"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.
Seemingly overnight, the damp air that whistled through the underground caves had turned from pleasantly cool to brutally frigid. Crystals of ice replaced the moisture that condensed along the stone walls, and even the warmth generated from hundreds of breathing bodies failed to warm the space to a comfortable habitable temperature. Moniz had always weathered the harsh conditions of Frostfall particularly well - her body was well insulated with fat and she never failed to grow an impressive wooly coat – but without the warming presence of the sun on her back, even she was suffering the effects of this bitter season.
Cramped, inhospitible conditions had a way of making even a gentle soul begin to hanker for a good fight; Moniz had been no gentle soul when she started her time underground. Her innate predisposition towards aggression mixed toxically with her newfound irritability. The pony was picking petty fights wherever she could, having lost the tact or will to manipulate others with the more devious trickery that had always been her standard fare. These days, there were exactly two things she cared about: staying warm and eating. There would be time for hijinks when the darkness that held them captive released them back into the above ground world. We’ll be able to leave eventually, right? We’re not all camping in a mass grave, are we? Moniz had never been the type of mare who enjoyed the mental discomfort of such existential questions, but they began to gnaw on the corners of her mind with more urgency with each passing day spent buried beneath the forest floor.
At present, however, Moniz’s mind was blank. She stood solemnly by the wall of lava, neither hiding nor seeking company, simply standing where she had learned that the sting of the cold could be diminished to a somewhat bearable magnitude. Her brown hide absorbed the molten orange light, and her long hairs assumed a rusty burnt tone. She sighed pensively, a noise that suggested far heavier thoughts than her quiet mind was currently contemplating. Unprompted and speaking to no one in particular, she scowled bitterly into the self-imposed prison of the gloomy caves, “I hate this place.”
OOC: @[Windwalker] and open if anyone else would like to jump in. =)
This whole situation, began to take a toll on me. The ones cramped down here had gone from being full of energy and easy to manipulate, to dulled zombies. It may have been the weather that caused it, but I thought this was all a piece of shit. I was bored and now seeked the sea of bodies in the sanctuary in hope that someone there was open to some fun. I had no luck yet and it pissed me off. Even biting after random horses did not work, as I only got glances as a respond. To hell with them, I'll find someone else to play with.
My ears was firmly against my skull as I moved through the groups, still searching for the one that could make this hellhole feel alive. I chose a path towards that brought me towards the warmer sections, while my eyes searched every face I passed. These were supposed to be horses, warriors, not cattle!
I let a snort of disapproval escape my throat as my eyes caught something interesting. She was a small horse, dark bay and with this dull hatred painted on her face. My ears caught her words and I had to nod in agreement as I began to move towards her. "You look bored, Love." I said with my deep voice, offering her a smile at the same time. "Anything I can do to lighten up your day?"
Okay, I have to admit that she was not the prettiest mare I have ever seen and she looked a little fat too. Well, I can not be choosy in these times and truth be told, I was desperate after something to happen. "I don't think I have ever seen you before. I am Windwalker." with a great nod of my head, I introduced myself. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit about anyone's name, but this was difficult times.
The sound of another’s approach was not enough to break Moniz’s idle reverie. Her own dull voice had prodded her mind into uneasy motion, and she began to contemplate whether she could shatter the crystal sheet that held back the flood of liquefied fire. She imagined the glass clattering to the floor, the last noise they would hear before the river of magma surged and consumed them all. The cold air would harden the flow quickly, fossilizing their corpses in molten rock to be discovered by unsuspecting scientists millennia from now.
At least they’d be warm.
Finally, the deep vibrations of the stallion’s voice reached her. The noise seemed distant to her, but it held an unfamiliar note of kindness that perked her curiosity. Bored? She thought emptily, lifting her head to meet the dark stallion’s gaze. Bored barely began to cover what she felt. She was so far beyond bored, she was forgetting what it had felt like to be engaged and amused. She studied his dark baroque form with a small flicker of interest, noticing that he had found a way to maintain his physique in this rough-and-tumble underworld. The feathered tufts that sat where wings should caught her eye, and she stared unabashedly. In happier times, Moniz would have cracked a joke at his destroyed wings’ expense. Instead, she just scoffed.
