"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.
04-04-2016, 03:00 PM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2016, 03:00 PM by Elsa.)
Elsa
I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.
She’s avoided pretty much everyone since she gained an inkling that she was pregnant. Especially Tembovu. He knew she had royally fucked up with her twins and she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother again. Panic embedded itself deep within her gut as she made it a point to be scarce. She was terrified he would find out. Terrified he would be mad.
Edgar had pushed for her to meet with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her mind was scared shitless by all the possibilities. The number of horrible outcomes heavily outweighed the good. Eventually she would have to face him. Hiding a child was near impossible.
So as the familiar pain twisted in her stomach, her anxiety increased tenfold. The first point of anxiety fell with the weather. It was still much too cold to bring a child into the world. Neither herself nor Edgar had any chance of helping with that either. On shaky legs, she pulled herself to the furthest possible part of the Edge forest. Beneath the leaves she would have some cover from the cold.
And thus the pain began. It was far less than with the twins, and so she hoped there would only be one this time around. The thought of having two newborns again left her head spinning. In general, well, at this moment, her mind was spinning out of control she hardly had a grasp of her own reality.
Edgar had left her then, determined to get Tembovu. Elsa didn’t see him leave, so he slipped away unnoticed. Once he was able to find the lead, he swooped down, squawking in front of him like a mad man and pointing in the direction he had just come from. Then the bird could feel her distress shoot up, and he knew the baby was nearly out. The poor Tembovu would be so confused, but Edgar couldn’t wait around for him to decide if he would follow or not. Edgar needed to make sure his bonded was okay.
Upon arrival, there was indeed a child by her side. From the ground Elsa gently cleaned him up, trying to tuck the child beneath her wing and keep him as warm as possible. Her eyes were glassy and distressed, she had been crying. Edgar knew it was from him leaving, the moment she noticed his absence she knew where he had gone.
Frantically she looked about for him. Her body was in fight mode, and she was ready to take Tembovu on if he decided he didn’t want a child yet. She had already, nearly, fought off one father and she would do it again if she needed to. God. What has she done? Elsa, the queen of royal fuck ups and mistakes. This poor baby boy. Her baby boy. Would he suffer from her mistakes like her daughters did? Her stomach rolled with pain, and she tried to calm her uncontrollable shaking as she waited for Tembovu, who was no doubt due to arrive soon.
Nature's great masterpiece : an elephant ; the only harmless great thing.
The King had been alone. Dangerous, dire solitude. He avoided Mauja (Mauja avoided him?) after the meeting. He avoided many after the meeting— but not Alysanne and her fury, nor Orithia and her comfort. And on his wanderings from the Edge, he had not avoided Rexanna.
But one he had not avoided, yet still had not found, was Elsa. His Queen. She was one he had sought after, yet could not find. First, irritation had irked him. Was she avoiding him because of their coupling? She had wanted it, he had needed it. It had been good fantastic. At least for him. She had seemed sated. If she wasn’t… That thought had driven him even harder to find her. (And perhaps guilt, from Alysanne. He needed to confirm whatever this was with Elsa.) But, as he continued to fail to find her, irritation and guilt were replaced with unease. Unease turned to outright concern as Edgar appeared before him, squawking wildly. Concern morphed to fear as Edgar took off into the skies, flying ferociously towards the dense forests at the furthest reaches of the Edge. Mbwene trumpeted alarmingly after him, calling for her zephyr friend to wait.
But he was gone.
And so was Tembovu, bursting into a ground-shaking gallop as he wove between the trees. His upward turned eyes and craned head resulted in him crashing into trunks and branches as the trees thickened— but they broke before the charge of the Elephant King. Bruises and cuts littered his hide, accumulating the farther he raced, but his attention was focused on the icy zephyr that danced in and out of his sight above the trees.
Mbwene was trundling behind him, but her short legs (despite moving at a surprisingly fast pace) were no match for the gargantuan strides of the King. So he left her behind, despite the smell of predatory cats, chasing the Icebound’s companion.
Dread seized his chest as Edgar dropped from view, sinking from the sky far ahead of him. Pumping legs of black and ivory pushed harder, racing towards some unknown, catastrophic fate. His demons tortured him with images of Elsa’s alabaster skin charred and sloughing, burnt by magical infernos that gave no warning or smoke.
He slid to a halt.
Despairing cobalt eyes met panicked, icy ones.
And then they fell to the small life that was partially tucked under her wing.
“Is it—“ his hours voice cracked and failed between heaving breaths as sweat began to patch on his hide. “Is it ours?” His husky words came out, driven by being denied a child not once, but three times within his life. His head dropped, to her level, slow steps bringing him closer. Hope splintered the anguish on his face muzzle reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek.
But even the Icebound could not hold his attention, for his head fell further, nostrils flaring and finding the scent of life around this colt, amid the afterbirth. “Elsa, he’s—” there was a heat that suddenly roared in him, cutting off his words as his lips aimed to move her feathers aside. Tenderly, disbelievingly, thick lips reached to stroke the dark, slick foal-fuzz of mane. Emotion rumbled in his throat, but his eyes remained on the new life beneath the Queen’s wing and his muzzle sought to smooth over every part of this precious, marvelous life.
04-08-2016, 09:14 PM (This post was last modified: 04-08-2016, 09:14 PM by Hawezi.)
You are born on the last dying breath of winter as summer tears its throat out. Around you there are the stirrings of new life: green buds on trees, dripping shiny snow, and ants carving paths through old trees. There are the signs of rebirth all around you, shouting and screaming for attention—but you are deaf to those sounds. Instead you are consumed by the agony and torment of your wet flesh, the cold that curls into your fragile bones and sucks upon your marrow.
