The Garden of Names is, in some ways, the antithesis of Vitrium.
Since the widespread adaptation of True Magic in the Reclamation Era, written magic has become more and more complex. Today’s mages understand magic itself on a fundamental level. The stronghold of this leap in arcane advancement is, of course, Vitrium- The Crystal Ring.
But while mortal races have carved a foothold into the endless depths of Vitrium… so very little has been recovered from the mythical Garden. The reason is simple. Giants.
The gargantuan gardening guardians of the Garden of Names employ a type of magic that is a fraction as complex and exponentially more powerful than the arts wielded by mortals. By all accounts, the casting process consists of a single word that will echo across the sky like thunder. The effects produced will usually be simple. Flame. Rainfall. Lightning. Darkness. They will also be cataclysmic. A torrent of flame that swallows miles in ash. Rainfall that washes away all invaders in a mudslide. Bolts of lightning that turn earth into glass and soldiers into memories. And darkness… darkness that swallows all.
- an excerpt from Atlas and History: Megadungeons - by Rudeus Flukewrit
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After temporarily disembarking the boat among young, curious pups, the group was cautiously led alongside the road carved into the side of the channel to what appeared to be a table of sorts, with woven fibrous mats surrounding it. The Telchine that had hissed at them from the channel led the way. From the greying fur on their face and torso, coupled with the scarring present on their scales, Gio thought that they may have been older. The younger Telchine that had dropped the basket of lichen seemed to linger near the older one in a way that suggested immaturity.
Two armored Telchines arrived to stand guard behind them.
Gio whispered to his group right before they sat down.
“I think the armored ones are Watchers. They are combat-oriented… and they have skills to make their venom more powerful,” he said, recalling information from his grandfather’s notes.
Chandrika closed her eyes momentarily, casting a spell that made golden symbols float above her head. She turned to the Telchines, and though she did not speak out loud, her words projected into the minds of all present.
“Hello.” She said.
A soft gasping sound came from the younger Telchine. The older one spoke in an unfamiliar language with a hoarse voice, and a timbre that sounded distinctly dog-like.
“He’s asking us if we’re here to destroy their home,” Chandrika said, her features tightening.
“What? No! And how can you understand him?” Gio asked.
“[Tongues.] It''s a spell for transcending language commonly used by diplomats. I had a suspicion it would work, but I’ve only used it on grandmother’s familiars before.” Chandrika replied.
She turned to their hosts. “We mean you no harm. We have come seeking something deeper within this dungeon. We would also like to trade if you are amenable.” She said, her voice clear and directionless, almost all-encompassing.
The Telchine looked ponderous for a moment, answering her with a confident look.
Chandrika translated both ways. “He’s saying that further into the dungeon is… it’s not a direct translation but it means either forbidden or sacred, perhaps both. He will gladly allow us to pass, but warns that we should not anger the guardians and try to retreat this way.”
“What guardians? We only know about Telchines… unless the guardians are telchines?” Hatra asked.
“I’m having a hard time translating certain concepts of what he’s saying… but the gist is that the Telchines who live beyond the village aren’t… I’m not sure, it sounds like he’s saying they aren’t alive anymore, but that can’t be right.” Chandrika puzzled.
“That must be why my grandfather wrote that they become hostile past this point. Ask them if they know of a man who came this way.” Gio asked.
The Telchine glanced at Gio, eyes widening for a moment. He spoke, and Chandrika looked surprised as well.
“He… expressed his condolences for your grandfather’s death. Apparently, Francisco would bring small toys for the children. He was not able to communicate with them, but they took to calling him “Old River Spirit.””Chandrika said.
Gio’s voice caught in his throat in a way that he was not expecting.
“Thank you.”
Why am I feeling sad all of a sudden? I didn’t even know him. Is it just because this is… humanizing him a little?
Over the years, Gio had ample time to develop an opinion about his late grandfather. Gradually, he had settled on the belief that it was irresponsible to leave a child to fend for himself in search of treasure, regardless of his motivations or reasoning.
That’s not hypocritical of me, right? Oh no… It might be. I jumped at the chance to go to the casino without considering my friends'' feelings. Well, that being said they’re vastly better off than me, and don’t rely on me financially.
Hearing about Francisco delivering toys to dungeon-dwelling children despite a language barrier was wholesome in a way that Gio was unprepared for.
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Hatra put her arm around Gio, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Thanks.” Gio said.
“Any time, cousin.”
The younger telchine spoke up, causing the older one to look harshly in his direction for a moment. The older one barked an order, which seemed to make him shrink back from the table.
Chandrika looked very confused.
“What? What did he say?” Sapphire asked.
“He… asked us if we could “put his father to rest”. Then the village leader told him that it was improper to make such a request of “Challengers” - which is what they call us.” Chandrika stated.
“What does he mean by put to rest? What are we missing here?” Jean asked.
The older Telchine huffed, which Chandrika did not need to translate for his reluctance to come through. He spoke in a low, growling drawl, closing his sparkling eyes as he did so.
