"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.
10-30-2016, 12:38 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2016, 12:42 AM by Mercutio.)
M E R C U T I O
He shouldn't be here. Somewhere deep in his gut Mercutio must have known that if he'd wanted to keep his life as it had been (as he thought it should be) then he should never have set out to find the stretch of shore that led to Dragon's Throat. And yet here he was, tall frame moving through the grassland that faded away before the coming of winter. The dry grasses were brittle and rustled as his iron-colored legs pushed them aside, as the salty wind that rolled off the sea buffeted them about so that they waved in rolling patterns. Above the sky was a bleak grey, threatening another orangemoon storm but not quite yet ready to break; Mercutio should have taken it as a warning, stormy weather ahead, and safety behind you. You're a selfish bastard, Mercutio, and now would be a wise time to break your promise.
But he had promised—promised Cera that he would come and see the Dragon's Throat, see him. As one who had determined long ago that looking deeper into himself would only bring about a wave of shame and self-loathing, Mercutio was determinedly not looking any deeper into that nagging little feeling that he wanted to keep that promise entirely too much. More than he'd wanted anything in a long time. He wanted to see Cera. He wanted to talk to him, to know more about him. He wanted to hear that laugh and see that honest smile that stretched all the way up to sparkling green eyes.
Alas, the big grullo stallion had quite a talent for lying to himself, for ignoring anything deeper than his own skin and so let him think that the compulsion to travel south was nothing but an idle whim. After all, it's not like he had anything better to do, and the weather was getting colder. As he left grass behind and found himself on a long stretch of wind-buffeted beach, Mercutio had put himself in an easy mood and summarily dismissed any trace of concern from his mind or manner. The grey skies helped, especially as they didn't loose any rain, but like blue skies made other's optimistic, the grey match his cynical humors. Honest skies. he thought. Now his amber eyes followed the clouds out and over the choppy sea to find the rise of the island in the distance. Cera had said something about a bridge, but Mercutio saw none, and so after a deep chuckled he lifted his head to give a bellow, hoping it would carry over the distance.
Yea, 'spite of show and shallow wit, and sentimental drool,
I know myself a hypocrite, a coward, and a fool.
11-08-2016, 07:03 PM (This post was last modified: 11-08-2016, 07:04 PM by Cera.)
Cera When you miss me close your eyes, I may be far but never gone
With Sikeax's ascension to Sultana, and her iron-fisted will regarding the training of the medics beneath her, there is nobody for Cera to turn to when he is in need of healing now. He is careful to avoid his daughter as best he can, to spare her the sight of the gore that still litters his thin frame. He prays she will never have the nightmares he had as a colt, watching his father return from war, never sure if he'd see the Gallant on the horizon again. If he would be left alone, orphaned for the second time in his life. Even if she will cry and whine when they reunite over his avoidance of her, she will forget in time. It will be meaningless in the grand scheme of keeping her innocence in tact, gently cover her beautiful eyes with his scarred and bloodied hands, whispering into her ear that the world was good and beautiful even as he watched it burn from his own hollowed eyes.
But the world spins on, and his injuries cannot be tended to and catered after. Patrols must go on. Metal must be forged. And though he fears more and more for his sight as each hour and day goes by that he can hardly bear to open it, he lurches against the collar around his neck, dragging the weight of his knowledge behind him even as it strangles him. The only benefit is that his wounded demeanor and physicality keeps everyone else far away from him, not wanting to talk to him about what happened when they already heard the vague news of what transpired between he and Sohalia. Already dealing with the throes of their own grief as it was. So instead he flies, because he can't stand to be shackled to the earth below him. To force a nod to those he passes on the borders, hiding his eye the best he can. He hates how he caused such a rift in his family, and while he and Sohalia were working on mending it...his temper had never escaped his tender grasp before, and he was left unsure how to handle the fallout.
A distraction comes in the force of a bellow across the waters, and Cera scans the horizon, almost hoping someone else is closer. That he doesn't have to encounter a stranger looking like the omega of a wolf pack, beaten and shackled. It is not how he wants to portray the Throat. But he can at least fly by and check, right? He didn't necessarily have to stop, surely someone else would be around by then. But as he crossed the waters on wide angel wings, his stomach dropped to his hooves to see Mercutio's familiar blue grullo hide against the pale backdrop of grey-washed sand. For a moment he wants to turn on swift wing and leave him, incapable of crossing the waters alone. But the other part of him that remembered the evening he'd spent with Mercutio, laughing and playing in the water, tugs insistently in his stomach. Like a string being pulled, drawing him back to Mercutio helplessly.
