She trailed off, tears visibly welling in her eyes. The irises were red and the welling caused them to look like they were dribbling blood.

Immediately shifting the tone, he relaxed in his seat and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, and flicked the bottom to express one of them from the top. "You mind if I smoke? I'm going to anyway, I'm just asking for sake of fairness."

The woman's expression turned to confusion as she squinted at him, before responding with a confused and slightly insulted; "No I don't." With one disarming question he'd pulled her from tears, and he sparked the match off the table and lit up.

Dragging on the cigarette he spoke as smoke poured from his mouth in little curling wisps that gave him the appearance of a man with a thick mustache for a brief moment. "So I need as many details as you can give me. Anything that was said, anything that you saw. Anything at all helps, miss." His thumb flicked through the dossier to a blank page and he placed a pen's tip to the paper.

She looked concerned but more focused, confusion as she tried to recollect the full picture, before Cain spoke again. "How about I ask some details and you recount them as best you can, alright?" The woman nodded and he cleared his throat before taking another drag from the cigarette.

"So we have the report up to the moment that you were grabbed. Did the attacker seem to grab you randomly, or was it targeted?" He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at her as he spoke.

"It was random, I was just in the crowd."

Scratching sounds filled the interrogation room as he wrote that down."I see. Did you get a good look at your attacker's face?"

She shook her head. "Only the lower half, he wore a wide brimmed black hat that shadowed his face. The lights on the strip made it hard to see him, especially considering the chaos. I can tell you he's a white male, pale skin, rough complexion, and above average height."

Scribbling this down, he didn't even notice the ash from his cigarette fall onto the back of his hand until he finished writing. "Did you hear him speak at all? Did he say anything that could be of use?"

Again she shook her head no. "Whatever he said I could barely understand, his accent was so thick that it was almost like he was pretending. As if he were putting it on, rather than it being natural."

"Acting an accent? Strange indeed. Did he have anything distinctive that could identify him? Outfit, tattoo, jewelry, anything at all?" He absentmindedly puffed the cigarette as the woman thought, and then his eyes sparked with embers as her eyes showed some degree of clarity.

"He had some kind of James Bond watch! Some kind of electrified wire shot out of it! He also lost his coat and he was covered in sheathes, holsters, belts of grenades! A grenade, that's what left that stranger a corpse and... And me looking like... This." She trailed off, touching her face with her left hand as Cain wrote down that note. This had helped quite a lot in building a profile, unfortunately the CCTV footage and all road cams in the area had suspiciously gone haywire right around the time of the killing. So this case was too cold.

"Well, miss Rah. I have no further questions. If there's anything else you can think of in the near future to help further, that would be ideal. You're free to go, ma'am. Officers will escort you to your car, you have a good day." He slipped his hat onto his head and finished his cigarette, ashing it against the aluminum tabletop and leaving the crumpled stump there.

The dossier he held had very little in the way of patterns to connect to his previous document. However it had built a profile of an incredibly wealthy killer, someone who'd had sufficient funds to custom make a weaponized watch, as well as obtain multiple grenades, knives and guns. Either this killer had a lot of money up front, or he had funds from the local mob.

With the way the camera footage had mysteriously gone missing?

It had to be connected to the mob, and he'd find out how.

Pistol Grip Pump (Gweyr Vs. Donny)

March, 2016. Time of investigation; 6pm.

The boys in blue were already calling this case cold, it hadn't even been 48 hours. Cold Case Cain wasn't called in, he'd heard it on the 2-way and decided to show up anyway. With the chemical stink in the air it was clear there'd been a professional mob hit clean-up. Couldn't clean everything up, though. Cain's eyes saw what others didn't, the other keepers of the law saw it as a sixth sense, but he was just perceptive of things they were ignorant to. There were always tells, always hints of what's gone down.

He ducked down, lifting his right arm up to snag the police line with his elbow and push it up, walking underneath the plastic tape. He sniffed the air and it smelled like ammonia, they'd power-washed it with an ammonia solution to break up the blood. Smart.

He pulled out his handheld camera and took a picture.

