"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.
That’s all Astrid had done since she had left the remnants of the army she once served proudly with. Running from the bloody war she had left behind. More than anything, she had been running from the heavy cloud of shame and guilt that had plagued her since she watched her mother finally succumb to death. She should have reacted sooner, fought harder; maybe then she could have saved her mother’s life and she’d be standing beside her today.
Stormy colored eyes gazed down upon the forest she had been calling a temporary home of sorts for the last few weeks. Astrid’s original plan was to rest and move on, but the longer she stayed, the more she grew to like the place. Something about it spoke to her and beckoned her to stay. So far she hadn’t yet stumbled upon any other equines. She counted her blessings to have the solitude to heal from the nightmare she had narrowly escaped, though she knew that eventually she would be found. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, or at least she told herself that. Maybe she could find something useful to do besides wallowing in self-pity and guilt.
With a dip of her bony, leathery webbed wings, the golden and black mare made a slow descent from the sky to the snowy ground underneath her. Landing gracefully in an opening in the trees, Astrid took a few strides before coming to a complete stop. The overly large, dragon-like wings rested on the snowy ground as if Astrid was unperturbed by the cold that permeated into the bony appendages. Blue-grey eyes closed as she basked in the silence, knowing that the quiet would not last long once she was found.
11-08-2014, 04:26 PM (This post was last modified: 11-08-2014, 05:18 PM by Fig.)
At a pace to rival the ravenous prowl of a slug, Fig found herself drawn from the safe borders of the World’s Edge once again. While she was still yet to find her beloved soul plant here, somewhere within this rolling, rainbow Helovian landscape, hers remained a restless heart. The voice of one Prim’sylvan elder, Oak, rang forever through her mind...
‘Seek your soul Fig, but never let another know its worth; never bring the cruel eyes of that race to fall upon it!’
... It was only one of the quests entrusted to her by the Animal God Corocottas and the Plant God Nepenthes, but it was easily the most important to her personally, and the one that pressed heavily against her mind. This vast world she had discovered however was a violent contrast to the quiet harmony she was well accustomed to and though she was yet to feel the wrath of shredding fear (an emotion relatively unknown in Prim’sylva), nervousness tickled constantly her thick, black furred hide.
As powdery grey remnants of the previous night’s blizzard began to melt from the sky at last, Fig emerged from the old coniferous forest that grew steady between the likes of the Threshold and her sanctuary, World’s Edge (or Edge of the World as she often confused it).Thick, fresh snow lay in thick drifts across the earth and as she stepped with baited breath into it, her heavy feathered hooves sank deeply. The young, spiritual creature could not tell whether grass or soil gathered beneath, and it pained her to think she might be in fact treading upon life – that which so crudely fed the populations of this land.
She prayed silently to Nepenthes, asking always for a safe path and his guiding touch, and faithfully she continued until at last the familiar bark of Threshold pines and snow-laden firs grew all around. The area had been one she had skimmed over recklessly before, and for some reason she had felt a stirring urge to return. Perhaps (although for now she was quite oblivious), it would in time become one of her most frequented locations for the sake of the herd she would grow to adore.
“I need water...” she though aloud suddenly, feeling the weight of fatigue descend without warning; although she had not fed from a stream for as long as she could remember, and that was probably why. Fig never grazed upon the living like the folk of Helovia, such behaviour was abhorred by the Lignea – to them it was cannibalism. Instead she drew energy from the lifeless water, and her lush canopy photosynthesised the glorious warm rays of the sun.
At once the large equine-like nostrils to the end of her face flared, inhaling deeply the burning cold air. There was no hint of flowing water to taste and she set off again slowly, ploughing through the snow, to search – but she did not find what she had expected to. Ahead, near the centre of a sunlit glade, stood the very unusual figure of a dragon-winged horse! “Oh my!” She exclaimed, surprised and rather in awe (because thus far she had only seen wings like that of the avian sort). Fig ambled forward and her branches shook as they pulled free from the canopy of the forest. “Hello there!” The young Lignea called out, noting quickly that the mare’s dark lashes were sealed tightly together.
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)
11-08-2014, 06:22 PM (This post was last modified: 11-08-2014, 06:25 PM by Bucephalus.)
Seriously. Why was he back again at the Threshold? Ears flicked back, and his gaze idly drifted down to the forest. Perhaps... he wanted to bring others to Throat out of genuine desire, rather than a sense of obligation. That idea puzzled the stallion, and a sudden gust of wind jarred him in his moment of distraction. With a laugh, he grinned at nothing. "Are you giving me a message?" He questioned, feeling the smooth flow of the air beneath his wings change slightly as he slid into a different wind, and adjusted for it. Ah, the glory of flight. He had so much control, yet so little, completely at the mercy of the air itself with naught but his own skill and wings to combat any disasters. Even leisure flight was dangerous, as his moment of distraction proved. One could never tell when the winds would change.
