"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.
Isopia thought we'd build a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake
The fluttering in her stomach wouldn't abate.
It gnawed at her constantly, as if there was some small creature inside of her gut twisting around her insides like folds of fabric. Sometimes it tugged, sometimes it yanked, and other times it merely twisted the internal chords of our soul, but always it was there. Sitting, waiting. A lump of anxiety.
In the past, Isopia had blissfully felt nothing. She felt hunger and pain, but had trained her mind to ignore those bodily pangs. But remorse? Sadness? Happiness? Never before had those things impressed themselves upon her mind. She was an organic machine, with a heart of earth. And she had been just fine with that.
But now?
It had been him.
Volterra.
He had done something to her, awoken some prehistoric and ugly door inside of her, allowing all sorts of emotions to come splashing through. She longed, she wanted, she craved. And in the absence of the things she expected, she felt empty and entitled. Her mind knew how preposterous this was, and yet the creature who came through that door Volterra opened, didn't care. It didn't listen to the teachings of her mind. Instead, it wailed and demanded that it be satisfied. And so Isopia carried this parasite with her always, this ball of anxiety making her simultaneously look for the ruby-eyed stallion around every turn, but which also made her long to forget his face.
Isopia stirred the waters of the Seers pool using her own magic. Dragons of water rose out of the surface, much to Hubris' delight, and splashed around the bronzey creature.
"Father.." She called softly, knowing that it was her mere presence here, rather than her voice, which would call her parent out of the earth. And although she called him Father, that she called to him from this place, rather than any other, should have made it clear that she was here on business. This was for the herd.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
Irrydae had been a good Storyteller, chosen by the Earth God himself to aide the Grey in the matters of spiritual and mystical counsel. Archibald knew her to be a quiet mare that spent time learning about all she could to help those around her, and he would never forget how her kind, golden eyes regarded him at herd meetings. Aside from Irrydae, Archibald had little experience with the Seers of his herds--when he was king before the Grey, the Storyteller had been a rocky position, and in the World's Edge Archibald let Kahlua tend to their Seer. He had no intention to be around when the Moon Goddess appeared and spoke. She was a vile snake.
Now, however, Archibald was very interested in their Storyteller. This child, this young girl had been chosen because she bled the same blood as the god she summoned. He had been watching her on his patrols, frequently moving past this spot to see if she was attempting communication with the Father Earth. Today, it seemed, she was. So, Archibald broke through the trees silently, Loretta at his heel, and stood still. He did not say anything to the demi-god accept offer her a confident nod should she look his way. Loretta lowered her body to the loamy soil, tucking her paws beneath her and resting her head on her knee. The Dauntless was a sentinel, waiting with baited breathe for the deity to appear from his pool. Should he appear, what would he have to offer? What was there to give the Hidden Falls? Archibald had many questions about how the lands of the Rift Gods would affect this world; mostly, he worried if they should still hold them at bay and be cautious of them.
The Dauntless waited, watching Isopia's water dragons and bronze companion, watching the waters ripple beneath her elemental control, watching her muscles and body. What was she thinking when she called out father into the Orangemoon air?
Adults doing adult things with their adult selves – a typical scenario in Macaria's life. The theme so far, if you will. And she is almost never a part of it...you know, being a child and all.
There were many things in this world, in this place, that the baby dapple-smacked unicorn knows nothing about. It is the perplexing and ever changing subject of magic that eludes (and intrigues) her most. Well, the thing she focuses on most, that is. It fascinates and terrifies her at the same time, a sensation she has no name for but loves it just the same as any other beautiful emotion. More and more each day she lets go of the images of her mother, a mother she never knew, and finds little pieces of herself to build what will one day be a semi-completed Macaria, motherless daughter of the Dauntless.
She no longer speaks to the clouds and the moon in hopes that her mother's voice will fill her wanting ears.
