"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.
10-10-2015, 09:26 PM (This post was last modified: 10-10-2015, 09:31 PM by Thranduil.)
Silence haunted his steps, but unfortunately not his breath. Coughing and ragged hallow inhales made him an open target. But it didn’t matter to him. Those things don’t matter to those who have nearly lost their minds.
This mission was a clear sign of him getting close to that scary end. The sickness had followed him since the battle of GLL and ever since that rather fun event his life had taken one wrong turn after another. Literally. He took a wrong turn into the grove which held the rosen girl. A wrong turn into the Flats instead of the Throat. A wrong turn into a dying god. And a wrong turn to an untimely death scene. Honestly he was doing really well not to be singing on the side of cliff. Instead he was headed to the Throat to get his weapon back. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if that was better or not.
Unlike before though he came alone. Haldir, the dark deer who had kept his worried eyes on the golden for days, had his own terrible string of luck. His burned coat and the scene of death after the battle left him in no shape to continue. So when the golden insisted he return to Basin, there wasn’t much argument. Of course now that left the golden here, walking into practically enemy territory, alone, sick, and near madness. Brilliant move right?
Of course, there was some rather sympathy worthy reasoning here. The golden, as he followed the coast along, hacking, coughing, and in general looking like walking death, was trying to cope. You laugh but take this consider this. He was the golden son, the Laurelin Lord of the north. A land and title of force, power, and threat. He was a master of his mind, body, and the world about him. Yet in the battle he had fallen to some illness. In the Basin he had fallen to some blind enemy of old. In the battle he had fallen into uselessness. In the aftermath he had fallen to old nightmares. For days, weeks, months, he was being beaten down and rendered helpless. Events and horses were spinning around him out of his control. And that, not his illness, not his old wounds, was killing him.
The golden was the master of lies, wrapping himself in them tighter and more snug so they fit him like his golden coat. But the world was hard on the golden coat. It has gone dirty, dingy, covered in sand and now in blood. The Laurelin, usually a picture of stunning shine and cleanliness, was a mess. And so were the lies. The lie that his past did not happen struck him. The lie he was invincible. The lie he had no ties to this world. It was all a mess of tangled threads. He was growing desperate, and desperation leads to the strangest rationalizations.
The double blade. It was a weapon, but it was quickly becoming so much more. Stolen from a harpy’s nest, and polished till it shined, it became a beloved prize. He had practiced it, and sharpened it, then carried it into battle to great effect. Yet it was stolen. Snatched. Taken. And in an instant he had become this. This coughing, shivering hag constantly reminded of his heart. And he was sick of it. He couldn’t handle it. It was driving him mad. So to get the weapon back, that would be a start. To walk up to the borders of the Throat where that bay bird was sure to reside (as she had been so supportive of Gaucho) and demand it back. That would be something he controlled. That would show power. That bring back some form of the golden, the Laurelin.
It wasn’t exactly turning out like he had pictured. The golden in his wobbling gait comes to the gated border cliffs. He stops short, coughing roughly to the side, and rubbing the draining blood upon his foreleg stained with the travel’s struggle. To the cliffs he comes, and at least a small kindness shines on him. The wind rushes up from the water below blowing him his face some fresh air, waking his sense up a little more. Crowned head rises to more acceptable levels, and he inhales deep, and lets loose a bellow. It is short, for good reason, as it sends him in another fit. But as he looks back he accepts the madness, thinking this would actually be intimidating enough to demand some person he did not know to do something that was unlikely to happen. Such is madness.
OOC :: For Megaera and who ever else wants to come for the stick exchange. Also if a healer minds coming and relieving the poor bastard, you're more than welcome. XD
"speech"
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.
GAUCHO
Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse.
DIBS GAUCHO HEALING.
The breezy ocean winds brought Thranduil's call easily over the gulf that separated the Dragon's Throat from Helovia-proper. For a moment Gaucho couldn't discern who it was who was calling, but a look to the west confirmed the identity. Still, Gaucho was surprised to see the golden stag roaming solo - as was Vorsa. The brightly coloured phoenix hooted sadly to see that the small deer didn't accompany the golden. On flaming wings, Gaucho easily crossed the tumultuous sea that protected the Throat from intruders. However Thran was no such intruder. (not ...your....enemy...)
Landing on the opposing shore, Gaucho folded his wings easily against his darkened flanks, and moved amicably towards the unicorn. "Thran-dool" He called out, having never mastered the articulation needed say the stag's name properly. "Vorsa want to know where small deer is - " then, pausing, the Sultan tilted his horned skull. "Why look so ... bad?"
Gaucho knew that Thranduil had been at the most recent other-wordly battle, but the dun didn't know how the golden had fared. The Wildfire and the rest of his flock had left that battle relatively unscathed. There were a few for whom injuries had been a problem, but nothing substantial. And now that the Sun God had blessed Gaucho with his own healing abilities, the Sultan worried about it even less.
