"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.
12-21-2013, 03:15 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2013, 03:16 PM by Roskuld.)
“This is a really shitty place,” I hissed to myself. I had decided a long time ago that anyplace that had sand was shitty by default. Sand sucked. And if you think otherwise you’re more than welcome to shove your fat face right in a sand dune and smooch it for all I give a goddamn.
Okay fine it wasn’t that bad around here. Actually, it was kind of freaking peaceful. It was nighttime, and I had wandered away from that strange place with the strange horses and the idiotic odorless, colorless wall. And yeah, there was sand, and that was horrible, but it wasn’t like the sand down south. That sand there got everywhere and it was grainy and hot like iron pokers on your tender skin. This sand….well, it still got everywhere, but it wasn’t as abrasive as that crap from the desert. The ocean water clumped it together too close, cooled it down, made it into something moldable and possibly useful and slightly less shitty. Also, the ocean.
The ocean. I’ve never given much thought to water before ‘cause…well, that’s not my thing. I ain’t lucid, I don’t “go with the flow”. To hell with that mess. But I watched the ocean ebb and flow across the bleached sand, a big black thing in the darkness of the night, a huge, slumbering beast, its snores the rustle of the water across the beach. It reflected the stars ‘n junk in the clear sky so it looked like the huge creature had millions of tiny scales shimmering in its hide, while the moon, huge and pale in its full, round state, reflected in a ripply-sort of imperfection across the beast’s broad back.
It…was…okay, I guess. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything, so you can yell at me later for that. I was just sort of standing there on the beach, close enough to the waves so that the tide rolled around my ankles when it swooshed in, the salty wind clogging my lungs and my mind so only happy and slightly irate things seemed to filter through. Like Bro. Yeah, I thought of him a little, I guess since the moon was so bright n’ whatever and the way the ocean reflected it was actually kind of righteous. I wondered if this was his kingdom, what with being the moon baby ‘n stuff. I wondered if he belonged here.
I wondered where I belonged.
I’m allowed to get pensive sometimes, ‘kay? Even if the place is shitty.
@[Mauja]
@[Oxy]
talk
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes</style>
12-21-2013, 04:11 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2013, 04:16 PM by Oxy.)
OXY.
I never said that I want this
You know the Deep Forest is supposed to be your home now, you get it... weird stuff in the Marsh, dead things in the water. Whatever. But you came back here anyways. You have your reasons. First, you're tired of the bullshit. You do more work than any of the other assholes that live in your crazy little group of horses and you get no recognition. Except maybe the Phantom Seeker with her sugar lips. She's pretty useful. The rest of them? You're not convinced that they're worthy anything other than a face to look at. You hate them all.
Second, your plants grow here. They don't grow in the Deep Forest. You know, you looked. Twice now. But, like you said earlier, something weird is going on in the swamp. On a normal day you wouldn't hesitate to just tromp through there anyways, stir up the dead things in the water like you always do and come out safe, if rather rotten smelling, on the other side. However, you've got this orb thing in your shoulder bag and all the electric burns that came with winning it still healing on your sides. You're not in any place to be fighting anything living right now, let alone taking on the undead specters that your mind images within the swamp.
So anyways, you take the long way, around the edge of the swamp, to the beach, so that you can circle back to the junction between beach and swamp. Its where your plants grow in abundance. You're surprised you've never found anyone else there indulging. Not that you mind. More for you. And right now, you need all the plants you can get. You've been massively overdosing as of late, trying to fight away the pain of your wounds. Each step still pains you, each stride tugging at scabs that mottle your left side, your right groin and other less important areas. Its better than it was. But that doesn't mean its good.
To be honest, you're starting to resent this little egg you put so much hard work into stealing from Ampere. Not because you wanted the egg, but more because you wanted to piss of the little Blue. But you don't get to think much about it. There's something ahead and.... well, you're not exactly sure what. It- a horse apparently- is standing in at the edge of the water, staring out to sea. You went out there once. It wasn't so great. And for some reason you decide to walk up to her, though you're not really so sure way. Maybe its the way your blurry vision makes her look so weird. And whats up with the long hair danging down next to her face anyways? You stop just a little ways back. “The fuck are you?” You've never been tactful anyways.
OOC| For reference, since I didn't really mention it too much, on a highness scale of 1 to Outer Space, Oxy is at about a 7.
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
Here we go again.
Night-time. Moonlight. Autumn air; the quiet whisper of water over pale, pale sands. He'd been here a million times before, the same old setting, same old heart beating the same old blood around icy veins. Heartless—no. Clearly, something beat in there, for he, too, bled if you split his skin. Or if he bit himself in the mouth. It was the same old sand shuffling over to his graceful steps, and sticking in his feathers, and up his legs, somehow working its way to the thin, tender skin of his joints.
He was used to it, though. The beach had become somewhat of a regular haunt of his as he stalled in the south, waiting for the teeth of winter to come—and his own courage. Still, sometimes he wondered why he didn't move around more. He'd never been that much of a water horse, preferring it in its frozen states, and the sight of the large moon reflected on the waves didn't do much to soothe him either. This place was composed out of many elements he wasn't overly fond of, and yet he kept coming back time and again, to simply pace along the coast and listen to his heart pounding away. It gave him nothing but a heart-wrenching view and too much time to contemplate things he wasn't particularly interested in contemplating anymore. Hadn't he brooded enough by now? Hadn't he already decide to move forward?
So why did he keep returning to the sea, wondering what to do with himself and his life?
