"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.
08-29-2015, 05:07 PM (This post was last modified: 08-29-2015, 05:10 PM by Random Event.)
Two colts took down his back half while two with wings brought him down from above. Crystals fell from his body like shattered glass, and without memories, the beast was dead. Blood pooled from its carcass from the damage inflicted by fearless Helovians and Riftians alike, and with each liter, the Blood Falls seemed to brighten. No longer did the blackened trunks of trees cower, and the thick, bloody liquid of the water cleared to a ruby red. The oppression of the sick gods was ending, and the land was being restored under the powerful and watchful gaze of the God of Time.
That was when Roskuld, his daughter, ended it all.
A large shockwave snapped, sending vibrant ripples of power cascading in all directions, and creatures, once too fearful to leave their homes, emerged. Birds of all colors chirped and the sun shone once more, long tendrils of light streaming from the crimson tipped tree leaves.
The difference between then and now was catastrophic. A black, dark world with air thick and clogged to this natural one of splendor and beauty. Perhaps for some, that made this god's death worth it, but for others? Perhaps not. The God of Time stood, mulling over the dark boy who had dared tried to thwart it all, and he grumbled, watching as everyone took a moment to catch their breaths. Surely, this was not all over. There would always be repercussions for facing those who were ill, and the God knew that this would not be the last of this Rift world.
Now that the creature was dead, though, there were a few useful items to be harvested. He pulled five glass vials from the nethers, filling them with blood and tossing them to Parelia, Aithniel, Tembovu, Maren, and Roskuld. Then, he took small crystals and tossed those to Ilios, Aurelia, Hotaru, Ragnarok and Erebos.
With a rib he made a knife, tossing it to Ophelia deftly. She had, after all, stripped a god of its memories.
Somehow, a skull managed to disappear completely, right out from under his nose... that was... disconcerting. Knox....
For a special fighter, one of these Rift creatures, he fashioned the hide into armor. He did not know her name, but he approached her regardless, setting the white pelt upon her back. "Thank you for your help," he said firmly. "You are a welcome addition to Helovia."
Two creatures, also valiant in their efforts against the bear, earned power imparted from himself. He called forth Amani and Crescencia, and he brushed his whiskered muzzle against each of their foreheads, light blue sparks jumping from his lips to their fur. Perhaps they would immediately know what power he gave, or perhaps they would figure it out in time. "My magic is now yours," he said. "Use it wisely, for one can take advantage of fears, and one will show the past. Do not dwell on fear lest it control you, and do not dwell on the past lest it determine your future."
Though not often a creator of flowers, he made one of blue and placed it into Tandavi's mane. "Thank you for your help," he said.
He turned to the rest, particularly Rikyn, Volterra and Ilios, who were instrumental in the bear's destruction. "Be safe. You are no longer boys at all, but strong stallions. You will make your fathers proud."
He had so many words to say to the rest but ironically, very little time, so he turned to his daughter. "You... are everything and nothing I expected, and that is, in my eyes, perfection. I eagerly await your journey in this world... my Sparklight." Using some hide from the Bear God, he fashioned a strap that attached to a metal plate, a magnet of sorts. In this way, she could easily carry her fateful weapon, killer of gods, around on her back. "Sparkmarrow is now a god killer. It deserves a worthy throne."
And with that, the Time God simply disappeared - almost as if he was never there at all.
The bloody forest around us seemed to brighten--bloom--in the aftermath of the battle.
The chaos came to a surprising end—like it was almost too short or someshit, like I had been expecting a drawn out slaughter or whatever—and as I got to my feet, my leg having stopped trembling and aching thanks to the fuck given by some strange bitch, I watched with dull senses as my Pa went around to many of the fighters that had gathered, throwing some blood (to remind us of something important, probably) and handing my Ma a god’s bone, a memento of the carnage that that bear had sparked in all of us.
And then he—well, when he was done with everyone there—
--he turned to me.
And gave me shit.
And all I could do was stand there like an idiot, my mouth gaping, open and closed, as he turned from me and left this plane.
I stood there for….damn, I dunno how long. Weighed down with the things he had given me—the words and the strap and everything( sparklight), all of it bubbling up in me like champagne, air bubbles and whatnot making my brain go fuzzy and numb with—
--and—
--and--
….whatever.
It didn’t last long, though. Gradually the bubbles started bursting, replaced by the heat and the spark of something that I’d been chewing on this whole time, threatening to choke me out if I didn’t let it fly anytime soon.
So I did.
I ignored the girl who healed me, ignored the fact that there were two others helping you bring me my sword back (the idea of which left me dizzier than I’d like so I’m gonna stop thinking about that—); I turned and I searched and I found my prey, and as soon as I did—the fight was on.
“HEY!!” I screeched, my whole everything livid and on fire as my eyes sparked at the sight of—
--well, y’know. Faux-to-to.