He returned his gaze to the ground, and nearly flew right past the two equines; and he had to take a second look to make sure he didn't imagine it. Yep. A pegasus and hornless unicorn. Though, he didn't know exactly what to call it. Horse was a term for pegasi, and now unicorns to him, not a species of it's own. Dipping one wing and fanning the other, the stallion twisted his body and turned, then tucked his wings and did a rather slow glide-dive down to the pair, landing in a faint flurry of snow.
"Apologies, but do either of you belong to a herd?" This felt awkward to the stallion, although he wouldn't let that show for matter of pride. His falcon-like wings settled on his back, and he studied the two mares curiously as he awaited an answer, although the cold biting at his coat was rather uncomfortable. Both mares caught his attention in different ways; one for her lack of horn or wing and the other for her rather unusual markings. Bucephalus had to keep his gaze moving from either mare; would not do for him to be caught staring. As tempting as it may be. Then, he caught sight of it. A tree... was growing from the hornless one's back. His jaw almost dropped, but he managed to stop it, although his eyes went wide slightly. Out of all the outlandish things he had been thrust into; this had to take the cake. He wasn't sure if the tree was growing on the mare, or if it was just...sitting there.
Bucephalus
Art done by me
Table by Tamme<3
Feel free to tag Buce in all posts; permission is given for force against him provided it doesn't kill or permanently maim him(ask about the latter)
Everyone in the Falls was preoccupied with the murder mystery in Helovia. Patrolling was lacking, recruiting was lacking, and everything that involved work was suffering because of that mystery murder. If one could even call it a mystery…I still hadn’t wrapped my mind around the idea that the gods or anyone would care that a fatality had occurred. Even if the death was unnatural. Hadn’t those whom been inflicted with sickness also died in an untimely, shortened manner? Where was their justice and jury? To bring darkness to heel – wasn’t that more than us fleshy creatures are capable of? More questions than answers. Thus the privilege of a thinking, always wondering mind.
There was a gathering up ahead, all individuals present were folks I’d never laid eyes on before. The bat winged one stood out in this pale landscape like a spot of blood splashed against the snow; her golden buttermilk pelt was flashy to say the least and hardly camouflaged. My gaze drew from her to the other female, who was just as curious to gaze upon. Though for different reasons. She was certainly less showy and as a result appeared earthier by appearance. What caught my attention first was how upon her spine was shadowed a tree. How or why it'd taken root was a curiousity worth finding out.
Lastly there was a male, I could taste the fragrance of Throat upon his skin. “Long days and pleasant nights to thee, might I join in on the conversation?” Stepping clear of the frost covered bramble, I stepped into the light and offered the trio a bright smile full of good intentions.
Unsurprisingly, Astrid didn’t have to wait long until scents invaded her senses. She had taken great lengths to stay hidden for so long. Standing out in the relative open like she was now was practically an invitation, though she didn’t mind it. If she was honest with herself, she was bored and lonely – she missed companionship and good company. However, she’d never admit that out loud. Stormy eyes blinked back open, adjusting to the stark whiteness of the snow before settling on the source of the sound - “Oh my!” - that had broke her reverie. It settled on the mare, unperturbed by her startled expression. If anything, once Astrid’s gaze settled on her, she was so curious about this other mare that she could have cared less about how the other mare saw her. The tree settled on the other mare’s spine intrigued her, but Astrid refrained from blurting out a question out of politeness. She had heard stories of horses born from trees and carrying a kind of tree upon their bodies in her homeland, but had never seen one in the flesh...Until today.
Drawing her wings up from the cold ground and tucking them into her sides, the gold and black mare offered the other a warm, crooked grin. Astrid had known no stranger in her old home, and had no intentions of changing that any time soon. “Hello!” she chirped, clearly quite pleased to not be alone any longer. However, before she could utter anything else, her gaze suddenly tore itself from her to another form approaching after landing in a flurry of snow. Astrid’s multicolored head tilt slightly, causing locks of her silvery colored forelock to drape haphazardly across her face. “Actually, I can’t say I am. I cannot speak for the lady, however,” she replied cautiously. Astrid regarded him carefully, though had not yet thrown up any walls. “I’m actually new around these parts. Well, sort of. Been here for a few weeks and the like,” she continued, though her stormy gaze had yet again wandered away from the stallion to yet another horse, another pegasus even, joining them. She offered the second stallion a friendly smile, bobbing her head slightly. “Of course! I don’t mind the slightest. The more the merrier, right?” It was a fair enough assessment, for Astrid at least. None of them had shown any signs that they were to be distrusted; all three seemed rather friendly and companionable, even. Besides, Astrid wasn’t about to look a gifted horse in the mouth and question why the universe seemed to have granted her some good luck out of the blue.
