"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.
It's more than the heat raining down upon her back, more than the distant sight of thundering clouds that scream monsoon that take her back to the sand covered herd land of the Dragon's Throat. A heavy weight holds her heart down. It falls into the pit of her stomach, pooling and rotting that like the flesh on Amara, or who Amara used to be. The image is so fresh within her now dry eyes is so clear and new that with each blink, it's right there to remind her.
The wind caresses her face and ruffles the tangled mess of deep shaggy hair, the feathers strung in her forelock pushed back with the wind. They could easily be careless and shift away, float off into the breeze where the ocean could be lucky enough to claim them, she would never care.
All beneath shifts with her slow steps. Heavy with humidity, the air gains new feeling of disgust to it. It'd be nice to recoil her whole casket of a young girl soon becoming woman's body into cave and not have to come out for months. It'd run the high risk of never having to face the world again, of starvation and becoming a pale statue of bones, of coming out and not knowing the name of anyone out there, but it was something she found worth it.
Haunting like a confused ghost, it lingered within the back of her head when her head was held low and her tail limp, body tried and weak, passed through the walls of the Throat. For only a few seconds, her gaze laid itself upon the structure and stared. The faint memory of the night when she met a great many here at that wall passed through without much thought.
A sigh parted her and the silence of afternoon heat. She knew what to look for, but not who exactly. Regrets fill her; she's lacked the time to try and remember, to get those lost parts and memories back so that they weren't to notice. Her depressing state played an evil hand,took her betting money and left her confused.
@[Africa] @[Ampere] @[Sohalia]
OOC: I only need one to come in, don't care who it is.
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?
The weight of stormy grey building across the horizon to the north brought both a strange, forlorn heaviness to her young, ambitious heart; and one of sparkling excitement. Of course rain was not an unfamiliar tone upon the dry, desolate desert landscape. The monsoonal season had passed through each year, filling the Throat itself so that banks were breached and the central lower parts of the territory inundated entirely. All the while the lush, emerald foliage whose roots sang out for the wet spell seemed to shimmy their leaves, dust washed away, and native creatures braved the wild downpours to dance and cleanse their weary skin. Birdsong, regardless of the overwhelmingly sticky humidity, and flooding which was as inevitable as the darkness of night and brightness of day, was most welcome; and even celebrated by any sharing the sandy dunes or calling the oasis home.
This time though, she had not the company of Midas to ride out the wet, and watch the flurries of water channel towards the lake- the ocean.
It was yet to rain, but the pressure was building through the atmosphere and Africa’s skin danced and flinched wickedly as streams of hot sweat meandered down her swaying, walking body; working together to form minute, crooked waterfalls whenever their traction fell away. She was wandering towards the border, forcing her lazy weight against the lash of the thick, warm wind as it spilt relentlessly in from the mainland beyond the thrash of new sea. She could not sit idle like once she might have during spring, an unmoving harbour for flies and gnats wishing for themself an easy feast of blood and sweat. The dappled creature felt now the different pull of responsibility; of commitment, and restlessness because not yet had their fine deity’s desire been met. The herd was small still, and quite humble compared to the roaring army and hum of activity that once formed its core. She knew the foundations had been laid though, and that greatness could not be achieved so easily.
It had not been passed down so freely to she and Ampere like it had Midas, and then Gaucho as well. This time, they would need to pour all of their energy, heart and determination into forging a new name for Dragon’s Throat. It would be a masterpiece built from crumbled ruins.
Silas cawed fiercely from the air not far ahead of her ambling path.
Soft-yellow, narrowing eyes chewed through the horrible glare to where his looming black shadow had paused to flutter in place. There was another horse there, she realised quickly, and without the shy innocence that might once have held her back, Africa pushed forward with a little more conviction to meet them. Already they had passed beyond the tattered remains of wall marking the narrow strip of bridge binding them to the rest of Helovia- but she was not so fast to condemn, especially during these truly early days. It was a fine thing apparently, because the lithe amber mare (caught perhaps still between the ungainliness of childhood and the glory of physical maturity), was more than familiar. "Sikeax!" She called, new cheer filling a soft, tender voice that had been strained through recent days by the burden set about her puddly-grey shoulders; upon her brow, fashioned in gold and a constant reminder that she had massive obligation to nurture.
