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MT 213 - Unworthy
🕑 Added 2024-12-17 08:51:49 +0000 UTCMT 213 - Unworthy
Hysteria flipped the chalkboard over, revealing a cartoonish image of a castle.
“A disaster like an earthquake is a classic example of an external threat with well-defined boundaries,” they said. The castle cracked down the middle, then crumbled. “In this example, ‘nature’ is the external threat. It originates from outside of the society itself. It is also easy to establish a clear beginning and end to such a disaster since it’s over once the ground stops shaking.
“People tend to rally together against external threats, and when the threat has a clear beginning and end, their response is typically well-organized.” A swarm of people crawled over the castle, rebuilding it. Once finished, the castle was larger and sturdier-looking. “In many instances, a society is stronger after conquering an external, well-defined threat.”
Hysteria flipped the board again, revealing a cartoonish depiction of a man asleep in a large four-post bed. Another man stood over them, wearing a dark mask and wielding a fine dagger. A crown popped into existence over the sleeping man, who was promptly stabbed by the intruder.
“Insofar as murder is concerned, a political assassination can either be external–such as an assassin from a foreign nation–or internal–such as with an overeager heir to the throne. Either way, it also typically has a well-defined boundary, which is the death of the targeted individual…”
Hysteria rattled on while I loosely observed the shadow on the ceiling. Rule 28 required me to look at Hysteria while they were talking, which meant I could only watch the shadow from the corner of my eye.
Several rules were exceptions to Rule 28 and allowed me to look at something other than Hysteria while the avatar spoke, but they were all conditional. Rule 29 allowed me to look judgingly at the person Hysteria was speaking to if the avatar was shaming them. Rule 30 let me look at my own feet if Hysteria was shaming me. Rule 31 told me to cross my arms and glare at anyone who’d tried to shame Hysteria while the avatar defended themself from the attempted shaming.
There were more, but in short, none of them applied. I couldn’t look directly at the shadow, which made it more difficult to be certain of what it was.
Most of the rules in the 100 range involved identifying and pointing out threats, but Hysteria’s express commands took precedence over the default commands. Since many of the rules that would require me to warn Hysteria contemplated those warnings being given verbally, I felt comfortable that my current instruction to “shut up” overrode them. Additionally, Rule 3 was “Don’t bring Hysteria problems, bring Hysteria solutions,” and I had no idea how to present a gestural ‘solution’ to whatever problem the shadow might present.
Again, I couldn’t look at the shadow, so I couldn’t even say for sure that it was a problem. I suspected that it would become a very big problem, but Rule 16 was “Stay positive,” so I decided it would work itself out.
Hysteria’s rules were more like a shitty office code of conduct than a meticulously prepared set of mind control conditionals.
Way too many of the rules gave the target discretion to make their own judgments, half of them read like junk that had been thrown in on a whim and never edited back out, and half of those sounded like they were added just to scare people.
For example:
Rule 379: When in the presence of a fairy, act as though the fairy does not exist.
Rule 380: If a fairy interacts with you in a way that produces an observable phenomenon, seek an alternative explanation for the phenomenon and loudly state that this alternative is responsible for the phenomenon. DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE THE FAIRY.
Rule 380 Hypothetical: A fairy stabs you in the kidney. Solution: You walk into your kitchen and declare that you should be more careful when using the chef’s knife you recently sharpened. Seek medical treatment. Ignore the fairy.
Rule 381: Never reference or discuss any Rule that involves fairies.
There were no rules on how to determine whether something was a fairy.
I half-suspected that Hysteria had gotten on a fairy’s bad side in the past and this group of rules was somehow added without the avatar’s knowledge. Too bad I couldn’t discuss the fairy rules, or I might have pointed out as much. Then again, an infiltrator fairy wasn’t a very positive thought and I didn’t have a nonverbal solution to the problem, so it didn’t matter.
If a fairy was just a tiny woman with magical powers, then the person in the shadow might count. They weren’t usually tiny, even though their shadow was currently quite small. They had magical powers, but it was too much of a stretch. I knew they weren’t really a woman. In fact, they were currently a short line of text on the ceiling. Hysteria paused to ponder something they’d written on the chalkboard, and I glanced up at the words.
Tears after fist.