He hardly even knows the stallion. Cera's past is just as unknown to the unicorn standing down below, waiting for him, just as he had promised. And Cera's heart gives in with that reminder, Mercutio's promise ringing in his ears like a distant bell. He descends, tired limbs weak as he limps towards the royal stallion. Even as he prepares himself for Mercutio's reaction to his appearance, he can't help the small smile that builds on his pale lips. Mercutio was infectious, capable of making Cera smile even when he didn't feel like he had anything left to be happy about.
"You came," he notes with joyful warmth, edging closer to him. Normally Cera would offer his soft muzzle in greeting, but it is still partially stained with blood that he could not properly wash off when Ilaria would not help him - punishment for his idiocy, and for leaving her behind to pursue said idiocy. Her healing talent could only do so much, after all. And she would happily saddle him with the affliction of persistent flies and itchy skin beneath dried blood if it meant teaching him a lesson. "I know, doesn't look as beautiful with this storm heading our way," he laughed apologetically, his one good eye crinkling sheepishly. Maybe Mercutio would cross the bridge and explore the Throat with Cera? His stomach squirmed happily at the thought.
A grey body that stood under grey skies should have been a gloomier sight, but that was the funny thing about Mercutio's particular brand of cynicism: he never expected sunshine and rainbows and so was never disappointed when he didn't get them, and after all he didn't see what harm could a few rain clouds ever do anyway. His call rang over the water and faded and as the vagabond listened to the silence echo back he kept his eyes on the horizon. Soon enough Mercutio spied a figure aloft, no more that a flitting dot against the cloudy backdrop.
At first he couldn't be sure it was Cera and wondered idly if there were more pegasus in this land than he'd counted in. Meeting the Golden prince in the Threshold had been something of a novelty. And in the meadow... Perhaps too well he recalled the look, the feel of the feathers when they'd brushed so playfully against him. They were an utter fascination to the ground-bound unicorn. He wondered what it might be like to fly.
Mercutio shifted his footing on the dull sandy beach as Cera (for sure enough it was the Golden Prince) drew near, turning to keep him in sigh as he swooped low and landed on the beach. Mercutio didn't smile. His eyes had been drawn immediately to the new wounds that marred the painted skin and a flare of concern constricts his board chest. He had never liked to see creatures in pain, especially not creatures like Cera--the sweet, the gentle. "You came," "Aye." he said with a curt nod, but he was already stepping forward with a expression crossed with concern. He moved quickly, efficiently, swiveling his crowned head to asses the damage: the burned flank, the gouges running down his back, the bloody wound beneath the eye. Mercutio stops there, puzzled, because despite it all, Cera is smiling at him.
Smiling? They had been close, almost nose to nose when Mercutio was looking him over with a battle-trained clinical efficiency, but now the taller man pulled back the better to see his whole face. Now that Mercutio had focused on the expression rather than the injury the concern in him calmed to bafflement. Had he just been talking about the weather? A chuckle rose from deep in his chest as his dark head shoot in disbelief. The hurts were at least several days old, but that didn't stop Mercutio from being a little impressed.
"Well damn, Sunshine, I leave you alone for a few days and look at the mess you get yourself into..." He grinned softly. Like the old scars had before, these new woulds were such a puzzle, such a contrast to Cera's smiles and laughter. With a sigh, Mercutio's eyes turned briefly to the water and then he was reaching for Cera, grabbing a mouthful of main to tug the winged man along with him. "C'mere then, brave the cold again."
He pulled until they were knee deep in the chilly surf and het to work, speaking smoothly in a low, comforting voice: A nurse trying to calm a patient while we worked. "Have you lost vision in that eye, there? We'll have the get it good and clean to see what we've got to work with. Now, the salt will sting, but it'll be a good clean way to start the healing so hold as still as you can." He dunked his own muzzle into the surf and pulling up a good amount of water in his beard, pressed it ever so carefully agains Cera's cheek to start loosening up the dried blood and dead skin there. He rubbed his lips clinically along there area before pulling away to rinse and wet his muzzle again. It had been a habit, long ago to keep his patients talking as he worked, to distract, to calm--and so Mercutio spoke again. "Easy now, we're getting there. Now, tell me, what kind of monster it was that put these marks on you?"
Yea, 'spite of show and shallow wit, and sentimental drool,
I know myself a hypocrite, a coward, and a fool.
