"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.
Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,
And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.
The desert island didn't look anything like she had imagined it. Desert rather implied arid landscapes full of sand and dust and scorching heat. And it was indeed a lot warmer here than in the Edge, where nights had grown frosty and the leaves were changing colors so that the forest painted an illusion of being set ablaze under the morning light. But rather than sand, dry rocks and shimmering mirages, she found a landscape that shimmered in emerald hues, an island beyond the sea that rivaled the Riptide Islands in verdant abundance of water and life. Awed, the young dove circled through the air by the borders of this marvelous realm and let her gaze absorb everything in this foreign land, from the red cliffs by the sea to the beaches, the sapphire blue of sea and sky and the blinding sunlight that radiated down upon it in abundance.
No wonder her mother had chosen to stay here in her youth. The sky seemed so much taller here, the horizon closer than ever; tantalizingly so, as though it wouldn't be impossible at all to reach it and finally discover what was on the other side. In the far distance, Erthë could make out the glitter of water amidst tall trees, swaying in the morning breeze. An oasis, perhaps, nestled by the roots of a giant tree, so red that the color reached her even from this distance. Oh, it was beautiful, in a melancholy and heart-wrenching way. As she lowered herself in wide circles towards the ground, she thought of how the place must look at night. How big the sky must be, how dark and how bright the stars must shine. A shudder rippled over pearly skin at the thought, a breathless smile teasing over silky lips as she gently, gingerly stepped onto foreign soil.
Ocean winds ruffled through shimmering curls as she gazed about in avid curiosity, the vast wings folding neatly to the sides as she waited for someone to notice her presence. It was a beautiful day, surely someone had to be up and about already, even if it was early still. She was in no hurry, but patience still wasn't one of her more defining traits and it had been so long since she had seen her uncle Badger. The sooner she got to hug him the better - she had missed him lately and they had things to talk about. The kind of thing you didn't really want to discuss with a dad or someone you saw every day, healer or not.
So she waited, humming a happy tune and laughing at the play of seagulls in the salty wind.
My wanderings around the Throat are aimless; my halter is stuffed full of all the herbs I could possibly need, and my stomach is full with rich autumn grasses. I walk for the sake of walking, to keep myself from growing fat and slovenly - or, should I say, from growing fat and slovenly again. My first almost-year in Helovia has trimmed me down to a shadow of the man I once was, and when I look at myself in mill ponds, I see a different man looking back at me.
The only link to my former life is the tatty, ragged halter on my face, worn down by the elements. Part of me wants to ask one of my herdmates if their companions can remove it for me, as a symbol of how I've embraced the call of the wild. And yet the rest of me wants that solitary tie to my human life, to the eight years I spent in their company. I love my new life, but sometimes in my dreams I yearn for the one I left behind.
That rarely lasts long, though. I am lonely sometimes, but with a herd behind me and the prospect of Erthë to love like a daughter, my melancholy moments rarely last. When the scent of her reaches my nose, I feel my face split into a grin, and my body immediately breaks into a bumpy canter in order to speed my travels towards her.
There she is - she's grown up so much, but that doesn't stop me seeing her like the sweet little girl that I helped bring into this world. I approach with a loud whicker of greeting, extending my muzzle to try and touch softly to hers. I'm blowing slightly from my canter, but a lot less than I used to when I was carrying around almost a whole other horse in fat. "Erthë!" I exclaim happily. "What are you doing here?" Trespassing doesn't even cross my mind - what herd could get upset with this sweet little girl paying a visit?
Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,
And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.
She saw him coming from afar like a shadow slipping over the ground. With any other horse the darkness of the pelt and the sturdy built might have driven her to tears from the similarity to her dead mother, but not so with this man. Instead the sight of him brought a smile to her lips. Small, saddened at first but increasing in brightness as the distance between them closed. He was smiling back at her, and Erthë willingly let herself be greeted; touched her frost cold nose to his and then slipped past it to wrap her wings and neck around him in an embrace that was peculiarly warm despite the unnatural temperature of her skin.
"Uncle Badger!" she said, with a tittering laugh of delight. "I've come to visit you! It's been so long since I saw you, not since the Island. How have you been, what have you been doing?"
Even once she pulled back again the girl kept smiling, the simple delight at being in his presence again relaxing any worries she might have held at being in an unfamiliar place. And speaking of which;
"This place is beautiful. I've never been here before - I almost understand why you chose to stay here!"
