"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.
She was in a foul mood, the heat slicking her ivory sides and causing slate grey feathers to cling to her thick limbs as if their lives depended on it. She was slow in her pacing, but there was a fire in her eyes as she was determined to get this up and over with. It had been made clear to her that by the end of this wretched season she would need to sharpen her fighting skills, to prove she was a worthy warrior. So here she was, standing in the middle of some meadow somewhere, surrounded by thistles that pricked her hide and swept her deeper into a whirlwind of annoyance and tiredness. Shutting steel eyes she took in a deep breath, letting the summer heat fill her nares and large lungs, before releasing it out in an aggravated huff, reopening her gaze to look out around her in search of an opponent. Surely someone else was in the mood to fight; she couldn't be the only one in need of filling a quota. Besides that, her hooves itched to pound into someone's side, to tussle with someone who could handle her massive weight and larger build, even if she wasn't as tall as some of the other equines here.
She longed to get her adrenaline pumping, to get her heart racing and for more sweat to pour down her coat, just for the sake of feeling something besides the intense emotions that often plagued her in the lonely hours of the night. She had to stop herself, arching her neck and tossing her head briefly, clicking her teeth together as it to chide herself for letting her mind get carried away. Now was not the time to look back at her inner demons, or to reflect on all the things she didn't have. She had come here for a mission, one she had every intention of completing whether or not she came out on top. She wasn't doing this for her per say, but simply just to get everyone off her ass about it in the first place. Though the entire experience would most likely be thrilling to her, it still was not enough motivation for her to actively seek out a fight. That's where the added push from her herd came in. Oh well, anything to get them to shut up.
"Speech"
Text Thought
{WC: 395
Tag: @[Bucephalus]
OOC: Setting: Thistle Meadow; blistering hot day. Thistles are abundant and obnoxious to deal with.
Forgive the crap post, standard sparring rules apply.}
When the bugles sound, I will fight beside you until we can no longer fight.
He had only fought with two people; Cirrus and Gaucho. Both had outclassed him, and it made the black grind his teeth in frustration. He wanted to be at least a challenge, if not a serious threat, for those who he would fight against, be taken seriously as a force to be wary of in battle. It would take time, he knew this, it would take time and many spars, but damn if it wouldn't be worth it. He wanted The Morningstar to be a name associated with a stallion both clever-tongued and a ferocious fighter. One to not be taken lightly, one to fear crossing, and one who would be known to lay everything on the line to protect his desert family.
That determination was what drove him from the sands, to seek a stranger to spar. He wanted a fresh face, someone he had mere seconds to analyze and pick apart before their bodies clashed. It would be a thrill to his body, a challenge to his mind and a fire to stoke the embers in his soul.
And in the Thistle Meadow, he found the one to aid in his slow journey to the ranks of a warrior. She was far more heavy-set than him, and looked as ready for a fight as he was. However the place she chose... He would not have recommended it. Thistles clung to the long strands of his mane and tail, to the soft feathering around his hocks, and no matter how hard he tossed his head or stomped his feet they would not go away. It served to heighten his agitation, his ears already pinned flat against his skull as he approached the snowy mare, golden eyes aflame with a passion barely contained by the thinnest threads of civility.
"Someone certainly looks happy. Care to do something about it?" He spoke, neck arching and he stood, tail lashing his flanks with impatience, the irritating pricks of the thistles that had collected in the dual-colored hairs increasing his agitation to the point he was starting to rock in place. His body cried out for action, to take out this annoyance upon the mare, to clash with one closer to his own area of power, to emerge victorious and a step closer to his goal.
Around his neck his pendant hung heavy, the metal cool against a dark hide that felt as if it was being set aflame. It was ready to be used, to be tested in it's virgin voyage, to serve it's bearer and aid in either victory or defeat. With a silent word, the black metal expanded, flowing across the Morningstar's lithe form, weight settling upon him. It was a familiar weight now, for he had practiced with the metal upon his body in the desert of his home, and now it was time for it to fulfill it's purpose.
Bucephalus was ready for battle, every muscle and tendon singing as they coiled themselves, the tension practically physical in the air around the black stallion. He was the Morningstar; he would climb, become a name to be feared and respected by all. This mare would be the start.
She would become the foundation of his reputation, or it's wrecking ball.
