"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.
Plans were made. Secrets kept. But regardless of any answers she had received from Hotaru or Deimos, she would inform Gaucho. In her heart she believed that the warrior stallion of the Dragon’s Throat and she shared a bond, an alliance that he would not break. Also, she trusted that Gaucho was not a friend to Midas any long - not after his angry words when they had last spoke. He must have been quite busy to not come and visit like he offered, but she did not hold this against him. Instead, she stole away under the cover of night and made the long journey south while others prepared for war. Archibald, Deimos and Torleik could coordinate, though she feared the outcome with that much testosterone all in one place. They may end up fighting with each other; the thought made her roll her eyes.
Males were a species all on their own - somewhat simple in their own way, full of heart, but they also, occasionally, had more pride than sense. All of her thoughts were jumbled this way as she loped south, breathing even and sides protesting at the effort. She did not have much time, and if she had to, she would meet them at the battle. Still, she wanted to be closer - just in case.
Ophelia reached the newly formed ocean’s edge, listening to the crashing waves against the rock and sand. The key hanging just below the star on her forehead dangled, and she frowned, shaking her head near the water and hoping to activate this bridge. Much to her surprise and pleasure, a lit structure materialized before her, and without hesitation, she ran across, trusting the Sun God implicitly not to drop her to her death in the water. Seconds later, her hooves touched the sand, looking around for Gaucho. What she had to say did not belong to any one else’s ears, and she would rather he find her than anyone else.
The pale princess moved inward, bihued eyes scanning the horizon for his familiar, muscular shape and flaming wings. Her own body sparkled like diamonds, glowing, and she huffed as the sun began to come to life on the horizon. The Throat was hot enough already… ”Gaucho…” she breathed, shifting her weight and searching. ”I don’t have much time.”
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.
As early morning swept across the sands, Gaucho stirred. His patrol would not begin for another few years, and yet his skin itched and his heart raced as if preparing for some great event. There was of course nothing interesting or noteworthy about this day, and yet in his bones, Gaucho couldn’t shake a sense of urgency that was beginning to cloud his thoughts. Perhaps he would run … or fly. He would give his heart a reason to race, and when all was said and done and his flanks were covered in sweat, perhaps then his mind would be at ease.
Nostrils flaring, the Wildfire turned away from all of the construction projects that the Throat had started this season, and ran.
Long blackened legs extended easily across the bloody sands, almost entirely unbothered by the way the reddish granules dispersed under his dark hooves. Many struggled with the dunes in a way Gaucho no longer did. It was almost an artform to learn to run on the sand, to condition oneself in such a way as to run over them, rather than constantly sinking into them. Gaucho’s fiery wings extended gently from his sides as he galloped. THey only moved slightly, allowing him to literally glide across the terrain unburdened. His hooves pounded the ground almost soundlessly as he raced unknowingly towards Ophelia.
She was like a diamond hidden in the sands; the sparkle of her coat so distinctly different from the amber sparkle of everything else here. As she came into view, Gaucho nearly balked and halted his run. Some part of him thought it would be strange or perhaps embarrassing for Ophelia to see him in this state, yet his mind could not justify why that would be. And so, he continued. Charging towards her, like a warrior to his enemy, Gaucho’s well-marked and well-muscled body drew near. The Wildfire folded his wings against his flanks, no longer needing to glide as his hooves pulsed a shorter rhythm while his larger body came to a halt. So practiced in this was he, that he barely disturbed the sands around her as he walked the final few steps.
Briefly he considered making what was now a fairly worn joke, about how Ophelia never gave him the chance to come North, but thought better of it. Rarely did Ophelia come to the Throat for social reasons.
"Ophelia." He greeted, his voice rich but broken up as he continued to try and catch his breath. There was much that he might tell her - about the construction projects happening in the Throat, Sohalia’s return and her pregnancy … Was the armor Bucephalus had created for the unicorns complete? He didn’t know. In truth, he was going to use it as an excuse to visit her Northern Palace, but he had expected to make that trip for at least another week or so. Yet he stayed quiet, dark ears forward and alert.
Gaucho the Wildfire
If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
Gaucho’s body thundered through the sand, muscles churning hard against a ground wanting to pull him asunder, and a memory of her father snapped to the forefront of her mind. Paladin would run the entire expanse of the Tides, hooves crashing through the sand and body shimmering with sweat as he worked. He was relentless, the exercise a daily routine that she could not remember him ever breaking. Ophelia blinked, trying to get rid of the thoughts of her father and the complicated emotions that he brought with him. Fiery wings helped her make the distinction, and she watched as he approached, feeling the itch to move grip her tightly.
She did not have much time.
Serious, two-colored eyes watched as he approached, grateful that he did not distress the dust around them. After her spar with Maren, she very much did not want to inhale more sand and spend the next few days dispelling it from her lungs with fits of coughing. She rested her weight from one hip to another, the normally unshaken pillar of impassivity uncharacteristically impatient. Nervousness settled in, wondering how honest she should be with Gaucho? He said that he had issues with Midas, but how far did those run? What transgressions would he allow in a crumbling friendship?
