Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

OP: "Come before me, IQfyizens! My council-men! Gather! Gather yourselves!"
>OP sags down gravely upon a marble throne. Head resting upon one hand, with the other he clutches half-consciously at a roaring lion carved into the arm of the seat. He is a man of early middle age, but his slow manner and sullen demeanor suggest the burden of lordship now rest on him heavily.
>OP wets his lips and takes a slow breath.
OP: "I have summoned you, Wise Men--my Hermits, my Guardians, my Fools--I have summoned you because--because, I have had a dream!"
>OP's eyes bulge as he grimaces--now leaning forward and clutching with a death grip the arms of the throne.
>He relaxes and takes a deep breath.
OP: "In this dream, an endless field of tulips grew--vast upon the hills as stars on night--and dew danced upon their stalks, 'til root and stem were changed to loathsome worm, and the worm-stem consumed the bloom, and the blooms bled, and the putrid drops therewith soured all the fields of our fair kingdom. All became horror and ruin of blood."
>His Lordship coughs haggardly into the hem of his fur cloak. The crown skews. He continues.
OP: "Out of the center grew a great agate stone. It loomed as a moor-green tower over the blood-black hills. On it, graven these three lines--boomed by a voice from within, loud as a mountain's fire and thrice's thrice as dire:
'Here Lies IQfy,
Where once Men read,
but now, none reads.' "
>Lord OP shudders, clasping his face in his shaking hand and dragging down slowly until just one eye is seen. He whispers:

Beware Cat Shirt $21.68

Rise, Grind, Banana Find Shirt $21.68

Beware Cat Shirt $21.68

  1. 4 weeks ago
    OP

    OP: "So, I have summoned you here lest this dark terror come to pass."
    >He coughs. OP then rises to his feet, spreading arms wide and speaking with stentorian tone.
    OP: "Let you all, my Book-born Men, my Shelf-worn Hardbacks, solid men of heft, lords of the weightier things of the world--of which the peasantry unburden themselves gleefully--bring before me an offering of Threes. Present your authors and tomes--plays and poets--presented as a Platter of Three--whatever is best to your tastes, and together we will feast upon knowledge like a gorging hog who knows not that the tallow knife will test its fat, that the blood-bringing stone come not hither and befoul the good land of our suckling. That the Great One not split the heavens and to dust return us for the squandering of our gift and charge. And if any man be over-zealous, let him present his zeal in a multiple of Three or of Seven, for they are handsome numbers befitting our dignity and resolve. Let me first present my own gift to you, lest I, your anointed King, be thought a poor host."
    >OP claps his hands twice, and three men come forth, each in the august, hooded robes befitting a Sage-Knight of the Realm. A Thread Herald comes forth and announces each guest. As he does, the Sage-Knights step forward and unveil their person.
    Thread Herald: "Beloved, Yeats! Fire-wreathed and black robed, in one hand, the gilt scroll of his works and, in the other, the hazel-wood cup of the Salmon's Well!"
    >Yeats nod gently with a slight sigh and pushes up his glasses with his index finger before taking a sip of water from his cup.
    Thread Herald: "Benevolens, Chaucer! Luminously glowing and white robed, he clutches fondly his tome of Canterbury, and the pearl lantern of honest sight in the other!"
    >Chaucer chuckles with modest brevity and produces a mild fidget.
    Thread Herald: "And lastly, in crimson red and shining brightly, Multiplicated, Shakespeare! He who clutches the kaleidoscoped gem of understanding and the gilt feathered pen of his labors! Honor these, the Fore-Fathers of our Preconscious! Recognize these Masters of Pen and Sage-Knights of our Realm!"
    >Shakespeare steps forward and confidently poses. A light shines in his eyes, and a subtle smirking smile touches the corner of his mouth. All three men bow. The herald departs. OP, standing speaks once more.
    OP: "May you, kin, be blessed of these three hearth-friends of ours, all sages! May the Great One show wisdom 'tween cover and pages! Now come forth, friends, and present what thou hast won from the Ages!"
    >OP laughs heartily like something between a grandfather and a madman.

