"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.
10-15-2016, 06:30 PM (This post was last modified: 10-15-2016, 11:18 PM by Noe.)
n o e
Where will you run to, little girl?
Heavy breathing and rapid footfalls are the only sounds to answer the silence. The rain child can give no answers, for she no longer knows the questions, the voices, the words. Once she might have laughed at the question, her voice a song of pattering droplets, silver bells. She might have turned it into a challenge (Where won't I run?) or a question of faith (Wherever the Gods of Sky and Stars lead). She would have heard the question and seen in it potential, seen it as the entire world in a brand new song, but today she cannot not hear songs or see life. She is deaf, blind, and mute, caught in a world that does not extend past her nose - cannot, so long as she is compelled to run.
It has been three days, and Noe is exhausted, but still the girl runs.
Sometimes she stops, compelled by the way her body aches, furious, refusing to move any more. In these fleeting moments she calls to her gods, humming a hymn on quivering lips and waiting for the rain to envelop her. She wears it like a shield, the last remnant of a priestess' robes, her body damp but warm, so warm, for the rain of her Gods cannot chill the girl. Everything else is monochrome, bland. The trees are streaks of black in her periphery; the grass is ash in Noe's mouth. Birdsong rings and it's out of tune. Only the rain is real or kind, and in her rare, stolen moments of stillness, the girl wears it like a second skin.
This time she stops beside a stream, taking comfort in its steady flow, dropping her head to inhale the cool water and quiet the fire that burns in her bones. It is dusk, nearly dark, and she has run since daybreak with few pauses for rest. She is tired, so tired, every muscle of her body screaming in pain, screaming a cacophony which drowns out the sound of suffering that haunts her steps. Noe ignores the screaming, ignores the way her joints protest, and lowers herself onto the sparse grass. Overhead, stars are twinkling into view, and she cranes her neck to catch sight of them. They are the same stars, her stars, and she takes comfort in the thought that her Gods are with her, even here, even now.
Even after what she has done.
The sun comes down; a sickle moon rises; the girl grows still, her fluttering heart now a steady beat. In the silence that prevails her voice rises, a quiet chord of a processional hymn rising from her inky lips. It's a child's tune, one learned by all the foals in her village, but on the rain girl's lips it's a haunting melody, a vibrato line of alto notes meant for no audience but the whispering trees. Most of the worlds are hummed, obstructed, but a single verse slides out over her tongue.
"At dawn the stars fall into the sea
I'll wait for You to come back to me."
As she sings, a blanket of mist drifts through the area, following the progression of chords and weaving among the tress. It encompasses the girl, a warm embrace of the gift from her Gods, a reminder that, if she has nothing else, at least she still has this.
She continues to hum in the silent night, her honey eyes heavy as she watches the stars.
Quite suddenly, one of the stars began to fall. From a tiny pinprick barely discernible next to the light of the others, it grew steadily in size and brightness as it descended towards the canopy where the runner laid. For a long while it really did look like a star; then, as it fell down through yellowing leaves and evergreen needles it became apparent that it wasn't so much a star as it was a comet. A very small meteor, blindingly bright and reeking of frost-cold energy. Completely without a sound - save perhaps from the churn of freezing air and curling leaves in its wake - it struck the base of a tree just by the singing refugee in a small explosion of premature winter.
For a moment there was silence. Then the stillness of the night was broken by the sound of wing beats and a terrified voice, not bells and silver so much as it was cymbals, xylophone or perhaps steel pans. Melodic for sure, just not as hauntingly beautiful or memorable.
"I'm sooo sorry! Are you okay?"
As though were she the tail of the fallen comet or perhaps an angel tumbling from grace Erthë burst down through the treetops, bringing down small twigs along with leaves green and brown alike in a messy downpour that splashed into the stream. She too landed there, cloven hooves breaking the surface such that the water was brought higher into the air than she herself was tall; but as she hurried towards the mare who's song had intrigued her into carelessness the steps caused neither ripple nor splash. There just wasn't any water there to do so anymore, turned instead to solid ice that appeared just where the girl set down her feet. From the coils of her long tail dangled a bony looking bow, gleaming of pale ivory even in the gloom beneath the trees; Erthë carried it high enough that it wouldn't come in contact with either water or muddy banks, but her focus lay entirely on the stocky girl and the slowly melting ice that showed where the arrow had landed.
"Oh thank the Moon, you weren't hit! I'm so sorry, I got distracted.. got to stop doing this, one of these days I'll end up killing someone!"
Ruffled and flustered and completely unaware of how pretty it made her, the young mare smiled apologetically as she lowered the antlered head towards the painted lady. Her gaze was intent as she examined the mare, taking in inky horns and toffee and cream colors without a trace of surprise. Indeed, though the mare was pretty enough in her own way, according to Helovian standards she was rather plain indeed, lacking colorful markings and possessing neither gold nor silver trim or even remarkable eyes. No, what was more interesting were the traces of exhaustion Erthë imagined she saw; faint lines of strain around the eyes, a thinness over the ribs and the dark stains of old sweat in places not easily reached by water. Had she been running? Why, though, and to where?
"I'm Erthë, I live around here... are you from Helovia?"
The night grows darker, the clearing still. Noe continues to softly hum, her audience of trees rustling appreciatively as an autumn zephyr brushes through their leaves. From beneath her blanket of summoned fog she watches the slow procession of twinkling stars, each pinprick of gas a distant promise, a faithful spirit brought high by her Gods. Once she thought she might be destined for such a fate. The undisputed favorite, the blessed child, the Voice of the Sky- how far has she fallen, from that moment to this?
