"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
02-06-2016, 06:12 PM (This post was last modified: 02-06-2016, 07:24 PM by Lena.)
Elegiac and wistful, she spent her time mooring amidst the rubble of stones and pebbles, transfixed by the shells and shackles conspiring amongst the low tides. The pair meandered across pieces of shoal and shoreline, making prints until the waves swept them away. Imogen attempted to taunt the writhing torrent, chirping then batting, running, then chasing, but all Lena saw, beyond the surf, beyond the shallows, beyond the nighttime swallows and the twinkling twilight, was the rise of viperous distortions and the sinuous, eruption of her carefully woven cadence and canvas. She’d endured, she’d remained, she’d clawed at disruptions and havoc and wreckage, turning and twisting them into determination, resolution, and conviction. It was a part of her everyday life; she drifted in and out of shadow and light, she played harp to wounded soldiers, she invoked beauty and grandeur in a siege of dissolution and disrepair, she whispered sweet, dulcet arias into crowds of demons. But somewhere, somehow, she’d gotten stuck, dragged and pulled into a rut, into thorns and nettles, felt them clawing, snatching, and grasping. Because no matter what she did, it still wasn’t pious, virtuous, or wholesome. She’d embraced Roland’s existence as a sign of liberation, as a notion, as a hint, of deliverance – that she could fly and be free and capture every elegant essence, every ethereal grace, every silly, whimsical, sultry vow and prosper it into the heavens. He’d watched, amused, she’d thought, as she traipsed across the earth with a song in her heart and dance in her steps, and the sway of the realm laying unbidden at her feet, at her soul, at her beautiful, rapturous melodies. Then he’d left. Lena had asked herself why so many times that the word was now stuck along her teeth and embedded in her head. She must’ve been done something horrible, ferocious, and iniquitous to cause him to leave her behind, to trap her within mirrors where only her mercenary expression filtered and flickered on glass. She’d chased down cretins and demons because they’d threatened livelihoods, because they attempted to ruin her cherished, beloved friends, because she’d thought they were cruel, barbaric infidels trying to ensnare everyone into hell. Then she’d discovered they were Gods, and she’d aided in their destruction, in their terror, in their avaricious, brutal fall. The nymph had ceased, stopped, and watched as they lay ravaged and mutilated by her kin, by her brethren, by fellow citizens and herself; dying as they struggled to protect what had been theirs all along. She hadn’t been a Mender; she’d been a monster. The truth whittled across her tongue and down her throat, scorching and simmering, searing and burning, cloaking her finery in immoral murmurs and cataclysmic derision. Perhaps she didn’t know who she truly was anymore; if there was more treachery to her than song, if there was more heathen than virtue. Her head hung low as they became soaked along the ocean’s breaking squalls, neither enlivened by screeching gulls or winter’s forgiving torrent on the warm climate. No songs passed through her lips, no hallelujahs drifted from her mouth. They were nomadic quandaries, pulsing along an ineffectual beat; soulless and dipped in iniquity, matching so many other souls tethered in purgatory.
Everything seemed so pointless now. A mere shadow of the still dark life I had lived before, back when my family still existed on the mysterious lands of Helovia. But now, it seemed I was the only one left, other than the mixed breed that called himself my half-brother. His mother had to have been a goddess or the most beautiful thing on four legs for the great Poisoner to want to get between them. Irritation flickered through my nervous system as I storm away from the camping spot Edison and I had decided upon for the night, nestled under the heavy branches of a tree and tucked away from the frigid winter winds that I had grown to love in my years at the Basin. For a moment I felt the flash of panic travel through the predatory bird when he realized that I was gone, but it was quickly quelled as he realized that I was safe. Just moping, as I had been since the news was delivered by the bird in black.
Dark rimmed ears hardly had to be moved to press back into tangled midnight strands, it seemed they hardly found anything interesting enough to bother with perking forwards any longer. I mumbled to myself angrily as mismatched limbs moved my bloodied body through the night. Moon eyes drifted aimlessly, soaking in the little bit of vision that the night sky allowed. The path I was taking was one that I was quite familiar with, the ground beneath me, even enveloped in snow; was growing warmer and warmer with each stride. Snow melted away easily as hooves struck against the crystals that marred the pathway to the isles in which my dearest brother had last been seen. Part of me wondered if I should have invited the red bird along, knowing that he would want to see if what the night bird had said was true. But, he never seemed impressed with the deep emotions that only he could witness due to the mental connection we shared. So I had left him behind for the time being, knowing that we would find each other again in no time if needed.
For now though, I was content to travel on my own leaving behind only a trail of snowy hoofprints to tell where I had been.
The sound of waves crashing relentlessly against the shoreline told me I had met the end of the road, forcing red lids to peel away from silver eyes as they adjusted once again to the shades of grey that greeted them like a mother to her new born child. I swallowed hard, staring out at the water momentarily in the direction that I knew the Dragon's Throat to be, before sighing hard, blowing a cloud of steam into the cold air and turning away from the gateway. It didn't matter if they had allowed me to cross over, something told me Mesec wasn't a liar, Sacre was gone from these lands and so was our father. Who knew if or when they would be coming back.
As my heart shattered once again I began walking along the shore of Helovia. So many memories of these lands found their home nestled safely in the cobweb covered filing cabinets that rested in the shadows of my already jaded mind, both wonderful memories that caused the shadows to run in hiding momentarily and dark memories that nearly forced me to turn and walk into the oncoming waves so I could end my life just as easily as my family had left it. Shaking my ivory crowned skull harshly I looked away from the water just in time to see the tiara'd frame of a mare I knew quite well in passing. Lena. She was beautiful in the most simple way, her already dark body outlined in silver by the glow of moonlight, but something seemed so different of the songbird who seemed to lift the spirits of many on this night.
