"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.
Say, say, say
Ain't it been some kind of day
You and me been catchin' on
Like a wildfire
</style>
With his memory restored and guidance from the Sun God given, Gaucho once again had purpose. The Throat was his home, its members his family. Although he would lay down his life for each and everyone one, there was one who stood out. One, who demanded and held his attention above all the others: Sohalia.
She had abandoned her position as crafter it seemed. The idea made him smile slightly - it had always amused him to see the pale dove covered in dust, ordering about others to move rocks and stones to places of her choosing. However it was not as strange as the idea of her leading. Gaucho was not so sexist that he was opposed to the idea of female leaders - even though Kri hardly appeared female, certainly it hadn't hindered her leadership. But Sohalia? The mare who could hardly move rocks on her own, was the last line of defense of the herd? Alongside the gentle and good (and one-winged) Africa? The idea still baffled him, and had it not been spoken from the lips of a God, the WildFire might not have believed it.
But what Sohalia had been doing during his time away was not what he wanted to discuss. For all of his simplicity, he could vaguely put together enough pieces of the puzzle to know that she would likely be cross with him. Their encounter in the caves - Ampere - his disappearance. Their bittersweet reunion. Sighing with the heavy burden of what was likely to be a long conversation, Gaucho waited.
He waited in the spot where they had first met - where Sohalia had fallen from the sky like a castaway angel, and their story had begun. He had sent Mara to find Astraeus, since the companions seemed to have some understanding, and to communicate the Soh should come to this spot. Given his return, privacy had been hard to come by. But hopefully under the cover of dusk, the two could be alone.
08-23-2014, 09:11 PM (This post was last modified: 08-23-2014, 09:11 PM by Sohalia.)
SOHALIA
When she came, it was with a certain shyness, a slow walk, a lowered head, bi-colored eyes that flickered from his form to the sand beneath her hooves. She had been Sultana, crowned by the Gods themselves, for longer than a season, and yet in his presence, she felt reduced to a mere child standing in a parent's hoofprints. How could she, dainty and petite, knowledgeable and kind, shy and withdrawn, possibly command the Dragon's Throat with the strength and pride of the steed that stood before her? And how could she expect him to accept her for what she had become, when all he knew her as was a shrieking mare, shrinking from responsibility and failing to provide for her family? Oh, how she longed for his approval, his acceptance, his welcome into the ranks of leadership.
She doubted she was going to receive it.
Astraeus had called to her through the bond, implanting the image of the snake in her mind. A rush of warmth, followed by a swell of dread, flowed through her veins, and she silently instructed him to inform Mara that she was on her way. It was odd, the agreement between the lightning-bird and the serpent, but one that she accepted as easily as her own bond with Gaucho. Strange, to say the least, but somehow they always managed to come together again, drawn as though by magnets. And so it was to be again.
He would choose this meeting place, the location of their first tryst. Had he done it on purpose? Did he even have those kind of romantic thoughts? They had never spoken of their relationship, of their status or their future or anything in between. It had always been physical between them, and she had warred with herself time and again over the morality of their circumstances. Was that why he called her there now? Did he intend to repeat their last meeting, now that he had his memories back and could fully enjoy it? Or had it been more pure then, when he could not remember to hold her weakness against her?
Would he understand that she had changed?
Would he still want her?
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she halted before him, reveling in the brief privacy that dusk had afforded them. She regarded him with a soft, hopeful gaze, shifting her weight back and forth as though unable to settle. "Gaucho," she tried to say, but it came out a hoarse whisper, earnest and unnerved all at once. The evening light, pink and orange and indigo, dappled her hide, shimmered in the rose she still wore draped around her neck, glinted in her eyes. She wanted to run, to hide, to scream, to cry.
She wanted to drown in his eyes.
"talk talk talk"
@[Gaucho]
Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight
Say, say, say
Ain't it been some kind of day
You and me been catchin' on
Like a wildfire
</style>
He was glad that she came; a feeling that rather took him by surprise.