Almost. For even though the landscape was beautiful with its fragile greenery and glittering waters, with the vast sky and pale sun, this was the protectorate of a different god. One whom, even after accepting that even immortals made mistakes, she couldn't entirely forgive for being the foremost cause of her mother's death. If the Sun God in his high-headed overconfidence hadn't promised peace and safety onto the Halcyon Flats...
But her grudge was to wards the fiery lord and not his land, or its inhabitants, and especially not towards the gentle eunuch who always seemed to be there to save her when she needed it.
The world suddenly goes white as her wings envelope me, and I giggle as one of the feathers tickles my neck. As it always does when she calls me Uncle Badger, I feel a flutter of happiness deep in my chest, which makes my ears stand tall on my head and my warm eyes glow with delight. Her enthusiasm is catching - and, not for the first time, I marvel at her strength. It's been only a few months since her mother died, since she was badly injured twice in the God battles, yet she is a little ray of sunshine. If more horses were like her, the world would be a far better place.
She asks what I've been up to, and I chuckle. "Oh, the usual. Collecting herbs, exploring. Boring adult things." I swing my tail to rid myself of some of the pesky flies that still insist on persecuting my flanks even now it's autumn. As she comments on the beauty of this place, I nod my agreement. It may be hotter than I'd like, and the plants a bit too spiky, but I wouldn't change it for the world. This is my home, my herd, and for all its flaws I love it. "It is, isn't it?"
My smile fades slightly, then, as I turn serious. I look to her, and my gaze travels down towards the leg that was shattered in the most recent battle. "How are you, Erthë? How are your legs? They look a lot better. I hope they're treating you well over in the Edge." I'd naturally been gutted when she chose to go to the Edge rather than here, but I can understand she wants to be with her father. After all, I'm not really family, as much as I wish I was. He sired her, he created her - I just nurture her when there's nobody left to pick up the pieces for her. And that's what I'll always do, until the day I die.
Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,
And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.
She laughed too, silvery droplets of mirth falling like brilliant rain in the morning light. He evaded the question of course - since when had she ever found adult matters to be boring, after all? Erthë had always been unusually interested in the workings of the world, for one so young - but as always she forgave him this. It wasn't easy for the grown equids with their fixed views of what the world ought to be like to accept that not every child preferred to play on flower fields over discussing politics or religion. And in a way, she supposed it might not even be relevant, what her favorite uncle had spent his time doing. As long as he hadn't settled down with a family or some such without telling her about it she would accept anything, everything.
But he grew serious again, much quicker than she had hoped, and Erthë sighed as her own smile faded.
"There's been no difference" she admitted, voice soft and light though her eyes trailed off, unable to hide the presence of concern about the issue.
"I asked a healer in the Edge to look at it after we got back home because the leg kept swelling and hurting, and she tried to heal it but I don't think she was able to do more than you or miss Res already had. Lady Ophelia - you know, the white unicorn lady with red-tipped hair who was on the Island too? - she said she'd take me to the Veins to pray to the gods for help, but it seems she got a bit sidetracked..."
The filly gave the black gelding a helpless little smile and shrugged with the wings, expressing her quiet frustration on the matter. They were getting close to the subject she'd wanted to talk to her teacher about now, but she wasn't sure how to approach it - or how he would take it. She'd been careless, after all, and as much as she wanted to hope Erthë had a feeling she might be walking headlong into a scolding.
To stall for time, she began to walk along the coast, loathe to head further inland without an explicit invitation to do so but still keen to see more of the island.
"I, uhm.. I think I messed up, uncle" she finally said, carefully avoiding his gaze where she limped along. "Remember when you taught me about herbs and their effects..?"
There's been no difference. I make no attempt to hide my concern. If her condition hasn't changed, does that mean she is in constant pain? I cannot stand that idea. If it was another creature hurting her, then I could do something about that. Well....I could try to, at least. But the pain is coming from her own body, and there is no force on earth that can conquer that. This notion leaves me feeling powerless, and I paw the ground anxiously. I am supposed to be able to help her, to spare her from pain, and yet there's nothing I can do.
It makes me ache with anger that I can't help her.
