"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.
The sun rises with open arms. Warmth. The glow brushes my face so yellow light reveals the charred powder of fatigue, the deep dried blood of my irises. I blink, eyelids slide over eyes and sting like gravel. I feel the warmth of Essetia beside me, filling this hollow soul. No body has seen abuse like mine, the weary legs have already disowned me, hooves losing their grip on the narrow path as it ascends. We're climbing a mountain. I roll my crusted gaze over to her white eyes with doubt rumbling loud in my gut. I don't even have the energy to sigh, to grunt at every screaming strain of muscle, at every wince of heartbeat. I drown in the rapid breath, the slow of pace. We're almost there, I hope, continuing to blink away the spots of faint. I feel sleep grappling my breath, slowing the rhythm of legs against air, against earth. The breath stings like the wind against my eyes.
I halt. I regret it. My head hangs to the ground, my body almost crumbles to the broken path, consumed in dust. "Essetia," I cough from parched lips, eyes narrowing on the upward climb, fear plastered pale on my face. "How much farther?"
The sun's arms cast a deep shadow behind me. The promise of the moon. I wish I could smile. I wish I could bring the light of the sun to my face, to my heart. But it is too soon for the warmth to grow on me like hope does, or redemption. There is too much climbing overhead to be safe yet. I have to keep moving. I command my legs just one more step. And then another. And another. The blood unwillingly pulses, pushes me along just a little bit more. A ragged wheeze shakes from my chest, blood tastes metallic in my mouth. I am almost home.
12-22-2014, 10:30 PM (This post was last modified: 12-26-2014, 07:40 PM by Essetia.)
Essetia
I love him from the skin to my bones
The coming of day was unexpected because the time she had spent with Malachi felt more like a few, albeit long, minutes. Tension had made a home of her body and since moving in, it had remained. Each step was painful for her with so much riding on the time it took to get the big draft to the Falls, to a healer at that. Should she call for Midas? Ghost? She‘d yet to meet a native healer and that made her thoughts race double-time. Surely once they arrived she would be able to notify someone of their sensitive circumstances. Essetia had never seen a creature the size of Malachi so underweight and fatigued. In her mind, she knew it pained him terribly to make the journey to their home, but she had been greedy and selfish; she had ignored his qualms and instead attempted to push him and make him yield to her own childish desires. For that, she would pay dearly… crimes against humility were unforgivable.
She is distracted by her own follies when the draft pauses, breath quivering and weak within his chest. He utters her name and she turns quickly on her heel to face him with wide, worried eyes. In an instant she is flustered no more and the mare relents before coming to stand alongside the male, her shoulder pressed to his in order to keep him adrift. “Not much longer, I promise. Let me help you,” she murmurs quietly. Though Malachi is heavier in build Essetia, like her father, is tall and reaches above him in stature. She urges him once more to lean into her, to surrender and allow her his burden… Though she has grown distant from her treasonous father, she has clearly inherited his nature to help others… his gentle heart.
Ahead, the borders of the Falls paint themselves into the horizon. Essetia is relieved to know that they are close enough to taste the fresh scent of her exotic home and she gestures for Romul’s aid in calling attention to their arrival. Devout as he is, the wolf darts ahead before releasing a long, mournful song. It echoes into the Falls like a beacon of light, of hope, for Malachi’s approach. Essetia wants an arsenal of horses, or healers, of anyone who can help and so she too lifts a burning cry to the curious atmosphere. They were home… but they weren’t out of the woods just yet.
With every slip of breath comes strain of limp muscle and the sweat. Dawn works cloudy froth under my mane, between my legs, leeching the moisture from my mouth, my eyes with intangible suction. I plea, rolling my gaze to the rusted sky wishing there was water and soft grass to casket this body. A piece of me is lost in every stride, my conscious drifting, my vision succumbing to black holes and milky film. Grit grinds against my hooves, dust swirling through my throat to my lungs. Limply I stagger, nearly meeting the fate of broken stone until the slender shoulder catches mine, firmly stabilizing the possible fall. We pause and her voice fills my ears with the best sound: not much longer.
"Thank you," drips from the dust-caked mouth, croaking itself to life. I can't look at her because I pity her. What am I to bring home to a needy herd suffering from its own ills? I am the illness. I am the tamed creature capable of nothing but the weight of a rider, the beckon of stirrups against sensitive sides, the warm touch of something most have never witnessed. What am I to this mountain but a valley of bones? She shouldn't have to carry the burden of me upon her shoulder like this when I can't carry myself.
