"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.
06-08-2016, 12:42 PM (This post was last modified: 06-08-2016, 06:17 PM by smitty.
Edit Reason: closing <div>
)
Hasovir
His throat was as parched as the Dorobo plains are during the dry season, or at least that’s what Hasovir was thinking. ‘Dorobo’ softly echoed in his cranium with each pounding step he took; dried hooves were slightly cracked and Hasovir’s expression read simply: unamused. He attempted to wet his maw with his cotton mouthed tongue and peered up at the blistering sun; everything seemed against Hasovir…at least to Hasovir. He furrowed his brow and slumped his globe back down towards the earth, allowing his substantial horns to weigh it down. The stallion’s pace held steady and his mind blank – aside from the distant words he would hear. It had been years since he last saw anyone from Dorobo or had it only been a few months? At any rate, Hasovir figured it would be for the best as he had nothing to say to anyone from there. ‘ANYONE.’ He repeated in his head, ‘ESPECIALLY Tembovu.’ At this thought Hasovir stretched his mahogany nape out and paused a moment to shake away the memories, the thoughts, the feelings. A sheet of dust emitted into the atmosphere, creating a beige cloud around his bodice and to him, these were the toxicities being left behind.
Many judgements have come and gone throughout Hasovir’s time of being exiled and at this rate he has been fighting a battle within himself to let go of the past. His disorderly mind will not allow this to happen easily. One day he defends his vehement acts of conquering, despite slaughtering too many without remorse; and the next day he repudiates that time in his life where the jealousy consumed him enough to push him towards the militant ways – succeeding in his acts but regretful of the shame he brought his family. The latter feeling is one that Hasovir can successfully stomp out, squash, pretend he doesn’t have those emotions. From time to time he can feel that repentance, although he is always unsure of what to do with it. A gathering of trees made way to the entrance of a forest, and he could smell the sweetness of water in the air. A solemn swing from his banner gently wafted pestering gnats away and that mean-hearted sun was rising higher into the stratosphere as Hasovir made his way to a discreet brook.
Nestled in between small prickled shrubs with light shade from a few adolescent oaks, the red chestnut brute dipped his rough maw into the water and rested there for a moment. Sapphire orbs gathered in his surroundings as the clear, refreshing liquid brought life into him. His stomach bellowed a low grumbling from the intake of water and so he lifted his jaw, allowing some water to drip sloppily back into the stream. The heat index was crawling to an unusually high temperature for the season and all was hushed. Hasovir assumed that any equine, unicorn, or peg was most likely hidden away until the cooler hours, which was acceptable to him as he had no intentions of making new acquaintances – maybe, forever. Twin pinnacles flickered at shifting branches when a gust of wind that was hotter than the sunlight bolstered through the small woods. Hasovir stepped into the brook and allowed his dried, dusty diamonds to return back to their sharp onyx color. His fetlocks ached, his hocks throbbed, and he realized he hadn’t had a decent meal in quite some time.
Pointy hips disrupted that lean physique of his, several ribs were noticeable whenever he moved, but the solitude from being banished offered a pleasant “I don’t care” for Hasovir. His appearance was never one to sway anyone, his coat dully shining from lack of nutrients. This was fine. As far as Hasovir was concerned he could do this for the rest of his life. Hadn’t he been doing it for most of his life anyways? He does not remember the last time he has heard his own voice and would rather like to keep it that way. ‘I probably sound terrible anyways.’ He abruptly thought, and cleared his throat subconsciously. In a world where no one is on your side, what’s the point in making connections? An elongated sigh escaped him and he planted himself wholly in the middle of the brook, his frogs feeling relieved amongst the pebbles below and Hasovir felt a curtain of exhaustion drape over his withers. Slowly, he closed his orbits and insentiently his head lowered another time, relaxing into the warmth of the day. Afternoon naps were hard to come by these days, but just when he felt himself landing into a dream he heard the loud snap of a branch.
