"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.
It whispered cruelly in his head, malevolent, disgusting as it slithered and coiled through his mind. He stared blankly ahead, walking endlessly, pushing onward even when he had no goal or direction. He had nothing, much less that. Were he any less broken, any less covered in blood and tears and despair, he would have been angry. Furious. Railing against fate, or the gods, or whoever the hell up there decided that Cera deserved this. Had he not been through enough? His body was testament to everything he'd soldiered through, too young, too breakable - nobody had ever cared. He still stood up.
It seemed terrifyingly easy, this time.
Ilaria, perched upon his hindquarters, was silent. A sahara of emptiness when he sought to reach her, neither certain what to say to themselves much less the other. They plodded on, his insides alternating between a despair, a loss, that he never experienced and a simmering anger. He felt...cold. Numb. As if the shattered pieces of his soul had been kicked away too far to ever reconnect, were the pieces ever large enough to be assembled once more. Cera had gazed down at those glittering sunny shards, dispassionate, lost. He had turned and walked away from them, leaving them to their glistening, lost to the sands and surf of time and grief.
Gaucho. Cera paused at the first word that had passed his bonded's mind that he'd been privy to. There was no response, and the wall was re-erected between them, but Cera clung to the directional word. His pace slowed, and the young Forger stared down at his hooves, idly watching stray particles drift and bounce off the striped keratin. Purpose. I need purpose. There was only one way in which to build himself back up again, and if he could not work on the damage yet, he could at least lay the foundation. We are a building. Ilaria said nothing, but Cera could still sense a dull throb of concern from her side of the bond, from where she'd failed to suppress it.
Lifting his head, the boy cried out, sharp and strong.
Gaucho had always come when he needed him. The last of the few Cera could count on. Though he did not know how his faith remained unshaken, the youth indulged in prayer, for the Wildfire to have the skill to help fix Cera.
Meat and flesh and heart could not do any longer. Cera needed to become titanium. He needed to be the very metals he worked with.
GAUCHO
Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse.
Cera--
The thought flooded his mind, like the dull crack of lightning. Immediately his thoughts re-directed his flight back towards the sound of the no-longer boy. He would know Cera's call almost anywhere, and would attend to it immediately whenever he could. Though no sooner had the image of the golden prince come to his mind, it was followed devilishly by another--
Midas.
Did Cera know? Gaucho recalled the way Ranjiri pressed herself against him and how her tears had warmed his shoulder when she heard of her Father's death. Although Midas and Cera weren't connected by blood - and instead the miles and the years had pulled them a part - surely grief would needle its way into the crafter's heart when he heard the news. Hasssssss he? Mara silently wondered as Cera slowly come into view on the bloody sands. Mentally Gaucho shrugged - he had no idea of Ranjiri had told him yet, or if the news had filtered back by some other means. Gaucho could easily be the bearer of many things, but bad news was typically not one of them.
Sweeping low, his flaming body casting warm lights upon the red sands, Gaucho landed a few paces from the pegasus and his companion. Folding his ever-burning wings against his flanks, he moved slowly towards Cera. His stormy gaze surveyed the youth for immediate signs of injury and found none. Satisfied that he hadn't been called down for a mortal wound, Gaucho tilted his antlered skull as his gaze focused into the warm depths of Cera's own.
"Cera-" Gaucho greeted, dipping his bone-pierced nuzzle. In his antlers Mara hissed her usually warm hello, as Vorsa landed on one of the upper tines of her bonded's antlers. Her bright red body sparked with flames as she trilled her own greeting, unsure as to why there was so much tension and uncertainty in her bonded's thoughts.
06-20-2015, 01:58 AM (This post was last modified: 07-22-2015, 09:04 PM by Cera.)
