"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.
After the initial shell-shock of the tumultuous restructure of her life, Zyanya began to realize why living in the North was difficult. The chill sat in every shadow of the mountain, with only the sunlight filling your body with warmth. Truly, the Aurora Basin was steeped in natural beauty, but the biting cold of winter had not quite disappeared with the coming of Spring. Still, during the day, the cool, crisp air refreshed her, and at night, the lights dancing in the sky washed away the bitterness of the cold. For everything that had happened, the mare did not regret her decision to follow Frost Fyre to the Aurora Basin. The greatest reassurance of all was the feeling of safety in the heart of the mountains.
Settling into the land came easily with the help of Rexanna and her children. Despite the touch and go mannerisms Zya displayed upon meeting the family, she truly enjoyed the time spent with them. A few days had been spent acquainting herself with her new home, finding much delight in discovering new places. She nearly forgot her ordeals, finding herself lulled into a state of contentedness.
Yet, time passed, as it always does. The pallid mare found herself getting restless. The sense of security did not waver, but a new itch crept under her skin. In the past, Zyanya had been a very shy and timid child. Even in her former homeland, the girl had never been outside the nobles' lands, never saw the countryside that existed beside her for years. Despite the truly awful circumstances that forced her departure, the adventure may have changed the girl for the better. The new sights, the sounds, the smells, the faces - they all energized her heart and mind. A new light began to shine on the world, once so tiny, revealing its expanse was endless. With that knowledge came the desire to see more.
Walking steadily, the mare finds herself back at the entrance of the Aurora Basin, her soft lavender eyes glancing upward to the face of the Sentinel that had amazed her upon her arrival. The hollow, cold eyes of the machine did not appear so frightening now. Instead, Zyanya smiles brightly at the guardian. Before she leaves, the girl actually reaches out a soft muzzle to brush the giant in a farewell. "I will be back soon," she says to the machine whom likely could not hear her. "Be sure to keep everyone safe for me, Milo." The name comes off her tongue as a whim, but it seems to fit the great unicorn. If by chance the machine did have a heart, it might take comfort in being given a name. These are but the weightless musings of a naive girl.
The mountain range is large, which Zya had already known full and well. Snow still frosted the grounds for miles, but the gentle touch of spring began to show. With more and more steps toward the South, she began to see the seasons change before her eyes. Much like how walking to the Aurora Basin had been like stepping back through time, this was like racing forward. Weeks of winter disappeared with the hours. And, before she knew it, the snow drifts had lifted revealing a rocky path which lead... up.
Tracing the pathway with her eyes, Zyanya gazes in wonder at the sheer altitude reached by the peak. The top of it disappeared into the clouds beyond sight. Amazed, the girl cannot feel her cerulean hooves driving forward. The pathway being taken unconsciously at first, something in her heart desiring to see what lay beyond the clouds. Surely, the sun would be brighter. The air would be cleaner. The world would be better.
The clatter of a rock down the side of the mountain shakes Zya from her trance, drawing her back into reality. One misstep could have made her the rock, she realizes. The thought making the blood rush from her face and her body quiver. Taking a healthy step closer to the face of the mountain and farther from the edge, the girl continues. The path is long. The climb must have taken her hours, but soon her ivory tipped horn cuts through the very bottom of a cloud. Delighted, she rushes forward, only to feel the cool splash of water on her face.
Confusion abruptly fills her mind, replacing the former wonder. Clouds are made of water? she thinks to herself, head still literally in the clouds. Closing her eyes, she continues walking, feeling her body being enveloped by the soft touch of mist, beads of water decorating her pale coat. When the light touches her eyelids, the small girl looks out onto a brand new world. Unexpectedly, the top of the mountain is flat and covered in flowers. Thousands and thousands of flowers of various hues and delicate scent greet the new Helovian.
Stepping from the gray rocks into the soft grass was like walking directly into a dream. The mist from the clouds makes the girl look much like a dream, as well. Her tiny, pale gold and blue coat glimmers under the sunlight, as though painted with a million little stars. "Wow," is all that she can manage to say before letting out a delighted, quiet laugh.