At the sound of her approach, the softness of her hoof falls upon the sands, Gaucho turned. In the chaos of his initial return earlier that day, he hadn't the chance to properly stop and admire her, as he did now. The light from his wings accompanied the rays of the sun, cast a multitude of colours to play and dazzle against the blank canvas of her body. Her scent gently wafted towards him - both sweet and alluring at the same time - igniting flames (both internal and external) to grow in strength. As always in her presence, Gaucho's mind struggled to struggled to remain focused. Constantly his gaze wandered - dropping from her own, to admire and study the gentle and inviting curves of her neck and shoulders, to the point where feathers fused into hair, to the succulent curve of her flank...
With a quiet snort, the WildFire's gaze returned to her dual-colored eyes, momentarily marveling at the way the markings on his antlers danced and played in her eyes. He looked at her now, with a recognition that was not present the last time they met intimately. Would she want to talk? To know what happened? It hadn't been long since they were last together, although it felt like ages for Gaucho. His discussion with Ophelia and their subsequent journey to the veins...his meeting with the Sun God...Would she want to hear about it? Or would she have more...pressing questions? Mara had tried to explain the mind of a woman, of what Sohalia likely wanted to discuss when they had met in the caves; the kind of conversation they should have had long ago. Gaucho tried to listen and understand, but fell short at each attempt. The thought of Sohalia, with her complicated words and disappointed face, cross with him for not understanding, was quite possibly one of the only things in life he truly feared.
Would she have that face now?
"Soh-" He replied with a warm smile and then, stepping towards her, whispered: "kahleesi." The word meant more than simply queen, it meant partner, wife. But she would not be a true kahleesi, until he was khal - the king, once again. You see how subtle and intricate Gaucho can be, when speaking his own language? To hint at the state of their relationship and his plans for the future? All hidden in a word, but were words what she wanted?
Although his eyes once again slipped to the curve of her chest, his teeth ground together in an effort to refocus. He would speak, if that is what she wanted.
She knew that he didn't want to talk; knew that words did not come easily to him, that he would rather show her his feelings that tell her of them. And, somewhere deep down, she knew that his actions would always speak louder, that he displayed his affection in his treatment of her, as though she was a glass figurine, a princess, his queen. Yet she could not help but long to hear him say it, to tell her how he felt about her, that he cared, that he wanted her, that he wanted only her, that he was hers and she was his and that nothing, not time nor distance would tear them apart. She couldn't expect the words, but she hoped for them all the same.
She waits with bated breath as his eyes skimmed over her, tracing the intricate curvature of her body; and then joy filled her as he stepped forward, greeting her with obvious warmth and affection, and a broad grin broke over her features as she rushed forward to press herself against his chest. What did it all matter, anyway? Why did she have to care so much about words when she had this? "Khaleesi," he whispered, and she wondered what it meant - she marveled at the change, the knowledge that he had a language before Helovia, wondered if she would be able to communicate with him if she learned his language. Would she be able to claim him then, to impress upon him the importance of his faithfulness?
"You remember," she breathed, delight in her vocals as she took in his scent, his warmth spreading in waves through her body. A moment passed, blissfully silent, and then: "What does that mean? Khaleesi?" It was foreign on her tongue, but beautifully so; she imagined that the language was lovely, wherever it was from. "Where does it come from?"
"talk talk talk"
@[Gaucho]
Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight
Say, say, say
Ain't it been some kind of day
You and me been catchin' on
Like a wildfire
</style>
As her muzzle pressed against his chest, his flame-tipped wings encircled her much smaller form. She seemed to fit easily, as if her body had been made petite, simply so that it could be fully held by his much larger form. He sighed softly into her neck, enjoying not only the feeling of having her pressed against him, but also remembering all the times this had happened before.
