"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.
Look at the wake from the stardust pouring from your eyes
It was an ugly winter, but not in the sense that most would assume, and rather a bitter season of loneliness for the spy and her devout companion. Everyone around her seemed to grieve for reasons unknown and in their wake, Essetia could do little to stem the growing pains of sadness that still clung heavily to heart. Elsa had come seeking her forgiveness and the spy had been more than willing to give it-- though the mercy she sought was not something Essetia could truly grant. It was that lingering blade, that festering would wielded against her soul that forced the new Queen into her friend’s loving embrace, but Essetia still felt as though her own promises in return were weak at best. What could she offer Elsa that hadn’t previously been offered before? After all, she was just a pale shadow of her own former graces, and Elsa… she was a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Despite the smoke that had long settled and the fire that had long smoldered, Elsa the Icebound was becoming a reckoning all her own. For that, Essetia was proud… and the young spy would see her friend restored to glory and solace.
The quiet snows of an errant storm fell lightly over the Throat, never quite equaling that which many saw throughout Helovia. The climate was too warm and too dry to invite anything but the summer sun as the seasons changed. Yet, when the rain fell or the snow came, Essetia couldn’t help but delight in the rarity, a beautiful gift from above. Her gaze trailed the soft plains of her home, drifting over the gathering of white and the wayward flakes as they shivered about against the bone-chilling breeze. All was quiet around them and both Essetia and Romul were thoughtful as they meandered, aimless, along the snow-capped dunes. The wolf was reminded of his heritage and was more than comfortable in the freezing temperatures, but Essetia was still unused to the dramatic shift in warmth from the unnaturally hot summer.
Even as Romul wandered ahead, his eyes occasionally turning back to find his companion well, the mare was content to pause in her pointless roving. Winter had brought not only the cold, but a sense of nothingness, of waiting around for something to happen. Essetia wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting for, but there was much she thought to deliberate before the growing season returned and all of Helovia had waken from its winter hibernation. Her mind was occupied by thoughts of Anaan, of Ulrik, of Elsa, of Ghost, and of the many faces she’d left behind in autumn. Where were they now that the snow had come? Did they think of her as well?
The skyline stretched before her and the threatening grip of the sea lingered just beyond, but the spy was hesitant to approach the precipice. She feared the gusting winds and the violent roar of the entity below-- the Dragon’s Throat was nothing like the Edge. The ocean did not greet her with such a pleasant whisper and the mists were not there to guide her to safety’s waiting arms, but instead she was left to her own devices… a concept that she had grown much accustomed to. Yet, in reality, that was how the mare preferred it; she was too solitary to act otherwise. That was her blessing and yet also her curse.
Frostfall was lurking the hell boy like an assassin and it angered the already raging bull within him. He was simply not accustomed to such weather, wanting and needing the heat of the fires that burned not just within his soul but also the ones that rose from the ground, the need to feel the steam against his obsidian pelt. But even in the deserts of the Dragon's Throat where it was seemingly warmer than other parts of Helovia, Abaddon still felt like he was being torn apart by the chill winds.
His herdmates had been few and far between, he had spent the past week or so travelling across the Heavenly Fields and keeping his distance from all but his little demon, Glasgow. His mind drifted back to those moments with a glint of something, but he put this to the back of his wretched mind as he continued to stalk his way through the Throat, with his neck tucked deep into his chest and his skull bracing the cold air. It was funny how even with the winds that whipped it, the scar across his right-side of his cranium burned eternally. It seered into his bones as it was close to showing them as it was. With a huff and a grunt he continued pacing down further into the terraria, feeling the need to be more involved once more. He had drifted for too long... But the light snows made it difficult for him to feel like he was going to make any sort of impact on the lives of the creatures he was supposed to serve but honestly did not give a fuck about. His life was the only thing that mattered, and even then he was ready to commit his soul to the Devil.