"Rakt!" the Clovenheart hissed at his youngest companion when he stepped carelessly on a branch. Ashamin's tone was tough but not unkind, even though his black eyes were narrowing to nothing but slits. The red cerndyr looked back lazily, his neck twisting impossibly like an owl's, and rolled his gold eyes. Given their lack of pupil the movement was almost imperceptible, but Ashamin could simply feel the disdain. The former haruspex snorted but couldn't bring himself to be mad at his second bonded. A soft smile turned up onto his features, a glimmer appeared in his eyes, and he took a few steps forward to step on the same branch.
Lochan was still back at the Blood Falls, tending to Ashamin's small collection of things and searching for a good place where they might be able to set up some sort of semi-permanent camp. For now they were alone and they didn't need to accommodate any others, but after seeing Hotaru's wide belly Ashamin wanted to be sure that there would be some sort of stable place where his new child could visit him.
His new child. The thought sent a rush through him, a sort of chill that combated the heat of the day that sank into his black coat. Ashamin nosed Rakt tenderly and then pushed with him through a low wall of bushes, his steps light and his temper even. It was the first time in the long time that Ashamin felt good. He had the freedom of a wanderer again, and was no longer tethered to his herd. And as much as he hated to admit it, The God of the Spark had been right. His family was not abandoned, and the ties that he cared about were not entirely lost. If anything, he felt them to be stronger.
But in these wilds, unattached to a herd, he could make his own way and forge new connections. When Ashamin saw another stallion in the threshold wood he didn't feel responsible for selling the Basin to a stranger anymore, which had been no easy task. How many had turned and ignored him as soon as the snow had come up? It wasn't possible to avoid mentioning the cold in that valley forever.
Instead, the freed buck was able to walk confidently towards the stranger with a rare smile on his face. He looked over him quickly and cursorily, but noted that beneath the stallion's unique stripe marking were ribs that poked obviously against his hide. Age seemed to have blessed the bay, who stood taller but not necessarily stronger than Ashamin. With a good meal or two in both of their stomachs to level the playing field, Ashamin would love to see how the beast across of him operated in a challenge on the battle field.
"Greetings, stranger," Ashamin said with a respectful nod and a step closer to the stream. Behind him, Rakt leapt from the bushes and then further, into the stream. The red cerndyr paused, his mesmerizing gold eyes staring straight into the stranger's.
Sizing him up? Ashamin thought through their bond, his black eyes turning to watch his companion with care. The cerndyr only snorted and looked down at his own reflection, sending the painted buck nothing more than a mental image of a red splatter. The Clovenheart turned back to the stranger and smiled softly.
"New to Helovia or just revisiting the threshold?" he asked with a tilt of his head, not wanting to assume anything. His tail, long and tipped with coils, slithered belatedly out from the bushes and then curled up.
Hey nunu! I don't believe we've gotten to thread together before but welcome! I'm looking forward to threading together and meeting Hasovir. :) Please feel free to add me on skype (j.s.n.y.)
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
Orbits widened at the snap of a branch, sobering the brute up from his extremely shortened, drunken dream. He quaked lightly, maybe to a trained eye they could tell; Hasovir was mildly tense but soon his confidence seemed to stroke his ego and relax him. It was his first time seeing another soul so close in years and perhaps there were underlying layers of childish innocence, since it had been long that someone had acknowledged him. At a glance, he noted movement towards him – another unicorn and some sort of creature springing about at his legs. Much to Hasovir’s surprise the visitor offered a smile with his greeting. The brook quietly bubbled along, filling in the silence that followed the stranger’s questioning. Hasovir observed as the unicorn’s companion leapt into the stream and made eye contact with him, perhaps trying to read whom they were dealing with. Intrigued by the creature’s pupil-less golden eyes, he had forgotten to respond to the unicorn’s inquiry.