Her tongue felt heavy with unfamiliar disuse as she answered slowly, “I doubt that.” She paused to swallow thickly, urging saliva to her mouth to lubricate her speech. The sound of her own voice seemed to revitalize her mind, as though the simple act of putting thoughts into words were enough to rouse her from her monotonous daze and permit life to be interesting once more. She continued talking, a characteristic small smile creeping its way back across her face. “Unless you’re here to tell me we can leave. That would help.”
The stallion introduced himself politely as Windwalker, but his manners did little to curry favor from the diminutive mare. “You don’t look like you do much wind-walking…” She gestured unkindly to what was left of his wings, but her grin broadened as she relished the opportunity to hurt another’s feelings – to have been found by someone who might have feelings left to hurt. She continued, “I’m Moniz. So, how are you passing the time not wind-walking down here in hell?”
Finally. A mare after my own heart. It was not diffifult to see where her eyes went or that she had been in deep thought, so when she looked at me, I let her. It was almost agonizing to wait for her to answer or even talk, but when she did, I laughed. "You doubt that, eh? Well.. I don't see any guards at the door or a sign that say 'No leaving this hellhole until I say so'. Do you?"
My grin had awakened again and I did little to hide it. And there it was, the unavoidable question about why I had no wings, but this time, she mocked my name. I actually found it quite funny, as I had thought many times of the irony in my name. "You really couldn't let that one go, could you?" I said it with a teasing tone in my voice as I walked closer.
How did I pass my time down here? Finding ways to get hurt? Flirting? Fuck things up? Nah, that didn't sound so good, even if it was the truth. I thought about that for a moment and could not find anything else to say, but the truth. "I do what I can to have fun, even if it means I have to piss off the biggest brute in here. And of course, if the chance presents itself, I may mess with someone's head. And you like to tun after stallions and blind them with your beauty."
I never let my eyes wander off her, as I wished to see her reaction. I wondered how she would take it, but I doubted she would get hurt and run away. No, she seemed like the one who either laughed it away or attacked me back. The last one would be fun, if it ever got that far.
It is hard to stand with confidence under the intense scrutiny of a judgmental stranger, and whether Moniz liked it or not, a sliver of respect for Windwalker wedged itself in her mind as he stood unflinchingly before her, answering her pointed remarks without a moment’s hesitation. At the flippant suggestion that she simply leave the unguarded caves, Moniz offered her own barked laugh in return. “No guards, sure, save the good sense to not get wraithified. Better safe in a hellhole than imperiled in a slightly less hellish forest.” She paused for a moment to look at the stallion with a mischievous accusatory smile, adding, “Unless I’m to be your damsel in distress…”
The idea of Moniz, helpless and waiting to be saved, was profoundly laughable. She was the self-sufficient type who refused to rely on anyone under any circumstances: she would not tolerate the accumulation of outstanding debts and owed favors. No one would pin her under their thumb. Or hoof. Or broken wing feathers…
Nonetheless, Windwalker brushed off the barb about his ironic name, and as he stepped boldly closer, the sliver of respect lodged itself deeper in Moniz’s mind. The flirtatious teasing made her heart skip an uncomfortable beat, an unfamiliar feeling for the brusque mare who had never exactly turned many heads with her dazzling good looks. Were she a naked beast, the rush of blood to her cheeks would have turned her face that telltale rosy shade of bashful embarrassment. Fortunately for her pride, the dark coat that covered her body shielded her from such physiological tells. Unfortunately, her rare speechlessness in response would likely give her away, anyways.
Eager to move on from the uncomfortable warm sensation burning in her chest, Moniz forced out another laugh as Windwalker boasted of his ability to pick fights. Before she’d mentally processed the comment about her beauty, she smirked, “It’s not the big dumb brutes you need to watch out for…”
Mid-sentence, his last words dawned on her. Moniz suddenly felt acutely aware of his gaze on her body, and it took great effort for her not to squirm girlishly under his eyes. After a few moments that felt impossibly long, she gathered enough composure to growl indignantly, “Well, Windwalker, your vision seems perfectly fine. Are you suggesting I'm not that good at my supposed hobby?” Having responded, she gave herself permission to shift her weight ever so slightly, resting her back left hoof in a forced display of nonchalance.
