"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 an unceasing, enduring blade, sprinting in a malicious, vicious, unrepentant haze, drowned and drenched in the searing, abhorrent fusion of loathing, contempt, and outright panic. Her fox tails whipped behind her in a blue-tipped cataclysm, brandishing, branching, and brutally seizing snow and frost beneath her claws, entangled in the embroiled fervor of a ferocious beast, too lacquered, too enameled, with bloodlust to do anything but rage, fume, and seethe. How dare they the Lilliputian monster declared, raw and rancorous, driving endless persistence amidst the newfound rime, traipsing closer and closer to her destination as she grew ever more incensed, stoked the finer columns and sentiments of her malevolence. How could they take her? What had she done to deserve it?
What had started as a journey of selfless munitions, a mender and her beast clambering across the frozen outcrops, destined to coat a battlefield in angelic raptures, in songs of chaos and mending, ended in another murky throng of chaos altogether. Her sweet, sweet Lena, hoping to lend her assistance in any way she could, felled by an inky behemoth, throwing out herbs at their feet, casting out paralytic, seizing vapors; had Imogen not been quick, light, rapid, and swift, she too would have succumbed to the agonizing tremors – instead, she’d watched and commanded as the seraph’s flame flickered, thrown like a stone to the ground, overcome and overwrought by the potency of dangerous, poisonous nectars.
Then, Imogen had been on the move.
There was no other destination but the Basin. She couldn’t drive her bellows and fire into the Falls without distracting their kin from the battlefield, even if they managed to see or hear her in the pitfalls, pendulums, and gallows, there would be no sense in embarking and funneling chaos into chaos. She’d simply have to climb the embankments, the summits, the peaks, and valleys, to raise the alarm to those who hadn’t been asked to join the frontlines. So the kitsune did, in brilliant, everlasting fortitude, for she’d followed the Songbird up and down the fortifications, the ramparts, so many times before, coaxing, dancing, meandering until they laughed and chimed, echoing belles of the snow and ice – and all she fixated, riveted upon now, was entering the grounds as a blazing maelstrom of rancor and wrath, racing past the metal sentinels, the crisp, lush taste of Orangemoon. She wasn’t sure of how many had stayed behind in the wake of frigid temperatures, in the vestiges of autumn’s ambrosia, but her first thoughts were of Roland and his surreptitious values, all the beloved sentiments the Time Mender held for him; she blistered and consumed all over again. Like a savage, potent messenger of disaster, the ivory vixen made her way into the deepest regions of the wide-open valley, into the first flickering petals of snow, and released her augured, siren call of treachery, an earth-shattering howl, a piercing, puncturing clamor, unwinding, uncurling, uncoiling it on ferocious peals of smoke and ash, desperate for attention, for notice, for observation, from those still lingering in their frigid halls.
Wouldn’t they come for one of their own? For a creature who loved, cherished, and adored every single monster, heathen, and infidel?
[@[Roland] @[Ulrik] Imogen coming into the Basin to inform Lena has been captured. Feel free to post if you want the info. ;D]
My heart swells like a water at wave
Can't stop myself before it's too late
Credits to wakalrus for image, Frostie for table. <3
A bored, brooding gaze stared out across the abnormally quiet Basin, much of it had moved off south and to battle. Something he had missed in his absence. Though the Nightshade is quite partial to the odd war or two, he quietly enjoyed sitting this one out, feeling pressure lift from his shoulders. There was also a knowing that his bloodline was well represented in the form of Aviya, one of his greatest creations. She had the sharp venom of her mother and the twisted view of her father; it left a proud welling inside him. Still, in the eerie absence of those bound for the fight, it left little to do at home except torment Aramis and stop pesky hornless from escaping. On the odd day he’d examine a new plant or poison an unsuspecting rodent to observe its affects, though he hadn’t found anything brutal enough for his tastes recently. The turn of seasons and the arrival of Orangemoon had relieved him of the stifling heat and d’Artagnan enjoyed the colder wind with the hints of snow. It was, however, like a cruel bait that echoed Frostfall, but not quite. The Nightshade might have loitered a bit longer if it wasn’t for the interrupting scream of a rather distressed fox. Aramis picked it up with a snap of his head, recognizing the call of Imogen, the companion of Lena.
