"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.
Ophelia's journey to the Throat had been successful, an event worthy of her time. The knowledge she had gained from Gaucho was vast, and his trust in her was growing. She was not two-faced in that she would betray this new friend, but she wouldn't lie and say that this bond would not be used for selfish gains. As with all friendships, they were symbiotic, feeding from each other's strengths and growing stronger. Selflessness was not a trait so easily given, not for the pale princess. Like a chess master, she moved her pieces across the board diligently, watchful eyes keeping track of counter moves. Everything was moving, and she had to stay in the middle of the fray.
As such, she traveled, body growing strong with her journeys. The crushing defeat from Deimos had been more than a little disheartening, but she had been working in the mean time. Silver armor was no longer quite a hindrance, and her magic was growing strong. Now, a light bounced around her forehead, held to her horn on a chain. It was bright, almost too bright, and she wore it proudly as a token of the Sun God's affections. The way back had lead to much anger, as she had held at bay Midas' pawns. She had thought better of Ghost once - thought her a wise girl. Perhaps she was just as foolish as the rest.
Irritated already at the looming black cloud that was Midas and his cronies in the Falls, she was ill prepared to learn that Confutatis, the bitch who would not die, had not learned her lesson. Ophelia had not considered her to be a stupid whore, but intellect was certainly lacking if she continued to throw rocks at a bee hive. At some point you deserved to get stung. Cloven hooves walked up the narrow path and past the looming sentinel, the landscape of her home inviting - a balm to her soul. Her indiscretions with the general aside, she found this place rather calming, peaceful in its mountain solace and cool breezes. Certainly it was much more comfortable than the blistering heat of the Dragon's Throat.
Spying Deimos, she approached, wondering how his wounds were healing. "I have secured more relations with Gaucho in the Throat and have manged to chase off a few of Midas' thieves," she said clearly. "I am sure there were more, but I will speak with Thranduil about that. How is everything here?"
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
A living blade, a scorching menace, a vile, deplorable, seething menace coiled and curled in the devil’s hands shirked all emotion except the timeless essence of contempt and loathing. It riddled along his skin, molded into his pelt, plunging monstrous animosity, shaping avaricious manipulation, rancorous ardor. Cold, chilling, wretched malevolence brewed and festered from the penetrating credence of the illustrious, potent pariah, hardened, primitive, and arcane. Serrated and immersed, unfurling, uncurling, inveigling iniquity, fanning entropy, bending into acrimonious surges and sinuous machinations, consumed by the ineptitude, the foolishness, the provocations landed and singed upon his hide. He’d met a number of idiots in his lifetime, parading morons, cavalcading ruffians, feverish fools, but never had he crossed so many barbs, so many wires, to chase after an empty-headed, thick-skulled dunce. No sooner had he carved armor away from a boney hag, did she attempt to abscond his son, his flesh and blood, his legacy. It was the daring, the audacity, the constant provocations she sculpted across their wake that truly unwound his taut, rigid motions into unyielding, unrelenting tides: he smoldered with havoc, devoured discord, harbored the possessive swings of bedlam, imagined her decapitated head on a platter, buried in the deepest banks of snow, forgotten boils of the stupid and inadequate. Retaliation and retaliation and retaliation, the renewing cycle of which monster was stronger, which monster was braver, which monster could ensue the most cruelty. What more did they have to do? What more did they have to say? Why did she continue her flailing, ridiculous attempts? Did she want to die (because he’d gladly serve the wench her demise, watch her sink into the farthest reaches of Hell, and smirk at her last, final breath)? Did she yearn to be their triumphant opus, the harem, the empire, the sovereign who crushed her bones and lungs, who flayed her flesh, who laid her to rest in the fierce friction, in the scintillating annihilation, of their fatal abhorrence?
Ophelia’s approach was almost unwelcome. His hardened iron craved villainy and violence, treachery and sedition, danger and hostility, and even as she delivered news of alliances going well, an armistice clearly established, a thwarting of more thieves (from the Falls, Midas’ goons), his muscles undulated, rippled, pierced with nefarious implications. His features were feral remnants, soulless ferocity brewed and smoldered from an unrelenting sway of unholy machinations, gathering and brooding, carnivore amore, predator grandeur, the imperious reverie of devils’ regimes. He nodded at her particulars, clenched his teeth together, grating upper jaw against lower mandible, narrowing his lacerating gaze towards the horizon, where he pictured the skull-heathen hung and swinging in the gallows, a jolly roger emblem notched upon their sentinels. Finally, when he could piece together a flat, even breath, one not hollowed or hallowed in absolute barbarity, he chiseled a piercing slate through the granules, antipathy and malice puncturing through each syllable, each word, each sound. “Confutatis tried to steal my son.” The notion of the little princeling in the witch’s clutches caused him to swallow one useless breath of summer air, and it stung deep into his throat, nestled like a wire, like a sword, bitter and anguishing. The Reaper’s stare fused finally upon the Forsaken, fire-forged friends in their unlikely ceasefire, searing, frustrated, vexed, blistering with savage temptation, with sinister invocations. “What would you like to do?” Because he knew what he wanted to do: perhaps stab her on her own armor, hoist her up by her own petard, watch the blood drip slowly from her wounds until she succumbed. What would make her go away, other than beautiful, sweet destruction?
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com image credits
Anger dark as thunder rolled from the behemoth's body, the glint of his blues eyes setting Ophelia on edge. She narrowed her gaze slightly, keeping her distance once her words were spoken. She knew very well the power he possessed as well as its potency, and she wanted to be well enough out of range in case he finally did snap. A wary gaze regarded him as he churned his jaw, the weight of his eyes resting on the horizon, and she tilted an ear back, listening over her body toward the subtle whir of the sentinels. What he said next, she was not expecting the least. She blinked, surprise and anger glossing her strange, two-toned gaze. First, Deimos had a son. With whom? How did he keep from...killing her while...? Not wanting to think more on that, she shook her head, shifting to the most important facet of this conversation.
Confutatis tried to steal his son. What a stupid bitch... Ophelia's ears flattened against her skull, lips recoiling from teeth at the very mention of her name. She snorted angrily, tail twitching behind her hocks. A rough glare swept over their land and the creatures within, safely going about their business. There was no fitting punishment for the attempted theft of a prince, and the desire to rake her crumbling flesh over hot stones left a pleasurable pit in her stomach. She glanced up at Deimos, surprised at his question, and she lifted her neck displaying newly formed muscles and pride. The pale princess thought for a moment on his question, dark thoughts flitting across her flirting mind.
"Let me take her on again," she said firmly, gaze unwavering as it snapped to his once more. "I did not get to finish our fight last time - the stupid whore was pregnant and ran off." Her words were spat with vehemence, twisting lovely, ethereal features into something horrifying and almost grotesque. Ophelia wore anger well, the light hanging from her horn pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart. "I want nothing more than to string her up by her innards and have the crows pick at her as she has picked at us, but she's too dim-witted," Ophelia barked. "Let me challenge for her to leave us alone, then I will go to the gods and ask them to enforce my terms. If we cannot destroy her, then she can toil pointlessly against forces stronger than our own."
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.