Immediately he noticed a bullet hole in the spray-painted brick wall, he walked over and slipped his rubber gloves on. Sticking his finger into the hole, he dug out the bullet. The spray-paint had concealed it, but the angle was weird. He stepped back and drew a mental line. It was .44, the power should have been sufficient to blow clean through the wall. He also would have had to fire it at a downward angle from about midsection height, perhaps deflected? The power dropping would make sense if it hit something and deflected downwards, but what a strange bullet hole. He pulled out a bag of baby powder and dusted it on the bullet just in case, but he knew there'd be no fingerprints. It was a formality to explore every option. Afterwards he'd give it to the forensic boys, see if they could find what gun it was fired from. The deflection into relatively soft brick would bear fruit, hopefully.

He stood up and went to go dust his knees off, but he paused and looked at the bullet again. There was something stuck to it, like it got caught as the bullet fired. It looked like fibers of some kind. Lifting the bullet to his face he looked close at it and squinted. That was something he'd note. He slipped the bullet into a plastic bag he pulled from his coat and pulled a marker out, taking the cap off with his teeth. He wrote on the side; Analyze fibers for composition.

Pocketing the baggie, he turned his attention to the cracked concrete. Cleaned but not repaired, there was a clear blast radius in the center of the alleyway. Low yield explosive of some sort, but the blast radius was interrupted. Probably whatever had deflected the bullet had also blocked the blast of whatever exploded here. Curious, about five meters of webbing in the concrete spanned the entire alleyway and yet there was still more to look at. He knelt down and looked from the point of the explosion to the entry of the alleyway there was a clear mark of what appeared to be electrical scoring. Touching the burned ground, he felt the flakes of glass that had formed from dust and sand that was instantly liquefied by what appeared to be a gigantic electrical discharge. Just with his eyes alone he could span the distance to be nearly half the alleyway's length. "What on Earth happened here?"

His handheld camera clicked.

At the end of the discharge there was another mark of what appeared to be a particularly low yield explosive, and then...

The shutter of his camera clicked.

An impact crater? This puzzle's pieces weren't adding up, he walked over to the point that looked like someone had taken an anvil and dropped it from the roof of the alley overhead. It was the shape of a foot, but it was insane to presume that a human being had done this. It had to be the anvil theory, was he on the case of a Looney Tune? Incredulously he looked up, scanning the walls and his eyes widened.

His handheld camera clicked again.

More electrical scoring leading up the wall to somewhere above his head. "Hell on Earth. This makes no sense."

Again his camera clicked.

Turning to look at the opposite wall he saw several other bullet holes, lower caliber. These had been picked clean, no one could have missed the pattern of fire across the wall itself. Then he turned his attention to his feet, where the ground had clearly been cleaned. There must have been blood here, possibly the perpetrator's own. There was one last pattern of electrical scoring and then the evidence ran dry. Clearly some kind of scuffle, possibly some kind of electrical weapon. There was very clearly some incident of midair electrical discharge as well, and something very forceful had hit the ground. Possibly three or more, but one had died. He sighed and concluded his investigation, patting his knees clean.

He pulled out a notebook and began to write.

A woman, approximate age twenty five to thirty. Slim build, small frame. Maybe she'd had a bodyguard of some sort, someone heavily armored. Could explain the deflected bullets. What kind of connections did she have to have a bodyguard that had some sort of electrical weapon that could fire lightning bolts? Real shame, she had pretty eyes. Two bullets, one in the chest, one in the head.

He paused as he wrote, pulling out the coroner's report and laying it on top of his notebook. The angle of the shots indicated they had been upwards, and there was clear bruising of an impact with the ground from a height.

He began writing again.

Perhaps she'd been the one on the roof, maybe she dropped something heavy in an attempt to stop the killer from attacking whoever this heavily armored, electricity wielding weirdo was. The killer must have double tapped her and she must have fallen from the roof, it was the only explanation that made any sense. If there were bloodstains I could do more with the info given, otherwise I can only assume there's three parties involved and at least one is still alive for certain, and the other party is someone with access to advanced technology and heavy armor.

Closing the notepad, he pulled his collar up to his ears and went back to his car. There was nothing more about this scene that could be figured out, it was time to go home and make an official report.

@Doc Doctor

Mahz's Dev Journal

I had genuinely thought that you had died in the Amazon Rainforest or some shit, Mahz.

Arena Chat Thread

Good lord it has been quiet. Lots has changed in the time I've been absent.

