"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.
09-06-2016, 08:37 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2016, 09:05 PM by Zèklè.)
Z E R O they say we are what we are, but we don't have to be
You leave the gathering, your heart a flurry of anger and shame, your blood pounding in your ears. Emotions play a dizzying game inside your chest, and you hate it (a new emotion in and of itself, hate, which only adds to your discomfort and hatred). Where before you felt nothing, now you seem to feel everything at once- and you can't, you just can't, so you take your broken body and limp away, back to the sea and your stash of stones. Gaucho fixed you, mostly - certainly he saved your life (which you can never repay him for, and you know this, and you hate it), but you remain a cripple, your broken bones and torn flesh not kit together quite right. Why? you wonder in a surge of self-pity. Why should you suffer, be beaten- why should people be taken from you, when you've aspired all your life to do nothing but be awesome? All you wanted was a life of simple excellence, with your Ma and your sisters and your friends and Gaucho and your rocks. Why did things have to be complicated? You did not ask for this, damnit!
You kick, furious, at a rock, and the contact makes your body shudder with pain.
You scream.
"FUCK!"
Fuck.
Tears burn at your eyes, and you bite your lip stubbornly, refusing to let them fall. You stare accusingly at the offending rock, a large chunk of bright onyx- one of your dearest prizes. You eye it critically, anger still making your breath come fast, but now the anger has a direction, a purpose- you know what you'll do with it, what you'll make. You inhale deeply, calling on your magic, and around you stones and metal begin to shift, your surprisingly comprehensive and deeply treasured collection of metal and stone trembling, then rolling, coming together as you focus in your grief and pain, deadening yourself to the world and becoming lost in your work.
-----------
You come to at last, blinking as the final stone falls into place.
The rich supply of metal and stone you once held so dear is nearly depleted; all that remains is some sandstone, shale, and quartz. You've taken the metal and melded it into an iron/bronze alloy, with hints of bright copper striping though; this makes up the bulk of the figure, accounting for what was once muscle and bone. The golem's legs are polished onyx, black from hooves to the barring. Lapis lazuli streaks across its chest. You use vibrant jasper for the handprint on his flank, and finely spun gold to mark the sun around his eyes. His wings are spun of black sand, silica pulled together and crafted into a fine, sturdy sheet of something resembling coarse beach glass. His mane and tail, though short, are made in much the same way.
But the final touch, the true sign that this is a labor of love, a creation into which you poured heart, soul, and emotion, is marked by the gleaming silver of Gaucho's eyes, antlers, and nose ring. For these are made not from scavenged minerals, but from titanium, your titanium- metal pulled from your barren side, flesh and blood, your skin made into a memorial of the father who brought you to life three times. It gleams in the autumn sun, a testament to the love you were never able to give him in life, the emotions you choked down because they were too complicated to handle.
You wish you could go back and tell him. Tell him he was a good Da; tell him you admired him; tell him he was everything you wanted to be, everything you feared you could never become.
You wish you could have been his son, not his kinda-son, and he your Da, not your maybe-Da. You wish you'd asked him to teach you to fight, instead of running off and having stupid adventures that wound up with you almost dead (and him right there to save you each time.) You wish that you had told him about your friends, asked him about the past, joined in with the siblings you know you have but never really acknowledge. You wish you could have heard that he was proud.
Your side is empty, stripped are of the silver that usually spreads across its length. It's a fitting image, an apt analogy, a metaphor for the hollowness that once again spreads throughout your body. You sigh, the sound of crashing waves heavy in your ears.
The golem is done, but it isn't enough. It's a crude thing, though artistic; distinctly horse-shaped, Gaucho-shaped even, but without the striking passion of the Wildfire. It is cold metal and stone- it isn't warm, the way he was.
You wonder if anything ever will be warm like that again.
"Speech"
Ampere Tae Grusha & any Gaucho kids who want? - if anyone else wants to join, please ask!
Feel free to have observed the creation process or contribute to the golem~
Zero is mostly healed, but still limping in his left hind, and the scars on his right flank, left gaskin, left cannon, and neck are fresh and pink. Basically he looks like shit.
Like sands through the hourglass, they trickled away from the bleak gathering, their eyes glazed and their minds numb. Some went to the oasis, surely thinking that they might drown their sorrows. Some took to the skies, as though the wind in their face and the sun on their back might chase away their grief. But one young stallion and one younger filly made their way to the beach, and it was there that their healing would begin.
