"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.
Birdsong’s renewal came with light, indifferent showers. He watched from the depths and shadows of the Rotunda as the sprinkles came glancing down glass and colors, sprinting for ground, for ruin, for enigmas and deliberation. Amidst the grotto, he and Orsino were just another team of assembled mercenaries, wielding nothing but ample ministrations and fickle fractions of time. The fiend had an inclination to join the miniature squall, with its mercurial winds, with its tranquil features, with its foggy, abyss contortions, but remained, brooding along the inner chambers of marble and stone instead. His eyes glanced towards each aperture with careful calculations, as if sizing them up for future opportunities instead of wondering what had become of the girl who’d played Queen while he acted as soldier, if she was off somewhere reinstating her role while he wandered through the world courting his. He wouldn’t know what to tell her, what to say, if they ever met again anyway – and he resumed his pensive state while staring out into the swirl of mist and fog.
Sounds ricocheted from outside, another winding and wielding their way through the copse, perhaps, taking their time and strolling amidst the patterns of light, hues, and mysteries. He would’ve left them alone altogether if he wasn’t a restless contortion of curiosity and inquiry, devilish assortments all aligned into flesh and bone. His ears flicked right and left, and his hooves grazed against columns, idle, easygoing, perceived and punctured only by the notion of anomalies. Orsino barely batted an eye, fixating on other notions, other regimes to topple, other ruins to vanquish.
But the prince advanced, sticking his head out of one of the entrances, allowing the soft, dulcet plumes of the rain to drift down his features and stick to his eyelashes, narrowing his gaze to settle upon a frame near the pond. He expected nothing and no one, of course, there were too many strangers in this great, wide world to presume he’d see someone he knew –
Yet, there he was.
Not the Colossus, not the painted Giant who would always be the first on his list of future victims – no, this had been the beast who’d sauntered into the Basin, to sneak peeks at Enna’s child, to hiss and threaten, to bludgeon and destroy – he was never entirely sure what the reasoning had been.
He wouldn’t forget the markings, the strange blend of bright hues culminating in a massive frame, large, curled horns, or the warnings barbed, laced, down his throat.
He wouldn’t forget the feeling of rage, of brutality, of barbarity, searing and simmering down between his lungs, out throw his chest, down deep into the pulsing marrow of his soul.
The prince bristled then, dampened and soused by the rain, becoming ignited and touched and tainted by the pinnacles of inner fire. Somewhere nearby, Orsino pervaded his soul, and they both caught alight, an intertwining mess and mass of treachery and damnation.
If you just say the word, I’d hunt them down for you, he’d promised, even when she gave no oath, no proclamation, and ultimately ignored his requests. He was going to do it anyway.
“You,” he roared into the midday rain, lionhearted and avaricious all at once, pushing past the thundering of cascading rain as it came pouring down (as if his mother was crying, begging him to cease, and he ignored her too, like he did everyone else who told him to stop). “You owe me a fight.”
[Erebos vs. Misael Training Spar
0/3. 580 words.
Setting: Ancient Rotunda, midday. Light showers with a fine mist, starting to pour.
* Erebos calls out Misael.
* You may have first attack!]
To Think About:
* Emotions: How does Misael feel about battling Erebos? What motivates him? How does he feel about battles in general? Is this something he enjoys, or hates?
* Surroundings: How can you utilize the current setting? Think about the Rotunda, the grounds, the rain pouring down, and the fog. How can you use this to your advantage?
* Attacks: Oh lord, please include directions I would love you forever.
Looking forward to your post! Thank you for doing this with me!
The beast was tired. His body had taken quite the toll on his journey for magic; he had felt the pain of daggers in his stomach, weight crashing into his chest, drowning him with their icy clutches and now, the chromed had felt the wickedness of the Moon Goddess. He didn’t know if the magic he would gain would be worth all of the pains, but one thing was for sure; he wasn’t giving up. Even if it meant a powerful women of lavender and magical glares stood in his way, Miseal never gave up and he wasn’t going to stop just when the pain started to kick in, he would finish and he would finish with strength. There was no other way. The chromed did not bow down to the likes of fear, to the taunts of letting go, he raged through the fire until a medal of victory hung upon his chest.
In all of his exhaustion, energy surged into his soul like the fire across the needled forest floor, burning hot and hungry upon the sight of a certain onyx bearded man and his inflated ego. Memories plastered into his mind were painfully summoned, the chocolate woman and her horns piercing his flesh, the innocence of Miseal’s intent all taken as threats and violence. It was no memory that the chromed like to think of, no memory he was proud of, but if this ebonite prince wished for a fight, Miseal would allow the pains of his past to become a fuel for his fire. He did not think of Enna, did not think about how hurting her newest pet would hurt her, he only thought about the great pleasure that it would bring Miseal to see the man bleed.
The chromed was no honorable knight; he did not hate the fight as many did. A monster was allowed to be let loose and Miseal basked in the gloriousness of his recklessness, the freedom that the thrill of a spar brought him. The sounds of chains echoing as they fell to the grounds; as he was let free of his restraints, well it was quite a melody.
