"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.
Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful I know you will
[Thought it might be a good idea to call another sort of meeting together so everyone can get in the current loop of knowledge :3 ]
The rising tide of emotions within Ampere was culminating into anger. She had let herself wallow in pity and sorrow long enough, but she would not idly lay down and rot in this cave while the world and the skies above were overwhelmed by some faceless enemy. She was reminded time and time again by her dreams of the large lava monster she'd helped to defeat within the Heart. It had seemed an impossible task at the time, but they had succeeded only because of their combined efforts.
She had not seen many combined efforts since arriving here. This was undoubtedly the largest collection of horses in one area and yet she knew fewer names than before. It was madness that they all had not been able to think of some solution by now. She had done her job as a warrior. She'd tried to fight them with Brighid, but her efforts were futile. She needed to know what others had come to find, to create a unified front and information center.
So Ampere wove her way through the rocky network back tot he illuminated room where she'd first found the W.A.R. effort being held. She glanced around at the various horses milling through, realizing she perhaps should have collected the ones she knew to be a part in all the little rooms first. She could try summoning them all, but she lacked the baritone that Gaucho or Archibald could boast. Still, she had been called loud mouth often enough, perhaps...
"HEY!" Ampere shrieked at the top of her lungs, the ending resulting sounding very much like an unhappy bird squawk. She cleared her throat, tossing her mane back against her neck for one more try. "W.A.R.! WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?"
Ampere's flanks heaved with the need for air when she had finished. Her wings flicked against her sides and she glanced about the room, the already present horses surely giving her wall eyes. Her ears swiveled, listening for some kind of answer, any answer. She was desperate to get out of here, weren't they? Or had they grown complacent here, ready to settle in? She knew the peace woven across the various herds would not hold once the terror had died down. Sickness and war would be running rampant before long and she was sure she'd be dead long before there from the madness of being unable to fly.
"Don't we want to get out of here?" She asked, quieter, breathless. "Have we given up, so soon? Surely there's more we can do, more we can learn."
02-15-2014, 02:07 PM (This post was last modified: 02-15-2014, 02:07 PM by Mauja.)
still a credit to your ruse, what a beautiful excuse to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
"HEY!"
Another of those gloriously rude awakenings. Mauja's blue eyes snapped open and he lunged to his feet, struggled for balance and breath—the cave roof was crashing in on his head as it always did when he woke, and the ground spun under his nose, a blur of lights. "W.A.R.! WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?"
What. The. Hell?
If anything, it sounded like a call to arms, for anarchy, rebellion here in the caves, to overthrow order and old herd-hierarchies and establish something new... Mauja's feet shuffled through the moss, and somehow he found himself standing upright, nares flared and head high. And spinning. But no army answered the lone call, no roar and ring of hooves upon the tunnels: nothing. No ragtag army. Blinking furiously to clear sleep from his mind Mauja pinned the source of the call with his eyes. It was a pegasus mare, and he recognized it as the electric bitch Irma had helped Crowley chase out of the Basin a long time ago. Well, fancy that. She was brazenly bold, and mad.
"We're waiting for you to shut the fuck up so we can think," he muttered under his breath. Had she had to pick this cavern of all to shriek in? His ears swiveled, heart still pumping furiously in defiance of his lingering cold, but he still caught the quieter words—well, she was certainly welcome to get out of here. He'd not stop her. Really.
Still, she had somewhat of a point, but being torn so rudely from sleep didn't put him in his best mood. With an annoyed flick of his tail he left the shadow of Irma's tree, sharing her resentment of the loud mare, and walked towards her at a leisurely pace. "I've learned that they're devils with a devil's endurance and drive to kill," he offered philosophically when he was close enough, a dry note in his voice. "You can be the bait this time, and we'll see what else we can learn." Because after all, he'd felt the sting of the wolf-child's teeth raking his hide more than once, the very breath choked out of him by Ophelia's bitch of a sister; the smallest cuts had closed into hairless black scars, too young to grow over, but the deeper still wore their dark-red itching scabs. Tail flicking idly at his hocks, Mauja flipped one ear back and rested a hind hoof on its tip—to provoke her when she yelled for action.
He wasn't opposed to reclaiming the surface.