As she spoke, he nodded distractedly. "Oh-feel-ya take Gaucho to Sun God. Sun God make Gaucho vineserat - remember." At her question, Gaucho pondered with a surprising thoughtfulness, as he draped his large neck over hers. Exhaling, he gently nuzzle her shoulder, deeply inhaling her scent before answering. "Where Gaucho come from... Never have Sultans or Sultanas like here. Never have ... not-mates." He concluded, after awkwardly pausing to try and figure out the phrase. "We believe having a soul-mate make you strong. Fight harder to protect and keep safe. But you not worry if they die, because both know how to die honorably. Both know to do what right for herd." The idea was rather lovely, in fact. A herd of warriors, each with love for the whole herd, as well as their own mate. In battle, they would not worry about their love or brothers on the field, for to die in battle was an honor. To be wounded doing what was right, was simply an expectation. They fought harder and were noble, for the love they shared was spread equally through the herd. Coming to Helovia, the idea of leaders, indifferent to each other, was more foreign than the language.
"Leader is called khal. His queen, is called kahleesi. Kahleesi must be soul-mate of khal. Khal and kahleesi, always together." He concluded finally, leaning against her frame gently, as if his lesson had been physically taxing.
It was so easy, the way he encircled her in his protection, in his embrace, as though they had done it hundreds of thousands of times before. She sighed softly, enjoying the gentle caress of his wingtips along her spine. The soft skin of her muzzle traced the hard lines of his shoulder, the flickering of his harmless fire reflecting in her eyes. She could not see him, but she didn't need to - the feel of his contentment mirrored her own.
He explained the circumstances of his restored memory, and she tucked the name into her mind. Oh-feel-ya; Ophelia? Well, whoever she was, the dove was in her debt. The thought startled her, for she was unsure when she had taken his debts upon her own shoulders, but it was as natural and right to do so as it was to stand wrapped up in him. "She has my thanks," she commented softly as he tucked his nape over her own, deepening the embrace. Her maw reached further, gently massaging his withers as he seemed to consider her question.
When he spoke, it was careful and descriptive, perhaps the most words she had ever heard him string together, and what he told her was beautiful. It was romantic, the whole idea, though her death, or his, terrified her. Still, what he said... if he were to be killed in battle, it would be honorable, and though she would grieve for him, she would know that it was his wish to die fighting. She would honor his memory by giving herself, by avenging him, or trying to. If she were to die in battle, would he feel the same for her? Warmth fluttered in her chest, her breath caught in her throat - for his language, his past, was so foreign and beautiful and idyllic that she could not help but want to know more. But that could wait; for he had just told her very much what she had wanted to hear for seasons. She couldn't believe it, didn't dare, terrified to have her hopes crushed by misunderstanding.
"I am your Khaleesi," she confirmed, emboldened - but it sounded like a question nonetheless. "You are my Khal." This was firmer, accompanied by a pressing closer, a gentle, yet firm, nip on the withers. She knew how she felt, and she would go no longer without making it clear to him.
"talk talk talk"
@[Gaucho]
Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight
Say, say, say
Ain't it been some kind of day
You and me been catchin' on
Like a wildfire
</style>
She has my thanks. "Gaucho fight her. After invasion. Almost kill her. She almost kill Mara." He shrugged, remembering the hatred still lingering in Tinek's eyes. He wasn't surprised with the behavior of the frost-snake, although Ophelia's willingness to help was perplexing. Had Gaucho's admonishment of what had happened come first, he might have understood her willingness. But...All things considered, were he to have been wrongfully attacked and nearly killed, only a rematch would have succeeded in winning his aid. Not a few words. Even so, having her bring him to the Sun God had been more of a blessing than he could have ever hoped for. Ophelia had his thanks as well.
A smile spread across his features as they continued to nibble and play with the bits of mane falling against her shoulder. "Gaucho not khal - khal is leader." Playfully, he nipped her neck ever so gently, before pulling back to look directly at her.
"Maybe that change." He whispered with a grin. He had only just come back ... Hector hadn't abandoned his post, so perhaps there was some hope that structure remained amongst the military ranks. But still... he had his doubts. Regardless of how odd the leadership of the Starry-Eyed and Transcended was, he would respect each of them. That is, until the day they were challenged.
But that would not be this day. And that was not why he called her here.
