"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.
"Don't forget who you are when the world begins to crumble beneath your feet." Naveen's mother was an intelligent lady, dignified and sweet, with an eternal amount of love for all. No matter who you were, how you behaved, or what you looked like... she would love you period. Her mother was a passive mare. Tranquil and serene. Even in the mares old age she would grin no matter what… When Naveen decided to abandon home, her mother was the only to know. The only one who would support her in her decision and love her till the end of time.
As she walked now, unaccompanied and weary, she sang a melody in her head. Mumbling the words and humming gently against the brittle cold. Green eyes continuously watching the environment, knowing that at any moment her wonderful day could turn dreadful.
This forest was new.. but oddly known to her. As if she had dreamed of this day before. The day she entered Helovia. Although she knows not of this land and its inhabitants (or if it even has any), she can feel the life in the air. Something was there. Something new and memorable. Naveen knew the day was going to end well, so she kept trampling through the snow, waiting for something, someone to show.
[ooc- yuck, I know. I’m terrible at starting posts, once I have something to reply to though, it should get better. (: lol]
It was considered her birthright, bequeathed by those brilliant winged ancestors seeping through her lineage; supposedly as natural and simultaneous as the task of breathing. But it was no longer that simple, and only in recent days had she grown accustomed to the sheer, excruciating pain of her bones shrinking, grinding, and her large Spanish frame compacting into parrot form. The ability had only just roused as bubbling magic, coursing with the passage of her blood, and it was actually Silas who had felt the energy; the writhing power as it stirred to life within his beloved’s downtrodden core.
When first she had tested herself, Africa had been fearful, confused, and the ache was unbelievably overwhelming- a sensation she had not at all expected. Shape-shifting was no medial task after all; there were no blinding flashes, nor elegant transformations like those fabled by the tongue of her dream-weaver mother. She had tumbled from the canopy-line of the forest then, limbs spilling back into reality and jarring beneath the weight of her plummeting self. Such was a strain like no other on her body, though now, that physical stress was less pronounced, and the more she practiced the less unpredictable it all seemed to be.
They set off early. Before even the first seeping hue of dawn had slithered across the easternmost horizon; the darkness was their security, the Zephyr’s predator eyes were fiercest by the grace of moonlight, and even though vast blankets of cloud pregnant with Frostfall’s snow shielded any true glow, he could guard their travel shrewdly without the glare of day. By the mouth of The Sanctuary he covered her transformation, wary always of the cunning wraith’s hunt, and when the mare’s pain had dulled enough they moved north (never far beyond the ground should she weaken and the magic embracing her fail again).
Still well clear of the reach of any earth-shackled undead (some could fly, but most were bound by their gravity laden ex-forms), the pair flapped in unison as the first rim of Threshold pines loomed in the distance- they shared the wave of relief; that comfort in knowing that the old entrance to Helovia remained untainted by the darkness; the plague. Driving heartily through the brisk, wintry wind they broke through the first of the trees bending and swaying restlessly against the wild elements.
"Silas, I’m tired..." Africa called through the tight bind of their minds, and the Zephyr slowed instantly to follow the descent of the mare as she began loose spirals towards the forest floor. ‘Another... close to here,’ he answered suddenly, lifting his wings to prop above her. Africa could not avoid the drag of weight as it was pulled towards the earth; having not mastered the finesse of fine landing, she plunged when she could hold the magic taut no longer and her mass crumbled into the sparse wiry mat of suffering grass and wet, revolting snow. The burn of her reconfiguring bones did not ease right away, and she lay for a moment with clenched eyes; legs sprawled to one side, and the lonely left wing cast across the collapsed curve of her again large barrel.
"No harm done," she reassured her companion with a light, somewhat laboured smile- he was torn, fluttering worriedly above her, while scouting the vicinity surrounding for the flicker of movement he had seen barely minutes before. The Zephyr sighed pensively, though he noted her mind beginning to clear of the aggrieved fog which seemed always to mushroom through these flights. Then he saw her, and the flash of interest forced Africa to stand, turn, and seek out that which had snagged him.
