Okay, so I didn't know whether to use the bruised or the sleepy emoticon. I'm not all that fussed at the moment, because I've been overwhelmed by a wave of apathy for the past few days. Still, got to carry on, haven't we?

Right, the story starts on Sunday, when my mum practically begged me to attend my brother's wedding, as my cousin had no-one to go with. Being a sucker for a damsel in distress, I agreed, mostly because mum was really upset by having to ask me. She has known for years that my brother and I don't see eye to eye (something to do with him being 6'5 and me being only 6', no doubt) and that the only way on earth I was planning to attend the wedding was if I'd managed to acquire a girlfriend in time, since she'd be there for me.

The time was booked off work with no trouble, I was ready as I would ever be, so I went to play cricket. After sustaining serious bruising to my left instep, which left me incapable of walking on Sunday and produced a limp for the wedding, I was not in the best frame of mind.

As one of my cousins pointed out later in the day, I had the best looking date. It wasn't difficult, as most of the bride's family were loud mouthed heffers, who seemed more bothered about getting their breasts into the wedding photos than their faces. Time and place, girls - this was neither.

After going through the happy clappy ceremony, with lots of standing and sitting, causing discomfort, we finally got out of the church. This did not make things any better, as the sun was high in the sky. What a stupid time to have a service, when you'll come out of church at noon in the middile of July. Granted, the weather for the past 4 weeks has been awful, but now it was a fucking oven. Being threatened by various people that they will drag me over to the wedding photos by my tie if necessary did nothing to help my mood. I plugged in my iPod and turned up the volume on a little Metallica (very calming music, I find)

The call came up from the Best Man "Groom's Brother!" and everyone started waving at me. I stood there impassively, waving him away. Pushed and shoved to the front of the pack, I clung to one thing that for a split second saved me and allowed my petulance to shine straight through. "He won't come" says my mum, when I'm standing all of 20 feet from the scene of the crime. I turned and walked off, with as much dignity as a man with a limp can.

Yes, for a few seconds, I felt rage, bitterness and twisted feelings of hatred towards everyone there for making a scene. I found a large tree to stand beneath, grateful for the cool breeze and the chance for my brain to get a hold of the situation. I have too much pride to apologise to my brother, or the baby machine that he's married, (if they have any more, they need not worry about me ever again, I think I'll be in prison for a long while :P) but I felt awful for letting my mum down.

Still, rage being what it is, I probably would have walked home, had my foot been alright, so I guess I was shackled by the cricket.

Texts to friends for support later, I get a stony look from mum as she approached the car. I get in, along with her, dad and mum's best friend, who was also present. We headed back to the town centre, to a "lovely little restaurant" that I have been aware of for many years, but had never had the (dis)pleasure of being inside. With broken air conditioning, it must have been 10 degrees warmer in there than outside. Trying my best not to fall asleep, I drank sparingly and tried not to scowl too much. Fortunately, the bride had chosen to sit me with my back to her, so at least I could keep my lunch down... when it finally arrived. 6 tables of guests, 68 guests (or thereabouts) and 2.5 hours to serve / eat a three course meal. I was tempted to get up and walk to McDonalds, because it would have been quicker.

Speech time came and I thought the damned thing was never going to end. The bride's father kept his mercifully short, before handing over to Phil, who proceeded to read out a list of bullet points as his speech. The quiet one in the family, apparently. Give him a soap box and now we all wish that he'd just shut up. When he finally shut up, our cousin stood to deliver his speech. Effective, funny, well delivered - thanks. Then we prepared to leave, but had to stand around waiting for a lot longer, as no-one seemed inclined to move in this heat. I was at the end of my tether and ready to start cracking skulls, as the table next to us had some of the worst parenting I have ever seen on display. However, cracking the parent's skulls doesn't set a good example to the kids, so I refrained.

Stood around in the car park for 10-15 minutes waiting for everyone to pile out and then having to find the dummy for my nephew, who was coming back. My quip was remarkably close to the location, having stated that "his father's in the reception, where we left him!" The dummy was in his pocket, despite the fact that I'd asked if we had this particular item in the equipment, when we left. Tie gone, jacket to follow, we then had to chase down my cousin, to give her a birthday present for her three year old, as he turned 3 on the 24th of July. She had failed to escape the town, let alone make it to the motorway and have a break to Cornwall, so all was well there.