WC: 541 according to wordcounter.net
Summary: Bucephalus arrives in the Thistle Meadow to see December. He asks if she's willing to fight, then activates his armor.
Attack: 0/3
Tag: @[December]
There in the distance, a prayer answered; if she had prayed at all. Laced in gold with wings adorning his back, the brute made his approach, clearly not pleased with the thistles as well. They left her skin irritated, mouth longing to rip them from their places nestled into her coat to relieve the itch that plagued her mind. There wasn't time for that now; it was time to kick some ass. He had come looking for a fight, and it was fight she was going to give. In his eyes she could see it; the burning passion to thrust themselves into the throes of battle, to tear at each other's flesh and sink hooves into delicate muscles, and that thought excited her a little, made her want to just charge him now and tear at one of those gaudy wings on his back. He was a little feminine, gold spots accenting his inky form, and unlike her thicker stature he was more lithe, shorter than she but mostly likely a lot faster. It didn't matter; she had sheer force on her side, able to plow through quite a lot before she tired. She would have to test just how far she could go on this poor guy.
His words seemed to be mocking, at least that's how she took them in this sweltering day where her body was tired of the heat and her patience was nonexistent. Snorting, a glare gleamed in her eyes, smoky lips pulling back to reveal her white chompers, snarling in her lower tone with a sudden ferocity, "Fight me bro." She had heard someone else say that once, but it had sounded much cooler falling from their lips than her own. From her it sounded awkward, like she was an older adult trying to be hip with all the younger generations, so desperate to fit in despite her obviously being dated. Well, she wouldn't be saying that again. Suddenly that pretty little necklace around his neck she assumed to just be a meaningless accessory began to grow, engulfing him in dark metal and shielding his body, leaving very little of him available for her to rip into. How annoying. The guy couldn't even fight without some sort of protection, and it was quite the protection. Horns stuck out the top of the helmet, and scale-like pieces overlapped each other; providing a tougher skin than his own. Not to mention more armor over his knees and hocks.
The visual reminded her of a mother sending her child out on a skateboard with bubble wrap all over them. Snorting, she rethought her battle plan briefly. Looking him over for any available spots of weakness, she searched for anything that she could injure without hurting herself. Suddenly she burst forward, muscles rippling beneath her large haunches as she lurched in his direction, teeth still bared and jaws parting in an attempt to close down on flesh. She had aimed for his right ear, curving her body to the right as she did so but keeping her skull close, stretching her neck out as far as she could so that she might happen to clamp down on the appendage. She only hoped that she wouldn't scrape against that armor of his. Should she hit, she would try and tug, not hard enough to rip the thing off mind you, but to make sure that fucker was sore for the next few days.
She continued to run past him, carrying herself a few feet away and turning, making sure he was never out of sight; never in a blind spot should he try something funny. He may be smaller, and most likely a little more fragile, his build gave him flexibility and speed, something she was never quite good at. He was the hare, and she the tortoise, but everyone knew who won in that fable. She lowered her head defensively, dials buried in an abundance of tangled mane, and teeth still bared, her limbs slightly splayed so she was planted firmly on the ground, ready to bear any hit he might give. She would be prepared, no matter what he threw her way, she would take it head on and throw him to the ground like the little scrap he was. She may not be very experienced in the ways of fighting, but she was certainly confident in her own strength, knowing just how much she could handle, and what sent her past her breaking point. This man, whoever he was, certainly wasn't going to be pushing any limits today.
"Speech"
Text Thought
{WC: 762 according to Microsoft Word 2007
Tag: @[Bucephalus]
OOC: Summary: Sizes Buce up and checks out his armor, before charging him on the right side and trying to bite and tear at his right ear. She tried to keep her body far away but her head close by stretching her neck while she ran past him. She turned around behind him and planted her feet in the ground to prepare for his attack. }
There's something just magical about flight. Period.
-Graham Hawkes
She greets him with teeth bared, with fire in her eyes and acceptance falling from her lips with all the ferocity of a hunting cat ready to tear shit up. However she seemed to take pause at the arrival of the Morningstar's armor, and he flashed her a toothy smirk. All was fair in love and in war. He could practically see her mind whirling, and it excited him all the more. Where would she attack? Could those broad hooves of hers crush his metal like foil? His blood was boiling, and impatiently he pawed the ground, gold eyes locked onto the draft mare.
