"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.
[ as all my "solo posts" tend to be, this is like a massive ramble. ]
We become frozen.
"We already are," a whispered breath into the frigid, shy dawn. "We froze over a long time ago." To save ourselves. Because when the fractured heart melts, the blood will leak out, and when your veins have dried up- what's left of you? What's left of your dreams, when everything runs between your fingers like the sand in an hourglass, slowly counting down the time to your demise and the death of the stars?
Because one by one they winked out, like your hopes, swallowed by the sun. For a moment the darkness strained against the sunrise, stretched itself thinner and thinner until it broke—just like he did, all those years ago.
But for him, the sun had simply sighed and rolled back beneath the horizon again.
Yet for the world it rose, winter's cold light chasing the steely night sky away with swathes of peach and pale yellow. For the whole damn world the sun rose, bright as can be, but no matter how hard he looked he could never find the stupid thing in his life. His breath smoked into the chilly air. How many years could you spend diagnosing a problem, and never finding any kind of cure? How many years could you keep on running in the same circles, without finding your way out?
How many years could you live a coward and never learn to grow a spine? How many years in a web of lies, until you learned truth?
You are harsh on yourself, the eldest owl said, her voice a cold brush upon his mind—each word thought-out and precise. Ever a perfectionist she always spoke slowly, and seldom bothered with words anyway.
"No," but why he used his physical voice he couldn't tell, "I am honest."
Silence. Silence as vast as the snowy world around him, the yellow heralding the sun growing brighter, lighter, and he shied away from it; shied away from fire and flame and pain, and the emptiness of his soul.
"Because I lost direction. I lost meaning. I am adrift," and stupid, "and.. I did not hold on to that which mattered the most." Ears angled back in regret, blue eyes filled up with it; Diego, not yet skilled with words, cried softly and fell from the sky to brush the tips of his wings along Mauja's neck. He shivered at the touch, glanced up. Higher, paler, almost invisible in the false-light, Irma remained distant and thoughtful. As cold as the glaciers themselves. "I tried to breathe life back into myself. I tried, and I failed, and in my quest for redemption I lost those who mattered the most to me."
He lowered his head again. Stared at the unbroken, perfect snow in front of his feet—saw the first ray of sunlight arc over the horizon, and strike a coldly glittering trail across the world.
"And then I was too much of a coward to find them again," he mouthed to the world. He didn't need to say it out loud. The owls would hear him anyway.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
In the deepest parts of the Steppe, there is places to hide and never come out to the outside again, and likely, no one cares enough for you to search you out if you've come into that far of a place. The snow and ice, distant mountains and snapping winds hold frozen hands with harsh, most likely depressed emotions all work to mold the north into purgatory.
Once truly in the North as she deemed it, passing the Arch, relief flooded in her the sensation of ease and freedom, the lack of prying eyes and hushed whispers that must go on between her herdmates over her lone horn. Kri had set that in stone the day Roy and her entered the borders and almost threw her back to the wolves.
There was something about the north that lured her in, guiding her with wispy, unseen, ghostly fingers and a soft voice that must of been someone whom she trusted as a child(presumably now dead like everyone else from that time), back to a memory that was fading through her short lifespan as of the breathing second.
Dawn dips the landscape in a dim, orange coating, blinding the filly momentarily whilst her eyes squint and adjust to meet the needs of daylight. Aurora Borelias must of danced atop the ceiling a few short and cold hours ago.
Light offers no change in the temperature, the champagne girl still trudging through knee deep snow and snorting occasionally at the duel ache in her bones and stomach. Ill effects of Frostfall left the outline of ribs skimming the surface. She eats and patiently waits for something that signals the arrival of Birdsong, as she'd done in the past with many others as they awaited a distant dawn, much unlike the one that warms her now.
There happens to be something, standing alone against the sunrise as if to be a statue abandoned. Instinct cries 'No, it's no worth it. Turning back is wise,' ringing like bells in the church tower in her skull while she thinks it's someone she knows. Shivers burst down her spinal column at a bird that ducks down from above, and what her instinct is speaking to her isn't so bad that now that she thinks on it.
Strangers can do a lot of harm, and like a wounded animal, she might as well turn back and flee.
