Sap. That is what these thin-shelled fools call it. As if such a substance could ever be compared to Nirn-tainted resin. No, it is much more than sap.
"Amber Plasm." That is what one of the scholars called it before I fed him to Mighty Chudan. He said that it was like the chaotic creatia of Oblivion—leaking into Mundus through our Hist like blood from a wound. These dry-tongues and their airs—as if anyone could know the secrets of the Hist better than I!
The plasm has accumulated at the roots of the Tsono-Xuhil since before the Saxhleel could lift a spade, but only I have discovered its secrets. Drinking it or bathing in it can drive a Saxhleel mad. But through alchemical study, and the Hist's guidance, I have learned to harness its power. This was no small feat. The creatia is a thing of chaos. The call to Sithis is in its nature. But we must remain deaf to his commands. Those Saxhleel who call him father languish in mud huts and eat old fish from wooden bowls. The Xit-Xaht hear the call to order, and shall dwell in a shining city forever more!
If properly manipulated, the Amber Plasm can grant a worthy Saxhleel great speed and strength. I am proof of its efficacy. Soon, my brew will be ready to distribute to all Xit-Xaht sons and daughters. Then Mazzatun will be a rival even to the Imperial City! The People of the Root will rule Black Marsh first, then all of Tamriel!