They had spent a night together some time ago before Helovia’s Darkest Hour, beneath a rouge tree’s generous arm span for shelter from a bleak storm of sorts. The conditions had been frightful, but less so for the friendliness of this girl and her lovely attitude. Africa certainly held no qualms closing the gap between now, and went so far as to welcome her desert sister home with fluttering nostrils gesturing forward in friendly greeting. The despondent nature of Sikeax’s young stride did not pass the enlightened mare’s thoughts either, and concern fractured her expression; where the simple delight of their reuniting lit up the pale white mask of her face. "Come to me, what burden’s you so?" Africa’s heart leapt into the base of her throat, throbbing pitifully for one soul who had seemed so far beyond the pits of such despair. Times had been touch though, and many had been wounded by the sickness; the darkness. "You’re home now, you are safe." Dry lips were sent to fondle affectionately the feathers twirling violently in the breeze above the weight of her limp forelock- the gold among them, of course, drawing her appeal.
She's about there, lingering through broken gates like a phantom enters a home to haunt, when the silence is no longer the roar of waves tossed inland and the wail of winds coming in. The pair of eyes shift up from their down-pointed state to greet the arrival of a bird, one she's struggling to remember the name of when she's seen him before. On any normal day, she'd be more than willing to welcome him with a soft smile to beam upwards to him. Now, it is nothing more than just a hazy glance from a pair of tired eyes that tell her depressed story.
Who comes next is one she remembers well, the single winged mare coming towards her with the filly's name washed across her lips. The avian's name passes her thought know and she recails the night of a storm beneath a tree she had been fond of before she lost a section of memory. Africa and Silas.
They come straight towards her, the light touch of Africa against her bouquet of feathers and the sweet voice of the other female brings a slow relief to her that spreads down her veins like sap being tapped from a tree trunk. She could push herself into it, to welcome the touch of someone she knows will not have harsh words to use against her, but it never comes from her. Chances would be that it could fall unwelcome and she see's it wise not to go about it. "Africa, Silas..."
She cannot find a part within her that knows if they see her as a friend. She's in no place to count her friends, to see who trusts her and knows her name. They welcome her home and her heart shifts a bit in the pit of her stomach. It warms itself at the thought of having something to come back to.
"I have done a great deal of wrong, but my mind put a fog in front of what I have done. Please, if you know, what has happened?"
A soft pleading, asking if this is truth or fiction, is released to the mare and her companion. She hopes for the best, that Africa could only tell her why she is cursed to live this life.
OOC: Sikeax has no recollection of the Darkest Hour SWP, so feel free to fill her in if you want!.
The grey fussed for a few moments, tending to the girl’s withered appearance like a mother to her child; brushing thick oily forelock tendrils meshed together aside at last to reveal the truth of the sadness haunting pale rimmed-blue. Immediately the insightful creature was aware that something was terribly amiss, and her mouth hummed quietly the worry building through her mind. Africa had not reason to act with any less affection- Sikeax was family, had lived upon these very sands beside her, no matter the infrequency of their meetings. That had always been the way of the Throat clan before the darkness, for as long as she had dwelt there; they were sisters of the sun.
When the other spoke, the one-winged Pegasus stepped away to offer the comfort of space, and the warm wind whirled swiftly to offer their nostrils the sour, brackish delights of coastal living. She did not quickly understand though, and the tranquil white mask beyond her pensive expression tilted responsively; attentively. Much wrong had swept through Helovia in recent months, and both fear and suspicion still iced much of the remaining population, but Africa could not decide if perhaps Sikeax (for some reason), held herself in one way or another responsible- of course, the sickness had been no one’s fault in particular. Again thoughtful eyes roved the length of the young horned creature’s forequarters, scrambling for some clue as to what trouble had swept the joy clear of her spirit. The only evidence prevalent to suggest something untoward however, was the worn nature of her appearance; the sagging posture, unkempt coat and grief-stricken glaze through her eyes.
