"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.
09-11-2012, 02:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2012, 03:18 PM by Random Event.)
:: EQUINE CROSS COUNTRY RACE ::
The first round takes place in HELOVIA'S HEART, and will last 72 HOURS. Please be sure to note the description of the land, as follows:
In the center of the realm of Helovia, a vast hole breaks up the terrain. In its gaping depth fire runs eternally, as if the beating heart of the earth itself. Its diameter runs 50 feet, making it an obstacle to circumvent rather than cross. Little foliage grows nearby, too withered by the encompassing heat that even keeps winter’s touch at bay year round. In the surrounding area extends a flat plain of clay and soil, intermittent with glittering gemstones. Eventually the dull crust fades into tall grasslands capable of hiding the average horse, rending most unable to see above the field. Stay wary of what noises this sea of vegetation brings.
Your character will be running from the SOUTH border, where the Heart meets the Dragon's Throat, and heading NORTHEAST toward the Thistle Meadow and Deep Forest.
Here are some rules to note:
You may only post if you previously signed up to compete in the Cross Country Race.
You must post in every round to gain ground.
Failure to post in a round will result in a rank drop of 2 positions, unless you are on a valid absence.
The order of the second round will be determined by posting order of this first round!!
An RE will be posting a minimum of 2 times in each round, dealing out malevolent or benevolent effects to the person who posted prior. RE post order will be determined by a die roll to ensure fairness.
You may post sabotaging other characters, but this will not affect the official rankings.
HAVE FUN!
09-11-2012, 03:10 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2012, 04:03 PM by Query.)
Query heard the call that signaled the start of the Olympics. She made her way to the Heart of Helovia where she had never been before. She too not of the fiery infernos that were scattered around, even with the days getting shorter and the nights longer it was still really warm here. She also noted that the plants were in short supply, which made sense to her with all the heat and lack of any nearby water source.
She was too focused on wondering just how this race would turn out and taking in the scenery to notice if anyone else was here already or not.
She hoped that she would do well, seeing as this was her first time partaking in an event such as this.
She quickly snapped out of her trance and took off runnin' the sand underneath her hooves made her think of the days that she would run along the beaches and play in the waves. Only it wasn't nearly as cool and she was already starting to sweat a bit.
Luckily for Query she had a brief understanding of the layout of the land and started running east towards the Thistle Meadow.
It was an odd sensation, this anticipation of competing against those I did not know. Generally, I maintained my distance; a cautious creature with no particular desire to explore the worlds of others, but today I had emerged from my hiding, as Kali seemed to imagine it. Adrenaline surged through my veins at the mere idea of launching my body forward across the line - and that we had started in the Heart only helped to fuel my energy, for I held no desire to be caught in the realm of fire for long. Gold dusting was growing in to cover flaking scars, but still my legs and sides ached, ached with the cruelty of fire and fear. I ground my teeth against the idea of just how sore I would be, following this event. I've seen worse. Felt worse. Suck it up, girl. Behind me, Kali trilled her support. She would not be running, but flying above to keep an eye on my progress. I had been adamant in my instructions that she was not to sabotage the poor unwary runners, but even now I felt a wry uneasiness at her ability to listen to instructions. She looked so innocent, playing with gemstones and chirping at the other spectators.
I shook my head, and turned my attention back on the race.
The first step took me by surprise, the ground sandier than I the clay I had anticipated - but we were near the Throat, and that the desert's influence had clearly stretched outside its borders. Muscles bunched and released, regrouping after my initial shock; developing into a steady canter. Tall grass whipped and stung my chest as I ran, and I flicked my ears back to avoid the roaring wind even as the sound of my heartbeat pounded against my skull. All thought of the other runners was disregarded, memories of the outside world shut out. I let the thoroughbred structure and arabian endurance inherited from unknown parents propel me, and thanked my lucky stars that my lineage had proved so useful. Northeast I ran, keeping mind of the direction of the sun, orienting myself to remain in a trajectory that would lead me towards the Heart of the continent. Grassland fell away into cracked ground, heat rising as we approached the devilish pit. A decision to be made - left or right? - and I veered east around it, making my way to the Thistle Meadow.