She chooses to push on, hoping it's someone she's forgotten with her memories blurring since it is that far north that all that take up the vast emptiness are ones like herself. The pace keeps slow and her knees rise high, ears forward in an alert position in case the voice is actually one she knows.
As always, it's no one important. He seems crazy when he speaks, rambling on to nothing. Then again, there was the bird that fell from above to him, and that may be the other part of the conversation. The distance between the filly and the stallion, one who distantly reminds her of her mother in the black and white palette spread across his features instead of isolated, stays a few yards, enough that if either raises a vocal cord to each other it's enough that at least she could hear something. "Why are you out here so far?"
How ironic in how she is out 'here' with him, asking a question as of what brings him so far away from the rest when she herself is lacking answers as of her location.
Mauja. I tasted him in the air. He was near. I flew circles over the land. The bastard was here, finally here. What would I say and how would I approach? The little man-slut. I can't even think about it without laughing. The night one the beach, I had practically begged for his touch, for anything. Not even sex. I had just wanted someone to show me how real I really was. I needed for him to tell me I wasn't an dust particle-- that I wasn't easily blown away and forgotten. That never happened, not how I wanted it too. Since then, it's as if I've been fading. I had lost the Edge and my companion. My mind was a void that had been filled by Shilva, but the copperhead was dead now, and I've gone into a downwards spiral. I've been running from my own emotions. I've been running from everything. Being a prisoner of the Basin was actually like a vacation. I got the chance to think, to be away, to not conform to stupid rules. I was essentially free. But now? Trapped. My cage door is locked, and no matter how hard I try to free myself it is to no avail.
I tilt myself to the ground, easily gliding towards the pristine snow. I land smoothly, but collapse as soon as I'm sure I'm on the ground. I lay there motionless for the most part, yet far from dead or unconscious. His scent is strong now, but I do not feel like looking around, instead I turn onto my side and lay in the snow. No thoughts run through my brain. My eyes flutter a few times before shutting. I do not even know myself if I am sleeping or simply closing my eyes. Am I dead? No, I'm sure the world wouldn't be kind enough to do me the favor of death.
A more feminine scent filled my lungs, and if I had more will, I'd laugh. Knowing that Mauja fucks random strangers (shall we bring up Sialia? No, I think I'll spare myself that pain), I wouldn't be surprised if the girl would end up pregnant. Or maybe she's like me... in a category known as ''unfuckable''.
ooc: just to let you know, aurelia found out about mauja gettng sialia pregnant from sialia herself :D by the description she gave she just assumes it's mau but doesn't know for sure for sure. ALSO, feel free to let mau or sikeax see aurelia she just lying there, i'm assuming relatively close?
Success isn't the result of spontaneous combustion.
[ "The Unfuckables"- this needs to be a movie title. ]
Friend, foe—it's all the same to them. They've forgotten what it's like to know the difference. They've forgotten what it's like to trust, or maybe they never knew how to. The only thing they still know is that feeling of unease, of never being able to tell what's coming, of never knowing what'll be said. They can't even trust their enemies to remain enemies. Because.. because.. because...
They strain for a reason but come up empty-handed, fumbling and falling in the dark.
Another sigh rolled out of his nostrils, the white cloud glittering for a moment in the tentative sunlight before dissipating.
"Aye, the compass doesn't point North. But we're not trying to find North, are we?"
But he didn't even have a compass. Didn't even know what he was trying to find. Himself? The pieces of the heart he'd buried and left behind? Because all that remained in his chest was a shattered, fractured mess, bruised and cracked a few times too many—battered by time, more than specific actions. He didn't even know.. just, his spirit had winked out, but his body had refused to die.
"Why are you out here so far?"
One black-rimmed ear flicked back. Perhaps he'd known all along that she was there (and how could he not, with his owls surveying the land?) and that was why he didn't flinch. Or perhaps he'd just given up again, mired himself so deeply that he sort of wished a polar bear would burst out of the shadows and consume him. It would save the world a lot of trouble, and him some long years of contemplating the meaning of his desolate, fucked-up life.