Raising his crest high in the air to meet the gladiator’s height, Hasovir let himself give a half smirk and replied, “New.” His voice was extremely low but smooth, listeners flickering at the mere sound of it. It had been a while since the vocal chords were chimed and Hasovir was surprised at how silky the word sounded. He turned his attention back to the small creature staring at its reflection in the water, fascinated by its blood red coat, which almost seemed to be shimmering. Hasovir looked back up to the painted unicorn, maw splitting a second time to speak. “Is this your friend?” He knew the answer but soon realized he just wanted to hear his voice again. The stallion before him was shorter, but his muscles seemed to be more intact than Hasovir’s own. His coat was shining, and his spiraled horn was wrapped around some sort of stone which did interest Hasovir tremendously, although he would probably not admit to that. Another feature Hasovir began to admire was the unicorn’s elongated whipcord; he watched as it appeared from the brush behind them and came to curling halt by the stranger. A hint of jealousy, maybe, that Hasovir’s own pendulum did not stretch so far, but it was best not to uncover envy at the beginning of an acquaintance. His attitude was shifting constantly, from wanting to be rude to being pleasant to the urge of running away from the situation. Hesitant of what to do, he decided to let the brook continue wash over his tender pasterns. The sunlight was proving to be the true opponent of the day, unseasonably scorching rays that succeeded to pierce through the young saplings’ branches were indeed making Hasovir warmer. His pelt was beginning to dampen from a light sweat and the cicadas overhead were growing louder, though he doubted there was any correlation between the two. Oculars gazed up at the stratosphere for a minute, reading the time with the sun’s position he had about four hours left of worthy daylight. Soon, Hasovir needed to continue moving; maybe further into what this stranger called ‘The Threshold’, to find a meal for the nightfall and shelter from any other curious spectators. Solitude is not something many can handle well. Some lose their minds. This thought had been a vibrating topic within Hasovir’s skull for years now. Or days. Or however long he had been wandering alone. Who knew at this point? ‘Have I lost my mind?’ he would often ponder, as he gradually made his way through mountainous terrains. The voices that would answer always told him “no.” ‘Am I going crazy?’ he would ask, his daggers kicking out snow during a winter storm. The voices that would answer always replied “definitely not.” And so with the confidence in their responses, Hasovir knew he had yet to become senile or senseless. As far as he knew he could handle isolation like a champion. There was the occasional quarrel he had within himself about his past, however with the years that carried on, he became a little wary as to what had actually happened and why he was by himself. Some days he knew precisely why and could feel his blood boiling while reliving the wicked events. As of late, generally everything was a blur. A few key terms would erratically show themselves but if he attempted to chase after them he’d be in a daze of misperception. At this moment, paused in his act of travelling, healing his aching pillars, Hasovir was losing site of who he even was. ‘It’s the heat, Hasovir.’ Which voice was that?
Talking Thoughts Voices
ooc: I was having a LOT of trouble with my table :(
The other stag's voice was smooth and almost comforting. It was nice to meet another in the wilderness and know that they didn't have to immediately get down to business. This other stallion (who it seems might just have awoken from some sort of slumber, given his startled surprise) did not seem in a hurry to find out everything about these lands. As far as Ashamin was concerned, that was a smart approach. He was always anxious to learn, but when he'd come to Helovia he had found that more often than not the knowledge--of magic, companions, love, and Gods--had found him.
Still, when the stranger answered a question and asked another Ashamin wasn't going to deny him any information. He had no secrets, save for the one of his clash with the earthen mare. It wasn't as if anyone knew enough to ask about that; even Ashamin didn't quite understand it, and given its trouble nature he found it simpler to push it from his mind.
"Then welcome," Ashamin said with a nod and a step closer, a gentle profference of his nose to the stranger in greeting. "I am Ashamin, and this is Rakt; he is my companion," the Clovenheart said, by way of answering the question. "If you choose to stay then you'll find Helocia is a unique land. Many who reside here find themselves bonded to another creature, just as I am to Rakt."