It's been a while since dear ol' Dad has been seen, and she sure does adore her beloved father – surely she would lover her brothers just as much if they ever bothered to seek her company. In the month or so it's been since they last laid eyes on one another for more than a second, she has grown, Macaria is almost sixteen hands now. By next Frostfall she'll be a full grown woman, standing taller and thicker than most of the girls her same age. This body of slate gray and dappled markings, these eyes of golden amber that almost match her father's – she's beginning to like it, to be comfortable with it. Although each time she closes her eyelids to sleep she is no longer a solid form in this mortal world, but instead a wisp of light and air that sparkles and flies though the night sky with no hindrance at all. Like stardust, her thoughts say to herself. She feels like the weightless tail of a star, spilling it's magical embrace to fall across the bony backs of the mountains. She always dreams this dream and no other, awaking to feel heavy and with limbs she's unfamiliar with. This feeling of loss when she opens her eyes is slowly fading and replaced with a confidence she's never felt before.
Perhaps that is just part of growing up, she muses.
She can see him (dear ol' dad) and another in the distance, watching a pool of dancing water with a girl she's never seen before. A very beautiful girl, she notes. She approaches without caution, but says nothing, only kissing her soft lips to her fathers shoulder as she quietly takes the empty place at his shoulder. She knows better than to speak aloud right now and merely looks on with captivated eyes.
The earth had begun to quiet as the new season slowly encroached upon the world, life receding and growing dormant with preparation for new life and rebirth. But the earth was always present and thriving, and the herd beneath his protection seemed to follow on that path. He had been absent in the other realms the previous seasons, and he and his siblings had worked hard to secure the borders of the land against any other malevolent rulers. Yet he had returned, and when he felt the gentle tug of his daughter's voice cast out across the scrying pools, the God smiled to himself and disappeared.
He rose from the waters obligingly, beard and wings wet and dripping as the draconian figures dove beside him, dark scheme appearing like mud as he formed from the water to appear solid before the trio. His eyes were only for Isopia for the moment, smile twisting gently at his lips. "Hello, my child," was uttered warmly, a quiet rumble of shifting mountains, far more careful now with her chosen name and the way she guarded it so valiantly. His lack of comprehension did not mean he could not abide by her wishes and keep it the secret she clearly wanted it to be.
Dark eyes flickered over to the other two, family as well, father and daughter. "Archibald, young Macaria," for her name was not barred from him, and he felt no need to restrict her to the title of progeny, to erase her individuality. The God inclined his head towards them in further greeting, but his business was with the Storyteller of his lands - his daughter. She had called him for a particle of his wisdom, and he would consent to give it freely. If the pair had anything to say, to ask, he would always respond.
And so he turned his wise face towards Isopia once more, awaiting her questions, her inquiries. "How may I help you?"
Isopia thought we'd build a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake
Isopia might have bristled, were it not for the fact that she rarely displayed outward signs of emotion. Though it was a little irksome, that she would find Archibald with her in this moment.
Did he not trust her to commune with their patron God, her Father? Did he think she would fail to convey some important message, or forget to ask him something in particular? Sure, her Father had willingly placed her in this position, but both Kaj and Archibald had obeyed that decision. So if he wasn't here to ensure that her work was done correctly, then why was he here at all? Hubris pulsed an emotion into her mind, and the demi-goddess exhaled softly.
Oh.
The emotion was something like pride, jealousy, and reverence, all wrapped up into one. Upon reflection, it seemed unsurprising then, that Archibald should be here. Hadn't he led this herd before? Wasn't all of his magic wrapped up in her Father's powers? Perhaps he wasn't here for her at all - but for him. Hubris shrugged at Iso's hooves, and both companion and bonded were unsure what to make of Archibald's presence, with this new found understanding. Only Macaria's presence continued to spark a minor annoyance in her. Even since Archibald had introduced her as the Princess of the Falls, Iso had taken a dislike to her, firmly believing that if anyone was the rightful Princess of these lands, it was her. But even that was something that Iso only minorly cared about, and so she swept away the rising tension she felt and instead focused on the pool of water.
