"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.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
It was stupid. There was no purpose to plunging downwards when all her life she had trained and trained herself that survival comes from staying on top of the water. What was even down there? Nothing special, or someone would have already tried to dive down and investigate. Her two-sided lungs worked in mysterious ways. She could of asked as many questions as she liked to the Earth God if she got lucky enough to be within his presence.
The water had the ability to be a new home if she ever needed it to be, a potentially dangerous one with new dangers and things unseen. She could join a freak show or just move into the sea for the rest of her life if something was to happen that caused her to be unable to reach a home.
Sleeping with the fishes didn't seem that bad. There had to be some sort of ediable foliage in the ocean, and when it was dark, her horn would be there to light the way.
The reasons were good enough, but there was the final issue: it looked like suicide every time she attempted the feat, and maybe the Gods weren't as kind as they were, and someday, it wouldn't work anymore for her and she'd drown in a form of irony.
Swiveling her head about the point of her skull, her eyes work feverishly for any signs of others. It was a drug, to see what was down beneath the surface, to see just how captivating it was to view something that probably no others had seen before her. Dusk light ignited the flickering lights of hovering dust particles, and the birds and Cicadas engaged in the usual tempo of music. No bodies shift through the trees to greet her. No one was going to watch her do it, right?
Nervously, her hooves push against the tension across the surface of the pond, watching as it breaks when the rest of her body enters, enveloping herself within her new home.
It wasn't suicide, dare anyone think, only a risk that could bring new wonders that couldn't dare to even fit within her mind.
OOC: Sikeax is testing out her new passive magic, btw.
@[Roland]
never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
It was a wonder that there still remained parts of the realm that the Thief had not yet explored. Or perhaps it was not; he wasn't often one for wandering these days. It was almost laughable, since he had never remained in one place for long, years before. There had been no time to settle, no time for complacency, no opportunity to drop anchor for any longer than a few seasons at best. Now he had formed a vague acquaintance with the land; Roland could recall and identify that one particular root he seemed to always trip over on his way out of the Basin's valley. He knew the exact tree under which he liked to sleep in the Thistle Meadow, if he ever grew tired on his walks, though they were few in number. He had come to know particular twists in the worn path that stretched and wound from the north to the south. He recognized the particular pool of water- now almost dry in the heat of summer- that sat in the Threshold, the one he had bathed in on his arrival, with his father's lackeys still on his tail. He had built a layer of memories and meanings into the land, a familiarity that only came with an extended stay.
The Thief had no name for the place he came across now, no knowledge of what it was, or where he was. He had committed to memory, roughly, the route he had taken to arrive in the grove but he was, unequivocally, lost. Or perhaps not. But he was not entirely helpless, nor was he entirely alone. With any luck, Sikeax could give him directions, unless she was no more familiar with the area than he. The Thief hoped she would recognize him from when they'd seen each other last. Perhaps they could have another game.
Roland picked his way through the thick foliage, ducking beneath clusters of leaves and stumbling over tangled roots, around crooked branches thick with fragrant blossoms. His hooves slipped from the grassy bank, pushing through the reeds that grew in abundance at the pool's edge. The water was not excessively cool, nothing like the ocean in winter, and thankfully it did not carry the sickly stench of salt that never failed to turn his stomach. The Thief waded forwards without a moment's hesitance, still a fair ways away from the champagne filly. The moon reflected off the surface of the pool, chalky fragments of white light floating like shards of broken glass, stirred by the ripples of his movements. Roland's gaze settled questioningly upon the younger mare, brow creased in concern as he watched her push deeper into the water. "What are you doing?" He inquired, not unkindly. His voice was soft enough to avoid stirring the peaceful silence in the grove, hoping his sudden appearance would not startle her.
It became evident after a moment, however, that she had not heard his approach, must have been lost in contemplation, stolen away in her own thoughts. The Thief looked on with a growing sense of alarm as she carried herself further into the water until it reached her chest, her withers, her throat, and without waiting to see if she would sink deeper Roland launched himself forwards. The tranquility he had earlier hoped to preserve was effectively broken as he pushed through the water, hooves digging into the soft sand underfoot. He followed the light of her horn as he neared, waves rolling across his back and surging against his chest. Could she swim? Was this nothing but a harmless sport- would he be considered a fool for swooping in and attempting to rescue her from her own amusements? He had rarely swam as a child, and that had not been for a great many years. Was he to be pulled under as well, lost to the snare of weeds and bulrushes lurking beneath the surface?
"Sia," he called out nervously as he drew closer. He hadn't forgotten what she'd said to him last, and had wondered afterwards at what it had meant. Did she consider him a friend? Was that why she had said it, in invitation? Was he right to call her by her nickname? "Sikeax!" He repeated firmly, though it might have been futile. Would she hear him beneath the surface; could she sense his ungraceful and uncoordinated approach, the discordant surge of his limbs through the waves as he fought to reach her? The Thief couldn't help but wonder as he reached her side, propelled forwards so suddenly that he would crash into her if she did not move; had his seemingly harmless game of throwing stones into bottomless caverns inspired some suicidal tendencies within the quiet girl?