My thoughts consume me like the air burning ragged in my lungs. The guilt plagues blacker than my weak vision, swirling around like embarrassment in my hollow gut. If only it really was only a little longer. If only I could believe her selfless voice and the false promise it concealed. This would not be a little longer. I would attach to the herd's priority like a foal to a teat, drain their defense and their time, when the feathers of the moon could have collected this useless, cowardly body without the energy it takes to think sorrow. But somehow this carrying shoulder cares enough to bear the weight of a starving heart like mine. Thank you is not enough, I realize. But after a year of travel I am too expired to do anything else.
Like a sentinel poised atop his tower, Silas roosted in the pinnacle of a favourite pine, watching with sharp night vision the winding, rubble trail that offered the flightless access into to Hidden Falls. Most nights now, while his beloved slept soundly bedded down in the prison cells to the east, the nocturnal avian found his post there; new responsibility to replace the desert patrols he had enjoyed so thoroughly. Sharp, lilac gaze swept again along the path below but only the scurrying action of a rodent pulled his attention. He was no predator, had not an appetite for blood, and glanced instead to the lightening horizon – dawn was close. Cold, hooked beak opened through a great yawn and star-speckled plumage puffed, flashed, as the cool night wind hastened by.
The murmur of voices below roused him suddenly from sleep.
The sun had risen, cloaking the bold hue of his of night murk feathers in smothering golden warmth and his skin prickled at its touch. Silas shook his small skull, and stretched the stiffness from each wing, both legs, keen eye turned at the same time towards two horses passing beneath – and a wolf, dancing off through the morning amid a cry so chilling he shivered. He and Africa had seen one group meeting already, and the mare who sang out as the song of the hunter waned was a familiar one, marked exquisitely and easy to remember. Against her wingless side was a stranger, leaning awkwardly, like a soldier maimed by war. The zephyrs focus narrowed and the ornate crest of wavering quills and eyes lifted as his interest grew.
They were dithering, hardly making progress at all, and it concerned him. A sharp cry pierced the atmosphere, wings spread and his glossy body sank to a lower branch. Injured, he called to his beloved, by the border.
Her stride clattered against stone as Africa hastened towards the secret pool – the entrance beyond. Flames whirled along her lunging crest, thrilled by wind as she galloped, excited as though by the surging adrenaline through her heaving core. The mare wasted no time answering her bonded’s plea, it seemed many (like her), came to the realm of the Gallant and the Cadaverous for similar healing – the Earth had touched two already in as many weeks! Nevertheless, she grew not tired of her duty and rose to the call with budding concern. The one-winged scrambled along the cliff-face path that she had only before conquered once – confidence spewed through tingling veins and she reached the opposite side, through plunging water and jagged rock without error.
With mist beading across her sombre dappled pelt, Africa paused and cast her eyes through the tangled wilderness beyond. She caught sight of Silas in the pine he often perched at the peak of and gaze descended towards the silhouette of bodies ambling by the sunlit foot of the hill. Like Silas, she recognized the Sleuth, but the ghost propped against her was unfamiliar. Without second thought she was plunging towards them, stone scattering in her wake. Even before she had arrived, the warmth of her humble voice was rambling ahead to meet them, "take rest, you needn’t strain any further." She could not immediately see what exactly it was that ailed him, there seemed not to be slashed skin, and where she might have expected to find blood stained, thick mud crusted and flaked instead.
Essetia had seen the one-winged healer at the herd meeting but had yet to share word with her. However, now was no time to consider such proprieties. She had other larger, more pressing matters of concern to deal with. With her shoulder still pressed into that of the big, grey draft, Essetia pushed onward toward the Falls and impending answers, desired relief. Malachi uttered his appreciation but his light seemed to be fading more and more with each step, every dip and swell under foot sapping at what remained of him. A tense fear gripped the big mare and with Africa in sight, she couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief, a momentary reprieve. There was gleam in her eyes that asked for understanding or perhaps knowing assurance and the healer appeared to offer both simultaneously, at least outwardly.
Flames licked rock and soil in the medic’s wake and she appeared a most awesome force of nature surging toward Essetia and Malachi, but Romul held other opinions of the mare. His wide, golden eyes couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of flesh and flame intermingling and shied from the approaching healer with a high-pitched yelp. Essetia turned to rumble at the wolf but he refused to respond and instead perched some feet away, watchful and tense.