    • 4 weeks ago
      The Fool

      The Fool: But my lord, my king, my gentle master, what of this dreadful dream? My lord, if you allow me, it seems you rule a kingdom of the blind. Whence come the men from the crowd who read such blesséd names? Not I, my lord OP, no. See there, that man I point to!

      [The Fool points]

      The Fool: See, this man! Whence does he hail from? My lord, he is from /sffg/! And this man!

      [The Fool points at another]

      The Fool: This man comes from IQfy! He does not read, good king, but shitposts about moors and other miscreant members of the kingdom! Good sir, will you say aught in your own defence? - Look my good king, he does not! He only shows us images of toads! And there, that man!

      [The Fool drags a man before OP]

      The Fool: This man, without shame, laments his place in the world, raging against the great chain that binds us, and mentions ne'er a page nor man who writ a page! And my lord, these are only a few of the men that inhabit your kingdom, surrounded as it is by those ignorant and base and more foolish than I. Indeed, my letters are few, and I cannot bring them forth. Only the names, my lord, and that a half-forgotten thought. I know not whence they are now. I am a Fool, my lord, and foolish was I taught. Milton, Peake, and Tolkien; that is three, and must be all that I have brought.

      • 4 weeks ago
        OP

        >The King rubs his chin, made anxious by the unsullied wisdom of The Fool.
        OP: Calm yourself, good Fool. Fret not. Rightly have you spoken and the knaves you bring--perhaps harbingers of our doom--yet, still, for their sakes and that of all we now abide, and our lot we may not abandon; neither shall their lawless ways--led astray by the wordless screen, that scyer's pane in whose gleam the i/lit/erates seek endlessly the stimulus of holly-wizards from far off--overtake us, but by the warning of the dream we must right our course. And true it is! You have done good service here in this court, honored Fool, for you have three names spoken which are as bells chiming in the sun-lit halls of Our Fathers, and that as best your mind may apprehend.
        >OP claps his hands.
        OP: Thread-Wench! Come! Bring something from our store of good drink! This Wise-Fool, has his loyalty upheld!

      • 4 weeks ago
        The Knave

        Well, will we weep for th'oncoming blasted board's bated breath?
        For this fickle, crass and craven clutch of runts--
        These vile, venom-vaunting vicious dimwit dogs
        And the nightly Black person nagging /misc/ peals and posts?
        "Not I!" And surely shall you shriek and shiver!
        Scream!--snarl for the certain sailing fate--
        For the final fevered footfalls of the dying board
        Laugh will I, laugh for th' long-suffered languid love of losing lovers
        Whose wailing wish will never be, not now and nevermore!

      • 4 weeks ago
        Anonymous

        Holy shittttttt I wish I had 3 books worth of your majesty

  2. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    Thou made a good thread at last, milord

    • 4 weeks ago
      OP

      Blessed fpbp, good man, a boon art thou upon my thread.

  3. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    Very nice prose op

    • 4 weeks ago
      OP

      Kind of you to say, blessed kin.

  4. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    /// There's a reason the pang of loneliness hurts so much /// Incomprehensibly twisting lanes of swarming tenements stood cheek by jowl beside the villas of the rich /// Financial institutions are still reeling from the blow /// I was nervous, but seeing her allayed my fears /// Their family business is a rinky-dink operation /// I don't understand this form - it's all couched in legal terminology /// These countries are on the brink of cataclysmic famine /// The government has turned a minor local problem into a full-blown regional conflagration /// There's a famous statue by Rodin, which shows the soul of a young woman striving to break free of the flesh of an old crone /// He gathered up the twigs and cast them into the fire /// Educational reform was one of the main planks of their election campaign /// He looked unusually chipper this morning /// All the rest is not evidence, it is just scurrilous gossip and rumour /// Trying to read between the lines of CEO departure statements is a longstanding parlor game for investors, journalists and academics who study succession /// Our fashion editor gives you the lowdown on winter coats for this season /// Sarah was squalling in her crib /// The stilted conversation turned to whether horse-drawn carriages were superior to riding on camel, horse or elephant /// He started issuing peremptory instructions /// Cut it out, you two – I'm tired of listening to you argue! /// The lift is driven by hydraulics /// Bubbeleh, you've got to stop stressing about what other people think /// Whether they had been successful or not was a moot point /// She tried to hit me up for a loan till payday, but I didn’t have any money to give her /// The president's trip had all the trappings of a state visit /// It's free, unfettered window access and someone's already pulled up the blinds /// The four men were killed after a summary trial /// The bus drew up in the village square and disgorged its passengers /// Each guest had to pony up $40 for the meal /// Opening with a musical and lyrical prelude, this symphonic composition was to end with a postlude /// The Iranians have worked painstakingly in the past decade to build up a redoubtable deterrence capability on Israel’s borders with Lebanon, Syria, and Gaza /// Dr. Mann didn't deign to interrupt his eating, but Jake shot me a second piercing squint ///

