"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.
11-16-2015, 05:33 PM (This post was last modified: 11-16-2015, 05:36 PM by Knox.)
She feels heavier, now that she's dead.
This is not the first time she has ridden upon her bonded's back, but it will be the last. And it is the only time she will lay across it breathless--already beginning to rot. Her fur is matted and her eyes have been cemented shut with blood. When Knox steps and her body shudders along his spine, it looks like she is still breathing.
Milo was scared, at first. Knox could tell just by looking at the boy that such a sight was not one that should be forced upon him. So he had bent down, said, "Milo, I am going to help. I will make your eye quiet. I need you to trust me. Stay close, listen, and follow me home."
And though the golden look that was returned perfectly explained their relationship, that there was no reason for Milo to trust his father, Milo obeyed and stood perfectly still. Knox watched as silver slipped into his son's left eye. "Stay on my right, son," he'd whispered in comfort.
"Stay on my right," for the rest of your life.
So they walked. Knox ahead, certain that this was the best place to go. He had thought of taking her to the dark woods where they had found each other, but he did not know if he could ever go there again. There was nothing for him there, let the wings and his fathers bones rot in solitude.
Milo on his right.
I, no she, no I no, Manhattan on his back, looking like she was still breathing.
So we no they just they walked. Towards home, towards Aylin, towards the family and love promised and the reunion minus one. Knox had unfinished business, he had to return.
Heavy is the heart that beats beneath the corpse of its love. Heavy is the body that must carry home its only friend's body. Heavy is the mind now abandoned by its crutches. Heavy is the hunter without his bow.
They are heavy always, but they arrive. They arrive with that business still left undone, Milo with his left eye blind to the horror of a corpse. They are waiting for the missing piece of their family, but they know they won't have to wait long.
You've been in the Foothills for so long and you have no idea where your son or Knox are. There is a part of you that is glad that the two seem to spend so much time together, but a bigger part of you longs for Milo to spend just as much time with you. He's growing up so fast, you can't really see it, but in the times when he is with you you can feel it and it makes your heart ache. You wonder if your mother felt the same way while you and your brother were growing up (in the brief time that you spent with her) and you wonder if that feeling of sadness will ever go away or if it will continue to grow along with your son.
"Milo!" You call out for him suddenly, your ears tilted forward as you listen to the fading echo of your voice. You hope, you pray that he's close and will hear you, that he'll answer you. You hope that if he is that he'll run to you so you can embrace him and hold him because it is what you need right at that moment.
When you hear no answer you frown and you begin to wander from the very heart of the herd that Knox had brought you to when you were pregnant with his child. Your hooves carry you toward the borders, but it is probably only dumb luck that you're heading in the right direction. Your movement is slow, each hoof placed carefully so you do not trip over some obstacle in your path or step off the side of a cliff (because you still don't really know what the layout of the Falls is like)
"Milo!" You call out for your son again, but this time you also call out two other names and hope that one of them answers you. "Knox! Manhattan!"Please be close. You hope and wish as you wait silently for one of them to hear and answer your calls.
12-14-2015, 10:31 AM (This post was last modified: 12-14-2015, 10:37 AM by Knox.)
The moment that he sees Aylin--before she calls out for him--he releases his magic hold on his son. Milo stumbles forward, greeting his mother in silence, and the cold dark shadow of Knox watches in silence. Slowly he sends forth his magic to find her in the tangled wood, even as she emerges and appears before him. The silver smoke is seeking, searching. When it finds Aylin's eyes, it will fix her. Perhaps they will never look the same as they once did, perhaps Milo's eyes will not mirror hers as they were born to, but they will see again.
And this is all he can do, because when Aylin calls his bonded's old name, his heart breaks.
He falls to the earth again and the heavy body begins a slow descent towards the earth as it slips from off his shoulders. It leaves a trail of thick drying blood, and a pattern of it upon his back from where her body rested. By the time she falls to the earth, a thin cloud of dust rising around her, Knox is weeping.
"Aylin..." he breathes her name, his sides shuddering and muddling the sounds of it. "Ay... ayli-i-in...". He says her name through sorrow, reaching for its tender love. How kind she has been to him, how much she has adored him and forgiven his transgressions. What a sinner he is, what a martyr she has been. She has given up so much for him, he cannot even begin to think of all that she has. All he knows is that he has failed her, as he failed Manhattan. He remembers what she wanted, for him to love his family as he loved this broken body of a dog, and he knows it is his only chance to redeem himself.
For a long time, Knox wondered what love is. Only upon losing it did he know that he had always had it. Only without it does he realize how much of it he has turned away. He looks up, searching for the eyes of the mother and son that he needs now so dearly. He needs them to love, he needs them to understand. And he is sorry, for one of the first times in his life, that he has failed them. He is sorry that Aylin wanders lost in the woods, that Milo stands crooked to avoid the pain the plagues his every turn and bend. He knows these things are his fault. But when he tries to speak, tries to tell them, nothing comes out. As his son has forgone speech for life, Knox has forgotten it for a time. He tries to speak, but only a painful cry--a scream-like contorsion that rings through the falls and matches the haunted call Roanne once used to gather his herd in the Mystic Woods--emerges from between his lips.
I have carried my father's shed skin from the isles to our home. It hangs from between my lips even when we arrive: a tangled, torn vestige of the bridle he once wore with deadly pride. I understand through silence that it is mine to keep. I understand through something deeper, the eerie glow that it emanates, that I should never dare to put it over my face.