Respite was glorious. A change of clothes out of the suit, half tempted to jump in the shower, but settling for a cup of tea and a slob about in a pair of shorts was easier. I was tempted to call it quits there, but felt obliged to attend the evening do. Why, I do not know. It just happened. Of course, this morning, I wish I had not gone, the day was already a fucking farce, why not try to salvage some time for me, so that I can get away from all of this? Oh, that might be it, I've not spoken to the bride or groom so far. As I type this, I have still heard nothing from either of them, ungrateful fucks. "Oh, but she has a bad back." Stated my mum, as we drove home, at about 10. "So? Her husband is not joined to her at the hip and both of them have my mobile number. They thanked everyone else in the speech, I was getting towards actually expecting one myself!"

The single worst part of the evening was when my cousin (the best man, not my date) started coming on to me. He was being really agressive about it and no, I'm not doing it in a sexual way, when men get to see my dick. It's a necessary evil that comes from getting changed in a communal changing room.

I'm still in a mood this morning and I hope it passes. Not sure it will, when I consider how much of a pain both my brother and his other half have been since we've known her to be honest. I won't be inviting them to my wedding, that's for sure.

In fact, strike that. There is one woman on the face of the planet, who can change my mind about all of this. She is the girl that I will marry and yes, I would make a sacrifice for her. After all, if I'm willing to pledge myself to her for the rest of my days, then she is worth bearing a little burden for.

I just hope that I find her soon.

Well, it appears that the British summer is progressing smoothly and we're not a matter of inches from the River Severn bursting its banks in the middle of fucking July. I'm seriously starting to consider that the country is going to get washed away in a matter of months, so as a result must make some contingency plans.

Assuming that the UK is going to wash away, we need to find somewhere to go. Obvious suggestions would be mainland Europe, but not everyone there speaks English, so taking possession of France might not be an option. Plus, they've not heard of Scotch there, so I might not get along well, having to live off red wine.

The US is decent, though a lack of NHS does put a dampener on things, unless I become a very comfortable earner. I'm not that into city living, if I'm honest, either.

New Zealand and Australia have a massive advantage of the Cricket and Rugby, plus the chance to rub it in about various Ashes victories of late... if the UK has washed away, the prospect of home matches could be interesting, though. I'm not that much of a fan of the prospect of barbecued shrimp for Xmas dinner, with shorts and T-Shirt on. Xmas is supposed to be white.

In all seriousness, I'd probably go back to Canada. They speak English, I get a fix of ice hockey and baseball, the accent isn't as harsh as certain American local dialects, some of them know what rugby is and I have fond memories from my childhood - that's what life is all aboot.

So, if we sink, where are you off to, fellow Englishmen (or other UK residents). What about you, from other countries?

Well, the cricket season is well underway and I've done a bit of everything - bowled a few overs, took some wickets, scored a few runs and there's even a catch in there, when I played the field. This weekend marks the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II of England, Great Britan and various other former colonies abroad. That's less important, as it also marks my debut as the Sunday XI captain for my local team, Cookley CC.

I've scraped together a side and hopefully we'll be able to get 11 able bodied soldiers out there, to have a whack at the opposition, subject to weather conditions. I've also turned up at the league meeting and had to pay £173 for registration and 10 match balls. Now I'm no economist, but I think that's a little steep. Still, not to rock the boat, just pay the man, collect your balls and move on. Hopefully we'll save some and be able to use them for next year, who knows?

Right, here's a pic of the balls, which I now have to keep clean and undamaged for the next few months. I can only really finger four balls per hand, so that leaves two hard, spare, shiny red balls in the box, just in case. Okay, my puns aren't as funny as those on Futurama.

70 Days
8,000 Runners
8,000 Miles

Today was day six of the Olympic Torch Relay for the London 2012 games. I can't be there, as I'm not a good enough athlete and too big of a prick to be offered the chance to actually bear the torch, itself. But I was one of the many thousands of people taking to the streets today, to watch the Olympic flame get carried on its journey.

At about quarter past three, we went to see how big the crowd had got - suffice to say, it was an impressive sight, so see the main street of this usually peaceful town (except Friday nights) completely dominated by pedestrians. A few officials in high-vis jackets struggled valiantly to get the crowds away from the middle of the road, so that the procession could head through. Various vehicles made their way out through the throng and cheers went up for wide ranging reasons.