And then, she charges, moving towards me with bared teeth, thistles trampled under her hooves. However the black stands his ground, watching the much thicker mare barrel towards his lithe body in a reckless dash, an all-too predictable frontal attack. The black was a tactician, a man of thought and strategy... and this was one that more often than not failed against opponents unless they were bulkier or slower.
She lunged, and with ease he pinned his ears back and ducked his head even as she thrusted her own out, her teeth snapping at the air where those ebony ears had once been. Seizing a chance Bucephalus jerks his head up, hopefully hitting her jaw with the plates across the back of his head and neck. Perhaps that would rattle her brains enough to realize charging from the front was a downright idiotic move, unless one had an ulterior tactic...which she did not seem to have.
As she runs past he twisted and lashed out with hind feet, hoping that the spikes on the back of his hocks meet their mark somewhere in her flesh. The black whirls with her once all four feet return to the earth, facing her, head low and neck arched, all three peaks of his armor's horns aimed at her. He did not move from his position, merely flash her a mocking grin and unfurled his right wing, sweeping it out in a mockery of a bow. The laughter, the scorn, is clear in his golden eyes and amused smirk, his anger and boiling spirit directed into a focus as sharp as a blade.
Yet he could not help but just grow more... infuriated. He had come here for fire! For the sound of hooves on flesh, screams in the summer air and blood dripping from wounds! Not for a bitch's lazy attempt at an attack! "This doesn't appear to be much of a 'fight'. Should I let you get a couple hits in to feel better? Poor lamb, can't even hit what's standing still right in front of her." His voice rings out, anger and mockery dripping from every word, every syllable.
He stamped a hoof again, pawing the earth in agitation. The thistles clung to his soft feathering, irritating and infuriating. "Have you ever even fought before? I've never seen anyone as slow as you, mind and body." He spat, standing his ground. She would come to him or they would stand as statues of battle within this meadow.
He would settle for nothing less than this mare hurtling herself to her own defeat.
OOC:
WC: 536 according to Wordcounter.net
Attack: 1/3
Summary: Bucephalus ducks his head to avoid her teeth getting his ear, yet as her head moves over where his ears would have been he jerks his head back, hoping to hit her jaw or face with the armor plates across his head and neck. Then as she moves past him he kicks out with his hind feet to try and hit her with the armored spikes on the back of his hind legs. Once his feet touch the earth he turns to face her, then taunts her and stands his ground, waiting for her to attack again.
Tag: @[December]
Other: Armor Ref Forgot to add this though don't know if it's needed XD
The feeling of gnashers clashing together was dissatisfying; a low growl erupting from her vocals at the fact she had missed her target. She would make him pay, but that had to wait because suddenly he was jerking up, daggers upon his helm aimed for her vulnerable neck and jaw. On instinct she recoiled, eyes widening in sudden surprise at the tactic, the sound of the metal whooshing past her causing her ears to ring. It had been inches from her, way too close of a call for her liking. As she was moving he was back again, lashing out with hind hooves in an attempt to mar her pure hide, only for air to be their landing point. She had felt the rush of them near her rump, could have reached out and touched the blades on his armor if she had dared, and this left adrenaline pumping through her aggressively. She would have to rethink; the armor had surprised her and caught her off guard, leaving her to foolishly charge. She hadn't learned any battle tactics, didn't know how they were supposed to fight because she had never saw the need to before now. Becoming a protector of her land had changed that, and now she contemplated if she had made the right decision. If this was what she had to endure, just for the sake of enduring and not for any purpose, then she might as well quit. She wasn't going to fucking waste her time unintentionally hurting herself when she could be doing much more important things.
She didn't have time to further think on this thought, before the dark horse was sweeping out a lavish wing, mocking her and shooting insults. Her ears flattened, neck arching and nostrils flaring in distaste at his audacity. He wasn't intimidating, just lucky he had fucking body armor. How cocky would he be if the clunky metal was no longer shielding delicate skin? Narrowing her eyes she pawed the earth, tossing her mane entangled with thistles that continued to swarm her fur, a low growl escaping her, "You wouldn't be acting so high and mighty with that armor off. Did mommy remind you to bring it after combing your hair? Or was it after you and she finished your pedicures?" Two could play the mocking game, and although December often found words to not be as of much use as actions, she couldn't help but love the satisfaction she felt when the words slipped from her fluidly. The man was feminine, and even his bulky costume couldn't hide that. They were at a standstill now, trying to figure out just who was going to go next. She assumed she would, because the louse didn't seem to have much courage behind that silver tongue of his. He was all bark and no bite, which only helped her in the long run.
