100 Posts and much, much worse…

Hey, Tirzah here. And it’s the 100th time I (*cough* or Sy…) have actually managed to dredge up some content! WHOOT! You’d think one hundred was just an obsession around this blog. It’s all entirely coincidental, I swear. There is no conspiracy. I figured I’d kind of have to do something special for my 100th post. And of course, that it should be 100-related. These are bloggerly responsibilities, and I take my bloggerly responsibilities seriously. (In the background, Sy laughs until tears prick his eyes. He can shut up, for once.) And so what I wound up doing may read as a little trite, but it’s all I could write with the restraints I imposed, and I think it turned out alright. (You’ll see what I did there.)

One hundred things were stirring in the dark and glittering night,

One hundred spells of summoning spake by a wicked sprite,

One hundred nights of life, the moon bequeathed them by its light,

One hundred eyes apiece, these had; eight feet for better sight,

One hundred spiders, slightly dead, to set mankind afright.

One hundred venomed fangs per beast, all glistening with spite:

One hundred men felled in their sleep by shadow-creature’s bite.

One hundred woke to shambling death, infected by the blight,

One hundred men so tainted swelled the fairy’s undead might.

One hundred tales of spreading woe went forth from fated site,

One hundred desperate cries for one to rise and set all right—

One hundred rose with battle-sword to heed the land’s dark plight,

One hundred steadfast steeds went forth, on each a steadfast knight,

One hundred brands in faithful hands, all blazing firey bright.

One hundred horrors met their eyes, to battle-wrath ignite.

One hundred sets of fangs turned then to mockingly invite;

One hundred swords and torches sprang to meet them in delight.

One hundred monsters reared to fire and blades in fearsome fight.

One hundred hours, the battle raged; the victory was slight,

One hundred soldiers minus many set the beasts alight,

One hundred screaming monsters died in ill-attempted flight.

One hundred bitten humans by this rout were turned aright!

One hundred minions felled, the necromancer fey turned white.

One hundred pairs of vengeful hands then sealed his sentence—





  1. Creepy spider zombies, noooooooooo! DX
    Well done on working within the self-imposed poetic restraints, though. *applause* And CONGRATS on your 100th post!

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