[Archaeopteryx.]

Range Trotters are the result of crossbreeding Orlov Trotters, Finnhorses, Welsh Cobs (section C & D) and Hanoverians. Later crosses of Quarter Horses, Paint and Appaloosas to gain color and to give a boost to their hardiness.With a height average of 13-15 hands, they're a hardy breed with characteristics for various disciplines.

Created for use as work, carriage and leisure riding horses originally, they now serve as long-distance range horses, such as work with Park Rangers and mounted officers.

Willing and eager personalities, most are quickly trained to be bombproof and therefore trusted mounts in all lines of work; some are being seen in local show jumping competitions, others are notably used in therapeutic sessions for their calm temperaments. Harness races and endurance trials are common for the breed, as they are able to sustain an extended trot without tire. Cross-Country competitions see some of the taller Trotters, but due to their cob lineage this is still uncommon.

Despite the variety of competitions and work these horses are being seen in, they are still famously skilled as endurance racers. Many competitors have chosen Range Trotters due to their tireless work ethic, as well as the ease in which they can be trained. Many have become champions in endurance trials, and they have quickly become a sought after breed for their natural ability.

This Trotter will be the origin of one of the pirate's scary stories- what exactly did they do to become a legend?
End Date: Monday, May 20th

Username:
Show Name:
Barn Name:

Gender:
Height:
Eye Color: Red Shore Dreams
Phenotype: Black smoke rainbow trout triggerfish
Genotype: Ee aa RbtRbt TrfTrf +smoke

Code: Select all

[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Show Name:[/b]
[b]Barn Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Height:[/b]
[b]Halter Color:[/b]
[b]Prompt:[/b]

[Embergleam]

Username: Embergleam
Show Name: RRS Devil of the Seas
Barn Name: Nuckelavee ('Nuck')
Gender: Stallion, identifies as agender (they/them pronouns)
Height: 15.3 hh
Halter Color: Rope, artist's choice on colors
Prompt:
Nuck didn't do a darn thing.

Or, rather, they didn't do anything anyone can prove.

Nuck was originally captured by a crew who called themselves the Black Cats. The Cats were something of a legend in Orkney, as famous for their brazenness as they were for their outrageous luck. Normal sailors stayed in port when the skies turned steely, but the Cats? They accepted such challenges as a matter of course. Over the years their uncanny luck- and their willingness to exploit it- had made them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.

It had also made them dangerously overconfident.

Wiser sailors would have spotted a black horse on a barren Orcadian island and beaten an immediate retreat. Not the Cats, though. They took the strange sight as a sign from Lady Luck herself. Here was another blessing just for them, proof positive that fate offered great rewards to those who took great risks. They needed merely reach out and take the gift she'd given them.

Except this gift fought back.

The strange horse bloodied four sailors before they were finally herded aboard, and broke another seaman's arm while being secured in the ship's cargo hold. The Cats, shaken for the first time in years, promptly set sail for home.

By sundown the Cats' cabin boy, a scrawny lad of barely eighteen, fell suddenly and unexpectedly ill. He tossed and turned in the grips of a dangerous fever, weeping inconsolably for the mother he'd left onshore. Old Sawbones, as the Cats called their resident doctor, had no idea what to make of it. None of his usual tricks could put a dent in the boy's fever. Worse yet, the illness spread like wildfire, leapfrogging from the cabin boy to rank and file sailors all the way up to Captain Connor himself. One by one what seemed like half the crew was struck down in their prime, reduced to trembling delirium by visions only they could see.

It was an Orcadian native who finally put the pieces together. She'd grown up on tales of the island and its myths, from the under-dwelling hogboons to seagoing trows. Orkney-folk had a term for ocean-dwelling horses who caused illness and misfortune wherever they went.

They called them nuckelavees, the nastiest of all Orcadian demons.

The Cats were cocky, but they weren't stupid. Even they knew better than to take a perhaps-literal demon to the mainland with them. Instead they broke down the door to their captive's makeshift stall and stood back, hoping against hope that they weren't making their worst mistake yet.

The black ocean-horse trotted out of their prison, raised their head, drank in the wind. Their ears shifted, taking in the sounds of seabirds and salt spray. For a long moment they were still, perhaps waiting for some signal only they could see. All at once they screamed, a sound as horrible as it was eerily human-

And they plunged overboard into the fathomless depths, leaving barely a ripple to mark their passing.

The storm that rose in their wake carried the Black Cats all the way back to shore. Even after the sick Cats recovered, none of them ever dared set sail again.

The nuckelavee had chosen mercy once. There was no guarantee it would do so a second time.

[Baobabel]

Username: Baobabel
Show Name: Deadly Black Shoals
Barn Name: Shoal
Gender: Mare
Height: 15hh
Halter Color: Artist's choice!
Prompt:

This trotter wasn't captured and put aboard by the pirates, it just appeared...

Misfortune and unease had been spreading across the ship ever since they captured the latest load of horses. The capture, loading, and containment had actually gone quite smoothly. A couple nights later the pirates were throwing themselves a party of sorts over how successful their haul would be. That was the night the haunting began.

At first it was little things.
Pieces of clothing were missing from the laundry lines. A coil of rope knocked over.

Then it became odder.
Doors were unlocked and left open to let in the cool moist night air. The food rations were lower than what the log showed. Important knots were undone. Ropes were sawed or chewed through. The barrels of fresh water were contaminated with salt water. The rowboats were disconnected and drifted off during the night.

The pirates all began to suspect each other and fights broke out amongst the crew. Distrust and animosity grew.

