"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.
Everything was looking up, for once. The rift gods were all but destroyed, one of them by her own powers. She was a god killer, destroyer of that corrupted brand of evil, and her father had personally congratulated her on her success. The Moon Goddess had learned the error of her ways, though she was strong and definitely could not be killed. Aithniel had learned that much. In all of this too, she had been there for the hatching of the companion egg her father had given, and the little griffin was bounding off through the water, using clever talons to hunt for grub.
Everything was going her way. Even the boils and sores were gone. Aithniel smiled - a genuine smile - for the first time in possibly her entire life. She let out a deep sigh and trotted across the sky mirror, her reflection a perfect image running just beneath, and she extended the length of her elegant, gull-shaped wings. The sun was setting just behind her, sky full of pinks and oranges and fire, a perfect back drop to her mood. A tassled lion tail swung behind her, waving languidly while she circled around the beauty of the Flats.
This is where she had killed the Rift God. This was the land of her father - a second home away from home. She couldn't describe anything more perfect than the magic of this place, bright colors just as vibrant as the real ones with no visible horizon. All the images blurred in the distance, as if she was dancing in a sphere - something never ending. Finally, she came to rest with long lashes falling to her cheeks, and she inhaled deeply, expanding her chest to the point of bursting.
"Yes," she murmured on exhale. No other word existed that could describe how she felt now - not really.
11-03-2015, 06:03 PM (This post was last modified: 11-03-2015, 06:04 PM by Reginald.)
speak
She is fresh and young—so ripe for the picking.
…She is also scrawny, but he looks past this for now, for the urgency of a thick, throbbing something in his blood snarls against the limitations of taste. She is a woman. She smells of a woman.
Good enough.
He watches her, her image plastered against the rays of a setting, dying sun; she is pale against the brilliance of golds and reds, wreathed in them even as fire ignites the pyre. Shadows lengthen even as she trots and gambols about, prancing along the boundaries of heaven and earth; she seems so happy, so thrilled and enticing in her energy, she does not even care that night will surely come to fall, and everything, everything will be dark soon.
An eagle cries in the distance.
(They know what happens when their master goes to hunt—)
He can catch her scent—laden with mud and salt water, but the sand of the desert is unmistakable on in the air about her. She is a herd member to him—one might even dare to call her family if Reginald had not found the idea so repugnant. He wonders, as he ever does, if a woman in the same herd is fair game to him; if womanflesh of the wilderness if forbidden now, and if there were any daring enough to stop him once he’s made his choice. He remembers that girl (Sia? Sica? He cannot remember her name—) and how she had fucked his brother under the covers of a grove’s sultry shadow. He wonders if those shadows had been a deliberate ploy.
…no matter. His thoughts grow sluggish as his blood begins to throb even harder. Her tail curls behind her as she moves, and he must recognize a smooth, well-formed gait when he sees it. Small she may be—but he sees how well formed she is.
He approaches. (They sense their master’s attack.)
Yes she breathes, and her smoky sigh raises as many questions as hairs along the back of his neck. He controls the shiver of anticipation; he controls himself. (The serpent is coiled.) “…Yes?” he repeats, his voice a masculine growl even as her’s is a purr, the question embedded in the lilt of his tone. Why are you so giddy, girl? Everything about him is granite and stone; powerful chest, muscled neck carrying a heavy, chiseled head held cocked in the guise of pleasant curiosity, those grey eyes sitting deeply in his skull, framed as they are by wild locks of his hair, glinting with something as he gazes at the sunset-clad filly.
Hmph. Filly. The term barely suits her—his nose tells him she is more than enough of a mare.
You can't escape the wrath of my heart
Beating to your funeral song
All faith is lost for hell regained
by: Kristi Herbert at flickr
Aithniel
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Had she known his thoughts, she might have been a little insulted. The fact that she was female couldn't be the only reason she had earned his attention, right?
His scent caught her nostrils first - musky and overpowering enough that she scrunched her mousy maw, making a face as she turned to see who he was. She recognized him a little, but she wouldn't go as far to say that she knew him. He was from the Dragon's Throat, just as she was, but she was not naive enough to believe that he was family. Aithniel knew that being in a herd did not make a family, and she also knew that she had little concept of what that word meant at all. She had been abandoned, dropped off and ignored.
The Sun God was her light now, her true father, and that was a reason to be glad. There were so many reason to be glad now that she didn't stop enjoying splashing around in liquid sun until this shadow beast approached, cloaked in silver and rather imposing in size. She was smaller, but she didn't much care. The span of her wings was longer than we was, and she lifted her neck proudly, long, black and gold tendrils of hair curling around her pale, alabaster skin.
His eyes stared at her in such a heavy way, as if his gaze was leaden and keeping her grounded. Yet that same expression burned, yanking the inhibitions from her mind while ever drawing her asunder. He approaches, and so does she. Aithniel was not a wall flower to coyly fan herself as the man came to her. No, she met him step for step, never breaking eye contact as she fanned her feathers, feeling them catch the breeze, fluttering and vibrating.
All of these feelings were strange and new, but no one had ever told her right from wrong. No one told her the consequences, and she couldn't give a damn either way.
She wanted this and wanted him.
His voice was gravel, nearly as stony as his powerful physique, and she smirked. "Yes," she replied, offering absolutely no other explanation. She wasn't trying to be a tease, but being a frustrating little shit was etched into her DNA in big, bright, neon letters. Aithniel flashed her tail around her haunches, releasing scents into the air which could speak more than her argumentative attitude.
The Dragon’s Throat is a land of fire, where the flames of a sunlit god burn for eternity. It seems her people are lit with such a flame, as well.
He does not know if it is fearlessness or naivety that forces her to meet him in this way—no matter. He is enthralled instantly, pulled into interest by her brazen step, her ashen eyes that blaze with something. She fans her stupid feathers about her, waiting for a beast, and Reginald wonders if it is a challenge.
Yes she says to him. Yes says her tail, as it arches. (She is a mare.)
A sunset is a quiet thing that flares about, the fanfare of the day’s finale. It caresses them, barely hesitant in its brilliance as it slides across the pale body, the rough edges of a man. It’s enticing, or threatens to be; the salt hangs heavy and eagles hold their breath, eager, anxious, curious in equal measure. (He hunts, he hunts, he hunts, they think.) Ka’Mate wonders briefly in his capriciously mad mind if he will ever feel this pulse in his blood, if his younger sister would be good practice later in life. Ka’Ora wonders (and fears) if master would allow such a thing.
This filly is fire; Reginald sees this. He does not know of her godsblood, of the veins within her that make her worth more than all of the jewels on the planet. He only knows she is of the Dragon’s Throat, and he wonders if, perhaps, she is a warrior. Whatever the case may be, he likes what he sees in her: tempered steel unafraid to look into the eyes of a serpent with a tongue that bites yes.
Finally, he wonders. A mare with a spine.
Tail lashes across his hocks; he catches her scent. She says yes, and he chuckles at the challenge, stones grinding in his throat as he—
--approaches.
[WUH I'm actually the worst .__. Also! I left the ending a little ambiguous because I didn't know how graphic you wanted them to be! We can take this further if you'd like or they could fade to black here!]
You can't escape the wrath of my heart
Beating to your funeral song
All faith is lost for hell regained
by: Kristi Herbert at flickr
Aithniel
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!