"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.
01-19-2014, 03:38 PM (This post was last modified: 01-22-2014, 11:20 PM by Odd.)
They had come. They had offered their enthusiasm, their lives, and their hearts. But the Spears - the fighting force of this rebellion against the proceeding darkness above - would be striking out blind, without the Siguls. Each sect of this defense had a place, but perhaps no one was more invaluable to a successful start, than the gatherers of information. Those who could move silently, swiftly, and efficiently. Those who could draw conclusions, and help to provide a foundation upon which the Guardians and the Spears would attack.
He needed to know what their eyes and ears had seen, and he needed that information now.
"Siguls." His voice boomed against the rocky walls of their new underground domain. Flames trickled down his mane and tail, and lightly blossomed and tousled the dark feathers of his wings. The light from the heat-less flames cast a beautiful sort of light against the already crystalline and reflective walls, making the 'Glowing Room' as it had come to be called, even brighter.
"Tell me what you know." He looked to each of them, his stormy gaze confident in their abilities. In his antlers, Mara's forked tongue flickered anxiously as her beady black eyes - reflecting the firelight of Gaucho's flames - glinted at them. If any of them went to the upper world - perhaps she would go. Her ability to paralyze and hypnotize might come in handy up there, especially since some of these Siguls had no weapons with which to protect themselves. The Guardians of course might accompany them but...Mara knew she could do much better.
No posting order. Gaucho would like to know what IC information your character has gathered! Current Siguls are:
Again he returned safely from the perils of patrolling through the disease gripped world. Few wraiths had noticed his swift passage on this occasion; his formidable size a gift now, if only to out-speed those hungering for his still quite clean soul. Though fruitless was this most recent endeavour to bring home the oblivious or lost, some information was swirling though his pragmatic mind- and thus the giant orange beast had swept with haste into the stone network of tunnels in search of the taskforce’s chief.
Clattering strides shed little consideration for those mulling in the grim silence of their predicament; brave determination projected from the brilliant carriage of his form, perhaps he was a fool for fighting the fear which crippled the vast mass of bodies around him; maybe he was arrogant for defying the stark danger licking always at his fleeting heels, not choosing to cower among them. He came quickly upon the chamber whence the group had first been assembled- and conveniently he found Gaucho heading yet another (though last to arrive, he knew not the motive for it).
"Gaucho," his bellowing voice intruded as the leaders request for information began to dissolve against the dank, mildew shroud walls. "Patrolling regularly, I have found that no wraiths have spread into the outskirts- the Threshold. Those fresh to this country, it seems are yet to be found." Perhaps the information was trivial, he did not know, but Hector volunteered his findings readily for the sake of those preparing to confront this alien menace upon them. "Bringing those bodies from the brink into this cave is dangerous, but I have done it on foot twice now. The undead can be skirted by those swift footed among us, and clever minded…”
• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times
Analysis and examination go hand and hand with inquiries and discoveries— she is called forth within booming vocals and deep rumbles as that of Sigul and within the burning context of her soul she pushes forward into a realm of rapture and Elysium. She is awestruck in reverence and admiration, wide violet pearls and cerulean leaves dancing within stale air and glittering as diamonds among grains of sand; fluorescent blue flickering against firelight flames and a frame of primitive mahogany, masculine in stature and features. And so she weaves and dances among the icy stars of the forgotten heavens above, sweet scented flowers catching upon her tendrils of sooty mane and caressing her flesh with butterflies of kisses, and through the trickle of a stream and the song of fellow men she is caught within the image of a pearlescent ship and depthless sea, damp sinew and gentle murmurs and the crashing waves of the general's voice. He should be here now.
The wide innocence of a marveled gaze is broken within the memories of his disappearance; hope and faith demolished before harsh realities and the murmur of a accursed song within the circles of her conscious— and she is so fatigued and so lost, and the faint tremors of a frail frame betray the steel of violent poison pearls and elegance of step, swaying frame and twirling hooves. The woman is far too slim; ribs gleaming from beneath stretched flesh and onyx circles forming beneath glacier lashes, trembling lips and cold exterior. Her throat is raw. She feels a pang within her bosom, a agonizing crack of a whip within her glass constructed heart, and the back of her mind is numb with shock; for once and all she is forced upon the realization that he is most certainly and utterly damned to the underworld below and it is all her fault, all her fault, all her fault and God's forgive her, it is all her fault (I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry).