As a warm smile ignited the strikingly marked, bat-winged mare’s expression, Fig bumbled forward to meet her. She watched curiously with forward tipped ears as the strange, mammalian appendages lifted to fold against the lean gold barrel of their owner, and as they stilled in place, green eyes fell down the nearest foreleg. Wonderful scarlet ringlets climbed to the knee – markings that were unlike the dull fruit-shaped accent buried beneath the harsh black of her own hairy hide – and it seemed the other wore the same. She wondered interestedly if that were a brand of Helovia, a herd, or a family emblem. Certainly all of the Lignea were branded with such from the young saplings age, and though it was naturally overlooked by the more ostentatious, loud inhabitants of Helovia, the mark was as much a part of her as the timber stemming from her spine.
Right before she had arrived by the chimeric mare, another winged type had fallen upon the little, snowy glade and while she remained so distracted, Fig forgot entirely about the harrying bite of the relentless wind. The stallion was almost as fancy as the mare she had engaged originally. His body too seemed athletically built (quite the opposite to the cumbersome tree-girl, but apparently universal in these parts), and the gleam of his black coat was interrupted marvellously by sudden bright white – splitting his face, and driving down the lower half of one of his slender legs (and from each fetlock on the rest). The feathered wings which carried him from the skies were but a blur of colour, of motion, and he was already upon them and speaking before Fig had examined them adequately.
As the wings tipped with gold set against his back like a strange, stiffened blanket the other mare answered with care that she belonged nowhere. Fig waited a little (such was the nature of her unhurried lineage), before smiling credulously and telling the strangers, “For now I reside at the edge of the world.” She often fumbled as she spoke the name of her fond acquaintances’ home; it was confusing after all that it lay coincidentally above the lashing jaws of the ocean with no further land as far as her eye could see. From Fig's uneducated perspective, that was quite probably the end of the world in that direction....
The young Lignea was intrigued by the nature of the conversation, the lack of their need to know who each other were at all, and she was more than content to nestle back quietly and listen. They spoke quickly, confidently enough, and she was really no match with her much slower manner and the overly expressive nature of her language.
In no time at all another flighted horse had joined the gathering and Fig shifted awkwardly, noticing quickly how out of place she looked among them. The new stallion shared similar black, gold and white with the first, though the latter pooled more about his waist and wings. He strode from the tree line with a cool dignity that the tree-girl was drawn to - he seemed to be in no hurry which suited her well. He was well spoken and the words given were kind, Fig smiled thoughtfully towards him, and then offered the same to both the other man and the mare. She seemed content with the company she had attracted and it was enough to cast any reservations Fig held away.
@[Bucephalus]
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)
Bucephalus flicked his ears towards both mares. They were pleasant. Shame one of them was taken. But the arrival of another made the black turn his head, and his ears prick forward sharply. What was this? If the painted stallion had a dip in his nose, him and Bucephalus could almost pass as related. Almost. There were just too many differences in build. He dipped his head to the other stallion. "I do not mind." He hummed and turned his head to the bat-winged pegasus. "Well then, my name is Bucephalus, and allow me to be the first to welcome you to Helovia. I'm with a herd south of here, Dragon's Throat, and i came to offer you a place to stay, if you should wish." He said, shifting in place slightly, wings rustling.
"It is very warm, and in my biased opinion, a wonderful place. Admittedly i have not been to the other herds, however." He said, glancing at Fig and Midas curiously. The edge of the world? World's Edge? Was the painted stallion from the Edge as well? He really needed to do at least a fly-over of the other herds; although he intended to stay away from the Basin. He loved his wings, thank you. He was curious to see if these other two would try to sway the mare, although this seemed one of the most relaxed recruiting forays he'd been on, and he almost would enjoy staying and talking, and learning of the other herds. But he needed to return soon, there were things to be created.
