"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.
Here we were, surrounded by snow and ice that curved above us, a vault of blue that encased us in frost and echoes.
I’m 0-3, Pa.
Then I suggest you change that.
There was a beauty in his words.
It was a garbled beauty, black and barbed, dangerous to touch and awful to spew from your mouth cuz it scratched you on its way out. But it was a beauty anyway and I latched onto its painful husk gladly, willingly, a hook I had needed in the line to salvation.
We can't afford to fuck this up.
So it wasn’t even an option.
I stood there in the ankle-deep snowdrift, you perched on my poll while my shoulders were adorned with the rust-kissed blades of a sword I had dug from a glacier some time ago—seasons, seasons had passed, the wheel turning even though there was still so much bloodshed hidden by the new snowfall of a brand-new year.
A brand-new era of bloodshed.
A brand-new era of more frost, more snowfall.
A year since my previous disaster, that shadow I had let slip passed my grasp and into the throat of my Toto—a loss laid to rest, but a scar that I still picked at from time to time, the scab too large to peel off just yet.
The beauty in his words gripped me with purpose—clear-cut and golden, cuz lord knows I wouldn’t have achieved this focus on my own. My head was a mess by itself, a catastrophe of nightmares and blue eyes and golden locks and the burning, burning question, why Pa, why did you—
--but no. That’s not why I was here. I was here for other things.
(Eyes of red)
And maybe one day all that black shit would spew from my head and my heart and my mouth and I would lay it at my father’s feet and dare the bastard to turn his cheek away—
--but not now. That’s not why I was here.
My breath frosted around me, clouds of smoke drifting on either side of me as I stood in the pale, translucent shadow of an icy arch. I sighed; I rolled my shoulders, and rusted metal jostled around, a discordant melody in the din.
You fluttered on my head; your wings spread and you snapped at the air, gripping my mane tightly with your talons. There were no questions, now. You were just ready alongside me.
“…Pa,” I spoke—my voice pouncing off of ice, back at me, into the air, traveling down, down, down the corridor and laying itself into the softness of snow. “Here I am.”
"I think you'll find that your Pa will be a little late. (dead)"
... That-that last word wasn't actually spoken.
Was it?--WAS IT.
Time was slippery, and now time had begun to spin. No wait--fold. Time was folding. Once, twice, five times - did you know you can't fold a piece of paper in half more than 8 times? No of course you don't, because it just isn't true. You can fold it as many times as you want, assuming the paper is big enough and you're strong enough. Now you probably can't (I'm 0-3 Pa) because you're weak. Now, fun fact. If you folded a piece of paper in half 103 times it would be as thick as the universe. Now, why do I mention this? Oh, just to show you how well and truly fucked up things become with enough power.
And let me give you another small factoid: it won't even take a fraction of the power needed to fold the a'fore mentioned paper, to kick your pathetic ass.
You're pretty sure no one has said anything - the wind is blowing and it's cold, but there's definitely no one around.
Right?--RIGHT!?.
Pa - here I am
Your voice wafts back towards you - not an echo though. It's genuinely your voice speaking, but it sounds so small and so young. The very words seem breakable, and indeed as soon as they reach your ears something around you shatters - the very ice on which you stand is moving (actually it isn't - it's just a function of time suddenly shifting).
"Last chance to fuck off kid-" That definitely isn't your voice anymore. "This ain't your fight."
Quickly—suddenly—agonizingly slowly, everything started crumbling to shit around me.
But it was fine, too. Ice still curved around me on all sides; snow still clung to my fetlocks. There was still wind, it was still cold, stars still glittered in a sky that was blacker than I’d seen in a long time. I was still standing there, in snow; I still had four legs; I had a chest and ass, both too blocky and square to ever be feminine; I had two ears, two eyes, and one large, catastrophic mouth that pulled into something taut, stressed. But I was all there; lungs, kidneys, an asshole and a heart that was too large to keep carrying like this. I was still whole. I was still me.
(Wasn’t I--?)
The knowledge didn’t stop me from feeling wrong all over, though. I felt it—in my gut, in my skin, floating all around me (I think you'll find that your Pa—), and the air tasted different and the snow felt funny, too silken and rough on my skin and fur (-- will be a little late--) and my thoughts had been crystal-clear and on-point just a second ago but now they were starting to ramble and crumble and twist down corridors I didn’t want it to go—
(--but instead they got me and now TOTO’S--)
Dead,
dead,
dead.