Her eyes slowly moved around him, studying his areas of weakness; before working herself forward again. It took her time to get moving, the momentum of her build too large to shift so swiftly, but once it was going it could hit like a truck. Eyes gleamed with determination and she snarled, heading right for his right wing. Her teeth were out again; snapping hungrily as if she were ready to strike, but she had other thoughts in her head. As soon as she was equidistant to his shoulder; she abruptly turned, using massive skull as a battering ram in an attempt to shove right into his wing joint. She wasn't very familiar with the anatomy of the Pegasus, but she figured that if she gave his wing a good beating at the base, it would at least hinder flight if not anything worse. Head began to pull back from the momentum as she rotated herself on her front hooves, moving to the left where her hind hooves lashed out, attempting to get a good kick into his right flank despite the armor being in her way. As she did so thistles flew everywhere, littering her feathers and matte coat like a bunch of lavender polka dots on an ivory canvas. She would have to do a hell of a lot of grooming to get them all out.
"Speech"
Text Thought
{WC: 710 according to Microsoft Word
Tag: @[Bucephalus]
OOC: Attack 2/3 Summary: Barely dodged both of his attacks, and continued to face him. Finally moved forward and attempted to headbutt the base of his right wing, then rotated on her front hooves to kick her hind hooves into his right flank. }
There's something just magical about flight. Period.
-Graham Hawkes
Oh, such spice this one had! Her taunting only made him burst out laughing, shaking his head slightly. All was fair in love and war; he was the taunter, not one to be taunted. They had little, if any effect upon him, and thus he had no intentions of taking his armor off for a 'fair fight'. Please, the armor made the fight a bit more even. Perhaps.
"At least my dam taught me how to look presentable. I've seen diseased rats that look better than you. I pity your mother, she must have been such a horror it's a miracle you exist." Okay, now he was insulting, but it mattered little. His blood was boiling and he wanted her angry, to loose control and make her defeat inevitable.
She charged, teeth bared and his lips pulled back in a sneer. Was she to do the same tactic again? His neck muscles tensed, and he began to rear, intending to tear at her ear this time.
Then the mare did the unexpected, and her entire head came swinging at him like a wrecking ball. Had he not begun to rear it would have hit his wing, as it was her head slammed into his shoulder, pain thudding through his chest and ribs as the blow knocked him over, his legs sprawling out to keep his weighted bulk from crashing to the ground. However something in his left leg went 'pop', and the leg buckled beneath him as the mare whirled on her hooves. Seeing the oncoming danger the black tucked his rump and dropped his rear, feeling her hooves clip across the top of his hip, leaving a stinging pain that had his teeth grinding.
Quickly he swung his head, mimicking her earlier action in hopes of slashing his horns across her rear. Ignoring the pain in his body the Morningstar lunged to stand up, teeth bared. Quickly he limped away, exaggerating the severity of his limp. Oh, it hurt like a bitch, and the breath had been knocked out of him at the very least, but it was hard to draw air into his lungs. He took stock of his injuries, cataloguing them as he circled the mare.
His right shoulder was stiff, his right leg not quite obeying his commands, and something on his left leg continued to ache with a sharpness bordering on bad pain. Great. The bitch was going to PAY, pay for her insolence, pay for trying to cripple his wing.
With a roar he rocked back on his haunches then sprang at December, horns lowered and aimed towards her side. Yet at the last moment he jerked his head to the side, so instead of a chance at goring her it might slash at her. He didn't want the bitch dead... yet.
Attack: 2/3
Word Count: 468 according to wordcounter.net
Summary: December's head hits Bucephalus hard on the shoulder as he rears, bowling him over. He manages to catch himself before he can hit the ground, straining a muscle as he did so. Her kick grazes across his rump, and from his position kneeling he swings his head at her, hoping to hit her rear. Then he gets to his feet, exaggerating his limp as he moves away a bit to take stock of his injures before launching himself at her, intending to slash the horns of his armor across her side.
Tag: @[December]
Notes: So so sorry this took forever, I know you wanted a quick spar x3
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