09-11-2012, 03:42 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2012, 03:54 PM by Torasin.)
It was an odd feeling. Adrenaline. Very rare to Torasin that was. The stallion found himself lining up against friends and unknown competitors, excited about the unusual challenge ahead. Equipping his slender legs to there best potential, the paint paced himself as he set off on the gruelling journey across known and unknown territories. Golden pelt gleaming whilst it could, the colder weather would soon take its toll and Torasin would go whiter in appearance. His brown bonded flew above, scrutinizing his friends position and shouted his own encouragement. Torasin thought he'd make a good slave driver. Cracked hooves flew across the Throat land border and into the heart.
Snap!
A mass of creamy mane was all that could be seen as he plunged into the tall grass, his hooves driving over the moaning roots of the ground below. The cool, tall stems a welcome relief to the stress of the race although it didn't last long.
Pushing onwards, the foliage dropped away slightly as the biting heat of the heart played with his pelt, causing him to flinch at its uncomfortable heat. Torasin picked up the pace to further himself from the uncomfortable area, snorting as the ground churned up beneath his hooves and turned northeast towards the meadow land. Time passed in seemingly short intervals as his entire focus was on the race, trampling any emotions he felt to those around him. The overly polite stallion keeping himself to himself.
Kiba squawked as the gilded steed flew on, hooves pounding away from the heart and on towards the Thistle Meadow where his sons so often liked to play.
Right before you reach the line of the Thistle Meadow border, you trip. You fall flat on your face for a few brief seconds and allow one individual to pass you before scrambling to your feet.
09-11-2012, 04:44 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2012, 04:46 PM by Lace.)
LACE
Who, in his mind,
has not probed the dark water?
Sometimes it was pleasant to simply run for the sake of running. To feel the muscles stretch and contract, hear the heart beat and feel each breath expand and explode out into the surrounding air as he leaped forward, ever forward without goal. But from time to time a bit of competition could make the already pleasant experience even more interesting. It was the reason why he had gathered up with the others in the southern parts of the land, where the grass grew ridiculously tall and the ground appeared to consist of nothing but sand and clay. It provided treacherous footing, even more so since he couldn't see where he was going.
Lace started out with a steady pace, making sure not to overexert himself from the beginning. He was a sprinter rather than endurance racer, built for short moments of explosive speed and agility, mixed with elegant strength that came close to the image of a dancer; it suited him well enough in battles that rarely lasted long, but in events like these he would have to conserve his strength. It was hard though, because the white dragon that flew beside him didn't seem to be entirely fond of his plan. She tried to tease him into running faster, and the habit of racing against only her was hard to overlook.
Even so the grullo stallion laughed cheerfully where he ran, enjoying the strength of his own body and the pleasant lack of heat in the air. It was desert country, yet the sun was bearable and so far the opponents he had spotted seemed to be playing fair. It was bound to change, but until anything happened to him he'd just take it easy and enjoy himself.
It became easier to run when the grass grew more scarce. He saw and felt how the ground changed character under his feet and began to change direction ever so slightly to the east, taking a wide path around the Heart and towards the Meadow that waited in the north. It would cost him some time, but the ground was steady here and he wouldn't have to get caught in a crowd; it suited him better to have plenty of space around.
When he came closer to the border of the Thistle meadow, the silver-coated knight allowed himself to look up from the ground to give his opponents a glance. To his surprise he found himself without too many adversaries, which must mean that he was rather close to the lead; in the distance he spotted the dark shape of an equine accompanied by some pale creature that flitted around her body. Before her ran another mare, one with a pale coat that might have some kind of markings on it - it was hard to tell with the distance and the speed with which they all were traveling. Easier to spot was the painted stallion that careened ahead just in front of him. Lace snorted with dark ears twitching slightly, contemplating trying to catch up with him and have a chat as they ran... But before he had the time to decide the other seemed to stumble and disappeared, falling to the ground in a rather unbecoming way.
He winced in sympathy and scrutinized the ground ahead as he changed the direction slightly, making sure not to run over the fallen competitor as he continued to gallop ahead, passing by the other while sparing him a glance and a comment that he hoped wouldn't sound too awful.