As her Father's massive bulk pushed through the calm waters of the pool, Iso let her watery magic die down and mix back into the ripples. Hello, my child. That her Father was likely trying to respect her wishes and keep her name a secret might have been appreciated, had he not already announced her name to almost half of the Helovian population. But as it was, most already knew, and so this meager politeness went unnoticed.
"Father." She responded with a nod of her quad-horned head. Her voice was neutral as always, if not bordering on the respectful. Although Isopia failed to understand many of the Helovian customs and norms, she could mimic them well enough, and standing before one of the leads of her herd, as well as a God, seemed to suggest some amount of respect on her part.
"It appears you and your kin have been successful against the Gods who had tried to cross through into our lands. Is there anything more you would have us do, to that end? We have healed their sick, as well as ours, and accepted them into our ranks. There seems to be no racism associated with the 'Riftians', nor any ill-will harbored towards them or responsibility attributed to them for what their Gods did. Is there anything to be aware of? Any more instances where you all are going to just vanish, and leave us here?" Although her tone remained even, one could, if they were so inclined, interpret her final question as a challenge to her Father. After all, as she had discussed with Mesec, how were the demi-children meant to serve and keep Helovia in check, when they had no more information to go on, than anyone else? The least the Gods could do, Isopia thought, was to give their children - their ambassadors - a heads up about such things.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
The Dauntless stood still and quiet, eyes watching the pool. He had acknowledged the Storyteller in her own right, and now he waiting for the God of these lands to appear before them. He was not for certain in the Father Earth would make himself known or seen today, but he hoped. He had been present before when a call went unanswered and it only spread frustration and despair within the herd. In the aftermath of the Riftian battles, the gods were needed. Archibald had met with the Moon Goddess, sought answers to her tyranny, and was left with nothing. Even she, in this time, was a necessary evil that Helovia would need to embrace. The Dauntless sighed, a quiet sigh meant for no one's ears.
Macaria stepped through the underbrush and caught his attention. He lifted his head some, golden eyes falling on her beauty. A small smile tugged on the edges of his pale lips as she closed the distance between them, placing a small kiss to his shoulder. She looked so much like her mother and it made his heart ache. Her body was growing into the curvature of womanhood, and Archibald wanted only to wrap her up and keep her forever. The thought of a man looking upon her lustfully made his stomach turn and his heart turn to fire. No one in this world was good enough for her. He returned her kiss, running his pale maw up her crest and gently nipping her poll. She was growing so tall, the Dauntless expected her to nearly reach her brothers. Gold eyes met gold and he nodded to her, motioning towards the pool that Isopia tended. "Just wait," he whispered.
With promise, the earth trembled with the Earth God's coming. He manifested before them, a vigil of strength and wisdom. Their patron was one of the few in Helovia who stood taller than the Dauntless, an impressive feat. "Father Earth," Archibald greeted when the patron rumbled his name, followed by his daughter's. Archibald's typically cold face was as stoic as usual, the warmth of Macaria's approach hidden behind a stoney face. This was a time for business, and he knew that to be true of Isopia's thoughts as well as she went on to seek her father's guidance. As he watched the Storyteller unfold her questions, a yearning tugged at Archibald's chest. He wished for his own children to seek their wisdom from him. He glanced to his daughter out of the corner of his eye, thinking of her brothers before her. He had not seen the boys in some time. He knew Reginald to be a member of the Dragon's Throat, but Abraham's location was unknown to him. The black son had always been the more free of the two, the ailment that gripped Reginald so tightly keeping him closer to Circe than his wombmate in their foalhood.
Looking back to the patron, the Dauntless waited. He had his own questions to ask him, but it was Isopia's role to have the god's first attentions.
