[ShadyBro]

 Owner       >>>  stilinski.
 Name                >>> Beowulf
 Gender         >>> Gelding
 Adoption Price         >>> 2 WL Rares
 Training         >>> [Completed]
  =====
  . Hot headed
  . Easily startled
  . Gets into fights a lot
  . Hard to get along with

 Offspring;
 None

 [Discipline >>>>> ]
 [Shows Entered > R: W: E:]
 [Shows Won >>>> R: W: E:]

 [Ej > ] [Ep > ]
 [Eh > ] [Ws > ]
 [Wp > ] [Wt > ]
 [Rf > ] [Rs > ]

Story: This poor babe has had a pretty rough life. They were stolen from a breeding farm at a young age, and the people who stole him tried burning off and then cutting off his previous brand so that it would be harder to track the little babe. After that they spent years entering him in illegal nera fights. He won almost every match, but when he lost his last one, they freaked and beat him half to death before dropping him off with the rest of these nera. The men that did all of this have been caught and arrested for their animal cruelty crimes, but that dosnt fix this little darlings situation. They're old and not able to take care of themselves at all, requiring a lot or help from their owner, whoever that may be. It took quite a bit of work but the agency has managed to clean him up and he is on a good road to recovery. We look forward to finding him a home, despite his faults.

[ruberiot]

I'd like to name him Beowulf please <3

[ruberiot]

First Touch
Upon hearing that a group of Neravontiis had been discovered, many of them starved, beaten, and clinging to life with all they had, something within me had wanted nothing more than to provide one with a good, loving home. So, naturally, I had jumped into my trusty silver pickup and driven to the agency, unsure of what to expect.

I was greeted warmly by a fairly tall man who shook my hand eagerly and asked if I was here to view the rescues. I had dipped my head in response, glancing about at the stalls. The Neras that peeked from the stalls did not appear to be abused. The man seemed to notice my slight confusion. "They are currently separated from the others," he explained. "Though I do suppose you'd wish to see them now. Follow me." He turned and vanished outside, walking hastily. "Now, do not make any sudden movements, noises, or anything of the sort to avoid striking fear," he told me.

Well duh, I thought, fighting back the urge to roll my eyes. I did not react, however, other than a nod of my head and a grunt to show I'd been listening attentively. Now we had reached our destination: a tall, wooden building with a single door leading inside; I'd also noticed that there was only one window, positioned away from any of the stalls. "Remember, please do be quiet and move slowly." He grasped the doorknob tightly and gingerly twisted it, stepping inside. As we ventured within, a gelding with many scars lining his pelt leaped back, snorting and squealing.

In doing so, the Neravontii startled the other rescues, sending the whole barn into a violent turmoil. I winced, a bloodcurdling scream resounding throughout the spacious enclosure. The young man who had brought me here stared at me apologetically, trying vainly to ignore the commotion. "They will stop shortly. I am terribly sorry, I had forgotten about this gelding. He is startled very easily." I bit my lip and watched the gelding. Gradually, he began to calm down, head lowering slowly.

"How much do you know about him?" I inquired, looking to the man.

His eyes pooled with confusion. Quite obviously, he was puzzled. "Who?"

I fought back waves of frustration. Slowly, I raised my pointer finger and targeted the scarred gelding. "That one. The one that spooks easily."

"Oh! Him. Well," he began, talking quietly, "When he was scarcely more than a foal, several men stole him from the breeding farm he was born at." I was already horrified. "Some of the scars are from the men themselves. They attempted to burn the brand, then cut it off, in hopes of making it impossible to track him. Now, as you can tell, he is older. He endured years of illegal fighting." Although it seemed silly to be reacting this way, I could feel tears welling within my eyes. How could anyone be so cruel?

"The gelding won every fight except for one. The men who stole him beat him within an inch of his life, quite literally, and dropped the poor creature off with dozens of other Neravontiis. Thankfully, the wretched men that did this have been arrested."

I was watching the gelding, feeling sorrow unlike any I'd felt before. "I think I will take him."

The man glanced at me curiously. "But you've neither seen any of the others nor heard their stories. Are you sure?" he asked kindly. I nodded.

"Could you tell me about his personality first, though?"

"Of course. The gelding you're interested in is very hot-headed, unlike any I've seen before." Immediately, another of my geldings, Wendell, popped into my mind. "As he's demonstrated at the start, he is startled by anything sudden and he fights a lot. Though it seems he was trained, in a way, to do so. It really isn't his fault, if you put thought to it. Anyway, one of the first things you will notice is that he is hard to get along with. And keep in mind he is an elder and will need plenty of aid from his owner."