When Africa had at least joined them, Essetia nodded weakly to the healer. She was not fatigued physically but worry and panic had made her mind hazy and tired. “We are home Malachi. You are safe now,” she soothed quietly at the draft’s side. Her pale, glassy eyes found Africa with something akin to wonderment roiling within their depths. Essetia wanted to know this medic, wanted to thank her for her aid in comforting Malachi. Thank you, friend.
Were those words ever as meaningful as they were intended? Essetia liked to think so…
I know the detriment of falling. The feet, the small bone-woven toe is the foundation of what makes this body live. I feel the gravel rolling beneath me, my hollow body pressing deeper into Essetia's shoulder. I find my thoughts traveling again. But not ahead or behind. They go to the sky, right above my head, my gaze. My thoughts pray for the first time. They see the whiteness of a question and the blackness of a wish, and the words tumble out of my gray lips, feeling frozen as the gray tone that climbs over the lump in my throat. "Oh God," I start and my eyes catch the sun glint against the sneer of jagged rock, bruising pupil. But I hang on, feeling the gravel catch as the weight of one hoof quells movement beneath. My heart falls like my body would, slipped on the last surge of tingling fear. It washes over like sweat, rushes like the feeling of blindness. Oh God.
But my ears numbly tick the hoofbeats of another, my eyes lifting, though still bruised by the sun's lashing rays. I can't make out her silhouette against morning but I feel Essetia lift her head beside me to acknowledge the soul. I hear the voice: "take rest," but can't believe what I hear. Eyes still fumble to focus on this strange command. My legs obey and sway with the suddenness of obligation. I can't believe that we've arrived with three more miniscule shifts of position. But I close my eyes, watching the spots swirl behind red eyelids. I listen to them, the sounds of able bodies and arriving.
I fade.
@[Essetia] and @[Africa] sorry for the wait, just pushed out a few final projects!
We can end here if you don't want to post once more. I'm just having him rest before I start a thread recounting the next day.
01-08-2015, 09:49 PM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2015, 09:50 PM by Africa.)
There seemed to be little room for vain ponderings, and certainly not the time to voice the myriad questions spinning wildly beneath the throbbing pulse in her ears. The flecked-white stallion’s affliction was frighteningly obvious, and though something, gratitude perhaps, seemed to ignite in Essetia’s cool, pale gaze, the weariness in her posture stole the dappled medic’s attention. Fond heart lurched as the fading stranger seemed to sway visibly in the small stream of wing, and lightly whiskered lips very nearly reached as though to brace his other side. Instead though, she centred her balance, tethered her focus and closed light-golden eyes before them.
Earth, her mind whispered almost desperately, humming softly the tune that had raised them before... There is need for your touch, for the vines you have honoured me with, and as she shivered beneath the warm, warning caress of sunlight, small sprouts began to evolve from the littered soil by their hooves. Come, she beckoned delicately, Come... and though she could see naught but dancing lights through her darkness, Africa could feel the energy of the stirring vines as they coiled ever upwards in search of the ill. As green as budding spring, but splashed in the rich, cleansing dirt of their Father, the plants went to work covering the stallion; cloaking him securely in a warm, restorative mesh whether he stood still in place, or staggered weakly to the earth – they would aide him nevertheless, catching him and protect him.
The vines began to recede once all trace of injury, of infection and infirmity had diminished; not a moment sooner. The Starry-Eyed listened intently to their song, the harmony of the trees caressed by the breeze and the roaring falls just nearby, and something alike to ecstasy peaked, surging suddenly through her trembling core. The vines vanished back into their glorious bed, and thick lashes fluttered finally apart. An overwhelming tiredness swamped her – the art of healing was still knew to her, awesome and exhausting, but even though she swayed beneath the fog of euphoric fatigue, a bright smile spread through her expression.
“I’m Africa, Earth Medic of the Falls...” she breathed breathlessly towards the pale stranger, whether or not he had recovered enough to notice – barely able to fight the relentless tug of gravity now herself. She mentioned vaguely afterward as her thoughts began to spin wildly behind a sudden closed-clench of her eyes, “Essetia, I will catch up.” She teetered down the trail along which the couple had struggled, before sinking headlong into the grass, into a torturous writhing world - she was coming down. Silas watched from above, familiar by now with the effect the Earth’s magic had, but not so witlessly affected as his beloved.