Abruptly he ground to a halt as moonlight washed across a figure in the distance, an interesting blend of reflective white and darker parts. There was too much salt to smell it, so instead he sighed, and picked up his pace again. He wasn't the only one who came to the beach, for one reason or another, but Mauja was a wary creature—now more so than ever. There were those he did not wish to run into, at all, and some he desperately wanted to run into..but not before he was ready. Which, frankly, he knew was never going to happen. It'd be better to just get it over and done with.
He wasn't the only one approaching the bright speck on the horizon. A larger, bulkier shape was wobbling across the sands—at least, with the distance and awkward lighting he seemed to waver slightly. Determined all the same, though, and Mauja flicked his ears forward. Still no smells. Too far away.
He kept going. They became clearer; the big black stallion said something, but it was lost between the distance. The smaller horse was bulky, too, but not as tall. She had a ridiculously short mane and tail, but two long strands coming down the sides of her face like some kind of insect. Mauja flicked his tail. He didn't recognize either of them, nor their smells—outcasts, he assumed. Silently he kept approaching, wondering if he could just.. slip past them, or if they'd exhibit the strange Helovian habit of striking up conversation with nearly every strangers you met.
I don’t think I’ve ever swung my ass around that fast before. I had good reason though; this voice, as ratchet and gross as the mouth that spewed it, came at me with the force of a gritty cannonball demanding just what the fuck I was. I mean, I was already immediately pissed—I didn’t like no one hittin’ up on my peaceful hours, them shits are hard to come by for me—but then I swung around, and saw the actual bastard who decided to stomp all over my moment, and I got even more mad than I already was, and I was huffing.
“And what the fuck are you?” I belted back at him, snapping my neck as though an irritating fly were zipping around my ears. Which, I guess, wasn’t far from truth. Granted, he was much larger than a fly—I mean, waaaay larger. He was this hulking motherfucker with a stale scent, like he was always running a marathon, sweating and sweating and never bathing and sweating some more until he was just a rolling ball of funk. I visibly scrunched my nose at him, letting him see my pissy eyes and letting him know exactly how much I wanted him to skive off. As I watched him though, I saw a pale shadow coming closer, and my stare snapped toward it because, I dunno, I guess some part of my subconscious expected to see Jiji come out of the woods where I had left her. I didn’t want her roll up on this situation; the bastard looked dumb with his foggy eyes ‘n stuff, but he buzzed almost as irately as I did, and I didn’t want nothing to go down while she was around.
BUT ALAS it wasn’t Jiji, and I don’t know why I thought it was. It was just another huge mofo, maybe a little smaller in the chest than bozo over here but just as tall and pale as the first was dark. I wondered if they were planning on tag-teaming my ass, but whitey didn’t have that same nervous, sparking frustration that the other one had; his gait was a little too languid, his eyes a little too unfocused to be looking for trouble. “Hey, Teeny!” I called out to him, looking passed the twitchy giant to the light bro making his way towards us, “Take Tiny and bounce, he’s a nuisance.” Two huge bros on a secluded beach being affiliated with each other in some way on the basis of them being two huge bros on a secluded beach? Yeah, my logic was flawless.
This was one of those times where I mentally screamed at the heavens. The fuck, Dad. You guys have a way of creating really messed up horses, and I was still waiting on the pat on my head and the assurance “You don’t have to worry about the idiots. Just…the other ones, the cool ones.” But somehow I knew that wasn’t the correct way to think, especially if you…were responsible for so much. But I thought that way anyway. Fuck it. These people are dumb.
talk
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes</style>
And what the fuck are you? Well this is going well. Yeah, you probably should have just kept on walking because now you're stumbling backwards, maybe just from the wall of sound that the miniscule mare produced, but more likely due to your surprise, and things are getting a little confusing. Going forward is hard enough, backwards is way above you. It doesn't take more than half a step for you to end up on your ass, front hooves still standing, looking quite like a clown. And now you're wet. Which sucks. Whatever. At least you didn't fall all the way over, and the orb is still alive. So you guess not everything went too badly. You learn to take these things in stride. Sometimes falling works out to your advantage.
Falling did kind of suck, though. Both of your electric burns begin to throb their discomfort and you scowl as the pain pounds rhythmically. The doctor healed them up as best she could, but you suppose that magic can't heal all things. You look up just in time to see the little loud-mouth wrinkle her nose. Good. Maybe she thinks you're scowling at her. Because you officially don't like her either. Whatever the fuck she is. She still never answered your question and you're not convinced she's fully horse. Those long hair wisps are entirely alien. Maybe she's some sort of space creature.
But then her obnoxiously loud voice is calling to someone else, unfortunately still grating against your ears, but at least it gives you a second to gather yourself. And who the hell is she yelling at anyways? You turn your head, finding the spotted man, and you grunt a little disdainfully. He's kind of fancy for your tastes. If you were into men. You're not. You're just of the mind that men should be, well.... manly. And he is far from it. At least in coloring. His size and muscled physique suggests otherwise.
As she whips her head around to yell at the Man Spots, you think you see her long tentacle hair whip around towards your face. Maybe it's just the drugs, or maybe you're actually seeing reality. Whatever you're seeing, you decide to just go for it. You reach out, mouth open and then clamp down your teeth, hoping to grab the thing in your mouth and yank it around a little bit. Why? You don't even know. You just felt like it. And sometimes you gotta do what you feel like. And besides, if you're gonna be sitting here with your ass in the sand you might as well have some fun. Maybe she'll learn to shut up. You decide to let Man Spots deal with her yelling. Your ears need a rest.