Some nice young ladies did well to get us hyped up as a blue open topped Samsung bus headed through, as I remarked, "Here comes Chelsea with the Champions League Trophy". A few more sponsors vehicles later and I was asking a Lloyds TSB bus to "Throw us some money" in this time of austerity.

A little later, we ended up with a wagon, loaded with police bikes, so the local pikeys have been working hard, to steal what they can, clearly. Finally, the crowds got worked up into a sunburnt frenzy, as 12 year old Samuel Loveitt carried the torch past. This young fellow is apparently a future paralympic star, having lost both legs and his left hand to Meningitis in 2006. The crafty little lad nearly snuck past me, but I'll have a look at the pictures later and see if I got anything worthwhile out of it.

Afterwards, I managed to cross the bridge (unheard of during work hours) and watch as the flame made its way toward the Severn Valley Rail Station, for a vintage steam journey to my home town on Kidderminster. I won't see that flame again until the opening ceremony, but to know that it was within just over touching distance (and the reach of some rather burly looking SAS men), I'm quite proud to be English. Yes, I know it's team GB, but you've got to let the Welsh, Scots and Northern Irish win something, haven't you?

Here's a pic of some lovely young ladies jumping about on the bus, while one gets rather hoarse from shouting at us lot all day. I think I've got some cream for that, somewhere, love.

Wow, what a year. Things are looking up for me, not just relating to statistics, but enough about that. So, before the milk that I've just poured on these numbers makes them go soggy, let's crunch them!

Experience:
2012 Target : 29,190
Current : 29,180

I'VE MISSED A DEPOSIT >:(

Right, that small outburst over, I have to acknowledge that I have missed a deposit, when the redesign was launched. I needed to sleep and I missed it by about an hour or two. I should have gone to bed early and grabbed it at around half 4 in the morning. Other than that, I could have given someone else the password and told them to do it for me, like Bahamut.

Target for next year will be 32,830

Experience Rank:
2012 Target : Top 90
Current : 98th (Tied with Evark for 97th)

Well, I can't really comment much on getting close to the target. I'd guess that the top 90 will be a reasonable target for next year, too...

Level
2012 Target : Level 52
Current : Level 52

Missing a deposit never really affects this one, not when it's 1 deposit in 6 years. Mind you, I'll still be setting the bar at perfect for 2012 / 13, so the level target is 55

Blams
2012 Target: 30,000
Current : 29,545

I set the bar at 30,000 - yes, a Supreme COmmander in Blams alone, but failed to get there, by 455 Blams. Harsh, but that's how life is.

I'll try for 32,000 Blams this year, see if I can focus on them and get there. I'm not sure, but hope springs eternal.

Saves
2012 Target : 87,000
Current : 74,687

I must have typoed this one. I can't be 13,000 off the pace, surely. That figures with the totals I've set for total B/P. I'll say that I was less than 3k off the pace.

For next year, I think that I can manage to get to 86,000 Saves, that should be a resonable goal.

Total B/P
2012 Target : 107,000 B/P
Current: 104,232

Okay, so the pace has dropped slightly. I'm not that bothered, I've done enough here to take a break :P

I guess that I'll put the bar at 118,000 for the year.

B/P Rank
2012 Target: Top 10
Current : 10th

I made it! No resting on my laurels here - I'm gunning for 9th now, so that will be the only place I can make up over the year

Posts
2012 Target 25,000
Current: 23,382

Yeah, not been posting quite as much as I used to, but I'll still keep it up. Let's see if I can get 26,000 By the next year's end.

Game / Movie Reviews
2012 Target : 2,350
Current: 2,082

Yeah, not been a strong point for me this time. I'll aim for 2,200 and see if I can get a small taget this time.

Movie / Game Responses
2012 Target : 1,400
Current : 1,277

Slightly off the pace, but if you're not writing them, then you won't get responses. Hopefully, I can manage to get 1,500 by year's end.

Audio Reviews
2012 Target : 1,100
Current : 1,187

I beat this target, but I had no idea what to gun for. I'll try 1,300 This year and see how we go.

Art Reviews
2012 Target : 500
Current : 375

Yeah, didn't get the volume of RRC requests that could have helped me. I'll stick to that for the year and see how we go.