"Can’t remember?" She mused quietly, ponderingly, more to herself than the champagne girl. There were snippets of her own life that were blank and empty; moments that her mind had pushed into the voids of oblivion for the sake of brittle sanity, and even now while she stood with new strength, Africa could find no trace of those moments passed. Empathy flooded her heart, and the mare stepped forward again to console her sister with quivering lips flush against the rough canvas of a neglected cheek. She whispered tenderly, "Walk with me. Let’s not stand like we don’t belong, here by the gates." She pulled her face away and turned to lead Sikeax further inland- to where the lake’s purity would shimmer light against their breasts and the lush gardens of green would soothe away burden of desolation.
Silas cast a watchful eye upon the pair as they began to move again, circling high above so that the radius he patrolled by their side remained vast.
As she walked, slowly and patiently; unwilling to push the tired soul across the brink of whatever capability remained, Africa asked curiously, "What is your last memory? Was it before the cave?" She had no way of knowing the extent of Sikeax’s violent curse- those, after all, who had been taken to serve the darkness as hungering, vicious wraiths had been quite unrecognizable to both their families and their friends. The grey knew not even whether Helovia’s Darkest Hour held any significance in this situation; as wretched as it seemed to be. Regardless, she would try most gently to probe the other’s frail mind and find out the turn of events leading to now- to help, and support her young friend.
Touch was taken away, the feeling of the other's breath against her swept away and lost. No complaint rises from her dry, cracked lips. Warm air and her traveling has made it so that she could not release herself of thirst, to bathe where the abnormalities could depart from her and a partner to help groom the mess of her once lovely locks. Africa's gentle actions to her at the most she's received since her last memory came to happen.
Her companion had taken her through the gates, walking at a pace that worked well with the yearling's tired state. All ached, asking, begging, pleading for some relief. Now was not her time to offer that.
"I don't know anything about a cave. My memories ended when it was last warm like this. I'd been sleeping in the sand, enjoying the early morning breeze before the Sun burned the earth as it does, when something got me moving. My legs took me to whatever place they wanted to go, and I went straight to the Spectral Marsh.
"My best friend, Amara, was part of the Asylum there. I got there, and things were happening. Things that aren't supposed to happen. The dead, they had to be walking. It felt so evil and I found her and we tried to leave.
"I guess I hit my head something hard, because I woke up in the Threshold in the snow, with these feathers and Amara standing before looking like a rotting corpse. I took off and came here."
The memories passed through her brain with pain, spreading through her in the form of a headache that refused to back down. Her legs lock up and she's shaking her head, desperate to remove agony from her. Her vision captures the sight of the oasis before them, offering her relief. It seems so soothing, the idea of pushing her body into the cooling body of the lake.
It hurts to ask the question, but she's becoming a desperate person these days.
"Africa, I don't mean to seem to be rude or bothersome, but do you believe we could take a bath together and wash away the sin?"
Sin becomes the word pressed against her tongue that makes her rethink who she is for a moment, of what she could offer her family in her current state.
A long charcoal ear slipped conscientiously towards the side the horned mare followed upon, and there it listened, soaking up the weary tone of the other with dutiful, unwearying interest. Africa held not a heavy hand over those she came across; her method was quiet and thoughtful, perhaps unlike any of those who had taken their place before the God of the Sun before her. She had been born neither to drive forward courage and conviction into the perils of war; nor did she possess the strength at all to hold her own against those who had. The dapple-grey brought an air of grace and humility into a land famed for all of the qualities she failed to wield. And so she listened intently to Sikeax, both patience and sympathy spilling with the shining flecks of sweat across her warm hide. There was no creature who lived between the dunes of the desert, who she did not sport enormous care for- whether they shared that consideration or not.
The softly coloured girl revealed quickly that the trauma of their underground stay (for many it had been so awful), lay not among those recollections still available. Africa’s sandy eyes wandered across their path, lashes narrowing across their concentrated stare as she thought back to what she had been doing before the descent and eventual disintegration of that herd they had known. Her own memories came swiftly, fortunately- they had lifted the patron of Dragon’s Throat at last to sit upon the pedestal he was owed; Midas and Gaucho had brought them all to meet beneath the limestone waves of red and white. Those formations were now lost with the great beginnings of their wall- now buried beneath the churn of wild ocean currents.
