"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.
I’d thought I could go back, back to where I had stacked rocks on top of rocks on top of their bodies, until there was a mound that hid the blood from my eye, but not my mind. I don’t know how long Amalrik stayed, or when, exactly, he carried off the metal wolf that had always moved alongside my father, but I don’t suppose that matters, just as it does not really matter when I’d left, either.
I hadn’t been back. That was the important truth.
My buck reassures me with a nudge from his damp, dark nose; it leaves a glossy mark on the smooth summer skin of my shoulder, where a small, white blip exists, a remnant of a past, and a girl, I thought less and less of. She, too, would have told me to go on, to reclaim my peace of mind from this place, to find, once again, solace and comfort beneath the dancing lights through the colored glass. From her, it wouldn’t be selfish, as it is with Duir, tired of feeling my melancholy through the binding which makes us one. Xynia would simply want me to happy.
Yet, I think of her, and the lines of her face that I’d once recalled so poignantly are blurred; her mane is still pale as moonlight, her eyes like stars swept down from above, but her smile is gone to the ebb of memory, and her laughter cast to the winds of time. The light that would have reached in, and cupped my own, shallow flame in its embrace is gone from the mental picture which I procure, and there is no strength left to Xynia’s love for me, or my love for her.
Maybe it was never love at all, then; merely a dream, warm and lazy, through which I’d spent a summer swimming. A dream that had suddenly become a loop of death; from the dead bodies on the field of war which had taken my naivety to the truth of what blood smelled like, to the loss of my mother’s nurturing, to the culling of my father by his own contraptions, and the swift, silent death of my Uncle, as if the scythe had struck them both in tandem.
It leaves me feeling reckless, and small. Duir does not understand, because he can only borrow the loss. It isn’t his. He cannot feel it, not like he would if he had been older, had known them as I had. It’s not strength that allows him to urge me onward, like he seems to think it is.
It’s coldness.
And I won’t be moved.
[ OOC: Midafternoon at the edges of the wood, near the Thistle Meadow or western border. ]
03-28-2017, 07:01 PM (This post was last modified: 03-28-2017, 07:10 PM by Gyda.)
Gyda
If time were not linear, but instead a series of images and actions that stirred round and round without end, one would wonder what to do with it all. However, you, Gyda, appear careless of time and its importance. To you, it is a fastidious chore, always keeping it, watching it, and wishing it away. Time. Even as you tell yourself that it is extraneous and ultimately uncertain, somehow it has lately become a subject of your concern. When you left the Dragon’s Throat you felt as though you’d been liberated from the constructions of time spent learning, growing, and promising to become a contributing member of society. Yet, time has once again found you, a whispering, nettlesome thing, in order to remind you that it waits for no one and nothing.
Perhaps that is why you waste away pretending to apply yourself to one thing or another, be it traveling or preparing, though you cannot say for what. Somehow all this wandering and wondering gives you purpose or reason enough to claim your own time well spent, even if you cannot always believe your own lies. That is why, on another day spent just like so many before, you find yourself exploring that which you do not know. You name trees that have already been named, try plants that have already been tried, and dream dreams that have already been dreamt. That is the purpose of you as a creature in a world where no one knows your name.
As you glide along the outer verges of the treeline, just beyond your favorite meadow, you regard the inner wood as a sentry, diligent and concentrated to a fault. During your time in the south you could recall soldiers doing much the same along those sandy fringes you left behind. However, it isn’t something you find yourself very partial to and you quickly retired to a leisurely stroll. That is, until you stumble upon an eccentric young stud shaded by the path ahead. He is much older than you and you find yourself uncertain, not like with Saoirse, for he had been a boy close to your own age. Funny too. However, this unicorn has seen more seasons and more truths than anyone you have met thus far. Maybe that is why you engage him from beyond, nervous and alert, but aware of common courtesy.
“Great minds think alike,” you proffer whilst noting the route you share. It isn’t until you are close enough to decipher the vivid gold of his eyes that you also catch sight of the young buck alongside him. Both are intricately gilded with matching marks that you can never hope to replicate and both are equally intimidating in their own right. Yet, instead of noticing these things and maintaining your simple sense of modesty, you stare unabashed, alternating from one to the other. It is then that you realize just how horribly plain you must seem by comparison, a stone next to diamonds. “My name is Gyda,” you manage while gawking at the two. They appear a fortress together, lost amid some battle you cannot see or hear. It is likely something you cannot understand at your age, having been fairly fortunate in life as it stands, but you reason with yourself that age does not determine one’s ability to listen or distract. Just as Saoirse did for you in the Meadow so recently, you decide to provide a buffer between the unicorn and his thoughts. “Could you use some company?”
In some deep part of your mind you know that you are unrefined and unaccustomed to proper protocol, but also that those things have never stopped you before.
The stranger that arrives alongside us is dark in color, and seems familiar, in the same way that so many of them do, around here. Maybe I’d glimpsed her in some gathering, or spectacle, but I don’t dwell long on it; she is merely a yearling, after all, and, glancing briefly at her in a side long, cold way, I wonder why it is Helovians are all so friendly.
Duir, less nervous about the filly than he is the grown horses, nervously drops behind some paces upon the realization he’s being gawped at, to watch the ongoing greeting from a safe distance. Predator, he warns me, because only wolves and hawk stare at something so intently; the notion of the girl being a threat at all earns a mental scoff from my behalf. A child, I remark, instead, drawing to mind images of himself, as a fawn, eagerly examining flowers, or Remy’s soft ears.
"Hello, Gyda," I answer, "I am Rikyn, and the coward back there is Duir."
And no, I do not want your company, I hold within, not wanting her girlish tears, or angry mother, either. Instead, I lie. It’s the least I can do. Duir, meanwhile, looks most offended, and hurriedly returns to my side, with a proud (and embarrassed) expression.
"We were just returning north," I tell her, because, well, fuck going to the Rotunda, as planned. I can’t deal with that yet. Who’s coward now? retorts my companion, from alongside me, my ears tilting backward, bent by withheld aggression. "Company would not be so bad."
Easing my pace to allow her to keep up more easily, remembering how my mother had simply surged ahead, without care for my smaller limbs, and inquisitive eyes. Though, currently, Duir and I seem to be the focus of the youth’s attention, there is no telling what may catch her eye (and slow her up) along the way. It’s not like it matters, if she holds me up – I don’t have anywhere better to be, after all, and a small voice is a good distraction from the big ones inside my head.
"Do you live nearby?" I inquire, both a means to keep the conversation going (subsequently, my ghosts at bay), and to ensure she’s not some vagrant child with a horribly worried, overprotective mother out there somewhere (liable to punch the shit out of me for being nice to her kid). I guess I could just ask if she’s actually allowed out here, but, I’m the cool uncle sort of guy, not the mother hen everyone wants to find their kid out alone in the woods. Besides, the kid is at least a year old, and I'd been out on my own, in the wild lands outside the safety of Helovia, at that age.