Ashamin locked eyes with his companion then for a tender moment, the smile on his features widening and trailing off into a faint nicker of recognition as the cerndyr lowed. "It's close and trustworthy company, something that's good to have if you choose to wander the wilds outside of a herd as I have." His long tail waved once again and he became suddenly and acutely aware of its length as it snagged on a fallen branch. Despite living a whole life with a mangled horn and a snake of a tail, he suddenly found himself jealous of the beats before him with two elegant horns and a more compact appendage. The grass was always greener, after all...
Ashamin huffed and took a few slow sips from the stream before lifting his features. His growing beard, an addition with his age, dripped and he appeared one with the wild. "Have you traveled alone for long, if you don't mind my asking?" Ashamin asked with dark eyes kind. He wondered, vaguely, if the other stag would continue further into Helovia and if he would do it alone. Perhaps they could stick to the same path for a short time, see where the land took them.
But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He was new to this whole independent outcast thing, after all.
Oh no! If you know what the problem is maybe I can take a look at it for you? Also would you like to be tagged, @Hasovir?
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
06-10-2016, 02:32 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2016, 02:33 PM by Hasovir.)
Hasovir
With no hesitation, the acquaintance introduced himself, stepping closer to Hasovir and speaking of his little red creature – or ‘Rakt’ as he said – taking a drink from the water and mentioning the land’s name “Helovia”. It was only a brief amount of information, though Hasovir detected he was getting rather light headed. Perhaps it was overwhelming to speak to someone, perhaps it was the heat. He anticipated a voice to tell him otherwise and opted to sip from the stream as well. Hasovir was feeling very unlike himself and could not seem to put a reasoning on why, yet as long as he was here resting he decided he may as well make use of the arbitrary company. “Ashamin, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” ‘Is it though?’ a voice asked? Hasovir continued, “And Rakt,” he looked down at the companion and nodded in acknowledgement, although he almost felt as if Rakt was a figment of both their imaginations – maybe because he had never seen such a species. Rising his serpentine once again to meet with Ashamin’s height, he introduced himself with his baritone, honeyed voice almost erupting the serene environment but instead it seemed to correspond with the setting. “I am known by Hasovir.” With this he turned his face so that Ashamin was able to see his facial scar that pierced through his eye trailing down to his nostril – as if to say “it means angry scar”. Hasovir thought about what the painted unicorn said, about wanting a companion in these lands. He wrote it off. Hasovir had been alone long enough to know he did not need a companion… ‘You have us anyways’, another voice. How many were there? These voices dissipated as Ashamin inquired about Hasovir’s time wandering. The million dollar question. Hasovir felt a wave of vertigo flow over him and he suddenly lost balance, leaning towards the left, staggering and then catching himself with a cracked diamond against the edge of the brook. ‘You are an embarrassment!’ hissed one of the voices. He shook his skullpan trying to gain consciousness and grunted, looking over at Ashamin to apologize with his optics. He flicked his lions-tail as if to ask it for balance and found some, planting his pillars in the middle of the brook again. Hasovir found himself looking into Ashamin’s dark twin pools, noting they had a glint of benevolence that Hasovir’s own orbs did not often show. He responded, despite feeling foolish for his moment of unconsciousness. “I have been…” he trailed off, mumbling underneath his breath because the voices all spoke at once and he realized he just needed to continue talking so that they would just shut their opinions up. Clearing his throat, the white-banded gladiator tried again, “I have been alone for many years now.” There was no emotion behind his words, only the stone-cold truth. He felt no emotion towards himself or the real fact that he was ostracized for doing what he was meant to – in spite of the lives lost. In way that made him a psychopath, but to most, just a militant monster. A voice attempted to mention something but Hasovir continued to speak to Ashamin, “What about yourself? What brings you here?” Hasovir felt his brain pounding, nice and strong, nice and slow. It seemed to join in with his heartbeat. Aside from the headache, he was at ease within