Total Points
2012 Target : 165,000
Current : 160,438

Slightly off, but if my output has dropped, then so must the targets. I'm going for 20k this year and we'll see how it goes.

Until next year, my friends, keep statting!

Well, tonight, I've got my exam to be an accredited ECB ACO (England and Wales Cricket Board Association of Cricket Officials) Level 1 scorer. It involves lots of tedious paperwork, so I should be right at home with that.

I know that I have to try and avoid the sense of panic buying that seems to be gripping the nation after David Cameron suggested that we keep our tanks topped up. I do that, but only when the tank has run all but dry, so it's awkward tonight to try and do that, before heading off to Worcester for the exam itself.

Just over 3 weeks to go until I take a bow as the Sunday XI captain as well. I hope it goes well, or this could be a horrible year, as far as the cricket goes.

***UPDATE***

I have received confirmation that I passed the exam and am now a Level 1 scorer :D The pass mark was 80/100 - I got 80.25, but they all count.

So on Tuesday, it will be one year to the day since I split with Bex. That was a sad occasion and I was pretty down when it all happened in the first place, though I've come to terms with it and have been living the single life properly for a good six months now, having spent the first 3-6 months getting over 4 1/2 years of relationship. I may have different views of myself now, compared to back then, but it's in the past and I won't sort anything out by beating myself up over things I could, should and possibly would have done years ago. What's happened has already happened and I won't make the same mistakes twice, let's leave it at that.

Cricket training recommenced on Sunday last week (I can now walk, just barely), after 2.5 hours of practice representing the first in nearly six months, we all felt in pretty good nick. During the discussions there (I'm now the club secretary and Sunday XI captain), I ascertained that a friend of one of my teammates is single and looking for love.

Having grabbed a picture of me in a less than savoury pose (completely drenched in sweat, puffing and panting, having just been in for a bat), I was given the official diagnosis that she thinks I'm cute. This is novel and while my ego always needs a boost, I still found it weird. Not to worry, I've seen a picture of her and so an evening of drinks, curry and chat has been planned. I'm heading out in about half an hour and nervous may well be a good description of me, right now, but we'll see how things go.

My plan is to expect nothing and that way, anything positive I get is a bonus.

Wish me luck.

I've been taken in by something all together incredible. SwedeMason has created a masterpiece - something useful coming from the mouth of Jeremy Clarkson:

That wasn't the first one I found. I was enticed by the offering of a Buttery Biscuit Bass:

And for those of you Americans, who feel that neither of them can be related to, here's President Obama (Mr. Long Legged MacDaddy, if you prefer) swatting a fly:

What a wonderful artist this person is.

If you have a care, please read my latest literary work, Blammer 29

**********

Ah, the joy of stiff legs. Well, considering just how far I've walked, there's no wonder that I'm getting complaints from south of my knees this morning.

Friday 20th January

Generally, beginnings are the best of places to start, so when I left home at about 9am, the idea that hardly anyone knew I was going to be there was fantastic. A delightfully evil smirk crept across my face as I walked down into town and back up the hill on the other side to the station.

Assassin's Creed : Renaissance was the reading material of choice for this journey and the return, so I set to on that, while making the trip through to Birmingham and on National Express to Manchester. I wasn't too happy that the weather conditions on the M6 were a portent of doom for the next few hours. Having enjoyed a good read, I disembarked and began my route to the Premier Inn, successfully getting lost and starting to walk towards Preston (Don't ask!) Stopping to tie my shoelaces for what seemed like the hundredth time, I glanced behind, probably at some girl, I saw a looming building and the sign "Premier Inn". Not happy with my timing and sense of direction, I doubled back and sent Luis an urgent Text, to say I'd be there in about 10 minutes (I wished!)

About 20-25 minutes later, a drowned rat appears at the door and is greeted / jeered at by the assembled members - Luis, Ragnarokia, Kes, Dean, Grant, Keith, Kieran and a few others, whom I have forgotten, though not intentionally. I was given the key and headed up to get dry / dump some gear.

A change of clothes later and having attacked my sodden shoes with the hair dryer, I headed downstairs, to meet up with everyone... but they had all left. Sitting down in the dry, I asked Luis for directions and Tom (TDK1987) joined me. After some messing around with directions, Tom told me that it was an eight minute walk from the Premier Inn. Only it turned out to be an eight minute drive, so we walked for about half an hour in the rain.