He was just opposed to rude ex-trespassers waking him up with disorganized nonsense.
02-15-2014, 08:47 PM (This post was last modified: 02-15-2014, 08:48 PM by Africa.)
The resonating screech of a banshee’s voice spilt upwards through the stony corridors of her makeshift home, pulling the one-winged dapple grey mare from humble mediation by the Wall of History. Long listening ears swivelled quickly forward to receive the crude message born upon its shrill, obnoxious pitch and she knew instantly its electric blue owner. Each attentive satellite retreated distastefully into the sedentary smoulder of flaming grey mane; eyes narrowing all the while, apprehensive as visual memory of that day in the Threshold returned to the forefront of her mind.
They had been forced to live beside each other here where the air seemed stale and damp; without the luxury of space, with not the option to select the quality of neighbours and bed-fellows alike. It had been a steep learning curve for Africa in particular who had managed apparently to secure some of the finest enemies in the land- much of the Unicorn community, those who basked in the obscurity of night at the best of times; and Ampere (whose name she still did not know), who had launched a freak attack for reasons still quite beyond the grey’s logic. Never the less, the volatile creature below had sent out a summoning in the name of W.A.R, and against her better judgement, she could not forsake that effort of resistance headed by Gaucho. With lead-laden legs reluctant to sway to the demands of one such as the magical Pegasus mare somewhere beneath, Africa began an unhurried descent with Silas aboard, towards The Glowing Room, light well-positioned footfalls creating the faintest of clicks against the stone passage as she went.
It was the last place they had gathered, after all.
When she did finally slip between the gape of cold granite into the chamber holding the marvellous underground forest, pale yellow eyes began to scout through the stew of bodies present- some of whom had been stirred to life by frenzied words; others, grimly, still mulling with sunken heads by the perimeter. Ampere was not difficult to find, and right away Africa was conscious of the fact that Gaucho had not by then found her side at the head of his army. She wondered in pensive silence if the latest search party had returned- he among them, as many had not been seen for what she could only presume to be days. Another was speaking as she passed modestly towards the small group gathered. Neck sagged heavily, the weight of the ceiling’s presence like a tightly made prison upon her shoulders; and tail flicked idly with each dragging stride before she came to rest at a comfortable distance from the larger (than herself), spotted Unicorn. She could not remember seeing him previously, and so for the moment waited contentedly enough there.
Perhaps luck would be on her side today and the snarky blue Pegasus would hurl herself from the meeting indignantly; much like the last Africa attended.
02-15-2014, 08:51 PM (This post was last modified: 02-15-2014, 08:57 PM by Kari.)
Mauja wasn't the only one woken by the sudden ruckus. When the shrill sound of a shouting voice erupted in the cavern that normally only listened to the murmur of water and hushed voices drifting back and forth between the fungi-clad walls Kari too was startled out of his sleep. Disoriented and still half stuck in a restless nightmare the foal bounced up on his feet and staggered out from under the vine-covered tree where he had been resting, wild-eyed and with the pale, fuzzy tail-hair on edge. Seeing only adults littering the floor of the verdant room, one of which he recognized after their previous rendezvous in the labyrinth of caves and pathways, the young hybrid wobbled over to them on cloven feet and looked up, anxiously peering between them as they towered over hi. Sensing tension in the air like children often do, he wasn't sure that it would be a good idea to speak at all - but like most boys Kari possessed a daredevil streak that made his quest to sate curiosity far over-weigh the possibility of a telling off.
"Did something happen?" he asked and squinted the eyes in worry as he looked at the owner of the loud voice, a tall, fierce looking mare. She was a pegasus like his mom, he noticed, and almost as black - though rather than being stocky and tough as dry roots this lady looked thinner and more intense, like a storm cloud just before lightning struck. In the florescent light that emanated from the leaves of the underground plants the blue markings on her face and wings seemed to glow - an eerie sight that made the colt inch slightly closer to the more familiar frame of the white stallion.
"War... Is there a war coming?" he repeated, tasting the word without picking up the nuance of the word that suggested it being an abbreviation for something else entirely.
