"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.
11-06-2014, 03:30 PM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2014, 03:34 PM by Midas.)
Midas
The cold is dark or was the dark cold? I breathe out – a raspy mist that curls toward heaven. Gaze travels up to a silent sky filled with glittering stars that stare down in the most uncaring way possible. “Ye see don’t ye?” A question meant for only one set of ears. Silence. I can hear my own heart beating a steady tempo. The pulsing vessel throbs within my chest and aches for…something…that is out of reach.
A lonely cry swells from my throat, the scream slips before I can stop it. A wounded battle cry. That mournful bellow pleads for distraction from myself. Shoulder muscles grow taunt when my right forehoof rises to strike the frozen, hard packed ground beneath me. Gold slithers, the imprint of my step remains for a mere second before fading away.
Fall warriors needed training and I desired to think about something other than the strange events that are happening in this world.
Distraction from my own lonely heart that mourns for Seele, Africa and dozens of others that’d disappeared in recent months. Fina stirred, her talons are lashed across a branch on yon old oak tree that was weighted by a fresh layer of snow. She chirps and glances hotly toward a lower branch where Neve, a shimmering silvery colored avian sat looking pretty. They both turn to me, worried. “Come on,” I breathe out, looking toward the bare timber. Perhaps earth himself would rise from the snow to test me on this clear night.
OCC: Clear night. Fighting on hard packed ground in a clearing.
Attack: (0/3)
@[Dröm]
Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer
She heard the cry and came quickly. She was not worried, in fact she came prancing, snow flying everywhere behind her. Her thin necked arched, chin touching chest. Her flaxen tail danced behind her. Chocolate eyes scanned ahead, searching for whoever uttered the cry of battle. She wailed into the air. He rich voice quickly filling the silent air. It was her voice, only hers. Velvet chords were thrown into the air. Her own cry became a sort of tune, almost a song, but not quiet. Her nostrils flared whenever she exhaled, small clouds forming by her nose for a moment before disappearing. As everything fell silent once again, save for the crunching sound of hooves on snow.
It was dark out, the normal blue hidden behind the cloak of night. The only light was the moon's. It didn't matter the time, for she had found her opponent. Her eyes locked on his body. She slowed to a walk, the ground much firmer now. The Czar had sent out the battle cry. She looked at him, her mouth set in a hard line. It was Midas. She was dainty, he probably had a millennium of experience on his side. She was a princess, he is a King. Her chances? Slim.
"Midas," She began to say, but paused for a moment. Her gaze lingered on the ground for just a moment before they returned to his face with a new vigor. "I am no warrior," Clearly, "However, I wish to learn." She stated calmly, backing up a few steps, giving him the first attack. The girl had learnt from her rather short spar with the grey stallion that attacks had to be sneaky, quick. For now, she stood, waiting, watching, observing.
Of all people why her? A sweet, fragrant musk is on the wind; it prances daintily across my nostrils and is the only warning I’d receive as to whom was answering the call of a warrior. Why was Drom responding to my battle cry? The dark expression of forlorn and quiet desperation doesn’t change when she emerges from the timberline with eyes bright and mouth set toward the purpose of accepting this challenge. My name drifts to the air and every muscle on my body tightens in response. Honeyed gaze drops when she lowers her eyes. I was praying, hoping that this little storyteller would report something favorable, or simply wish me well and travel on. Nar. She did neither and made a clear impression that her purpose tonight was this dance. A dance with her king and overseer.
I looked up, attempting to find her gaze. “Back down,” I thought, “because I will fight ye, say true; but I don’t know if I can hold back.” Of course she couldn’t hear this, nor could the sandy colored woman understand what was racing in my mind. Or how close the fragile fragments are to snapping clean in half, if some steam wasn’t blown off. Tonight I’d wanted a seasoned warrior who could take my blows and not bleed or bleat in agony. To unleash the full measure of wrath.
If I waltzed with Drom this eve, would my loose leash of control snap during the fray? Could I control the painful jabs of lonely pent up energy that was trapped within my heart? Steadily she waited for me to make a move.
Gaze hardened when the girl didn’t step away, “Drom…” I whispered, “Ye doesn’t realize what thee asks from me tonight.” Forelimbs stretch, stepping toward her with quiet little taps against the frozen earth. Each strike leaves a trail of golden prints in my wake. “I don’t want to hurt ye,” would my husky tone frighten her away? I so dearly hoped it would, better to apologize for tone than for broken bones and a scars.