I stomped toward her, a demon on the march, I didn’t care that she had been hurt, that I had almost hurt someone else’s companion (for some strange goddamn reason), that there were others here wounded, or super hurt, or traumatized, or confused, or whatever the hell. In fact, all of that knowledge kinda spurred me forward, and my whole spirit shook with the rage I was unleashing a poor, fallen girl of earth.
“Let’s get one thing goddamned straight,” I hissed, my voice bubbling out like fire even though I didn’t deal with that bullshit, “Don’t you EVER let me catch you putting these people—my MA-- this land--anything, anything at risk like that again! Do you hear me?! The next time you set yourself against me, I will wreck your shit and end it. Do you understand that much, you Nameless Bitch?”
I trembled in front of her, my whole body jumping, sparked and electrified, the air above my back rippling with the flashes my iridescent wings. I stared at her, waiting--wishing)— she would give me a reason right that moment.
08-29-2015, 05:51 PM (This post was last modified: 08-29-2015, 05:57 PM by Volterra.)
and it's our time now if you want it to be
maul the world like the carnival bear set free
There's a resounding thud as his massive hooves slam into the bear. He cripples it, knocking its leg out from under it, and in his delight at his success he does not move away fast enough. The bear stumbles, falls, dies, and on the way down it hits him with such force he stumbles and falls to his knees. They aren't hurt due to the grass, and he mercifully avoids a puddle of blood, but the bear's full weight slams into his left side and leaves an instant, heavy bruise. The beast staggers to his feet and just manages to scramble out from beneath the fallen creature before it crushes him completely, breathing heavily and sweating profusely from his flanks and his arched neck. The pain is considerable, but it pales in comparison to the success he feels - he felled a God.
Through their bond moreso than his own eyes, he sees his dragon dive in front of Isopia, but she, in turn, throws up an arc of earth to protect him from the lightning bolt. Volterra's jaws gape as a throaty bellow erupts from the depths of his thick chest, fearing that the bolt will carve through earth, dragon and Isopia alike and leave them all as a scorched mess - but they don't. She protects the red as he had wanted to protect her, and the colt's entire body sags with relief that she is alive. But her screams still echo in his ears, and he knows that the sound of Isopia in pain is not one he ever wants to hear again. Normally if somebody hurt her like that he would decimate them, but he doesn't know who out of the crowd of heaving bodies was the one to hurt her so - his vengeance cannot find a target.
Unhurt, Vérzés circles away from Isopia and towards his bonded. "Sore?" he questions in his draconic broken speech. The mammoth shakes his heavy head numbly - yes, he's hurt, but he will live. Some other Helovians are far more badly injured than him, and part of him wishes he had gained cuts that will turn to scars for him to wear as trophies. Alas, his bruise will fade.
The Time God speaks, and as Volterra limps away from the corpse he tilts his ears to listen. The God begins to throw crystals, bits of bear and vials of blood towards certain fighters, then bestows magic on others; the yearling's heart begins to pound excitedly, wondering what he will get, what delight will be thrown towards him. But when the God turns to him, he gets....words. Admittedly very pleasant words, words that make his ego and manhood alike swell with the compliment and that make his powerful neck arch that little bit more like the stallion he is so close to becoming, but it is not what he had been expecting or hoping for. You are strong stallions, you will make your fathers proud, says the god. Where's my fucking present then? thinks the giant. Sure, he's a little bit bitter. All his hard work, and all he gets is kind words? Other horses who had done less damage than him get given magic, bits of bear, crystals...he gets sweet FA. Hmmph. Still, he dips his skull in acknowledgement of the God's words. To be complimented by a deity is a fine privelege...just not quite as nice as having a nice rib to smack people over the head with.
Still, he has his memories of the battle, and what fine memories they are! What better way to rip through the maidenhead of his fighting virginity! Yes, he does feel more grown up now, more like an adult as the God proclaims - it has been a coming of age. Or, in Ode's case, just a coming. The beast snorts through flared nostrils, then immediately begins to scan the crowd for Isopia. Through Vérzés' eyes, he sees her; badly wounded and being shouted at by some skank with a sword. With a sharp hiss, the leviathan moves towards them, limping slightly from the tightness in his side. Vérzés emits a cloud of frost as he descends to land on the colt's withers, gripping his thick neck and peering around it. He wants to jump in, to defend his best friend despite the fact she'd put herself in danger by defending the bear, but he doubts she will appreciate him trying to fight her battles for her. He wants to, dammit, but he bites back the words that dance on the tip of his tongue.
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ] [ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Knox is almost out of sight when he hears the crash. He turns back and feels his magic grow stronger: the fight is over, the battle won and lost. The Bear God has fallen, and the Time God has prevailed.
His cloak does not waver, now, with the conflict a quickly fading memory. He stands, shielded from sight, at the crest of the hill and looks down upon the destruction. He knows he had a part of it, and he knows he has done wrong.