Still, neither of those two questions addressed why it was the Golden was once again on his borders. Gaucho had not heard from the Basin since Hotaru and Deimos had last visited, leaving the dun to assume that everything remained as neutral as last they had left it, between the two herds. Was Thranduil here diplomatically? Or perhaps ... socially? The thought made Gaucho's dark lips twitch with a half smirk.
10-12-2015, 12:00 AM (This post was last modified: 10-12-2015, 12:06 AM by Megaera.)
Well, the Sunpear was good and knocked up now. It had taken a while for her to be sure but the subtle increase to the curve of her sides could no longer leave her in doubt that she and Einarr had done more than stake their claim on each other in the shipping flats, but they had created something knew as well. For the most part, Meg was filching high, literally and metaphorically, but t was also true that the shift in hormones was doing a number on her. She’d already had a temper, but the changes in her body had made he more volatile then ever.
All it took was the sight of the golden form on her near her shores to trigger an overwhelming protective instinct and Megaera was dropping from the sky. It didn’t matter that Gaucho’s fiery form was already there and if he spoke an amicable greeting to the stranger, it was lost to the rush or air in Meg’s ears. Messed had been one thing, She had forgiven the demigod’s blood for the sake of herd ties but thus unicorn had no such protection. She had seen him grovel at the feet of the Moon Goddess and in Meg’s book there could be no blacker mark.
The hormone-raged mare landed on the rocky ground and rolled immediately into a gallop towards the intruder. Perhaps if he had come a few weeks sooner she might have been able to hold herself back. She’d grown so much recently in controlling her more impulsive tendencies; had been forced too, if she was to become the Sultana she knew the Throat deserved, but by some unlucky star this stallion had picked the wrong moment to show his face. Megaera was nothing if not protective of the things she loves and just now that maternal instinct was kicked into high gear, not to mention his association with what she perceived to be the biggest threat to her family. The Goddess and malice of lack of compassion, whichever it really was, had already hurt several close to her heart and Meg would not allow her or her slim agents to do so again if it was in her power to stop them.
Completely ignoring Gaucho’s presence she aimed her body toward the other, skidding to a halt feet from him. Every bit of her form displayed open hostility: from her head that hung low, ears flat and teeth bared, to her wings that stretched to either side, feathers splayed, to the black tail that threshed behind her. She sent a snap of teeth towards the golden man’s face, a fair warning, and growled her displeasure “You’re not welcome here.”
OOC // Bitchiest Bitch-Mode you ever did see… Gotta love them hormones :P @Thranduil @Gaucho
It was perhaps a good thing he was going mad because the scene he quickly found himself in surely would have brought it on. In his dull state he barely hears the great beast till he’s right above. A shadow, yet flame flashes before him and the gold yields a step back as the great creature lands. Great, just what the golden needed. The Wildfire coming in. Usually the gold was up to the challenge a ballet about this dun would require, but not today. Not in this state. So the golden, swallowing hard in his dry throat and inhaling deep, prepares for the worst.
But the golden had forgotten a most key fact. That problem had been fixed. The Wildfire tucks his wings and with even a pleasant air walks forward. Muddled mind staggers slightly. Even in this state of madness he’s inner senses protect him. Even as all is unraveling in madness some inner sense remains for it was born in madness. “Gaucho.” The rough and ragged voice speaks. Earth eyes still watch slightly suspiciously. Perhaps it would have been better to bring Haldir along, the deer always seemed to remember things the golden could not.
Whatever had turned the great dun around, the golden wasn’t going to question it too long. Something along the line had worked apparently. Still he was glad the dun seemed to be the talkative one today. Being as slow and lost in his thoughts as he was, it saved the conversation. And while his system was slow he still had the urge to remind the dun that there had been wars recently. Maybe he hadn’t heard? “Wars-“ He voice threatens to wobble but after a pause he continues. “Wars have costs. Haldir is home.” A scratch rises in his throat, but his pride moves it to just a rumble. It wasn’t as elegant, snappy, or witty as he had hoped but it would have to do. Of course that wouldn’t matter much as another shape appeared on the horizon, and it was coming in hot.
That threatening landing that had he had faced so much in this land was seen once again as the mare crashes to the ground and keeps coming. Fuck. The golden leans away, glancing at Gaucho, but the mare keeps coming, and showed no sides of stopping. Harks pin back but he’s in no position to counter, as the mare slides, her teeth reaching out to snap. Her hot breath rolls on his golden cheek as he jerks it away. Her snappy comment getting lost in the aftermath, as he balance becomes threatened, and all goes towards retaining it. Back strains from the hits of the battles, and his limp form wavers like paper in the wind. He stumbles to the side, head falling away low, and the pressing force on his lungs could not be held back any longer.