his body now, seeing as Ashamin was more curious than precarious and Hasovir received neutral energy from him and his companion, Rakt. Hasovir found himself staring into the ivory colored stone that was encased around Ashamin’s unique horn; it was like this stone was emitting a tranquil energy and Hasovir felt thankful for this – although still envious over Ashamin’s overall appearance. Hasovir’s brain was thrashing about in his skull now and to make matters worse another strong breeze entered the woods, gusting about at a high temperature. The brute carefully knelt down into the small stream and lowered his cranium so that his large, bongo horns were parallel to the water. He then dipped them down at an angle, allowing the water to wash over his poll, carefully maneuvering so that his nostrils stayed above the water’s surface. Immediately the aching dulled. With a sense of relief he then rose again, the water dripping from his now deeply darkened horns, his face felt cool and overall Hasovir could feel the headache subsiding. The voices had been hushed since Hasovir had decided to speak over them earlier and he hoped that they would stay that way. Feeling like he should have to explain his actions he simply said to Ashamin, “Headaches,” while giving a sluggish shake of his dome. A truncated bellowing from Hasovir’s stomach nudged a hunger pain, leading Hasovir to reply, “It is one thing after another, isn’t it?” He smirked and quickly looked around, catching sight of a tall bunch of yellowing grasses near the water’s edge sprouting in between rocks. He swung his velvets down towards them and ripped them out – root and all – munching on it for an informal snack.
The exchange was pleasant, informative, and in some quiet way relaxing. Ashamin found himself relaxing into the moment and enjoying the company of the older stallion. There was something in that exhaustion that bled the sort of knowledge that the Clovenheart craved. He had a sense that this stallion—Hasovir, as he now knew him to be called—had lived a life of intrigue.
And since the former haruspex now knew the other buck's name he found himself speaking it readily. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Hasovir," rolled off his tongue with careful ease. It was a unique and foreign sounding name, but then again... so was Ashamin. There was a comfort in meeting another who didn't seem to be so obviously from around here, and the wilderness that Hasovir's striped body spoke of was beautiful as it rolled off of him in waves. When the older stallion flashed his facial scar, Ashamin closed his eyes and dipped his head in grave respect. Subtly he flashed his hindquarters, letting the dim light illuminate the gold scars that painted him there. He pawed at the ground, extending his bloodied leg and revealing the hooked scar behind his cheek when he opened his eyes and raised his gaze again.
The stag's solitude spoke of a life that Ashamin knew well. The painted buck had been alone for some time before arriving in Helovia; he had not always been so blessed as he was now, to have permanent company. He nodded slowly and his shoulders rolled to open his posture in a welcoming way. The other stallion's brief loss of consciousness was a cause of concern but Ashamin did not reach forth to help him, for fear of wounding the older gent's pride. Ashamin was young, but even he knew the stubborn force that often drove males to stand on their own. Wasn't that part of why he was out here?
"I came to Helovia some time ago, after the death of my father, and found a home in one of its herds. I served for some time as a seer for one of the Gods here, the God of the Spark. But I've taught myself to fight, and in learning that skill I've learned that I thrive on a certain independence," Ashamin said, surprised when it all came out so simply. He caught his companion's eye once again and was warmed by some feeling that traveled across their bond. Rakt was proud of him, wasn't he?
"It's always good to find myself in the company of another warrior," Ashamin explained then, though perhaps no words were really needed. "Someone who understands. I've been seeking others like you in this wilderness in the hopes that I might be able to establish a network of like-minded souls—those who understand that loyalty is a different and more powerful force than dependence, who seek knowledge in each other and know of war's hardships." When the older stallion moved to rest in the river, Ashamin did the same. A short flick of his tail signaled Rakt to follow suit, though the red cerndyr let out a soft snort and flashed a red rorshach test of complaint in his bonded's mind before dropping to his knees in the stream. Ashamin respected this old fighter, though, and wasn't going to dare and hold himself above him.