But Manhattan feels otherwise--she has already run from her master, creating a distance between them and darting unseen between bodies broken and beaten beneath the cloak of dappled light. Knox may regret his actions, but she does not. She is proud of what she has done today, and she seeks a trophy.
Somehow, the Bear God's skull has been cast aside like a forgotten article. She pants as she draws closer, her blue eyes gleaming and her poisonous jaws snapping in anticipation. This will be the best damn chew toy she's ever had the pleasure of making her own.
But Knox has other plans, and as soon as he makes out his companion he lashes her with a thought.
Leave it! he screams in their bond. The last thing he needs is to carry around evidence he was here today. Already, the God will know and find him. Already, he has lost an important war.
And though she is reluctant, she knows she must obey. She gives the skull one last forceful tug, pulling the jaw-bone away and cracking it. How fragile it seems now, in the mouth of the companion--how small.
Reluctantly she skulks back to Knox. His magic may protect them both from most prying eyes, but still the God could turn and see. He cannot linger. He must return home, to his mate.
And so they walk together, away, Manhattan with her head low and expression sullen, Knox with his ears pinned and mind racing.
What have I done? he asks her, desperate.
You've fought well, she replies quietly in their bond.
Manhattan, cloaked, runs back to grab the Bear God's skull from where it landed in the shadows on the sideline as a trophy when the fight is over. She is scolded by Knox and finds it too heavy anyway, but manages to separate the jawbone before she runs off. The skull will be found by Ashamin. Migraine post, apologies for any typos.
Ashamin felt the burns on his back like hot coals and immediately he fell, unable to complete his buck. All he could do was collapse into the water.
Until Badger came.
The gelding's generosity was remarkable, his willingness to risk his own life to save that of a near stranger's so genuine that Ashamin could focus on nothing else. Everything happened so quickly, but he knew better than to reject the boy's herbs and medicines now. With haste he tugged from Badger's grip with a thankful smile, pressing them deeper onto his burns until at last, their raging fire was quelled.
He heard the battle behind him like a clamor, and he knew. Everything would be over, soon.
Ashamin struggled to stand, then, gathering purchase on the uneven footing of the shore. It was Maren who stood before him when he rose. Maren.
"This God... I think he is angered by our presence, I'm... I'm unsure," he answered her honestly, weakly reaching out to press his cheek (even that, bloody) to hers. The edges of his sarong floated gently on the water, the rest of it barely draped over his withers.
When he turned back and saw the chaos come to a close, he knew he had to move. "Maren, come!" he cried out, struggling to get out of the water before the false god fell.
But the fall ended in magic, more than anything else.
The haruspex looked around as the scene became almost beautiful. Were it not for the masses of dying and injured souls, he would have believed it. He pulled himself ashore and carefully walked into the shadow, trying to make out the words of the Time God and others.
But he tripped. As if he were not injured enough, he tripped again. Only this time, there was something of use beneath his feet. There, hidden in the shadow and beside a broken jawbone, was the upper half of the Bear God's skull. The vestige was magnificent, stained in blood and studded in blue crystal, and as if by some religious motivation, the haruspex lowered himself to touch it immediately. Was he honoring the fallen god, even after having fought to defeat it, or taking this mask as a trophy? He was unsure. But the moment he touched it, it seemed to become a part of him, condensing into a faint blue crystal of a massive tooth that wove into his mane behind his poll. Somehow, he knew he could call upon it later.
When he drew himself out of the shadow then, hoping Maren was still at his side and vaguely seeking Badger to thank him, he felt renewed. In a strange, injured, pained, and half-dead sort of way, he felt alive.
He heard arguments and curses, he heard the groans of the hurt, but still he knew something miraculous had happened.
At the hooves of the Time God, he knelt in pure worship.
Ashamin thanks Badger and then wanders out of the water. He finds the bear skull left behind by Knox and Manhattan by chance. He bows before the Time God. Standing near @Maren , looking for @Badger.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
I'm like a prayer you whisper from your window to the world
_______________________________________
A stray glance over the shoulder as she hurried towards the sword and the creature that struggled with it revealed a miracle. She hadn't really aimed as she threw the shard of crystal at the rampaging bear, but by some miracle it had embedded itself into the remaining eye. Whether it did any good was hard to tell because the Winter God was already screaming, writhing and struggling in the merciless onslaught. Never the less, the child felt a thrill of a most peculiar feeling just then. Of pity towards the creature she had just injured in her first act of violence, of satisfaction that she had accomplished a goal... and of joy, because surely this had helped someone. In all this chaotic madness, surely there was someone who had been saved by her action, even if she wouldn't notice now or be thanked for it.