Normally the boy might have been able to pick out more from the spoken words. He was smart for his age with a mind that was over-developed, too used to pick out details and piece together concepts from the visions and conversations that flooded his mind from the surroundings. But he was tired, the mind beneath that curling forelock fogged with haunting images of rotting creatures chasing him through dark caves... so for once he sounded just as young as he was, a tiny foal speaking out of turn in a gathering where he probably didn't even belong. Perhaps, if he had spotted Africa things would have turned out differently - but as it was his attention was too locked on the exchange of words to pay much attention to other horses.
The fluttering sparrow, the fervent nightingale, the ardent dove gave no hint of listless, languid contortions; moving with the rock and rubble, combining with the ruins and distorting their silent, melancholy crescendos with the passionate flourish of her own melody. Rhapsody taken from the swell of her lungs and the heat of her vibrant resolution, steadfast determination, swindling and burning with the motion of her dedicated pace, free and swift, quick and unafraid. Enticed and cajoled from the innards and bowels of the unsung caverns, with their molten fortitudes and jungle warrens, their hidden fronds and wayward, tome tombs, pausing to catch a stolen breath, an intake of fine, subtle air, before executing unearthly motions, following the pathways of demands and commands. Dedication, her might, her sword, her commitment, balanced as her sole rapier, gallant and valorous, unwavering and devoted, reveries and raptures grasping for the divine rite of her laced ruminations, tracing and outlining the fortifications of their cause. Thorned and righteous, fairy and nymph, stolen from the sketched fixtures of darkness, journeyed into the bellicose veins to return the soulless, the heartless, the transformed and morphed back into their original figures; became witness to unholy strife and weighted malevolence, threw it across her shoulders and pressed harder into the earth. If they crawled, slithered and chased down the roots of their world, if they bent sinuously in the rampant, predacious slurs, she dreamt of wonder, spun sonnets that conquered demonic, mercurial murmurs. But was it enough? Had she strived to meet the bounty of the evil lurking in the midst and mist, striking into the abyss with mere fingertips spread beneath its dominant heresy? Could she do more, find other faults and weaknesses to chisel away at spells and invocations, to wipe away the rotting fixtures of her companions, her friends, her allies, her brethren, and even strangers, wiped clean of their former natures? Were there other methods to the pestilent madness? Were there other restoratives (like the Earth God’s gift, bubbling in mirth and requiem in the shade of glowing ambiguity)? Had there been other ailments slinking in the distance, claiming lives, heretics, infidels and the virtuous, robbed from their beds?
Her queries remained unanswered as she strove to meet the insistent call, wrapping her strides in rapid, abrupt strides, Imogen close behind, hastened and brisk, until they arrived amongst the gathered and fixated, for one moment, on the vaguely familiar cerulean mare – strong, dominating, and brazen. Given up? - the notion had never struck the courageous femme, and for an instant, she wondered if she had along the way, somehow forgotten a rhyme, a sonnet, an invocation to deliver light upon evil, to shirk away the frame of sinister, nefarious arms – but she was left muddled and rattled by the remnant. A distraction clamored immediately thereafter, a shock of further befuddlement and confusion ran rampantly down her spine and throughout her cranium, for there, muttering, was Mauja. A new spark of inquiries flashed across her crown, and she couldn’t voice a single one (where have you been? are you well? why do you keep leaving? Have we erred somehow? Do we disappoint you?), couldn’t invoke a warm gesture, a fleeting grin for an old friend, abandoned in the dust and dusk. Unsure of how to react, unsure of the meeting itself, of the large gathering of forces she suddenly belonged to, she stoked into barren silence, and searched for what she wished to convey. The barest hint of a smile curved across her lips, and her honeyed gaze settled back upon the fiery Pegasus, unraveling her knowledge, her muse, of her trials and tribulations. “They can be healed.” Kahlua, in a monstrous haze, baring down with savage intent. She paused, caught her breath in the midst of the throng, applied fortitude and spirit beneath the glistening glare of the winged femme. “I’ve done so using my magic, and have witnessed the Earth God give mending powers to a spring.” Then she hushed, Imogen scampering amongst her sienna forelegs, finished with christening the din with her wisdom. Hopefully, she’d be able to gather more as they poured from the reaches of individuals and travels.