Cera When you miss me close your eyes, I may be far but never gone
In the turbulent storms of Cera's recent life, Mercutio is shelter and comfort. He is the eye of the storm, where Cera finds peace and joy in the snatches of moments the two have together. Even if it means he must step forth back into the storm the minute his paladin releases the hold he has on the Prince. It's worth it if only to see that charming smile, to feel genuine laughter bubble in his throat for a few moments longer. Mercutio was the umbrella Cera huddled beneath, painted yellow like the sun to fool the Golden into thinking everything was sunny and bright once more. But here, with Cera decorated in the war colors of his own blood, Mercutio does not smile. Cera's trembling lips falter to see the stallion's crinkled face, fearing the worst. Afraid that instead of worrying for Cera's health, Mercutio is instead being shown the discord happening in this herd that the Prince had been wanting so badly to convince him to join. That he is misrepresenting the herd he has lived in all his life. Or, somehow worse (for Cera has never loved anything more than his herd, until now), that Mercutio doesn't care.
But as the stallion retreats, puzzled by Cera's smile, the Prince realizes that he had just been clinical. That Cera is surprising him now, with the kindness and joy he's expressing in the midst of all this pain. Cera can't help the small laugh that he tries to muffle at seeing Mercutio's surprised expression, fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes as weight lifts from his heart like a soft sigh. It's no grand affair, what Mercutio does for him. There is no drama, no excitement. No momentous shifting of the burden from Cera's shoulders. It's easy, it's peaceful. Mercutio simply...looks at him, and it's like everything else falls away. Because Cera just wants to unravel this complicated man, maybe even wants to be unraveled himself, and he doesn't know why.
Cera's grin is some hybrid of sheepishness and foolish adoration at Mercutio's disbelieving laughter. He can't help the boldness that swells within him and he hums as if thinking deeply over the grullo's words. "Hmmm, guess that means you shouldn't leave me alone then, huh?" A sassy smile plays on his pale lips, and he can almost hear Ilaria's gleeful laughter even with her being miles away. Though it was quickly wiped from his face as the stallion took charge (and no he wouldn't admit how his skin crawled and prickled with warmth at that) and hustled him into the frigid water. Cera grit his teeth against the cold, giving Mercutio his best puppy eyes with only one of them really working.
"This wasn't my idea of a nice date, though you may have been confused considering our last meeting," he murmured through chattering teeth with a little snicker. It was easier to flirt than focus on how he was unbearably hot even in the cold water just listening to Mercutio's smooth, deep voice hum softly at his ears. Cera had never understood the tale of temptation until he'd met this man. Oh but thank the Gods for their deliverance of free will because Cera fully intended to utilize it and send himself spiraling down into the abyss of lasciviousness that Mercutio represented. Maren bless his soul.
"I don't think so," he replied softly in answer to Mercutio's question, but the nervous warble of his voice belied his fear that he had. He winced at the cold water but Mercutio was right as always, and he could feel the salt slowly making its way into the wound and cleansing it - even if it hurt like a bitch, making the golden paint hiss through his teeth uncomfortably. But the knight knew the discomfort that would come, had even warned him, and distracted the Prince sufficiently with his question. Even if it made Cera go still, the wound on his soul still too fresh to remember as he cast his good eye down to where their knees sank into the water. Incapable of looking at Mercutio when he confessed.
"A...friend, actually, though the term is tentative at best any longer." Even if Sohalia had explained, it didn't really change anything, and there hadn't been enough time to heal and reconnect yet. "It was I who was the monster in this scenario, Mercutio. Truly you shouldn't be helping me," he confessed with tight, purposefully emotionless voice. What would Mercutio think of him after this? If he ever heard the full story? "She...hurt me, very badly. Abandoned all of us, and came back with trumpets blaring and nobody even questioned why she did it twice. Why she slept with another stallion, why she abandoned her daughter in another herdland, why she didn't come home in the first place." A huff escaped his nostrils, frustrated now to imagine all of it over again.
"I was just so furious, that she wouldn't even apologize or explain herself. That she thought she was too damn good to repent. I was already in a rage over something else, a coward who would not face me on the battlefield, and I...well, I suppose you can imagine the rest." Voice fell soft and hushed at the end, ashamed of his own inflamed emotions and volatile reaction in the wake of everything. Fearful that Mercutio would not like him as much (and what a childish thought that was) to know that Cera was not as sunny and kind as he may have thought. That Cera was a fighter, a killer, just as much as he was a creator and a healer.
Mercutio may call him Sunshine, but the term applied better to the stormy man than it could to Cera, recently.