It was a responsibility I was willing to take on. "I will take him. Poor boy."

"Okay miss. I will exit the building to retrieve the adoption papers. Do you wish to stay?" he questioned, moving slowly towards the door.

"Yes please, if it is allowed." The man nodded and moved off, closing the door with a muffled click. Now alone with the rescued Neravontiis, I turned slowly and walked gently to my newest gelding. As I approached, his head snapped up, ears flattened. "Hey there, boy." I whispered, knowing he could hear me. He snorted and flared his nostrils, obviously disliking me- or my presence, I was unsure- greatly. "Hey, shh, it's okay. I won't hurt you." I murmured. The scarred animal turned in my direction, head held in a standoffish manner. Anyway, one of the first thing you will notice is that he is hard to get along with. The man's words echoed in my mind.

I remained in my position, standing quietly. "I promise I won't hurt you." The gelding scented the air, ears swiveling. I then remembered the shirt I had pulled on was one I wore often to work with my Neravontiis, and it still smelled of them. Perhaps he could smell them on me and knew I would not bring harm to him?

Warily, the gelding approached me, reluctance evident in every muscle of his beaten body. "Hello there," I said, smiling although I knew he could not see me. He listened attentively, halting several feet from me. I drew my hand within my sleeve and held it through the bars, prepared to leap back in case he charged at me. Now, from a closer distance, I was able to observe him better. He seemed to still feel pain from the old scars, and his age showed. "Mister gelding," I murmured. "Hi." His ears pricked forward attentively.

It was not much, but it was progress, right?

Dozens of names swirled through my mind like an invisible flurry of snow. Kovu? It did mean scar... No.
Just plain Scar? Yeah, reeaall original.
Cicarice? The name meant scar as well.
Name him something that does not involve the word 'scar.' I told myself, waiting for a reaction from the gelding.

Beowulf. Perfect!

"Hey, Beowulf." I said, gently moving my fingers in hopes of attracting his attention. The beast moved closer, even if hesitantly. "I won't hurt you." I said once more. Then, he closed the remaining distance and gently sniffed at my fingers and shirt sleeve. I hoped he could scent my Neras and know I meant no harm.

With bated breath I tried to touch him, managing to succeed but at the same time anger the gelding. He squealed and lunged for my fingers, snapping at them. I jerked back violently just as the man who'd introduced me strode in. In his eyes, it looked as though I had harmed the gelding.

"Ma'am, what are you doing?" I turned, wide-eyed.

"I tried to pet him and he freaked," I said, somehow managing to speak without stammering.

"I see. Please sign the papers here." He offered me a clipboard and pen. I quickly scribbled my name in black ink and returned the articles, turning back to the gelding. Much to my surprise, he seemed to be watching me curiously from the recesses of his stall, tensed muscles relaxed slightly. "Do you wish to load him now?" I nodded vigorously, eyes locked on the gelding. "Will you need aid to do so?"

"Maybe. I want to try to do it myself." I said.

"Alright. I shall leave you to this." With those last words of parting, the man turned on his heel and strode away.

*****************************************
My new gelding was backed into the farthest corner of the pen, loath to enter the trailer before him. I did not blame him; he most likely remembered when he had been trailered away from his home and never returned, was treated so horribly. "Beowulf," I said, making kissing noises with my lips. "Hey boy." Wearily he approached, tossing anxious "glances" about him. In moments he stood just feet from me. Tiny, crushable me. My heart picked up speed. Beowulf sniffed me for the second time. I gently raised my palm. The gelding nosed it and gave it a tiny lick before drawing back. Maybe he thought I wasn't so bad?

I trailed my fingers along his muzzle gently, knowing from previous experience that many Neras enjoyed being stroked there. Beowulf surprisingly relaxed at my touch, leaning in.

Eventually, with plenty of coaxing, I was able to load him into the trailer.

I sensed, somehow, that Beowulf and I would become very close.

(Gah! I'm so sorry, I really did not mean to write a book :c)

[ruberiot]

First Saddle
It had been a long, difficult task in order to gain the trust of the Neravontii known as Beowulf. Miraculously, though I will never know how, he trusted me greatly. I had taught him to come to his name, or more so he had ended up doing it. Beowulf was a very obedient Neravontii if he liked you; if he did not, however, that was another story.

The gelding had ended up in a stall next to Kira. I had decided that her gentle and welcoming personality would help Beowulf settle in quicker. Either Beowulf was able to adjust rather quickly or Kira had helped-- I couldn't tell.
Like the man had told me, Beowulf did need plenty of assistance. His scars had to be cleaned rather frequently and checked over to make sure they had not been reopened; he had to have special medicine and antibiotics to make sure his scars were not giving him trouble, and due to his old age he had a slight case of arthritis. I was more than willing to aid the Neravontii, especially since he trusted me.