Kind of cryptic. Rule 117 required me to report any attempts made to recruit me to work against Hysteria, but the text wasn’t asking me to do anything in particular. I assumed it was a line from a happy poem–potentially one left there by a mysterious fairy–and ignored it. The shadow faded, leaving the sport where it had been a little darker than normal.
“If the assassin is an internal agent,” said Hysteria, “it’s much more difficult for people to rally together since they are confronting an element within their own society. Such an event may be less spectacular than the earthquake, but it will result in greater emotional disruption or–at the very least–more permanent disruption. Whoever inherits the throne will be viewed with suspicion and trust in the existing power structures will erode. But, people will generally carry on about their lives once it’s over. The threat was superficially internal, but it’s so remote from a normal individual that it may as well be treated as an external threat. That is, a threat originating from a different class of person, the noble class.”
Hysteria’s words drilled into my brain, creating an uncomfortable buzzing in my thoughts. I felt like the avatar was saying more than what the words implied. The corners of the ceiling grew a shade darker.
The crown above the cartoon man disappeared, and the posts on the bed shrank away. The sleeping man was now wearing a tattered nightcap, and the invader had a large kitchen knife.
“A serial killer is an internal threat with more ambiguous boundaries,” Hysteria said as the killer stabbed the sleeping man. Their mask fell away, revealing a sadistic smile beneath. “Not only is a serial killer internal to the society, but it’s internal to the specific locality where it occurs. When someone stabs your neighbor to death, it’s much more personal than someone killing the king. It’s local and immediate. Unlike with the political assassin, you could be next!
“A rampaging killer may also have no clear resolution. So long as the killer is never caught, the event never ends. Once another person dies, the real terror starts to set in. People suspect their neighbors, change their locks, buy new weapons, and treat one another with greater hostility. The more deaths, the more their panic will continue to boil over until people start to turn on one another. Given enough time, you might see the entire region descend into anarchy as people decide that public lynchings are more useful than law enforcement.
“Even if the killer is caught, that damage persists. The survivors realize that the world is cruel and unforgiving, and that senseless violence can arise without logic or reason. They understand that the powers meant to protect them are oftentimes impotent, and you end up with a lovely generation of people who are grumpy, distrustful, and generally more likely to come into conflict with one another.”
Hysteria threw aside the pointer and kicked the chalkboard away. Both crumbled into dust and disappeared.
“If I killed you four and threw your bodies into the streets, I would be an external threat that your factions would rally against. Unless I made it a habit of murdering prominent Delvers in relatively rapid succession, your deaths would also be an event with well-defined boundaries. Kind of like how a fault line can create many earthquakes, but each quake is considered its own thing. People have short memories.” Hysteria tapped their skull. “As such, outright killing you would be ineffective at having a long-lasting destabilizing effect on any particular organization of size.”
Hysteria put their hands on their hips and looked between us, possibly gauging our understanding of the material.
“You seem to have put a lot of thought into this,” said Etja.
“Yeah,” Xim said hesitantly. “Was there a purpose in telling us all of that?”
“It was something to do while I implanted several suggestions and triggers into your minds that will persist long after you are out of my presence,” said Hysteria. “Just remember that by staying alive, you’ll be enabling me to do more harm to the world than if you’d simply died.”
A distant well of anger boiled up within me at Hysteria’s words, but it faded into the background after a few seconds. It was replaced by a feeling of appreciation for how well-organized the avatar’s thoughts on chaos were. Hysteria was much smarter than I’d given them credit for.
My contemplation of Hysteria’s wisdom was interrupted by a splashing sound coming from behind us. Rule 453 let me investigate curious noises.
I turned to see Buster emerging from the water that connected the hall outside the obelisk chamber to Nottagator’s lake. The Hyrachon had Fluffy over one shoulder, along with a dripping, darkly stained bag. In his other hand, he dragged a lump of what looked like dark, amorphous stone. It scraped along the ground.
He stopped just outside of the obelisk chamber and dropped the Yeti to the floor, who landed limply and then began coughing up bloody liquid. Buster slung the bag down, which landed with a splat, and he let the chunk of rock clunk onto the invisible inventory slots in front of him.
The man looked like he had seen better days. His armor was torn and battered, his skin charred and pierced in a dozen places, and he glared at me with a look of pure hatred.
“I am unworthy,” he croaked, then reached down to untie the sack.