The husk of the porcelain doll marches forwards with the step of a electronic monster and she pauses before the two ships of men in arms, glossed over purple taking in lava carved sinew and a leonine ligament before dropping to the solid Earth below. She is parched; an uncomfortable dryness catching underneath her tongue and a weakness growing within once solid bones— there is a bubbling stream and yet she cannot force herself to drink because she does not deserve it, she does not deserve the satisfaction of living, nor does she deserve the emptiness of death, and what a funny way for us to fall; the dead come to feast upon the living. A swallow, a grating process, she can taste grit in the back of her throat and a cough works its way to the surface and she feels sick. Will she meet him? Foolish girl. A meek whisper in the back of a haunted mind— will she fight him?
Can she?
She is sore from within the very marrow of her bones themselves; a swaying to and fro without the song of the wind against her flesh and she feels faint and is she going to pass out?
When was the last time she's slept?
....
Consumed nutrition?
....
Drank?
.....
There is iron in her mouth and she wonders with brief intent upon the pungent taste of iron upon her tongue before she realizes that she has bitten it too hard and there is blood wetting her throat. Cannot allow them to see; cannot allow them to see weakness, cannot allow them to know you aren't sure you can make this.
And so, with meager whispers, she calls forth the ghost of a voice from within her lungs, and the oxygen itself hurts. It hurts to breathe. She thinks she can hear his voice within the back of her mind— deserter.
"I stood amongst the destruction of the Endless sweep of the Blue. I was there at the infection of the land of Specters in which it began. I can.. offer any information upon how it started, if need be." Her knees tremble and her voice is a croak and she wants to scream at herself for being so damned feeble but she isn't sure she can work up the energy to do so.
What more can she do?
"I.. I can search for that of a cure, if given the proper subjects in which to run tests upon; Sultan of the Throat."
She sounds as that of a imbecile.
She knows it.
The deposed prince does not like taking orders from those he does not know, but he no longer has a choice. It would seem that the herds, crammed into these caves, have combined their forces and, somehow, the primitive Sultan of the Throat has won out as leader. He does not like it. He can think of quite a few other individuals more qualified to lead. But no one asked him, and, despite his reservations, here he stands, silent among the ranks of those who have already offered their services as 'siguls.' He had missed the first meeting as he took care of his princess, but as she came into her own role, he found that his life in the caverns was... lacking. Besides, he had always been good at finding information, with a flirtatious, shifty turn of mind that made him a master at manipulation and secrets.
He steps forward now, his violet gaze meeting Gaucho's squarely. He will not bow to the warrior, for though he respects all that Gaucho has presumably accomplished to be granted a role as leader, the primitive brute is not his leader. He follows Kaj, and Kaj alone, now that Mirage has disappeared. He shakes the thought away, sorrow pricking at his heart. Though he had not known the little shadow mare well, she had offered he and his lady a home, and he felt that he owed her. In fact, he is alive now because she had been kind enough to allow them to stay.
"As far as I have been able to tell, the darkness grew from the coast," he told the group at large. "It seems that it invaded the Spectral Marsh, the Veins of the Gods, and the Endless Blue first, and then spread from there. It seems safe to assume that the darkness, and the wraiths it has created, will continue to spread throughout Helovia." He falls silent, contemplating. He feels that he has an important piece of the puzzle, somehow, but he cannot figure out how it all fits together. "I am Quilyan, of the World's Edge. I would like to join your siguls."
Soon after the mare had returned from the threshold, she heard Gaucho’s call once again from the Glowing room. Once she had seen her new friend (well, time would tell if he would be counted a friend) settled she mad her way through the caves to find her Sultan.
She followed the light, and brought more into the room with the flames that shimmered on through her tresses and her clipped wings. “Gaucho.” She nodded her respect to the great stallion as she approached him. She was glad to see he was well. It was a harrowing thing to leave the safety of the caves, not knowing who might be gone once you returned, and she was happy to see the stallion again. “And hello to you, Mara.” Meg had certainly been alarmed by the great black snake on their first meeting, but it was she that Meg owed for her new home just as much as she owed Gaucho.
She turned to listen as the other Siguls spoke their news, or at least what little there was… It was beginning to sink in how very important their job was, and how much they still had to learn. When the spotted stallion, Quilyan, had spoken, Meg raised her own voice. “I can confirm what Hector has said, there were no signs of the wraiths in the threshold; I’ve only just returned from there.”
She felt like she should be able to say more, like she should know more, should have done more. She should have gotten closer to the beasts she had spied in the distance and maybe then she could have done her job properly. She lowered her eyes, she always glanced at her feet when she was ashamed with herself. you coward. You’ll have to do better. Though the burns on her legs had healed, Megaera felt like a cripple… What good was a creature of the sky when she couldn’t fly?
megaera
if this is to end in fire then we should all burn together
watch the flames climb high into the night
FAC FORTIA ET PATERE
be brave and endure
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Megaera in all posts ::