her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
Cloaked in enmity, in antipathy, in rancor and avarice, he swindled and swept the caverns with the taut, rippling chords of daggers and cutlasses. The grotto made whispering motions he sought to destroy, made hums and croons vibrating along foiled apparitions, clung to the webbing and lattice of unsatisfactory sanctums. While he desired annihilation, extermination, slaughter in blackguard ruminations, demolition amongst unholy vitriol, he was tied and tethered within this ravaged sanctum. Poised for acrimony, wanton for devastation, yearning for bedlam, toiling and turbulent for maelstroms, and incapable of striking the meticulous chords – and all the while he brewed, felt the strands of Machiavellian designs and croons wrap their coils around his skull, breathe fervent, howling, harpooning ferocity. The Reaper clawed and cawed for the measures of violence, for the reeling menace and distortion, for the perilous clarity of treachery, soldiers falling, saints perishing, bloodied masses lamenting, dirges unrepentant and flowing, but only silence stretched between the crypts’ walls. Heinously, he ravaged their heart-spun sinew, and when only the hushed quietus, the layered demise, was left in the vacant corridors, he strived further animosity, king of nothingness. The Reaper, the demon, the unholy, rancorous fiend, bit into infernal, hallowed grounds and said naught when they bled from his ichor, from his wrath, from his loathing, and only followed the trace of loud sounds, a din wreaking and chasing, in effort to obtain information. War and all its vices, all its desires, all its wanton, torrid beliefs pulsed and pervaded throughout his system, caged and carved, blended sinuously into the rampant, devouring strides, unwavering persecution maddeningly lacerating, ripping, tearing into the mysteries, enigmas, of this world they’d been forced into. He refused its iron bars, its molten, infernal oubliette, its searing, delicate void, and still, had to remain within its barbaric hold, when all he cherished was left in unknown tombs and sepulchers, adrift in its barbaric winds and mountaintops. Living death placed in an eternal capsule, vicious and vehement, cruel and callous.
Loud, bleating fragments of conversation leapt and bound across the halls, what are you all waiting for? and he clenched his jaw on the answer – opportunity, throats left flayed and open, strangled and suffocated, blood dripping across stony floors. Instead of offering the retort to the raucous din, to the sudden appearance of his shadowed, Hades’ exterior and the once-matching sovereign nearby (Mauja, always signified by ice and vanishing acts), he serpentined into shadows and ravines, pressed himself into hollowed pathways, lent an ear instead of a voice. His healer proffered her sentiments; his stare fixated momentarily upon the familiar silver Pegasus, once an intruder (and would it take much to finish her as he’d done to her companion, foolish and idiotic, tracing their homelands with entitled volatility, leaving with only one living body in his wake?), and the other unknown frames sank into oblivion, nonchalance, apathy. Deimos had naught to offer but the antagonistic press of his vices, burning hearts away, sending cinders and ash across hapless bones, and remained in the pernicious throngs of soundless tyranny and intimidation.
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com image credits
Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful I know you will
It was a small group that awoke from the dark. Ampere's voice had been a flare of hope, shot into the murky wilderness of the night. It summoned, called, begged for those still surviving, still fighting to gather into the force they needed. Alone they would accomplish so very little, but together? Together they would overcome this plight.
Don't they understand that? she wondered piteously, the blue of her gaze sweeping over the few bodies that lifted from the soil. It's as if they were slumbering golems, each shaking off bits of moss that had taken root during their inactivity. Ampere was horrified to find the green fur had begun to grow on her as well.
They had fallen into despair within these caves. They had grown complacent, accepting this fate as the only inevitability, or were waiting for the gods to grant them another one.
The gods were just as equally waiting for them.
Ampere snorted, the outrage budding in her chest like a second heart beat keeping tempo in every corner of her body. She could feel it kicking madly as Mauja spoke, his voice a spark to the gasoline leaking from the ceiling. Lub dub - lub dub - lub dub her pulse responded, a roar in her ears that came thrashing off her tongue, wild in its heat and its haste. She would make them understand if they lacked the ability within themselves.
"There's been more than enough silence to think already! Now is the time to act!" her feathers bristled with fervor of her voice, a passion so encompassing she did not even recognize the foul snowman of the north as a villain of her past. He was merely a soldier holding a sword that was achingly void of wraith blood.