Invigorated by this notion the child hurried up her steps and carried on with the task of transporting the broken sword, proud to be able to hand it over to the sparking girl, the black and white one who fought so bravely. Erthë watched in awe as she dealt the final blow to the bear, shuddering in a sort of numb horror as the ground trembled and quaked beneath the crumbling god, so absorbed by its death throws that she got careless. Someone stabbed into the dying flesh of the monstrum and sent sizzling blood spraying through the air; droplets landed on her neck and face and Erthë screamed in agony as it ate its way through woolly hair and tender skin, burning an eye that never saw much into true, complete blindness.
She forgot about the battle then and didn't even notice how the Time God butchered the bear and handed out its body like macabre trophies. She felt neither left out nor forgotten even though her name once had been called upon to participate, had no notion of jealousy or injured pride. All she knew was that she'd had enough. Everything was enough; the scent of blood made her nauseous and the moans, cries and mutters of the warriors cut into her ears like sharp thorns. She wanted quiet, cold, someplace far away from the battlefield she never should have stood upon.
The foal ran sobbing from the carnage, longing desperately for her Mother and her warm, loving embrace.
Lines by Darya87
~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening posts |~
His moment of ecstasy did not last long, though thankfully it was interrupted. Forgetting his place, which was a battlefield to be exact, was a dangerous thing to do. Amid him bodies and chaos continued to unfold in the synchronized art form of war, and he, but a player on the stage that had forgotten his lines, was out of step. From the side a massive spike of ice erupted from the ground, breaking past his magical barrier perhaps because the wielder was far enough away (an interesting though to experiment on later...).
Still limp from his exercise, Öde flew like a doll amid the air, sailing from his four cloven hooves towards the ruby red waters and their equally tinted shores. He landed with a sickening thud, though the horrible sound was lost to the fray of screaming gods and insane mortals. His voice was silent, knocked from him with his breath, and his rib.
One had cracked, then speared upward from the force of the jostling fall, puncturing a lung. Like a fish that had crawled upon land the boy gasped amid a bloody froth, nostrils flaring like desperate gills but he could only wheeze in something akin to despair as he watched from sideways view the monument of the bear fall. He wanted to cry, not least of all from the pain he was slowly enduring, but he didn't have the strength or presence of mind left to do anything but wallow in agony.
Bit by bit, as the rest rejoiced, Öde slipped away into nothing. His corpse was easily missed down by the banks, particularly with a much more impressive cadaver nearby to oggle.
There was a certain beauty in passing away with the mighty spirit, and that last wonderful thought carried him into the abyss that he had visited a few times before.
Tag me only if starting a new thread. Magic or force permitted any time, including death - no decapitating. Be aware active magic doesn't work in his vicinity due to his magic!
Mauja felt it die, deep in his bones, a shudder the aether, a tremble in the world; with its passing breath the air grew lighter, clearer, the blood of the pool less thick. A few, hesitant birds began to sing, both a dirge and something glorious, of victory—perhaps mourning what the God had once been, and rejoicing that he was freed from the crucible of his own greed.
He saw Elding pull herself to her feet. Saw their own God of Time hand out gifts. Saw the divine carcass diminish.
He had even, dimly, seen the bizarre trajectory of a colt flung aside by his magic.
But then, he stopped caring.
Gods rose. Gods fell. He got burned. It was part of life.
"Irma?" he croaked, forgetting about the world, about the fight, about the pain like hammer blows on his left flank: forgot everything but the small, fragile bundle of dusty white lying safely between his forefeet, and the darkness he felt in her mind. "Irma," he managed to push her name out again, "Irm—", but it died in a sob.
She was so small, so perfect, a stray ray of sunlight sneaking past his body and striking the metallic blue of her feathers—but she was so cold, slipping further and further away.
Slipping, where he could not go.
"Irma, no, Irma," he blabbered, meaninglessly, dark muzzle pushing so cautiously against the owl; her breath was barely a breath, the valiant ticking of her heart just barely there.
Mauja had known many things in his life—and in some way, he thought that he had known fear. That he had known sorrow.
He hadn't.
The darkness yawned wider and wider, the threat of an existence without her spelled out in the weight upon his head; and he couldn't contain it anymore.
Fear spilled out between the cracks. Tears coursed down his dusty cheeks, each breath catching like a fucking sob in his throat as fear ate everything, and left only pure desperation in its wake.
"HELP!" he finally screeched, shrieked, casting about for anyone who could help him—who could save him—who could pull her back from the brink of oblivion and breathe warmth back into her.
08-30-2015, 04:08 PM (This post was last modified: 08-30-2015, 04:27 PM by Thranduil.)
Well that was stupid. Adrenaline. Invincibility. Strength. It all crashed about this…thing. A bear? It was hard to tell. Bodies hit him as other as the form crumbled. The golden, masked in black of Caleb, but still invisible could little tell where he hit or how far deep. All he knew was chaos. And heat. Something sprayed hot on his neck and foreleg, but there was little time, little thought. Everything was spinning. Then BOOM.
A shock wave, and the falling of the great body ended everything in a deafening silence.
