"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.
07-26-2016, 01:45 PM (This post was last modified: 09-08-2016, 01:45 PM by Alysanne.)
Well, that had certainly been an eventful herd meeting. And not the wow look how productive and united we all were! type of eventful. Theoretically, at least, this one would not see Tembovu shouting at her afterwards. But then, it was always hard to tell what he would perceive as a slight and what he wouldn’t. She had about a dozen other conversations that she wanted to have in the wake of her crowning (that word and all those associated still felt strange). First, though: business.
In the end, there were just three left and Alysanne drifted over towards Mauja where he stood near the lake. She did not want to assume to take up much of Tembovu’s time but she motioned with a small jerk of his head to follow if he wouldn’t mind, the glass of her new halter tinkling with the movement. Glass and purple stones - she felt silly wearing such an obvious creation, especially combining it with the crystal-coated feathers that she wore tied into her mane. After going a decade without much by way of jewelry, her current adornments felt strange and she wondered if they looked strange.
But, of course, she wasn’t exactly in the company of friends to ask at the moment.
There was no shortage of things that they needed to talk about but maybe should bring up just a few of them right in this moment. Or perhaps that was just her? Maybe neither of the unicorns in her company had anything to say at all after everything.
Questions were raging through her mind but in the end when they were all together she just asked one: “Are you sure about this, Tembovu?” But there was no venom in her voice, the question wasn’t an accusation or an argument. She hoped that he wouldn’t use this as an opportunity to launch down her thoat again for questioning his decisions but this was a huge one. Aly was weary after the meeting and she wanted to hear from him - without the audience of the herd - that he believed he made the right decision. Her green gaze shifted to Mauja as well, wondering what he thought of this - she was painfully aware of how foolish she had acted during their last conversation. It had hardly been very regal of her.
He felt like a ticking time bomb—full of sharp edges, splinters and shrapnel, a heart full of jagged things just waiting to explode. Each word rattled him, each breath carrying them like thick poison slowly settling in his lungs; a fine, toxic dust preventing him from breathing. It was sickening. It was, in Evangeline's words, disgusting, and she no less so.
Each and every one of them a zealot, steeped in arrogance. Rank with it. Each and every one of them high and mighty upon their personal throne, thinking themselves humble saints and fat upon their own pride. And he was no exception, having passed swift judgment when he should've been silent, and, in true I-am-better-than-them fashion having gravitated away from the discordant mass of souls.
It amazed him that it never ceased.
That they never shut up.
How in love they were with the idea of defending Tembovu, of allowing no criticism, no opinion but the one they carried in their flawed, mortal hearts.
Mauja felt his own undying one harden. Things would never change. He would see time pass, but the same youthful, prideful folly arise time and again; he would have to remember, to relearn patience, clarity, all those things he had lost to the blackness scorching his soul. The void had taken much of him, and as he gazed at his own cross reflection in the lake, he realized he had very little idea of where it had gone, or where it had even came from in the first place. A desire to be perfect, but perfection was measured in the eyes and esteem of others—so who would be his mirror, to cast him back at himself?
Stars were cold and distant. Perhaps he should put his faith in them again, and strive to be the same—strive for their frigid, cruel clarity. To become the observer.
Behind him, Tembovu dismissed the herd. Chatter and murmur and soft steps died out as the they scattered. Deep down, the monster in his soul rebelled, shouted out its confusion why anyone would allow themselves to be led at all, and strangely enough, the voice rising in contrast to it was the one screaming in frustration that a General's less than constructive criticism of the choice of Queen had completely eclipsed the threat of the Unbound. Was an internal threat less dangerous? No; perhaps the opposite. But an internal threat was known, could be analyzed, fixed even. Nyx wasn't unreasonable.
What was worse was the witch hunt, and how he had aided it, and the deep rents it had surely left in the structure of the herd.
Only two had spoken up about it, one offering the name of its leader: Ashamin. He had something to go on. He had something to do. It seemed easy enough. There was a plan. An external threat.
It was what he had wanted all along, wasn't it? A purpose—
But the anger lingered in his veins, a harsh, hot second breathing on the heels of his own, and he knew that feeling singing in his blood: the witch-hunter donning his armor, grabbing his scythe, knowing he would return smelling of fire and splattered in blood.
