"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.
When I was very young, I pretended the sea was my friend. I would chase the waves from the shore, leap at them when the tide drained them away, collect the tiniest seashells I could find, then rush back when they returned and the beach was flooded with light and foam. I was a lone child in a very small island and any such pleasure was the sole reason for my existence – I would adorn myself with seaweed and hide in the pools and shallows made by the corals along our shoreline, I would spend hours at an end in the water, until my mane was matted and dry from the salt, and when I learned to fly and took to the skies, I would skim at the surface of the sea the way I saw seagulls do.
It did not surprise me, then, when she was born consecrated to the river we all revered. She was of the land, natural and wild, savage and ruthless, my daughter, and so very conscientious of the caste she was born to, the caste I was inferior to: dark where I am light, all the dusk and mysteries of the river in those golden eyes I was quite helplessly in love with.
Water, I heard an aged shaman say once, water is the essence of life, the soul without which we cannot exist, water and breath...
Perhaps it was because of her that I was there. I felt tired; I had not flown in a long time, and my wings felt heavy, clumsy, even, which was unusual for me. I had flown quite a bit during the pregnancy, it was never that, but a land-bound daughter was limiting, to say the least, and after she disappeared…
I made straight to the sea, whether by accident or some subconscious intent I could not say.
The wind felt warm, warmer than usual, and it felt so good I almost lost control entirely. It was familiar in a way most things in this place were not, and so welcome I almost wept for it, which was pathetic. The sea lapped at my feet as it always did, hot as the tongue of a leopard, and the sound of laughter surprised me seconds before I realized it came from me.
Gods, I needed this. I needed the sea, the heat, the sun and the utter dryness of the desert – the desert…
She was born in the desert. Perhaps then – but no, why would she be here, when she could be anywhere? And, she has no wings – and more than a cursory glance at the few horses scattered around this land told well enough the sort of creature expected here. Which… wasn’t surprising, after what we found at the margins of Iunu.
Ah, racism.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.</style>
Gaucho had grown to like the heat.
When he had first arrived in Helovia, had first been ushered into the Throat by the bumbling Levi, he had nearly succumbed to the heat. It took long seasons of training, before his battle-ready body was acclimatized. Now, galloping along the sands or basking in the sun came second nature to the primitive dun. Indeed his companion, a gun-steel colored black mamba snake, was grateful that her bonded lived in a land where she could sun herself often. She was growing to be a warrior herself, and hated the sluggishness that the coldness of Frostfall always brought.
Today, the pair were off duty. Gaucho's morning patrol had already ended, relatively uneventfully. Yet the warrior was always ready - always assuming their racist neighbors to the North would try and make another pass at the Throat. He had been mildly surprised that there had been no retaliation against their actions but...perhaps that time would come. Gaucho's dark body glistened under the light of the sun, as a sheen of sweat gradually broke out on the darker points of his thighs, and wing joints. No matter how much perspiration or liquid touched his coat, the odd tribal markings that adorned his body never faded or smudged. They told a story that even the elements could not erase.
His antlered brow turned west, where an unfamiliar mare stood. His nostrils flared, greedily trying to sap her scent off the breeze, which caused the bone piercing his nostrils to dance slightly. In his antlers, Mara coiled herself, black beady gaze trying to place the winged mare among the roster of those who dwelled in the herd. Mentally, she shrugged. Alwayssssss new facesssss She mentally noted, as Gaucho began to moved in her direction. With long strides, the warrior drew near, stormy gaze confirming that he did not in fact, know her. Pegasi were of course welcome in the Throat, but as their sworn protector, the dun liked to know each face.
Halting a few strides away, his dark muzzle dipped slightly in greeting. Mara remained firmly skeptical, staying in his antlers, and tasting the breeze with her long tongue. "I Gaucho" He offered as a greeting. His voice was rich, though primitive sounding. Mara and a few others had been helping him with his speech, but it was slow and cumbersome. This was not his native tongue, and he found as he aged that retraining himself linguistically, was difficult. But if his herd wanted a leader who could not only protect them, but also chat with them...well...He would try.
