Journal Entry of Historian Eldric Thorne

Date: The 27th Day of the Sun’s Descent, Season 1423
I sit here, quill in hand, staring at the parchment before me, my frustration boiling over like a cauldron left too long on the fire. The Underling language, a sacred tongue passed down through generations, is being twisted and mangled by the youth of today. They wield words like blunt instruments, hacking away at the rich tapestry of our heritage.
“Why must they do this?” I mutter to myself, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls of my study. “Do they not understand the weight of each syllable, the history embedded in every phrase?”
I recall a conversation I had with young Aric just yesterday. He had the audacity to use the term “glimfizz” in place of “glimmering light.” When I questioned him, he shrugged nonchalantly, as if the alteration was of no consequence.
“It’s just easier, Eldric,” he said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “No one speaks like you anymore. We need to keep up with the times.”
“Keep up with the times?” I echoed, incredulous. “The Underling language is not some common dialect to be bent and reshaped at whim. It is the lifeblood of our culture, a bridge to our ancestors. Every word, every intonation carries meaning beyond mere communication.”
Aric rolled his eyes, a gesture that stung more than any blade. “You’re too stuck in the past. Language evolves, old man. Deal with it.”
I wanted to shake him, to make him see the folly of his ways. But I knew it would be futile. The youth are like the river, ever-changing, carving new paths through the landscape. Yet, I cannot help but mourn the erosion of our linguistic heritage.
The Underling language is more than just words. It is a symphony of sounds, a dance of letters that tells the story of our people. To alter it so carelessly is to sever the threads that bind us to our history. I fear that in their quest for convenience, the youth are losing something irreplaceable.
I dip my quill in ink once more, determined to document these changes, to preserve what I can before it is lost forever. Perhaps one day, when the tides of time have shifted, they will look back and understand the importance of what they have discarded.
For now, I remain a guardian of the old ways, a lone voice in the wilderness, crying out for respect and reverence for the words that shaped our world.
Eldric Thorne, Historian of the Underling Language