  5. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    Is there a 'best' version of Shakespeare to read? i have a cheap complete collection book, but will buy better versions if recommended.

    • 4 weeks ago
      OP

      Probably, but I don't know which one that would be. I just made this thread for people to rec their favorite authors and books, but it doesn't seem like anyone is interested.

  6. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    OP: It occurs to me, brothers, our cause may be lifted by the presence and nature of Woman's Wisdom--which is like cool water in a deep stone basin that reflects the moon's soft light upon our souls. Thread Herald! Summon the Sagacious Maiden-Counselors of our kingdom! Let them be seen and honored here among us, though the glory of women has not the gaudy power of the brilliance of men!
    >The Thread Herald calls for the Sage Maidens. Trumpeters peal a seven-fold blast to summon them forth from the Temple of the Maiden Sages, where day and night they labor in austere service to book and pen with neither weariness nor confusion, though oft in frenzy.
    >A few minutes later, a servant informs the King of their arrival. King-OP hushes the thread with a tamping gesture from his raised hands. He speaks.
    OP: Let all now here be silent and behold our Blessed Women! Mothers of the minds of our Progeny, Nurse-maids of our own hearts! Let them find respect among you, for they too toil in patient service to the power of words and truth! And to any man who finds desire stirring, let him temper his bestial lusts with the honor due these diadems of the Femine Order.
    Thread Herald: Ever-Blushing, Sappho! She, of dancing wit and symphonic verse, who stirrs the hearts of all like rushing wind which reaves the summer grasses twain in vigor! Clothed in the pink of her passion, she bears the roses of romance!
    >Sappho beams a bright smile.
    Thread Herald: Twice-Reserved, Jane Austen! She, of calm and gentle heart, who best of all has sought to temper all with modest empathy and worthy regard! Clothed in the blue of her regality, she bears the peonies of matrimony!
    >Jane's expression remains obscure, yet her manner suggests she is not displeased.
    Thread Herald: In-Gazing, Christina Rosetti! Mother of all daughters, daughter of all mothers, she, of mystery and facile grace of tongue, who tames the wicked among men and preserves the pure among women! Clothed in the lavender of her insight, she bears the azaleas of prudence!
    >Christina stares at the IQfyerary Men, at first a look of judgement on her face. Gradually, her features soften, and a warm pity fills her eyes. She smiles. She, and the others curtsy and retreat to the left side of the King.
    OP: May these three, most-fair among our bountiful hinds, temper our heated banter and simmer this, our feasting, with the stirring of virility!
    >King-OP sits once more. Hands folded upon his lap. Clearly pleased with himself.