He remembered her voice the last time they were together, asking him not to stop... and how he had promised to return. "Gaucho always come back for Soh. Gaucho..." Had it really been this long? Had the words really never left his lips before? Did it really take an invasion, a foal, wraiths, and complete memory loss to prompt him to finally say it? It hadn't seemed important before. Like it didn't need to be said but...suddenly, it did. "love you." But the word wasn't right. In this language it sounded...hollow. Weak. Phony. He new a better word. "Gaucho athzhilar zheana kahleesi."
She could feel the smile in his voice as he corrected her, and she smiled in return, her lips pressed gleefully against his shoulder. "Khal is leader." Suddenly, words bubbled forth, unbidden: "You should be." Immediately, she regretted her words, for she did not mean to belittle Africa or her reign as Sultana. The one-winged mare was a dear friend, one that the dove admired greatly for her resilience and quiet leadership. She had not meant to imply that Gaucho would be any better than Africa, but she knew that she had done so, and guilt immediately surfaced. But beneath that, a selfish part of her coiled, satisfied, for it had been given a voice in a moment of relaxation to proclaim the desire to lead as a pair, as mates, as soul mates - as khal and khaleesi.
He pulled away to peer at her, and she smiled shyly at the playfulness in his gaze. It was a different side of him, a new insight into his nature, and she relished in it, savored it, delighted in it. Then, suddenly, a new seriousness overcame him. He spoke, told her that he would always come back for her (he remembered!), that he... loved her. Her breath caught in surprise, as she listened to the musical flow of his language. "Gaucho, I..." she voiced in a husky whisper, stepping closer. "I love... Khaleesi athzhilar... you." She imitated him, clumsy and careful and lost in translation, but striving for correct pronunciation, to do more than tell him, to show him that she cared, that she wanted to be everything for him.
She stepped closer, though he had pulled away, tracing along his neck, across his shoulder, under his wing and along his side, twining herself around him, pressing herself against him, anything, anything to be closer. I love you. Athzhilar zheana Khaleesi. She would have to ask him for a literal translation later, but the words rang in her mind nonetheless, contributing to her ecstasy, her joyful smile, her playful nips. Her breathing quickened, her pulse hammering in anticipation, for she knew what would come next, though it would be the first time she instigated it. She wondered if that would be significant, if he would notice the difference.
"talk talk talk"
@[Gaucho]
Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight
Say, say, say
Ain't it been some kind of day
You and me been catchin' on
Like a wildfire
</style>
He smiled as she fumbled with the words. Ever since he had been here, his pronunciation and speech had been constantly ridiculed - his intelligence called into question. It was, rather selfishly, pleasing to see such a well-spoken creature stumbling over words that came so naturally to him. He would teach her the words of his people, and in time he was sure that she would learn them. But for now, he enjoyed the awkwardness of her speech.
What would come next, in the days to pass, was completely distant from his already vacuous thoughts. What would happen with the leadership of the Throat, of African and Sohalia's reign, of where he might fit in once again...none of it mattered. For now, all that mattered, was her. She had come to him so naturally just a few days ago, even though when last they had seen each other - in the caves - had been terse and quickly broken apart. Had she forgotten? Or simply forgiven him?
Did it matter?
He remained still as she made his way around him - well, as still as he could bear. His flaming hooves shifted upon the sands, as he tried as best he could to remain in place. As she passed under his wing, he pulled it closer, hugging her curves against his own. He adored her size - how she could, with such feminine grace, slink about him so enticingly. His breathing came in small bursts, as if it was too much to focus on remaining still and letting her have her fun, as well as breathing.
He might not have had a chance to notice it before, but certainly he did now. Something in Sohalia had changed. There was no sign of the desperate mare, whose weakness was worn clear as day. Instead, the creature who had come to him, and lay with him even when he had lost his memories, and the one before him, were no longer that lost dove with a broken wing. Sohalia seemed...stronger, if only because she asked for what she wanted now, rather than expecting him to read her mind.
Wait. Scratch that. Now she was demanding it. And he would happily oblige.
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