"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.
05-31-2015, 02:32 PM (This post was last modified: 05-31-2015, 02:33 PM by Thor.)
The answers you seek,
Shall be yours,
Once I claim,
What is mine.
So many things were different now and yet utterly the same. The World’s Edge had been divided, replaced, or at the very best relieved of its monotony. The leaves still turned crisp with the coming of winter and the air still succumbed to the chill of cool frost, but those things were only a reflection of what I already knew. It was no surprise that the sea still rushed headlong into the cliff’s face and it was not unusual to find that the mists had grown thin since the rainy season had passed. Everything concerning the land I’d come to know was still entirely unchanged… but now it was somehow unrecognizable.
Rohan had decided to take me up on my offer to visit the Edge, and though I prayed it was not because I’d dared to press him, I still felt as if I’d obtained some small form of victory. Even if it had been by the skin of my teeth. Maybe the selfless parts of my own personality were changing just as much as the place I called home… I didn’t care how I’d come by this opportunity, but only that I had. If wearing such a benevolent guise happened to aid in the matter, then so be it. My name couldn’t be changed nor could my appearance, but there was a shifting in my soul that created a hardness I’d never before indulged. In a way, I kind of liked it.
In a way, it was somewhat freeing.
As I turned away from both Sialia and Lakota, I titled an ear back toward Rohan listening for the telltale sounds of footfall against the dry dirt. Though I couldn’t determine his motives just yet, I felt as if the brute would serve well as a warrior, what with his thick build and keen wit. However, many had thought the same of me… and I’d defied their expectations on numerous occasions. It’s funny how little we pay attention to the equilibrium of our bodies or how accustomed we are to the lifting of our legs or the tilting of our ears… Sometimes I feel as though I’ve forgotten what I am and what I was built for; sometimes I tend to overlook the power I embody. How I wish I’d turned out differently. “This way then,” I called over my shoulder as I moved toward the west. I didn’t want to waste any more time in returning to the Edge; it was quite the trek after all.
For the first part of the journey I opened my stride to the land, a lively trot, and was content to travel in silence. I’d said enough in the way of information back in the Threshold and didn’t want to risk single-handedly delivering Rohan to the Basin on a guilty, silver platter. Besides, Helovia was truly beautiful this time of year with most of the land painted in orange, yellow, and red. The trees were shedding their summer leaves to prepare for the cold bite of snow and while the season worried some, I was more than ready to forget the blistering heat of the previous harsh TallSun.
When at last the looming shadows of the World’s Edge drew near, I slowed into a lofty half-walk, eager to again lay eyes on the cooling mists and the woman I loved. I’d spent so much time away from Evangeline of late, recruiting and otherwise, that it was a relief to know that some of my efforts had finally paid off. With the presumption that Rohan would not be far behind, I motioned toward the borders and the shattered glass wall that once protected them. “This is it- the World’s Edge,” I offered warmly. Nightfall was hanging just over the horizon, but the last rays of evening were still slanted across the tall forests that made up my home. They titled through the limbs and twinkled across the dying grasses where they touched the crumbled shards of the crystalline fortress that was a fortress no more.
“Welcome Rohan. I hope that you’ll one day be as delighted as I am to see this place.”
06-01-2015, 07:01 PM (This post was last modified: 06-12-2015, 11:05 PM by Rohan.)
rohan
how fickle my heart
They don’t linger much longer in Helovia’s Threshold, for which the Warlander is grateful, but as he follows the draft stallion across the wilds of Helovia’s plains, his muscles begin to grow sore. He is weary of travelling. For many months he has been on the move, darting from beneath the black eyes of his father’s minions. Rest seems to be a state he has forgotten by now, his travel-hardened body having carried him worlds away from the life he has forsaken, roughened by the miles that have passed beneath his hooves.
Still, he pushes through the throb of fatigued muscles and manages to hide the weariness of travel well, only manifested by the silence that accompanies most of their journey, different from the stallion’s usual well-expressed opinions. He is content to simply follow Thor, settling into their sweeping pace and taking in the new sights and smells with eager senses.
When the shaggy bay finally slows his stride, the antlered stallion is not far behind, slackening his gait smoothly to come to the other’s shoulder.
“This is it—the World’s Edge.”
Pricking his ears, Rohan raises his head as his bright eyes gaze towards the shadows that rise from the foggy horizon. He remains quiet while they draw near, more interested in discovering what kind of home could await him than making petty conversation. The sun is set low, but its glistening rays still offer enough light to see comfortably, catching the vibrant hues of red, orange, and yellow that paint the boughs overhead. The mists that blurred the horizon hang gently in the air around him, coiling into circles around his legs as he cuts through it.