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
[ Both Mauja and I feel a bit out of place, lmao. xP ]
The stout mare had whipped around the moment the big, dark fellow came up behind her—a reflex he could sympathize with. Unless it was a scent he could recognize within less than a second he usually did the exact same thing. He was sort of glad for it, though. If she was busy with him, he could just hoof it past them and continue on his nightly stroll (which seemed to be on endless repeat). Though.. a slight frown creased his forehead, ears tipping forward with a curious tilt. The bulky stallion had sat down on his ass in the sodden sand, vacantly staring ahead. He looked rather sour, but so did she, and Mauja wondered if they knew each other. He also wondered why the black stallion didn't get up again. Maybe he was stupid. Or maybe he liked to sit down? Still, Mauja wasn't sure he wanted to deal with two potential nutjobs, and prepared to step into the surf just to skirt around them. With a large margin.
But alas, all his hopes of slipping past fairly unnoticed by the odd pair were dashed when her rough voice cut through the night air. “Hey, Teeny!” She was, very clearly, yelling at him. Teeny? He almost felt offended at the choice of name; he was, not even compared to the sitting brute, small. Least of all the smallest on the beach. “Take Tiny and bounce, he’s a nuisance.” It was one of those moments when he would've said, "err, what?", but frankly he wasn't too keen on interrogating the mare on what she actually meant (or lecturing her about speech). He had a feeling she'd just throw the whatever card in and leave him with his proper manners. Seriously. What was the world coming to? He ground his teeth together, a barely noticeable flexing of his jaw muscles in the silver-lit darkness.
So, he was Teeny. Tiny was obviously the creeper, who still hadn't got to his feet, but past that, Mauja was not at all sure what was going on. He was supposed to take Tiny, and bounce. The hell? Was he supposed to grab him by the scruff and send him reeling off like a rubber ball? And why was he promoted to "bouncer"? Couldn't she just tell him to get off his ass and take a long walk off the short pier? Heck, they even had an ocean for him to drown in!
One ear flicked back. Well, whatever. It went too much against his nature to just give them a weird look and slink by, so he'd just give them a run for they money and hope he didn't die tonight either. Besides, it was tempting to see if he could shove the black stallion over on his side, to see just how unstable he was. And so, he kept his silence as he closed the distance between them—and the air just smelled more and more of all kinds of salt. He wrinkled his nose, paced up to them with great elegance and grace, really playing on his bloodlines. He might have no idea what the mare had actually told him to do, but the gist of it seemed to be I don't like this horse make him shove off. With his rather unsatisfactory instructions, he had to make the best of the situation, and cater towards his inner devilish mischief-maker. To hell with orders; he opened his mouth only because he wanted to.
Or, really, because just walking away seemed a bit too rude, and held less potential for fun. True, he could just stand out in the waves and watch them like a creeper, but sooner or later he'd probably get dragged into the spectacle anyway. So why not sooner?
Finally he came to halt by them, pale head high in the moonlit night and his face utterly stoic and smooth; his eyes flickered with guarded life as he gazed judgmentally down upon the sitting behemoth, and with utmost dignity he uttered his lordly command: "Vamoose."
[ I didn't mention Oxy's grab towards Roskuld because I have no idea of the timing in general (I think Mauja isn't walking up to them as long as his thoughts make it seem?), nor of the outcome. xP ]
My brow became steadily more furrowed as I witness the remarkable oaf of a stallion…slowly…slide…backward straight on his ass. Unbelievable. Totally inexplicable. With a disturbed look in my eye, I glanced at “Teeny” once or twice, wondering if he were seeing what I was seeing, because I was pretty sure it was the most incredible thing I had ever seen in my own outlandish life. Never before have I watched a full grown stallion slide so gracefully onto his bottom before, as though the shit were choreographed. Sure, it wasn’t as graceful as I’m making it out to be, but dammit I doubt I could plop on my ass like that even if I tried.
Mr. Snowy seemed a hell of a lot more balanced than this shmuck happily sprawled in front of me. In fact, Whitey seemed more than mentally stable—he seemed wrong-footed in a way, which I guess he should’ve been, seeing as…well. This was happening. I don’t know, I’m not the most normal little bitch in the world, I guess. I….hmm.
Well.
Anyway, he humored my skewed, hasty request and went ahead and approached us with this lingering drawl to his step, like he was big shit or something. And maybe he was, but in my book, he was just a cat attempting to help me out with what was turning into the weirdest shit I had ever dealt with. Well, I think he was trying to help me out. In his own way. By spewing fancy words.
“Vam—what?” I said sharply, my smug air of disgust turning to one of blank confusion as I turned to the white stallion, a brow cocked. “Vamoo—what the fuck is a vamoose?” I shot at him, kind of forgetting about the living shit rolling about in the sand for just a moment as I tried to process this…strange new addition to my vocab. “Is that a thing? Is that an animal? Are you calling him names, or something? Are you casting a speAAAHHGLAGHGH!!!“
--and I was SCREAMING, no, SHRIEKING all of a sudden because IT was touching me, that fat, dirty bastard was touching me, and not only that, it was grabbing me with that slimy, grisly, sloppy, gross-as-all-FUCK mouth, and it was in my hair, and he was grabbing my hair and it was getting all over the place and there was no escape and--
--and—
--and—
--and I just stood there, screaming like a little bitch (shut up), not knowing what was going on or what to do or how to avoid it, but my face was yanked downward and my nose was closer to him than it ever needed to be and the funk, oh boy, the funk was slamming into my nose like a heavy ball of iron, and he was dragging me and I was trying to drag myself away from him and a little strand of saliva dripped from his mouth and oh god--
--oh god--
--I probably would’ve stood there the entire night in shock of what was happening, that something as grody and unbelievably disgusting as Funkmeister was actually touching me and slobbering all over me. Or maybe I would have started stomping the shit out of him eventually in blind fury, completely crazy with whatever vain rage I had stored in my coat-pocket. But somewhere amidst the screaming and the disbelief and the horror of it all was the little inkling of knowledge, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, that Jiji’s feather wasn’t too far away from where his lips currently grasped my bang. And if he happened to get his gross little lips on that-- well. Game over.