The drowned rats numbering two entered the Kyoto Lounge and the gaming began in earnest. Settlers of Catan was the game to start with, as Kes has brought this old chestnut with him once more. Ben (Wonchop) showed up and produced Jungle Speed, though that didn't get played so soon. Having beaten Tom, Kez and Keith at Catan, I was starting to dry out, so all was good. Then we moved to the Odder Bar, where food was procured.

When I think about the number of times that I've been to London and the surrounding territories and I've never had pie and mash, it seemed strange that I had the Chicken and Mushroom Pie, with mash from this place... Odd, even. Yes, I was punished for puns of this magnitude for the whole event, you will be no doubt pleased to know.

Luis moved his flock of children on towards a Karaoke bar, which was small, but quite serviceable, as we piled the coats under the table in the corner and took up the customary position around the bibles, making our selections. Some of the locals and the Newgrounders were particularly impressed with my rendition of Tribute, by Tenacious D, plus getting involved in a few too many Oasis songs makes me glad I didn't try to pick anything by Blur, since they hate one another and the locals seemed to have already drawn a very thick black line on that subject.

Then the worst part happened - the little blonde woman, who seemed to try and grope every one of the Newgrounders, while yelling something in their ears tried her luck with me. Hey love, I'm not that desperate, nor am I blind drunk. Winston Churchill springs to mind "You're drunk!" says a woman to him "And you madam, are ugly, but in the morning I shall be sober, while you will still be ugly!" I forget exactly what she shouted to me, though it was interspersed with ear-splitting fucks and other local pleasantries. I'm sure that not all of the women of Manchester are this bad, though.

This diminutive bimbo then raided our coats and tried to wander off with three of them. We managed to recover them, fortunately and my coat was safe from her clutches. *sigh* Finally bored of this venue, we tried a few more venues, which we were turned away from, before heading into the Bay Horse. The bouncer paid me a backhanded compliment "In you go mate, you're older than me!" Thanks...

A nice quiet whiskey later and part of the group (Andy, Keiran, Dean, Grant and others) made our way back to the Premier Inn. Dean played chicken with a taxi, showing us how street savvy he was. The joy of sharing a room with one of the quietest Scotsmen I've ever met is something that I'll remember for a long while. I owe you a (non alcoholic) drink for that, Dean, if only to say thanks.

Saturday

The next morning, I was awoken by roadworks, of all things. Just what you want first thing in a morning, when you've had a late one. My colleague's mantra of "It's not a road trip if you don't eat crap!" surfaced in my brain, so breakfast was supplied by Greggs. Early morning sausage rolls are always good, so I filled up on them and discussed moderating with a few of the guys, while messing about with my laptop. We adjourned with the gang to the Kyoto Lounge again, for the main event. The walk across town was much easier this time, as we took a route that was more direct, there was no rain and we all arrived together.

The guys at Kyoto Lounge were overjoyed to see us and starting on the drinks, we sorted out a PS3, XBOX and a bank of five PCs for the gaming pleasure. I took some nasty beatings on Halo Reach, before chatting to a few people around the bar and catching up with the likes of Bez for a spot of beard on beard action. This also led to me spending some time with Liam (DumbassDude) and the occasional knowing comment directed to or from LegolaSS. Yes, I did steal your computer, when you went to the bar. You snooze, you lose.

Nintendisco were in town for their first appearance in Manchester, yet they made quite an impression, the spoils falling to Oliver for his antics with Street Fighter, as I stepped up eventually to play Super Mario Kart - a game that I've not played since my University days and the discerning eyes of the crowd caught me steering the Wii controller for the first race, though I still won. 3 wins and 2 losses on the evening, after I was ousted by a professional ninja, who seemed to own every track he'd raced on, so I wasn't that disappointed to have lost.

More booze followed and Luis summoned me to the bar for a Whiskey. Having exhaused the supply of oranges from the bar, he was unable to enjoy his usual tipple of a traditional bourbon, so he had a double Johnny Walker Black, while I was treated to another double Glenfiddich straight. Luis seemed confused that I wanted to take the single malt straight, but you can't dilute it with that much water. Maybe if I'd got those whiskey rocks, that you can freeze, I'd be happier. No matter, it was good scotch.