Ampere settled as he spoke again, proving himself capable of being more than speckled noise. Her gaze sharpened on him, her focus intense as she listened, her ears so hungry for his words they nearly tore themselves off her poll. "That's not a bad idea," she murmured after him, ignorant to his poor intention. Her attention was so wholly placed upon how to eradicate the wraiths that she was blind to nearly everything else. Even Gaucho's scent would not be sufficient to break her resolve this time.
"If we got enough attacking them, or if we could trap them, trick them... they must have a weakness." She was thinking mostly out loud, the idea rough as it unraveled in her mind's eye. She had fought the wraiths once too and found the results similar to Mauja, but it had just been her and Brighid. If there were more of them, an army of them fighting a wraith, well then even the mighty fall.
Her thoughts were distracted by a new voice however, one that drew her gaze down and down further to eye the child. She did not rebuke his presence, as some might - she would have done the same in his place, no matter her age. She was still very much a child by most means anyway. She did however, crack a small laugh, though one more bitter than humorous. "A war has been raging, else we would not all be hiding down here like moles." Before her anger got the better of her again though, a gentler voice emerged from the din. One that brought more hope than Ampere had yet experienced since first galloping into the sanctuary.
"Healed?" she repeated, excitement evident in her question. "Are they the...same? After?" Ampere asked, more slowly now. She hadn't known anyone who'd been turned, but she knew of others who grieved for their friends and families lurking above ground. She'd thought them gone once they turned, but this gave a renewed joy. Could the wraiths not only be defeated, but also all saved?. She was breathless, afraid a noise too strong might shatter this moment that was surely a dream.
"We can heal them all then! If we work as a group, as bait" her gaze touched on Mauja, "then they will come, and we can make them better. We can stop this."
[sorry if I did not take note of each character individually, was trying to avoid this post being huge :x ]
still a credit to your ruse, what a beautiful excuse to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
( I didn't mean for anyone to hear what he muttered, but it's okay ^^' )
"That's not a bad idea," she replied, thoughtful almost in all her erratic, eccentric restlessness. Mauja snorted. It would only be a bad idea if it involved using him as bait, because then it would likely turn into him being a corpse instead. Sick and wounded, he was not in any shape to lure anyone or anything, and when she'd spat of inactivity and giving up, he felt somewhat excused. He wasn't in any shape to be particularly useful, aside from fueling her fires. And whether he did that out of altruism, or because he wanted to see her burn—well, that was up for debate.
More harked to her call. A gray, one-winged mare he didn't recognize, who stood in icy, tired silence, and another smaller, familiar shape. With sleep still in his eyes and voice, Kari spoke, and Mauja gave him a slight nod of recognition, and hid his mild surprise. The child didn't know what was going on? Why they were down here? It struck something in his memory, something similarly said or stated, but he forgot what it was before he had the chance to grasp it. The blue mare spoke to him, though, explained a little, leaving Mauja to still stand in silence until a new voice broke through his fever-dim haze.
“They can be healed.”
Slowly, as if to whip his head around would make it hurt (which it would), Mauja craned his neck to look at the bay mare. She, Kahlua's savior; she, who always smiled, and breathed joy into the world—except for now. She wore no smile. And in the shadows behind her lurked another familiar presence, dark and draining and dangerous. Deimos. If they would look at him, meet his blue eyes for a moment, he would dip his head in recognition, but offer no words, no verbal greeting. Where did he stand with them? Had he betrayed them, or only failed them? Which was worse?
He let his attention fall back on the Pegasus mare; she was a fire trying to ignite wet wood, a spark trying to move a boulder. None in the meeting seemed particularly impressed or interested. "Go ahead," he responded callously, voice rough, simply because his throat was rough. "I'll be right behind you but don't expect me to be fancifully light on my feet."
So flippant, so careless, toying with the lives of another; oh Mauja, who knew that waking you up so rudely put you in such a foul mood?
He followed the conversation with jerking turns of the head as words were exchanged between the grown ups, bewildered and almost regretting at first that he had said anything at all. The more his brain cleared the more he remembered from Africa's explanation, and as the haze of sleep cleared from his brain the youngster found his blurted out question stupid and thoughtless. Kari swallowed nervously as the attention of the blue-black mare fell on him, her vocals thankfully tolerant; the words stung on his hide like nettles none the less as they brandished him in the eyes of everyone around as nothing but a child,, young and ignorant and out of place.