With ears ringing the hidden man stumbles back. Heat grew, hotter, and hotter, till it BURNED. A yelp trembles softly on his lips as his stumbling body, with wings fluttering out uncontrolled, falls into some hidden shadow. Perhaps on its own it was not major, but confusion had quickly swept over him to worsen it all. He looks, trying to find the wound, but his body was not there. The irony of invisibility becoming a trap. It was not great pain, but it was unexpected and enough. The black mask quivers and falls like dust as his mind can no longer hold it. In the same pain he reaches back and grabs the invisibility cloak from his back. Pulling off to reveal the golden son with red hot burns along the side of his neck and right foreleg. Damnit. He had wanted a bit of fun of a hunt, but didn’t know it came at a cost.
He lay there panting for a moment, looking at his wounds, before easing himself back up. A voice, deep and bold of a God echoes out, as well as the voices of the rest of the crowd. A loud screech for help, and the groans of wounds and pain. He comes back into view from the shadowed pines. His neck held delicately low, and weight kept off his right leg. Yet as he looks about as the god gifts all the rewards he finds himself not the only wounded. Some were less off, but some were in much worse shape. Ophelia stood on bloody knees, and Mauja screeched about his crumpled bird.
He takes it all in slowly, like a mind coming out of a haze. One he hadn’t even realized he had been in. It is always amazing how a battle as large as this could hold such power. The God goes though, his gifts given, and thanks said. Slowly the golden was putting the pieces together. It helped that he was actually looking around now. A new land. New creatures. Healers are moving about but he does not wish them to his side. This wasn’t a proud war wound, it was a scorching burn. On the outskirts of the group he watches, but has it turned away. It was as frustrating as painful. He wanted to shake his head, and hold it high, but the sizzling burning kept it low and still, with his face strained. At least it did no smell as usual charred flesh. That might have driven him a bit beyond himself.
His cloak was half tucked in his satchel, the pain of twisting his head to put it in fully a little much. So the black cloth hangs out as he watches what goes on before him in a bit of a daze. His earth eyes staring out from one scene to another in a strained listless way, trying to remember exactly why he had decided it was a good idea to join this fun little party in the first place. They especially found their way to Mauja and his struggling companion. It twisting his gut slightly in a most unusual, and unknown cause. The identities he had snatched before with such thieving pride feeling a bit hollow now. Even this battle held little happiness at the end. (It would help if he had known exactly what they were fighting for still, but he was getting the idea slowly together.) In the end though they might have won, but it didn’t feel like a victory.
"talk talk talk"
OOC:: Thranduil, visible and as himself, is standing on the outskirts with a the side of his neck and right foreleg burned from blood. He's just watching. =] Anyone who wants can come say hi, but he's mostly hanging back.
Identities:: Isopia, Erebos, Cashmere
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
08-30-2015, 06:25 PM (This post was last modified: 08-30-2015, 06:26 PM by Maren.)
"This God... I think he is angered by our presence, I'm... I'm unsure.”
The waterfall played soundlessly in her ears as she focused on the words he spoke to enlighten her troubled mind. But somehow the storm was still raging in her head and that told her that perhaps... it was not enough. She gritted her teeth again, Ashamin moved towards her and brushed his cheek against hers, leaving more blood on her before so pearly white hide. But as she stood there she suddenly became slightly confused again. Is he blessing me? It felt rather gently... —But she still felt the pain and she still felt the frustration and her shadowing frown still crowned her eyes. Whispering her thoughts into his stained neck, she said: “Isn’t it the other way around?” (It was a good blessing, she decided, making sure to remember it.) “Your God took his land.” Speculation.
That was all it was. Perhaps it was just to early too ask questions.
She decided to seek him out later if needed, when this was all over, when she had her theories. Confirmed — or not.
She was’n’t a big fan of being commanded, especially in life-threatening situations she preferred seeking her own council. Nevertheless, she smelled it in the air too, so she ran after him, stretching her burned skin as she hurried out of the way of the falling god.
But as he did, in all of his ill and forsaken holiness, the landscaping started to change once again. This time not like she ran into another portrait, but rather into another season; a prettier one as if it had freed itself from sickness. It is over.
Her silent eyes still wandering, pulled in the sight of the unharmed little dove, making the Diviner smile. Then suddenly she felt the gaze of a God and towards her a small vial was thrown. She caught it in the nest of feathers on her crown and she took it to her eye. Held between two marble white feathers crimson red shimmered in the renewed sunlight and she wondered what it meant that the God of the Spark wanted her to have this in her possession. She was just putting it safely in the armpit of her left wing when she heard a sound from behind her. She hissed between her teeth when she saw the Haruspex faint or something and she hurried after him into the shadows were halo's glowed. In a quick glance she saw that he was still alive, but bent over a pile of bone. “Tell me you are only taking that to examine,” she said with judging raised eyebrows and disbelief. Although she had her doubts. “That is the carcass of an ill God,” she attempted to remind the priest with slightly pitching voice. As it became part of him, she turned around in irritation. She had had enough today and she was tired. “I will never tell you you look cool with that,” she mumbled shaking her head hopelessly as she turned her back to him. What do I care. She needed to seek out real answers, but where the God of the Spark had been was no one anymore.