She mentions consulting the Edge's healer, and that a woman named Ophelia offered to take her to the Gods to be healed. I can't help it - I shrivel my nose slightly. "I hope the Gods will be able to fix you, my dear, but...try not to pin all of your hopes on it. Like any man, I pray that the Gods can cure all ills, but if that was the case then why didn't the Earth God heal you when he cured everybody of their illnesses?" Either the deity couldn't fix her shattered legs, or he just chose not to.
I don't know which of those is more concerning.
I hate the notion of shattering her dreams, though, and regret my words almost as soon as they leave my lips. She begins to walk, and I follow. I offer one broad shoulder for her to lean on if she so chooses, if her legs still pain her, and I walk as slow as I can to accomodate her. I love showing off my home, but not if it's going to cause her pain. She speaks again, with a rather ominous air, like she's about to ask or tell me something I won't like. I think I messed up. My heart skips a beat, then races as she continues. Remember when you taught me of herbs and their effects? I'm not usually foul mouthed, but I think shit. Have I taught her the wrong thing? Did she try to heal someone and hurt them instead, because I gave her false information? "I remember," I say slowly. "What's happened?"
12-25-2015, 02:06 PM (This post was last modified: 12-25-2015, 02:08 PM by Erthë.)
Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,
And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.
The dove was sweating beneath the searching gaze of the healer. Something agitated and restless tainted her limping strides as she meandered along the coast, eyes flitting this way and that with birdlike twitches - though whether she actually took in much of what she saw was hard to tell.
She tried to smile but it came out feeble, tremulous, marred by clattering teeth and a rather out of place yawn that made no sense in the face of her nervousness... but all the more if you noticed the bags beneath her eyes, the slow drip of clear mucus from the nose or the fact that it really wasn't warm enough even in the desert to cause one to actually sweat.
"Well, I... My leg hurt, really badly. So I got desperate and I took one of the flowers. You know, the red ones... one that bleeds white. And it worked! I felt great, the pain went away... for a while."
She swallowed, keeping her gaze away from Badger and missed the worried expression, the way he steeled himself to endure the weight of her words.
"But lately it hasn't been enough with one flower, or two or even three... and I'm scared uncle Badger because if I don't eat them it hurts but when I do it's like the whole world disappears."
Erthë stopped, tension knitting her muscles together as she waited for some reaction - anger, shouting, lectures maybe - but what she hoped for... well. She wasn't really sure. A way to fix the core problem?
But what could she do, when magic didn't help and herbs only seemed to make the issue bigger, and he thought the gods weren't to be trusted.
"I don't know what to do, uncle" she whispered, close to tears.
Quiet air gathers around them. It mourns when he is too tired to carry himself, given up on flying on wounded wings. Her pleas collapsed his fears at last, and before they could make it across the bridge on flames that both dread trusting, the midnight skin outlining his wings is replaced by the soft, fresh promise of pink skin.
Trust that was once thought to be impossible between the clashing personalities begins threading itself around their hearts, born into this world like a sick newborn child that requires all the love of it’s mother and every prayer possible to make it through the next night. No questions raise from her actions done only for him, nor does he prod her with his curiosity. What is done is done and part of the past. He could of ignored what she had done and gone on with his typical treatment of her, unaware of how large of a part he played in something that they would discover in the near future, but with his black body spread across her spine, shielding her from the rays of the early Orangemoon sun, he makes himself into the eyes and ears she cannot be while wounded.
The desert feels more endless and empty than it ever has when they carry themselves across it. Sand rolls up into the air like orange smoke when she drags her feet. Along the way, she wonders if she smells. She fears that she’s gathered up the stench of death that Amara carries without a second thought, that her herd members will look at her so shattered and destroyed when she is typically well physically, if not fat and almost appearing pampered, and feel disgust at the sight of her. She comes home in a shadow of herself, drag through the dirt and unable to baptize herself in the waters she loves so dearly.
Depression tries to take swing when she remembers that she lives in the land of fire when she has begun a phobia of flames, but that’s the same irony of how she fears death and decaying matter when she chooses to remain a healer.
Bodies build from the ground and strike her dazed eyes as mirages, but the grass that steadily gathers around her hooves as she pushes further in is a testament to the idea that they’re not real. One made of snow that causes her to think of her days as a foal and how much she’d like to see the snowflakes falling from the sky when she’s healed from her curse, and another that has had the night poured into their existence.
Up close, they mold into the body of a child that confuses Hobgoblin, who promptly asks “How can have wings and horn?” and Badger.