In truth, the young sand princess was not in need of any healing. After all, she had seen the phoenix that was Gaucho's soul ascend into the sky, had seen his ghost appear to watch over the gathered herd. He wasn't gone, not really - it was just that they couldn't see him, and the dark shroud of death made it difficult to find one's faith. But she went to the sea all the same, following and not following the one-winged stallion, simply intent on getting to the water. It was there that she always felt the most at ease, content to simply watch the waves wash in and out, their repetition a soothing lullaby for her lonely soul. Even if she didn't grieve for Gaucho's death, his absence would still be felt in the days to come.
"FUCK!"
Vinati's little ears swiveled towards the sound, only a split second faster than her head. That was a new word, a bad word, one that she was sure her mother wouldn't appreciate - she felt it in her bones. She tucked it away for future use, wondering who she might ask about its meaning, and proceeded to watch with a raised brow as the young stallion kicked at a rock, breathing hard. On any other day, she might have pranced forward. What did that rock ever do to you? But today, she was willing to give her herd mates a bit of space. They were sad, and she was old enough now to know that sadness took many forms - even anger.
The rocks began to move then, and the girl watched for some time as the stallion carefully built a statue of various stones and metals, enraptured by the intricacy of the design. When it was finished and the stallion stepped back, seemingly lost in thought, the girl bounded forward. Without speaking, she called upon her own magic. Crystal sprouted from the metal, yellow-white at the base and fading to a burnt orange-red at the tips, creating an intricate pattern of flames that dance along the sculpture's wings. A thin layer of colored crystals, so thin one could barely tell it existed, was crafted in shades of yellow and orange and red in strategic places on the sculpture's body. When the light shone on it, it gave the illusion of warmth that the sculpture had been lacking, as though the sun above was highlighting rippling muscles.
"What 'bout Vorsa and Mara?" the girl asked without preamble. "They should be there, too."
The Ampere of years ago would not recognize her now; she who was so tangled up in another horse, a stallion of all things, that she could be crushed by his absence. Except, it wasn't just an absence, it was death. The passing of life was nothing new to Ampere, but in many ways she had never had to experience it when it was someone close to her heart. Gaucho was more than just close to her heart though, it felt like he had been it. Maybe she had just never event though he could perish - he had always been such a constant, as inevitable as the sunrise (which, given her history, she knew could be finite after all).
Whatever the reason didn't change the outcome. Ampere was adrift in world without her sun, and so she was plunged into nothing but night, a darkness that was interrupted only by the occasional streaks of lightning she herself emanated. What do you do without the sun other than go mad?
I'm here, Kygo quietly chirped in her mind, unsure if his presence might alienate her further - another reminder of her ethical failure, an additional realization of her selfishness if she hung onto his companionship. She seemed too sunken in to even have heard, as if his voice was a distant echo on the surface while she meanwhile was running out of breath in the depths.
Something akin to light - because it couldn't be actual light without him - caught Kygo's eye. Although Ampere's grief weighed him down, the curiosity always thriving within his soul encouraged him forward. It was the way they were already going, just further on ahead, so he left the mare he couldn't reach, knowing he wouldn't go far.
What he found was a complete surprise, and well worth the flight. A whistle of awe and excitement preceded his arrival as he shot forward on little green wings, circling the statue to fully appreciate it. He came just as the filly was adding her last touches, and he certainly felt they brought in the fire of Gaucho, for it was extremely clear that's what this design was, such was the detail the two had mustered. Alighting upon the golem's back, Kygo deposited the handful of black feathers he'd been carrying in his beak. He had plucked them from the body before Aithniel burned it away, thinking Ampere might want them but wasn't in the state of mind to actually take them. He didn't know that she already carried such a black feather tied into her mane, but it was okay because he'd taken several, and this golem was a perfect place for them.
Holding onto one still, for Ampere, Kygo flitted off the golem and landed among Zero's mane.
Ampere stopped short as she came upon the scene.
Eventually the glinting of the golem was too bright for even her to ignore, buried as she was, and so she halted abruptly, her tail and wings whispering against her body with the movement. Dry as her eyes had become and empty as she felt within, she immediately began to cry again. It was a quiet grief, a tired one, her anger and her energy spent at his fallen spot. Now she was just overcome by the loss, already more like a memory.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, the words forced out of the tightness in her throat. Her sides shook with silent sobs as she neared the memorial, her nose tentatively reaching out to touch the replica. She wasn't expecting it to be warm, but she hoped, so when he nose was met with cold stones she withdrew quickly, wounded.
