"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.
She liked flying; now it was not just straining her muscles to keep her wings up, and not by her sides. Unlike before, she now could fly higher, through the air currents and back. Her wings strongly cutting through the air, thin but wonderful. She loved being young, she felt she would be young forever. And ever. The girl had been flying for a while, her legs getting tired of flailing through the air. The girl had tried pulling them up, but to no use. They where...asleep in a way. She didn't like the feeling they gave her. Deciding to land, she angled the plumage to the ground, in a tilting way that made her stomach yearn for something like adventure and daring tricks. She didn't really understand this urge, maybe it was that butterfly feeling her mom said she had whenever she flew. Spice wouldn't know. She couldn't understand feelings that other people felt inside themselves. She would probably never feel it exactly the same to what the other had felt. That was why she couldn't say "I understand" during a conversation, because frankly, she didn't. But that is not the point. The point, is that she could never really and truly know what the butterfly feeling was. Even if her mom, or anyone really explained it to her. She knew she would never know how it felt. There where so many ways. Maybe she could ask someone? Hm. Who knew, she would think that was a random question if someone had asked her. But she would answer it all the same. As she glided to the ground, she asked herself a few questions. Do you know where you are? Do you want to be here? She actually, in all honesty did want to be there. One hundred percent. But she did not know where she was. As she landed, she kind of stumbled, but she wouldn't know. Her feet where asleep, resulting in her hurting herself, as bad as she had when she escaped her prison. Bending her back hoof back as she landed, twisting and shuffling as she attempted a more graceful-type landing...and she failed. Stumbling and tucking her wings in at the last moment before rolling all over in somewhat spiky purple flowers. Pushing herself up, muscles tensing under dappled pelt, she finally felt the pain in her back ankle, it was an on and off kind of pulse of hurt. She did not like it. Holding it up above the ground, she attempted to look at it, twisting her crown around to see it's problem. Ugh. Bent and twisted, it seemed to hang from her leg, she had obviously hurt it badly. And in the obliviousness of it all, she was scared. She hadn't even noticed something like that!? It was scary to think she could avoid a pain like it. Although glad, feared she had some weird ability, she realized that she was covered in purple fluff. She felt weird and disoriented then, her mane blowing in a wind she did not see coming (Which she should have). It was what was all over the ground when she fell! The faintly prickly stuff...it was all over her! She looked in pure horror at the violet plant that hugged most of her body. Ugh. Well, this is just peachy. (As her mother would say). In a brake down, Spice huffed, her brow creasing as a faint pink rose to her still foal-like cheeks. She stood, one foot propped up a bit higher than the others, in fear she might hurt it even more if she let it down, covered in purple fluff...And a storm was coming on! Great. Juussstt...greeaatt..? A loud crackle was sent from the heavens. Heat Lightning. They had had it all the time back at her old home, her and her mother. She knew all too well about what this stuff was capable of. The girl, feeling terribly disoriented started to lower herself to the ground. In no regal gesture, she plopped down, a sickening pulse -no, jab- was sent through her body, starting from the new wound on her ankle. It pained her to be covered in purple fluffs, and in a whole lot of freaking pain...andalone in a storm.
She had never been alone in a storm before.
She suddenly felt ohsosmall.
Heading home from the keep of new souls, she paces gracefully through the meadow, trotting and racing beside her darkened light, rust tinted feathers whipping in the breeze as he flies through the air with wind slipping beneath his grasp. She jumps forward lightly, hooves landing softly from the air as her wispy crystalline tail flows within the wind as she changes pace to move quicker, watching as a earthly toned figure descends from handfuls of strides away, hitting the earth with a solid thump. Concern rolls over her features, fear swallowing her heart as she approaches in fear of being caught by a stallion and foal, side by side with their hooves and horns ready to shatter the body she treats carefully. Closing the distance between her and the small lump, watching as a winged childe rose from the prickled flowers, lavender flowers clinging desperately to her light brown bodice.
Reaching the child she takes notice of the raised hoof, ears falling back. Tempestas est super nos, her light calls, frantic as thunder rumbles and roars, threatening to send the world astray. Looking down at the babe's ankle, she looks up to frown towards the youth. "Does it pain you?" She asks, faint flashes of herbs and poultices being applied to swelling limbs causes her a shock, stumbling in an ungraceful manner as the filly falls to the ground with purpose in her actions. Lowering her head she smiles, neck hanging over the little one. "Fear not, I will aid you." Her voice is soft, soothing tones dancing over her unmoving lips, laying out over the childe. Her guide lands beside the babe, stepping curiously towards her with his eyes wide, although he had seen many a youth before, it was never that he got to see one so close.
"talk talk talk"
-- casually crashes thread --
well it's part of the process
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image| Original code by Tamme,
He'd lost her again—a delicate, fragile angel swept up and away by the clouds and starlight, spiraled away from him, and he, the beast, was left to linger in the realm of mortals. She was a porcelain queen, something of such ethereal beauty she could not be real, and surely, surely he was filthy and clumsy next to her.