"Come" he barked briskly into the Doctor’s mind. The blood bay frowned at the use of the hound’s tone, but followed anyway with his mouth firmly shut, intrigued as to why a fox’s screech would set his Guard so on edge and also not really wanting to trifle with the fire breathing beast.
It didn’t take too long, they had been lingering by the lake and his bonded’s brisk pace meant they got there faster than the leisurely walk. The soon came upon the pale form of Lena’s companion, a fox with five tails, her form quite clearly distressed. However, there was no sign of her bay coloured friend. "Where is Lena?" The Doctor asked with a concerned frown crossing his features. He had never spoken often to Lena, but they shared the same role and had been herd kin from almost the very beginning. She was a little too tender hearted for the Nightshade, but he could say with a fair level of certainty that he would be quite upset if something of happened to her. Many moons ago when he had been captured and held in the clutches of Kri, it had been Lena who had come looking for him.
you're a fraud and you know it but it's too good to throw it all away
While war was waged in the distant south, the Basin went undisturbed. It was quiet in a way that reminded the Thief of the sanctuary, empty, hollow, void of life and light. The telltale chill of Orangemoon lingered in the air, bleeding through the northern winds and sinking into the earth. Gray and angry clouds gathered overhead, threatening snowfall in the wake of their turbulence, stealing the sun's rays in their dark masses. All was well within the valley. By midmorning, Roland had left the silent company of the sentinels, running a familiar track around the Basin's edge as he checked the darkest depths of the caves, skirted the hot springs with a longing glance thrown the way of the rising steam; he meandered his way up into the labyrinthine foothills, through the toppling pillars of sparse pines, the hallowed archways and corridors of the northern kingdom. Their prisoner had been successfully apprehended, her escape prevented by the many that had answered the Engineer's call, and he had no doubts that she was once again tucked safely into their cells. He felt sorry for the girl, that she had been their chosen prisoner of war, hidden away, stolen from her home, but the Thief was all too familiar with the ways of war, of leverage, of security and surety. She was not likely to rot away behind frosted bars, but they could not let her go when victory was not yet within their grasp.
Much to his relief, they had not been disrupted further. Roland had come to feel he was the only one within the Basin's walls, a lonely, single, isolated soul smothered beneath the towering peaks. He watched the golden rays of sunset and sunrise alike slide across the hunched shoulders of the mountains, awaiting the return of his family.
The peace he had hoped for in their absence, so far away from the havoc and mayhem of battle, was not long lasting. It was all too soon broken by a call for assistance, sewing discord and desperation into the autumn winds. A howl, the notes familiar and unsettled as they carried across the rocks and to the shadowed outcrop the Thief had been passing by. He had come to know that voice well, in all of its mischievous elements and strains, every delighted chirp and chime. It guided Roland's steps, pushing his feet across the ground in a flurry of motion the moment her call reached his ears. This was not the sound of a creature at ease, and over the years he had become well acquainted with her every exclamation. Something was wrong.
Without a blanket of white snow to coat the ground, Imogen was an easy find amongst the earthen hues of the Basin's plains, an alabaster speck against muted greens and colourless gray slate. The Thief's limbs were coated in mud from the recent rainfall when he reached her, concern in his gaze and a readiness to his posture. D'artagnan and his hellhound had arrived first, no doubt summoned by the same cry that had garnered his own attention. He glanced around, searching for the Mender and finding her nowhere in sight, when he had known the pair to be near inseparable. "Imogen?" He asked, a breathless note to his voice as his chest heaved and his gaze roamed the empty flats. The Nightshade spoke before him, posing the very question that had been on Roland's tongue. He glanced back to the kitsune, worry tying knots of dread in the pit of his stomach. "Has something happened?"
