Tracksurgeon Series
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This is planned to be a story line for Tracksurgeon Racing. Each race's story will be added here as well as some extras.
Tracksurgeon Racing was founded in an undiscovered, independent city of humanoids in France. The country was formerly owned by the Frankish Empire. They were recorded by the Romans in documents that eventually became incinerated at the burning of the Library of Alexandria. Many of the humanoids had traveled outside the city, in which they discovered the modern world. They adopted great interest in technology and were fascinated by the impact of the automobile upon the world. The automobile made distant travel more convenient and affordable, and they did not require rest. As they were fascinated by speed, seen in chariot racing, there was a high demand for drag racing. Soon, Tracksurgeon Racing was then founded by Iven Marion and began entering tournaments in the Redline Derby.
Louenn Toussaint had no idea that the horn lodged in his head was actually the oxidized exhaust of Master Castrol. He questioned it; he left it there after his first accident, on his head, as a reminder to those within his village not to race on public roads. No one in the world knew that a shabby oil company that sponsored races was their master; it was not simply "shabby." The scars he had were from his accidents in the past,caused by distractions from his unrecognized fear of the Master. His magical carpets were the only things that kept him safe from the dangers. They were gone, and he was going to meet his fate; he would be eaten by the Master Castro. Louenn's initial actions towards the Master Castrol were of fear. His life had fears everywhere-- this was his greatest. Not only had the Master toyed with his consciousness, nature itself was being manipulated by the immense powers from the Master Castrol. Louenn had little to no consciousness as the Carte Blanche was initially knawed upon by the Master after failing to outrun him. Suddenly, his mind hammered open from the shards of glass tearing his skin and the collapsing roof pressing him down against the floorboard by the Master's teeth-- the teeth that dined on Jaguars and their drivers. He bailed out of the car, escaping from being devoured. Devastated, he jumped a concrete barrier wall and ran away from his smoke-engulfed Carte Blanche with scars along his body from his near-death. The man had no words to say nor could he speak even if he tried; the scar upon his throat had opened up from the shards of glass that cut him, from the "teeth" of the Master. He fled with his crew from the man-eating Master Castrol. The anonymous young man from an independent and striving French village of humanoids, the carpetbagger with a crystal eye and an exhaust pipe lodged in his head that raced white limousines every race, could've became a victim of the Master.
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