Even through the light haze, a jagged splinter mirrors dusk’s light in a glittering line, capturing the stallion’s attention. Lowering his nose, Rohan investigates what seems to be the glass remains of…some sort of structure. Snorting to himself, he casts a questioning glance to his host. “Someone didn’t like the décor, then?” He muses dryly, raising one side of his brow in curiosity before he steps over the shattered remains, careful to not snare his skin on the jagged edges.
“Perhaps someday, Thor,” he continues, more to entertain the bay than anything, “I do hope your World’s Edge doesn’t disappoint.” The antlered stallion says this plainly as he brings his green eyes back to the draft, his neutral tone contradicting the frankness of his words. Despite having abandoned the likes of a charming lady in favor of her less-than-enchanting counterpart, Rohan has every intention in giving World’s Edge a proper chance. After all, the North surely can’t hold all of the pretty faces of Helovia. Flicking his tail, the Warlander glances around. “How long have you called this home?”
notes; I wasn't sure if I should tag Torleik and Mauja =X tag; @[Thor], @[Torleik], & @[Mauja] “Speech.”
So, a lot of this was based on chance, right? Life, and being there for things, was based on chance; even if you knew about an event, chances were you might miss it. You might trip on your way there and break your leg. Or maybe you were at the place it was supposed to happen, but then you were chased off by a bear, or the thing itself happened to happen elsewhere, and—
The point was just that if you wanted to keep up with your herd and increase the odds of you chancing upon these things, you had to move about. The more ground he covered, the more ground his owls covered, the greater his reach. The more he stood by the edge and stared out into the ocean, the shorter. Logical, right?
So it was that mixture of effort and chance that had him—yeah, duh, chancing upon Thor and some almost equally ungodly tall unicorn stallion. Was everyone growing up to land their withers at his height? It wasn't that Mauja minded it (like fuck, the less he felt special and outlandish, the better) so much, more like.. it was unusual? He'd grown sort of used to looming above others and suddenly being stuck with a bunch of guys his own size made him self-conscious in some blasted, backwards, ridiculous way.
But still, he didn't care about that. Either Thor was staging an insurrection (unlikely; despite his position he seemed the kind to stare you in the eye as he punched you in the face) or he'd brought a friend (not knowing him, Mauja couldn't decide if he was the kind to have friends or not) or he'd brought a newcomer (in which case he definitely felt like hugging him).
He just wasn't sure Thor was the hugging type, though.
So he settled for an approach that was subconsciously regal—just something about the way he moved, graceful and effortlessly, gliding over the cooling ground with the rays of sunlight falling over him like some heavenly indication that he was good and righteous and a fucking angel—and whatever he'd felt for these gilt rays turned sour.
They were wings, spreading behind him, out from him, away from him, falling upon the world like spears—but they were never his.
He shoved the thought away, tried to bury it with a whatever and a casual flick of his head, but some things lay deeper than we want to admit.. and this did.
Still, he had an itch to satisfy, blue eyes curious and black-rimmed ears tipped forward as he descended upon the duo. He hadn't caught any snatches of their conversation, and wouldn't either, unless they kept talking as he approached—which, frankly, wouldn't bother him in the slightest.
"Hello there," he said as he came closer, gaze roaming once over Thor to make sure he was unscathed, and then settling on the stranger. A tad shorter than himself, now that he was close, some buttery-brown shade he couldn't quite place, and crisscrossed with white stripes that reminded him all too much of Maren, the holy, scary priestess. Impressive antlers sat on his forehead. He was sturdy-looking, but as with Tembovu, Mauja wasn't inclined to pass judgment on visuals alone. "I am Mauja. Who may you be?"
And his tone was all curiosity, a light and gentle thing slipping from dark lips into the crisp autumn air between them, and in some way, despite the fact that he queried the stranger and the stranger alone, his pale eyes did their best to include Thor in the conversation, to let him know—well, let him know whatever, really. That it was appreciated. That he was more than welcome to butt in with wild, fantastical stories of the monsters they had battled in the Threshold and all the butterflies they had chased, and everything—because Mauja, now that he was Mauja again, did not judge. Mauja merely listened.
[ no real need to tag me but I won't bite if you do :) @[Thor] @[Rohan] also let me know when/if you want to be changed to World's Edge <3 ]
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
Voices. One he...somewhat recognized, another - the owner of that statement - that he didn't. Interesting. The stillness of the land allowed sound to travel a good distance, even with the large number of wooded pillars in the way. Did distort what was going on sometimes, though, which could be mildly frustrating.
“Welcome Rohan. I hope that you’ll one day be as delighted as I am to see this place.”
