"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.
I'M THE END OF A HITCHCOCK MOVIE A LITTLE DARK AND A LOT CONFUSING.
[For @[Knox]. Immediately following his failed stealth on Maren.]
What had he seen? A flicker of green? It seemed impossible, but Gaucho followed his instincts nonetheless. He had been following Maren, wanting to discuss the remainder of the plans for the church and lighthouse, when he saw it.
It was no more than a whisper. A ghost of black out of place but .. It was there. Six pairs of eyes recognized it - in his antlers, Mara slithered forward, perched precariously on his brow. Her tongue scented the air, trying to pull back whatever it was she tasted only moments before. At his shoulder, Vorsa flew on soundless flaming wings. The phoenix was the most easy going of the trio, but even her happy-go-lucky thoughts had all but stopped as she sensed the urgency flaring brightly in the minds of the other two.
Magic bloomed from Gaucho as he raced after what seemed like a ghost. Black spots in his field of vision, as if he had stared at the sun too long. But he hadn't. It had been there.
Two large dragons composed of fire blossomed from his antlers, spewing forth first in smoke and then igniting as their combustible bodies soared into the sky, casting a warm light on everything they flew over. Claws and teeth made of flames looked for something to scald, while the Wildfire himself followed in their tread. Gaucho's own flaming wings were brandished like swords at his flanks, while his primal and painted body raced after an invader that he knew had to be ahead.
Someone was there. He felt it. And for a creature as primitive and primal as Gaucho was, relying on his instincts was more than enough justification.
"SHOW YOURSELF" He roared over the crackle of his flames. The light from the symbols on his antlers cast horrific patterns on his dark features as his stormy gaze surveyed the area. Ahead, his dragon creations soared ahead, as if trying to box-in whatever - or whoever - was trying to elude him.
05-28-2015, 09:12 PM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2015, 09:14 PM by Knox.)
A mistake.
That is all Manhattan tells Knox and everything he refuses to hear. He runs from the scene of his failed crime, cloaked once more and on hocks that shake with nervousness. His companion lags behind, unable to keep up with her strange and shifting master as he coils and strikes at the air. He is a viper one moment, a warrior the next. Anaan is the form that Knox falls into: it is the protector’s firm grip, his gentle takeover, that assures the black stallion he will be safe in the end.
And Anaan caries Knox back to the safety of the heart caves: where Darwin was born, where Mandrake and Wilder once died. Anaan remembers not these events, but the soothing water of more recent days and the company of a kinder soul. The battle-scared body barrels towards comfort, bold blue eyes fixed ahead, until behind him alights the dangerous bright orange of a fire.
The flames force Knox’s mind into a reeling, gasping state. The protector stumbles, falls, cloaked and huddled against the wall, begging for release. Deliver me from this, my descendant, comes the protector’s mental cry: the cry of trauma and memory long forgotten.
But Knox, too, is lost. He swims in uncertainty, his mind a body of fear and failure. Manhattan has reached him now, and after years of learning so many other bodies, she presses to the shifter’s side and seeks her master’s heart, even when it longs to be locked away. The hunter’s body shifts through each of his ancestors as the voice of the one who stepped forth in the shadow, the beast of wings and horns, calls out into the tunnels and summons Knox forth. But no part of him, no single soul of the so many within, is prepared.
The first thinks it all a folly; the young, even Knox knows, is too young for this task. And the two brothers, the warrior and the vengeful, have seen nothing of this kind of threat. They, and the Sentinel too, are from worlds too distant from this to comprehend the confrontation that lies at hand. The murderer would only be an antagonist—only start a fight Knox knows, from Manhattan’s mental projections, he cannot now win.
And so the thief remains.
It is fitting, Knox thinks, in some way, that Zekiah is to lead them here. The reckless one, the one with the heart for theft. Zekiah’s figure will be the most fitting. But his mind? Knox and Manhattan share a fear for this. The hunter shifts and drops his cloak from where he stands around the bend, mere seconds from a reveal, and can only hope he has made the right choice.
You will have to listen to us, Zekiah, come the voices of so many; of the Sentinel, the Commander, Huric, and Knox himself—of Zsoka the most.
But there is no reply. As Knox lifts his weary body on four black hooves and carries the body of his ancestor—alone, for Manhattan must stay out of sight this time—around the bend, he knows only that he has thrown caution to the wind. He has chosen to gamble with cards stacked against him—chosen to play with fire.
The black thief stands before the wildfire: recklessly fearless and ready, as always, to die in a body that isn’t his own. With one eye, he blinks a long, slow blink, and dips his head in a measured greeting that connotes no more respect than required. Zekiah is unphased by the threat of this stranger's appearance and the powerful creatures that back him. This flame is nothing but a sputtering coal, desperately trying to shine bright before it burns down to ash.
”I appear to have offended you. Let me offer my deepest apologies.”
06-02-2015, 11:49 AM (This post was last modified: 06-06-2015, 04:01 PM by Gaucho.)
.....
GAUCHO
I'M THE END OF A HITCHCOCK MOVIE A LITTLE DARK AND A LOT CONFUSING.
Gaucho regarded the smokey black creature as he stepped from the shadows. As his neck crested ever so slightly in a greeting, Gaucho's mind was slightly confused. His confusion was even more compounded by the words the darkened steed spoke.
