"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.
Change was always a strange feeling to Glasgow. No longer did she have to wake up at night, when the Edge was fast asleep. She could get up whenever she chose, and do whatever she wanted. It had only been a couple of days since she began her stay in the Basin, but it was welcoming. She had managed to find a small cave and make it her own – of course after making sure it wasn’t already taken. Then, after decorating it with a few different means of trying to keep warm, she decided that perhaps today would be a decent day to explore what else the Basin had to offer.
Her first stop was the Greenhouse that she had constructed. The glass was still as brilliant and beautiful as ever, which helped Glasgow understand the excitement that continued to bloom from Lena when she met her once again at the border. After inspecting the glass, even though she knew she’d be unable to fix anything if it went wrong on it, she felt satisfied enough to venture out further. There was a lake, and another small pool that she noticed. The lake was beautiful, with the way the light glinted off the dark water as the sun rose above the mountain tops. The scarred mare remembered the night of the festival, where stories were told beside it, and began to treasure a few of those happier memories.
Then, she moved on toward the place that looked like a pond. However, it seemed a bit mistier than she thought it would have been. Upon her approach, she felt the warmth that billowed out from it. Her pale ears perked forward as a wide grin spread across her scarlet lips. Glasgow almost couldn’t believe it. It was like this place had always been her solace – she just never knew it was here.
She lifted a blood-stained hoof and dipped it into the warm water, feeling the heat radiate through her tired and sore bones. A shiver of excitement ran down her pale spine before she stepped into it, carefully at first, before plunging herself deep into it to allow her bones some rest. Oh, how amazing the little things in life were. In all her time in Helovia, she had never experienced a hot spring like this one before. Not even in her travels before reaching this mystic land. She felt like indulging herself as she submerged herself and closed her scarred, glassy eyes in happiness.
03-15-2017, 12:57 PM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2017, 01:00 PM by Albrecht.)
Albrecht&Strom
Another loose cannon, gone bi-polar, Slipped down, couldn't get much lower
It’s no secret that the hot springs are the old stallions favorite haunt around the Basin. He’s here so often, in fact, that the only secret is how he manages to stay so distressingly filthy despite regular soaks in the rich mineral water. He’s even beginning to suspect that the other herd members are actively avoiding the area due to his regular attendance, so rarely does he ever encounter another soul enjoying the main attraction of the north, not that it bothers him any. Solitude suits the old black. He’s comfortable with silence, with doing nothing. When he’s in company he’s expected to adhere to certain niceties, not that he ever does, but he’s sure there’s an expectation of such things.
Anticipating another silent, solo dip, he has no reason to suspect the slight sloshing of the water as anything but natural movement - wind perhaps, seismic activity, a change in the flow of liquid from the small fissures at the bottom of the pools – there are plenty of rational explanations. So he tilts his head up and lowers his neck, allowing the heavy loop of wool he wears as both bag and scarf to slip over his head and land in a heap near the edge of the water before shaking himself and plodding down to the shallow end of the spring, intending to wade in until he’s deep enough to lay down and rest his bearded chin along the rim, worn smooth many years ago by the tread of countless hooves.
She heard the slight sloshing sound of the water as it rippled and moved, but the steam that lifted from the hot springs was too thick, too difficult to see through with the light glinting off it, that she thought little of it. Her eyes opened and she glanced around the thick, almost milky air, before lowering her head to where it hovered above the water. It was like a crocodile, the way she laid in the springs, her face barely above the water as it created a strange reflected illusion of the scarlet scarring of her features. She had left the piece that sat in place of her broken horn back at home in her cave. Here, she felt raw and at most herself. The cracked, broken horn adorning the rest of her features in a grotesque appearance.
She began to move further, to feel the warmth as it heated up her joints in a comfortable manner. However, as she moved further, she noticed a dark figure in the springs as well. Her head lifted, ears perking forward in surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be here, but then again, how could she not? At first, she thought about turning around, not making her presence known in the slightest. But this was the Basin, a new place for her with new opportunities, and she began to try and overcome her anxiety as her glassy gaze lingered on the man in the springs.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” She admitted, her gaze trailing away from him for a moment. “I apologize if I’m intruding, my name’s Glasgow. I’m new here.” She offered, her gaze shyly returning to the copper haired man.
Another loose cannon, gone bi-polar, Slipped down, couldn't get much lower
While the old stallion would like to blame the cover of thick steam rising across the surface of the water for his shudder of surprise when the mare speaks - She is the right color to blend in, after all. It’s not like he’s sporting any visual acuity at his age. - the likelihood that she has been visible all this time and that he’s simply let his anticipation turn to complacency in the comfort of familiar surroundings and never bothered to actually look in the first place is pretty damn high.
He pivots to face her, chagrin written across his weathered features and heart hammering with the aftereffects of adrenaline, neither of which find reason to lessen in the ghastly visage that meets him. Scars running from mouth to cheek, eyes that are hauntingly blue or milky white and run through with smaller, though no less gruesome scars themselves, and the fractured remnant of a second horn still jutting from the forward plane of her skull, the mare is a perfect image of some childhood monster said to steal away small children who disobey the wisdom of their parents. In contrast, her dialogue is polite and ordinary, her body language demure. The old black quiets himself, blinking away his instinctively blind assumptions and mentally asserting that eighteen years is much too old to still put stock in cautionary wives’ tales.