”I need to inform you of our plans because you are our ally, Gaucho, but I must warn you that if you disagree, I will have to erase what I tell you from your thoughts,” she murmured, frowning sadly. Would he appreciate the fair warning? Or would he be angry? ”The World’s Edge no longer wants to live beneath the frightening mists of the Moon Goddess, especially with her presence looming there like a knife in the dark. Archibald spoke to me about this, and he asked for our help to invade the Hidden Falls,” she said clearly.
”Given that Midas has made a personal enemy out of me, has been cruelly prejudiced against those in the Aurora Basin, we agreed wholeheartedly to help. But if you fight against us, I am not sure we could emerge successful.” Ophelia frown, sympathetic and aware that what she was going to ask would be difficult. ”Though I realize what I am asking you is great, will you and the Dragon’s Throat stand down during our attack and allow the Aurora Basin and World’s Edge to invade unimpeded?” she asked openly, taking a deep breath.
”I haven’t much time, unfortunately. Everything is in motion, and I stole away to ensure that you were aware. Gaucho, if you do this for us, I will repay the favor. Ask, and I will do my best to ensure that what you want is done.”
Ophelia rarely ever resorted to begging, but this offer was sincere. This was as close as she would get, as desperate as she would ever be for his help now. The pale princess waited on bated breath for his response, hoping beyond hope that she would not have to erase this moment from his mind.
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.
He might have said more, if the urgency in her voice had not completely barred further conversation. When it came to matters of war, Gaucho was one of the few who could be consistently counted on to keep himself in check. Although the thought that Ophelia would try and threaten him with her magic, made his bones itch desiring a physical reply. But that was only a matter of pride, and the rest of what Ophelia would say would be so much more important.
Besides, Gaucho was clever enough to know that either he would hear her words and be left with no memory of them, or agree to them. There seemed to be nothing to lose in simply hearing her out. Not to mention the thought of making her work to catch him and ensnare him in her powers was more than a little thrilling.
”Gaucho listen.”
And listen he did.
The Wildfire was mildly surprised that the conversation and threat of Invasion had nothing to do with Confutatis. He supposed one annoying presence wasn’t enough to spurn both the World’s Edge and the Basin into action, but it had been all he and Ophelia had really talked about. That Midas had caused such a stir … well, given their last meeting, perhaps it was not something Gaucho should be so surprised of. Midas had changed. Somewhere in the hidden falls and raging waterfalls was his old comrade, but he had not seen him in a long time. He had forgone his speech, his family, and his values. Midas the Gallent, had foresaken his real family that day on the Island, insteading preferring to mourn a son that wasn’t even his. Was the Earth God really so important to him, that he would shed more tears over the Earthen child, than the pain felt by his blood? Snorting, Gaucho shook these thoughts from his mind.
Gaucho regarded Ophelia solemnly for a moment. Her haste was obvious, but given the gravity of what she was asking Gaucho selfishly took a moment to consider her beauty. She might have appeared shaken to some - anxious and unsettled, but Gaucho saw through all of this. Instead he saw the blood that once matted her coat, her bruises and how her muscles had twitched when she walked with her head held high nonetheless. He saw a righteousness and a hardness. Ophelia was like a blood red rose - beautiful and delicate in appearance - but Gaucho was not fooled. He had encountered her thorns on more than a few occasions. Forcing this image of her, Ophelia, on the cusp of war, into the background of his thoughts forever, the Wildfire nodded.
Part of him was disappointed that she had not asked for even a handful of his warriors. If not himself, Hector, Meg, Einarr … Ampere, Cirrus. All would be happy to aid. Biting his tongue, he remained silent on this point, keeping his disappointment to himself.
”When Gaucho go see Midas, Gaucho tell him that Throat not sell-swords. Gaucho tell Midas that we not come simply because he call. We fight for wars that are just. Gaucho make peace with Basin. Midas could do the same.” His words were indifferent. Setting his personal grievances with Midas aside, the facts were clear. Midas had remained hostile towards the Basin
The Wildfire spread his flaming wings from his flanks, like arms with open palms drifting away from his sides. She had asked them to stay, and stay they would.
”Throat crafters have been very busy this season. We make gifts of strength for Basin and Edge … maybe these gifts show up at your doorstep.” Gaucho rumbled with an ambiguous smile. Although he would have liked to give the armor crafted for the unicorns to Ophelia now, it would slow her voyage home and likely draw far too much attention. He would send his sons perhaps, or Meg and Einarr.
As for the boon she offered, Gaucho made no mention. He was sure he didn’t have to. Ophelia was not a mare who forgot her promises.
Gaucho the Wildfire
If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
Having never considered herself to be physically attractive, she did not assume that Gaucho would be looking at her in any other way but neutral. She did not have the feminine curves of Sohalia nor the high-set, flashing tails of other mares. Her vibrant eyes were cursed being two shades, odd and unsettling. In fact, for being delicately featured in the face, her body was long and genderless, possessing just enough muscle to be a male reaching puberty or a female athlete. Every glance in a mirrored pool at her reflection reaffirmed her understanding that she was not beautiful - just… odd.