06-20-2016, 02:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2016, 02:44 PM by Seanan.)
He likes this place. It feels... solitary. Even though it is bounded on all sides by rocky slopes and cliffs the clouds that hug close the rim of the fields make it feel as if it goes on forever. Despite the chill and the thin air, it makes him feel almost at home. It is a massive, flat expanse, seemingly edgeless except for the dim, far off shapes of other peaks. It is the desert but filled with life. Too, the grass is sweet. It is deep enough that he can practically bury his head in it and he takes a coltish joy in that, rooting through the grass in search of the most tender shoots. He delicately picks his way past flowers, each hoof lifting high and being set down with exaggerated care, even when he cannot truly avoid crushing the beautiful blooms.
It is peaceful. He remembers a time when he would take leave of his herd- not far leave, just over the next dune. Far enough to take them from sight but not out of earshot of a guard's screamed alarm. He had been lucky to have those he could trust to watch the herd in his absence.
Not that it did any good against the jealous gods.
The white stallion lifts his head, shaking it hard to clear the fog of memories and the brief glow of sullen anger in his belly. His ears flop comically and his short tail swishes lazily back and forth. The sun cuts through a little of the cold, enough that he isn't freezing though it is still cold. And he thinks himself alone until he hears a laugh carried on the breeze, soft and feminine. He stills, a toy horse made of spun glass.
Curiosity drives him into motion. His long legs stretch into a slow amble, a motion that shouldn't be graceful but somehow almost is. His head is low and relaxed, held barely above his shoulders. It rises a little as she comes into view, and his rose-tinted eyes watch her inquisitively. He stops several lengths of his long body away from her, his momentum taken up in a few mincing steps at the end. He stands with hooves too close together for his size. For all his height, something about his lean-ness and his posture makes him seem somewhat smaller. Unimportant. Non-threatening.
"Good morning." He dips his head in greeting but the movement carries through to a slight bend of his bony knees, dropping his narrow shoulders a bit low before he rises back to his initial position. Except his head continues to rise a little, betraying his interest. Despite his initial plan to enjoy solitude, the promise of pleasant socializing draws him like a fly to honey. One can only value solitude when one has lived without it. Too, one only learns to value the company of others after being too long in solitude.
She is tiny compared to him, no matter what attempts his makes. The distance he leaves between them is not just for his sake- he is forever jealous of his personal space- but for her's. With such distance between them he hoped that she would not feel as though he looms over her. She might shimmer with the droplets of fog caught in her sun-golden coat but he too shines, mother-of-pearl in the sun. Lower down, on the ground, he might be ordinary compared to the other denizens of Helovia but up here they are both the stuff of dreams.
Caught up in the picturesque world, Zyanya does not notice the approach of a stranger until he speaks. Her delicate face turns toward his, looking with widened lavender eyes at her new company. Despite his attempts to appear small, the girl cannot help but notice just how tiny she is by comparison. He easily hovers over her, though the distance kept between them avoids the sensation of being overtaken. His massive height is noted first, for it is simply unavoidable for one so close to the ground as Zya. Her head having to crane upward to take in his full appearance, mane dancing about her upper limbs as she does so.
The next item on the list: the absence of a horn. "Good morning," Zyanya forces out of her mouth as to break the awkward silence that had formed since his approach. In truth, she simply wanted more time to analyze what she was seeing without the lack of conversation making it feel like she was gawking. To be fair, she was, but the gentlemen did not need to feel that way. The dainty unicorn had never met an equine without a horn, making this encounter particularly unsettling for her. She wants to ask if he had lost his horn in some sort of skirmish, for warriors of her homeland sometimes had broken horns.
Not that she would actually ask such a rude question.