So my body finally reacted with something that made sense, and I zap!ed my ass out of there.
When I reappeared a split second later, I was further up the beach a little ways, deeper into the ebb of the tide because I guess I subconsciously pined for the salt water to dunk my head in and drown myself. Which is pretty much what happened, except I didn’t drown myself; rather, I tipped my head close to the surface of the churning ocean waves, letting my violated bang drift into the water, hoping the salt would wash out whatever diseases that had snuck its way into my hair. To help the current along, I did this kind of awkward crab-shuffle along the shallow part of the ocean’s current, dragging my hair against the tide so that the water would flow through my hair with greater force. And all the while I did that, I whimpered and growled to myself, full of all kinds of self-pity and rage it was dizzying. “Freaking hairy-ass mole,” I muttered painfully to myself, my head bent awkwardly and my steps clumsy as I went to great lengths to wash any evidence of his mouth from my person, “the ass he popped off of don’t even want him no more…aaaaggggghh so gross….”
talk
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes</style>
01-01-2014, 02:44 AM (This post was last modified: 01-01-2014, 02:44 AM by Oxy.)
OXY.
I never said that I want this
Vamoose. If it's possible, your ass sinks a little lower in the sand, the rough grains wrapping up around your muddy hide in a short of pseudo-cushion. Your brain has become heavier, with whirling thoughts, trying to decipher just whatever the hell it was that Man Spots was saying. Vamoose? Tentacles seems just as confused. Except that instead of figuring it out in her head, like a normal woman, she's moaning out loud about it. You grumble your distaste. Regardless, you're pretty sure you should invite Tentacles to your little group. She's.... just as out of control as you are, no doubt. Well, at least you picked a good time to have fun.
Her shouting at Man Spots turns to a scream of horror as your teeth clamp down on her tentacle, shaking your head around for good measure. She seems.... displeased. Which, not surprisingly, makes you quite happy. When you're not thrashing things to peaces with your hooves, causing general chaos and disarray in the world is your favorite pastime. Next to getting high, of course. But that's a given. But anyways, the yelling. All in all, your pretty happy with the outcome of your small adventure, though you wish she'd be quiet. The shouting is a little grating on your ears. Out of interest in his reaction, you cast a side-long glance to Man Spots, just to see what he thinks. Is he as amused as you are?
As she tries to pull back away from you, you almost laugh but you manage to remember at the last minute (through the hazy fog in your head) that laughing the way you want to will open your mouth, and opening your mouth will let her go, and letting her go will ruin all your fun. So instead you just sort of chuckle, starved-looking body rumbling with the pleasure of the nonsense breaking out before you, and you're getting ready t- SHE'S GONE!
All of the sudden, Tentacles disappears and you're holding nothing but empty air. “The fuck?” You drawl out stupidly, looking to Man Spots angrily, as though he had something to do with the woman's disappearance. But then you hear a splash behind you, as the woman reappears in the water, and you whip (sort of slowly turn?) your head around to look at her. “Hey, come back!” you call after her, awkwardly flailing around in the sand for a few minutes until you can force your excessively large body back to a standing position. Your bones and burns creak in protest, but you finally make it.
And so, finally standing, you look to Man Spots once more. “We're not just gonna let her go, right? Vamoose?” You're not sure you used that word right, but never mind that. Your inebriated mind is fixated on one thing- causing pandemonium in Tentacles' life. And, while you usually prefer to work alone, you wouldn't mind tag-teaming for a little while. Still, you don't wait too long for an answer before you set off at an amazingly wobbly trot. How you don't tip over is the eighth wonder of the world, but your destination is clear. You're headed for the loud mouth woman who is now performing the oddest ritual involving the sea water that you've ever seen. Maybe you can push her in.
01-01-2014, 07:22 AM (This post was last modified: 01-01-2014, 07:24 AM by Mauja.)
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
“Vam—what?” He didn't know what he'd expected, if anything at all; blank looks, confusion... He'd said it for the hell of it, to have anything to say at all to these two outlandish creatures, and as a sort of payback for "bounce". But he had to admit: it was pretty entertaining, his lips curling into a small, smug little smile of pleasure as she started ranting about what a "vamoose" could be, coming up with all sorts of crazy theories. The black moron himself was silent though, as if no one was home, and for all Mauja knew, that could very well be the case. He wasn't dead, at least, because he moved, and the mare's amusing theories rose into a crescendo before the end.
And that, was less amusing. Mauja's ears flicked backwards as her voice penetrated the night, loud and clear in the former peace; it rolled out across wave and sand and, most uncomfortably, into his sensitive ears. What the..? He just stood staring at the pair for a while, disbelief written in every line of his face. What the hell was going on here? Was he..? Yeah. He was. A piece of the mare's ample, insect-like hair was trapped in the stallion's mouth, and like a huge, slow puppy playing with some poor toy he was tugging on it, and all the while the mare was screaming. Mauja's blue eyes were wide. This was definitely the weirdest thing he'd ever been through. Am I dreaming?
But her piercing voice was too real, too loud, and for another few seconds of dumbfounded limbo he just stared. Why wasn't she.. doing anything? Why did she just stand there and scream?