It didn't matter that her blood—such red, red blood—had dried upon and since been washed away from his horn, that he had struck her flesh and she had been tangible.. no. If he asked his heart and its frenetic thundering, if he asked his soul and its shameful agony.. she was not real. She could not be real.
But she was. And he'd lost her again. She'd taken his blood and she'd run away with it, leaving him to limp haltingly across the barren face of the earth, slashes of red upon his left shoulder. It jarred his gait. It jarred his mind. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but it was a painful reminder of how close he had come to her.
She had said nothing. Not a word. He had only said her name to the wind, and asked her to dance.
Then, the world had ended in bloodshed. Red fractures. Shattered composures. It wasn't that he'd lost her again that hurt—he could live with that. He could find her again. It had taken him years but he could do it again. She had every right in the world to leave him behind in the dust. She had every right to not want to be around him.
It was the way she'd looked when she saw him again. It was the soulless gaze, the dulled curiosity. It was the way she'd charged, horn pointed at his chest. The way she'd finally staggered away from him. The icy, shocking blast of Tinek, the extension of her soul.
If that was what he brought with him.. did he want to find her again?
But if he didn't, how could it ever change?
Seeing her again had lain no ghosts to rest.
Thunder roared overhead, a distant echo of the frustrated beast stalking the ruined mess of its castle, his heart. His whiskers quivered. That meant rain, somewhere. It meant lightning. Odd, with such a storm so early in the spring, with the cold winds of winter barely forgotten. But it pulled him from his thoughts, dragged him out of its miserable obsessing, and he realized that the choked lighting reflected on one thing—a familiar, pure refraction of dull light, a beating heart suspended in a fragile chest of glass.
The nameless who had fallen beside him, when another storm had wrecked the world. The nameless whose body sung a tinkling song when the rain struck it. Slowly he drew nearer, the uneven hesitation of his stride courtesy of his injury; the dark edges tugged at their constricting crusts, a few tendrils of drying blood testament to it having broken at times.
Who are you? What are you doing? He wanted to ask, but he had no voice to speak with, because it had drowned in the storm of his emotions. So in silence the wounded beast padded closer, and closer, until he saw what held her attention as the first rains fell with such a harmless, soft touch a storm seemed almost impossible. A child lay by her feet, all wings and legs and early thistle fluff. It gave him pause. He stopped. He stared.
It made him want to walk away. He had ruined too many kids already. Surely he'd ruin this one, too.
But for some reason he was rooted at the spot, watching the odd pair with a look of thoughtful pity, exhaustion clinging to the corners of his body.
All around her, it is a blur of motion. A clear form, a bird.
She does not yet notice the spotted form in the background, the droplets had started to fall too soon. She didn't want this. A voice spoke, it was light and soothing and -kind and calm. It made the girl want to relax more...if this voice was going to help her, why not let it?
A hope sputtered in her chest like a flickering light. She did not yet let her eyes roll up into her head, for she needed to stay conscious. It was raining, and if the voice needed her assistance in moving to a better area, she wouldn't want to put a burden on it. Her eyes flare wide as she looks at the forms around her. Clear, a pulsing heart. Wow.
She'd never seen anything like this before. It's beautiful. And, its what the voice is coming from. A round-eyed beast stood before her as well, looking way larger than what it was by being at her level. It had a form of wonder in it's eyes and she couldn't help but put a smile on her struggling face.
Wind smacked the thistles around; don't underestimate a birdsong storm. Though, it was an odd storm. Coming upon them just to add a burden to them. It was not a happy though that the gods wanted them to feel this as something worse than what it already was. Taking a deep breath, the foal closes her eyes and tries to only feel the beat of the drops on the ground. On her laying body. Blood rushing in her ears, she stops.
A new ache settles in her stomach. Would she ever be able to move from this potion on the dull ground? A feeling of resentment covers her brain, wrapping it in a soft blanket of regret. Why did she try flying like that? What and idiot she was. Couldn't she see it was about to rain hell on the earth? Ugh, why today?
She steps forward, hooves lightly placed beside the child as body braces the winds and rains. It is odd that she even take so many steps closer to such a child, had the babe no been hurt she may have walked away with worry consuming her soul that the child will follow her home. She looked down, face blank as she tried to prevent the rain from hitting the chestnut child. Her head sinks low, crown no longer pointing to the thundering clouds but the graying horizon, the entirety of her body numb as it always is, with the ringing of rain pounding against it drowning out all other sounds.
What she does not expect to hear is the voice within, her light whispering to her a name mispronounced coming from his beak, a name that made her stomach churn and heart tie itself up. The name made her cringe, body rippling as she turns her head to peer at the white muddled stallion who drifted ever so close, yet had anchored himself farther than she would have liked. A frown flowers upon her lips, her face scrunching as she feels something within her click, cogs turning and gears grinding, it took her several heart beats to find just what it was. A name, the name she had heard spoken from the lips of Ophelia, Mauja. She felt negatively towards his name, finding that no matter how often she tried to put it to his face, it never quite belonged. Mauja did not sound like a name that could fit to such a sad face, to such a broken soul. His name is hollow, and it did nothing to fill his hollowed being. It was not a name a valiant king would wear, nor a knight who in his spare time aided damsels in distress. It was neither for a broken king or a king of success, and it certainly wasn't for him, because he was a certain kind of broken, he was not fractured nor merely bruised, but shattered. It was a way she had dreamed of being, to be fragmented upon the earth with the last memory of her being of her delicate smile as she collided with the ground and was left in shards.
