"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.
02-10-2017, 09:49 AM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2017, 10:28 AM by Beloved.)
She is not sure why she has remained, even after the gathering of the mortals reveals itself to not the presence of a power, or a trinket, but a coupling’s session, contrived by some fool and his equally foolish woman – or so Beloved thought of it all, anyway. Standing where she had quietly meandered upon the revelation of what the event was, the faintly giggling, tittering demoness watches the ongoing interactions about her.
Regardless, the wicked one was a creature of fate, having vast faith in all things to love her, and keep her safe; this also entailed placing her where Beloved was meant to be, and if this child’s dating game was her destiny, so it would be. So, while some might grow anxious as they waited, Beloved was simply herself; a pale beacon of horror and madness, a wraith among the living.
And, apparently, a single lady.
So, when it becomes apparent that all the individuals filtering through the wood have made their way to others, Beloved starts tittering a nervous sort of laughter, and feels vastly offended. How dare they ignore her splendor! She thinks, with narrowed eyes, admiring the paired groups from her distance, her pale pink tongue touching gently her lips in longing, a nickered call cast into the misty allure of the grove.
03-01-2017, 03:04 PM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2017, 03:05 PM by Bartholomeo.)
BARTHOLOMEO
CRACK!
The whip resounds, signalling the end of the round. With a suave smile to his lady partner, the stallion moves on to the next one. He casts a furtive glance around for his sister and her date but to his deep concern, they seem to have disappeared from the gathering. Displeasure darkens his features and he contemplates following the black bastard to put him in his place and remind him to keep his filthy hands off the pirate's sister - he's quite sure he would be able to, as despite the black's size, he still looked young enough to be sucking on his mother's tit.
Bartholomeo resists, though. It would be unsporting to stand up his date, even though he dearly wishes to tear apart Aelfwine's would-be lover. So he schools his face into its easy, rogueish smile and heads towards his next date, trying to keep his mind away from what his sister might be doing at this very moment.
His next partner is small, pale, with an aura of danger. Bartholomeo approves, and wanders closer. "Beloved, is it?" he questions in his warm, accented hum of a voice. "I'm Bartholomeo. I hope that glare isn't for me." He offers her a wink, having noticed the narrowed eyes that she appears to be aiming at the gathered crowds.
The man who arrives to greet her at last is tall, and reeks of the sea. The demoness lifts her haunting eyes to meet his green, which seem, in their depths, restless and dark. This initial impression lends her to believe the pirate is of a much more malevolent nature than he truly is, and though her perturbation at being jilted by her first partner still lingers, it is very quickly washed out by interest in the man before her.
He saunters near, and she draws even closer, her hostile gaze becoming the softer, alluring guise of a feline, her claws deceitfully retracted; close enough to brush his skin with her muzzle, if she wanted, she refrains, a faint chiming of giggles becoming the only true bridge between she, and the dual toned pirate.
"Yes," she answers to the name which she knows to be her own, tail seductive reaching along her sides in slow swishes, gently wafting her perfumes towards him (a beast of instinct, as we are all, she thinks, with a wicked chortle), "and no. Beloved has been alone until now, you see. The first never came. We had begun to ponder…alternatives."
Like gutting the closest couple to her, for instance, but Bartholomeo didn’t need to know that, did he?
[ OOC: omg I think I got her out from under the rock she was hiding beneath? maybe? ]
03-15-2017, 03:26 PM (This post was last modified: 03-25-2017, 04:39 PM by Bartholomeo.)
BARTHOLOMEO
The first thing he notices about her is that she smells divine. The pirate likes to think that he has an iron control over his more basic urges - he might enjoy indulging in them but he doesn't allow them to control his life - yet he can't help the feral widening of his nostrils and upwards flick of his top lip as she swings her tail to disperse her scent. He gives a small, self-conscious cough to hopefully hide the sudden darkening of lust in his face, sheepish embarrassment swiftly cloaking anything beneath.
The second thing he notices is that she refers to herself in the third person, and that's always a worry. It is a sure sign of somebody being a few cakes short of a picnic, but Bartholomeo is not the sort to judge. He quirks a brow, amused and confused in equal measure, but fights to prevent any inner thoughts from stealing across his face as he replies in his usual hearty, accented voice. "What a silly man, leaving you hanging," he says with sympathy edged in his tones and a comforting smile on his lips. "Luckily your second date was far more reliable!" Another suave wink from the chimeric stallion, still trying desperately not to breathe in too hard else he lose himself to the perfume.