Of course, solitude never lasted long; for my part, I rather (guiltily) enjoyed that. He seemed kind, almost, even in spite of the incredibly dangerous snake on his antlers, and the fact he had antlers, but then, I’d seen stranger (far stranger) things in my time. So I painted a smile on my face, tried not shy back from him even though he’d shown no signs of aggression at all, quite the opposite in fact, and answered like the mature, adult young mare I was and not the small child frolicking by the sea I probably looked like.
“Hi, I’m Meraki,” and I was unreasonably proud my voice didn’t tremble. It wasn’t that I was afraid, properly – but males made me uneasy, even when they were nice to me. Especially when they were nice to me, in fact. When someone’s aggressive and rough with you, you know exactly what to expect, but the nice ones…
Ah well; maybe he was just nice.
Maybe he was not and I would regret it, but then; how was I supposed to know?
“Onni said I could stay,” I added for absolutely no reason, but then; I was a complete stranger in what was presumably his home and he did have a dangerous snake on his face, so…
Also, snake.
“So, um. May I?”
It would only occur to me later that someone who had issues speaking simple sentences was probably annoyed by my chattiness, but, yeah. To be fair, I didn’t even notice; I was more preoccupied with the (dangerous!) snake and trying not to cringe.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.</style>
There were three things that nearly every female in the Throat had in common: wings, they were all small, and they all had weird names. Gaucho was fine with the first two, but seemed like the entire universe was trying to prove a point to him: That he would never be able to speak the way they could. It made him mentally growl to think that his herd could be plotting against him such a way, but realistically, it seemed true to the warrior. After all, who here had 'easy' names? Levi? My-das? Kri? (Well, she might as well be included amongst the men). The females had names like Ar-yel, and Ran-jeee-ree (although he liked gee-gee much better). Even Soh-ha-lee-ah. As the mare mentioned Onni, his head only bobbed in agreement, as if she was making his mental point for him. The shaman had a name he found particularly difficult - as if there were hidden vowels and syllables hidden in it.
"What Onnmmmnmneee said is true" He replied, his tongue thickly fumbling over the Shaman's name. "Pegasus always welcome here." He concluded with a nod.
In his antlers, Mara had slithered forward slightly, now resting on the broad bone between Gaucho's eyes. Her own black gaze focused on the champagne mare. The snake had grown distrustful of females, and was getting particularly choosey with who she did, or did not like, as she aged. Gaucho of course harbored no such judgements, but Mara remained skeptical. Her forked tongue snagged outwards from her pale reptilian mouth, tasting the air. She hissed slightly under her breath - a rather ambiguous sound, then curled her body inwards to stare at Gaucho straight in his right eye. Her body moved side to side - as if she were silently communicating with him; which in fact, is precisely what was happening. Gaucho's dark eyes bobbed slightly as he listened, grunting at the conclusion. With a hiss, Mara returned to his antlers, still staring intently at the mare.
"Mara want to know if you know about Sun God." He paused for a moment, and then made a comical face of "ah!" as if something had just occurred to him. "These his lands, you know" He added helpfully.
No, of course not. I knew nothing about gods, whether they be of the sun or not; I was once – but no. I knew nothing of gods, but I did know of demons and angels and other such nameless, deadly things, and what they were capable of, and of the river and of sacrifices and the water rushing into my nostrils and my lungs, filling my world with darkness.
I knew of a great many wondrous and terrible things, but gods?
(Daughter, you may run, but you will come back. Don’t you realize what you were created for? The glory, the wonder of such sacrifice, such sights…)
The gods, whoever they were, wherever they were, whatever they were, had never had use of me.
The wings closed around me on instinct; I tried to suppress a full-body shiver, and failed.
I did not step back, but it was a near thing. The snake did not quite scare me – she seemed quiet, calm even, and I was no stranger to danger – but the ghost of a memory, the touch of black scales upon my skin, slithering around my neck and –
“No,” I told them, almost in a whisper and through near clenched teeth; I was a coward and a sacrifice, made to serve and little else, and it showed. Oh, but it showed, and it was hard not to see a dark shadow on every corner after – well, after. “I cannot say I have,” I had only just arrived – and, more like, fallen from a trap straight into another.