We formed the Epic bus, with myself, Andy, Keith, Keiran, Ragnarokia, Kez, Tom, Ben and a few others, if I remember correctly (I'm writing this less than 24 hours later, how fucked was I?) and we staggered to Dominoes, before heading back to base. Keith was surprised to learn that I'm an RPGer, having been a veteran of D&D and other such games for over half of my life now. We talked somewhat of these games on our way back, occasionally getting diverted by the discussion of Metal, as Bahmut's attempts to evade Ragnarokia became a little more desparate. After the discussion petered out at the end of the night, a now more enlightened Keith was allowed to retire and I stumbled a whole 5 yards back to my own abode, trying (and failing) to let Dean sleep. More reading in the middle of the night, while drunk. I'm glad that I already know the plot of this book, otherwise I might have missed something.

Sunday

I woke early, to the sounds of the Cathedral bells, this time. Bastards. I surfaced and managed to get about half an hour of internet time in before Dean was roused by his alarm, so my ninja skills are pretty good... or he was out of it, because I nearly broke my foot on the bathroom door, so that wasn't that good.

I joined Keith and Andy for breakfast, filling up on the good stuff, before preparing for the journey home. Six of us left the hotel at about 12 - Andy, Keith, Ben, Dean and Ragnarokia had all surfaced. Heading to the Arndale Centre, Rag headed off in the direction of Luis, while a few moments later, Ben made off for some food. That left four of us to try and find the coach station, with about 40 minutes to go until departure. A little ambling and a lot of faff later, we arrived at the coach station, where Keith rewarded his endeavours with a mocha. Finally, my meet was at an end, so goodbyes were said to the last of them, before a flurry of text messages to those whose numbers I had stolen / acquired over the course of this meet and others, wishing them all well, as I boarded the coach to Birmingham.

If I thought that home looked bad, passing through Stoke, to the Hanley bus station was a wake up call - the most run down area that I'd seen with my own eyes, I refused to get off the coach and decided to stretch my legs - they would get plenty of a stretching later. The driver couldn't get out of there quick enough, but apologies to the good people of Stoke, it probably isn't all that bad...

The Birmingham skyline loomed out of the book, as I recognised Spaghetti Junction and the wonder that is Villa Park. I knew that I was home, so the train wasn't far off. The driver reported that we had arrived 20 minutes earlier, despite the 15 minute wait in Hanley, so all was good. I walked the half mile back to the station, to be told at half three that the next train to get me home was quarter past 4. More book, procrastination and indecision as to what to write here. One packed train later and I was on the last leg of my journey - the few miles across town to finish the job.

Now I've had a day back in the office, I'm glad to be home, glad that I didn't miss it and especially glad to have made more friends, as well as reacquainted myself with some old friends, which is always nice. Newgrounds meets need more girls, prefferably good looking single ones, but if that's the only complaint, then I should raise a glass to you all for coming to keep me occupied :D

Coop Out.

In the twilight, the first spots of rain started to drop across the landscape. Coop watches as the seething mass of corruption seemed to spread like a wine stain across the valley below him. The mindless chaotic ensemble moved forward, but without too much purpose, allowing the veteran soldier to pick his moments.

Wetting his throat from a water skin at his side, Coop breathed into his hands, to encourage some warmth. Crouching not too far from his sword and shield, he waited patiently, as the sunlight faded further still.

The hive had found the corpses of the scouts that had been dispatched earlier, but they seemed puzzled as to the location of the killer, or the method of the kill. Sensing an advantage, Coop flexed the bow, sending a shaft of golden light into the middle of the mass, summoning down a thunderbolt, which split the sky, with calamitous force. The scream of the damned was incredibly harrowing, as limbs and singed entrails flew across the field, dividing the survivors in panic. They scattered and moved away from the explosion, some shambling, unable to control enough of their legs, others using them to great advantage. Coop watched from his hiding place and casually unleashed a few more shots, to prevent any of these from discovering his hiding place, just yet.

For hour upon hour, Coop visited his collected fury upon these creatures. Every one that seemed to fall had a new, equally hideous monster to take its place. From all of the drawing of the bow, Coop's shoulder ached, although the rain did help, by cooling the muscles a little. He prayed that Dawn Chaser had managed to arrive at the local town, to stir some sort of reaction from those stationed there.

