"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.
Everyone seemed so damn grouchy lately. Okay, it was hot as Satan’s asscrack, but that didn’t mean everyone had to be so fucking boring…
Kipling’s parents had hated the hotter months, too. It was one of many proclivities they failed to pass on to their bizarre offspring. The nomadic outcasts slept through the day and wandered through the less punishing night, leaving their colt more starved for attention than usual. Tallsun had been the season when Kipling learned to entertain himself. He began his own private explorations, sneaking off with sweat beading along the harsh lines of his ruddy adolescent coat. He delighted in the discovery of fresh pools and streams, relieving himself from the oppressive heat and stalking the flitting schools of freshwater fish. He was accustomed to solitude this time of year.
But Helovia was supposed to be different. These residents were nothing like Kipling’s parents the rest of the year – they were fun, and they had exciting talking turtles and ascended immortals and dragons and all kinds of crazy shit. They weren’t supposed to suddenly turn into dullards because of a little heat.
Alas. The colt’s entreaties for fellow adventurers went unanswered, and he found himself spending Tallsun days as he always had: alone in his explorations.
The land had grown familiar to him since his Frostfall arrival, and his travels were proportionally quicker. Kipling set off from the Falls after lunch when everyone seemed to be settling in for their afternoon siesta. Today, he had hung north and followed the thinning trees to the sandy expanse he had only ever seen from a distance on clear days. The wooded foothills yielded slowly to the shore, and the late afternoon sun was starting to sink when the rolling seas came into sight.
The Endless Blue was unlike anything Kipling had ever seen before. The water moved like the surface of a lake disturbed by wind, but with incomprehensible, rhythmic violence. More than anything, though, the colt was stunned by just how much of it there was. Water stretched before him as far as he could see, to a horizon that looked impossibly distant even to him – a unicorn who had never believed in “impossible”.
Giddyness overwhelmed him. Kipling flung himself forward from the clutching sand, racing for the sparkling sea and showing off his only notable physical attribute: his tremendous speed. The hot sun, unobstructed by clouds, drew a foamy lather to his coat and superheated his metallic horn in the short moments it took him to reach the water. Kipling bolted straight into the waves with a mighty splash, grinning wildly. By the time the deeper waters slowed his momentum, the Thoroughbred was chest deep in the waves and forced to paddle to stay above the swells as they rolled in. He was oblivious to any danger: the sea was the most perfect temperature he could ever imagine, and it felt grand as it saturated his slick, sweaty hide.
Kipling lolled about in the waves a while, letting them drag him back towards the shore with their great force. When he was near the beach again, he dipped his head for a drink and quickly spat the brine back out, spattering, “Yuck!” As he flicked his tongue and tried to rid it of the unpleasant taste, however, something caught his eye tumbling ashore with the next round of waves. Nasty attempt at refreshment forgotten, Kipling hurried over towards whatever it was.
It appeared to be a medium-sized wicker sack with short dual straps, and it bulged with unknown contents. Carefully, Kipling poked his horn through the straps and dragged it ashore, wet sand sticking to both the object and himself. Once he got it to dry land, he began to prod at it curiously. “Hello? Anyone in there?” This is when a more self-conscious horse would look around to make sure no one had overheard him talking to a bag. Kipling only continued to stare at it expectantly, stepping back and tilting his head every few seconds.
OOC: OPEN to everyone. I'm tagging the folks who replied to my pre-absence plotting post about this, but I know it's been a while so no worries if you can't do it anymore (and if you want to do it but didn't answer that post, please jump in!). =)
@[Elsa] @[Kvothe] @[Cheska] @[Leeka]
02-18-2015, 01:31 PM (This post was last modified: 03-04-2015, 12:55 PM by Cheska.)
C H E S K A
Cheska stood knee deep in the waves, letting the errant breaker crash against her chest. She turned her head skyward, the sun warming her face and toasting her coal black nose. The gentle spray lifted the tangled waves of her mane and seagrass snared in her tail. No matter how many times she returned here, the mother ocean was always as welcoming as she was fierce. Cheska would never grow weary of the sounds and smells or her, nor the deep, perpetual blueness.
The breeze off the ocean was the only relief in the middle of the day. The sun had quickly turned from warm to oppressive in even the early days of the season and it had remained so until dusk brought the slightest relief. Heat had turned the landscape into a shimmering mirage and standing water into cesspools. The mare had never had much mind for the temperature. She wouldn't let something so trivial interfere with her explorations, her engagements, or her three square meals. These were things more important than her trifling comfort.
The lacings of white along her back managed to reflect enough heat to avoid burns as long as she was quick to return to the shade. For now, she took advantage. She'd abandoned her little outcropping under a mercifully cool rock to soak her feet and wash the sand from her hide. The trials for the Earth God had left her hooves aching, but her heart full. She'd been left with hundreds of little golden threads, names and faces and stories that would be woven over the coming weeks into something worth passing on.
She'd been quick once the boat landed to make a return trip to ensure that one of her most favorite places had survived the flood. That it had left her both relieved and giddy. Trees seemed untouched, waves rolled uninterrupted. Even the rocks had maintained vigil at their posts. She'd have nothing but good news to report back to Auriel when their paths crossed next.