    • 4 weeks ago
      Anonymous

      I’ve recently enjoyed Romola, The Winter of our Discontent, and The Crying of Lot 49

      /// There's a reason the pang of loneliness hurts so much /// Incomprehensibly twisting lanes of swarming tenements stood cheek by jowl beside the villas of the rich /// Financial institutions are still reeling from the blow /// I was nervous, but seeing her allayed my fears /// Their family business is a rinky-dink operation /// I don't understand this form - it's all couched in legal terminology /// These countries are on the brink of cataclysmic famine /// The government has turned a minor local problem into a full-blown regional conflagration /// There's a famous statue by Rodin, which shows the soul of a young woman striving to break free of the flesh of an old crone /// He gathered up the twigs and cast them into the fire /// Educational reform was one of the main planks of their election campaign /// He looked unusually chipper this morning /// All the rest is not evidence, it is just scurrilous gossip and rumour /// Trying to read between the lines of CEO departure statements is a longstanding parlor game for investors, journalists and academics who study succession /// Our fashion editor gives you the lowdown on winter coats for this season /// Sarah was squalling in her crib /// The stilted conversation turned to whether horse-drawn carriages were superior to riding on camel, horse or elephant /// He started issuing peremptory instructions /// Cut it out, you two – I'm tired of listening to you argue! /// The lift is driven by hydraulics /// Bubbeleh, you've got to stop stressing about what other people think /// Whether they had been successful or not was a moot point /// She tried to hit me up for a loan till payday, but I didn’t have any money to give her /// The president's trip had all the trappings of a state visit /// It's free, unfettered window access and someone's already pulled up the blinds /// The four men were killed after a summary trial /// The bus drew up in the village square and disgorged its passengers /// Each guest had to pony up $40 for the meal /// Opening with a musical and lyrical prelude, this symphonic composition was to end with a postlude /// The Iranians have worked painstakingly in the past decade to build up a redoubtable deterrence capability on Israel’s borders with Lebanon, Syria, and Gaza /// Dr. Mann didn't deign to interrupt his eating, but Jake shot me a second piercing squint ///

      This was oddly entertaining.

      • 4 weeks ago
        Anonymous

        >oddly entertaining
        Yeah, the dude 'inventories' banal usages and 'cliches'
        His selections, if not 'choice,' certainly 'come off' as often seeming so, perhaps because he has 'a certain' 'panache' for arranging them effectively
        What he does 'is encourage' 'the reader' to re-audit OP for 'cliches' and silly 'usages'

  7. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    tldr;

    • 4 weeks ago
      OP

      Anons like you are precisely why this thread exists, knave!

      • 4 weeks ago
        Anonymous

        at least you are not recommending Murakami

        • 4 weeks ago
          OP

          Murakami has his merits, but I am waiting for others to make their own recs. I larped just to make the thread a little unusual, but really this is just a 3x3 recs thread.

  8. 4 weeks ago
    OP

    Alright, I give up. IQfy is officially dead.

    • 4 weeks ago
      The Fool

      The Fool: 'tis as I warned, fair king, naught is to be found of learning here. But, if you allow, my lord, I will play the fool to your Lear.
      Look around at this once famous board, your kingdom. The pieces are few, and paltry pawns, at that. Worthless things fit for worms! I spit on them! And yet, they each may become queens, if guided, though their path be long and winding, and many may fall at the end. My lord, you lack ambition! For ambition is a noble sort, a guide to greater deeds. It shrugs off hope and hopelessness, for what are they compared to the fruits of ambition? My lord, no man, save one, took the world without ambition, and I do not think you are divine. So speaketh The Fool, who never spoke a word of sense except to other fools.

      • 4 weeks ago
        OP

        OP: You wound me, Fool, but as ever speaks thou truly and plain. Like a lance, piercing the boil that at its pain the body may yet begin to heal, so your words deny my soul the complacency of abandon.
        >OP lets out a huff of amusement. He motions to the Thread Wench to refill The Fool's cup.

        I’ve recently enjoyed Romola, The Winter of our Discontent, and The Crying of Lot 49

        [...]
        This was oddly entertaining.

        >OP stands, glancing as he does at a serving-boy holding a leather-topped foot stool, who runs over and wordlessly places it upon the ground. OP stomps his heavy leg down upon it, and leaning his weight upon his knee, he roars, splashing wine with every word:
        OP: AND WHAT HAVE WE HERE!! A man, not of names only, but enamored of particulars more fine! Truly, sir, an angel to mine eyes thou dost appear, and as a watchman who sees the sun's rays signaling the morning's song!
        >The serving-boy meekly towels the pools of splashed wine off the floor.
        >OP removed his leg and looks down sheepishly, signaling the boy to remove once again the stool. He sits once more.