Wonder if anyone who was back when I was active is still around. Anyone heard word from folks like ImportantNobody or GrievousKhan?

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Victory: Team 3Dark via Bolts refusal to accept judgement.

At the beginning of this fight it was an understood that 10 people would be able to discuss among themselves like rational adults. However, as of a month or so in it became transparently clear that the Bolts were uncooperative, and no matter how idiotic the position they would unilaterally be unmoving. So we each brought on a judge that was agreed upon by the other team.

It took months for the first judgement to complete, and things began to move again. However, before another turn rotation could complete several new problems emerged.

1- The User with the name of "Regicide," also known as Obito, was revealed to be some kind of sexual predator. The other Bolts distanced themselves from him. While this is not their fault, it did affect the event as well as the already very thin trust and respect between the teams.

2- The judges unilaterally agreed there were many instances of tier breaking. So they made efforts to correct this.

3- Two more members of their team disappeared. One entirely leaving the channel where judgements were taking place, the other going radio silent. It is suspected by all members of 3Dark that the Bolts were intentionally dragging their feet because the next member of their team to post in rotation is MIA.

4- When the final judgement was cast down to continue the fight, the representative of the Bolts refused to accept it and demanded to call in more judges. Despite the fact that it was their idea to choose judges, and to have "Personal" judges. When the judge that was "Theirs" judged against them they began throwing a tantrum.

With all of this in mind, it cannot be seen in any other light that the Bolts have any intent to continue this fight in an honest manner, and cannot be trusted as people or as roleplayers.

Thus; Team 3Dark takes the victory, and will begin a 5 Man Free-for-All in the thread.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Continuing westward away from the river, Mosi's nose tracked the smoke of cooking until he was fully outwards from being downwind. A considerable distance of dozens of meters away, there was some disturbance of wind between the other four of his allies and the prey they hunted as a pack. It was far too far from him to concern himself with it, they would manage their own games, and he would kill the others one after the other. The wind, however, was changed so he could only use his spatial awareness to continue navigating in relation to the assumed position.

If only Mosi could hear the thoughts of those he hunted. It would take an absurd abstract killing for him to gain that ability, and so it was truly unfortunate that he could not mock Senko for believing her sight protected. Certainly, her sight was protected from sensory overload. However, Mosi was not capable of overloading senses, instead he was capable of something much stranger.

As the strange awareness of the woman, Senko, extended into his region. Mosi bore witness to it, seeing it as a slithering film of mucous that crept across the landscape. Infiltrating that which could be, and granting her the strange sight necessary to detect them all. It was a very solid decision, observation of one's foes is certainly a valuable asset on the battlefield. With the expansion of the observational field of energy, the woman had exposed herself to Mosi.

He stood erect, stepping in match with the approaching energy, avoiding it as only he could. He danced westward, moving in a crescent to evade the groping, grasping, clawing extension of Senko's self for as long as was possible. By the time he was touched by the Chi sense, he was almost fully southwards of the central structure. He was just slightly off the southwards road, and could look down the road through the brush of the forest.

Crossing the road in two leaping strides, he continued along the edge of the road directly up towards the central structure. As far as he knew, there was no one along this path, the indicators all pointed towards his four allies engaging with the other targets. However, the goal of the wayfaring hunter was to circle around and find weaknesses in the enemy's positions. One such weakness became apparent as he came closer to the structure.

Mosi was low, one hand pressed against the ground as he made long crawling strides. From the brush he spotted the concealed armor clad being known as Yuske. He was on the second floor of the structure, Yuske was the only one around. Both parties, it seemed, had a single loner which had opted for the furthest position from their groups. The difference in personality and efficacy showed in where and how they did so.

The chi radiance did in fact continue up towards Yuske, as Mosi's eyes traced the line of it. There was only one logical course of action to follow, Mosi turned his spear towards the radiation of chi, and his eyes narrowed into slits. There, he saw the concepts, the fundamental makeup of the radiance that permitted the adversaries to see him and his allies. So too did he see a layer of protection, a strange thing. Conceptual protection, a shield between him and the chi that helped connect and empower his adversaries. It was novel, to be sure, little divinities playing at God. They thought they had power. Mosi smiled, his apish teeth peering through peeled back lips of glee.

