"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.
Of course he'd gone looking for Ma, because what else was he ever gonna do, because it was Ma and she was gone and there wasn't a single reality in which he wouldn't have gone to look for her. That was a no-brainer. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to find her, and make her feel better, and bring her home, because she belonged at home with him. And that was that.
He hadn't even considered the possibility of not finding her, because that wasn't a possibility. He would find her.
Except he didn't.
He didn't find her at all.
She was just gone, and something of him had gone with her.
---------------------------------------------
Grey water carved into the grey shore. Somewhere behind him grey seagulls squabbled over a grey crab. The sun was distorted, hidden behind a film of limp grey cloud; in the distance a grey whale rose out of the sea, and from his position on the beach Zero watched it through dull grey eyes, grey snot drizzling sluggishly down his lip. Had he been crying? Probably, he thought, and shrugged. It didn't seem to matter much.
Very little mattered anymore, he'd found.
They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They neglect to mention numb. For a boy who's life had been defined by emotion, Zero had taken to numbness like a fish to water, fully embracing the comfort of it once those hot pangs of denial wore off. She was gone and that was that. She'd left him, just left, the way he told himself she never would- she left him, and what was he supposed to do, to feel, to think?
(Do you have an answer?
Yeah. Neither do I.)
A second whale joined the first. Two seasons ago this would have been the highlight of Zero's week: standing on the beach, watching whales, trying to assemble it all into a story he could go home and tell Ma. He would have danced, carving crescents into the virgin sand, eyes lit up like the fourth of July- but his eyes didn't light up today, and his hooves didn't dance. Even his tailfeathers remained uncharacteristically still. He'd stood like this for hours, unwilling or unable to acknowledge that a world existed around him. It was a good trick, he'd learned, for when his feelings felt like they were getting so big they were filling him up on the inside, growing and growing and growing, hot and cold and sharp and dull, a monster with poisoned claws tearing at the empty space inside his chest, its voice a thunderous roar in his ears, its breath hot and stagnant in his throat, its-
He choked, a shudder passing through his body, making the metal that nearly encompassed his entire left side and foreleg glitter in the dull grey light. Zero pulled his wing in tighter, as though trying to disappear within it, to wear it as a cloak. Against the scenic backdrop he was rigid and closed, silently willing himself to become a statue. A statue, unable to move or think, think, think I wish I couldn't think because then I'd stop thinking that if only I could fly then maybe...
maybe...
maybe...
Zero the Lightning's Son closed his eyes, willing away the rising tears. In a voice too big for his small body, too old for his young face, the boy whispered to the sea, "Happy birthday to me."
well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone
sikeax
The sea changes for no one, but when the water has warmed and the marine was more abundant, she could almost feel that it changed for those living within it. Not her, not Hobgoblin, not anyone on land, but those glued into it because their life depended on it. Waves and tides had threatened to swallow her whole and never spit her out, and while the thought is nearly calming, she can’t bring it happen. Hobgoblin’s body slips effortlessly through the currents with the occasional complaint about the warmth of the body, showing her images of whales that dwarfed his streamlined body and left them both with the feeling of being forever small.
It’s possibly comforting, but at the same time, frightening. His black eyes let her see them one more time before their massive bodies choose to swing downwards, pale blues staring out into a long palette of blue fading into the gray swells of cloud at a point she’ll never make it to. Two flippers break the silence only to welcome it back in.
Emptiness sets back in.
Sand sinks under her weight when she makes the gradual move towards the sea, watching tiredly as the foam riding the waves kisses her gray, cracked hooves and then pulls away with the fear and grace of a gentle, innocent lover who is beginning to learn the ropes of a new thing. Minutes pass before it births Hobgoblin entirely. Long wisps hang from his body and she finds no pang of terror when his body is something that is commonly unsettling, moving in lengthy, graceful steps that look as if they swallow the world when his hooves never touch the body.
Behind, she is ungraceful, swaying without a set rhythm as the beach sucks at her body and tries to draw her further in, ears caught up in the soft song of the ocean, almost slipping out of realit- “Shiny thing.”
He’ll always be the one thing that pulls her and keeps her there, that place where she feels forced to bare her burdens and face them head on, as if he chooses to encourage her to be strong through abuse. Lazily, her skull rises from the dipped state that she had previously let it limply hang at, studying the faint glimmer of an object ahead. Hobgoblin is already bounding, leaping with curiosity that she doesn’t match, leaving her behind, forgetting that they’re a part of one another.
No emotion really rings from him when he stops his movement. It is not to say that he is completely void of it, but the usual things are blooming. Curiosity, the drive to inflict something that she isn’t sure what is yet, there’s more but listing them is useless. The bay form constructs with the glittering attached, and for a moment she finds herself mesmerized. It takes her some time before she notices who it is and the low shake of their body, watching as if she is a passerby that just wants to stare at how nice his coat is and the growth slowly covering him, like someone who doesn’t care when she is forced to by personal oath and the practice of her work.
It would be rude now to leave. It’d put a nasty feeling in her gut for days and work it’s way into a festering mess of emotions that she would try to push away only to be crushed by it later on.
Her throat clears. “Are you okay?”
An indefinite amount of time passes before she feels that maybe this isn’t her issue, or possibly it’s the rising discomfort from Hobgoblin. Tears had an unique talent of making him uncomfortable, and regardless of how well his forms hid it, the lingering in the back of her skull is trying to work it’s way into her.
OOC: casually replies c':
Hobgoblin is in his wendigo form