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
Ecstasy floods her veins while the water drinks her in. Her muzzle and eyes were uncomfortable to push under, but when a crashing wave strikes what removes above the water, she becomes fully engulfed in the pond and sinks, taking a breath only to figure out that she isn't dying, but feeling herself breathe like she always does. Is this normal? Is this what dying is like? Death must be some sort of bliss, she decides, but it doesn't attack her, snapping at her throat and lungs when she takes in water. Sikeax!
Her name pulls her out of there in fear that she has come too close to the barrier between life and death, the ghosts on the other side yelling her name to guide her in. Legs churn, pushing her to the surface. The switch is a bitch.
Water spats from her and then she's aware that she was never near the barrier, that someone very real was throwing themselves towards her to ensure that she was alright. What's his name again? Roland? Bathed in moonlight, his details are more defined than they were when they had first spoken. A comfort soothes her, finding ease in that maybe someone finds her important.
Crawling towards him, embarrassment falls atop her like a dark blanket. "I'm fine, I promise. I was..." Her eyes scan the disrupted surface of the pond in confusion as if her reasoning for that was going to leap from the waters and hit her in the face. It never does. "I'm not sure what I was doing, to be honest. When you go underwater, do you normally choke or does it feel natural to you? Like you breathe above the water?"
Maybe it was normal for others to be able to breathe underwater and she'd been slow figuring it out. It wasn't like she had attempted to drown herself before and then discovered that 'hey, I'm not dying,' whenever she went under.
Roland's reaction should of been enough to tell her that breathing underwater wasn't natural, but reassurance would be nice.
never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
He got through to her, whether it was by the sound of his voice above the water, or the cacophony of his approach did not matter. She rose towards him as the Thief dug his hooves into the soft sand, drawing to an abrupt halt with the water at his throat. Much to his relief, Sikeax pushed above the surface moments later, horn parting the water like a luminous sword held aloft. Relief flooded Roland's chest as he met her startled gaze, letting out a rush of breath as the beat of his heart slowed to an even pace. She moved towards him slowly, almost ashamed, tentative in her advance. The Thief watched the water run across the contours of her face in thick rivulets, caught by the moonlight, painted, infused with quicksilver. How easily she could have fallen victim to the water, to its merciless grasp, lost to cold and lightless depths. He kept quiet, swallowing every incredulous demand, every question as to just what she thought she was doing, toeing the line of danger.
The ground was not so easy to reach at their depth, and so the Thief made an awkward retreat until he could find dependable footing. The water lapped at his chest, cool and clear and nothing like the ocean. Instead the pond, like a living thing around them, swelled, moved, and sank with every movement as the young mare followed after him, the deathly silence that had once gripped the clearing fading away beneath the intonation of their voices, echoing across the surface of the pond and the crooked spines of trees as they bent, leaned, and brushed their leaf-laden fingers through the water.
"I'm glad you're alright," the Thief breathed out, an almost stern note to the deep quiet of his voice. He withdrew a step more, pushing through the water as if to make towards the bank again, to be removed from the pond and wring himself out, but her question stopped him short. He paused, head tilting a fraction to the side as he studied her, eyes narrowed just the slightest amount in thought, a combination of bemusement and deliberation. What on earth could she be talking about? Was this a distorted fable, fool's folklore, some trick she had fallen prey to and decided to test out for herself? Silence closed its hand around the grove once more, only the drip of water from the mare's hide breaking the stillness, and the rare and distant splash of a fish as it leapt for fireflies.
The truth was, Roland wasn't sure if he had ever submerged himself completely underwater. Perhaps as a child, many years ago, when he would play along the river's edge. He might have waded into the current, dipped beneath the surface and fought its weight, felt the churning, thundering force as it battered against the rocks; but now it was only the most distant of memories, more of a fragment, a fraction, of a recollection. Though, he did have it on good authority that their kind was not capable of breathing underwater. And yet, for some reason- perhaps to humour her, or sate his own sudden and foolish curiousity, he looked towards the water pushing at his chest and dipped his head. It was an uncomfortable sensation, lowering his muzzle into the cool water, closing his eyes as it rolled against his cheekbones. No, there was nothing natural about the sensation, the danger of having the breath stolen from your lungs, a helpless, terrible feeling that dug cold fingers into his skin, beat against his rib cage. A stream of bubbles followed his ascent as he pulled his muzzle from the water, shaking his head to rid of the droplets. "I cannot breathe underwater," he stated definitively, a curl to his lips, almost suspicious, but not judgemental. His voice was cautious when he followed, on the brink of curiousity- and perhaps wonder- at her ventures. "Can you?"
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