Jazz Chicken

The fallen Empire of Jubm’z knew it as Kbaa-Dijdlfo, He-Who-Guards-the-Golden-Gate, He-Who-Is-Reborn-Golden, He-of-Herbs, He-of-Spices. M’Xepc Glenngordon recorded it in his annals Nedd Glmgoir, known by many aliases such as the Crispy M’n, Dawnbringer, Old Scratcher, or Eggman. The Whozm know it as The Qvwqysb of Xonn, and they warn that its desirability is matched only by its danger.

Whatever the name and whatever the legend, all agree that the creature stands like a sentinel against the darkness at the highest points of the world, guarding the gates of dawn and seeing in each new day while holding back that which would cross over. As hard as stone, thousands of years old, and wise even beyond those years, but dangerous all the same. For although its song is sweet, it can easily sound the note that ends the world, sundering the gate between day and night, light and dark, sanity and madness. It less baleful cry is still enough to vibrate the unwary apart, literally dissolving them into sand that is borne away upon a volcanic wind.

With its great knowledge, many have sought the being at the highest peaks, seeking its wisdom. Assuming they are not cut down by its song or its spurs, the being has been known to grant them their boon. But the infinite wisdom it offers is too great to be perceived by mortal minds–blindness, deafness, and madness inevitably follow, with the afflicted locked in a cage of their own limitations.

High Inquisitor’s Note:
Do not trifle with it.

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