Damsel in distress. No, she was more the dragon that guarded the lady in the tower, but I had to give it to her; she didn't come across as one of those braindead mares that walked around here. "It doesn't look like you need to be rescued, but if you secretly want it, I'll do it." I said, with a playful undertone in my voice. I could not see it myself, but my eyes, shielded from the outside world by a wall of black hair, had begun to soften. I liked her. She was fun and she knew how to have a proper conversation.
Suddenly I got the feeling of having thrown her off the game, but as I hoped, she found her way back. Was it because I had said those things about beauty and stallions or was there something else? I got little to nothing from looking at her face, for she was good at hiding her feelings. She was broken then, just like me. That was the only explanation I found. Well, I like to play with broken toys that no one else wants.
When she finally gave me a question to answer, I smiled. Not a good smile, but the kind of smile that says 'I know your secret, but I'll take it to my grave'. "You are in your own league, sweetheart. And honestly, I don't think you have found someone worthy of your time or effort." With that said, I looked over her again and as before, I did not hide it.
A rescuer? Moniz had been teasing when she auditioned for the role of the damsel, and even though Windwalker’s response was equally glib, she granted her imagination the liberty to consider what it might be like. Being saved sounded fun. Needing to be saved… that held far less appeal. But luring some noble stag into potential danger on her behalf? That idea had potential. Wordlessly, scarcely noticing the stallion’s softening demeanor in her own self-absorption, she tucked the fledgling thought back into the recesses of her mind to marinate.
There was something strangely alluring about this broken pegasus. Of course Moniz enjoyed the company of someone who would banter at her pace without being insulted or hurt, but there was more to it than that, too. The way he balanced his darker sense of humor with bold charm; the way he scrutinized her as if she were the only other soul in this underground labyrinth… there was something uncomfortable about it, but that feeling was almost completely overwhelmed by the foreign sensation of a skilled hand stroking her ego. The pony was not a mare with any scarcity of confidence, but she had earned that alone. So much of her life had been built that way: alone. You’re not the type of airhead who falls for kind words and cute gestures, she scolded herself.
And then Windwalker smiled.
It was sad and knowing and intense all at once, and Moniz found herself yet again in the uncomfortable position of being taken aback. She tilted her coarse head at him curiously, her dainty pony ears twitching to the side in a rare show of thoughtfulness.
Fortunately for Moniz’s ability to maintain her reputation with herself, the pet name returned her to her senses. The kind smile that had tried to sneak across her face receded into her characteristic smirk once more. She was beginning to adjust to the force of his unyielding gaze, and, strengthened by her restored groundedness, she shot back, “And of course, you think the deserving gentleman just stumbled into my life?” Her gaze narrowed into that of accusatory suspicion. It was all fun and games, right?
But why couldn’t her hardened features quite contort into that trusty shield of sarcasm?
Determined not to give herself away that easily, Moniz forced herself to maintain unwavering eye contact with the stallion. Her posture had shifted to one of defiant defensiveness, and the bottomless pools of her dark chocolate eyes silently dared Windwalker to call her out for her hastily concealed tenderness.
She had guts, Moniz, I can give you that much. We both danced to the tunes filled with sarcasm, fire and temptation. And we danced well.
I felt like I began to unravel her, as if I peeled back layer after layer, until finally, I would see how she truly was. For this was all just an act, I admit that. And what about yours truly? I am not that much better, let's not pretend anything else.
When she became defiant, I copied her smirk and moved to her side, so that we both faced the same way. It was not much room between us, as the heat began to rise. I had nothing against it, for I still cherished moment like that. Before I shared my thoughts, I gave her a sideway glance and something that could imply a wink.
"Me? No. You deserve a man that is willing to shed blood for you, even if you owe him nothing. He should ache for you, before you know his name. But most of all, he should see you for the beauty you don't believe you are."
The seams began to burst and as that realization hit me, I broke off the connection between our souls. As I focused my gaze in front of me, I wondered if I had failed in killing off my humanity. Obviously I had not, as I often spoke from my heart than my head. Well, let her see the last good think in me, before I chain it up again.
