Long ago, there were a group of beings who lived on a higher plane. The plane was called Origin, a lush radiant civilization which resided on the clouds. Gold trimmed buildings with paths of feathers. Language, commerce, theater, they had it all. Yet, they felt unfufilled. One day, these beings found a tear in the cloud cover. It revealed another land, covered in water, greenery, and stone. Gradually, some of these people left for the second land. It was named Surface. As Surface started to grow, its language shifted from that of Origin. Making new words, dropping some, and creating dialects.
Unlike in Origin, none of them were unsatisfied with Surface. However, another rift was found, in Surface. It lead to a dark, unfamiliar area. Nobody was brave enough to go into it. Except for a group of adventurers, ever the curious. They were lead by a venturer, now known as The First. Unbeknownst to the venturers, the rift had closed. Luckily, they brought resources, and used their abilities to create a settlement. The people on Surface titled the area Abyss.
Years had past, the records of The First were documented forever. Then another rift to the Abyss opened. A new group of people went down, this time they were poets. Their leader was documented as The Second, yet their fate was the same. This happened three more times. Time and time again, foolish people went down into the Abyss. Bards, Nomads, Prisoners. After the five leaders went down, the stories of the Abyss were truly stories. Rumors of language forming down there lingered, yet everyone knew it was false.
Until now. Centuries later, a new rift has opened. A mere historian, forced to wander aimlessly through the Abyss. Those who have tread before me have been lost, and it is my job not only to find them, but also to uncover the secrets and language of the Abyss Venturers. Fate has damned me, eternally, treading through Abyss.