Sidestepping the horn issue, she notes that his height is matched by a thin body. While Zyanya carries a lithe frame herself, this stallion's figure takes the idea of thin to an extreme. His limbs are awkwardly long, even in comparison to his lengthy body, and she is reminded of her brother when he was a child. Iktan had always looked more gangly than others, but he grew to be much taller than she. Though, judging by the face of this stranger, he is no colt but an adult. Zyanya is not decided on how to judge this stallion, but forces herself to continue with pleasantries for the moment.
"I am Zyanya," her voice does not betray the inner feelings of uncertainty. The words are soft, gentle, and welcoming. "Are you enjoying the sun?" she asks, thinking the question neutral enough to avoid upsetting her company by simply staring. Even for conversation that she is half-committed to, she cannot risk upsetting him. Her long-timed appraisal of his appearance almost coming to an end, she would devote more attention to their interaction soon.
The more she looks at this awkwardly shaped stranger, the more beauty she begins to notice. His coat has an incredible sheen in the light of the sun, almost dancing with every slight movement he makes. His eyes also appear to match her own, but something feels more dynamic about them, as though their color is not truly lavender. These observations leave her undecided, still, on her current opinion of the stallion.
The nervousness accompanying new people is inevitable, but something about how this stallion's actions thus far have made him seem considerate allows Zya to feel secure in his presence. The tension within her limbs disappears slowly. Trying to relax, she gazes toward his face, a lost child seeking some sort of reassurance.
""
06-21-2016, 09:48 AM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2016, 09:48 AM by Seanan.)
As her head cranes up to take in his full height, he automatically drops his head so it is closer to her level, that they might converse without excessive discomfort. The awkward silence didn't bother him- had he not been responsible for the same on more than one occasion? Granted, those long silences were often on purpose, but he had no need to put this little mare off balance. Indeed, she seems tense enough that he dispense with any of his typical theatrics and even makes some attempt to still his normally unconscious fidgeting. So it is that his frame loosens, assuming a more normal stance. One hind hoof cocks, his body portraying easy, casual relaxation. His ears are attentive on her but one occasionally swivels off to the side, as if checking that he is not missing anything going on around them.
"A pretty name, Zyanya." He lets the syllables roll off his tongue as if testing them. He likes the taste, he decides. They sound a bit like music, or perhaps a flower. He could definitely see it being the name of a flower he decides, or some kind of musical instrument. "My name is Seanan."
His voice has a softness to match hers. The pitch is high for what one might expect from such a large stallion, gentle and almost effeminate. Yet it suits the thin, light lines of his frame. His head bobs in an agreement to her question and he has to still the urge to stretch, exposing as much of himself as possible to the sun's warmth. Instead he shifts his weight on his hind hooves, the other now sitting at rest.
"The air is cold here, but the sun makes it bearable. Even were it dark though I believe the beauty of this place would make it worth being frozen." He quirks his head a bit to the side, gentle humor lighting his eyes. "I have never seen anything like it."
There is a brief pause as he lifts his head to look around, drinking in the ethereal landscape. Then his head drops again as his eyes come back to her. "What brings you here?"
A smile dapples her face like sunlight once more, her pastel eyes noting his head lowering to be closer to her level. The relaxed stance of his body helps the ease slowly overtaking her, causing her own back hoof to mirror the movement of his. Without much conscious thought, Zya began to enjoy the company of this considerate stallion. Unlike the confident and proud mare Rexanna with her cheeky children, his actions all tuned to her own awkward pace. Comfortably she stood, perhaps for the first time in this strange and unique land, amid an ocean of blossoms and sunshine.
The compliment of her name makes her cheeks surge with hot blood, a blush of her skin underneath the pale gold of her coat. In the ancient tongue of her people, Zyanya meant forever, a name chosen often to mean forever beloved. Being the firstborn of her siblings, Zya's mother aptly picked the name. Her parents often doted on the small girl, protecting her from the harsh realities of the world for much of her life. Seanan introduces himself in turn, and quietly the mare stows away his name, matching it to the opalescent and kindly face rather than the his gangly and awkward body.