"I'm looking for things I won't find here," he responded, voice calm and sort of bleak; it was a pessimistic enough truth, the sort of bitter insightfulness he wished he could shake off for something either truly mind-numbing or something proactive. Something that wasn't moping around for years on end in the same well-worn circles—because there he was, treading the mental pathways he knew too well. It wasn't even about losing the Edge anymore. It was about that rough, biting voice keeping up a running stream of sarcastic commentary about everything he did or thought, fighting and wrestling with himself when he slipped and fell. It was the voice of the world-wrecking darkness in that old dream with Ophelia. It was the voice of all those demons pressing in against his golden shield. It was, in many ways, the voice of all his frustrations and insecurities, and the voice of his tired mind. "Why are you out here?"
And his head turned, slow and regal, those bright blue eyes falling back into the shadow that made them seem darker, harder somehow—not as fragile as the glass soul they reflected.
He didn't know her, this unknown companion of his; young, definitely, refined in her own way. Pale champagne with a thin, straight horn with a glow to rival the blue of his own eyes—Mauja snorted quietly. Glow-face and Glow-horn, what a nice couple! They should go on adventures and do great deeds and—
He quelled the bitter, angry voice. He couldn't even—he couldn't even handle this, without the burning sting setting his eyes on fire. Blinking, he turned his head away again. All he'd wanted—what the hell had he even wanted—just to be able to be..? Appreciate the company of someone who didn't know the whole tangled, fucked-up mess that masqueraded as his mind? And he couldn't even have that—couldn't let himself have that. Had to somehow ruin it to himself.
If he'd had a rock nearby, he would've bashed his head against it, and hard. Just to shut it up. To make it all end.
But he just sighed. Screwed his eyes shut and kept them like that for a moment.
Aurelia has fallen.
A cold whisper, a phoenix whose fire had gone out and would not rekindle, a star falling from the skies—Irma swept in a quiet circle above the fallen mare, distant and frigid, uncaring.
Mauja's glistening eyes snapped to the young mare, then out to the horizon again. What was Aurelia, a fire-child, doing out here, in the cold north? What, more importantly, was she doing lying in the snow?
"There's someone we need to find," he curtly told his new-found, unknown companion, and set off through the snow, heading for the child who kept falling from the heavens—cast out like a fallen angel.
[ .. and of course I don't mind either of you, @[Sikeax] and @[Aurelia]! <3 Sorry I couldn't bring this closer to Aurelia's physical location, but it was already gigantic and I wanted to give Sikeax time to react/respond too :) ]
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
Silence makes her fidget, the time that inches, scrapes, drags a lifeless corpse across the wooden floor that makes her dread everything in meeting strangers strangles her. Yet with practice, she's learn to control the fidgetting enough that it is not obvious to the face of strangers, leave for the black angel above the Dragon's Throat. A chocolate shaded tail tosses and swats at the souls of frozen flies that died when the first snows came, nostrils widen with heavier breaths that raise the size of her chest. No advance has been given towards her, but she can't shake that feeling that comes with the unknown.
All she wants is to be brave again, but that's a fairy tale with this world.
Once open-mouthed to each side, swiveling to meet the sounds of whatever could be in the distance, what words that seap from his lips bring them forward. They burst like sparks in attentiveness, ever cautious.
Deep down, she makes a connection, seeing that she is out here, alone of all things(which was more of a beautiful diamond inside of an iron maiden jewelry box), looking for dead people of all things. The past was dead, but Sikeax was there with every passing day trying to perform CPR to bring it back. The question draws her from mental pain and the acceptance she's trying to form over a sudden realization. "I'm looking for dead people and dead things."
There wasn't much more to say while her gaze remained locked onto him, ears relaxing from their tense state to soothe some nerves. A pair of eyes and a face turns to see her, awakening the features of her facade and giving them up so that she doesn't seem as tired as she is. Pushing through the snow to come this far out has weared her down more than she had expected, but that nothing more than forgetting what a challenge it was to face the North. That filly had died and morphed in the present state. "I thought you were one of them, but there's strong differences between the two of you."
Whoever he happened to be, he wasn't who she had wanted. She wanted Adrixaura, and that wasn't anyone existing.
Dark blues generate something in her soul that doesn't have a name, something dark like the shades in the shadows of his face. Snorting, he deepens that feeling on his own.
While locked away, something moves him, jerking her head upwards and rolling whites forth. She'd been watching too closely as normal, too intent on assuring there wasn't a pair of snapping jaws going for the kill at the throat.
A second's turn makes her a pawn in searching out more strangers, probably as there is no name added to whom they're to seek.