“Just wait.” Her father's comforting voice boomed beside her. Her golden eyes slid where his own blazing gaze settled. The gloriously beautiful woman seemed to leave their presence alone – she didn't appear to react, but her companion displayed some signs of displeasure. Mac bends an ear to her father and leans her pink nose in for a closer look. Her head hovers quietly, draped in long charcoal hair, her eyes fixated on the pool. The air becomes static and her bones freeze in place, her toes glued to the ground and her eyes pulled toward the rumbling pool. She is in a trance, she's enamored and almost scared too. She says nothing, even as her father mutters a sort of prayer like phrase. Both of her dark ears are flipped forward. He speaks her name as if she's met him – her eyes simply widen and her cat like tail ceases to flick as it normally does.
Does he know where my mother is? This is the first thing to run to through her mind after she sees him appear. Her inner seeps into her dreamy thoughts, her trance unbroken on the outside of her body. Her inner-self begins to scream though, oblivious to the laws of respect or ritual. Something about this seemed familiar to her - he is a God. The Earth God. Her eyes drink in his form, his aura and her body relaxes; her tenseness melting as his voice plays into the air. It is warm, its fatherly and loving, and it eases her racing mind as if he's taken control of it. Her father doesn't stir and in that moment they become polite by-standers waiting their turn.
He is her father...like my father is MY father. He is hers. Her inner voice rambles aimlessly and she starts to come away from her trance state. She quietly hopes he will want to speak with her...to let her ask him where her mother is. Is dead just gone or does she run and spar with him and his friends in the clouds? She prepares herself for her time to shine. If she may even get such a chance...
As was her nature, his child did not waste time with pleasantries and polite, vapid conversation. The god gazed down upon her from the pool, resting peacefully amidst his land and the elements of his domain. A respectful nod was dipped towards Archibald and his progeny when the lead of his lands spoke, but this time was reserved for the Storyteller, and his communications held far more importance when that Storyteller was also his daughter and one of the figures that helped balance the land. Her summons seemed to align with the dangerous, ominous itching at the spirits and minds of the godly rulers of the land. The lord did not doubt that she would inquire after affairs in the celestial realm, as was her duty - one she clearly took very seriously.
The concise report that his daughter lay before him was not unappreciated, but also not wholly surprising. The Helovians may be rather absorbed with affairs of war and deceit, but they were also rather trusting - sometimes too trusting, in the case of his siblings and their individual rampages - especially when it came to the word of their gods. That those from the Rift had not been turned aside was a welcome change, and though he'd cured the sickness the foreigners had brought and rubbed off onto the Helovians, it was still a step in the right direction.
Isopia's last comment, phrased deceivingly in the guise of a question, was understandably bitter. He could not fault her for it, for in a way they had abandoned their flock once more - to make the land larger and free the enslaved of another realm perhaps, but in the end abandonment ached the same in those abandoned, and no attempt at explanation would ease the remembered sting.
"You've all done well," he noted with a tone of pride, for the Falls and Helovia as a whole had clearly made efforts to uphold the requests of he and his siblings. "We have no plans for disappearing without word any time in the future, but..." the god trailed off, brow turning inward as he contemplated the news he had to share with his skull-faced child. "There is something shifting and rising, an itch that none of us can place. But it does not bode well. If even we cannot discern what the disturbance is..." the mighty creature sighed, bearded face shaking sadly. "There is something coming, a tide is turning. I do not know what it is, but I believe we must all be as prepared as possible in the face of it."
The god's face and tone of voice was grave in a way he not often was, clearly expressing his discomfort and the sense of foreboding and fear he felt in the face of this mysterious force that had he and his sibling subtly off-kilter. How they could prepare...even he did not know.
Isopia thought we'd build a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake
Isopia listened.