Cera
the Golden Prince
He came. There had never been any doubt for some reason, despite all the events that had happened in his life that told Cera that he should. So many had abandoned him. They had held his tender, golden heart in their tarnished fists and whispered words of promise and loyalty against its gleaming surface. When it stopped reflecting back to them the warped, beautiful image they were so narcissistically enamored with and showed instead their tainted, greedy selves...they dropped it, uncaring of their own perpetuated lies and what it meant for Cera to see it stranded upon the sands. But Gaucho...perhaps he was too primordial to have such grievous flaws, or he was uninterested in being raised on a pedestal to the idol that a younger Cera had made everyone who loved him into.
Gaucho had only left him once. Once. But he had come back. For the first time in Cera's life, somebody who had abandoned him had actually returned. Apologized. And from then on, it had become a pattern. When Cera called, Gaucho came. Always.
Were Gaucho to ever have an altar in his name, Cera would sooner sacrifice himself atop it than have to give up the one man in his life who had always returned. Always supported him. Always been there.
Turning, Cera let himself drown a peaceful sort of death in Gaucho's azure gems, his own name sounding more whole than the boy who owned it had ever been coming from his Sultan's lips. "Gaucho," he murmured in return, toneless in all but an underlying thread of loss and confusion. "Midas...Father...did you know?" Had he and Ranjiri conspired to keep the news from him? Or was it accidental, in the end? Cera as always kept from the one he needed and wanted most by duty?
"He's dead." It felt...heavy, on his tongue. Leaden. The same as how it echoed between his teeth. As often as it had been in his head, it still sounded false somehow when cloaked in his voice. It was still so surreal, such an impossible feat. Midas had been gifted immortality, how could it be? Wasn't the only one who desired such things the Goddess of the Moon? And had she not been cast down from the ranks of the others to walk the land of Helovia, as mortal as those she so apparently despised? "It feels..." helplessly he turned his eyes to Gaucho, chest aching with how numb it all felt. "I can't feel..." it was both a whole answer and a fragment, because what he felt couldn't be described, simply because he could not experience it. Cera had shut down on a fundamental level, and he was left floundering in his own existence.
"Tell me what to do. Gaucho, please." If he never asked something from the man again, he could live with that. "I need to do something. Work. My quest. I don't care if I have to challenge someone, I need to do something. I can't feel anything, and I need to...I need a purpose," he hiccuped, and a singular tear creased in the corner of his eye to trail pitifully down his cheek. He'd been too shy to ask Gaucho for help on his quest before, despite being such a good candidate. But if it made Cera stronger...he would do anything to be able to be useful. Strong enough to blot out his own emotions.
GAUCHO
Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse.
An odd sort of thing happened. It happened in a moment that stretched on for minutes, and yet rolled past such as quickly as seconds do. It was a moment that swallowed up Gaucho for an eternity, but blinked onwards as soon as Cera spoke his next syllable.
Midas...Father...did you know?
For an eternal second, Gaucho was caught off guard by a cold wave. His first thought was that Cera had called him Father, that in the wake of such a disaster one of the primitive instincts of the boy-prince had come to light: the removal of one adoptive Father had allowed for the naming of a second. But that wasn't what caused the cold wave - it was the realization that no, Cera was still naming Midas as Father. Gaucho tried to dampen the feeling of ... jealousy? instead forcing himself to focus on the Golden Prince and his needs.
"Yes Gaucho know." He replied honestly, solemnly. "Gaucho go to Basin on business after Invasion ... Ranjiri was there. She tell Gaucho then, and we go to Falls together where he was buried." Gaucho realized how potentially wounding this information might be - that the Father figure who had been so absent during Cera's life might also be absent even in death. That Ranjiri had seen his body but not Cera was only another reason to think, sorry, family only. You'll always be an outsider. Such was not Gaucho's intentions, but he could not lie to the wounded prince, no matter how deep his words might cut.