Tonight there was no singing, no laughter, no smile that was the normal signature of the mare. Simply the hanging of her tiara near the salty brine, was her heart breaking as mine was on this winter night? I took a few hesitant steps closer to the mare I had once considered a herd mate, but for the moment I belonged to nowhere but Helovia. "Hello Lena." Deep vocals drifted away from my ink stained velvets as my weight shifted carefully to my back limbs in hopes of seeming more relaxed than I truly felt.
Cold, twisting, evening air nestled amidst their wandering, and she bartered against it with a gentle whisper and a fiendish longing for distraction. Imogen pressed her claws into the sands and hissed feral incantations against the swirling tides, and Lena laughed at the foolishness of it; but the gentle swell of sound and sonnets would die away quickly, decaying in the aftermath of nothingness and ambiguity. Her eyes would catch a midnight gull snagging at fish caught in a tidal pool, or the swift, soulless action of the sea and all its force, all its might, dragging out granules of the dunes and leaving ivory shells behind. Then they’d move on, restless and abandoned, desolate and forlorn, trails of ice and snow, fettered and frayed, remnants of fortitude and might; cast away rime. The pair might’ve even chased after the pending sunrise, the foretold dawn, the augured morning, had the sound of another’s approach resounded against rock and rubble – the Mender’s ears twisted in various directions, snagging on the pockets of soft, dulcet motions, and the pale kitsune, forever, eternally protective, released a molten sibilance. But the Songbird shook her head, forgoing Imogen’s vigilant, violent temptations, because she recognized the creature roaming the shadows, despite the years and seasons spanning his careful perusal. “Good evening, Roux,” she tipped her head in greeting, always providing refinement, dignity, and affability, even in the face of the unspoken abyss, of the trials and tribulations glorified and receding. The length of her crown twisted in genuine curiosity and speculation – remembering the lad as a boy beside his twin brother, disciples and descendants of her predecessor (and where had the Doctor gone, precisely? Had he disappeared as the rest of them all eventually did, whittled away by time, by space, by torturous trials and merciless hours?). They’d been taken once, with their mother Kou, stolen and absconded, and then she hadn’t truly known what became of them thereafter, hadn’t followed their paths once they were liberated and released. His eyes were still pale, and she presumed still incapable of sight (could nothing heal them, or did he choose to remain that way, something he’d always known?) despite knowing who she was within the veil of night. It was a relief to know that one of them still remained amidst this earth, not cast aside, not mired and ruined, not spurned and shackled, and at this, she proffered a whimsical smile. Thereafter, her lips bestowed a fine aria, christened and anointed, enchanting and nymph-like, stoking over fairy ethereality, hiding away the rubbled, ruined adornments of her soul. “How are you faring?”
Ink stained ears along with moon eyes shifted away from the silver lined frame of the familiar mare to settle upon the many-tailed canine who seemed less than pleased at my arrival. Had I done something to the Songbird in my previous years to make her mind quiver and shake at my mere arrival? Or perhaps her bondmate was simply overly protective of her during the darkest hours of the night? A twitch forced the corner of my midnight marked lips into what some could probably consider a smile, I thought the kitsune's act of defiance was amusing and mildly impressive as I could easily ruin the creature's night without breaking a sweat. Pushing back the thoughts as the mare's melodic voice filled the air, dancing with the sound of the waves crashing a few feet from us and the frothy head sticking to the thick hairs around our hocks thanks to the cold of the Basin's winter.
"Good evening, Roux." I see her gaze pull upwards towards my eyes that matched the full moon that was slowly creeping up over the rough brine we stood alongside. Had she thought that some miracle had brought sight back to the silver pools that decorated an otherwise plain mask? Everything in me wanted to be able to see the world like the rest of them did, but it seemed as if my life would remain only being able to see when the rest of the world slept. Of course, I could very well go and beg a god to give me eyes for some crazy quest that held no purpose other than to provide them with some sick kind of amusement, but I had already lived thus far without being able to see on my own, so what was the point?
"How are you fairing?" My focus was forced back to the bay, a screech of pain scorching through my bloodied frame as moon eyes settled sadly on her pretty features. The world fell dark around us, the sound of the ocean fading away into a faint whisper while I scrambled to find words to tell the Songbird how I was fairing. "Did you know my father left? And my brother as well?" Of course she would know they were gone, everyone knew that they were gone. Except for me. I was the last one in the entirety of Helovia to know that my beautiful mother in all of her grace was dead. For all the rest of the world knew my twin and my father were dead as well, our sire could very likely be dead and I would never know. But Sacre...Sacre I would know if he had died as surely a part of my soul would scream out in pain as it is mauled as if a pack of wild wolves hunting for sport had managed to get their sharp teeth tangled up in it. Even in the midst of my depression I could tell that my soul was still intact and therefore the blood splashed black had to still be alive, somewhere.
"My sister, my mother are both....dead." I almost couldn't force the word to fall off of my vocal chords, rather I threw it as if it were some kind of annoying child that wouldn't unwrap itself from around my leg. What was there to live for anymore? My entire family was gone. Aside from the Grim Reaper dressed like a bird, I was the only one left of my bloodlines to wander the lands of Helovia. Surely there was a reason that I was the only one left...were the fates waiting for the perfect time to pick me off as well? Maybe next time they wouldn't put a beautiful Songbird in my way to stop me from walking into the unforgiving brine. Or maybe she would save me.