Word Count:262 Tags:@[Midas] @[Fig] @[Astrid]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
They didn’t seem to mind my presence in the conversation, “Aye, merrier” I uttered softly to the golden colored female who’d been the first to welcome me into their mist. Yon larger lass was watching me and offering a kind smile to which I returned with gentle ease, “Well met,” I whispered to her while attempting to catch those gentle eyes. The dragon male regarded me politely with a nod, I turned to him and offered the same gesture with chin tucked to sharply press down into the gem below my breast.
With formalities finally drawing to a close we are treated to listen as yon dragon folk spoke up, giving a name that I didn’t recognize. Yar, I thought, another newblood in their ranks. How long before I no longer knew anyone from the desert of my birth. It was well known that the Throat often harbored wanderers who only stayed within that family for a season or two before their gypsy hearts demanded a change of location.
“Yar, he speaks true,” I nodded agreeably at the fellow and offered him another beam, “Dragon’s Throat has a favorable climate for those that despise the cold.” Glancing toward the homeless ones I add, “My name is Midas,” it wasn’t a mistake to leave out my title, nar, the name was hardly of use out in these wild lands, “of Hidden Falls.”
“A place that would surely welcome a visit should ye all ever desire such,” the offer was made toward all present.
In the back of her mind, Astrid mused about the interesting group the four of them must have made to any outsider who may stumble upon them. The two winged stallions were similar in colors, yet very different in their own rights – there was definitely no relation, Astrid was sure of it. The way they carried themselves was different, too; something about the shorter of the two stallions was distinctly different from the taller, but Astrid could not place it. Astrid knew that she herself stood out like a sore thumb, particularly against the stark blanket of white snow on the ground. She hadn’t been created with stealth in mind, but then again, neither had her mother. As birds of a feather, she and her late mother had certainly favored barreling into trouble and drawing attention rather than sneak about.
Astrid’s stormy gaze flickered to the other mare, flickering briefly to the tree upon her back out of curiosity as the mare answered the first stallion. A puzzled expression crossed Astrid’s war face features as she tried to imagine just what the “edge of the world” might be like, before dismissing it. Maybe they just hadn’t found the other side? Astrid’s oversized wings shifted so that the bony, knobby tops of her wings rest on the ground, allowing Astrid’s body weight to sag as she relaxed further. Astrid blinked, taken aback when she realized she hadn’t actually introduced herself until the taller of the two stallions gave his name. “Oh, right. I’m Astrid. It’s nice to meet you all,” she commented sheepishly, offering a one-sided shrug that jostled her as her weight shifted between her wings before settling again. Astrid’s head tilted slightly, trying to cast the stallion’s – or rather, Bucephalus’ – herd into her mind’s eye. Warmth sounded nice considering the biting wind, but she also had other things to consider.
Her stormy gaze flickered to the other stallion, Midas as he introduced himself. “To be fair, I’m not partial to one climate over another. I’m adaptable and I’ve been traveling for a long while. Anything will be a luxury compared to the bitter cold here,” Astrid said candidly. She was an honest soul, after all. “I was born in a mountainous land, but my military career took me everywhere; as long as my body and my skills can be put to good use, I’m sure I can make any place a home.” At this point, Astrid had drawn herself back up to her full height and had stretched some. With her dragon like wings once again tucked at her sides, she shifted so that her right shoulder, home to a multitude of thick, ropy scars from the battle that led her to Helovia, were displayed to the two stallions. “I’ve been relaxing for too long. If you can promise me a place to rest my head and that I’ll be put to good use, you’ve got my loyalty,” she continued, driving straight to the point. A new herd would be easy enough to deal with, but sitting idle was not something Astrid could ever do.
11-16-2014, 03:07 AM (This post was last modified: 11-16-2014, 03:08 AM by Fig.)
The casual banter that seemed to line the very beginnings of a conversation between the three winged Helovians and the curious tree-girl began to wane almost as quickly as it had begun. Thickly furred ears swivelled with interest as the more solidly black stallion gave up his name properly (at last), and so too the name of his herd which lay apparently to the south. Automatically Fig’s twitching lips turned in that direction as though the trees might part considerately and allow her clear view of... whatever a Dragon’s Throat may look like. They did no such thing however, and though bright green eyes traced only the lines of the old ragged bark trunks, quite a phenomenal visualization materialised through her mind.
She mused in silence while Bucephalus offered the other female a place to stay, playing with a farfetched idea that dragons still larger than the scarlet serpent who accompanied Resplendence (perhaps far grander as well), might guard the mouth of a den, a throat, something most terrifying and certainly not the place a Lignea would be naturally drawn to. She recalled the darkness her one-eared friend had described – the way it had forced the population beneath the earth – and Fig shivered uncomfortably. Before she knew it, the young creature’s soft, fluttering nostrils were nearing the speckling of gold on black to scent for mould or mildew – any trace of the cavernous, cold dwelling she had imagined.
