"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.
09-15-2012, 05:56 PM (This post was last modified: 09-15-2012, 05:56 PM by Knox.)
Young colt had fallen. Darkness had taken over his vision, and when he first had stepped away from the veins of the gods, he had fallen. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't sure if he had blacked out or if it was simply the ever persisting blindness. He wasn't sure of anything.
He heard Manhattan's barks, but he could not tell how far she was from him. He ached and cried, feeling as if every bone in his body had shattered upon the impact. He tried to move but could not, tried to breathe but felt himself being choked. Perhaps he was not meant to live- he wondered that as he lay still and bleeding. He was only aware he was bleeding because of the scent, which only just now crept into his understanding of his surroundings. Each sense returned slowly and with broken understanding, as if the links to his brain had been quickly severed. He felt a sticky heat lapping at his stomach and chin, tasted the familiar bitterness when he opened his mouth to cry out and was forced instead to spit out the taste.
"Manhattan!" He called, muffled by the dirt and blood pooling around his mouth. He wanted to say something else but he could not remember what- the only thing he could think of to say was her name. And so, his tone increasingly desperate, he shouted it again. "Manhattan!" Knox yelled, pain building inside him with every breath, fear rising with every moment that the blindness persisted. He heard her panting, felt her pawsteps vibrating through the earth as she neared him, and became aware of the fact that he had never before experienced such a heightened sense of his surroundings.
When she was beside him he didn't feel scared anymore. Whatever sense of fear and suffering had crippled him before left him in a moment, and all that he knew was how much he loved her. Her nose, cold and comforting, pressed against his forehead, while her body curled around his face. She was still small, barely taller than his ankle. Now he felt small and weak- helpless unless within her embrace.
He wasn't sure how long it was before he could stand again.
Maybe it was minutes, maybe it was hours, hell, maybe it had been days before he lifted himself up from the earth on weak and trembling legs like the very day that he had been born. Manhattan had lost her innocent and childish character- somehow she understood the gravity of the situation. Perhaps she had seen the Goddess before him and understood, perhaps she simply shared his mind more than he knew. But whatever it was, in those passing days, she was what kept the young colt alive. She was small and incapable of much, but she was steadfast and loyal. Were it not for the hunger, she likely would have led him home.
But as it were, she could take him no further than across the thin, slow flowing river and the rocks that made a bridge over it. The water proved a struggle for them both, especially as hunger wore on the pup, who was used to being hunted for by her master, and blood loss and bruising plagued Knox. They reached the other side of the river, soaked to the bone and exhausted from their battle with the waters, and could walk no further.
The bloodstained colt fell again, this time onto the unfamiliar sands of the Dragon's Throat. This time when Manhattan curled beside him, it was for warmth and comfort in what she thought may be the end.
Ophelia's eyes were closed as she focused on the pain that burned in her hips. Jaydan's horn had cut deeper than she had originally realized, and the sensation was so strange. It ebbed and flowed like bloody tides along the shore, but it burned like dragon's fire. Just when it would begin to fade, the ache would catch her mind and grab hold of it tightly, begging her brain not to move. Please, gods do not move. Nyra's cut along her side was a scratch along the surface compared to this, but Ophelia was unwilling to ask the healer for help. She most likely had more important matters to attend to.
The young mare compared it to the pain in her heart when she had seen Osiris and dappled grey pegasus on the beach. Her soul ached in a way that grabbed at her eyes and mind, pulling her down so agonizingly slowly with every breath. That pain crushed her chest into emotions of inadequacy and imperfections, but this pain. It clutched at her brain with the grip of a harpy, forcing her to focus.
But, she felt alive. Constantly the pain was pulling her out of her memories, for once, and back into the present. Every second she existed was in the here and now, and she reveled in the newness of this experience. Was this how normal creatures lived? Second by second. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Lucky them.
A small thud pulled her out of her thoughts, and her crystalline eyes snapped open, brows knitting with soft confusion. What was that? Instinct had long ago given way in her mind for the memories, so she willed her body forward, maintaining a slight limp on her hip, without thought to bodily injury. Even with Jaydan, it was not until he told her that he was going to kill her in cold blood that she had started running.
Cloven hooves moved easily through the sand as it slid through her tan toes, and she spied a black figure laying in the distance. Ophelia pushed her body into a limping jog, making her way to what she now saw was a handsome, dark colt. He had some strange contraption around his face, and he was bleeding. She blinked, hoping that he was still alive. What was he doing out here?
Ophelia snorted in surprise as she realized that among the black mass of fur and blood laid a dog of similar color, and she watched the pair curiously. "Boy," she murmured, lowering her grey muzzle to his face and gently shoving it to get his attention or wake him up. Ophelia flickered a white and crimson tail around her fetlocks. "Wake up," she hummed softly, her voice like ringing chimes. "Come, come. Lets get you some water."
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
09-16-2012, 09:42 AM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2012, 12:22 AM by Knox.)
Young colt felt hoofbeats shaking earth at the river bank, and wondered if it was the end. Was this death coming for him, speaking his name in a bid to call him into whatever realm awaited him? But no, he pieced together the words spoken, and none of them were his name. The touch of a velvet nose and lips brushed his face. He had never been kissed before- was this a kiss? Surely the reaper did not kiss those he stole away, surely this must have been something different. He felt exhaustion sweep over him to the point where he felt unable to move, even as the strange voice urged him upwards. He was unaware of the several minutes that passed before he could bear to open his eyes to the blackness and heed her words.