Mosi raised his spear overhead and plunged the leaf shaped blade into the concept of the Ryuusei Chant. Like some wicked blade plunging into the dreams of children, cleaving the goodness from them and leaving them in a nightmare, Mosi raised his spear again and plunged it back down into the Ryuusei Chant. The first layer of protection, the chant that was meant to guard against attack, was itself under attack by Mosi. If there were a being which was representative of, or solely responsible for, the Ryuusei chant it would be as if they were being stabbed by an unseen assailant.

Worse still, they could do little but retract their sense of him or have the protection stripped away. It was not as if the concept was capable of defending itself from being killed. As he raised his spear again for the killing stroke, it would be up to the woman to withdraw it.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

A small boat arrives traveling from the east, coming to a stop at the western edge of the riverbank. It runs into the silt and slides to a slow creeping halt, and its sole occupant steps out. He was a large man, wide in the shoulders, standing few inches taller than the average man. His body was rippling with naked primeval force, and his strength and dexterity was clearly visible on his body. When his foot made contact with the river bank, his toes sank into it as he made no sound. Even his breath was hushed by breathing long and slow through his large nostrils.

The Killing King, Mosi Musesma, was needed for his unique talents. He had been summoned by a strange glowing tablet whose words could be slid up and down its smooth black glassy surface. The words meant very little to him, he did not care about the why, or the who. He was a prophet of death, and when death called, he answered. It was meant to be that is all that matters.

The two allies who had already arrived, were mechanical men. They were positioned further ahead, and he was by the river outlet presently. He reached into the boat, pulling his five spears out, he looped them into the leather thong that was at the small of his back. Keeping one in his hand, which his fingers squeezed gently. The feel of the wood grain against his palm was pleasant, these were freshly made spears. They felt young and new, they had not tasted blood yet.

He stepped away from the boat, and moved towards the brush, his body bent, his knees pulled him low to the ground. The deep bronze of his skin becoming of one tone with the natural tones of the forest as he slid into the tall foliage. The scent of cooking came from the Northwest, brushing his nostrils as he sniffed the wind. He could smell the individual ingredients, the chef was not to his standard. This was an unfair assessment, as he was once a king, but it was an honest one.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

I would like to point out that the actual team name is Team Dark Darker but Darkly.

@Lith

Dark Darker Butt Darkly*

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

`Name: Mosi Musesma, The Killing King, The Prophet of the Killing Intent
`Age: Time has become confusing and meaningless in immortality.
`Gender: Man.
`Race: Human, Sahara
`Character Description:
Height- 6’5”
Weight- 380lbs
Reach- 75”
Eye Color- Green
Hair Color- Black
Skin Color- Golden Brown

`Physical Description: A masculine male of Indo-Aryan stock, a sharp hawkish face with a long and tall narrow nose. His cheekbones are high and his brow is strong. He is completely lacking in eyebrows. His face is lacking any sign of facial hair. The hair atop his head is long and flowing with a supernatural lightness. Every single inch of him except his head is completely hairless and smooth, with an almost oily sleekness.

He is muscular but not veiny, his body has a natural grace to its physicality. Everything seems as though it were perfectly sculpted and the muscles and sinew were painted on, rather than evolved or grown. Like he was hand-crafted to be the most exceptional human being. The earlobes on his ears are long and elastic, in the classical depiction of wise monks of East Asian mythology. They touch his shoulders

His hands and feet are large and wide, his limbs sleek and long. His torso and neck are broad and leonine. Everything about him screams predator, even his hawkish green eyes have an unnaturally predatory forward look to them. His teeth and jaw are more sharp and apish than manlike, as if he and his kin had ever evolved away from defending themselves with their fangs. Though this comes with an unnatural curvature of the chin.

He’s uncanny in a beautiful and haunting way, and he has black tattoos surrounding his eyes and running down to his lips.

`Personality Description: He is a prophetic figure, a religious zealot, the sole drive that fills his character is the desire to enlighten all of creation to the truth of the Killing Intent.

He was once a noble emperor, a ruler of a vast desert empire that got lost to time. His nobility and canny upbringing still hold their embers in him, he carries himself as a nobleman. His footsteps are those of a ruler turned savage prophet of the dark and wonderful liberating truth of all things.