Bashing himself inwardly, he bit the tongue to keep himself from speaking anymore, instead trying to follow the flow of speech. Mauja's nod gave him slightly more courage and received a tense, quivering smile in return - then the attention of the boy suddenly snapped towards a bay unicorn lady as she said something that made his hopes flare up like wildfire.
They could be healed. There was hope. There was no telling whether his mother had become like that monsters that had attacked him, but considering how frightened everyone was it was highly likely. It had gnawed on him, this fact that even if he did find Shadow she might simply attack instead of rejoice at seeing him - not that she would be very happy to have her shackle of a son back by her side - but now, if the words of this lady were true it might be possible to help her go back to normal.
Suddenly impatient the colt waited for the adults to finish talking, and as soon as there was a moment of silence he broke in, speaking louder than before as he addressed the lighting-kissed pegasus.
"You should help me, then!" he said and slipped further ahead in the crowd, vibrant eyes adamant as he stared up at her. "My mom is somewhere up on the surface, she saved me from a monster. I want to help her, but I need more horses to come along. Africa said she would go, and if you and Mauja came along too..." He threw a quick glance at the spotted stallion, hopeful but not exactly demanding in his request; he had a feeling that it would be hard to force his former playmate into anything if he didn't want to do it.
"I can be bait. I will do anything if it would help save Shadow."
Then he held his breath, forcing his body to remain still as he waited for a response. This was it, his best chance of getting the help he so desperately needed in order to make the world right again.
03-02-2014, 04:55 PM (This post was last modified: 03-02-2014, 04:57 PM by Dragomir.)
DRAGOMIR
hoping for the best, just hoping nothing happens
He can’t help but overhear the conversation happening in the room of glowing vines that he has wandered into in his search for the recipient of the glass crown grasped in his lips, as loud as the one mare is. He looks over every time she enthusiastically plunges her voice into the more stable and calm tones of those who have gathered around her, at first annoyed though mildly interested in the topic at hand.
Wraiths; he thinks of the unicorn her tied feathers to, the black one that dangles in his tail that she gave to him in exchange. None of those horses are Ranjiri or Roskuld, but they might be Shadow. He lingers in the room long enough to feel the walls of his irritation at the loud mouthed pegasus fade away.
Eventually, he found himself drawn into the folds of the conversation, standing along the fringes of the gathered group until he finds a familiar face; sidling in quietly alongside Africa (while she was winged, he didn’t know anyone else and not a one was his species and one was even a mutant child), he gives her a soft look should she glance his way and then turns his focus back to those speaking. The blue and black feathered thing is making quite the pivot point, drawing all eyes to her each time she spoke – perhaps not because of her charisma, he can’t help but think, more than the volume and vibrancy of her voice.
She put Kahlua to shame with this overabundance of energy.
Arriving at the tail end of the conversation about healing, he listens with interest to know that the demons can be restored to their former selves. He is sure there are members of the Edge out there, lost in the shadow; it would do him well by the Queen of Dragons to at least seek out a few. Sure, he had aided Finn and was even now doing a task that served the herd (the Glazier’s trinket for the mare called Shadow of Dragon’s Throat hung from his mouth), and he hadn’t done anything else blasphemous in the eyes of his leader since the incident that shall not be named, but it still does not repay the debts that he owes to Mirage, even if she does not know his indiscretions.
And then the child opens his mouth, and Dragomir nearly groans aloud, a piteous sound that he swallows down with his pride. It would have to be the little freak child, wouldn’t it? He looks at his hooves and longs for a time travelling device that would allow him to go back in time and politely refuse Kahlua’s request
Even if it meant she didn’t like him as much as he would like her too. It saved him from having to go save the mother of this… thing, who was likely a monster herself, changed by the wretched disease.
Slowly, he places the crown down and stands near enough to protect it from the hooves of others while he speaks to the child.
"This crown is for Shadow," he says when he’s got his eyes back on viewing level (which doesn’t take much – he’s a tall guy, after all), gesturing down at the glistening object with his muzzle. He ponders just leaving it at that and walking away – until he remembers that he was supposed to get items in exchange for the crown. And, while he was sure Africa would gladly assist him as soon as they were able to freely visit the oasis, it would take much less explaining to have Shadow herself participate in the trade.