On heavy limbs he rose, teetering disturbingly from side to side. Upon his features, the glow of the white bridle had dimmed only to a dull shine, making the dapples across his eyes a sight marred by darkness. Manhattan stirred beneath the hot breath of the stranger and at the departure of Knox's warmth, whining softly in a feeble attempt to protect her master. Her paws braced against the ground and she tried to stand, but hunger gripped her and she fell as if she would never again rise. He felt her leave his side and panic struck him with the same speed that his blindness had. "Manhattan," He murmured as he lowered his head to her side, nudging her to rise. "Come, little one," He begged, desperation seeping through the cracks in his voice and the melancholy tone.
He found he was entirely unaware of his surroundings in a new way. With Manhattan too weak to stand, he felt empty and cold, as if there was nothing left- and to top it all off, he could not see. He had no understanding of where he stood, where the stranger was in relation to himself- when he lifted his head to breathe in more deeply the scents of the land, he found himself unintentionally brushing the mare's neck. He took in her scent instead, but did not recognize it. He did not recognize anything, for that matter- the way the earth felt beneath him was new and strange; the young colt had never before experienced the forgiving sands that coated the dragon's throat territory. He wondered faintly if that was where he was- he could recall faint descriptions of the land, but they all seemed to fail him in that moment.
At his feet, Manhattan whined and cried. Before him, the mare told him to find water. Around him everything was black. He turned in what he thought was the direction of the mare and once more drew too close, this time bumping her cheek with his nose. He drew back quickly, apologetically, not repulsed by the touch so much as unfamiliar with its concept. He found himself stumbling and struggling to stand on legs that yearned to fold and rest, found himself turning desperately as if it would allow him to see once more. She had told him to get water, he remembered that faintly. "I-" he began, feeling nervous and upset, unable to form full thoughts aloud, "I-I'm blind."
The statement was a simple fact, but it was spoken as if a mournful cry, a burgeoning question or desire for what he lacked. He turned back to where he thought she rested, unable to truly tell in the cimmerian ink that was now his vision. He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. Lead me to the water he thought, filled with hopefulness and helplessness but unwilling to admit that he possessed either. At his feet, Manhattan whined.
Ophelia watched with deep sadness as the black pup could not rise from exhaustion, thirst or hunger - perhaps a combination of the three. The colt seemed to be in ill shape himself, and she felt his nose bury into her neck. She furrowed her brows at the oddness of that gesture, wondering if something was wrong with his eyes or if he was trying to tell her something in a subtle way. When she said that they needed water, she watched as he looked around with such disorientation and frowned.
Blind? That was a tragedy that tugged at her heart strings. She wondered what that would be like? Perhaps she would enjoy being blind, not being able to remember anything but darkness.
The crimson and white mare turned her body to stand next to his, her shoulders and hips bumping against his. She turned her face to brush her mane across his face. "Here," she said softly. "Grab a hold of my mane and I will lead you. I cannot carry Manhattan, but I am sure that she will follow." She murmured, waiting for him to orient himself.
"You are in the Dragon's Throat," she explained to him, glancing at the land before her. "The sand is rich and warm, and just ahead is a large oasis. You will be able to feel the sand give way to softer grass once we near the water's edge, and you will be able to graze there." Ophelia hoped that her dialogue was helping. Otherwise, she did not know what else to do for him.
"Who are you? How did you come here?" she asked him, concerned, taking him directly to the water's edge. "Do you smell that?" she asked with a soft smile. "Water. Go on and drink."
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
10-04-2012, 01:46 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2012, 01:47 PM by Knox.)
Young colt felt the brush of a near stranger's mane against his face, heard her urging him to take hold of her when he had never before taken hold of anyone. Trust was a foreign concept, one he held only between himself and his companion, and without an understanding of its depth. To take part in it so readily now was unfamiliar, and he was left with a sense of heavy hesitation.
But the thirst compelled him. His dried and cracked lips parted to take hold of what had become his salvation, and he took his first steps guided by another towards the pitch that was the oasis. He listened only as she spoke; he gave her no answer. She reassured him of the presence of his companion, but until she was beside him he could not rest.
She explained the water to him, mentioned its smell. Strange that he had never smelled it before, he thought. It rushed past, leaving spray across his twitching skin, filling in the gaps between the hairs of his thickening coat. He had lost the covering of a foal, yet regained it in the face of Frostfall. Frostfall- until then he had to live like this. It seemed impossible now that blindness overtook him. How foolish he had been to agree so readily to the task given to him by the gods.
He had heard once that his father had been blind. He remembered his first thought upon hearing of his father's condition: What sort of Sentinel couldn't see? To guard in darkness, to live in it; how could one grow powerful then? It was why he had journeyed to the gods for his magic in the first place- to learn how to live without sight as his father once had. He longed to learn from his father- longed to see him one day.
But now in the darkness he saw nothing. Perhaps it had been a foolish hope to think that the dead lived behind the eyes of the blind. Forlorn, his ears twitching madly to keep him grounded in sound, he bent to the surface of the water. It splattered his features, colder than he had ever expected it could be. Why had he never thought of water as so cold before? It had been sustenance he had taken for granted- but as he drank it now, let it sink into his senses and fill his form with strength, he could not understand how he ever would have thought it unimportant.
He felt Manhattan beside him breathing and bending to drink, and reassurance swept over him as he understood at once that his only love in this world was safe. He did not turn to face the mare now- he had long since dropped her mane and could no longer locate her. But into the darkness he parted dripping lips and spoke his gratitude.
"Thank you," came the simple words. Renewed now, he remembered her questions. Who was he- where was he from? Good questions. He was the son of the noble Sentinel and the wicked black widow, from blood and mental drills, from spoken commands and a twisted sense of family. He longed for something different now, an escape from all that cruelty that he was bred to believe was love. But without that, was he really anything?
"I am Knox," the colt murmured, his voice low, his head beginning to ache. "I... I am from nowhere. Not anymore."