A unicorn was venturing by- maybe drawn by the commotion of their less than elegant arrival, although as four eyes examined the stranger, she seemed to be none the wiser of their close proximity. Softly rattling nostrils broke the building quiet (few birds were compelled to brave the bleak weather even though the sun was slicing viciously by then, through the shroud of white above), and Africa called out to the nomad meekly; they had not come to avoid wanderers like this- but to bring them home to relative safety.
My bulky legs continued to advance on. I was fatigued from excursion, very exhausted and almost deranged. At one point in time I swear I could auscultate something coming, even over the vigorousness of my humming. Although it couldn't be accurate, it had to of just been the breeze. I'm so rooted in speculation though, and so befuddled, I had yet to recognize the mare who just landed (crash landed perhaps) not to far off from the range I am traveling through.
Green eyes seized her, my nares broadened bringing in her aroma, and that was when I knew it was authentic. I'm not absent minded. Stop. I said to myself. Limbs hesitating, my one green hoof dangling in the air, skeptical of if I should truly wait on this being. Should I trust her? Should I run? And what is this thing that creeps beside her?
A bird, a beautiful bird. Fluttering about, questionable on what to do. Perhaps they were companions, very close to one another. (How silly to think, because we cannot speak to other animals, how would she connect with such a thing?)
Then she signals to me, I incline my head her way. Quietly contemplating to myself. I mean, I have no idea what to respond...
So I snort her way, then send an affectionate call back. Keeping a smile perched upon my lips, as I'm cowardly standing there like a statue. I had been anticipating the day I would meet someone again, to be able to be in the presence of another being was something so grand to me I felt I would never perform this way... but I am shocked. Astonished that she seemed to come out of the blue, and... alone. Where is her family? Is she too traveling alone because she abandoned home? Is she a cast away, a naughty awful mare that is only going to tease and trick me? All these questions soar through my head and not one of them can I answer. Instead, I break the silence with my words, "Greetings."
Any time spent so far from the unnatural refuge which currently harboured much of the Helovian population was uplifting, invigorating and generally healing for the mind. Her spirit had decayed considerably through the months of their imprisonment (guilt and stress fermenting her very essence while little else could be done to distract); cowering en mass below the barrier of Earth’s mighty crust, where no foul monsters could penetrate. No matter how secure the cave kept them, and regardless of the lavish grazing able to thrive so deep without the nourishing stroke of sunlight, such a life was no pleasure for one stained with part-equine instinct.
Africa had definitely not spent so long in the cave beneath the Deep Forest last Frostfall, nor had she been forced into such cramped quarters then with those same fiends she had learned to fear- the Unicorns of the Basin. The Sanctuary, while very much their saving grace, was uncomfortable and queer.
While creamy eyes peered curiously towards the brown and white splashed Unicorn mare, flaccid nostrils inhaled greedily; testing all the while the whispering iced breath of air for any flavour therein. She was upwind however, and mottled strings of long mane whirled playfully around the snag of her perfectly forward ears, the long black and red tendrils to her rear licking lazily around the pinch of clenched coal hocks. The other had paused quickly when Africa’s unassuming position had been betrayed, though barely seconds after the soft mutter of her snort; the dark horned face was turned towards her.
Even from the distance dividing the two, the dappled Pegasus found effortlessly the smiling curve of the other’s expression; no hostility rippled beneath the taut sheen of her hide, and Africa’s own lips curled in response. She had not felt the blessing of simple friendliness for a long while (that was perhaps part of the reason the mellow nature of her heart had soured so), and was compelled still closer when the stranger’s lovely voice was delivered through the breeze.
