"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.
03-18-2014, 12:52 AM (This post was last modified: 03-18-2014, 12:53 AM by Torleik.)
Torleik
A lone man loved by none:
How long can he live?
Home.
Strange that he considered this place as such. The herd had come together, met once more and discussed the changes in ranks - changes that had given the newly minted General of the Basin many useful ideas.
One of which involved his mad cousin.
The rabicano stallion sent Irelyn out in flight to discover the whereabouts exactly of the Engineer, and followed her simple directions to find him. The shaggy stallion was alone, save for his hellhound, something that surprised Torleik about as much as the necessity of breathing to life was a shocker.
Ulrik had recently been appointed a weaver for the Basin and this was quite a fortuitous positioning, Torleik felt. The lands were back, the herds back, and though not a warmonger, the dual-horned demon knew the importance of the appearance of strength and unity. This, he hoped, would help convey both.
"Ulrik," he called out to his kin. "I have need of you."
Ulrik was stewing over the words of d'Artagnan, not at all impressed with that asshole. How many times had he stood next to the bay under Mauja's rule? The doctor and the mechanic, working on recreating the species not fortunate enough to be born unicorn? He had spoken of this to d'Artagnan when Mauja had brought back a very plain-headed creature, and now the doctor deigned to judge him and his potential creations? What had the bay done? Hm? The weak red stallion had been the first to fall in the battle of the Dragon's Throat!
The Engineer was disappointed that he had once considered d'Artagnan to be of a broader more intelligent mind, as he had obviously been wrong. Mining was a vital to recovering metals for the colossal machines which would stand point at the entrance, protecting them all as well as serving a message which soldiers alone could not handle. Futhermore, what soldiers was d'Art going to go get, hm? Ones who would fall first attack in?
Ulrik was not in a very good place, as his easily maddening mind usually went to dark places when allowed to obsess this much. If d'Artagnan had been any other species, then Ulrik would have found a pit for his body by now. He was not above setting traps for those who had wronged him in some way, though he would stay as far away from that dragon-bitch mare in the Edge as he possibly could.
Kirchoff also was not helping. The hound laid leisurely in the snow, cleaning one of his paws with his tongue.
"Aw, hurted feelings," the dog said in his brain, and the glare Ulrik leveled was wild with fury.
"Young and stupid are two very dangerous qualities you possess, Kirchoff. Do not speak on what you do not know..." he growled, silencing the sarcastic hellhound for the moment. Ulrik paced by the edge of the water, feeling the gravel squish between his toes, tail flashing wildly at his hocks.
Ulrik's head snapped up as his cousin called his name, and the stallion grit his teeth. Was there no place in this fucking valley in which he could plot murder in peace? The Engineer calmed though, knowing that none of this was Torleik's fault, and he took a deep breath before slowly his steps, coming to face the viking. "Does it involve maiming d'Artagnan?" he asked, words spitting from his lips. "Sorry. What do you need?"
Torleik could tell the moment he laid eyes on Ulrik that his cousin was in state. He paced wildly by the water and swished his tail with telltale anger; what had happened? Surely with Illynx and Deimos in place as the Basin’s leaders, there were no more higher management issues that the mad scientist was having to face. He was eerily fond of both the Reaper and the Gilded Blade, though the rabicano stallion knew not why. Both had their serious issues, issues which prevented them from properly becoming true, good rulers.
The Engineer’s words only confirmed his anger, though they allowed Torleik a glimpse into his cousin’s mind, to see what was irking Ulrik so direly. Who was this d’Artagnan? He’d never heard of him, but he had obviously done something to piss the bronze-marked male off. Was it the one who had made that comment in the herd meeting about soldiers? Who had questioned Ulrik?
“d’Artagnan? I know not of whom you speak, cousin. Why does he deserve to be maimed?” the blue-eyed rabicano inquired, seeking to understand before he jumped in to aid or disallow Ulrik from his completing his currently desired action. “Ah, I had thought of a project for you. Two, perhaps. Our…my people,” he corrected, “had one jarl. Every male would swear loyalty to the jarl when he was of age, and would wear a metal legband to signify this. Making one for every Basin male is perhaps too much, but maybe those of higher rank, like yourself and myself, could wear them?” he suggested with a shrug. “Sometimes trinkets of solidarity will breed the feeling itself.”