The answer to her question poses many others in her mind, wondering how the stallion found the air here cold. For under the gentle gaze of the sun, the air warmed considerably from the world below the peak. Compared to her home in the north, this place could be a sauna. Likely, he lived further toward the south the cruel winds of winter rarely touched. She almost asked, but decided not to pry too far into his life. Instead, she focuses upon the notion that this field held a unique beauty for both of them. Nodding gently in agreement, Zyanya speaks in almost a whisper. "Neither have I."
She watches intently as his neck stretches to survey the magical landscape, wondering idly how one becomes so tall. Wherever he hailed from, maybe height was a natural trait, much like pale colored coats commonly decorated the nobles of her home. Her musings cut short when he prepares his own question, and Zya's childlike face grows thoughtful. Why had she come here? Her answer could branch in a hundred ways, perhaps, but she did not want to bog her company down with unnecessary information.
"I grew restless in my home and wanted to see more," she says while looking out over the floral tapestry. "I thought the peak unusual for climbing above the clouds and wanted to see what lay above." Closing her lavender eyes for a brief moment, Zya turns to face Seanan again. "I am glad that I did," shyly she speaks, her normally delicate and quiet voice taking on a new tone. Glad to leave the cold winter of the Basin. Glad to see the flowers. Glad to meet someone so kind in this new land.
""
She is sweet and it makes him nervous, though it does not show in the languid posture of his body. She is small and golden and it nags at the back of his mind, trying to drag forward memories that he does not want to bare in the light of the unfeeling sun. So he turns his inner eye resolutely away from them, his hooves as firmly rooted in the present as he can make them.
There is no past. There is no future.
"I am glad as well, otherwise I am afraid that even a place so beautiful would have quickly become lonely." Truth, again, he could say no different. "Nothing is as beautiful in solitude as it is when shared."
Where had he heard that for the first time? His mother, he thinks. She was gentle. She loved, deeply. It was something she would say. She had treated him as though he were small even long after he towered over her- because Seanan had always been tall and could not imagine being otherwise. He lowers his head, lavender tinted orbs peering at the lush grass at his hooves. He sniffs delicately at some of the brightly colored Birdsong blooms, heads nodding in the gentle breeze that stirs the grass around his hocks. In the shadow of his own body, the lavender leaves his eyes their normal rose color, only to be conjured back by the sun when he again lifts his head.
"Are you from Helovia, then? I don't know if I have met anyone native yet." He quirks a slight smile because it is true. Some he has met he does not know their origins, but those who have spoken of it have all been like him. Migrants. He never asks what drove them to Helovia, or if they found what they sought. He doesn't ask, and neither do they.
Nothing is as beautiful in solitude as it is when shared.
Zyanya thinks about this phrase for a moment, wondering if such a thing were true. It is the nature of herd animals to socialize, clinging to each other for support. So engrained in her nature was this, the girl had never stopped to properly think about why she sought the approval of others. Surely, beside the instinct, there is some truth in the words of Seanan, the pearly white stallion with gentle eyes. A silent nod is all she can muster in return, for the gear of her brain crank away, trying to further examine her motivations.
With the acceptance of others, you gain emotional and physical security in a sense. However, we cling to those we love, those we know, only to be partially destroyed and ruined with each of their untimely exits from our lives. Whether it be through death or simply circumstance, the holes of their absence decorate our pelts, yawning darkness peering out for all to see. That is, at least, if you can't learn to hide your injuries well.
For the part of Zyanya, having naturally had a happy disposition and being raised in a climate where you were never less than joyous, it became second nature to pretend her heart didn't ache for the loss she felt. Instead, a smile sits easily on her face. Tears lay in a far away land where she is allowed to feel loss in its full capacity. A land distant and far. For the time being, at least, Zya hides the many injuries of her past well enough that the observer would never guess what happened to bring her to Helovia. She is light; she is kind; she is happy.
Eternally beloved, never anything less.