Two of the horned beasts came, both wholly familiar through exploits, diversions, antics and amusements throughout the Basin, and were it any other time Imogen may have flickered back into her majestic rite; brandishing her blue-tipped plumes in wild, uplifting ambience, sauntering to the tune of her Mender’s songs, pressing the beat of chirps and magnificence in the crescendos…
But it was not to be: the situation was too dire, and she was far too shackled and chained in her wrath to contemplate merriment; not when her beloved Songbird had been diverted and uprooted into peril. Her jaws snapped closed, clicking and clenching against one another in cool predilection, and she sought out pacing, allowing the movements and maneuvers to calm her rankled demeanor, but try as she might, there was no true distraction from the unholy varnish tarnishing her soul, blackening her sights, willing them to immoral factions. The pale vixen glanced from one to the other, realizing her candor, while always a flow of silent, bonding words flowing between her and dear, sweet Lena, the gilded Roland and tattoo-ed Doctor would not be proffered the same benefit. Her chirrups would only do so much. Her anger would only cast so many stones.
Her glance seared to the Hellhound, Aramis, and in untamed, chaotic shambles, she unraveled the tale in bellicose roars and fervent gestures towards the beast, hoping it could convey all the nuances of the disastrous story, not leave it fettered and befuddling. Lena taken by inky stallion. Stolen. Paralyzed by herb. She paused, furrowed her foxy brows, willed all of the wiles of her ancestors, of her lineage, of her species, to portray what needed to be stated. Go to Falls, I think.
Then, she glanced at Roland, whose chest heaved and breath seemed cast aside into amble bouts of consternation and apprehension – rightfully so, because their combined adventures with Mender, Thief, and kitsune had lent some wonderful moments, and disastrous pitfalls. Imogen feared this would claim the latter, and she truly didn’t yearn to bring him any more trials or tribulations (she even feared that Lena wouldn’t want him to know, but then the vixen frowned, bristled, at the thought, tossed it into the wind; her beloved’s safety was far more concern than pangs of angst). Since she couldn’t share a connection, beyond their taste for vanity and grandeur, she began miming the entire event, displaying it in vivid spurts of action. At first she chirped into vivid song, miming the gentle Mender’s ability to conjure light, elegant arias no matter the atmosphere, thereafter pretending to slink across icy steps (as they’d had, yearning to reach the battle before it was too late), then sniffing at a strangle bundle of herbs laid at her lady’s feet. She collapsed onto the ground, acting the part of her convulsing Lena (and even then she growled, clenched her jaw at the rancorous memory, revolted and incensed she couldn’t do anything but flee in that harsh moment), and subsequently stood, out of breath, pulsing, maddened, incited all over again, fur ruffled, disjointed, smoke fuming and curling from her maw and tails. Would either of them understand? Could they help? Or should she just sprint across the void, and rescue her mistress herself?
[@[Roland] @[d'Artagnan] ]
My heart swells like a water at wave
Can't stop myself before it's too late
Credits to wakalrus for image, Frostie for table. <3
Ulrik had been tending to the sentinels again. They needed constant maintenance. Every spare second he possessed was spent tinkering with them, waiting to come up with his next, grand agenda. The God of Time had given him a task, and he was supposed to build machines with others. However, he had not yet been inspired by any individual. Perhaps Thranduil could give him another idea? They could exchange crafts again?
Either way, he ruminated on the subject, only stopping when he saw a strange, multi-tailed creature bound through. The stallion furrowed his brows, wondering what strange occasion warranted a visit by a fox. Lost in his own head as he was, he didn't pay a bit of attention that it as in fact Lena's companion who ran in, looking for help. Ulrik finished his task then turned when he heard a series of male voices, one of whom uttered "Imogen". Listening to d'Artagnan, he connected the fox creature to Lena and grunted quietly, looking to the others.
"I'll go," he said firmly, taking off at a brisk lope and following the creature through the heavy snow. The gold casing around his body, courtesy of Thranduil, protected him well, and he kept up fairly easily - cloven hooves giving him proper bearings over any surface. He paused when he reached the entrance to the Falls, bronze eyes sweeping over the borders.
Ulrik did not know his way in, and he did not know his way out. However, Imogen ran in, obviously knowing where Lena was. The stallion paced at the edges of the land, keen eyes staring in at the trees as she stalked. Kirchoff skulked at his side, sniffing deeply but smelling nothing but rich earth and waterfalls. The Engineer paused, ready to just run in, horn-pointed if he had to.
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