The dual-horned demon stood a little straighter, his original idea making his eyes glow bright with excitement. “I also wished to inquire about making warbanners for the Basin. A battle standard that numbers of us might carry into the fray that would let all those who faced us know without a doubt they were about to be defeated by the occupants of the Aurora Basin.”
Ulrik watched his cousin come over, and he quieted his pacing, coming to pause just in front of his much larger, muscular family member. Torleik had more than earned his respect. The stallion had not only challenged him for leadership but had pushed to be the general, bent on bringing glory to the herd and their kind. Also, he was family, and for as weird as Ulrik was, that still meant something. At least, it did to him. The Engineer had left his father's bachelor band, not out of anger, but out of upset. The warring tribe had not understood him or his creations, but they were still his family and on some days he missed them.
Not anymore. He had family now. Torleik.
Still, that did not fully calm the sour mood he was in, and the Engineer snorted in irritation, wrinkling his velvety, whiskered nose at the mention of his name. Torleik asked why he deserved to be maimed, and Ulrik grunted, the sound short and bitter deep in his chest. "He called me a knitter, Torleik," he growled, and perhaps that statement would have been funny if not for the dangerous glint in his bronze, mad eyes.
"The asshole of a doctor fell first in the battle against the Dragon's Throat, before you were here I think, he and Psyche both. I left. I am not stupid enough to fight a losing battle. He fell and disgraced us all and yet I am the knitter? Stupid enough to want to gather metal for the machine to save his sorry, lazy ass?" The stallion's voice raised as he ranted before he caught himself, pausing and quieting again. "Sorry." He muttered.
As he listened to his cousin's first request, Ulrik mulled over the idea thoughtfully. "I agree that this would be a good idea to forge brotherhood, however, I am not sure I can make something so simply metal. I forge machines, and I am limited if the band is not somehow autonomous - which may be entertaining..." he trailed off in thought, imagining the hilarity of Deimos starting at a machine leg band crawling up and down his upper thigh.
Ulrik watched the way Torleik straightened himself, blue eyes like brilliant lightning. He envied the way Torleik was so sure of himself and so eloquent, but in a way that was more filled with admiration. "I like the idea. If you can gather straight sticks, I will start on the standards. Any idea for a symbol? Crossed horns, perhaps?" he suggested.
It was funny, still, even with the murderous glare in his cousin’s eyes; but such a glint did stop Torleik from laughing aloud. That, and his awareness that Ulrik, mad as he was, would not want to maim someone just for a petty insult. There had to be more.
And there was. He listened attentively as the Engineer explained that this ‘doctor’ had been one of the first to fall in the Basin’s battle against this Dragon’s Throat (wherever that was and whoever they held), and disgraced the Basin because of it. “You do not need to apologize, cousin,” Torleik rumbled. “I would think the doctor is speaking out of shame, seeking to insult and shift attention from his own failures to any he might find in you,” he offered. “But if maiming becomes necessary…I will hold him down for you.” The general said this in a way that was just light enough to be mildly humorous, and just serious enough for Ulrik to know that if it came down to it, Torleik would side with him.
Ulrik indicated he could not simply make metal by itself that was not magically imbued, and the slightly older male frowned. That was frustrating. “Is there anyone who could simply forge metal?” he inquired. His people had special places for such a craft, a craft he knew well – but the Basin had no forges with which to heat and mold the natural substance. Shame. He suggested then that they make warbanners and Ulrik seemed pleased. That was good. “I will gather sticks – should I include the other crafter…what was his name? Farenjer?” Torleik inquired. “Hm. Crossed horns seems apt, and simple. I like it.”
Ulrik glared at his cousin when he laughed, and the stallion snorted in irritation. What? Was he really that funny when he was insulted? He glowered slightly and listened, but what Torleik said lastly resonated within his soul. The stallion looked up with furrowed brows. Was this what family was supposed to be like, then? Torleik would hold him down? Without really realizing it, a legitimate smile made his lips a little crooked, and he nodded.