Well this wasn’t exactly going to plan. The golden is still for a moment, then wiping his bloodied lips on his leg slowly rises back up to face the air of tension. It was very good indeed he was part mad. The utter strain of the position he found himself in was not too devastating, and the usual long string of thoughts that would have run through his brain were cut to a sweet, and short: Fuck.
So he looks back up and takes in the scene he can only groan slightly. OH WAIT. This is her. This is the bay bird that stole his blade. The golden lifts his harks back up, the realization bringing some life back into him. “You.” The madness, the need to get the blade back drove him, pushing back any threatening pressures of his sickness. Then a flame flirts in his vision and he looks back to Gaucho. Oh, right, new Gaucho was here. “She stole my blade” he struggles to hold back a cough “as I fought in the battles.” He turns back with surprising venom for the amount of threat he body could actually bring. If you looked close you might see the venom was only building upon the growing madness. The politics of the gods were beyond his reach, but appealing to the sun loving Throat birds was still a possibility. “At the Flats- for the Sun God- Haldir fell wounded because I had it not.” Rather, the golden fell, but he was far from admitting that. Of course it was clear from his dirt filled hide that he too had ended up on the ground. His madness knew little bounds.
A breath strained, but on the inhale, some dark force kept away the rich sea air and he surrenders coughing again, only this time a dark line comes from his nose as well. When his head rises again, the fight is clearly robbed from him. Maybe they would just feel sorry for him?
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.
GAUCHO
Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse.
[SO SORRY. WHY DON'T YOU TWO YELL AT ME MORE ;-;]
Gaucho's blue-stripped shoulders shrugged in agreement. War certainly did have its costs - and yet Gaucho thought that the Golden one looked far worse than even the perils of war would suggest. Vorsa tittered sadly, wanting to see the small deer again. She found that most companions mirrored their bonded's - were boring and stiff. She just wanted someone to play with, and Haldir seemed ideal. It didn't strike her small mind as particularly fair that he hadn't come along, and so she sulked sadly on her own in response.
Before Gaucho could say anything more, Meg landed in a spray of aggression and hostility. The dun's steely gaze narrowed skeptically, as she growled that Thranduil was not welcome on their borders.
Their borders.
"This Meg, Sultana of Dragon's Throat." Gaucho responded, his dark tones fairly neutral as he introduced the Sunspear to the Laurelin. Although he knew not why Meg was suddenly and so violently upset that Thranduil was here, he trusted her implicitly with most things - and protecting their borders was certainly amongst them. Still, Thranduil was by no means trespassing. The lands had borders precisely so that one would know where to venture and where not - and this vague line between the ocean and the Heart was a part of the Throat - but it was also the only part of the Throat Thranduil could enter to ensure that his presence would be noticed.
"He not trespassing yet." Gaucho corrected, looking at Meg. There was no accusation in his voice - simply an observation. He would let her handle the situation as she pleased. In that, they were truly equals. His tenure over her did not extend to his decision making.
As Thranduil mentioned that Meg stole his blade, Gaucho snorted. "Meg a spy now?" He offered in jest, wondering why the mare needed to resort to thievery, when it was her battle-prowess which landed her at his side.
The golden stag was much diminished since she had seen him last, bruised and bloodied from battles and who knew what other misfortunes. It seemed that there was a sickness that held him in its grip, for as the creators tried to babble out an appeal to Gaucho his words came in between a series of wracking coughs. Even in such a state, the creature stirred no sympathy in the heart on the irascible sultana.
Drawing up to her full hight, little as that may be next to these two stallions, the Sunspear kept her eyes fixed on the golden. Her stare was a solid wall of disgust and disdain only breaking when she glanced at Gaucho when the Wildfire broke his silence—it was a pity that the Wildfire didn’t think to inform her of this would-be intruders status as well, but Meg took Gaucho’s introduction as a go-ahead. Sultana of Dragon’s Throat… DAMN STRAIGHT, BITCH! The crumbling man seemed to look to Gaucho to shield him from her wrath, trying to make it sound as though it was he that had been attacked without provocation. She laughed at that, a single cold bark of derision that was so very unlike the Sultana. Meg took a confident step towards Thranduil; whoever he is, she thought, he had power here. “I wouldn’t call it thievery to stop a blade in its path toward one of my own, and don’t think to try and pass off fighting for the Moon as an honorable endeavor.”
She leaned even closer, dark eyes burning with a steady and threatening fury, unconcerned of catching the sickness she had already been rid of. “First you threaten Cera’s life with your dumb stick and now dare to bring your sickness to infect my herd?” Her words dripped from her mouth slowly, each one inching more towards a growl. It didn’t matter that her side were beginning to swell with child, it didn’t matter that this creature, already so beaten, would make for a poor opponent, she wanted little more than she wanted to grind in into the dust and ensure this slimy agent of the Moon could never disturb her piece of mind again. “Give me a reason why your blade shouldn’t be the only thing I take from you.”