"Hey Beo," I said. The nickname had been given out of affection, and he responded well to both Beowulf and just Beo. Despite his trust for me, he still sometimes grappled with me. It was just part of his nature, and I could not (and did not, for that matter) blame him. Slowly, Beowulf approached me, nudging me in hopes of receiving treats. I offered him a small hunk of hotdog and watched him gobble it up as though food were going out of style. I patted his neck and haltered the immense creature before leading him from his spacious stall.

Since Beo would be saddled today, I had taken extra precautions and purchased a cream to rub onto the numerous scars that ran all along his hide. It seemed to help soothe them, for I could see Beowulf relax as the substance was applied. I smiled and ran my fingers along his soft muzzle before stepping back. I gathered the lead tightly within my grip and gave a gentle tug, Beowulf following along at a respectable distance.

I still had to walk very cautiously when going past other Neravontiis, as Beowulf would find something- no matter how insignificant and how difficult it was- to fight over and tousle with them. Arathorn made a whooping noise at Beowulf before shrinking back in his stall. I swear, if Neras were capable of making expressions, Arathorn would look unbelievably smug. Beowulf tensed up considerably, slammed to a halt, and began to scream. "Beowulf!" I called, attempting vainly to calm him. "Beowulf, hey, calm down." Beowulf lunged forward, desperate to fight with the blue and white gelding. Much to my surprise, Kira began to make a strange noise and Beowulf halted, turning his attention to her. I was eternally grateful to the mare. With ease, Beowulf obeyed me once more and we exited the building with little more trouble. "Good boy." I told Beowulf. I had not expected him to give up that easily. I rewarded the gelding with another piece of hotdog and tied him loosely to a pole.

Due to Beowulf's horrific past, he required a special bridle, saddle pad, and a saddle. If he were to be tacked up using the training tack that had been used for my other Neras, they would rub on his scars and cause him extreme discomfort. I did not wish Beowulf to endure more pain. He just did not deserve it and I was not the kind of person that would willingly inflict pain on an animal if it could be at all avoided. The saddle pad was a very soft and thin material, one that was very flexible and would not rub on the scars. The saddle was a very soft leather as well, and the cinches were designed much differently than a usual saddle. They fell back somewhat further than regular cinches, as was the same with the stirrups; it had been custom made specifically for my Neravontii, his scars taken into account when designing it. It wouldn't rub on the wounds. I cared deeply for the gelding and realized I would give anything to make sure he was happy, much like the same with my other Neravontiis.

The head piece was very light and would not rub on the scars along his face. The bit of the bridle was very delicate and lightly crafted to avoid hurting the inside of his mouth.

It seemed the first thing Beowulf noticed was the saddle pad. He snorted and gave a halfhearted tug at the rope, dancing slightly. "Hey, shhh, Beowulf. Easy boy, easy." Beowulf, being the headstrong creature that he was, paid no heed to the tiny human pleading with him. If he wanted to break free, he'd break free. Or at least he thought. I withdrew another piece of the hotdog and held it in front of him, cooing and murmuring softly. "Beowulf, look. It's a hotdog, your favorite treat." At the word "hotdog" Beowulf halted his actions. He eagerly snuffed it up and chewed it greedily, momentarily distracted. I rubbed his muzzle in order to further soothe him.

Next, came one of the most difficult parts of his training. Actually placing the tack on his body.

Prepared with plenty of pieces of the meat he so loved, I gently retrieved the saddle pad and ran it along his withers, gently as I could. Beowulf, however, did not approve of this and reared up, sending the cloth object to the ground with a thud. Further startled, he lashed out with his hind legs and sent it flying. He screamed and screamed bloody murder, jerking on the rope with startling force. I winced and leaped back, terrified of what might come.

It seemed an eternity before Beowulf was calm enough to approach, and when I did so, no matter how careful I was, I still managed to startle him. "Beowulf, hey now bud." I began to pet the Neravontii gently and fed him tiny bits of hotdog, soothing him the best I could. "Good boy, that's it. Yeah, nice and calm. Good boy." The gelding swallowed the final bit of meat and ran his tongue around his lips. He began to search me for more, nudging me. "No more until you let me put the saddle pad on you." I said, patting his neck.

I attempted it once more, only to receive the same reaction. I had nearly given up when an idea suddenly popped into my mind. If I brought one of my more calm Neras, like Kira or Sunspot and tacked them up, maybe Beowulf would see the tack meant him no harm? It was worth a try, and I had separate tack so I could attempt it at the same time if I wished to.