Maybe they had both lost track of themselves for a brief moment, sharp minds softened, reaching out for companionship or some kind of connection in the cold, lonely darkness. But as quickly as they had faltered, they regained their footing. For her part, Moniz sought out the solid ground of her protective sarcasm. She would not fall for a few kind words, deftly delivered as they were by the handsome, smooth-talking stallion. She could not. If she let herself fall, she would have to trust him to catch her, and that was far too precarious a position to put herself in. Besides, rolly-polly Moniz would probably break Windhover’s back and hurt them both.
No thanks.
The dark stallion stepped around towards her as Moniz gathered her armor about her, bristling to steady her quickening heart’s pounding. She inhaled sharply and involuntarily held her breath, the pressure in her lungs building with the warmth that resonated suggestively between their odd pariah’s bodies. His words fell on her stiffening ears as her smirk became more of a disappointed scowl. She pulled her round eyes up towards him, her face overflowing with skepticism. “I will never fall for such a creature as daft as all that, Windwalker. You seem to mistake me for some floozy romantic. Let me assure you, I am not.”
Moniz’s voice cooled, and though the shift of her weight away from the stallion was scarcely perceptible, a chasm seemed to have grown between them. Though her demeanor had turned stony, an unidentifiable sadness had blunted her edge. She was annoyed with herself for letting her emotions chokehold her like this, and her tail lashed with blatant annoyance against her sides.
Romance was dead and buried in the ground, I knew that. There is no such thing as blind love, only the love of a foolish heart. I had neither, so when Moniz shot down my words, I felt nothing. No pain, nothing at all. But I heaved a sight, before meeting the dead pools of her eyes.
"Then what does your heart crave for, Queen?" I asked. "What do you want that no one have given you?"
I knew what I would answer if I got such a question, no matter how hard it would be to get it. I kept my eyes on her, as her tail whipped at the side of body. Yes, we were that close.
Waiting have never been my strength, but I knew better than to rush a mare for an answer I may not get. Therefore, I kept myself busy with my thoughts. I had to clean up a lot of things soon and I had no idea how to do it. And that thing with Africa, I could not keep that up for much longer, as it was not in my nature to be this careless of what others feel. Maybe I could find a middleground?
It would be hard, but I could do it. At least that's what I think. And who knows? Maybe this complex mare at my side could help? I would have to see what happened, as it would only fuck things up if I asked for her help now. No, I could wait.
After a brief moment’s preening at the unearned accolade, Moniz’s expression turned to one of unrepressed incredulity in response to Windwalker’s question. “This heart craves what all hearts crave,” She smiled patronizingly at the pegasus, unable to help herself from enjoying the feeling of superiority she gained by treating him like a naïve fool. She let a theatrical pause build before concluding with a flourish, “Power.”Complete and total, she thought to herself.
Moniz did not understand the complexities of power. They did not matter to her. All she knew was that she wanted her every whim catered to; she wanted to be able to strike such fear into the populace’s hearts that they would not dare defy her will. She wanted to cause pain because she felt like it – because it was amusing and she loved to be amused. She would not be ignored, no, never again would she be passed over as some minutia scratched in the margins of the universe’s script. She would be the author, director, and lead actress in the play of life acted out around her.
But that was all idle fantasy. The reality was that Moniz was a physically ungifted specimen who lacked the cunning to pursue her lofty goal. The reality was that she was holed up underground because of some unknown threat, because her instinct for self-preservation was stronger than her curiosity. The reality was that she possessed none of the traits of the mighty and powerful, and that she was cut out for the life of a nomadic bottom feeder – that she had already stumbled her way blindly through seven years of that life without knowing it.
Reality is a bitch.
To cope with the harshness of this universal truth, Moniz got her jollies by bugging anyone who’d let her, having somehow deluded herself into thinking this dilute drink was a decent enough substitute for the pure, intoxicating stuff. We all do what we have to do to sleep at night…
Moniz exhaled a happy sigh as her mind drew up different schemes in which she ruled the world in any number of ways. Then, remembering her company, she stared unflinchingly at Windwalker. Her fantasies and his words had combined to gorge her ego, and it was with an abundance of swagger that she purred to the stallion, “And what is it you’ve convinced yourself your heart craves?”
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