Readily, white-stockinged limbs started forwards through the wet slop of snow so eager to chill the warmth of her skin. Rarely did snow fall in her home; the desert, where her herd had bedded and thrived for as long as she could remember, and she found the sensation of its bitter bite most unpleasant. Perhaps that caused the unusually high nature of her stride; each hoof thrust as far from the stew as could be managed. Regardless however, the once Oracle’s attention focused forward curiously. She halted at a thoughtful proximity, one which would allow either being time to flee should some drastic event fall upon their aloneness (Africa knew by experience now that strange things could happen- at any point, and did). Certainly the grey portrayed little reason for the other to react fearfully as she stretched forward her velvet nose warmly.
"Hello...." After a modest offer to exchange breath in typical equine fashion, the one-winged creature withdrew and offered a humble smile. "…I’m Africa; few wander the woods these days, are you looking for company?" Her face tilted quietly, musingly, and her gaze fixed upon the marvellous emerald green of the other. Without the need to return to The Sanctuary by foot, Silas did not overwhelm her thoughts so gravely (when other’s had been met here in recent times, the young Zephyr had feared terribly for the wellbeing of his beloved, and the safety of her primitive travelling), and Africa was left to converse in relative peace.
The young avian had by then swept onto the low bough of a rogue oak tree nestled between those frayed arms of the old Redwoods, and he watched tentatively, preening those feathers which had been displaced mid-journey.
02-06-2014, 12:57 PM (This post was last modified: 02-06-2014, 12:58 PM by Cealestis.)
C e a l e s t i s
Daughter of the Sky
I have disobeyed the woman is to help me.
I am afraid that I could bare the silent stillness of those caves no longer.
And so my wings now taste the breeze, my heart soars and fills with each thrust of my wing muscles, the right aching from the close confines in which I have been trapped. I am not without my wariness, however, my ears like turrets that swivel and aim about me, seeking out a dark assailant in the skies. Surely, my kind has been afflicted as well as the earth walkers, and so volatile is this disease that it seems capable of adding appendages where once there were none.
I do not fear for my life. I have dreamt of a distant future, and it is to that silver lining that I cling, a promise of tomorrow that few are given as I once was. I do miss my dreams, the morning rise to find truth was told me over the passing of the eve, but I understand why I cannot have them here.
The Moon, a pale shape in the blue sky, is a ghost of herself as the Sun owns the heavens. Together, they are my old God, the being of Elysia that I worshipped. Here, it would seem they are separate entities.
Magic amazes with every turn.
I have flown to the Threshold, a vast expanse crossed much more quickly by wind current than hoof, and I notice with mild interest that this place, too, seems free of the oblique figures of the infected. It makes me feel slightly cross that Circuta has led us to a hole in the ground rather than a forest, but it also occurs to me that it is the lack of life to maim in this wood that keep them from it.
These facts in mind, I now notice the distinct lack of anyone in comparison to the day in which I had arrived. What had been a healthy flow was seemingly now a trickle, and with good reason; most probably died before making it this far. I did not know how far the disease stretches. It is only probable that it is beyond Helovia, perhaps much worse than we fare here.
I have circled the wood many times, seeking a clearing suitable for landing that contains any figures at all. The weight and warmth of my egg presses against my neck in the sling of my own mane that I have made.
There are none, but I land lightly in a broad and open area very similar to the one I had found Oxy within. Voices sound nearby, revealing that there are beings here that are hidden by the cover of the tall branches, and with an elegant, smooth trot, I am closing the distance between us.
A unicorn and a one winged mare appear before me, the maimed pegasus accompanied by a glimmering and strange bird that I believe is called a Roc. The sight of her damaged wing makes my heart ache for her, such sadness that etches through me in understanding of what she has lost. I, too, was incapable of flight for a time, and I wish nothing of the sort on any who is used to the cradling embrace of the wind. The tail end of the pegasus mare’s words reach my ears, no smile slipping on my face to speak of friendliness as I seal the gap between the three of us.
"There is a reason none wander, sister," I say, nodding my head in greeting to the two of them. The title of kin is not meant for the earth beast, her long horn a blight on her body that I struggle to see as only an embellishment of magic. The black bell sings, tempts me with the unrealistic truth that I should not warn a lesser creature of danger; I should let it swallow her as it has the others who are unworthy.