Apologgyyyy? Mara hissesd in his mind, equally as confused. Vorsa, who had perched her flaming body in Gaucho's antlers didn't care at all for this exchange. She hated when Gaucho and Mara focused on tasks such as these, rather than when they are out looking for shiny baubles. The small phoenix finds moments such as these dull and always lasting too long. Her bright red gaze searched endlessly for a reprieve, as she naively wondered if these sorts of meetings will ever stop, or if her bonded is doomed to continue as he has been. To try and diffuse the situation, she trilled gently - like a conspirator trying to gain the attention of an ally without alerting her bonded of her intentions - which of course, was impossible. In response, Gaucho grunted and shook his antlered skull slightly to upset the chick's purchase in his antlers, and silence her attempts at peace.
Gaucho not know. He responded silently to Mara, feeling the same sense of confusion. Thieves do not normally offer such a respectful greeting when cornered. Nor do they offer apologies - typically in these situations Gaucho's hears threats or excuses. It didn't necessarily make sense to him, but nor did that trouble him greatly. Perhaps it should have - just as it should have bothered him that the beast he saw fleeing from Maren was darker than the one before him. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.
"Gaucho not want apology." He returned, his tongue rounding out the syllables of Helovia's native tongue. The dialect was still difficult for him, although he had come along way since he first arrived. Though without Sohalia absent yet again, he had let quite a few of the rules of grammar slip that she had tried to instill in him. He could speak his own language well enough - and many in his herd were picking up the odd phrase here or there. And when he did have to speak the common tongue, he spoke it well enough for others to know what he intended to convey. Grammar be damned so long as he got his point across.
"This only warning. Not steal, or steal from anyone in Dragon's Throat." He didn't need to add the or else, or on pain of death. Gaucho's heavily muscled, armoured, and magic'd build was enough to convey that his threat was not idle. And while it was true that he would afford his outcast this one warning, he could just as happily kill him now (or simply burn that ugly bridal) if his words weren't clear enough.
Zekiah is unfazed. He watches the stallion strut his power before him, flaunting his strength and wealth of control in a manner that borders on the immature.
Does he really think this is frightening? the thief queries to a faint whisper of minds that combine to create no one. He tosses up his head, letting the air shutter through his short cropped mane as he does so. Very well, he thinks, maintain your silence.
And so, being all that is left, the thief takes control. But he is intelligent, even in his recklessness, and knows the repercussions any sort of mocking would have on Knox. He is a meddler, but not one to ruin the life of the progeny he inhabits, even if death means little to him. He watches the winged and horned stallion before him with his eye stern and narrowed--the scar that remains where the other resided twitches, as if rolling what is gone.
Have they always been so tetchy, in that desert herd?
Silence. The snake hissed and the other creature, the bird of sorts, trilled. Zekiah lifted and lowered a hoof absently, watching and listening, waiting for something else from the dull-spoken brute before him.
But silence, silence again, persisted. Zekiah sighed softly, hiding his disappointment, and nodded in understanding.
"Heeded," he spoke with fairness. Should I tell him, he thinks, of your innocent intention?
The one-eyes thief needs not to hear his progeny to know the answer is no. A beast like this, one driven by violence and the flames that he bears, is unlikely to listen to reason. If this stallion wants to be left alone, then left alone he will be--Zekiah knows better than to destroy what Knox is working so hard to build for them, now: the kingdom of silence and stealth that affords them their own lives, their own freedoms.
And with that, there is nothing more to say. The smoky black nods once more, murmurs a faint, "live in health," and turns back to the depths of the cave from which he came. He is skilled at hiding the hissing hatred and disdain he feels, well trained in the verses of a thief's demeanor, and quick, too, in his departure.
Out of sight, he rejoins his companion in the shadows and travels deeper into the cave. The cloak covers them, the form turns back to that of the descendant hunter.
Safe? his companion asks in Knox's mind as she pads beside him, her tongue lolling and dripping with faint traces of a fear she once held. Safe. Knox assures her as he draws closer to the watery lake. Safe from that crock of arrogant shit, thinks Zekiah, his one eye still rolling in the back of the hunter's young mind.
I'M THE END OF A HITCHCOCK MOVIE A LITTLE DARK AND A LOT CONFUSING.
Heeded
Gaucho grunted, a primitive sound of punctuation. He was glad that a river of words hadn't spilled out of the lips of the smokey-black creature. His mind thought of those who had interfered with his borders before, those who had tried to steal from his family, and how they tried to justify their actions. But it didn't matter - it never did. Actions always spoke louder of words, and without the mind-reading abilities of Ophelia, mental states and intentions meant very little to the Wildfire.
Nodding his bone-pierced muzzle decisively, Gaucho turned to go just as Zekiah did. There were no more words that needed to be hashed between them - Gaucho knew what the thief looked like (or at least, he thought he did), and had his scent. His warriors would be notified as well. Perhaps Gaucho's actions were far too large a response to Knox - and his troupe's - actions, but Gaucho was no fool. Three of the herds had been involved in an Invasion, and things were going to be precarious for a while. He would not let all of his hard work to protect his family crumble merely because he went easy on someone.
The reign of the Dragon's Throat would remain, and in it his herd would be fruitful and continue to excel. All that they asked, was that they be left to their bloody sands and their metallic ways. Had they ever turned away those seeking aid or succor? Had they ever left an ally to die alone when their help was called for? Had they not willing traded and aided those around them? They had and would continue to do so. But they would never peddle to thieves. Not with Gaucho around.
On fiery wings Gaucho took to the skies searching for Maren.
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