        Gentle Anon, tis not quite so dead as you fear.

        OP: As a surety, my good booksman. You, yourself, have about you an air of dog-eared leaning!

        >oddly entertaining
        Yeah, the dude 'inventories' banal usages and 'cliches'
        His selections, if not 'choice,' certainly 'come off' as often seeming so, perhaps because he has 'a certain' 'panache' for arranging them effectively
        What he does 'is encourage' 'the reader' to re-audit OP for 'cliches' and silly 'usages'

        >Lord-OP lurches forward. Wine drips from his lips as he grumbles in annoyance.
        OP: What he does is bore me, as he serves not the purpose of the thread, yet at its expense seeks merely to enlarge himself that upon his own visage he may gaze in worship. Better had he gone to /poetry/ and sown his efforts where mayhap they find soil suited to their flourishing. A busy sort, and many are their number--weeds in the garden--full of ambition beyond what is modest.
        >OPs cup thuds upon arm of the throne.
        OP: Nevertheless! He did indeed bump this here, my thread, and for that there needs be least a bit of patience on my part.

        https://i.imgur.com/5Nk9KTN.jpg

        Well, will we weep for th'oncoming blasted board's bated breath?
        For this fickle, crass and craven clutch of runts--
        These vile, venom-vaunting vicious dimwit dogs
        And the nightly Black person nagging /misc/ peals and posts?
        "Not I!" And surely shall you shriek and shiver!
        Scream!--snarl for the certain sailing fate--
        For the final fevered footfalls of the dying board
        Laugh will I, laugh for th' long-suffered languid love of losing lovers
        Whose wailing wish will never be, not now and nevermore!

        OP: Humble yourself, Knave! Your dastardly diatribe--born of bitter-bile--brings barrows burgeoning of diabolically dividing distrust among your brethren! How hast High Heaven hewn hollow your haughty breast? Would you so happily have the hearts of your kinsmen laid low in lamentful gnashing!? Wide wears the waterways where their tears shall spill streams should The Dream come to pass! Not this day, Knave! Remember ye, how wrought with rigid rectitude the rousing of your own calling! For in each, our hearts and minds, wagged the tempting train of the Muses fleeting forms, and from beyond the balustrade of these high IQfyerary halls, rang the shower of their song--resonant, reverbial, and true. Scream, if you must, yet scream the honored names of your Masters. Those men whose chisels carved the chapel of your soul! Let the Great One condemn, if He shall, but let not now narrow nagging numbly bumble from your wiggling lips!
        >King-OP, sympathetic to The Knave, signals to the Thread Wench.
        OP: Wench! Give this embittered Knave a horn of honeyed-mead. May the shining drink remind of better days. Let us heed the wise words of The Fool.

    • 4 weeks ago
      Anonymous

      Gentle Anon, tis not quite so dead as you fear.

  9. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    This thread is going to need to be put on advanced life support.

  10. 4 weeks ago
    OP

    OP: Let these Three Minstrels of Word, bless each where he himself finds, and the days not darken. They are, bold knights each, Sir Andrew Marvell; Sir Alfred, Lord Tennyson; and Sir Gerard Manley Hopkins!

  11. 4 weeks ago
    The Fool

    [The Fool enters. He looks around. There is nobody present. The Fool shrugs and laughs.]

