A tizn’t habitually viewed
Himself in a mirror in the nude
“There’s a beak on my schnoz.
I’ve a tail, fins, and paws.
I’m a rather conglomerate dude”
The Low Down
If cremefillians take the weirdness cake, tizn’ts nab the whole buffet. As convoluted amalgamation of extinct creatures, former denizens of Mutha Oith from before the Time of the Flush, tizn’ts are bizarre in the extreme. No two are exactly alike (or anything alike, for that matter), and that’s the way they like it. Not even the wondrously diverse boduls can boast an assortment of forms to rival the multifarious tizn’ts.
Uncanny and enigmatic, tizn’ts are a people shrouded in mystery. They begin life, or at least their memories begin, by awakening as fully formed adults, usually in some wildernessical reach or dank cavern. Fully intelligent, they possess no memories of a former existence, their only clues a sagging diaper and a strangely printed tag (usually clipped to an ear or appendage). From whence they came and why are questions best left to the wisenheimers who study such things, but an inscrutable entity known as the Primordial Soup Kitchen is believed to be somehow involved.
Tizn’ts celebrate their own individuality. They are each completely different, composed of various bits and pieces of ancient beasts. Nobody knows for certain what the constituent creatures may once have looked like in their entirety (although Hoomanracian artifacts occasionally reveal a hint or two). Their names and natures are lost to the Flush, but wisenheimers find sport in speculating about such things. For tizn’ts, idiosyncrasy is a way of life. Most enjoy being the center of attention. Those who don’t usually find companionship with others of a like mind or live solitary lives far from the domains of other peeps.
The one thing that can be said about scrapping with tizn’ts is not much can be said about scrapping with tizn’ts. They’re all different. The other thing that can be said about scrapping with tizn’ts is, because they’re all different, they often have an unpredictable assortment of jazz to bring to the scuffle. Claws, beaks, talons, horns, stingers, fangs, spines, pointy jabby bits, and all sorts of exotic features could be squished into the mix. One never knows.
Like boduls, every tizn’t is a unique being with his or her own motivations, desires, and impulses. Some dig fighting, others abhor such things. There have, however, been several memorable tizn’t scufflers over the ages. In particular, note such notables as Dolphrog Porcupartrigeon (who freed a batch of cremefillian slaves from bondage in Aggogg), Pengoriloris Tigelegiraffe (who bloodied the dirt in Floom’s Scrappin’ Hole with the fluids of a hundred foes), and Rainbow Sprinkles (the pie-slinger of Yapple).
Getting Along With Others
Tizn’t are used to being stared at and pelted with unanswerable questions about their lineage and embarrassing interrogations about their anatomy. Some resent this attention, shunning the company of others. Others revel in it, celebrating their diversity and flaunting their uniqueness. The first group tend to be hermits of one sort or another, either wandering the glob in search of someone weirder than themselves or retreating to some wildernessical boondock to ponder existence in solitude. The city of Over There, holeward of the Badunka Bight on Keister Island, is a haven for such tizn’ts, peopled almost entirely by members of that ilk. Tizn’ts who don’t mind the attention live life just like everybody else, either enjoying the scrutiny or ignoring it.
Since tizn’ts don’t have families, usually awakening to sentience alone in the wild wearing nothing but a diaper and a nametag, they get to choose their own names. Sure, there’s something written on the nametag, and a lot of tizn’ts choose to go by that (once they figure out how to pronounce it), but as far as anybody can tell it’s just a bunch of random nonsense. Wisenheimers postulate these palaverous conglomerations are actually contractions listing the extinct creatures whose traits compose that particular tizn’t, but that’s never been proven. Here are some examples: Toucanacondor Flaminguez, Pandalope the Panderer, Kangaroostrich Platypotamonk, Camelobstrich Salamandrill, Babooningale Tarantulemming, and Rhinostrichuck Caterillapus (Mayor of Over There). Of course, many tizn’ts decide to call themselves something else entirely, which is perfectly acceptable: Doorq Snozzleweiner, Pickle Head Frankenfortress of Scab, Reputus Merkle Garbonzo the Somewhat Less Than Sane, Gobblecluck the Never-Been-Asked-That-Question-Before.
Although most tizn’ts are cobbled of animal bits, a rare few, known as tain’ts, contain vegetable matter as well. These peeps are a strange mixture of beast and plant. They’re otherwise pretty much like other tizn’ts in every way, which is to say completely different from anybody else, but I thought they deserved a special mention. A few tain’ts you probably never heard of: Cantelope Dandelion, Asparagobster Fromage (Big Cheese of Maankaas), Kudumber Daiseel, Limon the Horc Hacker, and Sycamouse Algostrimaple (beastpuncher and boss of New Oorlquar’s Saddlesitters Salmagundi).
The Primordial Soup Kitchen
This esoteric and perplexing scullery is thought by some to be the work of ancient oofos, luminous and benign beings from A Really Long Time Ago. Stories say these peeps wandered the Oith (and perhaps various elsewheres) in some sort of enormous gleaming conveyance, harvesting assorted traits from all the organisms of the day. To what end? Possibly they anticipated the Flush and planned to use the amassed material to restock the Oith After the Wipe. Maybe they were just into that sort of thing. Regardless, when they went to recombine the omnifarious bits they must have lost the recipes or something, resulting in the fascinating peeps known as tizn’ts.
Nobody knows where the Primordial Soup Kitchen is or what it looks like. Its secrets remain among Oith’s greatest mysteries. Many see the continued appearance of new tizn’ts as proof of the Kitchen’s enduring existence.