Then came the supernatural.
The night watch began to report sightings of a ghostly apparition. They would swear to hear hoofbeats across the deck or a glimpse of a tail but no horse was ever found. The rigging and sails looked to be trampled on even though all the horses remained locked in the hold. Sharks circled the boat.

Then came the terrifying.
They had an unusual number of days at sea where the wind and water were unnaturally completely still. So still they could see their worried paranoid faces looking back at them if they peered over the rails and after a week they hadn't moved more than a few meters.
During this time the nightly deviling began. In the hold, the horses acted like normal horses. No odd behaviors and just the regular noises, until night fell. At first, listening to the hold, the pirates would hear the usual sounds, a shuffle in the hay as one shifts or an occasional snort. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere, all the horses in the hold broke into a frenzy. Neighing and kicking. The pirates rushed down to calm them, but as they got to the hold, from outside the ship the air was pierced by an unearthly equine scream. Hairs raised and goosebumps grew. They all ran back up to the deck but nothing could be seen. At that point they realized the horses in the hold had gotten quiet again. Not just quiet, silent.

This became a nightly routine for seven nights in a row. The ship, unmoving in the water. The gear, falling apart at the seams. No escape via rowboats. The horses acting normal until night. And that haunting call from the depths after every sundown. The pirates were now losing sleep in worried apprehension and because the cacophony followed by that piercing scream was unpredictable. Always after dark but never at the same time. At this point they were no longer worried about losing money, they were just concerned about surviving with their lives. They had a meeting and eventually decided to head back to the island chain where they had captured the horses.

The next day, the wind picked up and the currents resumes, headed straight for the islands of course.

When they got within a few miles of the closest islands, all of a sudden the horses began their loud cacophony. This time during the day. In a panic, the lad that was stationed with them threw open the bolt and they exploded from their pen in the hold. They crashed up the stairs, forced the top door open and poured out onto the deck. All of a sudden, a dark mare with red down the side reared up and let out a scream. All the pirates cringed and fell as they recognized the sound. Lead by the inflamed mare, the horses leap as one and began their swim back to their islands.

Afterwards the pirates conferred. No one had recognized the lead mare. All swore they hadn't been the one to capture her and hadn't even seen her in the hold. Those pirates never again went to the islands to capture sea trotters, or any animals for that matter. They stuck to more mundane things like gold and spices and warned off any crew headed in that direction. Some still claim to hear that furious scream at night.

[kijauni]

Username: kijauni
Show Name: VEO's Haunted By Storys
Barn Name: Yarny
Gender: Stallion
Height: 14.2 hh
Halter Color: Based on the Trout Colour!
Prompt: He left a legacy!
(I couldn't come up with such a looong story as my competitiors so I figured, I throw my hat in the ring with a very short reply!) :3

[Archaeopteryx.]

Username: Embergleam
Show Name: RRS Devil of the Seas
Barn Name: Nuckelavee ('Nuck')
Gender: Stallion, identifies as agender (they/them pronouns)
Height: 15.3 hh
Halter Color: Rope, artist's choice on colors
Prompt:
Nuck didn't do a darn thing.

Or, rather, they didn't do anything anyone can prove.

Nuck was originally captured by a crew who called themselves the Black Cats. The Cats were something of a legend in Orkney, as famous for their brazenness as they were for their outrageous luck. Normal sailors stayed in port when the skies turned steely, but the Cats? They accepted such challenges as a matter of course. Over the years their uncanny luck- and their willingness to exploit it- had made them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.

It had also made them dangerously overconfident.

Wiser sailors would have spotted a black horse on a barren Orcadian island and beaten an immediate retreat. Not the Cats, though. They took the strange sight as a sign from Lady Luck herself. Here was another blessing just for them, proof positive that fate offered great rewards to those who took great risks. They needed merely reach out and take the gift she'd given them.

Except this gift fought back.

The strange horse bloodied four sailors before they were finally herded aboard, and broke another seaman's arm while being secured in the ship's cargo hold. The Cats, shaken for the first time in years, promptly set sail for home.

By sundown the Cats' cabin boy, a scrawny lad of barely eighteen, fell suddenly and unexpectedly ill. He tossed and turned in the grips of a dangerous fever, weeping inconsolably for the mother he'd left onshore. Old Sawbones, as the Cats called their resident doctor, had no idea what to make of it. None of his usual tricks could put a dent in the boy's fever. Worse yet, the illness spread like wildfire, leapfrogging from the cabin boy to rank and file sailors all the way up to Captain Connor himself. One by one what seemed like half the crew was struck down in their prime, reduced to trembling delirium by visions only they could see.

It was an Orcadian native who finally put the pieces together. She'd grown up on tales of the island and its myths, from the under-dwelling hogboons to seagoing trows. Orkney-folk had a term for ocean-dwelling horses who caused illness and misfortune wherever they went.

They called them nuckelavees, the nastiest of all Orcadian demons.

The Cats were cocky, but they weren't stupid. Even they knew better than to take a perhaps-literal demon to the mainland with them. Instead they broke down the door to their captive's makeshift stall and stood back, hoping against hope that they weren't making their worst mistake yet.

The black ocean-horse trotted out of their prison, raised their head, drank in the wind. Their ears shifted, taking in the sounds of seabirds and salt spray. For a long moment they were still, perhaps waiting for some signal only they could see. All at once they screamed, a sound as horrible as it was eerily human-

And they plunged overboard into the fathomless depths, leaving barely a ripple to mark their passing.

The storm that rose in their wake carried the Black Cats all the way back to shore. Even after the sick Cats recovered, none of them ever dared set sail again.

The nuckelavee had chosen mercy once. There was no guarantee it would do so a second time.

congrats! will update their art in a bit!

rewarding an hm to Baobabel!