"Not intruding.” He answers, trying to assemble his face into an expression of either neutrality or innocent interest. "We’re just, well, lazing. It’s a specialty of ours.” One grey flecked ear tips back, tilting his head with it, to gesture at the pile of stained wool on the rim of the pool, his companion rooting his pear shaped head from the layers of fabric perfectly on cue, his tongue flicking wildly to create an image of the mare his tiny and nearsighted eyes can’t possibly detect.
Her adrenaline rushed over her as her awkwardness began to show. If her cheeks could blush from the embarrassment, she would have. As he turned to her, and let his eyes wash over her appearance, she took the moment to return the gesture by looking upon him. He seemed to react much like everyone else, his face finally falling flat at he spoke. Glasgow offered him a small apologetic smile as he continued. As he gestured to the stained wool in the edge of the warm water, her glassy gaze diverted to the small snake poking it’s head out.
“Oh! Is the snake your companion?” She began with a tilt of her head. “I’ve always liked them.” She murmured a bit quieter, settling down into a warmer channel of the hot spring as it bubbled and ran across her stained grey pelt. She waited quietly for a response, provided he’d give one, letting her gaze look out over the small clouds billowing from the heat of the springs, wondering just how much alike the two of them appeared.
It was no secret that the stallion looked old. She did too, and she wasn’t one to judge on it. Both old, skeletal-like creatures, Albrecht taking the mantle of the smelly old man while Glasgow took the mantle of the scary witch lady. What a sight that would have been. “Have you been here long?” She questioned quietly after a while, wondering if he might be a decent source of information on a herd she had little knowledge of.
Another loose cannon, gone bi-polar, Slipped down, couldn't get much lower
"He is.” The old stallion answers plainly, stepping into the springs with a sigh of contentment as the geothermally heated water washes against his legs and belly, furling his clumped and greasy beard like a tattered banner in strong winds. He folds his knobby legs and leans against the smooth stone rim of the same pool the mare has chosen, using their combined mass to displace the water enough to cover his tall, narrow withers and jutting spine, his chin resting happily on the sun-warmed ledge.
For a moment he’s too content to say anything else, his eyelids drooping and nostrils relaxing from their habitually angry pinching as warmth soaks into his muscles and banishes the unnatural, unconquerable chill from his bones, at least temporarily. It’s not until his companion drags himself across the greying bridge of the stallion’s nose that he opens his eyes again, watching the snake oscillate himself across the surface of the water, determined to meet this self-proclaimed snake lover.
"He doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.” The black warns, "But he’s harmless really. Like a legless puppy.” While silently he warns the python to be careful, though it does nothing to slow his approach or curb his excitement at meeting a prospective new friend, the positive experience of meeting Syrena still fresh in his young mind and now blissfully undistracted by shedding.
The little snake, still barely more than a foot in length but much thicker and more muscular than he’d been at hatching (and heavier, the stallion would complain), wriggles his way across the pool toward the mare, his nose tilted up and forked tongue working wildly against the air. It’s only his bonded’s deeply ingrained mistrust that alters the companion’s course from rushing directly into the mare to struggling his way onto the stone ledge near her front, his pear shaped head turning this way and that to look at her with his poor eyesight.
Releasing the held breath of a father’s tension for his charge, the old stallion glances back to the mare’s scarred face, letting the comforts of warmth and rest soften his usually abrupt responses. "A few years, I guess.”
He knows it’s been almost three years now, which should feel like a substantial amount of time, but the misfortunes that drove him here are fresh and raw as if they’d happened only this morning, still haunting his thoughts and his dreams. He shakes his head. "It doesn’t feel like it.”
As Albrecht answered her question of the python, she stepped back a small amount to allow him space to enter the springs. The heat shifted, channels moving through the water where veins stood that were significantly warmer than the rest of the water. Finding one of the heated spots, she aimed for her knees to be hit by it, relishing in the warmth and relaxation the sensation caused. As she did so, her pale eyes looked over the stallion as he found a comfortable spot, his chin resting on the ledge of the springs, all while his eyelids drooped. Though she noticed the boniness in his appearance, the way he held his body and the way he seemed to speak that screamed to her that he was old, too.
Though her ears perked forward as the snake made his way across the bridge of the stallion’s nose, swimming eagerly in the water toward her. Albrecht’s voice breaks the silence, and Glasgow’s pale ears flick forward as she lowers her head into the water toward the snake. Her nostrils flare as she aims to blow a soft amount of air at the snake in a joking manner. The snakes little tongue spits out occasionally before he finds his way toward the ledge. “I don’t mind.” She announces, peering at the snake and lifting her head to the ledge if he wished to sprawl his lithe body across her own face.
But then Albrecht answers her question of how long he’d been in the Basin, and she finds her pupiless gaze returning to the copper-haired man. “Time flies when you get old.” She remarked, a small teasing grin hinting at the corners of her own sharp-lined face. Her scars stuck out further now as the water matted her fur to her face, her body not used to the chill in the Basin, so it managed to fluff her out more than it would have otherwise. “I spent quite a few years in the Edge, myself. I was a Glazier there before coming here. I made the Basin’s greenhouse.” She remarked with a soft smile finding her lips. “What do you do here?” She tilted her head slightly at him, wondering what had drug him to Helovia of all places, but refraining from asking such a deep question.