The clovenheart watched with care as Hasovir's intricately decorated head lowered to rest in the stream—headaches, the stallion said. Ashamin only nodded in soft sympathy and moved his face closer to Hasovir's, offering his cheek to touch in kind comfort. One thing after another, the older one said.
Ashamin paused, took a deep breath, and listened to the sounds of the forest around them. Hasovir's growling stomach had not gone unnoticed, and his frame and struggle to keep balance showed clear weakness. But this stallion could be strong, Ashamin had a gut feeling. He already had been in the past, hadn't he? And Ashamin had arrived in helovia similarly starved and anxious—similarly out of place.
"It doesn't have to be," Ashamin said then, brave and sudden. No, he was not who he had been when he'd first come to Helovia. "If you'd like, you can travel with me—train with me. I know this land well and could show you the bounty it carries." He looked at the other stallion's scar once more, traced its old lines of hurt.
"I believe we could learn a lot from each other, Hasovir." Ashamin concluded, his long tail sliding into the water as he did so. His dark eyes held kindness and curiosity as he sought out the older stag's gaze. Would Hasovir accept the offer or turn him away?
No need to tag me! I do like a message on skype, feel free to add me at j.s.n.y. (especially if you want to talk more about Ashamin's offer! I'm starting an outcast band and would love to tell you more about it.)
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
06-20-2016, 11:58 AM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2016, 12:30 PM by Hasovir.)
Time was passing, yet slowly. The sun lingered longer than Hasovir had calculated earlier and the humidity was still pressing on. White crystals of salt began to harden along the outlines of Hasovir’s dampened patches of sweat. The pounding in his head was muted now, if at most a dull thud every 5 minutes or so. The stallion listened to Ashamin’s story – how he pledged work to the “God of Spark” and taught himself to fight. Hasovir had mixed feelings about the “gods” but kept silent. Ashamin went on to say it was nice being in the presence of a warrior. This almost made Hasovir speak up, however he bit his tongue. ‘If only you knew what type of warrior was in your presence, Ashamin.’ Hasovir was positive that was his own, individual thought, as he could feel a small fire beginning to burn deep within him. That comment created something dark inside Hasovir, and he almost began to speak again, until Ashamin continued once more. Hasovir could feel this flame within him growing, a spark at a time. He was unsure why it was happening, but could imagine it had something to do with the fact that this stag wanted to band outcasts together. Hasovir did not expect this stranger to be the leader type. He could see that in his stature he had combatant potential, but to be a leader? Well… souls were often surprising so perhaps Hasovir should continue to keep his opinion to himself.
The light snack Hasovir devoured kept his hunger down with about 25% effectiveness. When the brute was wavering earlier and stumbled, he did not even think about what Ashamin’s thoughts were. Mainly because Hasovir did not lose sleep over others’ opinions. He knew it was all due to the voices, their now hushed tones lapping at Hasovir’s synapses desperately trying to crash through to him. Hasovir kept silent for a while, even after Ashamin offered his deal. “Train with me” – this made Hasovir want to barf. A once resilient, ruthless militant leader “training” again? Unnecessary. It was clear Hasovir was not as strong as he once was, the years alone without using his muscles for battle would obviously take a toll on his stature. Naturally thin with lean muscles, many would assume the stallion could not take a single hit on the battlefield; but this was not the case. Hasovir could move swiftly and hit harder. His sharp tongue gave him an upper hand, confusing opponents with wit and then slicing their throats directly after. Yes, it had been years since his last war so maybe he was not as quick as he once was. Perhaps training is what he needed…and yet. Hasovir compared the options in his mind, as if an actual scale was weighing the pros and cons of the decision.