(dead)
One thought penetrated my mind, blinding and hot and furious and urgent. You need to leave, I said to you, my whole body locked and loaded, and I felt you shift atop my head where you were perched, You need to go, now, ‘fore shit hits the fan. I said go! Get the fuck on, Cheek! And you—you with your tawny, headstrong eyes and your puffing, heartstrong chest and your sturdy, cockstrong talons—you wasted no time at all, immediately blowing me the fuck off like I ain’t even say shit, ignoring my ass, my worry for you, cuz there was no way you were gonna sit this shit out.
I loved you for that—I loved you so hard it hurt, but it didn’t make my life any easier knowing I was dragging your lil’ baby ass into this mess with me. So I kinda hated you, too.
Pa - here I am.
I say to myself.
My head snaps forward; my eyes go even harder if that’s possible, and my breathing is a heavy cloud that froths in the ice-cold air. Do I truly sound like that? The thought is a wordless emotion running through me—disgust, mostly, and a heady sense of shame at the smallness in it, the vulnerable bits I feel sometimes lurking in my heart. Is this the voice that Lee hears?
"Last chance to fuck off kid. This ain't your fight."
I swell at that—and instantly the shame is washed away, replaced with a roaring, gaping dragon of molten rage at the thought of this red-eyed bitch using my voice like that (making me feel--) I tip my shoulders and a crash of metal erupts beside me and a useless sword drops to the ground—broken and ancient, just like this bitch face. “It is now,” I growl—loudly into the cavern, owning my fucking voice and drowning out the echo of a falsehood. I suck in my breath and I’m belting it out—
“PAAAAAA!!”
--cuz he was supposed to meet me here--him and not this thing making me feel wrong all over, shifting the world around me in ways that I’m just able to notice.
"So be it." The voice was nonchalant, distant, uncaring. Other than your rotting corpse being kept chilled on the ice, it was no skin of her nose if you died here today. Well, it wouldn't be if she had a nose. But she didn't. In fact, she was mostly wraith like. In-fact in fact, she looked a little something like....
Ice screamed as something burned its way through. Rapidly melting structures went immediately from solid to gas releasing burning energy into the frigid air where it quickly returned to a solid. Shards of ice, growing larger and larger like falling spears began to fall all around as she made her grand entrance. Her body was a effervescent jumble of black and blacker smoke. Her limbs could only be seen for a fraction of a section - like flashes of lightning that revealed the hardened, chiseled white bone beneath. She did not have the strength to become fully corporeal here, but she would. And soon. Eyes, red and captivating glistening furiously like coals burning in an already sweltering night.
Drolgotha. The queen bitch. Not a known giver of fucks.
Turning her seething stare towards you, she looked around - as uncaring as anything in the world. As if this wasn't about to be the final boss battle; as if you weren't screaming for your daddy.
"Times up." She said, her voice a cool clean drink of something nasty and foul. Her eyes had wandered around the barren landscape, her lips only bothering to move once her devilish gaze had finally filtered to you. You the only thing here. With a swiftness that you probably thought she was capable of, but didn't think she would bother with, her hands rose and formed a spherical shape, stretching out from her torso. Those flashes of lightning continued beneath the black smoke, and you could vaguely make out long fingers beginning to clutch something. A ball of light appeared in her outstretched hands, interwoven with a darkness that seemed impossible. Grinding her teeth together with a bone crunching sound, she thrust the shadowy-light directly at you. Like a missile it raced towards your chest.
You might fight until someone runs out of HP.
Attack: Ice-spears from the sky + shadowy blast magic, oh my!.
:: [Magic: darkxwind | Can create and throw an orb composed of energy at an opponent. At the center of the orb is bone, when it strikes the bone makes it feel like a good old fashioned hulk-punch. However as the energy dissipates it leaves the area feeling freezing cold.]
Staring into the eyes of your nightmare is the most horrible experience of living.
(But I’ve been doing it so often lately—)
The voice was morphing—changing into something all its own, and that wasn’t much of an improvement, cuz now it fell from nonexistent lips like drops of heavy, chilling black water oozing from the deepest pit in the coldest circle of hell. My whole being tightened; my eyes, my chest, my spirit and my quickly-fraying mind, as though all of me were trying to keep it together in the face of an evil that had haunted me for so long.
The world shrieked as she tore herself into existence, as though everything about her was wrong for this plane. The ice around us shifted and warped itself into teeth and the sky erupted with falling shards of ice-cold death. I didn’t have time to think of how shitty this situation was; I ducked my head, grasping the ruined hilt of a ruined sword between my teeth while you were forced to flap away from me, your tiny wings beating too hard and fast to get anywhere far. You zpsnck!ed into something larger but I couldn’t see; I was too busy backpedaling, my mouth full of ruined metal and the world’s jaws clamping down on me, no matter how fast I tried to move.