"Too bad! See you up ahead!" It wasn't really meant to be mean, rather a sincere wish to battle this out with him later on. For now though, Lace wouldn't complain about the event that gave him a slightly better position; he returned his focus to the race and kept up the pace, careful to watch his footing as he continued over the border and into the Thistle Meadow.
09-11-2012, 05:02 PM (This post was last modified: 09-24-2012, 08:01 PM by Tor.)
bound to wander forever, but maybe not alone
Tor's silver-white mane flickered in the wind like grass swaying on the prairie. The dual-colored tobiano felt oddly like she was running from the pegasus inhabiting the Dragon's Throat as she quickly approached Helovia's heart, dark brown eyes sweeping over the harsh landscape moving towards her. Although clumsy, the mare was pleased to say she hadn't tripped yet, and had gotten a good enough lead at the moment. White knees lifted higher, golden hooves reached out farther as Tor lengthened her already vast stride. Her hooves rasped against the hard black rock, and she could smell the scent of ash and lava, an inexplainable scent, thick on the air, mingling to create a powerful aroma. It wasn't too unpleasant, but she much preferred the sweet air of forest meadows and open fields, or even better, the cold of the tundra kissing her skin.
The Friesian cross quickened yet again, to just slower than a gallop. She could see the twisting gold vein protruding from the black skin of the earth, red bubbling around the edges. It was a drop to the middle, and a shudder twined through her body. The rock turned to slick clay and a plethora of different soils, crushed and firm under her hooves. Tension oozed out of her tense body, and she dropped her head, relaxing her crest. Soon enough, the grass began to grow, and it almost blocked her view despite her tall 17.1 height. It scratched against her skin, but it's heavy scent crossed out the tainted aroma of lava, and Tor welcomed it. On to the Thistle Meadow.
As she ran, her thoughts wandered. The pounding of her huge heart in her chest thudded dully in her ears. She revisited her childhood memories.
Her father was a big stallion, no doubt. Hovering around 18.1, he was a Gypsy Vanner Percheron stud. He was the color of stormclouds, rippled with silver streaks through his mane and tail, dappled thickly with white. An imposing figure, a capable stallion, and a kind one. On the other hand, Tor's mother was a sweet black Friesian, with a delicate muzzle and sparkling violet eyes, an object of constant fascination to a young Tor. They lived as a small herd in the deep of the tundras and arctic, with a young bachelor stallion and a couple of other mares and other young fillies as well as colts. Tor half-closed her eyes, plunging through the grasses, a smile shimmering on her gray lips as she revisited. "Mother, what are those?!" The young filly named Tor squealed, half-rearing. Hundreds of clicking and clacking; a huge herd of caribou, thundering through. Wolves lurked about the edges, and Father lifted his massive head, nostrils flaring.
"Let us leave. The wolves follow the caribou, as is the way of life. We should leave before they begin to tail us." And the herd ran swiftly and smoothly, until the foals were gasping and the mares were weary. Then they began to story-tell. Tor inhaled deeply, remembering the many days with the herd before her father had kindly told her it was time to leave. "Sweetling, you need to leave. You're an older mare now, and it's time to find a mate. Run to the south for twelve days and turn east-south for sixteen days, and you will find a magic land where you will find a loved one." Tor nodded, and after a few kind goodbyes, she ran. She never regretted it, even now. Her parents had never raised her to regret, only to move forward. And so she had heeded them. And now, here she was, running in a race with gods watching over them, blessed with healing magic.
round up all the pieces, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
Young colt begins at the pace of a run. He runs from the past and the distress of his family, leaves his shadow behind and misses her comforting bark while recognizing the need to be alone. Manhattan has no place in this; it is a race to determine prowess, and for the first time he feels brave enough to reveal himself to the world.
He becomes rapidly aware of the fact that his competition likely does not know him. He is the dark and mysterious colt of the foothills with the bridle that shines an ominous green and the eyes that reveal nothing. Some know him as the son of the sentinel; those that don't can see it in the way he moves that he is somehow familiar. His build is massive even at a young age, his muscles thick and his body formed like a greco-romanesque sculpture. For all intents and purposes he is as perfectly created as a god, with chiseled features and an attractive appearance that appeals to even the most modest of mares. So young, and yet so strong. So handsome and yet such a lonesome vagabond. So much potential to win, so much potential to lose.