“Perhaps someday, Thor. I do hope your World’s Edge doesn’t disappoint.”
Disappoint? With a snort, Torleik decided that was enough and it was time for him to interject. Shapes were visible through the trees, one hulking and dark - Thor, he thought that'd been his voice - and another smaller, but with...antlers, rather than a horn, or horns. Interesting. Must be someone new, considering the conversation. To the side, he spotted Mauja and tried not to roll his eyes. His queen had been annoying him as of late already, and that didn't necessarily bode well for their rule together.
Polkadot must have not heard the conversation because he simply introduced himself all succinctly and awkwardly asked who this newcomer was. Smooth, queeny. Smooth. "We're in the process of redecorating," the Bloodskald said, announcing his presence casually. "This is our first home together and we can't quite decide on all the remodeling." He nodded towards Mauja and smirked, his tone obviously humorous. "Good to see you, Thor - and you, are you a new member to our herd?" he inquired of the newcomer.
He was a light color with interesting striped markings all along his body - whitish, lighter than his coat. But what intrigued Torleik the most was the fur that ran alongside this male's underbelly, part of his legs, and beneath his chin. He'd never seen a coat like that; even Ulrik was not quite so hairy. The Bloodskald wondered from whence this newcomer hailed and why he'd found himself in Helovia. Was he running from something? Finding a new life? Banished from his old or left of his own accord?
Everyone's story was a fascinating tale in one way or another and the viking was a lover of stories short and long, unbelievable and tame. Lore was part of his childhood and he felt as though that was part of what was missing here in Helovia: sitting around a fire (fire...still not...my favorite...) and sharing tales, legends of victories and heroes, gods and villains. Perhaps that could change now; so many other things had changed so swiftly, why not that? Drawing his focus out of his ruminations he patiently awaited the answer from Thor's guest.
The answers you seek,
Shall be yours,
Once I claim,
What is mine.
I took Rohan for an intelligent fellow who could consciously determine how to avoid splitting his toes open on a bit of glass, but there was something in the way he regarded the World’s Edge that made me think he was also a prude. I didn’t mind this notion or the way he jokingly mocked the shattered walls, but I also couldn’t help the soft smile that followed his pinched jabs. He hadn’t been here when the walls were ruined by the wraiths… Perhaps it was best that they had crumbled anyways. They were just another shadowy reminder of the past. Brutes like Rohan were the future and that was what the Edge stood for now, no?
Instead I let his comment fall by the wayside, a tender thought lost to the grip of the sea and the creak of the wood. I’d grown used to the various opinions of my home and with a great amount of patience I’d also learned how to ignore them. Some fits were more seamless than others, while some did not fit at all. I hoped for the former of Rohan in the Edge, but what could I do aside from letting the land speak for itself… well, and its leaders too.
“I do hope your World’s Edge doesn’t disappoint.
Ever the pessimist. I realized it wasn’t a statement meant to off-put me, but it did. When we again faced each other, both looking to challenge the other for truth, all I could do was ward off the rigid grimace that threatened to turn my lips cold. “It won’t,” I assured boldly and without reservation. However, before I could say much else –which could have been a good thing- the pale vision that was Mauja interjected our conversation. He appeared to recognize me from the meeting or otherwise and I nodded at his arrival- a congenial welcome.
His introduction was kind, perhaps a bit lackluster, but enough for me to hand over the reins I’d been wielding. If anyone were capable of convincing Rohan of the worth of the Edge, I supposed it was Mauja. Or so I hoped. Yet, the antlered brute wouldn’t let me linger without entertainment for long and instead directed another question at me, a silly question really given my adamant preference for the land ruled by the Moon. “Since I came to Helovia, I’ve called the World’s Edge my home… so six years now,” I answered absently. It took me back to so many memories, ones forged from glory, which had burned to ash by now.
Reverie aside, I focused my attention on Mauja hoping that he could shed proper light on the benefits of choosing the World’s Edge over… well, anywhere else. Perhaps even I would be allowed more insight where our future was concerned. I’d even resolved to settle in and wait out their banter for a time when a deep snort –though I would have called it a grunt- perforated the kindly atmosphere I’d built. Torleik and I had never truly shared words and from the looks of it would be doing so now. He was a force of obvious power and not-so-subtle grace, but at least he was more brazen than the rest of us… I mean only he could joke about –mock?- the current state of affairs. Hell, he was one of the Kings creating them.
“And you,” I answered easily. Torleik was certainly no Kaj and quite militant in that regard. Yet, it still struck me how little I knew of my new Kings and how much I knew the Edge was changing. Thank the Gods for a woman to warm my bed at night and Sabine to keep me sane… This was going to be an interesting ride.