The one-winged mare imagined then that Sikeax’s restless legs had been the reason for her absence from that meeting- many had not attended.
Still she waited, holding comfortably the confident silence which had assumed the place of once reckless, outspoken youthfulness. Many things were explained that meshed together with the rumours echoed between cave walls. This sorry soul was not the only one to witness such horrors first hand, and the Marsh had not been the last to craft them. Africa remembered too the revolting ghoul, the half decayed wraith which had swept upon a conversation between Windwalker and herself so long ago now- it had happened not far from where she was guiding Sikeax in fact. Both had been spared their lives thankfully, but the event had haunted her slumber for many weeks following.
That had been only the beginning of the darkness...
As her company’s words faded, the story lingered between them; mystery and confusion filling the void of silence. Africa glanced ahead and was glad to see the streamer like tips of bright green palms flitting playfully against the stroke of the warm wind. Suspicion was not a sentiment that came quickly or easily to overwhelm the romantic mind of the grey- she had been called a fool before by many for the measure of her trust, and for now she could find only grief for the sake of the girl’s lost mind.
They paused, even before Africa’s thoughts on all spoken had begun to form sentences across her parched tongue, and Sikeax asked a rather strange thing; a favour, she thought, though perhaps the most unusual she had known. Certainly she thought it to be neither rude nor bothersome; crude faces fitting both descriptions flashed briefly before her eyes, but the champagne filly still was not among them. Rattling nostrils returned to brush the tattered coat of the other that could be reached. "If you wish Sikeax," she answered softly, kindly- naturally. "Will you be staying with us? I must ask... Dragon’s Throat has been your home, and will continue to be so, if that is your hope." The question was fair, curious. Strange times surrounded them, and the behaviour of some Helovians had become queer enough to stir plaguing doubt through the herd- and afar. Neither Africa nor Ampere were fool enough to presume their humble house safe from such wickedness and all minds had been forced open for the sake of their preservation.
She waited just beyond the welcoming aroma of the oasis; just clear of its dancing embrace. They would delve further to seek out Sikeax’s missing memories, and bathe together, only when the younger’s loyalty had been established.
The water was nothing but warm and inviting, holding arms wide and tempting her into enter it's body and to relax and soothe herself. Africa had given her to the permission to wade within, but there was something that followed after the single winged mare's permission. She had been asked if she was there to stay, to hold loyalty that was no longer vague as it was when she was still a young one with her father. Whenever the stallion's actions had taken him, they lacked the ability to be her problem now. Sikeax was reaching adulthood faster than she thought she would, and it was time to leave those sort of things in the past.
"This place has become more of my home than the Frozen Arch where I was raised at. I may of come in search of knowledge, but now, I don't see that need anymore. This is my home, you are my sister, the others are my family. I won't leave, and would once more like to offer healing services to the Dragon's Throat once again."
The sounds that fall out of her lips and fade backwards into her ears strengthen the headache's power. Her eyes press shut, lids squeezed down hard enough that she is creating thin wrinkles. Moments pass before the intensity of the pain passes down to a lower level of power, allowing her to slowly crack her eyes with pale lashes fluttering. The oasis seems to question her for a moment, only in her head does she think the water is actually speaking to her, but it holds a face to her eyes that shows one of worry as of her current state.
Her knees unbuckle with an easy step, the clouds rolling in with a heavy gust of wind that tosses her locks and sends her feathers flying into her left eye. She is slow in the process of entering the pool, letting the feeling of sin sweep off of her in waves. She goes in far enough that the water rises up to her chest, the honey shade of her coat darkening with the weight of water.
"How have things been here been? What caused the ocean to close in on us more?" She is no longer ready to get the idea of what happened to her memories now, more interested in escaping the talk that she had once been so ready to speak of. Patient as she could be, hanging her head low enough that the locks of her mane float across the top of the water and shift the surface to ripples, she waits for the feeling of Africa entering the water, to feel the ripples created by another against her skin.
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
