"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.
A party was something the blue bird wasn’t the biggest fan of. Back in Dorobo, his family held many great occasions with nearly every member drinking a bit too much and becoming a rambunctious pulse of a gathering. It was something he tried to avoid back in the day, with people he didn’t particularly care for, with drama spreading like wild fire between each mouth, however slurred it may be. Still, the Throat was his home now. It was something he’d have to do at least at some point. Might as well start early. As he approached, there were quite a few already gathered, offering a swift dip of his head in greeting to those he knew, he made his way to the side for a few moments to simply observe.
He first noticed Ampere, as easily as it was. His eyes always wandered to the electric blue mare for one reason or another. Then, they shifted to Syrena, a mare he had spent a few moments in the water with as well. Then finally around to all of the children that inhabited the desert. It was surprising for him to see how many foals ran around the place. Is that all the members here did? Not that Sunjata would complain, to be honest, but he preferred the idea without ties, without his seed spreading and creating even more lives.
After a few moments, he tucked his wings tightly to his side and decided to join the gathering, waiting patiently to see what kind of event this might turn into.
I feel uncomfortable.
Even though the fine red sands of the desert, and the packed dry earth, are similar to all I have ever known, it is not comforting. (Perhaps it is because of that reason, that it is all I have ever known, and I can never seem to outrun a past of horror that is hell-bent on haunting me, that I remain in a haze of misery and despair). Of course, as much as I would like (try) to hold blame and grudges against the others who live here, I know in my heart that I cannot. My isolation is by no one’s doing other than my own.
I sequester myself—
(Eagerly, desperately, and stubbornly—) I shut myself away from the rest of the world.
It is all that I know how to do.
(And, sometimes, I wonder if I even want that to change.)
With lips sealed and my heart carefully locked up, I watch as the herd’s party unfolds. Stubbornly (foolishly) I remain in the comfort of the shadows, just outside the firelight and behind those who worship the God of the Sun. They are laughing, drinking, and seem to be enjoying themselves. There is a small part of me, somewhere deep and private, that nearly urges me to join them—but the thought is buried beneath years of abuse and doubt before it can even register properly within my mind.
Instead I lean my weight backwards, flicking the dusty length of my tail (the ends of which don’t even make it off the sands), and simply settle for the familiarity of my silence and isolation.
Melita could be perceptive when she yearned to be, when a thousand things didn’t absorb her mind, when her attention wasn’t split between the clouds, the earth, the water, or the air. So she watched as Iskra seemed ruffled, anxious, and perturbed within the gathering, shifting her attention from the strange drink with its enticing fragrance, and back to the older boy. Her brows furrowed, knitted together, concern lacing its way through her heart and mind, pondered how he’d become so flustered, because she’d always seen him as bright, reminding her of the sky, always ablaze in golds and blues. The little, lithe girl whispered, attempted to minimize the attention (for once in her life) she placed, gilded eyes focused and centered entirely on the paragon. “Are you okay?” Then he murmured, a very hushed tone, about the drink, how she should be careful (and what did that mean, because no one had ever mentioned treading lightly, cautiously, warily, towards her before), and not to take too much (when that was all she ever did, snag and grasp, hold and clench). Her eyes were drawn back to the liquid and its intriguing allure, gaze snapping along and watching how the rest of the adults were altered from its intoxicating bellows, wondering how to heed his warning and still dive right into the irresistible urge; taking one more plunge she didn’t understand or comprehend. “Just a little then,” she agreed, lowering her tiny maw, hovering over the refreshment, and sliding her tongue to absorb, then swallow, a few miniscule morsels. The taste was incredibly odd to her, nothing like water, a little bitter, a little rancorous, once the honeysuckle sweetness was swindled from her senses. Her lips drew back in a fine line, contemplating whether she’d enjoyed it and wanted some more, or if it was enough – because then her tiny little frame, never exposed to alcohol, processed it with aplomb, and her mind felt clouded, hazy, stupefied. It rattled her, like she was up in the atmosphere and had no way of coming down. Was this what Iskra meant about change? “Hm,” she considered, then moved to maneuver a little, always in motion, always in action, but the ground seemed difficult to manage, and she stuck one hoof out to the side like a drunken sailor, knees wobbly and shaking. “I feel dizzy,” was her final conclusion, swaying a little in the breeze, but not taking any more of the proffered intoxication.