"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, 08:29 PM (This post was last modified: 07-26-2016, 08:32 PM by Athenä.)
athenä
Feel it as the wind strokes my skin
I am moved by the chill
Exhausted. The long distance between the threshold and the snow covered peaks was a lot longer than she remembered. But, the temperature change was welcoming. The painted mistress had always favored the cold, and it was the heat that made her remember the Basin. She had only come once, running into the lead stallion at the time, Deimos. She did wonder, if any of the childhood acquaintances still lived within its icy borders. Continuing, she lingered on the names of those she used to know. Her half brother, Adelric or Aeolus, Erebos, Zünden. What had become of them or did they even remember her name, her face? Perhaps none of that mattered anymore. She is bothered by the fact, that her welcoming party ended in a rather off note, the mention of her mother, not bound by blood- but more of a mother than her actual dam ever could have been. Instead she fled from the threshold, she didn't want to know what had become of her mother, and she left the group standing in the mud. And even though she fled, the memories haunted her Chased her.
Heavily, her hooves sloshed about in soft snow. Skin soaked in sweat, lungs on fire with the embrace of the chill flooding them. Muscles ache from traveling so much within the last few days. Velvet lips skimmed the surface of the frozen liquid, nibbling about to quench her thirst. Ice stinging her teeth as they grind against the frozen granules. She knew better than to enter a heard-land unwelcome, unattended. The merciless sentinel still towering over the entrance, guarding it's post. Tiredly glancing over her legs, noticing the mud stained ivory patches she rolled her eyes. Those mares in the threshold were irritating. They had no respect for pure beauty.
Realizing she couldn't appear upon the borders looking like a hot mess, she ventured out a ways into the ice glazed puddle near by. Hooves crunch in the frost covered ground, thrashing out hopelessly to find something clear or deep enough to roll in. To rinse herself clean. But to no avail, she turned up empty handed. "UGH" Her voice tarnished in anger and frustration as violet pools glance from side to side in search of a good spot. Her eyes resting upon a blue horizon, the ocean. Tired limbs pushed off in a quick trot, sloshing through frosted twigs quickly turning to cold mushy sands dusted in white.
She paused at the waters edge, the waves gently hissing at her feet beckoning her to come in. Dual toned lobes flip back into her dirtied locks. Bracing herself she shoved forth, hooves hitting the waters surface like bricks. Violet eyes widen to the cold, nostrils flare in a squeal of what almost seemed like pain. But oh the price of beauty.
She fell, the mud rinsing from her bodice as the waves licked over her skin. Quickly, she stood in a panic as she danced to the shoreline, shaking herself free. Steam pumping from her nostrils as she did her best to keep calm, collected. Fuck that. "Al-all-ll, C-c-c-cleean." She stuttered with a chill, droplets rolling down her cheeks and falling to the floor.
Onyx whipcord snap wildly to rid of the dampness, nape in a constant vibration as the cold bites her skin. Perhaps within the borders, there would be some place.. warm. She moved, eyes vibrant and determined. Nearing the borders of the basin, a shuttered call erupts through her muzzle. One of announcement, she knew they would come eventually, though for her sake the sooner the better. She paused just before the sentinels, respecting the boundaries. Her coat shimmering, steaming from the mixture of temperatures. For a single moment, violet eyes close and poll lowers, as flames burst and flicker upon her skin. It wasn't in a threatening pose, but simply to aid her in 'drying off'. As quickly as they came, they faded away and violet eyes arose alive and refreshed.
A hollowed precipice and a hallowed weapon, striking out against the world, served as a wild, calloused figure, aloof and indifferent, casting stones on flickering, smoldering heels, perilous and immoral. He’d spent hours merely wandering his grounds, carving potency and persistence, domination and dominion, until bedlam crackled over his mind and he was left with more burning ambitions, more restless aspirations, more summonings crawling over the walls of pine and fir. His ears turned, twisted, listening to the vocals as they reverberated between boughs and corruption, pulsing, pervading; too persistent to be ignored. Wolfish, carnivorous rapture stained his movements until they were a blinding motion of calamitous fixtures and rogue endeavors, heeding one more call from the denizens of the borders, Machiavellian notions sculpting over the possibilities of the lone cretin dwelling upon the aperture – enemies rarely announced themselves, so an intruder remained unlikely. Could it be a member of an alliance, come to seek diplomacy and political manners (where he’d gnash his teeth, grin and bear the tenors of diatribes and conversation, lose pieces of his predacious, puissant noose)? Was it some segment of acrimony and strife, a member of another force, another kingdom, begging, aching, yearning to tell him of unholy, nefarious acts committed beyond their walls, and he was needed at the front (to seethe, to indulge, in chaos and decadence, spill the blood of the inept, of the weak, of the useless)? Was it a newcomer, flanked by their welcoming crew, hoping to be accepted into their masses, curious and strange, wondering of they should flee or if they should stay, grow strong and bestial in the shade of mountains?