I had lost the horns upon my forehead and a great many of the scars, but I carried his brand still. It was right there on my throat, visible to any who would care to look, an ornate ‘P’ cut into my skin by no mortal means – I would not doubt it cut deep into my bones, too.
Further, even. It was a rip in my soul, was it not?
What did I know of gods, indeed?
“I know of demons,” get a hold of yourself, Meraki. “I wish I didn’t.”
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.</style>
Gaucho had not noticed the marking on her neck - though likely if he had, he would have been intrigued by it. There were many symbols branded onto his flesh - a bloody hand print on his left thigh, the blue stripes on his chest, and the ornate sun-like ray marking set against the dark flesh that lined his left eye. All of these things carried deep meaning - some from times long passed. However few actually asked the dun about the odd things adorning his body - but this was fine with him. Although the markings served their purpose, his actions spoke equally well. Did Meraki's action similarly spell out what her marking was?
"Sun God powerful and bright. He make these lands and make a fire burn in the centre, so we all know where home is." He paused, tail flicking thoughtfully as he remembered the words Onni had told him. To speak from the heart, when it came to his assignment. But at the moment, his interest was swayed slightly, but her mention of dee-mons. "What are dee-mons?" He inquired - breaking the word into its syllables, demonstrating the even the word was as unfamiliar to him as the concept. His pierced nostrils flared slightly, as his stormy gaze fell upon the dusted mare. He didn't really understand the latter part of her statement - that she wished she didn't know about them. Wasn't knowing a powerful tool in protecting oneself? For instance, when Gaucho had first come to the Throat, his body was ill-equipped to run along the sides or in the heat, without growing immediately fatigued and faltering. This knowing, however unpleasant, was a tool to be used to grow stronger. What could these dee-mons be, that this wasn't also true of them?
Ah, to live in a world where things such as demons were unknown!
“Evil things,” I told him, quiet. “Bad things. They hunt and prey on the weak, mark them and hurt them,” except him, I thought, even though I knew it was a lie. He was always there, behind me, near me – even here, I could feel his presence, though of course he was not in this same kingdom; it was the land, I thought, speaking through and to me.
“Mayhap this Sun God will be kinder,” I mused. Impolite, perhaps, but such was life. I was hard pressed to trust things far more powerful than me.
The snake had fallen quiet; it was beautiful, in a way, how comfortable they were with each other. I had never had such a friend, unless you considered my daughter, and she was (is) no friend of mine. I love her, for she is my daughter, but I was not so stupid as to not see she did not quite love me in return. It must be lovely, to have such a steadfast friend.
“Where do you hail from, friend?” because he was not from here – I would have to be deaf, to not pick on his accent. “Not here, I can tell…” I truly hoped it was not prying to ask such a thing, but these talks of darkness and what was left behind made me uneasy, and I would take anything to forget.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.</style>
Gaucho's head bobbed eagerly at her statement; in the back of his simple mind, he always expected the Sun God to appear and chastise him were he not to continue to commend his magnificence. It hadn't happened yet, but even Gaucho suspected the God to be arrogant - who else would create the kind of quest that Gaucho found himself on? Regardless, he believed in the flaming deity, and would do as best as he could to fulfill his obligations. "I can show you Sun God" He offered simply, stormy gaze resting upon her easily - yet still not noticing her odd mark. "Maybe you can ask him about dee-mons."
As she inquired about this homeland, his ears flicked backwards slightly - as if his first instinct was to question whether anyone was around to over hear him. Had anyone in Helovia asked where he had come from? He didn't actually think they had - not even Sohalia or Midas. His brute strength and warrior's mind seemed all that they were interested in. Were he a more sentimental creature, he might have wondered if anyone was actually interested in him aside from his abilities, at all. And yet, Gaucho put just as much emphasis on his strengths that everyone else did - he trained daily and for hours - to keep himself in top physical shape to protect his herd. That was what was important, not what he day-dreamed about, or what his homeland was like.