Her musing kept her distracted from others who'd come to the relief of the ocean. She was so lost to her thoughts that it took a long moment to notice the thrashing not so far away. She heard, more than saw the massive splash as he broke into the ocean. She assured herself it was just another foal playing, but soon a coppery chestnut body was rolling though the waves. Her anxiety grew each time he disappeared from sight, bobbing out of her vision. Oh, you have chosen the wrong day to drown, m'dear. She wasn't winning any swimming awards any time soon, so she headed back toward the beach. She'd only check, she assured herself, everything was fine.
She reared in the water, twisting around to let the waves carry her back to the beach. Quick enough, she was cantering down the shoreline to close the distance, watching as he spat out water. Oh, he really was drowning. Nerves sent her into a dead gallop and she devoured the distance remaining in a few strides. She tried to recall how one would extract water from lungs, but without the magic to move it, she had no ideas. All she had was an alert.
The magic exploded out of her, still raw and rather untrained. A bird, dark as pitch and roiling like black water, soared into the sky above her head. It circled once, and then exploded into a burst of smoky darkness. If that doesn't get somebody's attention I don't know what will. She came sliding to a stop a few yards from him and noticed with something resembling disappointment that he was not, in fact, dying. Too hot to be savin lives anyway.
She approached as he was appraising his bag. Curiosity swallowed her remaining nerves and left her limbs still once more. "Hey… What'd you find there?" She was careful not to intrude. Some folks were terribly possessive of their trinkets. Instead, she cocked her head from a distance and waited.
How to capture Kipling’s attention when he is otherwise occupied: Send a damn exploding shadow bird into the sky. The auburn stallion gaped up into the wild blue yonder, more astonished than afraid, and whickered a confused, throaty noise; the gutteral utterance was exactly what a question mark would have sounded like. His nostrils flared in sharp thoughtfulness and he snorted a loud, blowing exhale. Even the noise of someone’s hasty approach did little to break his stupor. He flicked an ear in their direction in almost subconscious recognition, but he only adjusted his gaze when he finally noticed the rhythm of hoofbeats change from frantic gallop to solid halt.
Kipling unwound his neck and brought his head down with difficulty, reluctantly leveling his sightline and bringing a sturdy bay roan into focus. It had not taken much to make him forget the salvaged bag that had enchanted him just a few short moments before. It had not immediately revealed its secrets to him, and so it had fallen to second place on the list of things Kipling wants to talk about right now. “Oh… Never mind that. I dunno how to open it. Try again later.” He grunted with a dismissive wave of his horn, then continued, “But did you see that bird thing?!” He jogged excitedly in place, letting his eyes return to the task of scanning the sky. “It was like it just disappeared! Into thin air! It was there and then it was GONE. You did see it, didn’t you? COME BACK, BIRDY!”
His animated jogging shifted the sand that had piled around the bag, revealing the end that had initially been strapped shut. Apparently he had done a better job prying it open with his horn than he realized. Kipling had not noticed that the strap had been unhooked by his uneducated prodding. Now, a couple small wooden apendages – no bigger than a newborn foal’s hoof - protruded subtly from the wide opening: one light wing spread wide as in flight, and a darker cloven-hooved leg. The stallion was too distracted by his search for the mystery bird to realize any of this.
"Isn't it too hot for you?" He asked without wavering from his skyward visual search. "Everyone else thinks it's too hot. I don't think it's too hot. I think they're being boring..."
03-04-2015, 12:59 PM (This post was last modified: 03-04-2015, 01:01 PM by Cheska.)
C H E S K A
Again, her head slanted off at an angle, odd jade eyes examining the tall stallion and his bag of unrevealed mysteries. Perhaps it was full of seaweed or maybe bags washing up out of the ocean were where all the goddamned zephyrs around her came from. It could be full of spiders. Hell if she'd know. Everything in Helovia was mysterious to her.
Cheska was distracted easily by the pleasantly surprising reaction, and soon that familiar smile of mischief was tugging at her. "What bird thing? You mean... this bird thing?" With a stomp of her forehoof, the shadows around her seemed to multiply, rolling and spinning into an avian shape that took flight around them with a single flap of its eerily silent wings. It spiraled upward above them, making wide, lazy circles. "Watch this," she murmured. She squinted hard at the intangible bird before her merest whim split the creature into three smaller songbirds. They flew ever higher, weaving and rolling until they burst into little puffs of smoke. She smirked at him, her eyes dancing. Maybe it was vanity, or maybe she finally appreciated feeling special for once in her life. After all, the stories that she crafted so easily hardly belonged to her. They were made to be shared. This was hers alone, and if she wished hard enough, it almost made her more than ordinary.
Laughing, the mare turned her large head and stubby ears back to the not-dead stallion. "They're my storytelling friends," she volunteered cheerfully, tail keeping a pendulum rhythm.
