Goodkind meets Frank Herbert (and possibly David Lynch too)

'A beginning is a very serious time. The thing is rising. The Old Lands are ruled by Emperor Jagang, Evil Incarnate. In this time, the most important substance is moral clarity. Moral clarity extends life. Moral clarity expands consciousness. Moral clarity is vital to ruling people. The Seekers of Truth, transformed by moral clarity, have been using the Sword of Truth, which gives them the ability to use add and subtract things.
Oh yes, I forgot. Moral clarity exists only within a single man now. A valiant, heroic avatar, who will fulfill the long held prophecies, and lead the D'Harans to true freedom. The man is Richard Cypher, also known as Richard Rahl.'

- whelp

Richard raised his thing, calling out to Emperor Jagangbang, “Majesty, is there anyone among you that lacks moral clarity?”

Royal disdain revealed itself in the way the Emperor turned to look at Richard. Clearly Jagangbang did not like him. “I am sorry, but I will not answer that question.”

Richard knew better… Jagangbang wasn’t really sorry.

He responded by staring at Jagangbang with that characteristic raptor stare of his That is to say, he stared at him blank and dumbfounded, as a lizard stares at a fly hovering just out of reach.

Richard didn’t move. Jagangbang didn’t move. They all didn’t move.

“BAWK!!!!” the chicken-that-was-not-a-chicken cackled. The cackle sounded almost like a laugh. “Bawk-bawk-bawk”

The chicken stode forward, clucking as it went. Richard instantly saw something behind the chicken’s eyes that he lacked: intelligence.

The chicken stood on one leg, tensed its back muscles, spurted a spray of feces and then cackled laughingly. Though the chicken wasn’t speaking any words, he instantly knew that this was no ordinary chicken, but evil incarnate, and that it was accepting his challenge so long as he obeyed the forms of Kanly. The chicken was also subtly insinuating that it kept a deadly weapon concealed at its hip.

The chicken hopped on one leg. A ripple of disbelief rippled ripplingly throughout the crowd in a manner resembling a ripple. “This is stupid” someone muttered. They all broke down into tears at the absurd stupidity of it all.

Richard seethed, the barely contained psychotic rage boiling beneath his skin.

Richard drew the Crysknife of Truth.

Maker of Death.

Suddenly, all the knowledge and experience of his ancestors in the fields of swordplay, alchemy, ancient Egyptian algebra, Ja La, dessert-preparation, and tap-dancing came flooding back to him.

Maker of Pies.

The chicken hopped on one leg, cackling in a manner that caused a shiver to run down the audiences’ spines. Or it would have, had Richard not ripped their spines out a moment earlier. By laughing at him they had demonstrated their allegiance to evil incarnate, demonstrating their lack of moral clarity, demonstrating their choice of death over life. Therefore, it was the only moral thing to do to kill them all.

Baker of Cakes.

The chicken flapped its wings and stared at Richard menacingly.

Richard lunged forward, because he was an individual, he was able to strike completely recklessly, while the chicken, who was not actually a chicken but a giant fighting communist centipede, attacked strategically, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. This strategic delay was all the opening it took for Richard to slice the chicken’s head clean off its neck, blood spurted everywhere as the chicken’s head arced through the air, its head falling on the ground with a satisfying splat.

Richard almost failed to notice the flip-beak that protruded from the chicken’s waist! The chicken lunged forward at him, and Richard realized that he couldn’t let the flip-beak peck him, as then he would contract the deadly disease known as chicken pox.

Author of Trash.

Richard’s thing rose up in him. Richard took his left hand, and aided by the lubrication from the anal sex scene in the previous chapter, slid it into the chicken’s chest and ripped out its heart.

Maker of death.

“Jagangbang,” Richard called out, “it appears as if the colonel has one less chicken for his deep-fryer!”

Richard laughed. Kahlan laughed. They all laughed.

Then Richard got into a 2-hour long diatribe on why objectivism is good and why Atlas should shrug more often.

- Antares