The setting was dramatic as ever; the rain slipped down his slick skin and fell into his eyes as it poured and darkened the day. He looked the Princeling over, he was shorter, younger, and Miseal easily beat him in strength, but the ebonite man would be able to keep his breath longer then the massive bulk of Miseal would. He would treat this spar as he had with Cera, excluding the wings this time. They seemed to equal out rather well, but Miseal would have to keep wary of the sharp horn that protruded from the asshole of a basiner as well as his companion that he had not remembered seeing upon their last meeting. Miseal would go for Princeling’s legs first, slow him down, wanting Princeling to feel every step of the agony that had welled within Miseal. That’s what spars were to Miseal, a relief, a way out. He was always too scared of himself and his emotions, so when the unlucky soul came about that wished to spar, they were the victims of his sorrows and furies—and Princeling would not be spared from Miseal’s blaze.
Miseal galloped forward, transforming all of his rage, all of his hates into a sword of strength, wielded of determination and vengeance. He could feel as the transformation took ahold of him, as his striped skin molted into something else—a beast in chromed clothing, golden hooves thundering their beat as water splashed around him and havoc ran wild.
In his current direction, Miseal would crash into Princeling’s left side, which remained true only if the boy did not make some change. Miseal had to concentrate hard on his feet, keeping his hindquarters pumping him forward but his balance stable as the rain penetrated deep within the soil of this war. He also had to keep a wary eye out for the companion, not knowing if the stallion intended on using it or not. Miseal didn’t know much about the bond between horse and creature, but he respected it at the very least. If it came down to necessary measures, Miseal wore his jade dragon upon his right horn and the sight of burns upon Princeling’s face would be quite amusing.
Miseal’s neck tucked in, all of his force pushing and pushing, hoping to clash into Princeling’s shoulder. It was a solid attack to Miseal, for this one didn’t involve having to watch out for the approaching fog and having to see through the sheets of cold rain, it was merely point and shoot. Shoot he did and a fight Princeling would get.
OCC: yay yay!
Damage Tracker:
Attack: 1/3
Defense: 0/1
WC: 791 via word count tool
:: [ Item: Jade Dragon | Offensive. Dragon is worn around unicorn's horn and can spew blue flames. (stolen from Oultik) ]
:: [ Restrictions | Jade has regular durability; flames extend up to 5m. ]
Soft and eerie, drumming with the drops, a haunting set of words nestled along his brain, scorched and sizzled, whispered and drew breath from condemnation:
He took her from me…
The phrase echoed, churned, beating, beating, beating a molten, vicious crescendo against his mind, melting and molding the wrath, the rage, stirred between his heart and soul. This beast had made Enna suffer. This beast had made her hurt. The notions to obliterate him in return were absolute, were vibrant, were intoxicating, curling and fanning like an alluring, beguiling siren. It was an opportunity to savor, to relish, impairing an enemy, lacerating flesh from bone – and he understood why so many clung to violence.
It was a way to devour, destroy, and wreak havoc upon something, someone, who deserved it.
The boy had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.
He blinked against the pouring rain as they began their treacherous waltz, pushing his daggers along the sodden ground, advancing through the muck and mire, studying, examining, the monster as best he could. He was massive, much larger than himself, some enormous piece of chromed structure, but there had to be weaknesses (speed? Agility?) he could expose. Would he tire easily? Would he fall to pieces on damp, soggy turf?
Before he could think of munitions to use, before he could brandish terror and deceit, destruction and demolition, the giant came at him, left to left, crashing and colliding with his shoulder. The mass, the bulk, of the hulking man nearly sent the prince sprawling, eyes widened and alarmed, watching as the dank grass appeared to be getting closer and closer. His legs buckled, slipped along the surface, and his shoulder erupted with a maelstrom of pain and torment. It took every ounce of his will, effort, and determination to remain upright, knocked and notched off-balance, off-kilter. It’d be more than a bruise, but a brutal, beastly reminder of mistakes, errors, and flaws.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t what he’d yearned, craved, and desired.
A deep breath pulsed from his mouth, flew into the fog, as reality began to itch and crawl along his mind. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake.
What if he didn’t have enough? What if he’d chased down a fiend more destructive, more chaotic, more powerful than him? What if he’d already led himself to ruin, and all he had to do was await the slaughter? What if this was just like he and Ashamin all over again, a renewed cycle of stupidity, arrogance, and vengeance?
He listened to the rain pounding against his skull, and her words stirred, fanned, ignited on him again, like a dream, like a nightmare, awakening and flaring his senses:
He stole her because I believed…
Erebos could almost imagine her there, conjured amidst the fog, doom, and gloom, smirking or shaking her head because she knew he was foolish and stupid, eager to compose their next outlet of mischief or mayhem instead of watching him fall.
But when he looked again, to his left, there she appeared to be, a satiny, soft image of Enna, a mirage, a cascading whirlwind of battle and dulcet whims – he blinked multiple times, and there she remained, smiling, snickering.