She assumed that because her Father had indicated that he and his kin did not know the source of the disturbance that he referenced, that he likely also had no suggestion as to how they were meant to prepare for it. Prepare for anything, was likely the only response he could give, and so, because that answer was vacuous and unhelpful, the girl didn't both asking it. Instead, her golden gaze narrowed. For a moment she considered pointing out how annoyingly their omnipotence seemed to wane in the face of danger, but how bold it seemed to be in the face of everything else. They seemed to always know what was best for the Helovian's when it came to tired and petty matters, but when it came to things of actual importance? Even we cannot discern what the disturbance is. Of course you can't.
"Very well." She responded flatly, offering no thanks for her Father's ominous but unhelpful warning. Something was always coming. There would always be evil in the world to plague them. Why did she even bother with seasonal summons? She could spout this prophetic nonsense without consulting her Father. There was no point in wasting both of their time.
"We will continue on as we always have." She mumbled, her quad-horned skull turning to face Archibald. She still wasn't clear whether he was here for his own agenda, or whether he was checking up on her. Isopia supposed that it didn't matter which.
To make up for his bonded's rudeness, Hubris trilled a happy thank-you to the Earthen God, his draconian skull parted in a wide, toothy smile.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
The Dauntless stood still and quiet, listening as the God and his daughter made dialogue with each other. His tail flicked behind him, touching Macaria gently as it hit is own hocks. Molten gold eyes narrowed some as the God spoke of the unease in Helovia. Archibald was no stranger to the unexplainable happenings in this realm, but that did not mean they were welcomed or expected. Loretta looked up to Archibald and then to Macaria. We must protect them. Her and them and everyone. Archibald's jaw tightened and his magics bristled beneath his skin.
This God before him and granted the Dauntless with everything he had--his magics, his companion, and he suspected his armor. The great, massive deity had no explanation for what was happening in his world and it made Archibald sick to his stomach--except, in a sudden realization, the behemoth snapped his head up. "This threat is from the Rift, isn't it?" It was a sudden understanding, a quick and sparking observation. The God did not know what was happening because it was something he did not ordain, something he did not create. It was something he stole and brought into these lands. A dark, looming anger bubbled in Loretta's stomach.
Archibald stepped forward, his massive head lifting high as he looked sternly at Isopia. "We will not tuck our tails and stay inactive, hiding within our borders." His voice was cold, deep, and reprimanding. Archibald would not let his herd suffice with mediocrity. If there was a threat, the Hidden Falls would be prepared for anything. "Father Earth," Archibald turned his eyes on him now, the only one standing taller than he, "you know this land, you shaped it and molded it. Tell me the best way to defend it."
There was little he could do for them, his daughter and the current king of his herdlands. The threat was an unknown thing, a twinge in the cosmic forces, a lingering feeling of things that should not be. For all their omniscience and power, this threat remained elusive, an exhausting creature in all aspects. It was their task to guard and protect, but often they only left vague and useless messages for their seers and wise ones.
It was why the God was not surprised when Isopia digested this information and simply agreed to continue life as it was meant to be. Training, growing stronger. They simply had nothing else they could do, not until this threat showed its face. And it would, in time. All foes did, especially in the history of Helovia. He offered her a sad, understanding smile. The same troubles always appeared, just in different seasons. Life would move on, and she understood that.
Archibald did not appear to, words sharp and disapproving. The mighty God turned his massive cranium towards the Czar, one brow arching in a slightly imperious manner. That was his daughter after all, and it was amusing the Czar would speak to her in such a way with his own daughter there, whom he would undoubtedly defend brutally if someone were to speak to her in that manner. And then he asked for guidance and advice, and so the God would give it. "Stay inactive? You determine that continuing as normal is not a proper defense. Perhaps your troops' version of normal consistency is lacking then, and not her suggestion." Massive wings gestured vaguely to the herdlands around them, droplets sprinkling into the water to ripple the surface. "Remember what you utilized when you seized it, and ensure nobody else can do the same as you did. Utilize the shape of the land, it is that way for a reason."
And with a mysterious smile, forgiving and almost playful, the massive figure dissolved into mud and slipped back into the water.
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