Yet when he starts to move away, her legs lock into position and refuse to budge, pale, young eyes watching him leave in hope that this isn't what finally does the deed of dead.
Her knees do finally give way, unbuckling from her stance to tell her to go ahead and try to follow, instinct whispering enticements of how she can turn tail and bolt for the Arch(or the nearest cliff) to freedom. Slowly, she begins to trace his steps, pushing through the snow til breaks way to the path he has broken through.
OOC: Sounds like another name for a case of Chronic 35 year old virgin to me.
12-11-2014, 06:17 AM (This post was last modified: 01-07-2015, 04:58 PM by Mauja.)
i am the vanguard of your destruction
[ bay said to skip Aury this round, sorry for the wait, been ill ><; still am but not as cripplingly so xD ]
The snow doesn't bother him. Long, strong legs rose, knees pulled up high, and fell down through the snow again. The thoughtlessness of his movements made them seem almost elegant as he forged a snow-path towards some point on the map only his heart knew. Dead people and dead things. Maybe he would find her some of those, if they arrived too late, if the frozen North claimed the soul of his erratic, crippled fire-bird—his, yes, because in some dark, forgotten corner of his heart he cared, and wished only the best for her, happiness and joy and to smile without that self-deprecating edge.. for her to find someone who wasn't he, someone who could give in return all that she wanted, needed, and fly with her, not break her wings with what was simply the truth.
He cared, but he could never be who she wanted him to be. What she'd seen that day so long ago by the red pool—what was that? Had she seen him, or only a half-formed dream given tangible form? Did she know who he was, in the icy pits of his soul, or had she just made some kind of wild guess, fallen in love with her own idea of who this stoic, broken beast was?
"Dead things," he whispered to himself, the word punching a white cloud into the cold air, and he raised his head, turned it halfway back. The dead-hunter followed behind him, though why he couldn't tell (it didn't make much sense to follow strangers, least of all when they asked you to), but follow she did all the same. Perhaps she was lost and insecure—or a monster confident in her ability to slay even hardened, saddened creatures as he. One corner of his mouth flicked upward in a humorless smile as he turned to face the way he was going again. Not much farther, the coldest voice of his heart whispered, her white wings whispering in near-silence through the clear air.
I love you.
The confession slipped randomly out of the almost perfect fortress of his mind, found some crack, some arrow-slit, or just its own set of damn wings, and flew into the shared space between their souls. His eyes, still wet from his earlier frustration, nearly spilled over, and his heart contracted in his chest, nearly making him gasp. Because the truth of the emotion was overwhelming, mind-dumbing and mind-numbing, overshadowing everything else and devouring every thought until nothing remained but an aching fire throughout his body and a tidal wave hanging above him, threatening to crash down and obliterate his mind once and for all.
I fucking love you, Irma.
Amusement, perhaps, maybe embarrassment that he broke the unspoken rules of their cold, silent bond—he sensed echoes of emotions, but she said nothing, offered nothing in return. He had not expected anything else. Rather, it would've made him wonder if he knew her at all, if she'd suddenly turned into some kind of silly phoenix spouting her emotions off at anyone who happened to be nearby.
Still shattered from his epiphany, he almost stepped on Aurelia. His eyes had glazed over with tears, saline crystals frozen on his lashes and cheeks, and she was buried in the top layer of soft snow. Very abruptly he stopped, and peered down at her, still crying, trembling inside, something in his heart having rattled loose and he didn't even know what it had been, or how to find it, or how to fix it. He just felt raw and rugged and worn and on the edge of a hysterical breakdown.
"What the fuck are you doing in the snow," he asked, his voice jacked-up and teary; maybe he cursed, maybe he didn't, but he didn't sound angry, just like a man who hadn't slept in weeks and suddenly had been bashed on the head. On top of that, he'd begun to sob uncontrollably. Body as unsteady as his soul he simply collapsed beside her, fell over, neatly camouflaged in the snow. "You're n-not supposed to be here," he kept saying, rambling, mind unraveling further. "Y-you're a fu-fucking bird, Auuuu—" he drew the sound out, because her name wasn't Auphelia, what the hell was it, "—reeefuckit, you're supposed to fly! FLY!" And that was a roar, rolling out over the otherwise solemn Steppe.
[ .. no comments. xDDD @[Aurelia], @[Sikeax]
D: re-tag for bump? ]
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