Ma, you think dully, blinking your eyes (both of which are too bright, too blue, against the pallor of your face.) She is the only real thing here: the rest of the world is smeary and fantastical, painfully bright compared to the darkness of the womb and abnormally loud compared to the soft stirrings of your mother's heartbeat. It is her white side you nestle against—taking the comfort of her warmth over nature's instincts. Stand up, stand up; you shake your head, thoughts rattling around your empty skull.
Feathers slide around you, soft as an angel's kiss. First you murmur, content, and then you choke. The air snags, unfriendly as teeth and hooves, in your throat, in your lungs—you rattle, you moan, and yet no air enters your chest. Instinct takes over: you cough, cough and cough, wracked by a heaving fit that deafens your ears to the thunder that is your approaching father.
Ma, you think again, eyes moist. You want to close your eyes (to sleep) to ignore the clamor around you, or at the very least disappear into your Ma's white.
There's no such luck for you.
You mewl beneath your mother's wing. The earth vibrates beneath you. For a scarce moment you are afraid, a primal, trembly sensation that works its way down from your fledgling wings to your toes; and then, head peering out from beneath Elsa's wing, you catch the first memory you'll have of your father. Ma might be your blanket, but it is clear your Da's your shield. He is ridged with muscle, striped and horned, a strange and alien king to your mother's simple silver; you shiver, recoil, but soon you'll realize he's only a horse as well.
(He's coming closer.)
He is elephantine; he takes up the whole sky. You look at him, eyes round and wide with both fear and wonder, and then he touches you, soft air curling down your mane. (You should be afraid. You are not.) Snot oozes down from your nostrils; you huffle and puffle, then sneeze happily.
You are home and you are safe. That is all you need.
I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.
Of all the things Tembovu could have said- he questioned whether or not it was his. She rolled her eyes and turned her head away toward the child. "No it's Deimos's." Okay, the bitter sneer was a little much, but he seriously didn't trust her that much? "Of course its yours dipshit." She mumbled. But her angry raving was suddenly cut short as the child coughed. She looked at him, suddenly seized with fear. Thankfully, he calmed down and she felt utterly horrible.
It was her fault for being so naive, and no her child was suffering from being born during the last days of winter. Now not only was she grumpy at Tembovu, but she was livid at herself. Fuck, she couldn't even birth him at the correct time. Her gaze slipped back to Tembovu, and gave him an exhausted, but happy sigh. "I suppose since I was an ass, you should get to name your first son." There was a sense of pride in that, and Elsa couldn't help but feel a little special that she could give him this. At least she was useful for something.
Edgar stared at the little family, before hopping over to give his own hellos to the baby. He cooed, flapping his wings as he danced in circles. This time though, he was extra careful to stay away from gummy baby mouths. Shida scarred the poor thing for life.
Elsa lifted her wing slightly to reveal more of her- and his - son. He was only pale in color like her, and with wings. The rest of him no doubt is a direct representation of Tembovu's bloodline. He was a looker no doubt, and overprotective mom kicked in. She'd need to keep all the girls away from him until later- even though there was no way she could actually do that.
But now she was happy. A moment that she could hang onto forever.
Nature's great masterpiece : an elephant ; the only harmless great thing.
“No, it’s Deimos’s,” his head whips from the colt, eyes wide and hurt, before seeing her sarcastic sneer, “Of course it’s yours, dispshit.” His gaze narrows at her deriding mumble, ears suddenly flush with his skull as she so easily satirized a question that shook his own soul. His lips part, teeth aiming to roughly nip her sweaty nape, so deep was his displeasure. Though his ears sweep forward and his attention was quickly drawn to their son, as Elsa’s was, by the wracking cough shaking his small body.
His concern was not as easily abated and still clung as lines around navy eyes that closely studied the new, pale body. An ear swept sideways, catching Elsa’s happy sigh, and his gaze glanced towards hers— freezing on her as all ire melted once her words sank in. “Name your first son. “ He stayed silent for a few, long moments turning to watch Edgar carefully greet the colt— his child.
The warmth in his barrel grew a grin on his face, slowly morphing to an outright smile as Elsa’s wing lifted slightly to show him more of their son. His muzzle reached out, gently pushing her silken feathers further back, “Let him stand, Elsa,” was his quiet, deep command. He needed to see his son stand, to know that he was real and truly alive.
Mbwene, in all her small annoyance, barged into the scene of the small family, heaving deep and trumpeting breaths. Pulled in by the strength of emotions emanating through their bond (awe, shock, displeasure, incandescent happiness), she pinned her bright blue eyes first on Edgar and, trunk waving, voiced her irritation at the zephyr for not waiting for her. Her attention shifted, then, to the small creature he was greeting (pointedly ignoring her bonded).
Slowly, she shuffled towards the heap of legs and wings beneath Elsa’s feathers— softly squeaking a greeting in passing to the Icebound— before her attention was wholly consumed by the creature that had enraptured her bonded. Her ears flapped, her trunk outstretched, first smoothing over the slick surface of his fur (he was cold), before poking and prodding all the angles of his wings and protrusion of his ribs. She harrumphed, this little creature should move, if he was so cold! Wrapping her trunk around one of his forelimbs, she sharply tugged.
Tembovu silently watched this, trying to find internal equilibrium in the face of being a father. But there was none to be found, for his world now lay nestled beneath Elsa’s wing. “Hawezi,” he finally said quietly, “for strength.” His gaze flickered towards the ice blue of his Queen’s, reaching his muzzle towards hers in a moment of solidarity— in sharing of happiness— before speaking to his colt, “Stand, my son.”
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