The clash of the Gods in the mortal-world was over and the God of the Spark had gone home sweet home to his unharmed cotton-crystal palace. His people left with their wounds.
Again she held the vial of the dead Bear God's blood before her silent eye and she reminded herself: This is what my life is worth.
In her ears echoed shrieks for help.
She sighed and then turned her head to lick her burns. They stung and they itched when they didn’t bite and she needed to seek out the help of a healer, but something told her she would need to get in line.
The elephant’s charge had been successful- he had knocked the god and pierced his chest. Though he felt the rush of wind pass against his side, and snapping his gaze for the briefest of moments away from the battle, he saw a lightly built pegasus mare narrowly miss him. Azure gaze narrows, and his features- which were already tense with battle- became stormy. Thick black brow creases, jaw bulges as he grits his teeth. He pays no attention to the crystal shattering and imbedding on his back- adrenaline takes care of that.
He takes a step to advance on the small mare, his towering frame approaching her back- but he was halted by the shock of the godchild Roskuld. And the miraculous change which overcame the land, the death of a god, and the gifts of another. So he halted his advance, recognizing that their general had declared the battle over.
The vial of blood, attached to a white strand of string or hair, wrapped tightly around his horn. The glass clinked dangerously loudly against the ivory of his horn, and he eyed it warily. Though it did not shatter, and stayed tightly wound around his horn. An exasperated sigh escaped him- no good deed goes unpunished. Though he merely nodded in the direction where the Time God had vanished.
And returned his gaze to the golden and cream pegasus. “You, mare-“ his deep voice is angry, and carries well, “Now is an armistice. But I will not lightly forget your insult.” And then he dismissed her, as his attention was taken by the screech of his King.
Head snapped to the noise, and made quick work of the distance between them. Seeing the limo form of the once proud owl who had helped welcome him at the threshold, he snorted in consternation. “Mauja, one of our Edge healers? Some of them are winged- they could reach her quickly?” He takes a few steps in the direction of the Edge, and glances at his King over his shoulder in deference.
She had come too late. That much was evident as she swooped over the battlefield which had literally turned red below. The scenery was terribly foreign to her, but the site of war was not; its commotion what drove her towards it even as its last bits of chaos flew off like shrapnel. Outside of the herd she wasn't privy to Cathun's message, and looking down at it now it made little sense. The massive carcass of a bear was evidence enough, but the land itself was so strange and she couldn't remember having seen it on past patrols. Yet, there were so many Helovians present. At least some that she recognized, many from her own herd, though dozens more she had never seen - nor the likes of them at all. They seemed, alien.
She flew in closer, circling down to land once she spotted her desert dwellers, but she never quite made it to them, not yet. Instead her attention turned to the pained wailings of a pale stallion. His was the only cry if despair that reached such a volume. Many limped off and moaned about their wounds of war, while others still slithered off silently, no doubt to spread the news. This one though...this one, he was afraid.
The vague familiarity that he registered in her mind flashed over her again as she landed behind him. She wasn't sure what drew her to him; she had no healing magic, physical or otherwise. Instead it was like she was attracted to his grief, or perhaps just the strangeness of this one soul calling out while so many stood silent, or thankful, or awed. Like eyes which can't divert from a trainwreck so Ampere walked towards this speckled stud, Mauja, her wings seemed to whisper for her mind as they folded against her back.
Then she knew.
"What have you done?" she said int he softest manner possible. There, cradled by the blood colored ground lay the owl. Her paleness was striking against the backdrop of war that this land signified. It seemed to intensify her innocence, and in due part, Ampere's absolute rage. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" she screamed at him.
08-31-2015, 10:37 AM (This post was last modified: 08-31-2015, 10:37 AM by Rikyn.)
What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
The battle rides on, the sound of screams growing in their need, their pitch, their volume; it is a God, I think to still the trembling of my heart, which hears their bellows of agony as they are thrown aside and pitched into the clutches of death and bids my stalwart mind to run, a fair cost for the life of an immortal.
My brother is steadfast alongside me, his dark figure dancing in step with mine, and he does not tremble; from the corner of my eye, I see the figure of a black coated equine colt, younger even than me, charging with the ferocity of a dragon warrior – and my heart steels itself, my lips curve into a smile, pinned ears hearing victory in the bellows of the bear and somehow managing to ignore the screaming of the wounded, of the dying.
It happens in a flash, the death of the beast.