Then all of a sudden, with a crackling noise like static, she disappeared into thin air. Mauja just remained where he was, staring dumbly at the place where she'd been, wondering if this was how empty-minded the black stallion felt. “The fuck?” said stallion said, and turned his eyes accusingly on Mauja, who just raised his 'brows. "Wasn't me," he responded with a careless shrug. The night could hardly get weirder, most of his barriers blown away by the bizarre encounter; he'd never had any practice dealing with lunatics, and the best thing to do seemed to be to.. fit in. Pretend he was as bonkers as they were. Then they wouldn't notice he was different and attack him, right? Right. Because honestly, they seemed the totally nuts sort. It wouldn't surprise him at all if they had some secret ritual of eating hearts, or something (though he was sure he could deal with that). Feeling both dreamy and incredibly alert, Mauja turned his head as the foul-smelling Tiny did. And true enough, there in the shallows was the mare, mumbling under her breath and doing some jig in the current. He was awake enough to realize she was dragging her hair through the water, and snorted quietly. What a raw, emotional creature; doing and saying whatever came to mind. In a way, it was endearing—and fascinating. Had he ever lacked that kind of inhibition?
Beside him, the bulky stallion was awkwardly climbing to his feet. It seemed no small feat, and Mauja's 'brows shot upwards again. What was wrong with this horse? He could barely stand, much less climb to his feet, and when he finally stood again it looked like he'd fall over any moment. “We're not just gonna let her go, right? Vamoose?” Wait, what? When had they become "we"? Was everyone on this goddamn beach intent on pairing him up with this stinky behemoth? And what did he mean, "let her go"? Was he somehow under the impression that Mauja wanted to eat hair, too? That they should, what, take one strand each and pull on like idiots? And was he calling him Vamoose, now? Bewildered Mauja watched as the hulking, unsteady beast set off at a trot, expecting him to fall over any moment, but miraculously, the great beast remained on all four. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he muttered under his breath as he set off after the black beast, his own path straighter, his gait smoother; he lengthened his stride with ease across the hard-packed wet sand, and without really reflecting over the incredible stupidity of his own night-time brain, he set out to try and shoulder Tiny's ass slightly from the right, wondering if it'd send the stallion tripping over his own nose and faceplanting into the water.
I swear I could see murky liquid flow from my hair, as though I were watching hobo-bro’s saliva wash out of my strands in real time. It did nothing to help reassure me—in fact, I’m pretty sure it did nothing but terrify me all the more, because ew and also because I wanted all traces of this guy out of my life, off of my person, away from me in any way possible. His image in my brain was beginning to get warped and grotesque, or at least more grotesque than he was in person; he was turning into a monster of a personal kind, my own real-life boogieman, if you wanted to put it that way, and my paranoid disgust was slowly starting to mold itself into an actual fear. I don’t know why and I’m not going to ask myself about it, so you don’t try either. It’s all very complicated and probably Freudian and I’m pretty sure none of us are certified to deal with that kind of blanket-clutching shit.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the gross dude and me kind of crab-stepping my way through the waves, holding my head down and giving me a neck cramp and also making me kinda-sorta dizzy because I was going around in circles trying to wash the pure, uncut shit out of my head. I’m not quite sure how long I was doing it, because time didn’t really factor in my feeling of uncleanliness; I probably could’ve kept on doing it forever if they let me. But they didn’t let me; that’s the point. “Stupid, stupid fatty-ass rat,” I continued to mutter, fretting over my possibly ruined health and the violation of my personal bubble-space, “Dumb-dumb, stupid, no-good, stank-ass—NO. NO YOU’RE NOT.” This last phrase was obviously shouted because said Dumb-dumb was currently on my ass and I was not having it. Obviously.
I lifted my head too fast and my vision swam for a moment, but it didn’t stop me from blearily trying to book it away from him. The water slowed me down and my head was buzzing with dizzy and head-rush high and I guess I wasn’t running that straight, but I still meant business, as indicated by the crow-hops and bucking I added into every third stride or so. “Go, get!!” I called behind me at the precariously trotting shit stain still on my tail. I kicked at him, it was true, but I was also hoping my hooves wouldn’t actually touch him. Because eww. And my bang kept slapping me on my chest every time I leapt through the air, hitting me with a fresh slap of salt water and whatever lingering disease was still in my hair. I’m tell you now—it’d probably be weeks before I would trust my hair again.
By the way Ros, the water gets deeper the further you go into the sea. Which, I guess, I knew already, but Boogy behind me was making me forget a lot of things in the spur of the moment horror that was flowing through my veins. Or something. The point is, the water was passed knee-deep before I got it in my head to probably not be so far in the sea since it impedes movement. I also didn’t want to be in the water with….guy-thing. Who knows what funk particles we might share in the water. Ugh. Urrugh.
So mid-buck I zap!ed my ass again, but this time I guess I fucked up. My hooves landed on sand instead of more water and something about my footing completely screwed with whatever timing I had, and I wasn’t prepared for my after-shock travel thing. The point is, I stumbled quick spectacularly, and I stumbled into something, and it would take me some moments to discover the thing into which I had stumbled was big and white and probably scared as shit by what was happening right now.
talk
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes</style>
Wasn't me, he says dumbly to you. Yeah. Ok. Like you even believe that. But it doesn't matter now. You're setting off the beach, a brilliantly wobbly creature, hooves hitting sand, water splashing up on you when you occasionally step too far out and you're going to get her, you're quite certain you're going to get her. And behind you, you can hear Man Spots coming, to join the fun of harassing the alien woman no doubt. And the closer you get to the miniscule pony, the louder her voice becomes, cursing and berating you, calling you all sorts of names you'd never asked to be called. Not that she asked to have her hair tugged on. Regardless, you're bigger, and presumably older, so you get to do what you want and she has to deal with it. That's logic, right?