Knox does not hesitate- how can he when the urgency of winning strikes him like the beating of his very heart? There is an inexplicable desire to win, to distinguish himself from his mother and father. He refuses to be known any longer by the success of a corpse. Is he not his own?
And so he beats the ground with dinner-plate hooves of clean black, kicking up dust and rock in his wake. The earth shudders beneath his feet and trembles upon contact with his determined gallop. He runs dangerously close to the edge, letting the heat of the heart's flames push him onward. With his keen eyes he sees the other equines around him, all of varying creeds, but he does not take in their presence. He pictures himself alone, the terrain interrupted only by the massive hole in the earth and the occasional browning shrub. Isolation is the only way to live, it always has been for the strange young colt. It shall be the only way to win.
.arborun lignea .. .mare. ..23 years. .. .16.3 hands.
A head perked up with alert ears and bright eyes as a sudden flurry of activity marked the start of the race. "Oh my!" Willow fussed, glancing around to either side of her as she became aware she'd already lost much ground. She spotted Poppy not far beyond her and gave an airy laugh at their slowness. "Poppy, let's go, it's started!" Willow spoke as she strode forward on large, powerful limbs, at a walk.
Aborun as mature as she didn't do much in the way of charging or surging. Any sort of fast movement would set her tree swaying, often in the opposite way, and could lead to toppling over among other things. A fallen aborun was about as useful as an upside down turtle, so she intended to take her time slow and steady, especially in the beginning while she worked herself up to speed.
Luckily her great stature naturally gave her long strides and her excess traveling certainly had her in decent shape. Although it would do well not to be last she knew, if only because she'd get lost. So much of Helovia was still unknown, and such was the main purpose she decided to compete in this event - sightseeing!
Humming a happy tune to herself Willow gave the heart a wide berth, although paused to glance at the endless fire for a moment. The shrinking of her tree however soon had her hastily retreating, more than happy to dive into the seas of tall grasses. Although perhaps some were not so happy as she watched from afar one of the front runners tumble. She winced in sympathy, but he was soon up, fast on the heels of the grullo that passed him.
As she parted the grasses, her tree standing far above them like a beacon to any of the wandering that happened to get lost, a range of forest began to open up before her. Even more delighted she picked up her pace to a steady trot, tree limbs shaking as hooves rattled the ground. That would soon prove exhausting, but she wanted to make it into some of the deeper parts of the forest at least before slowing. There was sure to be a plethora of flora to examine, knowledge which would be crucial to her herbal healing.
She does not understand the idea of the race, only that it is a nice day and it is nice to be here with Willow and trot beside her and chatter happily to Ermine. Willow declares that it has started, and she dutifully falls into place beside her goddess, peering around curiously as the others run past. "Why so fast?" she asks, concerned; "Pretty to walk, no run." In truth, her walk could be considered as much of a lopsided trot as anything else; it took great effort for her to keep up with Willow's longer strides, levels of concentration perhaps too powerful for her hazy mind.
Consistently she fell behind, too busy was she in admiring the landscape; she found the great circle of fire troubling, the barren earth and stench of flame hurting her nostrils. Her vines quivered as they rounded the Heart; cautiously she clung to Willow's side, a shadow using her mighty friend as a barrier against the threat of flame. "Keep going," she suggested, an edge of desperation in her thin voice as she peered into the fire, crimson eyes reflecting the bright light of the Heart. She was relieved when the older mare pressed on; happily, her vines unfurled, leaves blooming against the pale silver of her coat. The edge of the Heart could not come soon enough, and she would be glad to escape that wasteland of hard, angry plants and sundered ash.
In this land, it was not hard for the femme to find motivation to move swiftly. The Heart held so many deep, dark connotations for her - in saying that, she was fortunate to have trekked here as occasionally as she had, for she knew the terrain well. It reminded her of the ashy sands her parents spoke of in the Obsidian Desert, where one could take a single step, have the ground shift beneath them, and need to take three more to simply be in the original spot they had deigned to be in. Breaths passed between her charred nostrils, the acrid air of the Heart was not something she enjoyed - but at least, she would be able to get through it swiftly.