Something about that old leather is cursed.
Neither my father nor I have the education to understand the strange coincidence of the tear--the left side break that matches the one sported by its owner before my father. Once there were scars beneath the material and now there is nothing but the entrance to my mouth.
I listened to father, I followed his commands. I met his eyes. Now we are home, back in the falls, and I hear my mother calling. As if drawn forward on the wind I drop the bridle. It is not so important, not. I stumble forth to greet my mother: I have to see my mother.
Father's magic leaves me and my eye returns to broken gold. When I find her I reach for her, exhaling a soft, comforting sigh. Something terrible has happened, something I will never forget, but I know that my mother cannot yet see it. Before she must, before father works his magic on her, too, I will give her the comfort she needs to go on.
When father falls again I do not look back. I hear the quiet thud of Manhattan's body. Dog. She's gone, now. I understand that, I think. The body is here but the soul is lost. I don't think I'll ever forget such a thing. ""
I am not sure if it is
BETTER OR WORSE
to know all that I do
Perhaps in Mandrake were still alive, dictating the lives of her sons, none of this would have happened.
Perhaps Callisto would not have been lost to early snow.
Perhaps Circe would not have fallen at the hooves of puppet-Gaucho, to the darkness of the Moon Goddess.
Perhaps Manhattan would still be here, trotting carefully at Loretta's side with fresh kill between their jaws.
Perhaps they would have been more careful.
Perhaps they would all be dead.
The Dauntless shook his head slowly as he walked, a silent, stone sentinel behind his younger brother. The Czar followed to protect the broken colt--stallion?--as he walked, truly alone for the first time in his life. Even with Archibald's impressive bulk behind him, shepherding him home, Knox was alone and the brother knew it. Loretta knew it, too. The thoughts shuddered down her spine, sorrow clogging her airway. She could not cry into the wind as she so wished. No, her voice was gone. Her heart was torn. Her sister was gone.
I've never felt my own pain. She whispered into her bondmate's mind, her voice sounding tired and worn. It's always been your's.
If Archibald were not such an impenetrable fortress, he would have winced at her comment. For her entire life, Archibald's job had been to protect her. When she stumbled across his path and their eyes met, two pillars of gold and amber, their hearts and souls entwined only to be broken by death. She had a front row seat to all of his experiences, all of his triumph and loss. She had shared in the joys and sorrows of his children, and had shared in the heartbreak of the loss of his love. Now, however, as they walked slowly behind their siblings, it was her pain that swallowed their hearts. Archibald, for the first time, was overwhelmed by the sickening, deep sorrow that corroded the strings of love within his canine.
And it fucking hurt.
When they finally stopped in their lush green home, Archibald stayed some paces off. The silver girl was the one Knox sought, the one he and his son needed. Archibald was nothing for him now. There was no need to open his mouth and let useless condolences fall from broken lips. Loretta slumped to the forest floor at Archibald's hooves, head falling into the loamy soil. Her amber eyes closed and her chest wavered, silent sobs racking her body. Archibald's face was cemented in a cold, empty tomb of emotionlessness. Golden eyes watched as the colt ran to his mother, and watched as his brother fell to the earth before his mate--lover?
He remembered the scene in the snow, with his own massive body wrapped around the lifeless corpse of his firstborn daughter. The Dauntless let his head hang low as he watched the scene before him, remembering how cold the first snow felt upon his dark hide.
"She deserves a warrior's burial." He finally let his mouth release, but his voice was cold and tired.
ARCHIBALD THE DAUNTLESS
What won't kill me- makes me / What won't love me- hates me
What won't kill me - dies
Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
live your life just like a dream without the pain of goodbyes
You're so used to seeing the world as little more than a dark blur that when your vision suddenly comes back you freeze. Your entire body is tense and you stand still as a statue because you expect your vision to disappear as quickly as it reappeared. When it doesn't you feel a burning in your throat as you choke back a sob because you can finally see and the first thing that you see is your son. Your beautiful little boy. Your Milo. You dip your head down as your son reaches you and you pull him tight against your chest. As you hold him tears roll down your cheeks and disappear into his dark coat that so perfectly mirrors your own and Knox's.
"Knox." As you say his name you lift your head and you look for him. When you finally find him you wish that you were still blind so you wouldn't have to see him in such a state. "What happened?" You ask your son, but you don't wait for him to answer you because as you asked you see Manhattan's body. You see Archibald, his face solemn and his companion and you know that whatever happened was bad.
You leave Milo and you move toward Knox because you cannot ignore the way his anguish pulls at your heart, and you cannot fight off your desire to comfort him. As you move closer you can see how still Manhattan is, how her chest does not rise and fall with her breaths. You hear Knox's voice as he says your name and you wish that you could take every ounce of pain he's feeling away from him. You wish that it was your burden to bear because you absolutely hate to see someone you love in so much pain, but there is so little that you can do.
Archibald speaks, but you barely hear him. All of your attention is focused on Knox (you notice that his bridle is gone and you wonder when that happened) and his pain and your desire to take it away. You drop to the ground next to him and you reach to touch your muzzle to his neck to let him know that you're there. You want him to know that he's not lost in the darkness, that he still has some of his light right there with him.
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[P] Reunion Minus One / The Beautiful Remains of Love