Still, hazy drug-fueled logic aside, you're quite certain you're going to succeed in your mission to do... something to the mare. You're not sure what yet. You have to figure it out still. To be honest, you really still want to know what she is, exactly. She never did answer your question. But before you can figure out which new, unpleasant way you're going to invade her personal space, you're tripping. No tripping is not exactly the right word. You're stumbling, fumbling, splashing, crashing, smashing into the sand, water billowing up and around you in a disastrous wave. At least somewhere, in all the chaotic shouting that happened in your mind, you had the where-with-all to fall kind of forward, ending up falling on your right side, your egg in your pouch landing towards the sky. Whatever it is in there, it's probably not too pleased with you right now.
Of course, you're instantly pissed. “What the hell!?” you bellow and, while it doesn't make any sense based on where you were all located, you instantly glare at the loud-mouth woman. Or try to. You kind of fail, since she's a little bit farther out in the ocean that you can see without really craning your neck around. At least you missed her kicking at you, since you were busy heading down to the earth instead of forward towards her. Not that you're spared the splashy aftermath of her hooves. That washes right into your face. But if she's over there that means... bingo. Your attentions turn, head swinging to Man Spots, an angry grumble rumbling in your throat. “Her, dimwit! Not me!” Shame you're probably insulting the smartest thing on this whole beach.
And then there's another zaping noise, and magically the maniac woman appears right before you, in a brialliant flash of lighting. As if on cue, a new wave of salt water crashes into the back of your head, no doubt the result of the woman's chaotic style of movement. Biting at the water as though you're going to do any damage to it. But out of the corner of your eye you see black and white spots, of varying size, falling towards one another like maybe they're going to collide. Now this, you can't miss. So you heave yourself up so you're at least not lying on your side, and rather lying on your limbs. Lights, camera, action. Serves him right. “Watch out Man Spots. Vamoose,” you offer with a chuckle. You get it right this time?
01-08-2014, 06:09 AM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2014, 10:43 AM by Mauja.)
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
It was spectacular. There was no other thing he could call it, that fleet-footed moonlit chase on the tranquil beach. Like liquid light he flowed across the hard-packed sand, agile and regal where the black beast was lumbering and unsteady; calm and composed like nothing else compared to the bucking, hopping spitfire of a mare. She'd yelled a couple of names and was keeping ahead of them, her hooves flying towards Tiny in a rather obvious manner. For a moment, it certainly felt like a "we" against her, black and white on her tail like a dog snapping at the sheep's haunch... But, oh; as the mischievous grin etched itself on his otherwise serene face, Mauja knew that there was no us. There were only three wolves and no packs.
Tiny was surprisingly bony and warm. Black skin stretched taut over muscle and skeleton, with not enough fat in-between. Then, he was tumbling towards the sea, expertly flopping down in the spray of water and wave. Mauja veered away, high-kneed with childish elation. It should be impossible to tackle a horse of Tiny's stature into the waves with a simple, light touch! But alas, the black beast had fallen to his side, and was none too happy about it. A grin was etched upon Mauja's face as he danced back onto dry sand. How was this mad, midnight escapade possible? How could the three of them exist within the same time and space without accidentally blowing something up? They were outlandish in their own ways, antipolar extremes. Three opposing forces and somehow the balance held sway.
Maybe, by now, the downed stallion would realize that there was no us on this desolate piece of beach—but, no. As Mauja was watching the cumbersome creature lying dumb on his side, awkwardly gazing about, he proceeded to call Mauja a dimwit and try to set him on the one mare. He took it with a grain of salt. Perhaps Tiny was the dimwit for not realizing that Mauja wasn't on anybody's side? That he was just here because he happened to walk past and they decided to get him involved? Though, he had to admit: it was a lot more fun than he'd anticipated. Between the mare's, still unnamed, antics in the waterline, and Tiny's spectacular instability, it had surpassed most things he'd previously experienced. And in his nearly nine years of life, that was to say, quite a lot. Not that it was going to get boring. Whatever astral being had guided their hooves there tonight wasn't done with them.
Another crackle of static, and the mare disappeared from where she was floundering deeper into the sea—and reappeared somewhere in the vicinity of Mauja's ass. Which, given the fact that she was careening towards him at a high speed, of course amused Tiny. Man Spots? Technically, this time he'd not mind vamoosing to get away from the awkward tangle of legs that was about to happen.. but... If someone was up there, watching their spectacular night, they were probably dumbstruck with the incredulity of all it all. Mauja knew that he almost was, anyway. For the mare, thick as she was, easily smashed into his nearest hock; he stumbled sideways, wondering if she'd decided to die on him, because her weight easily forced him sideways and down. Sand wasn't his forte, either.
Suddenly, he stopped caring. The air in his lungs and the blood in his veins grew cold. The last rays of starlight traced the wet, beautiful arc of dolphin backs glittering far out at sea.
His hind legs had folded neatly in a mimicry of Tiny, white ass parked in the sand and distant, blue eyes somewhere else. His heart was hammering. Not even adrenaline could get him to his feet—he just felt sick. Sick, and terrible, and disbelieving. Their insane frolicking had been interrupted.. horribly interrupted... It stretched out across the horizon, a dark sludge covering the perfectly sapphire surface. With each movement of the sea it came a little closer, closer, closer... Fear parched his throat, dried out his mouth, stole the words from his tongue. For a few, precious seconds he sat paralyzed on the beach, watching doom approach.