The starting line was akin to running through the desert sands of Throat, but the sands soon turned into dried tundra, and eventually, volcanic dirt. The Arabic lineage in her blood gave her strength over time, the capacity of her lungs the draft heritage awarded her with allowed her to pull oxygen even from this polluted air. The great hole of the Heart was ahead, and with familiar wariness of its heat, and its depths, Mirage circumvented the lava-filled well, ignoring Akaith as she danced in the skies above it. Ahead, she could see the rise of the Thistle Meadow, and the edge of the Deep Forest, marked by a wall of timbers and thick bush. She pushed onwards, not bothering to waste her breath on encouraging others around her, but offering small smiles to those she knew.
She was determined, her footing was steady - so far. With pride her tail was held high behind her rotund rump, her visage held on the tip of her curved nape to extenuate the millennia of evolution that had gone into the creation of her breeds. This was her element.
09-12-2012, 08:27 AM (This post was last modified: 09-12-2012, 08:27 AM by Random Event.)
Your footing may be steady, but that doesn't stop vultures from Helovia's Heart to be bothered by Akaith in the sky as she tries to keep up with you. They are so perturbed that they badger you and your dragon, flying around your head in an awful squall. You have to dance and dive to try to avoid their pecks, and by the time they have given up their pursuit, 2 individuals have passed you.
It seemed like she had only just crossed Helovia's Heart, only to find out that she had to turn around and race back across. She had waited near Mirage, leaping forward as the race begain. Her hooves dug into the ground, her linage givng her a slight advantage as well. Her footing was steady as she pushed forward. She was startled as the birds began attacking not only Akaith but Mirage as well. The young roan raced ahead with a worried look over her shoulder to make sure her leader was alright. She then pushed forward, hooves digging into dirt mixed with gemstones below. Around the true heart of helovia she raced, her path heading for both the Thistle Meadow and her home the Deep Forest.
❧
The Heart is Wiser than the Mind
❧
Please Tag Kiara in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kiara at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.
It seemed like deja vu for the young two year old. As a child, barely a few months old, he had run in Isilme along side his family in a race around Helovia. He had struggled early on, but somehow made up time and finished just behind the three way tie for first, two of which were his granddam and his father. He and his mother had tied for second place. Now he picked a lazy pace from his home in the Foothills down to the border where Helovia's Heart met the Dragon's Throat. The colt had not been into that herdland since he gained his magic from the God of the Sun. As they all gathered, Aaron looked around seeing a few familer faces. Then suddenly they were off.
The dual painted colt shot off, hooves digging into the clay dirt mixed with gemstones below. The land had little plant life, and the heat from the heart was warmer that the part draft colt liked. He pushed ahead, brown eyes focused on those ahead. He watched as a stallion the same color as his dam stumbled ahead. He kept moving, only shying away as birds began attacking Mirage and her bonded dragon. The colt tucked his head down and pushed forward trying to make up ground. He headed northeast, for the Thistle Meadow and the Deep Forest. He just had to do well.... since his mother was not there to urge him on this time.
Broad hooves swallow the land with ease. The starting chime stirred up much ashy, sandy dust. Strong limbs pulled through the much if it tried to swallow them, feathers upon their legs helping to prevent the muck from gathering in the scoop shaped crescent of their hooves. Tails lashed against their hides, and the siblings ran, side by side, brothers in a race where only one could win. A devilish grin scarred the façade of each of them; indeed, only one would win.
Eyes of predators viewed the trees ahead, the path they chose was one least restricted by others running, but natural hazards of randomly heated ground giving way to smoky holes of abysmal darkness were obstacle enough. Though they started the race close together, several lengths were now between them, Madyrn on his brother's left, Maskan way out to the right. Their styles of covering ground were conformationally similar, as the likeness between the stallions' builds allowed for little deviance.
But as they parted, differences could be seen. One, the one with darkness upon his forelegs and fire upon his hinds, Maskan, moved with steps that barely left a mark upon the earth below, his form weaving around and over the debris that might come in their way. His brother, one with fiery forelegs, dashed onwards, pushing himself through, harder and faster, breaths snorting through his nostrils, clambering through and over most obstacles, barely giving himself time to recover should his feet slip out from beneath him.