12-08-2015, 10:46 PM (This post was last modified: 12-08-2015, 10:49 PM by Thranduil.
Edit Reason: MY LIFE FOR TAGS
)
When he raised his head again, it was dulled and cowed. That mare could bite, kick, stomp, and screech and it wouldn’t do her much good now. He had burned out faster than a firecracker, and now there was nothing but the hallow shell. And worse, nothing left to stop the madness from engulfing him into thinking that somehow, he still had enough sway in this to get, no, demand what he wanted. Sultana. The calm words of Gaucho are almost missed in the chaotic atmosphere. She was there Sultana. The golden’s level head lets one ear fall back as if unsure. This fiery, hot tempered, ill mannered woman was the one Gaucho had chosen to lead his precious family. The gold snorted, that was worse than choosing him for Lord. Of course considering the situation he was a bit biased in that opinion.
In fact, Gaucho seemed to enjoying this little spat. He even teased the woman. The golden does not look his way anymore. This Gaucho, this firebird without threat he did not know. And oddly enough did not trust. It was a shame those his mild manners didn’t rub off on the mare. She kept right on. With shallow breathes, and broken fight, he exactly in a position to keep up with her. Not on that level. So as she gives a haunty bark, and takes a step towards him, he doesn’t even move. Was she trying to insult him? Humiliate him with this? Surely she should know all cares of that had vanished with he decided to come out in public like this.
She begins to lecture him. Or something. Honestly the gold was doing good just to breathe right now. So her exactly message, other than her tone, sort of got lost in translation. He hadn’t expect to be so spent so quickly. It wasn’t in the plan. So now what. He needed that blade. He had to have that blade. It would fix everything. But he wasn’t going to get it like this. He hadn’t the strength to fight or lie. But there was…one…other way.
His consideration of it mulled, but when she leans in closer, he focuses. Unable to lean back for threat to his risky balance, the gold can only stand there, staring back. His mind floats off, and instincts take over. If someone was this close there was opportunity to be had. He inhales, shallow but slow, and gears click and lock in. Dare bring his sickness? He snorts, the only protest he could raise. He was like this because he didn’t have any damn defense. (Or so his mind said to him). Besides, he prayed as he thought of his shallow breath rolling over her, what a treat if she got it. It would cost him, and a weight presses in his chest again. Not now. He was growing desperate within, reaching for anything, but finding it all broken. There was no other choice. He loved it so, but it still was insulting to have to call upon it. To admit his natural skill was not enough.
She delivers her ultimatum. And well, he has to remind himself in the madness of the seriousness. The idea she could take anything else from him was…well a laugh. What was she going to do, take his health in a fight? Well someone beat you to it honey. Robbed the store before you. But this was a serious occasion, and he had only one chance to make this work. “Easy Sultana, I am in no state to argue, but I believe you are mistaken. I was not attacking.” Here goes nothing, the magic swelled upon his gilded lips. “I was saving your family by shoving them from harm. This sickness and wounds could have been there’s. My blade did not touch their hides.” The last line did not need the magic. It was truth already. In this his memory was as sharp as his blade, sharpened by the desire to retrieve it. It had only cut into a mare of the Falls, a dark one. Really he should be embarrassed. He was a lousy shot that day.
Now he holds his breath, still distrusting this magic gifted him. Well he was sort of holding his breath anyway. In case you forgot, the golden couldn’t actually breathe at the moment.
OOC :: Thran is using his rank magic, guilded tongue, in the gold text.
"speech"
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.
GAUCHO
Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse.
The dun's ears perked forward with instantaneous force as Meg indicated that, in fact, Thranduil had been harming his family with the blade in question.
And not just his family, with all of its wide-spread domain. But Cera. Cera who had been like a son, and then more like a brother.
Cera.
Gaucho's jaw clenched together and his steely gaze matched Meg's in intensity. Thranduil's magic might have preciously masked the tension that lay between the golden and He, but this new grievance was not so magically privileged. Fire sparked and burned higher on Gaucho's wings and fury bled and fueled Gaucho's system. Whatever justification the golden might offer was irrelevant. There was no alleviating such an egregious error. There would be no riding out this storm.
There would be no-
I was saving your family by shoving them from harm. This sickness and wounds could have been there’s.
The word rang true with an immense sort of certainty. It filled the pockets of Gaucho's rage with sand which dulled and tapered away his vengeful flames. Protecting them? The magic flooded Gaucho's veins with appreciation in the service that Thranduil had offered to his family.
"Thranduil protecting Cera?" He asked, rebounding the question back to Meg with a surprised glance. If that was the case, then why did the brown mare possess the sword which had saved Cera? For Gaucho had seen the golden prince, and he was not ill.
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