He exhaled noiselessly and met his deep sapphire optics to Ashamin’s dark ones. “While your offer is generous,” he began, glancing down at Rakt, his twin pools now lost in the small deer’s scarlet coat, “I decline.” It was anti-climactic at best. He kept it short. He kept it simple, always. He felt no need to explain himself and no need to defend his answer. At this, Hasovir stepped out of the brook and up onto the land from which Ashamin came from. He kept his mouth shut tight, an expression-less face like the one he had when he entered Helovia, and his listeners slightly turned backwards. He started walking into the shorter shrubbery that was surrounding them, noticing some purple thistles which he dexterously plucked the flowers from while avoiding their sharp, prickling thorns. His lion’s tail slapped the right side of his bodice, giving a close hit to a nagging deer fly that flew up and eventually disappeared. The sweet taste of buds made Hasovir’s mouth water and he continued to snag a few more thistle blossoms before pivoting back to face the side of Ashamin. He noted the kindness that so effortlessly emitted itself from Ashamin; his presence was calming and his demeanor seemed strictly in good nature. A slight sense of guilt was kicking up dirt in Hasovir’s heart and he was not entirely sure why but he disregarded this just like he was the voices, if not more easily.
Hasovir’s ivory colored maw, now slightly stained from the vibrant purple blossoms parted once again, “I will not forget the benevolence you have expressed towards me, Ashamin.” Silence, and then, “Perhaps our paths will cross at another time.” His nape was outstretched, his pillars all showing their length. He tipped his cranium towards the sky and observed the melting sun, its course towards the earth had begun and the buzzing cicadas seemingly grew louder. The temperature may have been dropping but the humidity lingered in the air, Hasovir’s once dampened hocks and fetlocks had already dried. His optics fell back on that fascinating moonstone entwined in Ashamin’s twisted, fallen horn. Feeling that tranquil sense of assurance from it he said, “I consider you an ally. I hope you feel the same.” Hasovir thought this over after he had spoken it out loud and he decided that, yes, he did consider Ashamin as an ally. The blood chestnut stallion felt it was best for him to be unaided still. It was not the time to engage in group acts just yet, although he had been alone for many moons. Something within him was insistently pushing him towards another quest at the moment – and this was not it.
As the bugs hummed and the sun dropped, Rakt begin to vibrate with a renewed sense of energy. Ashamin watched his company carefully, analyzing every subtle movement that Hasovir made. None of it was an answer, no, not for some time. When the older stallion finally replied and declined, Ashamin couldn't help but be disappointed.
He wasn't sure what he had expected; had he seen his father in this stallion? No, he couldn't have. Ashamin would not have offered at all if that were the case. His father had worked alone, and though perhaps he had longed for a family for as long as Ashamin had known him, Veril had been too betrayed by herds in the past to trust like that. Ashamin had seen a warrior in Hasovir, though, and in that maybe he had seen his sire.
Whatever he saw, he must have at least seen it a little bit wrong. Not only did Hasovir decline the offer but he turned as if to leave, snacking on purple thistle-flowers and only turning back as if it were an afterthought. The words held meaning, though, and the Clovenheart nodded solemnly in reply.
"I feel the same for you," Ashamin said coolly, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. He did have an ally, at least. "Should you ever change your mind or seek a spar partner, you may call upon me, Hasovir," he said before turning to his companion. Rakt had begun to fidget, and was just as eager to move on as Hasovir apparently was.
It was disappointing that the stallion, who seemed to wish to be allies, had not recognized that Ashamin had asked for little more. But he would end this as Hasovir wished and bother him no further. His long tail swayed behind him and he lifted his forehooves, beginning to step into the growing shadows of the threshold. "Farewell," he called back with a nod. Rakt was impatient, and scraped his antlers irritably along Ashamin's flank.
Yes, it was time to go back to whatever home they were making in these wilds.
Thanks for threading! Should you/Hasovir change your mind at any point just shoot me a message and we can thread again. :)
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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