Eventually he had come to a point of lingering in the desolate space, before his pools caught something close by - a white fox. With a squint he halted and stood his ground, feeling grains of sand and snow sticking to the bottom of his daggers and plastering his feathers as he waited for the creature to do something. He tilted his skull to show his horns, ready to attack if the little fox came close. But in the near distance it seemed that another was following behind. One like himself. With a feeling of desire for the knowledge that he could gain from this encounter he quickly forgot about any sort of danger the wolf would possess (knowing that his horns would be able to gut it like a fish) and he began his slow walk to face the blooded-mud creature that walked towards him. As he got closer he managed to study their features, the cranium with the line of ivory across the left-hand side a stark contrast to the darkness of the pelt, but with a distinctive femininity about it. He grunted, another female. He was sick of seeing the kind, but he knew that they were the weaker of their kind and therefore easy to defend should she pose a thread. She was pretty with the charcoal tassles that ran down her pelt and flowed but even Abaddon was unsure whether his herdmate would be quite so... willing, to be offended. He then halted once more, flicking his lobes in her direction and there he waited. She would come.
[OOC: Sorry for the delay! I hope this is okayy, he's basically waiting for Essetia to get curious and come to him as he's trying to be cool ;)]
Look at the wake from the stardust pouring from your eyes
Still, the chilling whisper of the winter breeze pressed secrets against her skin. The mare had paused but it did little in the way of offering her purpose in the midst of much directionless pondering- this is, until all arrows landed north. Romul was the first of the two to recognize their company, though certainly not by name. It was his caution and curiosity that encouraged Essetia herself to level the brute with an inquisitive stare. On most occasions the spy was accustomed to evading the chance of small talk and more often than not, she was allowed such reprieve. But this time felt different- his gaze was too expectant, too open… as if he were encouraging her to approach. For a time Essetia merely watched him, her pale eyes dipping along the planes of his back and shoulders and then resurfacing to ponder the three dagger-like horns in which he was crowned. She’d never seen the likes of him before, but it didn’t serve to surprise her that such specimens were privy to the council of the Throat. He appeared like the rest of them: war-hardened and arrogant. Yet, those were traits that Essetia adored to dismantle. She was his counterpart in battle and the serpent that was meant to caress his ear with her silver tongue.
In truth, they were meant to stand hand in hand, but Essetia found it a difficult fact to accept. She was anything but powerful, yet she still possessed the wit and courage of a creature twice her merit. On a whim, the spy obliged her onlooker and moved forth to greet him upon the snow-kissed sands. Before reaching him, she called to him from afar, her lips quivering from the slight smile she tried to repress. “Do you think yourself a King?” she questioned sardonically. “Am I to bow before your Majesty or are you mortal like everyone else?”
Romul came to tend his companion and heeled alongside her shoulder as she moved. The two were methodical- a duo that had been given enough time to reason one another’s demands and sacrifice for them as well. Perhaps it was no wonder that the wolf huffed and snorted when it appeared to him that Essetia had drawn too close to their foreign company, even if he too seemed bathed in the heat and sand of the Throat. His burning red stare testified to that. His body spoke of war, or at least of bloodshed, and his demeanor told gruesome tales of a past Essetia did not care to know. She’d seen enough death to last her a lifetime… of course the loss of loved ones far outweighed the killing of traitorous adversaries.
When at last there was a comfortable distance between them, Essetia made a show of inspecting the brute with an admirable stare. It took her some time, but she wanted nothing more than to arrive at her point, to seal the game she’d started with a poisonous kiss. “You’re certainly no God,” she began lightly, “and no King… So what are you that gives you the right to hold yourself as such? I hear an inflated ego offends the ladies these days,” she finished with a polite, but steady smile. It was the first time she’d been properly amused since finding Caneo in the Threshold… though this heated exchange was nothing of the like. After all, she wasn’t trying to start a war within her family- she just wanted to start a fire.
He could see her pools as she evidently came closer, hauled in by his expectancy that the obsidian brute knew another could not resist. Abaddon still remained fixed in the same spot whils she did so, watching her equally as much as he was still. Abaddon could feel the gaze of someone scrutinising his body lapping over him before she then made her voice known to him.
"Do you think yourself a King? Am I to bow before your Majesty or are you mortal like everyone else?"
The words were the strange tongue of evidently a bemused creature, the fae giving him the impression that she was vain or jealous. Or at least something that was quick to judge on appearance. His heavy bodice with such a dark pelt, and his crown. A crown fit for a King, he thought lustfully, his hunger for power eternally stirring underneath that exterior. But he then replied first with a laugh that felt savage and indifferent as he followed through with words,
"King of my soul, perhaps. But no more a King than you are a Queen. You do as you wish, I don't care." Abaddon had no time for the words that passed through this fae's lips, he wanted to meet creatures yes, but to have not delivered the first blow of rudeness was like having an arrow to the eye. The hell boy did not appreciate a snappy dame.