Oh, and how happy she is to see him. “Badger!” Her voice comes out with nothing else than a loud whisper, yelling his name in an attempt to catch his attention. She can’t feel her legs move beneath her when she tries to reach them, or it might just be that she chooses to focus more on the hope of safety and help than what is immediately occurring.
At their arrival, Hobgoblin can do nothing more than stare at the child, studying with cold, yellow eyes as he tries to figure out what makes this child so different from the rest, what makes them so special. His tail flickers aggressively. “Why both?”
But Sikeax is too caught up in her company to listen to him. “Would you be able to take care of my neck? I can’t heal it myse-” “WHY SMALL HORSE HAVE BOTH?”
For the first time, she takes time to drink in the snow filly’s presence. Pity swallows her when she thinks of how painful it must be on her hide when the Tallsun Sun strikes down upon it, burning without mercy in a way she can’t even begin to imagine. The child’s voice sweeps into her ears like the strike of pain that she has yet to receive. “Are you okay?” Worry hints at her voice. “What’s wrong?”
OOC: I really worked out the ending weirdly because I ran out of muse and wrote this over multiple days so it's kind of bleh.
Sia's still pregnant but I highly doubt it's noticeable at this point, so please don't mention her as looking it or anything if you could please <3
My blood runs cold. I freeze, a blackened statue, and my eyes seem to glaze over as I contemplate all the repercussions of the girl's words. Addiction. I am not a foul-mouthed man by design, but a thousand 'oh shits' threaten to burst out of my lips. I have fortunately never suffered from an addiction myself, but I know how it can happen. The humans would often coyly talk of their own addictive personalities, whether it be to drugs, alcohol, money, the opposite sex. Until I began to study herbology properly, I never knew that horses can grow reliant upon things, too. Sometimes it's innocent enough, an over-reliance on a painkilling herb to numb the agony of an old war wound, and if it's not dangerous then I see no problem with it.
But the flower the filly describes...if it's what I think it is, then it is very bad news indeed. But the sight of my niece averting her gaze, as though she expects me to flip on her, to rage and shout and scream...it makes my insides ache. "Oh, Erthë, you needn't have worried about my reaction. Did you think I would be angry at you?" My gaze is sympathetic as I look at her, and I move closer to try and pull her to my side, to lend comfort with my warmth and presence. "I wouldn't be angry if you came to me saying you had colic or flu, my dear, so I couldn't be angry at you for this." It is an illness, like colic or flu, but it is not an illness I have encountered very often or know how to solve.
I rack my brains, and my mental search has never been so important. Erthë needs me, and I cannot let her down. "You're so brave for coming to me with this, little one. You've already won half the battle, because you've acknowledged that you have a problem and you actually want to fix it." If she was oblivious to her addiction, if she raged against the very notion of it, then it would be far, far harder to cure it. The fact she knows of it, and wants to fix it, means she will hopefully be open to ideas. Of course, I have never tried to help any of the addicts I've met, so it's the blind leading the blind. All I have is my common sense, and my extensive knowledge of herbs - but whether they'll be enough remains to be seen. I will do my damndest to make sure they are.
"It won't be easy to cure you of this, Erthë. It'll be a long and painful road, but I know you're strong enough to cope. Do you trust me?" Before I make any suggestions, I need to know that she is utterly and completely willing to work with me, no matter how hard it gets. It is a heavy weight for shoulders so young, and again I find myself wondering how one of her age can have suffered such damned bad luck in her short life.
It is at this moment that another arrives - the familiar form of Sikeax and her demonic companion. I smile at my fellow healer, nodding my haltered head, even though the smile is somewhat forced from my conversation with the white filly. "Ah, Sikeax! This is Erthë, my niece." As she nears, I see the way she's carrying herself - I see the wound on her neck, and I begin to fret. When she asks me to cure the wound, I immediately nod. "What happened to you? Of course I'll heal you. Here, stay still." I move closer, summoning the magic that bubbles in my soul. I force aside my distractions, thoughts of my niece and how I'm going to help her, to concentrate fully on healing my herdmate. My jaws open and fire leaves them - I direct the torrent towards the wound, being sure to coat it fully in flames. The flames do not burn, scorch or hurt...they heal, and despite the drain on my energy I keep going until I see the skin begin to knit together.
I couldn't find exactly what's wrong with her neck, so I've been sort of vague on the exact injury! If you want though I can edit c: Also I hope the minor PP of the healing was okay!
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