The Great Chase - Where it all starts

Chapter 1

Not far away flows a little river called the River Noes, it is a beautiful chalk stream teaming with brown and rainbow trout, it has reed lined banks where kingfishers and voles make their home, and is also home to many beautiful insects. Generally it is an idyllic river in every way. On its long journey it flows through many small towns and villages; cutting its way through green rolling hills, under bridges and over viaducts; one of the villages it passes through is called Wort, it passes under an old wooden hump-back bridge and runs alongside one of the roads by the village green. There are 3 roads into Wort and they all meet at the green in the middle of the village, each road forming one side of the triangle. The green is at the heart of the Wort where in the summer the locals play a game not unlike cricket, there is a pub on the green called The Curious Turnip where many of the townsfolk can be found on late summers evenings enjoying good food and drink as well as good company and in the winter months they gather for food festivals and other events. It has a wide variety of people and personalities, beliefs, trades and interests, a monastery, schools, various farms and establishments offering a range of produce and services, much like any village really. There is only one thing that spoils this lovely setting, and if you look at any map or read the road signs then it's plain for all to see. One person who is seeing it plainly is the thatcher from the next village, he is redoing the roof of the school this week and has just passed the road sign that reads "Welcome to Wort-on-the-Nose".
The thatcher utters something under his breath as he passes the sign.
"Such a shame". 
Which is actually right because because both the village and the river really are quite pretty.   

Where there are villages, there are also towns and cities not too far away, in this instance the City is 30 miles away and is a very different place, large, advanced, bustling and noisy, not many of the village folk care to go there, unless there is a good reason. Each year the City hosts a superb race, called The Continental Chase. It's a race in three stages, air, land and sea and all the local towns and villages are allowed to enter, the only rule is that they must all use the same engine, made at the University in the city. How the engines are powered is up to the contestants themselves and this is where the locals can really shine.   

At this precise moment most, if not all of the towns people are situated on the green near the pub, some are standing up, some are sitting down, others are surrounded by empty bottles and cannot get up; they first have to figure out which way up, actually is. Surrounding the pub is a waist high stone wall, there are a few benches along the wall and the Mayor is currently standing on one of then, his name is Barnabus Pastie. He is a rather portly man with rosy cheeks, a large nose and a small straggling of hair gripping onto his head for all its worth. Around his neck is large gold chain on which hangs a gold seal of office, on it is written “Mayor”, what the Mayor has not notice is that somebody has written in small letters “aged 6” just next to it. He is holding a large piece of parchment out in front of him and is reading to the gathered crowd. Behind him is a large wooden pole, a bit like a telegraph pole, its about ten feet high and has an amazingly carved wooden box on the top. Each side if the box has a glass panel and inside can be seen a silver trophy, its very old and tarnished and even seems to have a few dents. No doubt from where it had been held up in victory and then dropped. The trophy is sitting on a black base, attached to the base is a silver plate with the names of past winners of the local race etched into it. The man reading from the parchment is nearly finished and the crowd is getting very restless.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and children of all ages, let me close this open meeting with an announcement, this is the time of our great race. A race that brings families together and strengthens the bonds within our town. Make no mistake, this is a glorious event. But this year sees something very special, three of the fastest teams will be eligible to enter the Continental Chase, the most amazing race that, should we win, would put our town of Wort well and truly on the map and bring fame and fortune to the winners”.
 
The crowd whoop and cheer at the mention of the great new prise, the mayor lets the crowd settle down with this piece of news, then he continues.

”But that’s not all, we have the new engines made at the City University, great gleaming engines, the fastest yet so I'm told, the latest in hidden technology donated to us by the Arch-Dean himself. All participants will have the same engines thus ensuring, a fair contest”.

More cheers and whoops from the crowd, followed by the inevitable questions.

“Do we have to pay for the engines?”

“When do we get them?”

“Are you really only six years old?”

The Mayor quickly scans the crowd in front of him looking to see who asked the last question, mainly so he could ask why the question was asked in the first place, he let it drop.

“And now without further ado, I declare the annual Great Race open.”

The crowed lets up another huge cheer, starts clapping, and then they all run away. The Mayor looks at his assistant.

“I've never seen them so enthusiastic Saunders, tell me, do we have our engine”?

Saunders is a  weasel of a man, taller than the mayor, sometimes, very thin with an eagle nose, a small goatee beard and he has a bald patch in the shape of a small dog, in the middle of some unruly ginger hair. He is wearing an ill fitting brown suit and walks with a stoop (today is a "not taller than the Mayor" day), altogether not a very attractive man.

“Oh certainly, it arrived yesterday, Thomas and Hardy are already looking for something to power it.”

“Do they have any ideas about what they are going to use”? Asked the Mayor.

“I don't think so, but I did see Thomas looking through some bins, I think he has an idea of what he's looking for.” 