Green eyes linger on the large bay stallion, fluted ears pricked forward as he waits for his host’s reply to his…less-than-enthused sentiments. While not usually a despairing character, Rohan does have his brooding moments—and his opinions are, more often than not, too skeptical for his own good. It is all for good fun, really (at least on his end). It is quite entertaining to push life to edge, to poke the bear, so to speak. It is not surprising that many creatures do not share his brazen boldness.
Perhaps, were his senses not fascinated with strange sights and new prospects, he would have caught the slight hardening of Thor’s expression, but the Warlander is far too amused with his curt response to notice the fleeting shift in communication. Rohan continues blithely, allowing only a breath to settle before a wry smirk skews brown lips, the expression reaching into his gaze. “Your confidence is heartening, friend,” there is a droll chuckle in his broad voice—meant to jest rather than mock, but there is a chance that Thor would not be able to distinguish the difference.
Flicking his tail as his deep voice fades into the frosty light of dusk, Rohan’s attention shifts with the snapping of a twig and the whisper of rustled leaves that sigh of the arrival of someone new. The Warlander’s nostrils curl, his eyes briefly narrowing a fraction as they settle on the spotted stranger. Mauja. He is regal, but not quite imposing. Instinctively Rohan arches his thick neck, chest broadening with the pride of any testosterone-ridden creature, but there is curiosity that softens the rugged lines of his face. “My name is Rohan,” the antlered stallion announces, inclining his head in a small, offhand nod.
When his gaze returns to its normal degree, it finds another figure among them. Physically, this one is noticeably more…daunting, perhaps—a true beast, surely. For a moment, Rohan is reminded of his father, a belligerent and selfish bastard—militaristic, and his body flashes with heat before it grows cold with the bile on his tongue. Arlo Kaerji is not the type of vermin he wishes to be reminded of.
Fortunately, the reminder is fleeting when the Friesian opens his lips. Although the black’s words are casual, there is a distinct wittiness about them that immediately brings a smirk about Rohan’s features. He appreciates such dry humor (not to mention, it is nothing like his dastardly father). “Not quite, I’m afraid—Thor managed to sweet talk me from the Threshold, but it would seem the wanderlust of my heart isn’t as easily persuaded,” he purses his brown lips, glancing temporarily to the draft, “I’ll admit, it isn’t often I’m swayed away from prettier faces.” He chuckles lowly, amused by himself.
His attention flickering to Mauja before returning to the Friesian, one side of Rohan’s brow rises. “And might I suggest not having a ruin of shards at your borders…it is not necessarily ‘welcoming’ to guests when their skin is threatened to be sheared from their bodies. Unless that is your way of weeding them out,” the Warlander shrugs, a demure simper playing across the line of his mouth, “to each their own, I suppose.”
notes; heh this guy x] tag; @[Thor], @[Torleik], & @[Mauja] “Speech.”
The smirk that this newcomer offered warned Torleik of the attitude he likely adopted, so it didn't come as complete surprise when Rohan offered a nearly barbed quip in reply. "Wanderlust." The word is not foreign to him, and it was spoken with some weight. "I have often found that those who cannot settle into a home usually are not prevented from doing so by the home itself, but by a driving force inside that never quite lets them be at home within themselves. They wander to avoid confronting that which is distasteful inside of them, or inside their past." Piercing blue eyes affixed on Rohan's face. "I wonder, which are you?" The question was murmured almost absentmindedly, hinting at an internal thought spoken aloud without purpose.
The next phrase piqued his curiosity simply for the fact that it sounded rather like a non-sequiter: clearly something must have transpired in the threshold but the king had not been there to witness it. "Prettier faces?" A single, rather unamused brow quirked when the antler-horned stallion so magnanimously suggested they do something about the crumbling glass wall, and irritation became the rabicano's predominant emotion - though it was delivered in cool sarcasm. "Surely with the barbs you've shown you're capable of producing you haven't any fear of cutting yourself on mere glass? You seem a capable enough fellow to effect change; shall I consult the Goddess of the Moon, ask her if she might bless your sharp, keen mind with the magical gifts necessary to manipulate the wall? We certainly could use a Glersmiðr," the dark stallion replied with a shrug of his muscled shoulders, glancing at Mauja to see if his queen wished to play along.
No real ill-will was festering between the Bloodskald and this stranger, though he did find his sharp manner to be more rude and ill-bred than amusing considering he was a guest within their land, currently. Perhaps he did not understand he could be killed for simply stepping foot across their border... But that was an unnecessary lesson to be touched upon. Torleik doubted this Rohan would cause more trouble than simply stirring up a hornet's nest of words.
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