OCC: Sorry ^^; Midas is being….meh…
Attack: (0/3)
@[Dröm]
Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer
He is quick to do nothing. Stillness plagued his body, which caused the Storyteller to cock her head to the side. She was dazzling, with a childlike naivety. Though his heart may have been in a good place, Dröm could not bring herself to understand why he didn't attack. What was the hesitation? The rabbit came to the conclusion that she was somehow not worthy enough to tango with the King. As silence had begun to fall on them, the flaxen girl just thought. She wasn't too deep in thought when she figured out what she would do.
He began speaking as he stepped towards her. Gold had formed where he previously stood, and it glinted under the pale moonlight. Midas touch, they called it, but the gold boy would no further distract the Arab, for she was determined. She stepped forward, attempting to close the space between them further. She wanted to get close enough to feel the heat of his breath-- to see the whiskers on his muzzle. She knew very well that they were both approximately the same height. His words were considered carefully by the rabbit, yet she wasn't convinced. "Du är ett bandage, inte en kniv," she responded, her voice a whisper. The femme knew well that her language was uncommon, and she figured he wouldn't understand, but her words were compassionate and she hoped he wouldn't think she had been attempting to offend him.
Her gaze fell on his neck, then traveled to his collar. She had never really given much thought to the collar, yet now the collar interupted her thoughts. Would it cause a problem during the fight? Would the metal scratch her delicate hide? She had no idea, yet she wanted to continue. "Surely you aren't going to make me go first, Midas." Once again, she stepped back, ensuring herself some distance away from him. Her voice was no longer a whisper, nor a loud yell. She was calm and spoke with ease, but she boiled with anticipation. Was this all truly because he didn't want to hurt her? Eventually there would be a war, she would have to help. Would her opponent want to keep her safe? No. They would want to watch her go down and watch their herd rise. She would bleed, break, perhaps cry, but that could all be avoided. All she would have to do would be to train. Even if she looses, every battle is a chance to learn. Would Midas truly want to deprive her of a learning experience this amazing? Surely any fight with the King would be amazing.
She surged forward, a lunge that attempted to get her just close enough to Midas. Her lips curled back revealing white pearly teeth. Her jaw was open wide as she sought skin to clamp down on. She aimed her attack at the left side of his neck. If she bit him, she would try to hold her bite and tear skin off as she continues forwards, hoping to pass him on his left side. She moves quickly, not enjoying fighting so up close. As she moves forwards, she kicks out at where she hopes he still stands with as much force as an Arab could have. Though inexperienced, she is able to kick out quickly, aiming at his left hindquarter area. She is not the strongest, but she thinks it will be enough to bring some sort of pain to him if her attacks are successful.
Ooc: 1/3 (did this one on my phone, hence no table)
She tried to bite his neck and tear skin off, then she kicks his left hindquarter.
Du är ett bandage, ente en kniv = you are a bandage, not a knife
The blond storyteller was undaunted by my words or approach. In fact she met me head on, completely unfazed, nearly brushing our chests together by her boldness. I stiffen, resenting the nearness of this woman, but holding fast as her creamy lips and hot breath move to form words that I wouldn't understand. Those soft vocals are taunting, not soothing. They aren’t a curse, but a lure. Dark ears flick back a notch and my brows furrow with growing frustration, yet I don't retort her strange words. I have a feeling she is beyond listening to me.
Ah Drom, not now--not tonight. Any other eve I'd been glad to school her in the art of dancing. We'd have spun beneath the frozen sky as lovers do, I being the gentle teacher that'd firmly guide her flesh to become taunt, seasoned. Yar, but now my soul felt as a caged wolf. I imagine it gashing and snarling, frothing toward the end of a fragile chain that was the pitch black sorrow which plagued this heart. A starving animal robbed of light, of love.
My gaze never left her, but the bottomless pools began to harden, become angry. A fire which burned in my soul was slow to come alive but when it did, there were few that could simmer hotter. "Drom," I cautioned softly, tried to warn. Don't be rash child. She moved away, though not to retreat. I started to speak again, to leave this glade and walk back into the forest. Leave for the sake of my sanity.
Drom wouldn't have me leave, she pushed from the ground. Creamy lips curling back, the storyteller came seeking blood. I snarled, a rumbling sound that sounded unnatural coming from the jaws of an herbivore. Her snaking neck and gashing teeth find the left side of my neck before I can react, she scraps the thick fur I'd earned during Frostfall but didn't break past. I pull up, roaring with frustration into a standing rear. Jerking my crown angerly to follow her passing frame. Dual gold dipped pinions extend to thrash. They swung fast and hard, without my usually reserve or withholding.
They strike to bat against that sandy colored head or neck as Drom moves to put distance between us. Her kick falls to the inner side of my right thigh. That blunt kick stings when hoof meet flesh, a bruise would later swell. Truthfully I can hardly feel the pain of it. I feel hot and angry, my blood sings a sweet song. Ashy lips pull away to show her the shine of ivory. While reared I swung my forelegs out, with the pointed tips of my feet angled down. I hope a flailing hoof would strike the top of her spine or rear.