"Gaucho think Ranjiri would tell Cera.." He mumbled apologetically. Was it his place to have informed the golden son? As his Sultan? His brother? Then again Ranjiri and Cera were no more related than he and Gaucho were. Perhaps the duty should have fallen to him, perhaps it was merely easier to think that Jiji would be the bearer of bad news. But that was foolish - Gaucho had nearly as much history with Midas as either of the youths did, even if it was on very different terms. "Gaucho should have told you."
He wanted to reach out and embrace the prince, but stayed his wings. Something told him that the golden one would be stronger for his pain - dampening it now would only force him to relive it later on. The death of a loved one could not be displaced, and however much distance had grown between Cera and Midas, clearly the paint still regarded the former Czar as his father.
Gaucho listened to Cera's request, surprised to hear that he on a quest. "Quest?" The dun repeated, his darkened ears perking forward. "What quest?"
Had Gaucho spoken his mind, he would have been further surprised. With all the devastation and ruin that suddenly pervaded the golden's life, all the change that swept through and past him, there was one rock of certainty in the middle of the current. It was why Cera had run for Gaucho, why he would always seek him out in times of trouble. Because Gaucho was more of a father to Cera than Midas had ever been. Perhaps not in physical proximity, or even traditional, complex love. But Gaucho had taught Cera lessons that Midas had never cared to. He'd seen the individual, the independence hesitantly festering in his soul and had encouraged it. Midas had never been able to see past the child cling to his side, forever in his shadow. The man had paved a path of gold for Cera to follow, living on the foundation of his grace and popularity, always given an unfair advantage. Always forever living on in the shadow that grew ever longer in his purportedly righteous death.
Gaucho had shown him another path.
But to call the man father? Cera would, but was unsure of how Gaucho would ever react to that kind of title. Would he misunderstand, in the wake of Midas' death? Find Cera to be too old for that kind of reliance? Be uncomfortable, with the multitude of blooded children he had of his own? So the prince's tongue was forever held, words measured and careful, his own quiet desired trapped in his chest and tattooed on his tongue. Yet another secret to the complexities he'd never seen to exist inside himself.
But pain had a funny way of erasing all those tells, the awareness of change. The subtleties of truth. And it was hidden away for another time, if it were ever to come about. There was too much noise in Cera's head, buzzing, trembling with the staccato beat of his heart. Gaucho's rumbling vocals an undercurrent of truth to the cacophony in his ears. It had not subsided since he'd first found out, and Cera wondered if this was how madness was born.
Cera snorted bitterly, the sting just as sharp even when Ranjiri had shared that particular news on her own. Cold cut stones slid up towards Gaucho's own, heartless for a beat as ice flooded his mouth and cut itself into syllables. "He chose that land. He doesn't deserve to be buried here anyways." It was sharp, but no blood ever burst along his tastebuds in metallic waves. Sincerity dulled the edge of his own blade between his teeth. That he couldn't see his father even in death just made him grin, wry and bitter, glinting like glass caught in the folds of his lips. Bloodstained. But he said nothing else.
It served as perfect grounds for the apology that swept past him, dismissed and forgiven in turn with a flick of his ear. "She thought it would spare me the pain," was explained quietly. As if he deserved that. Thin shoulders shrugged. "I wouldn't have wanted you to...see me like that." A mumbled confession, for though he would have happily leaned upon Gaucho's shoulder, he would not have wanted to make the man uncomfortable. Nor make him feel as though all of Cera's hard work had been put back a great league, when the Prince was standing there in that moment hoping to excel beyond all other measures.
And what better way than his quest? "I met with the Sun God when he visited our lands, and he granted me a quest for magic. Collect four fire magic types in the amulets he gave me - " here he motioned to where they were woven into his mane by Ilaria, for lack of chains. " - and to return to be granted it. I need your help, Gaucho. I need to be strong." Torn face lifted upward as if Gaucho was his savior and he a righteous man to be pulled from the open, yawning mouth of the seas of the damned. The Wildfire was more fitting an idol, an angel, than any other Cera had encountered.