Still, it was nice to be asked.
"Far away..." He mumbled, his gaze growing distant as he envisioned the deep jungles and roaring seas that surrounded the continent from which he hailed. "Aye-shee-ah" He continued after a moment, his gaze gradually becoming clearer as his focus was switched from whatever mental image he had conjured up. "Very far. Across many seas. You know it?"
“Yes, I would like that,” I answer him and forget to be afraid. He has this way around him, this aura of both exoticism and calm; for some reason, though he’s clearly a warrior through and through, muscles and strength and the rest of it, he doesn’t look like… well, like them, the sadistic types, the cruel types. I forget to be afraid of him, to be wary of the snake lying peacefully around his antlers. “Thank you sir, that is very kind of you.”
Curious, how these things work. I’m sure it will not end well, not for me, at least.
So I’ve hit a vein of nostalgia – it brings a smile to my face, unbidden, because I’ve been there, too. Sometimes I would stand at the shores of Nocturne and wonder about my own island paradise, which was as nameless as it was wild, as it was beautiful. I was brought up alone, me and a mother who never cared for me, but somehow, I never lacked for company.
“No, I can’t say I do,” and before I know it, I’ve taken a step closer. “I, too, was born very far from here, though, many seas and many lands away from this place,” even though I know she will not be found, how could I do otherwise. “Was it in this place – Aye-shee-ah? – you earned those markings?”
It’s fortunate that we horses cannot blush otherwise I’d be neon red by now. Smooth, Meraki, really smooth – but then, they are rather obvious and I’m curious.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
12-19-2013, 06:11 PM (This post was last modified: 12-19-2013, 06:11 PM by Gaucho.)
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.</style>
As she moves a step closer, Gaucho's focus changes slightly; it intensifies. A creature of war and physicality such as Gaucho, is used to having his body bombarded by hooves and teeth, even by horns and the weapons of other animals - each of them have a distinctive feel, but there is another sort of touch that, believe it or not, Gaucho is quite familiar with: a females touch. His nostrils flare slightly, but soundlessly - so different from his usual clunky movements - merely to breathe in her scent once again. With the lustful appreciation that only a stallion has, his eyes roam enthusiastically over the gentle curves of her body....
but then she is speaking again.
His dark ears flicker slightly as the sound of her voice stirs his attention away from her physical presence. For a moment, the words simply sit in his mind, their meaning not sinking in. "Markings.." he mumbles, before finally understanding. "Markings come from great battles. But these - " His dark nose lowers to his chest, where an almost feline swipe of blue pulls back across each of the broad muscles there, "These Gaucho earn in Helovia."
As his antlered skull moved to raise again, something under her neck caught his eye. Extending his broad face towards her, he gently extended his muzzle - almost carelessly - to brush against her cheek. The movement was more to shift her head slightly - that is if she allowed the contact - so that he could see the marking underneath. With a curious look of interest and desire, he pulled his muzzle back, to look at her squarely. "You have markings of your own. They come from great battles too?"
It was quite involuntary, but the memories – we cannot escape our past quite as easily as we can escape a physical threat. The memory remains, even as physical pain fades away and the consequences heal themselves.
Which is why, the moment his otherwise mellow glance turned sharp, my entire body seized and tensed up at the ready. I did not realistically think he was going to attack me in full view of anyone around, and he honestly didn’t sound the type, but a lifetime of instinct and experiences spoke louder than any reason ever could.
It took every nerve in me to not draw away from his touch. Somehow, I managed, but not without a full-body shiver. When he drew back, however, I could not resist a (very) slight nip in the general direction of his nose; I wasn’t even entirely sure why I would do such a thing, and I knew it wasn’t meant for harm. Goodness knows what’s possessed me since I arrived in this place!
So I swallowed once, twice, three times, and breathed out. “Yes. Sort of. It is true that the one who put that on me no longer lives.”
May he rot forever.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.” — T. S. Eliot
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