The brothers did not even hesitate as their sister was held back by ravenous birds, they knew her capable enough of gaining ground without their interference. Such was their focus on winning, little else mattered at this point to them.
The mare's hooves struck the red ground hard. Her slim legs extended and retracted in a familiar rhythm. To run was her calling, her body crafted for it by the humans' careful breeding. For the first time since she had reached Helovia, Bellatrix felt that she was back in her own element. The heat of the heart and the arid soil flew past her, the ghost of her old desert homeland.
She kept her sights on the terrain and off of the other competitors. She was only a stranger to them, and only wanted to be farther away from their crowding presence. The loneliness of her brief time in this new land had hardened the dappled girl. There was no rider to guide her in this place, no hand to comfort her. Despite the specks of horses around her, she was alone. Dull indignation burned in her chest, spurring her on faster. She wondered why the Gods had let her endure such misfortune. What had she done to deserve being torn away from her family? Halfheartedly, the doe hoped that some supreme being would watch over her now. Her agile frame flew across the expanse, methodically avoiding poor footed areas and striving for the goal. There was nothing to run for except herself now. That would have to be enough.
Idly, her mind wandered back to the draft stallion she had followed from the Threshold. Gaspard. She hadn't really been able to help him, she couldn't even truly make sure he was alright. Like a fool, she had wondered if he might want to stay by her side, to give her some companionship in this wild place. But in another cruel twist of fate, she was left to wander, once again, with only her shadow. Dark granite ears fell backwards in resentment. There was no one to blame for the circumstances, only an anger that was left to drive her onward through the tall grass that slapped against her hide. It keened her senses and gave her a new found independence. The metallic dame barreled on, leaving only a slew of faint prints in her wake.
There were so many of them all in one place just waiting. Waiting for what? Some sort of sign that would set them all to running? The mare's tail lashed back and forth, her ears flat against her skull as she waited. And the sign came. Muscles bunched under her stripped, scarred hide and then she was off, slate grey hooves thundering against the earth as she ran.
"Run faster! You cannot lose!"
The voices were unwelcome at this point, but they were right. She couldn't lose to any of them. They may have been equine, but she felt no kinship to them, only the need to beat them. Hurt them. There was a grey mare ahead of her and Histe pumped her legs harder to catch up to her. As she pulled up closer to BELLATRIX her lips peeled back she aimed a quick bite for the mare's face.
ooc://
sorry D:
Histe refuses to run a clean race. it's not in her blood
Long strides carry the white and gold mare through the Heart. The heat was blistering, but it was nothing compared to the God's fire as it had scorched her flesh. Still, it made her want to leave the Heart all the more quickly. Soleil's heart pounded in her ears and her hooves drummed against the ground in a quick yet steady rhythm. Ahead of her she could see a striped mare biting at another mare and she wondered if any of the other racers would resort to such sneaky, underhanded methods to try and gain a place in the ranks.
Nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply and began to concentrate only on the race. The beating of her hooves. The pound of her heart. The way others raced shouldn't matter. Only reaching the finish line.
The stallion's muscles tensed, his bay coat caked in sweat. The stallion swerved, avoiding a large pit that was too wide to jump over. The plant life was withered around the hole, the heat emitting from it was still felt from a mere ten or more feet away. The stallion felt that if he peered into the hole, he would see the heart of the earth, beating loudly, it's beat far too unusual for any other creature's heart to beat.
The stallion noticed the terrain quickly changed into a dirt clay mix, small gemstones peeked out of the earth, escaping it's grasp. The stallion's hooves found their way around the gems, and soon the bare dirt was covered by tall grass. The stallion, being taller than most horses, could peek up, seeing only part of the sky and terrain before him.
The stallion flicked his ears back, hearing something rustling beside him, this scared him, and he bolted forward, his hooves barely touching the ground as he ran. The stallion felt a small jolt of adrenaline, and he raced ahead, feeling as though nothing can stop him from getting to the finish line.
OOC: Hmm. Unsure if he should slow another horse down soon.
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