Kira followed me without any hesitation, nudging me affectionately. I smiled gratefully at the little mare who was my first foal. "Oh Kira, you're so special to me." I patted her before leading her up to Beowulf, gently tethering her to a second post. Beowulf perked up; Kira was here. The mare and the gelding were very good friends, though of course Beowulf still tousled with her on occasion.

I began the process of tacking the mare up, making sure Beowulf was aware of my actions. When Kira stood calmly and allowed the saddle pad to be placed atop her back, it seemed Beowulf reeled in surprise. Why was she letting that thing touch her? The final step to Kira's tack was the bridle; she took it without fight, eager to be ridden. She was tacked up, so why not? I hauled myself atop the little mare and gathered the reins. "Okay Kira, let's go." I gave her a tiny tap with my heels and we walked off, Beowulf watching in stunned confusion. The look of utter bewilderment that crossed his features caused me to be struck by a fit of laughing.
*************************************************************
Beowulf reluctantly allowed the fabric of the saddle pad to touch his withers. Kira seemed to be his idol. I smiled and adjusted it gently to make sure it was as far from his scars as possible. Next came the saddle, causing Beowulf to flatten his ears. He snorted, but allowed it to rest atop the material beneath. "Good boy, Beowulf." I gave him three more bits of hotdog. He gobbled them up. He seemed to think that if there was hotdog involved, this was not as bad as he was making it out to be. I cinched up the saddle, pleased with the cinch itself; it did not come to a rest atop the pale pink scars.

Finally, I placed the bit into his mouth. Beowulf bit at it, hoping he could break it with a powerful bite of his jaws. I chuckled and offered him another piece of the hotdog. I gathered the bridle and led Beowulf in several circles along my property to get him used to the feel of his tack; however, this did not last long, as I did not wish Beowulf to start hurting because of his new introduction to this entire ordeal.

I removed all of the tack and placed it where it belonged, proud of my gelding. I gave him what remained of the hotdog, petting him lovingly.

The bond I'd sensed had blossomed into one of true friendship and trust.

[ruberiot]

First Ride
For several weeks I had tacked up Beowulf daily and led him about. I only took him along my property, as I knew that there was nothing there that could truly hurt him. After we had walked the length of my land, I would gently place weight in the saddle and pull myself halfway up. I'd then repeat this process several times on either side, being very careful as I did so in case the gelding were to spook. I honestly did not wish to be trampled.

On a bright, crisp morning I headed outdoors equipped with several treats to give the gelding. Once I had reached the Neravontii, I called his name and offered him a slice of apple. He crunched at it eagerly. While Beowulf ate, I haltered him with ease. There was definitely improvement there from when I had first taken him home. Whenever Beowulf had seen a halter for the first few days I had him, he would spook and snort wildly, often causing havoc to ensue throughout the barn.

I led the Neravontii from his spacious stall to the outdoors. I had noticed that cooler temperatures made him more spunky it seemed. That was odd, because cold generally made older animals and humans alike ache. Beowulf stood calmly as I tethered him to a sturdy wooden post lined with scars from being tugged at. He remained calm while the tack was placed onto him. The only issues we truly had was when he decided he did not wish to be bridled and attempted to knock it from my grip. "Beowulf," I said, a slight hint of scolding in my voice. "Be good." Reluctantly, the gelding stopped his anxious jerking and relaxed. I rubbed in a small bit of special ointment onto the scar where his brand had previously been. I then gave him a small lump of sugar before leading him gently by the bridle to the more secluded areas of my property.

I mounted the gelding by using a large, ancient tree stump that had been there for as long as I could remember. Once atop the creature, I collected the reins and gave him a gentle tap with my heels. We moved off at a slow, gentle walk. I patted Beowulf's neck before I asked him for a trot. He moved into the faster gait with ease, and seemed willing to continue for the remainder of our ride at that speed. After around three minutes, I drew him to a walk. I did not wish to hurt the gelding. He was older, after all, and could not be ridden as hard as my other Neras.

Surprisingly, the remainder of our ride passed without trouble. I rode Beowulf back to the stables at a slow trot, enjoying the feeling of the wind tousling my hair. Once we reached the pole where I had originally placed the tack onto the gelding, I drew him to a halt and slid awkwardly from his back, landing ungracefully on the ground. I turned to face the gelding and gently removed the bridle, exchanging it for his halter. I patted his neck and swirled by fingers along his muzzle, offering him the pieces of hotdog I had taken along with me. I then proceeded to remove the remainder of his tack, returning it to its rightful spot.

Beowulf had made amazing progress from the terrified, abused Neravontii I had first taken home.