`Abilities, Powers, Skills:
Peak Human Physiology: As a default, if there is anything that a human being can do, he too can do it. There is nothing that another man can do that he cannot, and he has the ability to combine these traits together.

The incredible speed of an Olympic sprinter combined with the exceptional strike force of a boxer and the mass of a lightweight sumo wrestler. While the metrics are measured by normal men, the combination of traits that mere athletes can attain elevates them to superhuman levels.

The Master Martial: All Martial Arts are known to him, but he favors simple spear play. Efficient and effective, but when he so chooses he can unleash exceptional technique, armed and unarmed.

The Five Facts: When he was blessed with the knowledge of the Killing Intent, he was granted five absolute facts. These facts are incredible blessings that let him stand as an equal combatant with demigods and deities. These do not make him greater than his foe, for they will always be naturally in their body’s abilities. But it makes him sufficient to fight them.

“I can see it.” - The Truth of sight allows him to see even when it should be impossible for a man to see it. In the pitch dark, in the blinding light, through thick fog, and at speeds faster than light.

“I can hear it.” - The Truth of sound, allowing him to hear and speak when it should be impossible. In the void of space, underwater, when his tongue is stricken from his mouth, and when his opponent is deaf.

“I can catch it.” - The Truth of speed, allowing him reaction time to move to avoid any attack, and allowing him movement speed to chase down any foe.

“I can take it.” - The Truth of defense, allowing him to take blows that would kill a normal man. Allowing him to trade blows as an equal tiered combatant to his opponent.

“I can kill it.” - The Truth of life, allowing him to cause harm to all things. The very intention of his actions can cause harm to anything. Material, immaterial, allegedly indestructible, intangible, divine, metaphysical, and even concepts. With his Killing Intent he can destroy and damage anything, as if it were made of solid matter.

-That Which Has Been Killed:
Age: He has eternal youth, and does not age. Time has become meaningless to him.
Fixture to the Ground: When he achieves higher than human ability, he can perform impossible aerial maneuvers. Such as running up walls and jumping in the air.
Weakness: This is how he can perform these superhuman feats.
Breaking Weapons: This is how his weapons do not shatter in his hand when he performs impossible feats.
Fear: There is no authority great enough to bow his head in terror. Not even for a moment will he hesitate in fear of his choices being wrong.

`Character Equipment:
5 5 Cubit Spears: 7.5 feet blade to butt, they’re perfectly balanced and made of flexible wood, the point is a leaf shaped bronze blade. It is razor sharp and keeps its edge uncannily. They are affected by his killing intent and are capable of withstanding the forces he exerts and the blows that he trades. They are extensions of his killing intent, and gain impossible force and killing potential when wielded by him.

A Leather Strap: It wraps from his left shoulder to his right hip, and it has five loops where his spears rest. It connects to his final piece of equipment.

A Graceful Loincloth: A symbol of savagery painted with nobility, it covers his genitals and gives him decency. Despite being impossible, no matter what angle one views him from it will always be perfectly concealing his dignity.

`Character History:
Once the king of a vast desert kingdom, a massive river once fed into a circular nation built into a desert valley oasis. It was a thriving society with seasonal rises and falls of the river water.

An asteroid impact rerouted the river, and shook the world. The river flooded his nation, then starved them of water. There he was emperor, and suddenly for all his prosperity and glory he was laid low, and all his ancestors' works were destroyed.

With his nation lost to the sands, he stripped to a loincloth and wandered into the desert to die in his shame. There, in the wasteland that was growing more and more water starved as the days went by, he saw God.

In the desert he met a man who assaulted him, beat him, laid him lower than he could have imagined, and then lifted him to his feet once more. Healing his wounds and cleaning his feet. They sat and spoke for days, his hunger and thirst gone, and he was taught the truth of the world.

There are no goods, no evils. No coincidences and no accidents. All is meant to happen, and the only supreme authority of the world is Violence.

This authority extends over ALL things, not merely other men and beasts. Physics, natural law, evolution, fate, even death. Nothing is immune to violence, one must truly understand that Violence can control the world, before truly understanding The Killing Intent.

When he learned of the Killing Intent, and the control it conferred, he killed his weakness. He killed his old age. He left the desert and now wanders the multiverse as a prophet, teaching all of creation that the truth of creation is destruction.