And how would he explain it to Kahlua?
Oh, sorry, the poor helpless thing had been turned into a monster and, after her son begged for help to save her, I left it with him. No leaves either.
He could already see her crestfallen face, and the thought of disappointing her so deeply as to lose the light of her smile whenever her eyes fell upon him was painful. He refused to accept that he was so deeply embedded in the dead God of his father that he could not fulfill the simple task of bringing the crown to at least the proper customer – no matter that the endeavor was no longer as simple as it had initially been planned to be.
He frowns openly and without shame, too stuck in his own thoughts to uphold a proper facade. He doesn’t even give a damn that he’s supposed to be acting sociable and business like; all he wants to do is become someone else quite suddenly and without warning.
After a moment of contemplation on his situation, he decides on a route of honor to appease his most beautiful and wise teacher; perhaps, he hopes, it will cleanse his soul some of the black blood that stains his hooves, the marks of his foolish and overly excitable battle sense.
Maybe doing this will make everything okay again.
"I can go with you," he says begrudgingly, swallowing his discomfort with the whole situation in exchange for his grim expression to remain in place for the remainder of this ridiculous quest. He gestures towards his tail and the branch woven into it, looking about the group before explaining his encounter with the undead unicorn mare. "I met a wraith in the tundra, and assisted her with a task in exchange for some things. They are capable of reason, to some extent – but that isn’t really the point…" his finishing words are mumbled as he shuffles his hooves awkwardly under the weight of their eyes, "Anyway, I was attacked by a second wraith, and the branch reacted most immediately; a green light spread across my body and protected me from the fiend."
He pauses and looks over to the blue and black pegasus, the strange female who was so willing to throw herself to wolves. "We don’t need literal bait if I can’t be hurt…assuming it still works."
Oh, if only he knew exactly who it was he had just volunteered to be juicy steak for.
a thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins (I won't ever ask if you don't ever tell me)
Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful I know you will
Ampere's resolve fortified as the meeting continued, its stream steadily rising in those willing to act. Her fervor evolved from a wild flame into a radiating heat that filled her up and made her buoyant, carrying her through the drift of misery she'd previously been wallowing in. This was what she'd been waiting for, action.
As to what to act on, Kari resolved that question with the plea to cure his mother, Shadow, a mare Ampere knew. The name hollowed her, echoing through the corridors of her mind and leaving a weight in her chest. This was finally it then, someone she knew had turned - this apocalypse just became personal on a whole different level. Her feathers ruffled as her hairs prickled with the eerie sensation of it all.
"Of course we will," she replied hastily after Kari, her nerve fortified. Her teeth together with a crack, her eyes burning as they glanced from each in turn, lingering upon the new arrival Dragomir who spoke up and offered his body to the cause. Ampere nodded at him, grateful for his help. This would all be for naught though if there was no cure. They all knew the worth in simply trying to fight the creatures.
For that Ampere looked to Lena, the success of their mission resting on her withers. "Will you heal her if we can bring her to you?" Ampere asked, but she already suspected the answer. Who among them that had gathered didn't want to see this hell end?
"Kari, wherever you saw her last she may still be, can you lead the charge? But when the time comes, stay safe."