"Am I the only one who thinks that hightailing out of here is an excellent idea?" he suddenly asked of no one in particular. The detachment in his voice was testament to how deeply shaken he was. He couldn't put his hoof on it—he'd been through the blackness, hadn't he? A fiery, hellish summer? Wars? Yet here was something to shake him to his very core, to whisper fear in his blood even as he tried to gripe with it, and battle it. Curiosity be damned; he didn't want to be here when the thick, inky waters would lap against the shore and turn it gray. His eyes settled on Tiny. Was he still lying in the shallows?
What was his name? Man-Spots? Teeny? Lord Snowman? Maybe the fact that I know neither of these bro’s names is a clue for me that should indicate exactly how screwed up this whole thing was. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the huge white motherfucker seemed to have an easier time of me completely bowling him over via my own clumsiness. For me, it felt like mall my joints and bones and hooves and whatnot were on a super intense mission of knotting themselves together, so I was more than sort-of flailing around in the sand and horse flesh and my own reaffirming opinions that this place was indeed the shittiest place I could be for a situation like this. Freaking sand.
“S-sorry,” I sort of stammered out as I tried to roll away from him, my brain and motor skills still struggling hard-core to catch up with the rest of my body—the apology just sort of slipped out before I could stop it, before I could remember I was supposed to be pissed at these bros for crashing my peace and my pensive mood. It’s like Ma’s lessons on “etiquette” and “politeness” and all that crap didn’t really go into one ear and out the other, and some little nugget of truth told me you should apologize for knocking bastards over in the sand even when it wasn’t your fault in the first place since you were totally minding your own business before you were assaulted and harassed by literally the grossest thing that could ever exist on the pimply face of this awkward planet my stupid Dad and his siblings thought was absolutely necessary to create.
Huff.
Speaking of…
Something came over me—stole over me—however the heck you want it phrased. But it was like this chill crept up in my lungs, in the back of my throat, this fluttering icy coldness that locked up my breathing, clenched my chest, sent my heart racing in so many different directions. The messed up part was that I had felt this before—but I had been high that time. I can’t really remember all that was going on in my head that time (or really, I can, but we already promised each other that we wouldn’t speak of that) so this particular sensation both felt strange and familiar, which only made it that more alarming and frightening and irritating as hell.
I saw darkness again. And or a split second, once again, I thought my dad was coming after me for being an idiot.
The last time it happened, I was mentally flying and there was no way I could face something like this. There was no thought in my brain, except these weird esoteric analyses that I didn’t understand myself—so when my body said “run, bitch, run” what was there to stop me? Now, though, I was completely sober, so when I began to feel absolute terror bloom in the pit of my chest, anger rose with it. It sounds base, but I was beginning to learn that anger was my defense mechanism. I was coherent enough to deny my own fear.
*"Am I the only one who thinks that hightailing out of here is an excellent idea?"*
“’Yes’, said the black-and-white bitch,” I snapped back through gritted teeth, obstinate, biting, angry as hell as I headed head-first for my own oblivion. I shuffled to my feet, the whole right side of my ass caked with damp, coldish, itchy sand; I stood with my feet planted far apart, defiant before the black storm despite every nerve in my body--every cell of my blood—calling me all sorts of variants of the word “butt-dumb”. My show of courage rage even forced the fear of Funkmeister out of my immediate memory—because the fear of this darkness was very real, very powerful, and I needed even more fury to combat it.
“C’MON, THEN,” I roared at it, fully convinced that it was something that would deign to listen to my challenging, as though my raw, tiny, cracking voice was something worth listening to, “C’mon! Stop bein’ a little bitch and kill me if that’s what you wanna do so bad!!” This was the second time I had encountered this darkness-this same cloud of shadow and decay that was riddled with the lightning my Dad wielded. Except, this time, I was beginning to know better. This couldn’t have anything to do with my Dad; if he wanted to berate me for being a dumb kid and not knowing how refusing to grow up, he would do it face to face, eye to eye, man to…child, instead of endangering his own creation. I mean, he is a God, right? He’s gotta have some kind of collective empathy for all of the dipshits on the planet, right? This thing I was shouting at…it was a lot more impersonal.
We were all in danger.
talk
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes</style>
01-11-2014, 09:07 PM (This post was last modified: 01-11-2014, 09:08 PM by Oxy.)
OXY.
I never said that I want this
Funny how, if you thought about it long enough, it was the alien woman that has caused both of the massive men on the beach to end up grounded. The smallest thing taking down the two largest, and herself too. What a piece of work. With Man Spots down on the ground, you can't help but break into a round of rumbling laughter, the way the sand sprays up around his overly-large ass a dramatic finale to his graceful tumble downwards. Admittedly, he did fall a lot more smoothly than you did. Maybe. It's hard for you to say for sure, your vision is swirling a little bit, an effect of the drugs and all the extra motions you've been going through. Chasing after weird aliens is no easy task, obviously. And Man Spots was doing his best to make it harder.
And then, for some Gods unknown reason, the alien woman is apologizing. To Man Spots? You snort your disapproval. And you try to open your mouth, to tell her not to apologize to that asshole of a large, glorious stallion, but just sort of end up laughing, because all the sudden everyone seems really concerned, staring out at the ocean. Well, mostly the alien woman, but in your short time as best friends, you haven't known Man Spots to stare at anything so intensely. And so, while you don't get it, you think for a moment maybe they're concerned by you. But then your vision clears up long enough for you to really get a good sense of where they're staring and you realize that you're right about one thing- they're looking at the ocean. But they're not looking at you, they're looking past you. So suddenly what few instincts for self preservation kick into gear and you begin to flail around in the water.