Words: 465
Attack: (1/3)
@[Dröm]
OCC: sorry it took so long
Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer
The painted stallion before me is hesitant to start this battle for reasons I am not aware of. He says my name, a warning? It doesn't so much to scare me off. I enjoy the way he says my name, no matter the tone. If he truly wants to scare me off, he'd act like Morir. Midas, it's impossible for him to scare me away, not now, not ever. Why can he not see this? I'm too loyal to leave. I'd never seen the painted stallion fight before, but I was sure it wouldn't be much of a deterrent. If it were to scare me, I'd most likely leave the Falls. I wouldn't not be the storyteller for a stag I was afraid of. The Czarina already creeped me out a touch, which was unfortunate. I hadn't really ever gotten a chance to meet my leader, and I hoped I would be able to someday.
After lunging at him, scraping his next with my pearly white teeth, and kicking his inner thigh, he hits my upper chest. The feeling of his hard wing slapping against my breasts causes my lungs to deflat, all the air in my system exhaling through slightly parted lips. I figured I would not beat Midas. He seemed far more talented in this field, though he was only one or two hands taller than me he was loaded with muscle (at least in my eyes he was), and he had large wings that he has used once now to get the advantage. He had raised himself into a rear, spinning around to follow me close on my heels. A rounded hoof is planted on the top of my ass. I halt firmly, feeling the dull throb of where his hoof was begin to ache. My hooves dig into the ground, giving me extra traction as I halt. I lift my hindquarters off of the ground, lashing my rear legs out. I don't really have a specific area I wish to hit, so instead I just flail around.
Once I feel my hooves on solid ground again, I take off. I move at a quick pace, hoping the distance between my opponent and I grows. I was built for speed and endurance, hoping dearly this would come into use for a longer battle, like I assumed this one would be. I was outdone. Midas was far too skilled of an opponent, but I would still try. I would never not try. I craned my head around to look at Midas. What was he doing? Was he chasing me? Was he using some crazy magic? I shake my head and turn to the left sharply and begin circling where I assume Midas is (if he hasn't moven) in a counterclockwise movement. My ears are forward, alert and curious. I'm not really an angry fighter like it seems Midas is. My ears don't normally pin, and I don't really have some deep inner conflict that makes me fight. I'm only fighting for practice, but can I say the same for the tricolored stag?
This was different than fighting Ciceron. Ciceron was huge, much, much, much taller than I am. He had a sharp horn that could have easily pierced my skin and have been driven far into my body. That day, fighting that unicorn, I could've ended up lifeless on the ground. Perhaps he wouldn't have murdered me, for I believe I am in the same herd as him, but it still was an uncomfortable situation. In more ways than one, it was safer to fight Midas. His bones were hollow, so he must be lighter. He had no dagger to stab me with, nor was he a huge wall of muscle. I guess he kind of is a huge wall of muscle and raw power, but he wasn't that tall. In fact, he was short like me, I rather liked this idea.
Ooc:; 2/3
Halts, Bucks out at him, circles him counterclockwise
SOO SORRY FOR THE WAIT <3
The wolf inside my soul cage is a snarling, salivating mess. He snaps at the end of a golden chain, satisfied that my swinging wings strike her breast with enough strength for me to catch a faint rasp of air being forcefully pressed from those pale lungs. My right forehoof collides with the top of one honeyed cheek. I start to fall forward again, twisting to the right and angling away from her hindquarters that are remarkably closer than I'd have liked.
My action comes a moment too late, she retorts fast and hard. The full weight of her hindhooves strike my vulnerable chest and stomach region. There was a snap beneath the fur and flesh, something had broke on the inside. A scream lifts past my lips, it isn't just a throb or ache -- tis utter and total agony. My eleventh and twelfth ribs are set around vital organs, they suffer a blow that cannot be stood against. Unseen by mortal eyes the eleventh bone breaks completely and the other has a snaking hairline fracture.
I fall forward and stumble a step. Shocked, shivering violently as each painful breath is brought to my lungs. It hurt to take in oxygen, but my muscles required it. This body had to have air. I'm gasping, breathing too fast. My limbs are locked, trembling...Frozen in place.
Fina feels my fear and samples the agony as if it was her body which was inflicted. She shrieks and takes to the sky, my wound is a distraction and though I've sent her previous instructions to stay out of the fray -- she ignores them and comes with dark talons aiming for the top of Drom's spine. Her flaming wings flash away the shadows, they burn hot and aim to sear flesh by fanning against the back of Droms neck.
Words: 308
Attack: (2/3)
@[Dröm]
Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer