| Book Information | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Source: | |||
To understand Mazzatun, you've got to understand Argonians, all right? And no one understands the Argonians. The Argonians don't even understand the Argonians. So it's hardly worth the effort. But I can tell you're keen to learn all you can, so here goes.
Mazzatun is a puzzle, all right? It's a ball of yarn. A tangled, crumbling mess that contradicts every architectural theory on record. I was like you once, you know? I spent the better part of a year interviewing Argonians from surrounding tribes, trying to get some sense of where the ruins came from, how they were built, and why they were built. The best answers I got were half-hearted shrugs and warnings to avoid the ruins entirely. "It's the Hist," they'd say. "The Hist is crazy."
After the Knahaten Flu broke out, a detachment from House Redoran drove into Mazzatun and cleared the place out. They thought that the ruins' inhabitants, the Xit-Xaht tribe, might have been responsible for the plague, you see? I seized the opportunity and joined the expeditionary force—keen to finally see the "Puzzle City" with my own eyes. After the raid was complete, I spent days sketching, measuring, and mapping. I explored every forgotten nook and every hidden cranny. And after all that, I can say with total honesty that I still have no idea what these lizards were thinking.
Nothing in Mazzatun makes sense. It's a jumble of twisting hallways, random alcoves, and hundreds of dead ends. Weathered staircases lead straight into ceilings. There are walls that are hewn to look like doors, and doors that are hewn to look like walls. There are tiny windows into rooms that are too small to enter. And everywhere … everywhere, corpses--desiccated skeletons crushed under collapsed masonry, or left to starve in rooms with no doors. I tell you, it was like peering into Sheogorath's broom closet. Utter madness. It's damn near a miracle that I found my way out.
Mazzatun's only consistent feature is its deviant Hist. Wherever you go, that crazy tree looks down on you. Judging you, you know? Its roots span the entirety of the ruins—pushing through stonework and scaffolding like massive, gnarled tentacles. And all around these huge supports, pools of glowing amber goo bubble up out of the ground like water from a cursed spring. I couldn't begin to tell you what that fluid is, but the Argonians that wallowed in it were frothing mad. Barking and hissing like wild animals. Chilled me to the bone.
I hear that the Xit-Xaht have returned to the Puzzle City. If that's true, take my advice and leave it alone. There's nothing more to learn--no secret treasures or arcane mysteries. The only things you'll find in Mazzatun are madness, misery, and death. Like I said, no one understands the Argonians. Believe me when I say that it's likely to stay that way.