A few of them managed to fall on me, into me—three fat pieces of ice falling passed me, scraping my left hip, my right shoulder, the left side of my poll. Whizzing past much too fast to lodge themselves into me—but the teeth scraped my skin just hard enough for blood to peak through, wondering if it should start bleeding or not. My pained, frustrated cries were muffled, caught into the grip of the blade. I stumbled—I backed a few steps more, but she was here now and I looked up and into the face of my nightmare.
Red eyes. Red veins.
She stood before me—nothing but shadow and asshole and other things cold. Her eyes darted around, fiery and flashing, and I was already doing battle—with you, cuz your fool ass still wasn’t listening to me. Chico, you have to go-- I was saying furiously in my head, and you were fighting me just as savagely, just in time for those red eyes to find mine my red veins.
Time’s—
—up.
The words had barely finished echoing in all my dark places when I shot my lightning at her; it burst from me, bubbling hot and urgent, something itching in me to attack her and get her out of my face as fast as possible. But she was also attacking, reaching out and wielding the wrongness that permeated her presence, her air and her very breath; she molded it with her fingers, caressing it into a weapon and firing it from her fingertips straight for me—for my heart.
It sailed in the air at an impossible speed and I was lost with a mouth full of useless metal. I dodged left—but it was too fast for me to clear away from. It socked me in my right hip, the blast pounding me so hard I felt the reverb of it rattle my bones, my muscle, my sanity. My right hind leg jerked underneath me, weak with the dull-muscle pain racing through my nerves like a muffled alarm; as soon as my hoof touched the ground, I knew it wasn’t gonna bear my weight.
The fight had barely begun and I was already getting fucked.
I wasn’t even sure if the lightning I had thrown at her would have any effect. The image of my Pa wielding the bitchin’ Sparkmarrow was burned in my eye, but I didn’t have that same sword. I had its shadow lodged in my mouth, dangling uselessly like a frail, old gentlemen at a strip joint, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it. There was no glorious lightning, no obvious, graceful power--nothing.
I would’ve panicked but I was already in the thick of a fight. My mind raced as fast as it could with a throbbing leg; I figured and wondered and pondered and came to a garbled realization. ”If that's what the sword looked like when it came through .. I can only imagine how she looks."My Pa’s voice echoed in my head—and I wondered if this sword would still be effective against her. Something decrepit against something else decrepit—I mean, there was a logic in there, right?
(that blast sure as hell didn’t feel like anything decrepit--)
I tested my leg again and it shook a little as I forced my weight on it and there would be a limp soon but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Sword-bits rattled as I turned to face her again. With a snort, I charged for her—my gait painful, but getting steadier and steadier as I fought against the ache of it. I got as close to her as I dared before wrenching my head to one side—and then flinging the sword toward her, letting the grip sail out of my jaws as the weight of so many dangling pieces flailed in the air, the whole of the apparatus sailing straight for her as I willed those jagged, rusted pieces to pierce into her and give that bitch tetanus.
Drolgatha was powerful, an ancient goddess and something other worldly. Despite the shocking exterior, perhaps the most horrifying component of this entire scenario was the realization that the God of Helovia were not the only monsters in this world and that your benevolent leaders had enemies. Real, vicious, enemies.
She had every intention of destroying the child of a god today, every desire to see her blood dashed upon this ground for every foul and disgusting act performed by her father. "Daddy" would pay for what he'd done and what he was doing - for his power and the power of his siblings. There was no remorse in her actions, only a furious efficiency and deadly malice.
Though like all corrupt beings, she reveled in your pain, laughing the sound of shattering souls. This, coupled with some distance cry, made her unaware of your attack. Metal bit into the smoke of her flesh, and she howled angrily, blue blood leaking from her wounds. This liquid, hissing and bright, snaked over the fragments of your sword, infusing them until every component was glowing with spark.
She looked upon this with horror, eyes turning red with rage. "You BITCH!" she screamed, seeming to grow in size. A distant cry called her again, and she sneered, lips curling back from her fanged teeth. "I will see you again, mark my words, little god-child," she whispered, pointing a bony finger.
In a swirl of smoke, she raced across the snow, heading EAST.
You follow.
You discover.
The truth is... well...
Up to interpretation.
Congratulations! You now have a real Spark Marrow sword! It is still a little faulty, but during the coming SWP, it will improve in strength and reliability!