If he went out now, he would only find evil, not truth.
"Hello Alysanne," he said without turning his head, knowing her anyway, scent and sound, the pattern of her steps. His voice was neutral, bordering on gentle, and still he stared at the smoldering blue eyes reflected in the lake. One ear turned back as she asked the thing which had infected the entire meeting; are you sure about this?
But at the meeting, it had been met with resistance, with blind faith, with exactly the type of righteous fire which had had him shouldering the role of inquisitor and executioner. Had this been then—
But this wasn't then, this was now, this was the future, and Mauja wasn't who he had been, either, despite the fact that he still had a scythe. So he waited in silence for the Elephant King to speak.
He took a deep breath; it expanded the cage of his barrel. The black-sheen of his banded marking undulating as thick hide moved over large intercostal muscles. His eyes closed for a moment, navy lost behind black, as he mentally tried to grasp onto the calm that had suddenly settled into him once Alysanne had approached.
But, as waves on the sand, it slowly slipped and ebbed from his mind. Gone was the clear thought he had had while ending the meeting. Gone was the transient peace in his mind. Instead was guilt and uncertainty: Elsa, Mauja, Nyx, Orithia. All those that had spoken so rashly in the meeting.
The breath slowly pushed out past his black nostrils, lips pressed tightly together as navy eyes flare open—just in time to notice that Alysanne was drifting away from him (and with her left the calm; interesting) and to catch the subtle jerk of her head for him to follow. Despite (or perhaps in defiance of) all the unrest in him, a faint lopsided grin curved up the corners of his pressed lips; not yet Queen for a full day and already the Devoted was issuing demands to her King.
Heavy ivory hooves moved slowly at first as the King tried to gather his thoughts and mind. But then, with a forced and heavy exhale, his motions loosened and grew free. He had spent the entire meeting (and most of his days) thinking and planning and doing Kingly duties. But here, in the company of those he now ruled the Edge with, he could freely be himself. Still a King, but also wholly Elephant.
It was only now, as he approached Alysanne and Muaja, that he noticed the ornate halter that adorned her face. It was lovely and delicate and beautiful—perfectly attuned to the piebald beauty. A few creases on his face relaxed, eyes warming slightly (though always ever slightly on-gaurd around the testy healer) at her sudden, doubtful question. Though she had sounded strong before the herd, it seemed that she, too, let such regent-shields drop around those she would lead alongside.
“Yes, I am sure, Alysanne,” his deep rumble was easy, certain. Though the ease fell away as he continued after a short pause, “Elsa was a good Queen, devoted to protecting and growing the herd. But she and I—“ again, he paused, uncertain as to how honest he should be… And then his ears suddenly laid back, who was he to hide the truth and paint himself in a better light? Was not that the very foundation of the evil he had fought? “—I was not entirely truthful with her, and we shared intimacy as well as leadership. I believe that is what led her to step down…” His navy eyes glanced away, shame and guilt upwelling as he shouldered through his blame to his explanation, “And you, Alysanne, are someone who will not only stand up to me, but also will not let me fall into the same habit as I did with Elsa.” He had put it delicately, but his eyes still warily snapped back to the newly-crowned Queen; would his words bring her biting rebukes?
“And I meant what I said about your devotion the herd. You have been here longer than I. The Edge will be better for your leadership,” and, with the ending of his deep rumble, his eyes looked to the spotted man. Navy gaze traced the share blade of his moonlit scythe, before a few slow steps brought the giant closer to his friend.
“Mauja,” his low rumble was quiet and questioning, pausing for a moment to reach out and attempt to gently brush his spotted, silken shoulder, “Your thoughts?” And so he enlisted his friend in his capacity as Emissary: advice.
Mauja hadn’t turned to look at her but she smiled softly at his greeting, the expression softening her own voice when she responded. “Hello Mauja.” If anything, her voice was softer because he hadn’t turned - she wondered briefly if it was because he did not wish to look at her. Perhaps holding an impromptu post-meeting meeting wasn’t a good idea… but he had not told her off so she stayed where she was. The conversation turned from pleasantries and greetings when Tembovu showed, when he answered her doubts with certainty - which she greatly appreciated. It was almost revolting to recognize that she needed his approval in these moments. She was excited by the chance but she needed to make sure it wasn’t some rash decision.