My horn arcs, its tip like a razor as it breaks through the flesh of the bear’s hind leg, the tendon popping with a sickening vibration that rattles down the length of my blade and into my brow. No sooner is my horn free of the hold than the dark pelted colt is upon the weakened leg, his propelled force knocking the massive paw from its weakened hold on the earth; the sizzle of blood fills my ears from where it tries to corrode the onyx and aureate of my horn as that paw knocks me squarely in the shoulder and sends me twirling away in a dizzy haze of pain.
I hear the tremendous thud of the God falling, I hear the cries of victory and the rattle of its breath through its severed throat, but I see only the crimson leaves above me twirling and occasionally glimpse a figure or two before I land roughly in the water, the benevolent arms of the liquid embracing me and protecting me from the fall.
Sluggishly rising to my hooves, my whole chest aching from the ferocious impact of the God’s leg, I sputter and spit, shaking my head to send droplets of water flying through the air.
More aware of what’s happening now, I look around me to find Aithniel unscathed (blessedly), but am slightly more horrified to discover that Erebos has not been so lucky. The colt that had felled the God with me has been released from the weight of the colossal bear by its disappearance and now moves towards the figure of the girl who had doused Aithniel’s flames – immediately embittering my thoughts of the colt that had, previously, been ones of admiration.
He had, after all, knocked a God over.
His choice in company?
Kinda shitty.
I’m distracted midstep (as I’ve started to go stand alongside Erebos, to make sure he is okay) by the sound of the Time God’s voice, and immediately stop to turn and hear what he has to say now that the immediate threat of the bear has been removed.
Many gifts are given, of which I’m jealous, but then his eyes land on me, his words fill me with a rush of pride that I’m sure radiates about me in a visible haze, so pungent is the swell of emotion that takes me. I let my body lower in a bow as I had seen my mother do when addressing a God, though my golden eyes glitter savagely and do not tear themselves from his figure.
Yeah, Erebos could have a crystal.
I had won the approval of a God.
I’m still oozing with arrogance as the revelry about the Time God fades away and life again returns to the clearing that had been held in rapturous silence of the death of one immortal and the gifts of the immortal who had claimed victory over him. I feel so good inside that I almost don’t want today to end, bounding over to Erebos with as much vivacity as can be managed considering how bad my chest and shoulder hurt.
"Did you hear that?" I’m saying to him with a laugh and a playful swish of my long tail, the sound clashing with the wail of pain and fear that comes from a unicorn who had been casting ice magic about the field that stills my laughter and draws my eyes, my ears falling back.
He’s looking at a small blue shape which lies between his hooves, one that is soft and feathered, and he looks afraid, afraid and as if his heart is breaking into a thousand pieces.
Glancing over at Erebos and looking for Aithniel, I keep my eyes mostly on the stallion and his dead companion. I had heard about such things happening, but have never seen it – and while I feel sorry for the stag (who looks like Mauja, from my mother’s stories, a tall man with a strangely colored pelt saying the name aloud almost as I think it), I am mostly curious to see how it plays out.
[ OOC: Mentions Volterra, Erebos, Aithniel, Tembovu, Isopia, and Mauja. o_o I think that's it. Also SAVE IRMA OMG ]
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.
It ended quickly, the mess of yelling and magic and bloodshed silencing abruptly as the great bear toppled to the ground. The babe runs off, sobbing, and the shadow lets her go, opting to return to his bonded's side. Copper child breathes heavy exhaustion, her strength given to maintaining and manipulating more magic in a smaller stretch than she ever has before. Nostrils are flared and eyelashes flutter; she pulls herself up on trembling legs, distantly pleased to see her patient also rise. At least she has succeeded there, her fire lending strength to one who needs it.
The God of Spark is handing out gifts, his attention shifting between certain individuals, skipping over others- why? The girl is not resentful but intrigued, confused, and would be angered were it not for the exhaustion piling behind her eyes. When so many fought so valiantly, how does the God determine who should be rewarded and who should not? Wouldn't healing, explanation, even a simple "thank you" be sufficient, to encompass all and leave out none? Had they truly fought for the right to material rewards? No- they fought for honor, and they all deserved to be repaid with as much, and nothing more.
She believes this until the God's eyes turn to her, and he thanks her personally, and a third flower blooms within her hair, and she blinks back tears of gratitude and pride, hypocrisy sliding easily into her stunned and staggered mind.
The girl she healed (his daughter, a part of her mentally notes) runs off, shouting. Copper child can only watch, irritation pushing a gold ear back, too worn down and too dazed to do anything more. For a moment she hovers on the brink of indecision - she longs to find her way to solitude, but the idea of moving is so powerfully heavy - when a piercing scream stirs her heart, making the choice before her easy. The Fire Dancer grits her teeth, exhaustion and aggravation tracing lines on her moon-slashed face, and turns, trotting, to the source of the cry, her kitsune brother leading the way.