A subtle change seemed to occur in the ranks of the damned and broken. Something bellowed out incomprehensible commands, far from the view of the lone sniper and to his surprise, the creatures started to gather back up. This mass was different, as it seemed organised, rather than a writing mass of indirect hatred - this one was being focused on the rocky outcrop, just beyond a stream, where Coop was firing from.

Noting the advance had begun, he started to open fire more freely now, in a vain attempt to scatter the forces that were approaching. Crashes of thunder rang out as the lightning bolts hit home, causing explosions to rip through the twisted bodies that manoeuvred toward his position.

I don't want to die, but it's a hell of a way to go, you've got to admit it, thought Coop, as he blocked out the pain and sent another arrow sailing into the rain. The thunderbolt that accompanied the arrow was by now music to his ears as the faster of the creatures crossed the stream. Damn, this is the end and there's no-one to see it. The wailing screech of a bloated representation of Barak Obama, dressed in a very poorly fitting basketball vest told Coop all that he needed to know and he dropped the bow, taking up the sword and shield, to make his last stand.

The thing wound a huge tree-trunk sized arm back and threw a basketball shaped rock at the knight, who barely managed to parry it to one side. Quickly sliding down the rain slickened incline, he drove his sword into the side of the creature, before scrambling back up out of harm's way. He had chosen his position well and creatures as big as this one, should find the going difficult

Was that a horn in the distance? He thought, as a jagged edged stick figure raced up to him and was promptly cut to pixels, with a deft swoop of the blade. The artillery, a selection of poorly made choco break clones unloaded a salvo of balls from across the stream and Coop ducked and weaved among them, allowing them to thin out some of the numbers for his opponents. Grasping the rock formation, the obese basketball playing President clawed its way up towards Coop and swung wildly at him. He dropped and rolled on his shoulder, underneath the sweeping arm, before kicking out and planting a foot on the repulsive flab of this monstrosity, which wobbled ominously.

Reaching out, he managed to grab the sword, but knocked his new shield over in the process. Unable to grab the shield, Coop drew the polished blade from the earth and slashed mercilessly at his foe, which bellowed in pain and fury. The beast swung a tree trunk like arm and caught Coop in the midriff, knocking him into the undergrowth, where the ground broke his fall, knocking the wind out of him. Looking around a short while, the creature disengaged its jaw and bellowed a challenging guttural roar.

Slightly stunned by his impromptu flying lesson, Coop tried to pull himself together. Rolling quickly to his side, he gathered his sword, his breathing quick and shallow, as he tried to put the pain in his gut from his mind. He struggled back through the undergrowth, as the creature spotted the knight once more and lumbered in his direction.

That was a horn, I'm sure of it! Coop's mind raced as he stumbled groggily out of the undergrowth, barely dodging another blow from the bulky arm of this behemoth. Has it gained weight? His brain queried to him, as he swung without malice at the arm, barely marking the flesh. Losing his footing again, he slipped down the slope, into the open, where other creatures could see him.

The rain intensified and in the distance, a bolt of lightning split the heavens, twisting the twilight sky into a whirlpool of purple and white. The force of the explosion sent malformed creatures flying through the air, depositing them some distance away to act as fertiliser. Through the dark vortex, more of the creatures started to pour forth, to reinforce their master.

Hearing the horns once more, Coop shook himself as alert as he could, then charged at the beast. Surprised by its speed, as it sidestepped his lunge, he continued up the path, back to the summit. He grasped his shield and stopped for a brief moment to consider the big picture of the field.

The hoard of creatures had reached a ford and was being slowed as they made their way across. Some of the more enthusiastic ones tried to cross the river at deeper patches and were swept away, cast over a nearby waterfall, to whatever fate awaited below. Unnoticed by the crush of bodies, a unit of riders advanced upon them at a canter, slowly dropping lance-tips and increasing their pace to a gallop, churning up the mud beneath their hooves. One of the horses, a rider less mount peeled away from the triangle formation and made for the river, leaping as far as she could and landing with a splash, before continuing to swim across.