Of course, Alysanne doubted that her name would be the first to Tembovu’s lips without any prior thought. Not unless they were getting in an argument.
Her ornate halter twinkled lightly as she moved her head, turning so she could speak easily to their King while keeping her body angled to welcome Mauja into their conversation as well - should he find the lake view less interesting.
Tembovu’s explanation was very far from what she had expected. Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she expected. Surely it wouldn’t have been a stream of compliments and, really, what it came down to made sense. Alysanne’s green eyes widened in surprised as he explained the very personal intricacies that had complicated his time as King, and it was refreshing to know that her distrust of him made sense. Polyamory was something Alysanne felt rather familiar with, even if it was for a short period of time, but at least everyone in her situation had known beforehand.
Thankfully, Alysanne didn’t have much time to psychoanalyze her own love life because she was still listening intently to what was being shared with her.
“Oh.” For a moment, Alysanne didn’t even know what to say. She actually almost laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that Tembovu had hurt Elsa and that was very far away from being funny. But she had to admit, the fact that their lack of intimacy or even friendship factored into his decision was worth a bit of a chuckle. Just not right now. “You’re right Tembovu, I most certainly wouldn’t let you fall into that habit with me.” Her tone was serious, not even a quirk of a smile in the corner of her mouth. Laughing this matter off would diminish how much she appreciated the fact that he had shared that information with her - with them if Mauja had not already known. “Thank you... for your honesty.” It was very, very hard not to lecture him. The timing and the evident guilt in his averted gaze stilled her words.
She had things to tell him now too - secrets that had been none of his business before but which would need to be shared at some point. If they were honest with each other about everything that they needed to be - perhaps this partnership could work.
For now, though, her attention watched the two stallions and she waited to see if Mauja had some input.
But sooner or later, even lakes ripple. The ground shakes. The mountain crumbles. A glacier melting into the hungry depths of the sea.
Mauja sighed—slowly, softly, an exhalation of all things tense and foul-tasting, one that seemed to go on forever as the heavy air left his lungs in a trickle. Anger was nothing but poison; anger made the blood run light and the veins sing, but in its wake was nothing but tar, burnt bridges and regret.
Black-rimmed ears angled backwards, but his head fell; bowed, to the lake's surface. He didn't touch it. He simply listened as he watched, mind running beneath the stream of words. Not believing in any kind of justification (because no one had a right to anything) was...
He didn't have words for it. Always striving for the logical path, curbing anger, curbing regret, curbing vengeance, curbing hatred and prejudice and his own desires—until there was nothing left.
Perhaps it wasn't so simple, the truth he had preached for years and years, saying to himself and whoever happened to listen to his darker moments I don't exist; perhaps the whole of the truth was that once, in the womb of his mother and the frosty air of his homeland, he had existed, but had since eradicated himself. Become nothing but a knight of ice, a heart of darkness, a frost revenant who acknowledges nothing gray. A world in black and white.
Tembovu's involvement with Elsa somehow did not come as a surprise—and strangely enough, sparked nothing in the void of his chest. No errant sparks flew to create fires born from jealously or hurt, a feeling of being left out; he was dead inside as he studied his reflection. Watched the fire go out in his eyes, replaced by ashes.
Drab and dreary and gray. Sterile.
(His eyes close.)
Should he be irritated that Tembovu chose a safe partner as Queen, or praise him for recognizing his faults? Was there beauty in a choice which served both herd and himself, or was it selfish?
Which came first, the hen or the egg?
“Mauja. Your thoughts?”
The silken black muzzle, (sinful in all it had caused), touched his shoulder. Softly. Cautiously? Mauja's eyes cracked open, his heart in shambles now that the bomb had gone off in utter silence—no reverberations through his bones, no echoes, no screams, but devastation all the same as he stared at the lake and tried to put back together the pieces of glass heart.
He didn't want this burden. He didn't want to guide those who felt so much more than he did—those both blessed and cursed to be alive. Not mortal, but alive, part of this world; feeling, thinking, bleeding, breathing, dreaming. Those who had a future in their hearts and minds, those who chased adventure and their hopes; not those who stood in front of a gray wasteland with no compass.