"No," she says sharply, as if he briefly saw into her past, which would be impossible. The sharp tone quickly fades, as though it had been an illusion, giving way to the same quiet, gentle voice as before. "I came from a land in the East." Unlike when she confessed her life and bared her heart to the world for Frost Fyre, Zya is in a much better emotional state. Her reservations about sharing the history - her being a refugee of a civil war, a useless wall flower, stay silent in her throat. "I guess you aren't a native either."
She smiles, finding a comrade, and thinking herself quite lucky for the time being. "I have met young foals that were born in the Aurora Basin," she shares, as if to assuage the invisible worries that Helovia is only a land of immigrants. "I had not thought to ask, otherwise."
"Seanan," the name tumbles out of her mouth in a sudden, awkward way, hesitation reading across her delicate features for a brief moment as she tries to meet his eyes. "What do you think it is about this place that brings so many of us here?" Is it the magic? The residents? The gorgeous landscapes?
He could not possibly know the true reason behind it, but for a brief moment, Zyanya believes he might.
""
07-13-2016, 10:24 AM (This post was last modified: 07-13-2016, 10:24 AM by Seanan.)
Had she spoken aloud, Seanan would have been quick to disagree- though others leave, and perhaps even take parts of us with them, they did not leave us ruined. They did not leave us less. For when they leave, they leave a piece of themselves behind. It is this patchwork that makes us unique. And he treasured every one of those patches, especially those of ones who were lost to him. Especially those smallest patches, the ones that he had never truly had the opportunity to know. Ones who had never had the chance to even know themselves.
He bobs his head when she asks if he is not from here either, confirming her guess. "I too am from the East, and South." When she mentions foals, his hide shivers, and his thoughts, briefly, turn towards those tiny slivers imbedded in his soul. Foals were such fragile things. It was silly to think there were no natives here. Still, something seemed to draw many strangers to this land, some to make it their own it seemed. Most of those he had met seemed to have quite taken to this place.
Then her question seems to echo his own thoughts and for a moment his head lifts, almost startled. Then he settles, one hoof lightly pawing. So lightly, he just scuffs the grass, not even reaching the dirt beneath. His head drops low as he considers his answer carefully.
"I don't know." He has to answer honestly. "Perhaps some have family here. Or perhaps it is simply that this is the farthest place east, and thus those who flee from the west end up her by chance." The white stallion pauses again, tilts his head, then rolls his shoulders in sort of shrug. "What do you think?"
The earlier assumptions made about him living far south were confirmed, and Zya smiles happily to herself. A fellow comrade new to Helovia, though Seanan did not seem so lost in this world. Instead, Zyanya got the impression he was comfortable in his own skin, despite the awkward proportions of his body. There were days still she felt like an impostor, but hopefully they would become fewer and farther between, before disappearing entirely.
His head lifts at her question, and the briefest flicker of concern? Concern, or something similar, flashes across his face. She is not sure. Hoping not to have disturbed him, Zya keeps a calm smile plastered across her face. A smile is often the easiest way to solve disagreements, at least back home.
His explanations are guesses, much like her own, but she nods lightly as he speaks, thinking them over properly. Knowing that she did not have family here, it seemed odd that immigrants would. Yet, what did she know of their lives? Chance, the other option he provides, leaves a dissatisfied taste in her mouth as she mulls it over. Lavender eyes grow distant, thinking carefully when she is asked the same question. If Seanan did not know, how could she? A wallflower, with no real life experiences, would have no idea why people were drawn here. She stumbled into the Threshold, so maybe chance really was the reason.
Though, what are the chances of hundreds finding their way here on accident?
"Hmm," she hums aloud, looking at him with a sidelong glance. "I am not sure. I feel there is something special about this place," her voice is quiet, uncertain, checking to see how it fared with her company. "Like something draws us here, without us even knowing." Then, a laugh, quite self-deprecating, falls from delicate lips as her eyes fall to the ground. The heat from the sun mirrors the sudden warmth on her cheeks, and she attempts to focus on the flowers below.
"That sounds silly, though," her voice murmurs, still audible but weak. "Like a child's musings."
""
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