The knights hit the writing mass of bodies and drove a wedge through them, mercilessly spearing freshly made corpses on their lance tips and flicking them aside with contempt, while others were trampled beneath hooves. Coop grabbed his shield from the floor and hastily buckled the strapping to his forearm, as the massacre began. From the variety of weapons and the disciplined fighting style, there was only one force it could be and his concerns lay just down the slope, where the rumbling brute was sure to make itself known from momentarily.

Allowing himself a brief moment to recapture his breath, Coop descended the slope and a flash of lightning illuminated the snarling, bloated face. The knight ran to his left, heading for the riverbank and the chase was on. He ran his tongue over dry lips and let out a short, piercing whistle as he sprinted, trying to stay ahead of the monster.

The horse had struggled free of the river by now and her ears pricked at the sound of the whistle. She looked through the gloom, to see Coop running along the bank towards her. The sizeable bulk following him posed a problem, but one that Dawn Chaser could assist with. Charging past Coop, she galloped close enough to the beast, drawing its ire and past it, playing hard to get, as it followed her, back towards the natural fortification. Coop continued to run and when she was satisfied that she had done enough, the mare made a break for her companion. Coop perched himself in the saddle and wheeled his steed around for one more charge.

"Draw him to the ford, Chaser. We'll take him there." The pair galloped around the bulk in a wide arc, the mud washing from Dawn Chaser's fetlocks again, as they entered the shallows, toward the killing fields. Raising his sword high and bellowing a challenge, Coop stood high in the stirrups and joined the fray, cutting down the faltering advance, which had been decimated by the cavalry.

Rain streaming down his face, mixed with sweat and blood, Coop turned to behold the creature once more, as it bore down on them. All the while, Dawn chaser sidestepped incoming attacks and her hooves wore more of the numbers down. It roared defiance and rumbled forward, intent on striking Coop with the full force of its fury. Coop ducked the first swing, a back-handed slash gouging more from the arm of the increasingly agitated beast. Some of the cavalry wheeled their mounts around from the mindless slaughter and came to the Knight's aid, adding their blades to his cause. An axe planted in the back of it from another and for the first time, the creature began struggling.

It brought the pair of fists down together overhead and Dawn Chaser only barely managed to step aside as a crash of water, stone and mud rose up where the fists fell. The battle had turned on the presence of the mounted reinforcement.

In Coop's fortified hill, one of the riders stepped down from his horse and took up a discarded bow of gold. He drew back the string and saw an arrow form itself within his grasp. Pointing it toward the sizeable target, he loosed a shot, which resonated across the valley, a crackling noise accompanying the bolt flying through the air and exploding through the chest of the parody of Obama, silencing it for good. Slowly, it toppled sideways into the river, lifeless.

"You must be getting old, Coop. Normally, you wouldn't request assistance, you'd do something stupid and nearly wind up dead." A dark haired woman rode close to the knight and playfully chastised him.

"And if I did that all the time, you'd never get any sport. Come on, admit it - your life needs more excitement in it!" They rode off a short way from the fields, picking off stragglers and awaiting the squires, who had made the journey out here a lot slower, due to their loads. All were fed and watered, with the mounts cared for lovingly and tales shared around a massive open fire, now that the beast lay dead. Knights old and new shared the field with mercenaries, Auz, reverend, BlueHippo and Kirk-Cocaine all mingled with concerned citizens, such as Gagsy, gamejunkie, Haggard, LittleWashu and Little-Rena. The day was won.

"Gagsy, tell me - who is that man standing there? He shot the beast with an arrow didn't he?"

"Yes, that's DrJam. He reminds me of you, just a lot less talkative."

"How does he remind you of me?"

"Well, he's a pain in the arse as well."

"Thanks. I never knew you cared." Upon hearing this, the aforementioned DrJam approached the knight. He was still clutching the bow.

"A very nice weapon, Sir Coop. I was wondering, how you came by it?"

"I was given it, by forces beyond my control."

"Astounding." The young man paused, something on his mind. "If I were to ask you for a price for it..?" His voice trailed off, as Coop stood up.

"This bow saved my life more than a few times, as did the man wielding it. I think that's a fair price for it. From one craftsman to another, take it with my blessing."

"Truly, I am blessed."

"We all are - that's why we fight for a free Newgrounds, correct?"

"Yes, but..." As DrJam started to question Coop, the knight raised a cup of wine to the gathered free men and women.

"For Newgrounds!" The toast was taken up and all was well.

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