"I think you can be a great Queen," he finally said, voice soft, and his head turned to cast one blue eye upon both of them. He couldn't quite keep the sadness out of it. "But as Queen, you have to make sacrifices. You become more than the sum of yourself—you cannot act without thought of consequences. Everything you do will ripple. The good for the herd will come before your own desires and hopes and dreams. Ultimately, you have to give parts of yourself up, to be able to guide the herd well." One ear fell back; he wasn't sure he had given much of himself up to be a leader, but that was for the simple reason that there hadn't really been anything to give up. He was, after all, nothing but a driven chameleon, filling the chalice within with whatever brew seemed necessary. His pale eye slid in its socket, focusing on Tembovu. "What I did to you on the sand was not right; what I had just been through is an explanation but no excuse. Given all that we give up as regents, all that we face from within and outside, you could've asked her in private rather than thrust it upon her like this." And even as he gently chided his friend, his voice was soft, and his eyes sad.
10-09-2016, 07:19 PM (This post was last modified: 10-09-2016, 07:19 PM by Tembovu.)
Tembovu the Elephant King
The King might have chuckled at the Devoted’s simple ”Oh” in response to his candid, outright honesty. He might have grinned easily, inviting the others to join in on his amusement. Except the would was too fresh—Elsa’s stinging insults during their spar and her silently cold shoulder during this meeting too recent and painful—to allow him any kind of laugh at the expense of this situation. Instead, his navy gaze found hers, blinking once as his head dipped quickly in agreement that, indeed, she would ”most certainly wouldn’t let” him fall into that habit with her. He blinked again, in solemn surprise, as she thanked him. “You are welcome, Queen Alysanne,” his deep voice rumbled simply and quietly.
But then his great head and attention turned, drawn by the motion of Mauja dropping his head to the lake’s still and glass-like surface. Navy eyes watch his dark muzzle hover above the surface; but he does not drink. The Elephant’s own black lips purse, wondering if this sudden denial of thirst was some sort of repentance for the man’s outbursts and lack of reservation during the meeting. But the King said nothing aloud, instead simply wondering if this withdrawn Mauja was the one he would now receive—after naming him Emissary and now spilled his sins at the ground of his motionless, frosted hooves. What was the cost of the Edge’s leadership? Of power? His eyes glance from Mauja, to Alysanne, and then to the vague direction in which Elsa had disappeared…
He felt drained, exhausted from hearing and corralling all the angry outbursts and outraged voices that all wanted to be heard in the meeting; and (though he did not entirely know it) from the influence of Alysanne’s magic flowing through him during the meeting. And now, in this moment, he felt alone as Mauja’s dull gaze stared across a lake for infinite moments.
”I think you can be a great Queen…” The blue gaze stared through him as his sad words fell simply—and Tembovu’s own navy blinked and looked away. There was no recognition of his touch, no warmth of friendship or love in this soft voice. But then, in the moment, Mauja was not a friend, he was an advisor.
A single, black-rimmed ear tilted backwards, navy gaze staring beyond the Frostheart’s face to the spotted, satin juncture of neck and jaw as he spoke. His words were just, based in truth and experience. Thick black lips and his gaze jerked slightly as his friendEmissary referenced the day of his own ascension to Regency.
”You could’ve asked her in private chatter than thrust it upon her like this.” The chide was gentle, and (as the Elephant’s dark eyes finally swung back to his blues) his eyes were sad. A soft, long breath pushed out of his nostrils (he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it), before he looked for long, silent heartbeats at Mauja. Though the rebuke was gentle and honest, the Elephant cannot help that it adds to the burn of shame and guilt in his barrel already stoked by Elsa.
And so he nodded slightly, “You are right, I should have. If I had known the Icebound was relinquishing her throne, I would have.” His deep rumble was void of emotion and hushed. And then he looked to the Devoted, “My apologies, Alysanne.”
And then the burn began to grow into a need— a restless need for motion. As emotion always did to the Elephant King, he would rather put his body into action rather than sit and let his mind dwell on the thoughts that rolled through it.
So, with a terse dip of his great skull, he began to drift away from his two black-and-white cohorts, “Thank you, my friends.” It was laced with sadness.
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