Her gaze flicked towards the filly, recognizing her as the one near Sohalia when she and the Transcended had talked. She was grateful for the girl's desire to include the companions who's lives had also been lost. Ampere hadn't the strength to concern herself with them this time, so she was thankful someone else had the heart for Companions when her's was lacking.
"Thank you," she murmured to her son as she moved to his side and went to pull him into a hug in the crook of her neck - if not for his sake then for her's. She spied the black feather in Kygo's beak and gently used her magic to tie it firmly into place in Zero's mane, so that Gaucho could always be with him.
It wasn't often that members of her family congregated this way, at least not since they all found Gaucho's body. And so as the ghostly girl spied a few of them below, her interest was immediately tugged towards them.
Although Tae could craft, in a sense, it wasn't anything of the sort she was beginning to make out below. She and Grusha could mash their magic together to create undead corpses. It wasn't anything close to the calibre of technical skill of what she was now seeing (regardless of what Zero thought of his own work). She heard Vinati ask about Mara and Vorsa, and the girl could feel her stomach clench. She had taken the bodies of both companions, giving Mara to Grusha and keeping Vorsa's skull for herself. She was going to find some thread or strong vines to wear it around her neck. Now that selfishness made her halt on her descent down to them, fretting about what to do. If she arrived, knowingly holding the skull, wouldn't they ask her to donate it to the statue? And wouldn't that be a perfectly reasonable request?
Tae bit her lip uncertainly. Her pale eyes looked at the timber wolf at her side. Quickly, she gave him the skull and nodded over the hill. Bury it. Quickly. She commanded, before setting off a trot with her hellhound at her side.
Tae halted nearer to Ampere, but still standing more or less on her own. Suddenly her knees felt weak upon seeing Zero's creation so close up, for while it was only a rough approximation of their Father, it was him. She swallowed hard, her pale eyes filling with tears that she refused to let fall. Forcing herself not to blink, Tae raised her muzzle slightly as if commanding gravity to assist her in this battle.
tae
i'm a cold day in august, i'm a stream too shallow
i'm a heart shaped box with no letter inside
The Wildfire was gone. Though he lived in the hearts and memories of the many lives he had touched during his life, there was still an aching absence felt throughout the God’s herdlands. Gaucho’s presence had pervaded the Dragon’s Throat in a sense of strength and security. But now that the fire was extinguished, it appeared that cold discord permeated the sands, instead.
Though his daughter, Aithniel, had given Gaucho a fiery passing that he would have wanted, it left the herd bereft of anything other than their memories of the Wildfire. And it was clear that they still mourned—a frown crossed over his hot, flame-licked features. Perhaps they needed closure, something resolute and solid. Mortals always seemed attached to material, symbolic things.
Thus, in a slow burn of understanding, the Sun God gradually radiated into solidity alongside the crude, but painstakingly crafted, statue created in the Wildfire’s likeness. “Well done,” molten eyes, more warm than hot, looked down to Zèklè, knowing his meticulous efforts were driven by grief. The God’s flame-framed head looked to Vinati, hot and spiraled horns dipping as he acknowledged the flame-colored crystals the filly sent up along the statue’s wings. “A thoughtful touch,” his hot, godly voice approved of her addition.
He then looked to Ampere, the grieving Mother of Companions, whose volatile nature outwardly showed the depths of her despair. Molten eyes lingered on Tae, understanding but disapproving of her moments of selfishness regarding Vorsa’s skull. She was young, and youth coped with loss however it could.
A hot, deep breath blew out of his golden nostrils as his fire-licked wings began to spread. Plumes of his ever-burning flames engulfed himself and the statue of his chosen Ascended he stood beside. Blistering heat began to spread out around him, smoothing Zèklè creation and tempering it with godly flames.
“The Wildfire’s legacy will live on,” the God’s rumble overtook the Throat in a wave of heat billowing across the sands, shaking the very heart of the herdlands with his absolute conviction. Then, with a final outward blast of heat and flames, the fire sucked back into the Sun God and he was gone.
Left in his stead, however, was the statue. Slightly larger and more refined (for the Sun God’s vanity would not allow imperfections of his chosen) and the very same, heatless flames licking along the statue’s body. Occasionally a finger of flame would linger on the silver antlers, twisting markedly like a snake; and a flash of fire would break away, flapping suspiciously like a zephyr.
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