She knew not how common that misconception really was!
Thoughtfully she sighed and the mental picture promptly disintegrated. Bucephalus described then a location that was everything but what she had perceived – warm and wonderful, he explained. Fig’s large eyes held him inquisitively, captivated, as Astrid introduced herself awkwardly, suddenly, and finally the silver-collared man spoke.
The stallion voiced his agreement as though Dragon’s Throat might be even a place he might have enjoyed; he introduced himself also as Midas, from another land called Hidden Falls. Fig’s overly concerned focus zoned in quickly as he spoke. It seemed to be an invitation to her also which was lovely and she might have asked at that point just how many homes were spread throughout Helovia – how many bodies occupied them – but the mare who seemed to be the central focus of Bucephalus (according to Fig), began to speak again instead.
A tranquil smile completed the patient expression which leaked though the Lignea’s expression and she watched on quietly, waiting and learning.
She glanced up momentarily as the cold wintry wind bothered her lavish, long and leafy canopy. The sheet of grey clouds had mostly dissolved from the sky, and a bright clear day seemed to smile down through the sparse forest awning upon her. Fig was still thirsty; the air she inhaled was dry, burning. She wondered vaguely whether Hidden Falls might be less distance to travel for a drink than the Edge – home seemed such a long way away, and though she preferred the company of the forest to any other in truth, their tangling arms would only be a hindrance this time.
“I am sure the herd (it still sounded so alien), where I live could use any help you are willing to give. I assure you Astrid, nights spent in the mists of our forest are beautiful, magical, and the days are alive with activity. My friends, I’m sure, would welcome you...” she went on to name a few with a broadening, fond smile, “Resplendence, Thor, Murdock, Kahlua...” and really, those were all that she knew. Fig shrugged her sloping, root encased shoulders lightly, revelling in the light mood of the group.
@[Bucephalus]
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)
The black remained quiet(but never still) as the bat-winged mare spoke. He noticed Fig's nose moved towards him, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face as he glanced at her before discreetly sniffing his shoulder. Did he smell strange? He didn't smell anything odd on his coat, and he lifted his head as the tree-mare began speaking. He waited for her to be done, amusement still on his features. Maybe the mare thought he smelled strange, good or bad. No matter.... or was it? He blinked when he realized once again it was his turn to speak, and he dipped his head to Astrid.
"The Throat welcomes all warriors, actually i am pretty sure our Sultan will be enthusiastic if you came to my herd. Everyone has a purpose best suited for their skillset or personal choice." He was warrior-raised, but crafting held a lure of peace to him, and he was thankful to be given the choice between duties, rather than being automatically thrown in with whomever Gaucho saw fit. "In fact i doubt you'll be idle for long in the Throat." He said with quite a bit of amusement. "I know i was not, and i joined barely a season past." Of course, he didn't say precisely how new he was to the Throat; it seemed a better option to be vague on that regard, rather than outright admit his own greenhorn status.
With that said, he dipped his head to Astrid. "But know that regardless of your choice, none shall hold it against you." He said, then turned and looked to Midas, signaling that it was the paint's turn to speak now. Buce was done, he planned to depart after Astrid spoke once again. The cold was sinking into his bones, and duties called at the Throat.
Word Count:302 Tags:@[Midas]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
Worlds edge, I recognized those names as if they were kin folk. Honeyed eyes turned their soft and friendly stare to the tree bearing lass, "Ah, I've been meaning to pay thee home a visit." Our last dual herd meeting had been fruitful enough, but there was little to no word on an alliance. Friends were something that I'd enjoy having around with so many darkening events floating by.
Bucephalus added to his cause and finished by glancing my way, seemingly on edge to wrap up the conversation. "Aye, ye will find there is plenty to do. No matter where ye rests thee head." My home could use good warriors, say true, but what truly mattered was that our golden company got settled somewhere away from these untamed lands.
"There are four herds residing in Helovia. Dragons Throat lies far south of here and brushes yon ocean. World's edge falls northwest from our current positon and Hidden falls is directly north of here. Travel further north and ye will eventually find the Basin."
I glanced beyond them, to the sky, "I'd be wary of crossing their borders without permission, Basin doesn't take kindly to those of any race besides their own." Earth forbid she enter their land blind by the ignorance of knowledge. Perhaps the northern unicorns would prove a different view one day. Endless pools returned to gaze between those present, "If ye has any questions feel free to ask. I'll answer best I can."
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