Isn't it too hot? Cheska blinked at him. "There's no such thing," she announced simply. She felt a sort of odd companionship with him. They were both too stupid or reckless to stay in the shade and she liked that about them. So when she continued, her voice was laced with conspiracy. "It either is hot or it isn't. There're just folks who are too boring to go out in it. I myself... I never let the weather interfere with an adventure." As if she wasn't just complaining about it herself.
In swaying her head around, she caught sight of the open flap just over his shoulder. "Speaking of which... it's not full of spiders, is it?" She stretched her neck toward it, ears pinned back half in curiosity, half to keep out any wayward arachnids.
OOC] I'm so sorry for the wait! I just left this in my drafts and it totally slipped my mind!
Connecting the dots had never been Kipling's greatest strength. Nonetheless, even the obtuse stallion had to understand the link between "Watch this," and the bird's re-emergence from the shadows that surrounded the roan mare. His jaw slackened and he cocked his head in wonder, inhaling a deep, heady breath. As the bird divided itself in three, Kipling sighed a single, quietly impressed, "Wow…"
Hesitantly, Kipling tapped his own white stockinged front hoof to the ground as if to prod his shadow into animation. The shadow remained unmoved, stubborn and still atop the damp sand. He squinted, unconvinced, and instead tried to poke the mare's shadow. When this, too, failed to elicit a satisfying response, he decided to accept her explanation at face value. "They seem like lovely friends," He offered genuinely, nodding his cumbersome head in appreciation.
Her answer to his (ever so slightly petulant) question obviously delighted him. Kipling grinned broadly, his bronze eyes twinkling with glee. "Excellent - exactly! Me either. Besides, the boring ones didn't get to meet your friends. I like you. I'm Kipling."
His attention successfully redirected to the bag, Kipling sidled alongside her and joined the examination. "Hey, spiders can be friends, too," He deadpanned, perfectly straddling the line between expressing humor or actual offense. His long, twisted horn again proved useful: he slipped it under the top flap and flipped it down so that it was finally fully open. "Doesn't look like anything sinister…" He mused, though his voice had quieted to a more somber tone, as if he was having second thoughts about whether he should have been so flippant about the whole spider thing.
Well. It hasn't attacked me yet. Steeling his resolve, Kipling closed his teeth around the base of the bag and carefully inverted it a few inches above the sand. Out fell three figurines of varying wooden stains: an almost-black ebony, a rich chocolate mahogany, and a creamy pale pine. Each was no bigger than a newborn foal's hoof. Kipling was immediately drawn to the mahogany statuette which took the shape of a turtle. "Oh! Look! It's like the giving turtle from the cloud place!" He prodded it upright onto four short, sturdy legs, smiling thoughtfully at its simply carved face. The dark stag lay on its side, with an intricate but fragile-looking rack half-buried in the sand; the lightest hawk had landed top-side up with flat, outstretched wings.
Kipling paused from his investigation to look again at the mare. "I think he sent them." He had no particular reason to believe this - only a gut feeling - but he liked the idea of the magic turtle planting the bag in the surf for them to discover. It struck Kipling like something the odd reptile would do. "Can I keep them?" Why he needed the mare's permission to try to keep the little statues was anyone's guess. The question had popped into his mind and escaped unfiltered before he could consider it more carefully. So now, he watched her, and he waited.
I like you. I'm Kipling. She was disarmed, and unusually so, by his simplicity. For a split second, she was reminded of how she'd made her first friends as a filly, when all that was required was mutual appreciation and a verbal agreement and instantly strangers became the best of friends. How many days had she whiled away with a foal who would be gone by sundown? She'd forgotten that it could still be just that easy. At the realization, a musical whinny of laughter came rolling up from her chest. "Cheska," she replied plainly, laughter still dancing behind her eyes. "And I happen to like you, too."
It wasn't difficult to, given that she found conversation coming more easily than usual. It was an odd thing for her to find ease in the company of a stallion. Small miracles, and all that. Still, all the talk of spiders had her tail twitching something fierce.
"Friends? Maybe. But they're not terribly good conversationalists, spiders. And I've tried," she noted firmly, casting a skeptical glance back at the bag. Doesn't look like anything sinister... "That's just what they want ya to think," she murmured furtively, pretending to be joking. Her front hoof turned up a bit of sand anxiously, watching as he maneuvered the bag.
She spooked backwards as three small, dark things came tumbling out. "Heavens to Betsy!" She kept the gentle swear under her breath, and luckily so. What tumbled out were most definitely not spiders. Rather, they looked like... Well, nothing she'd ever seen before. She glanced sidelong at him to see how thoroughly she'd embarrassed herself, getting up in arms over some inanimate chunks of wood.
She didn't bother trying to decipher what on earth the "turtle from the cloud place" was. She'd learned quickly here that she was always going to have more questions than answers. Maybe there really had been a magical turtle from a mystical cloud palace. There's a story in there for sure, old girl! But she tucked her ponderings away for another time. For now, she simply blinked at her cheerful companion and answered the question.
"Well, I sure didn't go divin into the ocean to save em. And I don't see anybody round here lookin for them. I'd say they're as good as yours."
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