But he continued to stand his ground in an effort to at least exchange further conversation with the mahogany creature. After all she was part of the same herd, and reluctantly someone he would have to defend when it came to battle, which Abaddon ever hoped it would. His obsidian coat was thick with the desire to keep warm for winter and the rage burning a warm furnace underneath that coat, but it still did not quell the need to be close to the fires that matched the hue of his pools.
The fae continued to keep her distance from him which he grunted at, not worrying how she would take this. His cranium had the expression of a smacked arse with his squinting pools and straight-laced velveteens. Abaddon noticed the companion that was with her, the little fox standing side-by-side with her but again its size was little to be worried about. If he were to tilt his skull just one way it would be goodbye fox...
Her gaze fell on his bodice once more, and he returned the favour with his piercing pools going against her figure, scraping the edges of her ivory marking and the dark edges of her tassles. What was her game? She continued her little speech once more, the words giving Abaddon the impression she just wanted him to bite. Oh. How he knew what it took to make someone bite the bait... He then brought out his words that he had sucked into his chest, thus letting the muscular shoulders and chest speak for themselves while he spoke to her on a level she would actually understand, "So you know I am no God and I am no King. But what's to say I am not in the presence of one?" Her smile spread and he once again replicated it, but the politeness was not given back. He did not appreciate her attitude, and his tone grew more sinister alongside the ego she spoke about, "I simply hold myself as I do, to call it kingly is only a compliment, believe me. And who says I want to impress any ladies...?" His words were short but elongated and his last sentence caused his brain to go back to his Little Demon. Maybe I have no need to impress a lady when, when they're so easily impressionable. This stranger in front of him was a bit of a bitch. He liked that.
Look at the wake from the stardust pouring from your eyes
The last time she had laid eyes upon such derision had been when she’d been captured by the Basin at the hands of Ulrik the Engineer. Of course, it wasn’t his derision she’d been coaxing, but instead her own. Again, she felt mirthful when her serpent’s tongue was set to wag… for the spy was nothing if not playful and a bit cruel. Time and circumstance had gorged on her kindness and Essetia had learned that having a gentle heart didn’t always account for one’s actions. She had learned that much from her father and his many negligible escapades. Essetia had grown up an orphan for such reasons and felt as though she was not obligated to appease anyone outside of common duty. Perhaps that’s why she so often struck bones upon which she felt she could shatter. However, petty insults wouldn’t always keep her adrift… that was something she was becoming sure of.
However, there were some creature more than deserving of her wily games, even if those brutes were to be considered “family” by name alone. In a land made up of warriors crafted to win battles with physical prowess, Essetia was one of the few who was expected to be sound of mind and logic. Was the spy willing to lay down her armor in order to engage a bumbling fool such as he- he who was clearly most comfortable poking beneath another’s taut skin? Perhaps it was just a foolish notion that had once inspired her to act, but now felt wrong in such context.
But oh, how he pushed upon her nerves.
He was clever, a trait that Essetia had not been expecting, and obviously vain (at least in her opinion). Perhaps it was only that Essetia wanted to see the ugly in him and find good reason to dub him soulless or wrong. Yet, she would be condemning someone who would offer their life to protect her own… She would be damning a man that would ultimately provide the pathway to a better future after the invasion of the Falls.
But it didn’t stop her from hating him for his eagerness and confidence. Men of his caliber were quite often swayed by very few things, but among them Essetia believed him to be compelled by blood, honor, and naturally females. There wasn’t much substance behind her opinions, but the spy was more than happy to think so freely… for what was freewill without free thought? “At least you’re more intelligent than you look. I guess the Throat is full of surprises,” she answered in kind, her expression impassive despite the slight curling of her lips.
Still she remained at a comfortable distance with Romul lingering close to her side. It didn’t escape her notice when those crimson eyes failed to meet her own, but instead sought the angry, golden stare of her wolf. It didn’t seem to faze the great titan, but then again, both she and Romul knew how to work well as cohesive team. They weren’t cut from the battle cloth like he, but they worked well in the shadows and were equipped for more strategic maneuvers. “Don’t worry, I think it’s frowned upon to draw the blood of our brothers, unless you intend to take their position… and trust me, I don’t want yours.”