Upon his approach, he received his answer – a maiden, painted in black and white, familiar yet not all at once. As he neared, forbidding and formidable, a barbaric twist and turn of swords come to life (never put away into a scabbard; always capable of slicing, slashing, and eradicating), he recognized her for what she used to be – smaller, a child once nestled in the heart of the Basin, running, laughing, and leaping with the rest of the youths, wild and carefree, burning bright, promising persistence and turmoil when they aged. But she’d disappeared, like so many others, and he’d just presumed the girl would be among the many who never returned – dead and decrepit, mesmerized by other flames, drawn apart and away, or simply wasted away, gone to somewhere too furtive, too specious, for anyone to find. She’d been polite and respectful the last time he’d seen her, and she remained in the same stead, branching out beneath the Sentinel instead of bombarding her way through, clinging to what she used to know. His features, usually stoic, reticent, stony and impassive, permitted one arch to his brow, delving into curiosity and speculation, eyes wandering in brief examination and scrutiny at the state of her figure. “You have returned, Athena.” The curt crackle of his vocals erupted, then faded away, gaze narrowing a fraction as he grew all the more still, brutal, capable of committing terror, ruin, and devastation in one feral command – but instead of obliteration, irritation, exasperation at her leaving, he proceeded with an inquiry. “Where have you been?”
Feel it as the wind strokes my skin
I am moved by the chill
The horizon glittered like diamonds as the light reflected off the permafrost and soft layers of snow. Pools boomed with a vibrant reflection of the world before her. Athena didn't anticipate waiting long before a patrol or herd member stumbled across her presence. After all she did announce herself, this was the Basin after all. She wasn't the same as she was when she left this place. And her mind often lingers on the old girl she used to be. The joyful, carefree, young filly is night and day to what she is now. Her physique had changed, her once miniature dagger now a fully developed weapon designed to cut and pierce. Eyes once delicate and playful now held a darkness about them, one of taunt and seduction. Athena was a prize to be had, and she'd be the first to tell you.
Nostrils expand and contract to the sent of a stallion, hazed yet familiar. Violet pupils turn to the ridge as the dark form approaches. And while the onyx stag advanced, lobes pinned back in submission, her poll remaining it's normal state with black spirals aiming to the heavens afar. 'Deimos' The dual tone mistress brooded within as the Basin lord came into full view. Her name falls off his tongue and a smile crosses her velvet lips. "Lord Deimos." She purrs his name into a gentle whisper. Perhaps joy twinkled in her violet pools, but just for a moment. It was good to see the basin lord still lurking upon the dusted mountain base.
"Where have you been?" The Lord questions, and she is caught off guard. Perhaps she should lie, pretending that she sought out on a mythical quest to become a queen of some new realm. Or perhaps off spying or training to become some great warrior princess. Well the last part is partially true. "I went to find my father." Lyrics of honey pour from her fogged breaths. No point in making up a story on where she had been. "I've come to see if I could return home, to the Basin." She concluded, sweet and to the point. She was sure that if he still possessed the power to do so, that he would allow her to return to the safety behind their borders.
“You may,” he declared, listening, studying, only the phantom grace of his eyes maneuvering along the stoic visage; a statue among men, an immoral piece of remorseless flesh among the strong, intrepid, and staunch. Were he a better beast he might have asked if she’d found what she was looking for, her father, or presumed she’d grown in strength and sagacity, gained wisdom through soulful ventures and gliding whims. But he was not – he toyed with machinations, calculations, and measures, sought out wares for his herd, and rarely dabbled in the finer arts of discourse; his tongue still struggled with the capability, with the finesse, to pay tributes and diatribes to those who intrigued, to those who endured his curiosity. He’d rather dive into the throngs of creatures who wanted to live between the walls of snow and ice, who yearned to thrive along the columns of stone and mountains, who relished the taste of perseverance, who claimed it was in their blood, who settled like the rubble, like the ruins, and never let it topple them over. Whether Athena had acquired such nature would remain to be seen – she’d been led astray before, but he’d warrant and grant her a second chance. Some had received more, some had received less; he judged them as he saw fit – by the swagger of their steps, by the specious grandeur of their form, by the masterful shades clinging to their gaze. She’d never betrayed them, had never parceled off secrets to the highest bidder, had never traded away courage for ineptitude; he had no reason to deceive and cast her aside. The Reaper hoped his decision would come to some sort of providence, guidance, or gain, and the femme would find herself besotted with the glaciers again, instead of wandering back into the hillsides, the fog, the mist, or any other beguiling nature – too many had already, enticed and intoxicated by other things, and the Lord had stayed there, rooted into the ground, a piece of slate, a rapture of wrath. “What profession interests you?”
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