"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.
Pressure builds inside him. Eats away from the inside, as magma devours iron, acid scourges the flesh. He thinks it fury, but he cannot place it; he growls deep in his throat, but it does not soothe the fire in his breast. He lashes the tree; he stomps the tranquil waters, pristine in their perfection, scornful of his unrest with its careful stillness. Water flies around him; crystals of it splash and cling to his coat, the ends of his mane, the wisp of a beard. He remains angry, passionate with something he cannot place.
Around him, the scene is quiet and contrary to him, opposite of him, demeaning of him. Birds twitter—but they’re quiet in their tittering. The wind blows—but it’s a gentle caress of a breeze, the sort that dances around the ear and plays with the locks jumbled around the eyes. Baby things crawl around his hooves, tiny mice that emerge from their hidden den, days old and just dressed in their first soft coat of life; little tadpoles darting about the shallows of the crystal pool; petals of some tree or some plant wafting about, getting caught and stuck in his feathers, landing lightly upon mirror-smooth surface of the water. His fire—the fire burning within a furnace that has trouble keeping this fury at bay—it wishes to destroy this scene, to bathe it in venom, flay it at the stake, end its mocking existence. For heburnsand he’s haunted by it, and he is sick of its haunting.
“Come here,” he growls—spits into the calm and the tranquility. His tone is biting; there is no mistake of it. There is only one who has bended the knee to him; one who has pledged themselves his loyal servant. He is angry, and she will fix it if it’s the last thing she ever does in his shadow.
@[Jorogumo]
talk talk talk
R E G I N A L D
You will lose your throne to the chosen ones The chosen ones will rise
morguefile
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Jorogumo remained still. Her pale eyes remained transfixed upon a spider weaving it’s web. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched her favored predator move about it’s business. Nowadays it was rare for her to find a moment of peace without memories or emotion pulsating through her mind. The insidious power that ravaged Helovia still remained out of her grasp. All of her greed and gluttony drove her in hot pursuit of what she believed to be a coveted prize. The spider would find her prey before those boys that tried to play kings. It made her laugh at even the thought. One day she would ensnare them in her web and suck them dry. Then she’d present them before the serpent. She’d prove that only she was worthy to stand beside him.
Her tranquility is shattered by a familiar voice. Jorogumo closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. No matter her loyalty to Reginald, she still craved her solitude. Despite herself, she walked toward his voice. As of late her desires had less been of pleasing him but something more carnal and primordial was arising in her. Jorogumo understood the cravings of the flesh. She hadn’t even a taste of it but she still hungered for it. There was only one she would so willingly give herself to, but he had displayed nothing but obliviousness.And I had come to believe males were nothing more than horny fools, She thought to herself as she stopped before Reginald.
“Something ailing you?” Her voice was a purr oozing with her attempts at seduction.
01-06-2015, 02:23 AM (This post was last modified: 01-06-2015, 02:49 PM by Reginald.)
The air thrums mauve around him, fluttering and pulsating—the heartbeat of some great, napping beast, submerged underneath a pristine waterline. The chittering of birdsong whirls in his head, becoming a panic, a harrowing tune; he feels the discarded petals fall across his back, down his side, his skin sensitive with some anticipation. She finally arrives, sliding from the shadow of some dew-laden bough; he looks at her, scowling venom into her eyes, for her appearance alone, prompt as it is, gives no satisfaction for him.
“Hush,” he spits; he paces something feverish, stalking the shore of pool, the tips of willow branches reaching down for him, caressing the madness bursting from his skin. “I did not ask for your words.” His words slip from his tongue, gravel in the back of his throat; a growl that rumbles and threatens to throttle that insolent purr of hers, that infuriating whine that taunts him, or beckons. He does not know which. He ponders this madness, the rage that her appearance has brought to him. He strives to remember—what was it that she has done to him, for him, that angers him so? Her transgressions slip from the eyes of his mind, pushed away by the allure of Birdsong matters; for this is the first season where he has breathed in the heat of springtime, the heat that so many other lesser creatures bask in, revel in, rejoice. He is oblivious to the absolute success of her gambit; he is ensnared by something.
I have something for you to do, he thinks, the words in his mouth forming, ready to be unleashed, to lace direction for his little spider bitch to dance about his whim. But he breathes it again, the springtime that threatens to clog his voice, his lungs with cotton—a gentle sort of suffocation. He grinds his teeth; the curve of her shoulder becomes apparent, the line of her back, straight and sturdy, sloping toward a well-formed quarter etched from obsidian. His head swims; his vision goes mauve and the world freckles with bloodspots. He is suffocating, after all.
“Come here,” are the words he says instead—whispers against the grain of his original intention, snarls against the bubbling, bubbling, bubbling of something that must be unleashed, something he must let loose, something that begs for freedom. His pacing ceases; suddenly he is beside her, teeth rushing for the poll of her neck, for he must touch her somehow; his body must be in proximity to hers, and he is not a gentle creature.
