"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.
Alone he walked, hooves crunching on frozen thistles and shrubbery, a man too restless to linger long in the confines of the herd territory. Within the season he had explored every nook, every cranny, every beauty to be had, and it but whetted his thirst. He wanted to see this land, to see what it held, to unlock Oracle's cryptic message that Helovia would be where he would remain, at peace and happy.
Fucking Oracle.
For once, Elrond wished the man had been less cryptic and more open about what he meant. That he would find peace here.... true peace? Or the peace of death? Slowly he ground to a halt, like a machine dearly in need of repair, great neck arched and face uplifted towards the sky as if it offered answers. None were to be found, of course. The sky offered little but beauty thrice every cycle; dawn, dusk and night.
Blue gaze dropped from the clouds above to the frost below, visible only because the sun's relentlessness had yet to sear away the fragile ice. It was that perfect time of early morn where the sun glittered off the frost in a dazzling display, and Elrond found himself entranced. It was days like this where he shut down, preferring to doze the day away in memory, escape the silence of his self-imposed exile, and almost...pretend. Pretend he was a gangly young colt once more, who couldn't be happier with life.
His mind turned to the past, to the memories within. Taurel, Celeborn, Thranduil, Nella.... So many. So far away... gone for a folly he would never know as to it's outcome. Did Thranduil survive? Did his sacrifice do anything? Perhaps not.. but he would suffer. For his brother, for his family... he would suffer, if needed he would take the weight of the world upon his back that they might never feel it's burden. Perhaps that single decision so long ago had been made with the haste of a child, but everytime he considered returning... that damned little golden boy would appear, grinning with pride over some such thing of beauty, his expression one of reverence soaking every word Elrond spoke.
Even now he could practically see him, Thranduil, across the meadow. Although this was no child, but a grown man, ever so glorious in his skin of most precious metal. It made his eyes prick with pride, but slowly he turned his head away. It was foolish to delude himself like this, it caused naught but pain and a weary nostalgia that made him feel far older than he was. Yet... once more he looked, relieved that the visage had not yet faded, that his subconscious would allow him this respite, that he might wonder at what once was.
The world seemed dead. So quiet, so frozen. All of this lands inhabitants seemed to be welled up in their individual little corners of the world, struggling to keep warm. To venture outside was to invite the cold and quick biting winds upon your small mortal body, and that certainly was a disastrous invitation for frostbite. The golden though could not stand one second more in that prison of a Basin. It was such an allure to stay when he held such power there. Where he could stand before others with the smirk and satisfaction of being above them. Yet, that was not all he felt in such situations. He could never name it. Nor did he even recognize it. It was a tension which hung in the air about him. A frustration he could not name, and weariness that haunted his steps.
Perhaps it was just frostfall, and the piles of snow which now covered the Basin. So then perhaps all that needed to solve it was a journey out. It hadn’t been easy. The snow drifts in front of the Arch had grown taller. At one point Haldir had to jump on the golden’s back, a hated affair, in order to get through. He too though was determined not to be left. And though the golden stomped, and snarled, nipping at him when he jumped back off after the worst, the deer was still quite pleased with himself. In the past few weeks he had grown very sure of himself. The golden’s ill attitudes had nothing upon him now. He had antlers. Walking by the golden you might not recognize the goofy fawn of before. To be sure he still was a playful thing, but as he had a crown himself now. Though his antlers were still covered in fuzz and growing, he already bore several great tines. Holding them high, he steps as he had seen wild deer in the Basin do, high and proud. It was a playful sport really. Not exactly a permanent mood, but certainly he was proud of it.
From the mountains they had come, trying to get away from snowy prison. Haldir for once able to walk beside due to the lighter snow, and the golden, head low and swinging relaxed. They headed down to get away, to move on to something different. There was so little to do with no one about. Usually someone was heading up on these slopes, or you could see moving on the flatlands of Helovia. But no one stirred. Growing hungry, the golden had taken a turn. If no one was about he might as well move to do something worth wide today. Climbing back up a small track, with Haldir bounding in front of him, the pair made their way to a plateau. It was higher up, but being so close to the sun, there was little snow. Pawing a cloven hoof at the thin layer, a few dry springs sprung up. Greedily he ate, and Haldir as well, both of which showing how thin the winter was stripping them. It was a very unassuming day. That’s how they usually start, unassuming and quiet. It was certainly though not going to continue that way for much longer.
Haldir was the first to notice him. He had grown shaper in his skills as of late. The dark shadow in the snow, and curious smell drew him up. Large ear swivel under his growing crown. It was a strange creature, not in its look nor its features, but in its smell. It smelled like his bonded. A short snort of a signal, echoes through him, and to the silent world of the gold it rings out loud and clear. He did not want to be interrupted today. He did not want company or to play pretend. His bones were weary of their weight, and stomach growled to fiercly. Harks fall back and that crowned head finally lifts to look upon the intruder. Upon the ghost.
His body, like ice over a lake freezes, and harks stand straight forward. Haldir feeling the change looks back confused, but the golden was in his own world now. A world far far away. It couldn’t be. It was some sort of a magic, a trick, a ghost. That horse was dead.
Double dead. That land, that past, it did not exist. It was kept far away. The grey fathers, in the slight breeze brushed the nape of his neck, and the silent reminder of memories new and old crashed together, sending chills down his bones. Walls, protective and armed rose up around his weakness. This could not be. This was a lie. THAT UNICORN WAS DEAD. Long ago Oxy had drawn a nightmare from his memory in a cruel and vicious attack….but this memory was not cruel. It was happy, and loved, causing that golden to be even more guarded. It came from a time when he was very much a different creature. One Helovia would fail to recognize. But it had to be some sort of a trick it had too. That unicorn was dead. “What cruel attack is this?” His words spit out. They were distant though. Too rough for him, broken and disjointed. He should have been smoother. He should shake it off and lie. Be well controlled, and fine tuned. But this wasn’t planned. NEVER was this planned. And the hit was too close for him to shake it off. This wasn’t a lie, this was a worry, a fear…..
…a hope? Dare he say a hope? That unicorn was dead. Elrond was dead. But how many moons had he wished he was not. Experience taught threat, but memories and wishes taught hope. His defense were already falling, his icey face, growing warm with the thought. A warmth it had not felt tingle its nerves for a long time. So the second word was very much different from the first, betraying him. “Elrond?”
Wardrobe:: Wolf cape, satchel, pole arm, daggers, circlet
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
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Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.