The Mayor visibly recoils.

“Bins, looking in bins, I’ll not have my craft powered by…oh my word what on earth could he be thinking of? Tell me he was looking in the bins out side the flower sellers shop.”

Saunders just shrugs, the Mayor throws his hands up in the air and turns away. 

“I think he has been looking into all the bins your lordship.”

The Mayor quickly turns round to face Saunders, who stoops even lower, there is a loud crack as he puts his back out. He keeps his stooped position, he dare not move as the Mayor walks over too him.

"We will not have a rubbish powered engine, we need to show the village, no the city, that we are just as inventive as they are."

Saunders's back is giving him real problems and he is suffering from a very high quality form of back pain, beads of sweat are forming on his reddening face, he tries to nod in agreement with the mayor, this send a bolt of pain down his leg and he whimpers slightly.

“And for goodness sake man, stand up straight”.

The Mayor then puts one hand on the mans chest and another at the base of his spine and levers Saunders' back into an upright position, this results is yet another painful crack.

“There, that’s better, right back to the Chambers Saunders we have much to do” says the Mayor, he turns around and walks off.

Saunders, still in immense pain follows the Mayor, his back ramrod straight and his arms outstretched to keep his balance, anybody looking would think he was a  zombie.
The Council chambers are just a few hundred yards away from the pub, the council chambers used to be a coaching inn, it's an old building with great a large opening where the horse drawn coaches used go through to the stable yard at the back. The Mayor marches through the old coach entrance, over a stony courtyard to the small single story workshops at the back of the property. Inside the workshops are two large benches running the length of the building, one against each wall. Over the benches are shelves crammed with boxes, bottles with strange coloured fluids, wire or differing colours, mechanical parts and tools. At the far end of the building are two individuals both wearing brown, dirty dungarees, blue check shirts and odd looking gas masks which make farting sounds when the wearer breathes our. The straps holding the gas masks are playing havock with their hair giving them a scruffy mad scientist look. Hardy and Thomas are twins, identical in every way except one, the way they walk. Thomas has a lolloping gait whereas Hardy seems to float, he walks at a constant speed and his head does not move at all, it's very odd. They are both looking at a large silver box, it is covered in wires and other smaller silver boxes, the new race engine from the City University. At this precise moment they are feeding a dark powder into the wooden funnel mounted on the front of the box.

"Is it going any faster" asks Hardy, followed by a small fart sound.
"No, keep putting more in" says his brother.
"But we don't know if it's quantity that will make the difference", another fart sound.
"Well I guess we are going to find out, shove the rest of it in."
Hardy then pours more of the black powder into the wooden funnel.
"Have you got the new gas mask today?" asks Thomas.
"Yes I have, how can you tell?" Fart.

Outside the workshops the Mayor has stopped to tie a loose shoelace, he then feels something very odd, like a small, personal earthquake. He looks up to see white smoke straining from every little hole and opening of the workshop, the thick white cloud is heading his way, there is another barely audible deep thud and the Mayor is knocked over by another shockwave as it travels past him. The shockwave and white cloud is funnelled out through coach entrance where it is compressed and blows white smoke out like a cannon across the village green. The Mayor stands up and looks at the workshop building just as two very white twins emerge from the workshop surrounded by thick white smoke.

The Mayor quickly looks from one to the other.

"Well, did it work?" asked the Mayor.

"Not exactly" said Hardy. We didn't get it to go any faster, but it did spin with much more power, which means we could drive a much bigger propeller, so a partial success." Fart.

The Mayor rubs the bridge of his nose and then looks up.

"Please tell me you are not using rubbish, I heard you were looking in bins today" asks the Mayor.

"What, oh no, Thomas had lost the instructions for the engine, he put them in the rubbish by accident, we were using gunpowder." Fart.

"How much gun powder did you use?
"Only half of it, we now need to test how much we need to get the power in the propeller and then find something to mix it with to get the speed." beamed Thomas.
The Mayor visibly brightened.

"So, we are nearly there yes? What about the gondola and gas balloon, how are they coming along?"

The two brothers stiffened and looked at each other, one of them begin to point at something behind the Mayor. The Mayor turns around to see a strange figure, stiff legged, lopping from side to side with arms out stretched, emerge from the remains of the white smoke like something from a fog based horror movie.
The brothers then relax, they recognise Saunders, though he does look a little different today, taller somehow. They get back to the question.

“The gondola, well, we have had a thought, how about two smaller gondolas with a platform on the top, we will have a great view and a unique design” Said Thomas.

The Mayor, thinks for a while, the best looking craft, a powerful engine, what more could he want. To come first, that was all that was missing, he needed to find out what the other teams were up to so that he could make sure he would win, don’t want anybody else winning in his town, he needed to make sure he had an advantage, a plan was forming.