Shadows shifted: a child begged for his mother (a name she recalled, from the deep denizens of darkness, then an uncomfortable atmosphere, as if she’d intruded on her own solitude), Mauja offering himself for bait, the stormy femme proclaiming their actions. It circled in swift, turbulent motions, caused her to focus on too many things at once; overwhelmed, but willing, always willing, to lend aid, to proffer a hand, to selflessly grind against nefarious, heartless machinations. Her wonder was reserved for another hour (because she’d like to delve and puzzle over why Mauja was willing to throw himself into claws, scythes, and daggers, she’d like to mull over Shadow’s colt, burrowed and buried in sanctuary); greater means, minds, and speculations lingered, gnarled, knotted, tangled over the din. She held too much purpose to stray, to sway, to bend and break against the rubble and walls, to flutter anxiously or comb the apprehensive innards and entrails of their sanctum – driven, resolute, adamant and persistent, wings of the persevering and dust of the unwavering. Her features, not kindling a grin, extended in a stubborn set, a fierce brow, an undaunted fortitude, tenacious, staunch, valorous, a vessel tipping towards the heavens, dipping along the restless gallows. Imogen, standing between her forelegs, drummed a steadfast hymn between purrs and chirps, mastered the conjectures and sentiments of her companion, schooled the murmurs and croons of a dedicated fey and her vixen. The nurse’s voice melded and folded into the crowd, orchestrated the arias, the tunes, the dedication of a compassionate, benevolent soul, sculpted, imagined, coiled and contorted into the considerate sylph. “I’ll save you a trip and accompany you.” She’d enter the fray alongside the brethren of volunteers, breathe the infidel air, pursue and snake through the relentless oeuvre, come out whole and restore the beaten, the broken, and the baleful. She wasn’t placed upon a pedestal, held no paragon entity, had roamed into battlefields, had whispered and sang remnants of requiems, had made tranquility simmer beneath the damned, and agreed to do it over and over again, assuaging, soothing, the barbs, the thorns, the nettles piercing and puncturing their acidic traces. Another blessing sinking into the earth could only help to renew, revive, and in time, permit them to forget the woven threads of chaos, pestilence, and desecration.
her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
The deep, shade engulfing the room and the cool iridescence penetrating that, fed a sense of loose- tranquillity through a mare who was none too pleased with the company she had come down to mingle between. The slight weight of her heedful companion settled beneath a small flurry of wing-brushed, dank air upon the pitch of her withers- the flames curling through mottled, oily mane where it tumbled idly to rest along her neck and shoulders, flickered with delight. She could feel the delicate grasp of his razor-sharp talons sinking beneath the sleek thin canvas of hair (that which had never thickened to bear the full brunt of the terrible winter above ground), and it brought her comfort to know he was close. The mythical avian cawed softly, shifting in place to wrap the clean, black downy feathers lining his breast around against the uneasy flinch of her. He could still not bring himself to preen the tangles from her flaming mane; the element rampant upon her was one his instincts warned him fiercely away from, and so he ran the curved bridge of his beak against her affectionately instead.
Others came, though the one-winged mare’s focus remained on the blue creature ahead or any who passed between- even as the young colt Kari came forward, pastel eyes shifted not to identify the crowd gathered. Credulously (and with steady surveillance nestled and waiting), she imagined that her foes would not use this opportunity where so many gathered between prison-like walls, to rebel. The boy spoke with the same brazen innocence she had been drawn to when they had met for the first time by the Wall of History. She couldn’t help bristle a little, breath snagged by tightening lungs, when he approached the Pegasus who had called them forward- he was young, frail in a sense, and she worried for his welfare. Certainly she was taken aback when his brave, but childish voice revealed an offer to act like bait before the snapping jaws of a wraith.
Certainly the information to follow was news well received, and Africa turned swiftly, impulsively, to find the source. Three or four others had gathered, though her gaze sought carefully only the mare who had healed such filth. She was a unicorn, a bay and though the one-winged horse felt boiling animosity surge within, she clamped tightly her jaws together and turned back. Another spoke, a voice more familiar, and again the thick line of her crest curled to view the stallion who had once been a friend (by association of territory), and listen. He told them of the magical, defensive properties of a branch- he gestured, but she could not see that which was referred to from the awkwardness of the angle shared between them. Never the less she smiled quietly at his proposal, touched too by the quite aloof manner she had found so… uncomfortable, that day by the lava-heart of Helovia.
Eventually the dark-hued vixen’s tone began again to resonate through the chamber’s soft twilight; excited, motivated- all of which Africa was too nervous to find within the fainthearted depths of her core. As the blue eyed mare’s attention switched towards the healing mare behind, the grey noticed curiously the flutter of feathers jerked from their bed in her shadowy mane. She too wore the signet of avian heritage- and others too stored safely in the satchel slung about her elbow. "Of course, Silas and I will join." Intrigue perhaps blurred her common sense in that moment, and the gesture was made far more easily than her flailing conscience might have preferred. Silas on the other hand, stiffened suddenly, readily- not nearly as meek-minded as the second half of his heart.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[O] What if the storm ends | [W.A.R.] Meeting
HP:42.5