“Oh… dead gods below… that’s dreadful. The dungeon demands sacrifices. The guardians that we will encounter are Telchines who have been taken over by the spirits or… as he puts it “Those called to serve.” He said it is something of a divisive matter in the village. Some consider it an honor, and others view it as a tragedy to be chosen.” She translated.
The older Telchine handed the younger one something that looked like a leaf-wrapped parcel from the table and shooed him away. The younger one accepted the parcel, but not before looking deeply into Gio’s eyes. His glossy, galaxy-filled eyes sparkled in the perpetually overcast sky of the dungeon.
The Telchine handed parcels to each member of the group. Gio unwrapped his to reveal some sort of dried rice cake.
“They are popular among the children, he says.”
Gio bit into the rice cake, surprised at how sweet it was. It was sort of nutty, with a faint floral flavor.
“This is really good!” Gio said!
The Telchine laughed, reaching out to unwrap one himself.
“He says to eat it slowly. It is… oh! Now you tell us?! He says it is poisonous in large amounts!” Chandrika said.
The Telchine laughed more, waving her off.
“...But in small amounts can treat upset stomachs. I think we’re fine to eat them.”
“Do you have a name?” Gio asked.
He faced Gio.
“No.” Chandrika translated, surprising even herself.
“Oh. Is… there a reason why you don’t have a name?” Gio asked.
“Names are useless. They serve to bring the attention of the spirits upon us.. The last time one of us named her children… she watched as the spirits took them from her, one by one. She went mad, throwing herself at the… word that means forbidden or sacred place… until she was slain by the guardians.” The Telchine said through Chandrika.
“But what if you wanted to talk about someone who wasn’t here?” Gio pondered.
“ If you wish to talk to someone, the village is small- you go to them and say what you wish to say. Gossip and praise are both forbidden. We humbly do what we must to keep our way of life alive, and we pay tribute to the spirits when they ask… actually… follow this one. We must show you something.”
The elder Telchine led them back down the steps, near the edge of the water. He bent over, Cupping his clawed hands into the waterway. He brought the water up to his mouth and blew on it. As his breath touched the water, a greenish hue bloomed into it. He let it splash onto the rock path, and it hardened into metal spikes covered in patina. He picked one up, holding it to the light.
“This is our blessing, and our curse. All of us have the gift of metal. The spirits jealously guard it. Those of us who embrace and train this gift are taken at a much lower rate than those who do not… but the spirits will demand that we offer tribute. As you travel through the path ahead, you will see members of our tribe crafting at altars overseen by guardians. It would be suicide to interrupt them while they work. If you seek the shrine… ignore these altars.”
The team absorbed what he said, thanking him and munching on their rice cakes as they returned to the table.
“You said that you wished to trade, yes? But… what could we offer challengers such as yourselves?”
Sapphire perked up.
“You grow rice. I can grow as much of it as you can store, all I ask is for a sprig of it so that we may clone it.” She said.
The Telchine visibly shivered.
“This spell your oracle uses is fascinating. That your people have a word that means to cut something in twain and regrow it from base parts… frightening. But yes, I would be a fool to deny that this would benefit my people. The lichen that you grew for us is already going to be enough of a boon.” Chandrika translated.
The elder Telchine motioned to one of his guards, and soon a rice seedling was brought over, complete with its own basket full of soft mud. Sapphire wove a beautiful lattice of magic around it after a few moments of dedicated study. Gradually, sheaf upon sheaf grew from the sprig. After what felt like a mountain of rice was grown, a visibly tired Sapphire flopped back down upon the mat she had been sitting on.
“You did great,” Hatra said, allowing her to rest and patting her shoulder.
Sapphire’s usual chipper smile was a little haggard. Her azure hair was tied back in a messy bun, and beads of perspiration trailed down her dark skin.
“Here… one sheaf for you. Make Rika do the… chaff… separating…. Winnowing…. I’m just gonna close my eyes for a sec, kay?” She said, nodding off.
Chandrika giggled, accepting a few strands of the rice from the sheaf. Jean was flying in the air above the water, allowing a few of the pups to chase him around as they cooed and cawed at his glowing wings.
Chandrika rolled a few of the rice stalks between her fingers and Gio watched with rapt fascination as the soft stems of the rice plant separated into thin strands.
“Is… that magic? Or a skill?” Gio asked.
“A little magic… a little Skill… and a heaping helping of practice. In Bangla we use a lot of jute fibers… it’s not very similar to this, but the general idea is still there. Now this… this is magic.” She said.
The separated fibers twisted and tightened until they were tiny, wisp-like threads. Those threads then crossed and created a mesh.
“This is the first part. It’s not quite paper yet.” Chandrika said, handing Gio a square.
“It’s… really cool. Thank you both.” Gio said.
After bidding goodbye to the Telchines, the group returned to the boat, preparing to enter a much more dangerous leg of their journey.