@[Jorogumo]
talk talk talk
R E G I N A L D
You will lose your throne to the chosen ones The chosen ones will rise
morguefile
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
01-07-2015, 07:53 PM (This post was last modified: 01-14-2015, 03:29 AM by Jorogumo.)
He told her to hush. He told her to hush. The spider clenched her jaw as she felt that familiar wave of rage come over her. Did he think her to be some girl? Jorogumo had come at his call and yet he spoke to her like she were some child. If he didn’t want her words she saw little purpose in being there. She could return to her viewing of her small arachnid friend. She would punish him tenfold for how easily he spoke down to her. Reginald’s little boys might scamper about at his very command and tolerate such easy dismissal, but she was the motherfucking queen. Jorogumo would ensnare her serpent in her web and make him work for what previously might’ve been presented to him.
Again he ordered her to come but this time she remained still. Her pale eyes burrowed into him with an unreadable expression. Jorogumo wouldn’t hand herself over so easily. But he was upon her and he felt him dig into her pole. She jerked away as violently as he had approached. The spider wouldn't be a blushing maiden. She wouldn't be an easy conquest. Her white flag wouldn't be lifted until her every defense had been stripped.“I actually think you are the one that needs to come.” Her words came out sly and she felt a smirk pass over her lips. No ounce of control could keep the laughter from her lips. Rage was replaced with sheer pleasure at her own wit. Ah, she really was a brilliant mind. And she hoped that it would make Reginald tremble seethe rage and desire. Ever since they were children she favored her games of cat and mouse. She would play the part of prey. Jorogumo would hide her fangs behind the curves of her body. She glanced over at her king with a light in her eyes that dared him to try again.
The brim of his cauldron overflows; the lid blows from the pot of boiling tar and brimstone. It is unleashed, he is unhinged finally, for it must be destiny that he would be so ignited.
She pulls herself out of his teeth; bristling black fur is stuck in-between the long white fangs, her taste lingering far too long against his tongue, clogging the back of his throat, gagging him. He touched her—the touch was supposed to promise the release of this pressure, the agony of this heat within! I does no such thing, and worse, she’s speaking again, things flying from her mouth in a display of useless stupidity, fiery insolence. He had thought they were passed this willfulness of a slave girl—what sort of pride does she expect herself to hold? For she belongs to him, and he did not ask for her words; here they tumble, and she is away from him, where she should not be, where the seeping fire of his belly cannot reach her, claw her, reel her in its devastating, agonizing blaze of black smoke--
“SHUT UP!!” he finally shouts, unable to keep the roar sealed behind his lips: he hates her. He flies at her again, and this time his rage will not be denied: hooves flail her, teeth bite at her, tug her skin, endeavor to spill the blood and taste its mediocrity. Kicks are thrown and her body is pummeled with the strength of his rage, blind and wild—and none of it helps, none of it eases the pressure in his breast, the bubbling of his gut, the rising levels of something that will surely explode if he doesn’t do—if he—
It is finally Nature’s hand that steps in and saves the black widow’s life—for he had been working to end it, such was his frustration, his wrath and the need for something that he does not understand. It is a small hand, cool and porcelain, that caresses the broken mind of the Grey-Eye’d prince—twists it under quick and knowing fingers, long and gentle against his consciousness, forming a plot, an idea that strikes him as it has never struck before. He stops trying to maul his mistress, trying to close her mouth once and for all; he leaps at her, onto a back that slopes gracefully toward a well-formed quarter etched from obsidian. His body is lost from all control, and Nature’s hand wields it as a puppeteer masterfully wields the strings and wires of their grey-eye’d quarry, bending some, twisting others, flexing and arching the wooden cross to fulfill the sacrament of every mortal being, etched into stone since the beginning of time.
He is not a gentle creature.
@[Jorogumo]
talk talk talk
R E G I N A L D
You will lose your throne to the chosen ones The chosen ones will rise
morguefile
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
It was over. Her breaths were coming in heavily. Portions of her body still were oozing blood. Other parts still ached. Her game had been thwarted and it enraged her. Yet she was craving more. Unadulterated loathing burned inside her chest. Beside still was fiery adoration. The spider wasn’t some common whore to be mounted and thrown aside when her uses were over. She glowered at Reginald with every bit of hatred she had. Part of her wished to stalk away back to the spider she had previously been watching. But that would involve rolling over in submission. She wouldn’t let herself be dominated. But yet it pleased her. Everything was so confusing and she found herself for once completely unsure of herself. Even when she was naught more than a lost babe, she was able to find herself. She was able to see her desires. Now she was scrambling through the dark trying to grapple onto any form of dignity left.
She shook her head and finally laughed softly at all of this. Reginald might have done the act of a man but he was still a boy. “Does that satisfy you?” She hissed focusing her gaze in on the gray boy. “Some say this is the passage into manhood, but, Reginald you’re nothing more than a colt. Your little hissy fit proved that.” Much like him she had pent up desire and cravings. Unlike him though she was patient, an opportunist. Truly she had gotten what she wanted but she wouldn’t give him the gratification of that. The spider would drag him down with her and she would show what a pathetic creature he had been. "Throw another fit if it offends you. But that would just prove my point."