Orsino? He called along their connection, and the mare’s grin seemed to match his fox’s, and he knew, he understood, he could feel the reasons, the perseverance, flickering, fueling, and flowing through his blood again – the damned kitsune had reached into his heart and plucked out the very thing he needed. Together they would march down their pebbled road to Hell.
Her image followed his plans, perhaps the only time she’d ever oblige his requests (he almost laughed), turning and twisting through the rain and mist. Erebos hoped she’d manage to trigger the chromed skeleton somehow (annoy, irk, irritate, distract, deter), long enough for him to return his rage.
While she floated, like a ghost, like a wraith, like a phantom, attempting to fixate on Misael’s right, all silk and air, the boy leaned towards the left, trying to avoid the incriminating pain sparking over his shoulder (but then he clenched his jaw, seized the silent scream barbing his throat), intending to aim his sword down the beast’s left side.
He’d make his mark on the world, one way or another.
[1/3. 721 words.
* Erebos is struck by Misael on his left shoulder. The attack is very painful, and almost sends him sprawling to his knees. Due to Misael’s bulk, it knocks Erebos off-balance and towards the right.
* Orsino conjures a likeness of Enna using his magic.
* Erebos utilizes this opportunity to send the image of Enna towards Misael’s right, while he goes to the left, intending to use his horn to cut along Misael’s left side.]
* Emotions: Misael has a lot going on here, and I think you utilized them well. I really enjoyed several segments: The beast was tired. His body had taken quite the toll on his journey for magic; he had felt the pain of daggers in his stomach, weight crashing into his chest, drowning him with their icy clutches and now, the chromed had felt the wickedness of the Moon Goddess. He didn’t know if the magic he would gain would be worth all of the pains, but one thing was for sure; he wasn’t giving up. Even if it meant a powerful women of lavender and magical glares stood in his way, Miseal never gave up and he wasn’t going to stop just when the pain started to kick in, he would finish and he would finish with strength. There was no other way. The chromed did not bow down to the likes of fear, to the taunts of letting go, he raged through the fire until a medal of victory hung upon his chest. Your opening paragraph was strong because we knew where Misael was coming from, his frustrations, his anger, his exhaustion, and how despite all of this, he’s still determined to forge on.
I enjoyed this section too: The chromed was no honorable knight; he did not hate the fight as many did. A monster was allowed to be let loose and Miseal basked in the gloriousness of his recklessness, the freedom that the thrill of a spar brought him. The sounds of chains echoing as they fell to the grounds; as he was let free of his restraints, well it was quite a melody. He’s getting ready and he’s coming for you! ;D
* Assessing Opponents: I thought you did a good job incorporating the stats in the battle – they are pretty even, which makes it all the more interesting when the dice comes into play. He looked the Princeling over, he was shorter, younger, and Miseal easily beat him in strength, but the ebonite man would be able to keep his breath longer then the massive bulk of Miseal would. You also mentioned past fights and how that would/could possibly effect the upcoming battle, so good for you! Keep that up within the next couple sets of posts.
To Work On:
* Powerplaying: You have to be very careful here. While I asked you to use directions (because that’s just the way I am – I need to visualize and piece together where they are), the way you phrased them was almost on the line of powerplaying.
In his current direction, Miseal would crash into Princeling’s left side, which remained true only if the boy did not make some change. You fixed it in some regard to the last portion of the sentence, but remember you can never say what your opponent is going to do, or that your character has done something to the other. It is always left up to the roleplayer.
You may use intention in your writing, however, so that things come across as attempts, rather than outright statements.
So, instead of your above sentence, something like this: In his current direction, Misael could crash into the Princeling’s left side. Another alternative would be: Misael tried to aim for the Princeling’s left side.
* Grammar: There were some weird phrases nestled here and there.
Even if it meant a powerful women of lavender and magical glares stood in his way… - Should be powerful woman, since there is only one Moon Goddess. ;D
The sounds of chains echoing as they fell to the grounds; as he was let free of his restraints, well it was quite a melody. The semicolon doesn’t quite work here. I know I’m getting nit-picky, but everything counts. XD
You might be better off phrasing it like: The sounds of chains echoing as they fell to the grounds, as he was let free of his restraints, was quite a melody.
I use multiple strategies when I’m writing to hopefully remain error-free, and while it doesn’t catch all of them, it certainly seems to rake through the lot.
1. Write in a Word document. It doesn’t catch everything, but it removes my glaring, ridiculous errors.
2. Go back over, read it aloud. This seems to snag the oddly-sounding phrases.
3. Go back over it again, hours later. The brain has a chance to look at it from a fresh viewpoint.
To Think About:
* Don’t forget to utilize those emotions! How is Misael going to feel about Enna suddenly being there in battle? Does he care? Will it fuel his hatred or distract him?
* Surroundings: How are they going to effect his movements?
* Damage Taking: We’ll see how the dice rolls play out!
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