But I am not that daughter anymore. I am Cealestis, of the Sky, no longer a prisoner of Elysia or the damnable bitch who I regretfully share my blood with.
"Evil walks among the living, stealing our bodies, corrupting our souls," how very like my own blood this disease is, "it would be foolish to wait even here for too long."
It seemed that my own smile had made the other mare splinter a grin herself. It is extremely astonishing what the power of cheerfulness and recognition can do. Just by putting the smile on my visage, I lit up this gathering, and made myself a new acquaintance. But when she returned that smile, I couldn’t help but feel so pompous and lofty. I couldn’t help but feel pleased to have found another creature, because I know now she is a gentle spirit.
The mare began to close the space between us, I relaxed my stance and unperturbed my muscles. My head held stable, I am content. Fully trusting in her.
Her nose commences towards me and in return I too extend my velvet muzzle to her, whether we bump or not, I know she means no mischief. Then her tones begin to come. ’Hello….’ My ears perquisite forwards as I pay attention closely, ’…I’m Africa; few wander the woods these days, are you looking for company?’ Although in the core of her sentence I jump. Eyes extensively open and my nares flaring with antagonism. My head has tossed around to the right of me as I initiate examination of the noise that come from the treetops and then entrenched against the forest, because I unquestionably was not expecting something or someone to disrupt my peace. -(Without my acknowledgement I am stepping closer to Africa, perhaps my body is thinking she will soothe and shield me. )- I am stationary in dialogue, contemplation, and my intellect. My eyes are fixed firmly on the blue roan headed our way. Slightly, I mean very slightly, I am aggravated by her presence; As she carries herself with a very vacant look. I see no affectionate smile or hear no greeting call, she creeps towards us as if she has invited herself to our little ‘chat’. Though I show no signs of my frustration, I calm myself instead and discharge my twisting muscles.
Ignoring her as she comes our way I answer Africa softly, ”Naveen… and indeed, I search for company.”
Now this roaned shape who comes our way has arrived to our congregation, communicating of some sort of evil that saunters among us. Is this twaddle? I’ve seen no evil (not the smallest amount) until she arrived. Something about the manner she held seemed contaminated. Perhaps she just chafed me wrong and I am only still irritated with her. ”This evil is real? And not some figment of your imagination?” I am not rude in my expressions, just a little sarcastic. I still smile warmly, gifting the roan with the light hair, my bliss and gentle attitude.
Wickedly brisk, and driving ever quicker between the restless creak and groan of old, haggard redwoods, the wind stirred lush mottled tendrils into whirling, twisting tangles. Upon its breath also was brought the subtle scent of another- a female, though unfamiliar otherwise. Long charcoal tipped ears switched readily; searching upwind for the approach of the stranger and soon enough another Pegasus (the first, basic impression) strode smartly towards them. The green tinged Unicorn had found her also; though Africa could feel the tension build through the other mare’s lithe form- her own involuntary response was much the same; the flex and ripple of refined, ready muscles, the sway of bodies as they merged closer together. Instinct had always held a firm grip on her resolve. Rarely did she act apart from that.
Regardless, Naveen continued the conversation although her tone had mellowed so that wispy words mixed quickly into the circulating air. They were not lost to the dappled mare however; her ears were fine-tuned and careful, and a gracious smile creased further the wrinkled crooks of her thin dark-grey mouth. No sooner had the horned mare revealed her purpose, the blue mare with locks as pale as the icebergs dotting the northern oceans had arrived- without anything greater than a cordial nod to mark her joining. Undeterred and brooding mood alleviated by the light-hearted company to her side, Africa offered to her winged-brethren a warm smile- transparent emotion that had long been lost beneath the perils of grim memories and rotting guilt.
Unfortunately, the words which sailed clear of the newcomer’s lips were right; a warning, and one without the frills of hope other’s sheltering beneath the earth dressed themselves in. Africa found herself staring, thoughtful pools of shiny sand swimming through the strangely ethereal gaze of the other; captivated, curious. Eyes drifted beyond stoic, still features to find unusual markings crawling above feminine curves; a slim waist, gloriously rounded hips- though she could see no more from the angle she was watching from.