He tipped it over, and a collection of mutilated body parts rained out. I could spot the remnants of a dark wing and realized it was the corpse of the Chovali.
He summoned his massive sword and swung it down onto the rock with a grunt, splitting it in two. Inside were scorched remains, barely recognizable as a humanoid carcass. I assumed it was what was left of the Giant.
Fluffy coughed and vomited up more bloody liquid, then began crawling away from Buster. They shot a terrified look back at the Hyrachon. The paladin dropped his sword in the middle of the macabre pile, then held his arms out to either side as it clanged to the ground. His eyes rose to the ceiling, and thick veins bulged in his neck.
“I. Am. UNWORTHY!” He roared.
“I enjoy seeing a good meltdown,” said Hysteria, “but you interrupted my inane rambling.”
Buster’s eyes turned red as blood began to run from them. The body parts in front of him began to glow and pulsate. The massive sword began to deform and bright silver rivulets ran off of it like melting ice.
Fluffy made it to the opposite wall and pressed her back against it. Her eyes darted around, looking for a way out that wasn’t blocked by the unhinged Hyrachon.
Hysteria snapped their fingers twice, drawing Buster’s glare.
“Hey, stop that,” said the avatar.
Buster pointed a shriveling finger at me while continuing to scowl at Hysteria.
“Their lives are mine to reap,” he said.
“Not anymore,” said Hysteria.
“We have a contract,” said Buster, his voice becoming dry and raspy. “Our service for the heads of those who slew our kin.”
“We did,” said Hysteria. “But that was before I changed my mind.”
“Why did you need these guys anyway?” asked Xim.
“The same reason people hire janitors,” said Hysteria. “I could take out the trash, but I’d rather someone else do it.”
“You would violate our bargain?” said Buster, his entire body starting to shrivel.
“Hello? What bargain?” said Hysteria. “Do you see the king of Hiward anywhere? Because I don’t. And where’s the Zenithar, hmm?”
As Buster’s body deflated, blood poured out from every hole in the man’s head. It was gross enough to distract me from how shady the ceiling had become.
“We delivered the packages,” he gurgled. “You are the one who lost them.”
“You were supposed to help me keep them!”
“After delivery, our only obligation was to make…” Buster took a wet, rattling breath. “...‘best efforts’ to assist you.”
“Oh, we’re arguing semantics now?” said Hysteria. “How about this? I agreed to give you the opportunity for vengeance. I did that, and three members of your team got demoted to fertilizer. All that you’ve given me is a front-row seat to your humiliation. Now you wanna cry blood about it?”
“Yourgh ighterghference ghwill oorght staughndd. I grhullghrubblingh…”
By this point, I was having difficulty making out what Buster was saying. It was more gargling than speech.
Hysteria snapped their fingers twice more. “I said stop it! If and when I’d like you to summon a blood god, I’ll let you know.” Hysteria shot me a look. “Seriously kid, what kind of fucked up karma do you have?”
Xim sighed and rubbed at her forehead. I wanted to defend myself. Assuming what Xim had said about me was true, if anyone summoned a blood god I’d be fully capable of wrangling it. Sadly, being stripped of my most potent weapon, I could only roll my eyes.
When the corpses began to meld into the mass of blood in front of Buster, the avatar looked down at their digits, confused.
“Why is everyone so difficult to control today?” they asked.
“Because you’ve chosen your victims poorly, brother,” a woman’s voice echoed through the chamber.
The avatar’s head shot up, and the colors on their skeleton squirmed. The ceiling above grew even darker, until it became clear that Avarice’s shadow had encompassed its entire surface.
There was a sound of ticking gears and clinking metal as a towering figure looked down at us from within the shadow. Its eyes lit up with an internal heat.
“Is that a Deiphage Golem?” asked Hysteria. “Where the fuck did you get–”
A bronze fist the width of a train car crashed down onto Hysteria so fast it looked like it had teleported into the room.
Comments
thaughton2
God I hate that thing. It seems like something core to me is directly opposed to everything Hysteria represents. Weird feeling. I wish I could kill and eat that thing to make sure it never returns.
Kor
Mind control is absurdly difficult to write right. And this mad lad here does it multiple times in his story. I'm impressed and I want more !
Orion1024
I love the rules. Hysteria madness is hilarious.
John Anastacio
Truly a bizarre chapter. I feel like I'm on crazy pills.