"Thank you, Torleik," he grunted in his strange way. "I will... be there for you... too." Why was this always so uncomfortable? He meant what he said, but did it have to sound so... mareish?
The stallion shrugged at what Torleik asked him, remembering his time briefly in the Dragon's Throat. "There is a herd in the south that was building a metal wall of some sorts. I am sure they could. However... we tried to invade them once... so I can't imagine that asking them would go over well. Except they do not know you, maybe you could work it out..." he grunted, glancing up at his cousin.
Ulrik nodded. "If you can find him, sure. I do not know what the leaders might have asked him to do," the stallion said as he lowered his neck and started looking for little things to include on the banners. Then, he summoned the very fickled magic of weaving and created two, long banners that could go on sticks. They were thick enough, made of a brocade like material that would not easily fray. The background was a dark blue color with an off-white, furry fringe and below, small stones from the lake were braided in. Gently, he laid them over his back so that they would not get dirty, carefully examining the crossed horns he had made in the same off-white coloring.
"Found sticks yet?" he asked, moving to seek his family.
06-27-2014, 05:46 PM (This post was last modified: 06-27-2014, 05:47 PM by Torleik.)
Torleik The beard of glory...
The smile that curved Ulrik's lips pleased the Bloodskald and he smiled in return, aware of the importance of his cousin's uttered words of solidarity. "The loyalty is appreciated," the thicker stallion returned, their conversation shifting to business once more.
A herd in the south was trying to make a metal wall? Interesting. South meant hot, though; hotter at least. That was displeasing. The dual-horned demon snorted when Ulrik deigned to inform him the Basin had attempted to invade them once, so it was unlikely they would be friendly. "Of course. Why should we be on good terms with anyone?" Torleik asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he shook his head. "I may attempt something. I have yet to decide."
Hearing that Farenjer was potentially busy, Torleik snorted and set about his task of finding suitable sticks for these warbanners. In the meantime, Irelyn, who was supposed to be helping, became rather distracted by a slightly shiny, orange and reddish-hued splotch in the rocks nearby. Mouthful of sticks preventing audible queries, Torleik mentally asked what it was she so desperately wanted to look at this time.
'Rock!' she said excitedly and the rabicano came over to inspect where she had alighted.
'That looks like iron. That is metal in the rock,' he told her, setting the sticks down, now far more curious. His people had made a way to mine rocks that took a few hours once everything had been gathered and set up. But, he thought, gazing at his owl-griffin...Irelyn might cut that to mere minutes if they combined their magics.
"Irelyn, do you see that crack in the rock, just there? Get a talon in there and use your fire magic for a few seconds," the Bloodskald instructed. It would be good practice for the young companion, and useful if his theory held. The griffin scraped at the rock until one of her talons wedged into the crack as her bonded had asked, and feebly summoned her molten abilities a few times, feeling the rock heat up beneath her taloned foot. At Torleik's urging, she continued, heating and heating until she could not touch the rock any longer and was forced to take her foot away - at which point her bonded quickly shoved a hoof where she had just been.
Irelyn watched in fascination as water bubbled up due to his magic, steaming and hissing from the lingering heat of hers, before everything froze over. He seemed to wait for a few seconds before rearing slightly and smashing his hooves down, shattering the ice and chunks of rock. The pleasure he felt warmed their bond and Irelyn ruffled her feathers in pride, glad to be a part of whatever success they had just achieved - though she hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.
What she did know is that one of those reddish rock things had come loose, and she clutched it with her talons, inspecting it curiously. Iron, her bonded had called it. Metal. The other stallion who had a shiny leg came over then, speaking, and Irelyn kept hold of her iron, not wanting him to take it from her.
He was shiny, so maybe he liked shiny things too. But he couldn't have her shiny things. Even if her bonded did like him.
Torleik nodded towards the stick he'd gathered upon Ulrik's inquiry, but pointed a hoof towards the iron. "Seems we're a two-person mining crew. Where would you like me to take this?" he asked of his cousin, aware that Ulrik would be the one who would work with all metals in the Basin.
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