For Man Spots and the alien woman, they're lucky they've got a little bit of room between themselves and you. You kick around like a moron, trying to force your body up, trying to escape the ebb and flow of the tide, trying to get your body to do what you want it to. And for a moment you feel like you're in battle, your body influenced by drugs but trying to work past the sensation, and your limbs manage to make sense of what they're doing and you begin to force yourself skyward.
It's funny, the sensation of being scared of something and you don't even know what it is. Especially for you. You've lived I the murkiest, nastiest places in Helovia and walked through the night like an Angel through Hell. But now? You're not really sure what it is, but the look in their faces is too... chilled, to real, to be without merit. And of the three of you, you're pretty certain that you're the most important one here. So angry at them or not, you heed their silent warnings and finally find yourself standing on your feet, turning to look and see what they're so concerned by.
And somewhere in the midst of all your flailing and standing and wobbling back and forth now that you're up, you see what they see, you feel the chill they feel, you know that you're small and insignificant to the gods and the evil that rule this land, even if you don't want to admit it. The blackness rolls forth and without even thinking about it, you take the final few steps out of the water, closer to the pair, staring it down, trying to figure out what it is, but in your heart you already know. It is evil. Pure and genuine evil, soulless and careless. This again. You've seen it once before take over your swampy home. Now it comes to take your beach... your drugs.
Now your heart dies for a different reason. A careless shove of your nose into your bag confirms your worst fears. Your plant supply is running low and the only place you've found the vines growing is between the Beach and the Swamp. So when you finally decided to answer Man Spots you kind of go the way of the alien woman. “FUCK LEAVING,” you shout, mostly to the blackness, angry that it would dare to take away your vines.... your life. Because how can you live without them? You shudder to think.
And for once you and the alien woman have something in common, shouting at the blackness like you're going to be able to stop it. But now you know what you must do. You have to test fate. It's a race against the clock, but fuck if you're going to lose. “Deep Forest,” you command the other two, as if they'll listen, but you don't wait to see. You take off, body fighting against your drug induced lack of coordination in an effort to maintain some sort of speedy pace. And yet, you seem to be going the wrong way, towards the swamp and death instead of the other way to freedom. But you've got to pick some vines, got to have them in your bag. Because if this darkness is going to ruin your life, you're sure as hell not going to do it sober. Not that you're going to stick around any longer than you need to. You're going to pick your vines and leave. Screw dying.
OOC| Oxy out. This was the funniest thread I've ever had the pleasure of participating in. Lets do it again some time, hahahaha.
01-12-2014, 04:47 AM (This post was last modified: 01-12-2014, 12:08 PM by Mauja.)
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
Her apology would've, perhaps, amazed him, if he'd been able to hear it properly. The word slipped out at about the same time as Mauja noticed the darkness—at the same time that his blue eyes sorrowfully, longingly, traced the beauty of the leaving dolphins, before turning dark and cold with the terror. He sat there in the darkness, on his ass, and stared dumbly at the approaching doom, the end of the world, or whatever it was. Certainly it was nothing good, if the mad pounding of his heart was anything to go by.
For a moment, they were all struck into dumbness, stillness; Mauja sitting on the beach, Roskuld half-lying beside him, and Oxy in the shallows. Three downed horses on a pale, contaminated beach, death and destruction coming closer with every wave. If the gods had time to watch, they would've been laughing.
Slowly, Mauja's eyes were drawn down, to the more tangible shadow flailing in the shallows. With the same spectacular lack of coordination as he previously exhibited, Tiny managed to get to his feet, after a lot of flailing. He was enough of a distraction, for a time, taunting Mauja with the incredulity of his existence: how could he function? How come he wasn't dead? How come he got anything done when he couldn't even walk a straight line? Then the mare was partially blocking his excellent view of the fabulously perplexing behemoth, replying to his rather solemn statement of self-preservation with a kind of vehemence he hadn't expected—and least of all had he expected the voices ricocheting around the doom-riddled beach. First came Tiny's loud, resonant voice, and Mauja's ears flipped back as he returned to, sitting, sourly watching the darkness roll in. Then Loudmouth was yelling too, and Tiny said "Deep Forest", as if it mean vamoose, and took off at his wobbling stride.
Mauja watched him go. Sighed. Clambered to his feet as if he dealt with this kind of shit every day.
"Kind of pointless to beg for defeat, isn't it?" he inquired mildly of Loudmouth, walking up to stand next to her much smaller frame. "You can't do much good if you're dead." All of a sudden, he had the incredibly absurd desire to laugh—to break into merry, semi-bitter guffaws, and then dance away somewhere and hide his head and cry as the world fell down around him. In the end, he did neither; just snorted, and promptly turned to stand perpendicular to Loudmouth. "Let's get out of here." But what he really said was, you're coming with me. And he wasn't going to go after Tiny. Tiny was going.. very much the wrong way. It sort of seemed he'd gone off south in his confusion, instead of heading more east, towards the land he'd mentioned. Well. Tiny wasn't Mauja's problem anymore. He'd taken himself out of Mauja's district and someone else would have to deal with him.
Without further ado he simply started walking, which meant that, yes, he meant to push his chest against Loudmouth's flank and bodily force her with him. He couldn't just leave her here for the darkness to swallow, though if she insisted on dying, he just as well might.
[ This was amazing. <3 We're continuing elsewhere, so in regards to the SWP, we're finished here! ]
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