So as he stared, she furrowed her brows tightly over her face, wondering what he was looking at. Was he trying to reconcile his friendship with Midas? Was this a moment of inner turmoil? The thought of him ever being in any sort of emotional quandary made her smile; he was too strong and too steadfast for such trivial thoughts to ever overtake his rationale. Perhaps this was why she liked him so much. She could trust him to give her an honest answer, untainted by personal bias and emotional dislike. Unlike her… she thought bitterly, remembering the untamed violence she felt from her sister’s memories.
Oh, she still wanted to kill Midas for hurting her sister, and she openly admitted that the the emotion was irrational. That did not halt her bloodlust in the least.
Her thoughts darkened, flashing to the murder of Midas’ child. What would he think when his own child died? Would he then understand the transgressions he performed against Ktulu? Would his tear-stained cheek meet the ground and knees fall upon the earth, heartbroken, as he realized how foolish he truly was?
Honestly, she did not think so. Many evenings alone had she spent thinking about Midas and why he was the way he was, and her only conclusion was that he was the most selfish being she would ever meet. Polite in some ways, but selfish. How else could he be so blind to his own actions? How else could he be so thoughtless to the pains and needs of others? Midas always seemed confused when hatred was thrown his way, too arrogant and caught up in his own world to see beyond the haze of his own desires.
As a creature who had given so much of herself that emptiness and numbness followed, she hated Midas for this - even if he did not realize his own sins.
Yes, this was personal.
”Midas had every chance to do the same,” she said coolly. ”Illynx offered. He refused. I just ask that you do your best not to alert them of our plans. For my sister’s sake and for my friends in the Edge, I want this to go as smoothly as possible.” Ktulu was her blood. She was her link to reality. Everything. There was nothing she would not do for her twin, even if that task brought her to the gates of death. Nothing else in the world would ever make as much sense as this one, pure emotion shining brightly in the shadows of her dimmed heart.
Ophelia did not understand why he would so freely give them gifts, but his smile was infectious, and she could not help but smile in return. ”You have already given so much, but I know better than to argue when your mind is set.” She bowed her head deeply, a sign of utmost respect. ”We will accept them gratefully, and I will ask our crafters to do the same.” His outstretched wings flamed, giving her hope that he would do what he said.
”Thank you, Gaucho. I must go now.” Ophelia, not one for physical gestures, reached forward and placed an awkward, chaste press of her lips against the side of his neck. Clearing her throat, she turned, waiting for the bridge to appear before racing out of the Dragon’s Throat, the northern mountains of her home chanting for her return.
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.
For a moment Gaucho let his mind consider how differently this conversation might have gone if it was anyone other than he in charge. What if Tandavi was here? Sohalia? Ampere? Would they accept Ophelia’s stark statements with stoicism and understanding? He very much doubted it. He could almost hear Tandavi’s boastful screams of righteousness and Ampere’s flashy anger. Sohalia would likely look to him, or suggest a more democratic solution. Gaucho would not pass judgement on what way would be best, only that he saw merit in his way of dealing with things. And he very much doubted when it came to an actual war that any would question his judgement.
But even so, perhaps he would wait to tell them.
”Gaucho not say anything. Throat is busy with projects … warriors have created an arena here to fight in. More than enough reasons to stay at home and not go looking for trouble…” Again part of him wished that they had been invited into this battle, but still he remained silent. It would likely be hard enough for Midas to understand why the Throat remained silent on their island, much less why his former sand-kin were fighting against him.
As Ophelia’s head bowed, in acceptance of his gifts, the Wildfire smiled. As the Throat grew stronger, benefitting from the divine blessings of their deity, he would pass along those offerings in whatever way he could. Part of him wondered what the Sun God would think, to see the Basin wearing armor with his sigul on it. The thought only increased his smile.
As Ophelia’s touch graced his neck, the fire on Gaucho’s wings flared high and bright for a moment. The two had only ever been physical once before - and two lives had nearly ended that day. Since then, Gaucho had envisioned on more than one occasion what it would be like to have Ophelia this close, although the circumstances of that intimacy had changed several times. He had wanted to crush her beneath her hooves and feel the heat of her body as it rallied against his own. Other times he had wanted to feel her against him in a much more primal way. Her touch now, with the thought of her bloody-soaked mane and battered body so fresh in his mind - the emblems of a true warrior - sent a chill through his spine. Gaucho’s dark bone-pierced muzzle turned in to brush against her pale skin, which for the first time he noticed was black underneath. How fitting of her.
”Shieraki gori ha yeraan.” He offered. Although the phrase would be foreign to her, it was the only thing truly fitting to say. It was what was said in his homeland when any would ride into a battle. He would not tell her to be safe or to fight hard. Such words held no meaning. If Ophelia was to die in this, he would not wish anything but the most pure of deaths for her. ”Means …” Mentally he prodded Mara, asking his older companion to help translate the imagery that accompanied the words. ”Means the heavens and stars go with you in battle.”
Nodding, the Wildfire watched the Foresaken leave. A white smear on a bridge of fire.
Gaucho the Wildfire
If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
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