Naveen’s sceptical voice pulled the one-winged grey from her study; words slipping with subtle sadness for the admission born upon them. "The evil is real." She glanced thoughtfully back to where the tri-coloured mare still stood to her side and offered something of a reassuring nod- only to say that this was no lie. "We who have not been infected hide away beneath the earth. It has been many months since most have basked in the warm grace of sunlight." It was not all terrible news though- she shrugged soberly and offered a weak smile. "The God of the Earth has blessed a fountain in the Sanctuary and it is said that those waters can cleanse a wraith of its illness. There is an army too who have risen against the darkness..." Her pale face jerked slightly, the scoff withheld. Many presumed that this was actually the end of the world- and Africa couldn’t blame them.
"I agree. We shouldn’t dither here. Will you return to the caves with us?" The wing feathers clasped snugly against the curl of her barrel bristled, though the journey would not be blessed with flight she acknowledged calmly.
The horned mare is as interested in me as I am in her, and that suits me just fine. In all truth, her attitude of ignorance to my presence is fitting of how I expect her to act, how all others who wore horns throughout my life responded to my presence. She had not been spoken to. She would not speak.
My lips are smiling politely in return to the one winged mare, a pretty mask for my pity that still gnaws at me whenever I look at the remnants of her wing, my eyes cold as ice that gleams beneath a low hanging arctic sun. It’s become so normal for me to feel so devoid of anything other than disregard and hatred, disappointment and spurn, that I barely even notice it anymore.
This is me, and my heart. We have become stone and glass so that we do not destroy the only thing we have left to be proud of.
Our will.
The painted land walker asks if I have lied, to which my lip twitches upward in a swift quirk that is only a rippling after affect of my self constraint, the inward, split second battle that I fight again and again from which my soul is strewn with scars. They will not see this struggle, just as I do not see the good humor hidden in her smile while so overwhelmed by my own body as I am now. They will find me ruthless and sharp as obsidian flake. I do not care, really.
The other queen alongside me is kind enough for the both of us to recover my lack of grace for the betterment of the conversation, though my eyes still bore into the flesh of the painted damsel with hopes that she will spontaneously rupture into a million pieces by the force of my desire. I don’t imagine much, anymore, and even if I did, I am not mad. How thoughtless of her to lay salt into my wounds and daggers deep into my pride, with that snarky little grin on her face and that hideous blight sprouting from her face.
The bell is drowning out even the sound of my heart, the vocals of the grey and seemingly flightless pegasus a sweet and sad note that struggles against the black currents of my thoughts. She is saying we should go, but I find that I cannot move for fear that even the smallest tremble will send me leaping like a rabid hound for the unicorn’s throat. Perhaps my eyes are overly wide, or the center of their blue expanse broadens and slims as if to the rhythm of some silent drum.
It is all over in a moment, but the moment feels like eternity. By the time I am able to follow the conversation well enough through the foggy lenses of the bloodlust within my memory, the question is already asked, and it already contains us.
I almost laugh; a crazed, exhausted, and wary sort of sound it would have been. Instead, I turn my eyes toward the south and the caverns, withholding my gaze from the pair of them and quietly deciding to walk with them back.
I can always just take to the heavens and leave the land bound in the realm of prey.
”It’s safest to travel together," perhaps. So long as the horned wench doesn’t insult me again all will be well; they are strangers, but I am a changed woman, and my past is so covered in ash and blood. I will help them, if I can; it may be that such acts can regain the light of the soul that our own decisions and those of others have covered in smut, as it is said in some of the old tales. It may mean nothing at all.
It is most likely that it will only ease my own loathing of this creature my mother has made me become.
It is on this path that I will meet my sisters again, a golden halo growing about my head.
Perhaps I am only dreaming, like a child, but the dreams are pleasant. I will lie in them a while longer.
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