    The Fool: Again it falls on these weary shoulders to rouse this slumb'ring body. No, mind, no matter! Such is the task of a fool; to shake and shout with joyous breath, even when all have fled. For I am but a Fool, a madman; ignorant of right course and manner, speaking words which lack all proper sense while dancing for my lord's own pleasure. But even if it were to a crowd of nothing, when these great halls are empty and my lord is absent, The Fool shall nimbly dance. Even if it were in the ruins I would laugh and sing the songs that filly my mind; Great Shakespeare's sonnets, the rimes of Coleridge, and even the gasps of Poe. For I am a Fool who witless talks and makes fancy of greater things than he, refusing to let this noble thread woven by fate die. The battle's lost, yea, 'twas the end many years ago, yet, there are some who dance even on the stones ground to dust by the years, making merry for a time. I am one. A great knight I once knew was another, a fool like myself, a knight of Spain, yet noble in his way, fighting battles against all manner of fantastic things, though it was in vain. Perhaps it were better to accept the death of chivalry, and noble thoughts, and make peace with the world. Sanity is a valuable currency, one no coin can replace. Or perhaps that is what makes a Fool.

    [The Fool looks around then salutes the empty throne.]

    The Fool: Farewell King! I will come again, if you call. There are too few fools in the world. All fled all done, so lift them on the pyre, that their names be bright and hot as fire!

    [The Fool bows, and exits.]

  12. 4 weeks ago
    The Dilettante

    [The dilettante enters, a stack of books bound in every imaginable way is under his arm. From amongst the assortment of textbooks, magazines and paperbacks the only commonality found is a bookmark sticking out from somewhere within first chapter of each one.]

    The Dilettante: Aye my lord, watching you weave this tangled web of characters, all decrying the fate of this accursed yet vitality imparting board has brought out from within me a desire. For you my lord, I search deep down within myself and offer up whatever scant israeliteels I can find, though knowing myself I hardly expect much. For like a great surveyor of the lands I have seen the surfaces of many things yet have never penetrated even an inch beneath their soil.

    [The dilettante pulls a small glossy paperback out from amongst his impressive stack]

    The Dilettante: First I humbly present to you my lord this great work by the natural philosopher David Epstein entitled Range, in which he sings the praises of looking hither and thither throughout our lives slowly building up a great tinder pile of knowledge which at a ripe age can be used as fuel for the creation of an impressive masterwork.

    [The dilettante pulls out a significantly wider book from amongst his stack, the once glossy cover has been reduced over time to a wrinkled skin barely containing the pages within]

    The Dilettante: I found much to admire in these five collected works of the philosopher Plato. The assortment of ways in which he depicts his teacher provoking the anger of others via examination reminded me much of some of the more exuberant members of your kingdom who wielding nothing more than the pointed question poke holes in all manner of theories regarding things as diverse as the distribution of female anatomy to the verification of a given tiktokers israeliness.

    [The dilettante pulls out a hardbound book of some considerable thickness, on the cover is an oil painting of a foolish looking aristocratic man chasing after an uninterested woman]

    The Dilettante: Many have claimed throughout history that time is nothing more than some manner of distended sphere. That man is doomed to repeat events and follies of the past forever more. No where have I seen greater proof of such a claim than in this work, The Heptameron by Marguerite de Navarre. In this tome I learned that the infamous tripartite battle fought between the "roastie", "chad" and the "incel" has in fact been blazing on for all of recorded time and that truly nothing new is under the sun.

    [The dilettante returns the books to his stack and stands up tall addressing the lord]

    The Dilettante: My lord, I can only hope that these gifts, though of limited depth have pleased you through their great variety.

    [The dilettante fricking dies!]

  13. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    i love the fool so much

  14. 4 weeks ago
    Anonymous

    ANON
    I did not hope, nor could I dare to dream
    That anything within the realms of IQfy
    Retained the board's old spirit, yet it seems
    A tiny spark, an inkling yet, endures.

    TRIPgay
    Indeed, it is a marvelous report!
    I am, in my magnificance, appeased,
    By all that has transpired in this thread.
    There is a space, a hope, a gasp of breath,
    Ere all the dying spaces of this world
    Give way upon our humble image board.

    MOD
    Aye, yes, as I on high above this place
    Do sit in judgment, like to Thund'rous Zeus
    I do enjoy the dealings that I see
    And shall this thread bump up from Page of 10
    If it should dare to topple off the board

    F. SCOTT GARDNER
    Do buy my book, please! It's on Amazon.

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