Essetia recalled her first night in the Dragon’s Throat after seeking refuge from the ruins of the Hidden Falls. She hadn’t waited long to challenge the idiotic Bucephalus and had won, because the fool couldn’t’ manage to finish the fight. She’d taken his throne for a time… and regretted it later upon disappearing into the lands beyond Helovia. Grief was just as powerful as death… and it was too heavy a burden to carry alone when surrounded by those who promised to help you carry it. Essetia couldn’t remember a time when such words had proven true and so sought the healing remedies of isolation, whereupon her thoughts were her own and she was nothing more than a nameless face amongst the lonely masses.
Like a whip to the flesh, the titan’s words broke easily along her skin, and Essetia was forced back into her conscious like a bird with broken wings. He was severe and defiant, a combination of traits that she abhorred in most, but admired in some. “Then what God do you carry with you? Or what is it that you possess that entices them so?” she questioned almost absently, her thoughts further drawn from conversation. His next remark was of lesser interest as well, though the spy couldn’t refrain from catching the bait and feeding it back to him. “Well, I take it your interests are more swayed by the masculine type then?” Essetia smiled at this and turned a bemused gaze toward Romul who avoided peeling his golden stare from the beast before them. Perhaps his companion was the only one entertained by her own childish antics. "To each their own I suppose."
There was nothing in this conversation that Abaddon could constitute as friendly even though little physical menaces were not apparent. The obsidian brute could feel the burning within him as he felt through the tension between him and this blood-red fae, wondering when he was able to be the one that handed out the sharp tongue. The games that she played with him were like the two dancing tango and this he enjoyed, but more often than not he preferred to the one wearing the trousers. A little coarse smile ripped through his darkened velveteens as he imagined the tables turned. The ideas ran through his mind and thus he paid little attention to what was going on around him, even his pools giving that little glazed expression as he imagined all these horrendous things. To Abaddon, however, it felt like paradise.
But that did little to deter his aquaintance from continuing in her baying for his blood as she continued to play the game. This snapped him out of his trance. The glazing over his fiery pools subsided and his lobes pricked in the direction of her words, the surprise written over his skull at her lastest sentence,
"You think me intelligent? Do I take this as a compliment?" The dark humour in his tone was enough to show that she was not going to hurt him by words, and he reciprocated the favour by replying with an equal amount of humorous tone, "Perhaps you too are more intelligent than your looks let on." He wondered just how pissed off this creature would be by his comment on her looks, after all, isn't that all females cared about?
The distance between them had not reduced whatsoever but Abaddon didn't feel like he minded. He did not want to be too close to the dame, even if she was sort of attractive. Abaddon had eyes for nothing (well, at least that he knew of) but the chaos that his heart sought. And for this the distance was not a problem for him, yet he did decide that his pillars needed stretching and thus went about moving them in different directions with the feathers flicking up as he did so to be rid of the cramp that was starting to become apparent. She continued to speak and he simply had no care for what she wanted to talk about, which in this case was her trying to take his position. What position? Abaddon's tone grew dark as he grew tired of the fae trying to be more than she evidently was, "I have no desire to draw blood today, and I need no position." His words were abrupt and rather strenuous in saying.
His previous words on the matter of gods and kings seemed to chip that armour of the darkened fae, her words evidently giving the impression that she was now more interested in hearing what she had to say rather than addressing the problems she had with them. He had imagined her to bully her way into defying his words, but instead showing submission. He let his shoulders slightly relax before continuing to speak, with his pools still resting on her charcoal tassles as he spoke, "I carry the Gods of my people, the ones that you seek under the heated ground. The devils," he paused for the dramatical effect, knowing that only his little demon happily succumbed to their powers and knowing that the rest of Helovia's good and graceful abhorred the thought of demons, "We assist one another, they saved me and in turn I continue to give them my gratitude and my soul." His words were like a bite into the chest, the tone sinister as it grew towards the finale of the sentence. Just how the fae would react to the fact that she was in the presence of a demon-worshipper was only slightly predictable. And she continued her weakened boughts of fighting against him. He had little humour when it came to attractions and he answered her in the same enthusiasm he had for being here with her, "I like the feminine type of course, men do little for me." His short blunt words gave her little to play with, he thought. He just wanted to be away from the interaction of everything.
[OOC: Sorry it seems so stunted! My muse isn't flowing well today :c ]
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