At first she is blinded by bodies, figures who offer advice, or simply shout, none of them seeming to give any aid. The girl comes in close beside Ampere, peering over the smaller mare's back, and frowning, snarling, as the mare screams, an uncommon fury washing over her face. She is tired, and Ampere's constant dramatics are doing no good for her mental state. "Shut up, Ampere!" she hisses to the mare, a dangerous note in the alto tones. "This isn't about you."
Natraj slips between long legs and relays back images of what has occurred. A stallion, distraught, above the bloodied, twisted body of an owl- and the girl is reminded of Kali with a frightening jolt, panic and anger suddenly filling her veins, fueling her own. "Move!" she snaps, waif-like shoulders shoving against flesh, fire rising down her spine and in the air around her, ready to be called on in this moment of need.
Copper child falls to her knees, letting her nose dance across downy feathers and her dark eyes flutter shut. Her moonstone casts an eerie glow upon the fallen soldier, one which contrasts against the orange and red of glowing embers encircling the owl. Sparks settle and soak into body and wings, making swift work of broken bones, flowing like water from the slender body of the Sun God's priest. Silently she lets the magic work, tuning out the world around her, until it deems itself complete, the last tendrils of fire crawling back to their mistress in narrow coils. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes stay shut, but she is tired, not dying, and a faint smile crosses her lips. At her side her brother coils, stretching to be close to her, rubbing softly across moon-slashed cheeks and daring anyone to reprimand her now.
In the messy moments before his fall, The Oracle, overwhelmed by the brief hallucination that wreaked havoc on her mind, had been roughly knocked aside by a body she did not recognize. Stumbling into a nearby tree, her legs losing all coordination, the bark of the thick roots on her back clashed with the blood-red flora to otherwise soften the blow of her fall.
Tired eyes stared at the bloody ground as her mind scrambled to recover. Move; get up and move! it screamed at her, but she felt like a newborn foal, having nary an ounce of control over her numb limbs. The only thing she was inherently aware of was the throbbing acid burn that was a result of that caustic blood splattering over her neck and side. It consistently ached, but the smoldering tidal waves of pain washed over her in spaced out succession. If only she had been home... (had that place ever really been 'home'?) there would have been no question that she could have easily cured herself of this blistering annoyance.
But no. She had been cast away from her home and her God - thrust sloppily into a land not only did she not recognize, but one where some form of knowledge... enlightenment?... forced her mind to open her eyes. The anger, the frustration, the confusion - the sadness - overtook her mind, clouding her judgement and emotions. But amid her muddled thoughts, her limbs heaved the white mare to her feet, through sheer determination not to be trampled by the chaotic mess of a war that roared on around her.
And just like that, it was over. The ground shook when the massive bear - beaten, bloody, and dead - tumbled to the ground. He was overtaken by so many fighting bodies against him that the few that did fight for him, fought merely to delay his slaughter. A possibly laudable effort, but Cia was no longer sure.
She merely stood on the edge of the impromptu battlefield, having contributed so little but still confused by it all. So lost in her daze, she barely noticed the God of Spark had called her and another to approach him. Icy white and blue eyes stared at him, unsure what to feel for this apparent God that somehow forced all of this upon her (unintentionally, but of that she was not aware), but without conscious thought, her legs moved forward towards him. Skin prickled when his muzzle touched her, and it was in that moment that it all became utterly overwhelming.
The rush of visions - of the past, and not the future - hazed over her mind and eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, a feeling of a fist tightening around her esophagus and choking the air from her lungs. The entire battle flashed before her eyes - not within her memories or thoughts, but images that felt so amazingly real. The Oracle felt the acid burn singe her flesh once more, she heard the cries surrounding her as if she had been transported back in time. But in rapid-fire seconds, it was all over.
And the God of the Spark was gone.
Left even more confused than before, she turned away from the battle she participated so little in. Was this some form of blessing from a God who 'saved' her? Did she somehow owe him? Her visions had been ripped so abruptly away from her in the moments before she was thrown onto Helovian soil, but now visions of a different kind took their place. They felt somehow more real; somehow more physical that the ones of the future she was previously afflicted with.
Disorientated, she stumbled back to the edge where her hooves had been so firmly planted in previous moments. She heard not the screams of Mauja, nor the rage-bitten voice of Ampere. Her pupil-less eyes - ones that almost appeared blind, which was laughably unfitting for an Oracle - stared at the trees. So lost in her confused thoughts, she almost bumped into someone that stood nearby - Thranduil.
Startled and taken aback, she lifted her head to regard the odd stallion who appeared out of nowhere. "You weren't here a second ago," she stated matter-of-factually. "Is that another product of this... odd.. land?" she mused, referring to his magic of disappearing.
The Oracle - who had a giant, vine-infested tree growing upon her back and from her skin - dared to call someone odd. Comical.
OOC Mentions:@Thranduil (tagging because I feel like this is going to get easily lost; apologies), 'technically' Mauja and Ampere.
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62.5/62.5 HP
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