"So, tell me about yourself?" He cocks his handsome head, ears pricked forwards in search of a reply.
The wicked gleam of her eyes grows as her ploy lures more than just suave smiles and winks to the expression of the suitor, her gaze meandering from the bashful glance away from his lustful stare upon her flesh, to the flesh of his own. Pale upon the crown, black upon the rest, her eyes trace the branches along the flesh of his neck with an eager eye, wondering if the salt smell which lingers about him now is stronger, still, were she to embed her lips among the tassels his knotted mane.
Babbling giggles in remark to his jest on the behalf of her never-arrived compatriot, the white witch flutters her lashes, and continues the slow sway of her banners upon her sides, her head occasionally slowly drifting in mirror of the motions of her dock. When he asks her about herself, the dame’s incessant laughter hums into a purr of pondering, her dual-toned eyes fluttering to the ceiling of the world, before landing back upon the stag.
"We are of the mountains," she says, gesturing north and westward, towards the Basin, not caring if he knows there is a land there, or not; her child-like voice sings and floats among occasional giggles, "Beloved is a blade there, among several others. And you, Bartholomeo? What does a man like you do?"
you've lost your demon.
Tag Beloved, please!
Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
That tail of hers continues to swing and curl, dispersing that scent ever further. The pirate grits his teeth and steels his resolve; he cannot show how tantalised he is! With a firm cough to distract himself, Bart focuses on her face rather than any other part of her, as much as his own traitorous body tries to lure his gaze downwards. It's alarming how weak he's grown in recent years. He'd had no trouble being faithful to his wife for many years, denying even the most beautiful of mares when they turned their charms on him, but since she died and he turned to an endless line of faceless lovers to satisfy the urges of his body and to try and fill in the hole in his heart, he's found himself getting ensnared far more easily by the opposite sex.
She gestures in the vague direction of the north, where the stallion has heard there's a snowy herd. Her description of herself as a blade makes him think she's a warrior, which is interesting, and a good talking point. "I'm a warrior of the World's Edge herd. I've fought my whole life, as you can probably see by my impressive array of scars." He grins and splays himself to show every scar that litters him; each one has a story, a history, no matter how minor it may seem. "What's the north like? I'm afraid I'm no friend of snow and ice - I only feel at home when there's a sea breeze." Which the Edge provides in bundles.
The cursed doll holds her eye upon him, the suitor, her flirtatious flutters of tail and lashes intentional, and carefully placed and metered. Though she is as sure to attempt to steal his life as she is his free time this evening with more pleasant things (for him, anyway, in more than one way), it’s ever difficult to deduce. The witch is as fickle as the wind, cold as its arc through the tundra.
It is fitting that she resides to the north.
Indeed marked by scars, in the ways she has retained perfection, her eyes meander across his figure as it is displayed, her dainty limbs moving beneath her, applying outward curvature to her proper bits; slipping from behind, the scant view of her round haunches reveals itself about her small shoulder, her tail still swaying, its Arabian arc poised toward heaven, her hooves each placed for poise.
But the grin, wicked and malformed, which eases across her lips, reveals the truth: she is no maiden, or angel cast from above. She is that which has arisen, from the deep, cold dark; a shadow given form.
"Much as the Ocean is. Cold and proud," she deems her home, child’s voice breathy, split by laughter, "its heart of water unfreezing. At night, the sky is often lit by color, rather than stars."
"Like the mountain, too, the sea holds many secrets," she whispers, a sudden glimmer in her eye seemingly arisen from the incantation of the mention of the deep ocean’s companions (the brine and breeze), "dark as night at its depths, be it below waves or stone. If Beloved were to die, she would find either a suitable bed."
"What is it you fight for, Green-Eyes?" she questions, last, not truly curious but to mock him, mentally or aloud, depending on the foolishness of his reply. Family, honor, love; what were these things to the wicked one but fleeting illusions, held fast to the strands of this mortal frame? Yet, it is what they lifted their swords for, these day-walkers, entrenched in the rain filled, muddy ditch of their short lives, too blinded by the grit and downpour to see the shadow that lie beneath, and from which it fell, from above.