Her gaze remains on his body for a while, just watching him once again stand beneath the raging winds the Gods had summoned, their bellowing anger apparent in the way the early spring rain pooled at her hooves, the way it struck her body with such force. With her ears swiveling forward, she gives a soft murmur towards the fallen man, wishing for him to move closer so that she could properly introduce herself to him and ask if he had ever found his Ophelia. "Mauja," the name slips gruffly from her frame, wondering if he had heard her or if the wind had eagerly stolen the name from her and left her grasping at nothing but a blank space before her. She remembered the child who was lain upon the ground, eyes traveling down to her. The babe had shut her eyes, the emerald pools now hid behind their chestnut drapes, leaving her to simply stand over her like a fragile angel, guarding the child that lay beneath her."talk talk talk"
well it's part of the process
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image| Original code by Tamme,
What were the Gods hiding? What did they try to purge, and wash away, with this rain? It sluiced down from the heavens, pecked at dried blood with insistent claws until it gave way, and his shoulder became draped in rivulets of foul red. Were they trying to wash away the evidence of this mutual pain? Did the same rains fall on Ophelia, somewhere else in Helovia, washing her stains clean too?
Were the Gods saying, forget about it? Did they try to scrub the memories from his mind, to convince him she was nothing but a dream, something beautiful and distant—and, ultimately, not for him?
That his awkward, clumsy hands would only harm her if he caught her, a butterfly trapped between rough palms?
He didn't think he was the kind to chain someone else. He wanted someone to soar with, someone who ran in the same direction, someone who was strong both with and without him.
Those thoughts were dangerous. He hated them. Crushed them mercilessly underneath one, frosted hoof, and ground it into the earth. Left it there to rot. Those thoughts, they hurt, an intimate ache in his fractured heart. He didn't want them. Not here, not now, not ever, and the rains kept falling, singing a soft song against the glass mare's transparent skin.
The snowbeast drew nearer and nearer, blue eyes glistening with rain and tears, until he finally loomed over them both. The child had disappeared into her own mind, into dreams or pain? He knew not which, and found that he didn't particularly care either. He couldn't grieve for the entire world. He.. there was not a lot that he could do.
"Mauja," the glass angel was saying, or was it just the wind whispering his name? A sigh from the earth and heaven, a whisper in the rain, a name known but not given. They had not spoken at all that night, pushed down by storm winds and trapped by the threat of the sea. He remembered it like one remembers dreams; distant, with an edge of pain and longing, like something glorious that was unreachable, and half-forgotten. The waves had threatened to drag him out, and under, and maybe, with all that he knew now, it would've been better.
Maybe, with all that was to come, it would've been a mercy.
Their bodies blocked much of the rain, his back darkening as the water slowly saturated his white coat. It always felt unfair when they knew his name and he did not know theirs; when they knew it though he had never spoken it to them. Had she heard some lingering rumor of him? But those days were long past—Mauja the Ice King was a forgotten mystery, something that belonged in a darker past. So how, then, did she know?
Did it matter? He was walking in a dream, feet and legs and heart restless, urging him away, to keep chasing that white walker, the princess who was both warrior and queen and, at the same time, a child. The confusion kept him grounded, the pain kept him conscious, and he remained standing where he was, ever so silent as he peered down on the laying child.
03-15-2015, 07:38 PM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2015, 07:35 PM by Spice.)
There is a man in the rain that she doesn't dare look to. Green eyes were bubbled over with salty tears, why did she have to be trapped here in the rain, hurt, and fragile? Why did it have to be her?
She could honestly hare less about the ache in her hoof right now. She just hated the state she was in. Hated the way she was so weak and vulnerable, and they could all see. They could all see. It truly was not something she appreciated. Stares from others she does not pay mind to, stares from others who she does not know.
"Ma'am?" She utters over the thunder of the rain. She wants someone to hear her, even if that someone is very very see through. "Will you help me wish for the sun?" she finds the words slipping from her lips too quickly, before she can stop them, they are out. And she closes her eyes. "My mother used to" she says, now she couldn't feel the tears streaming down her cheeks. Now she could only feel the patter of the rain. "I am going to be okay, angel" she says, because she has come to save her in a time of her need.
My mother told me angles do that kind of thing.
Her mother feels too present in her mind. She doesn't want to think of that beast that kept her trapped away from the world. This wonderful world that Spice could have seen sooner, she could have flown, and had no problem at all.
But of course, that wasn't the case, she she was left here with a brooding man and a guardian angel.
"Talk talk talk."
OOC;; really, really sorry for the wait! Fished it out of the Archives as well! TAG;; @[Ayelet], @[Mauja]
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