A single star glows hot and bright. Noe squints at the burning mass, detached curiosity breaking through her fog; the song dies on her pursing lips, and she is left to wonder. It is falling, she realizes, a spirit cast out of the winking sky- and it is hurtling straight toward her. Its descent is marked, its trajectory clear. Is this her doom, come down at last? Have her Gods decided to strike her where she lies, burn away sins she has committed in a storm of fire and gas? The rain girl wonders, but is not afraid. She deserves this doom, she is certain of that; if her gods should will it, than so shall it be. For seconds she waits as the comet descends, her heart, for the first time in days, at peace. For a moment there is silence, a precipice of uncertainty stretching, razor-thin, between Noe and the world. She is no longer here - she is hovering, indistinct, above the ground; she is bright and incorporeal, watching a million scenarios play out. She can see it, the starfire, the vengeance, the wrath of her gods brought to life. She can see the onset of Death; she shivers with anticipation of that writhing figure, that shapeless mass which her people both revere and fear.
It does not come.
Instead there is a burst of light, one which breaks through her heavy lids and leaves faint umbras as her eyes fly open. She is back on the ground, in the world- she is real. Noe springs to her hooves, galvanized by the star's descent, suddenly alive in the absent of Death. She is rising even as the stranger falls; a blink of surprise meets the ivory creature's inelegant descent. "Oh-" exclaims Noe, momentarily bemused, her painted body retracting into a collection of angle and muscle and knots. Is this an angel, a wraith, or a star brought to life? But no, it is none of those things, and the rain girl begins the slow business of relaxing, caution still etched into the ridges of her frame. The stranger - Erthë - breathes a hasty apology, as though taking responsibility for the fallen star (Can she do that?), and Noe can only nod that, yes, she is okay, her lips a closed in a fluttering smile, her heart a gentle pat-pat-pat inside her chest.
She shakes her head at Erthë's next question, her long mane dancing across her neck. Helovia is a foreign name, and Noe wonders why her gods have chosen this as her site of pilgrimage, her center for rebirth. Silence falls again; the Voice of Sky and Stars holds her tongue, as taught, but her expression remains pleasant and warm, an invitation for the child to continue.
My gods have spared me, the girl reflects, gratitude making her dizzy as it rushes through her veins. They have spared me, and now they are guiding me down a new road. The message of the meteor is clear: the girl is meant to carry on, but with caution, with devotion, on a starlit path. She has been given an opportunity to remain in the grace of her Gods; should she stray, they will not hesitate to slay her where she stands. A fair trade, she knows, a benevolent gesture indeed.
Erthë breathed out in a long, slow sigh, mingled relief and impatience ghosting across her face as she regarded the woman. She had clearly heard her sing - it had been her, hadn't it? - and there had been a very real and very startled sound coming from this direction as the pale cygnet came down to land. But now for some reason, whether due to shock or something, not a sound was issued and frankly, the younger mare was annoyed. Surely the woman couldn't be scared of a little wisp of a girl like herself? Even Erthë herself admitted that she didn't look like much, and she had made it into a point to pride herself with. She was unpredictable, stealthy like a real sleuth, like Iona - so it wasn't that.
"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked again, furrows appearing between the eyes as she knitted her brow in concentration. "It was you who sang before, right? It was pretty, I wish I could sing like that... I know a healer who's really good at it too, but when I try it sounds like ravens fighting over something dead. Do you think you could teach me?"
She was rambling and she knew it. The shock of nearly hurting someone from a careless mistake still caused her to reel every time her eyes landed on the frozen patch, and no intent in the world to keep herself from looking could keep her from glancing over at it every so often. It wasn't hard to spot either; the ice practically glowed in the darkness, every strand of grass, every valley and ridge in the rough bark stood outlined in glittering crystals. Swirling and stretching and curving in on itself, the frost formed beautiful patterns and it would have been endlessly fascinating had it not been for the haunting vision of blue-black burns on white and toffee flesh that popped up in her mind in place of awe. It was a lesson indeed, one Erthë thought she had learned a long time ago. Perhaps it would take a third time, and a really serious accident, before she stopped loosing focus in the middle of something.
Pray it wouldn't prove necessary. Pray it would never happen.
Now then, what to do with this person? She really didn't look fine to Erthë even though she was smiling, and the mare was out in the forest all alone, and not from around here. The girl glanced around quickly as if to make sure there really wasn't anyone lurking in a thicket somewhere, shrugged and deftly transferred the weapon in her tail to the wing, where it disappeared into the folds of frost-cold white feathers.
"Right... well, if you aren't from around here, do you need a place to stay? You can come with me if you want, my herd accept all sorts or people. We live in a place called World's Edge, protected by the Lady of the Moon. It's nice, close to the see, lots of trees..."
She trailed off, keeping her pale, mismatched eyes trained on the mare in case she were to keep up the silence. Erthë really hoped she wouldn't - it would get very boring to only hear her own voice after a while, and staying quiet would be even more unnerving.
Every petal on every flower had wilted, or so it seemed without the sun, or Arah, or Ultima.
The lilies had all but blown away with the leaves, papery dead stalks their only remnants among their retreating undergrowth. Tilney witnessed this as his feet found their way above the fog, out of the stream and into the frostnipped field. The light would bid him farewell yet again, not that it had really been out today in the west or even central Helovia. It was merely a sickening grey sky growing darker as night set in.
With Maude in Glasgow's care the flaxen patriarch was confident he could slip away just for the night and gallop far from the Worlds Edge. Right now that was where all of his worries festered and rumbled. At times he felt they truly suffocated him; as if the only oxygen was past that sad excuse of a wall.
It was true that this was perhaps only the first in Tilneys life he suffered so much destruction and devastation. Not even when he was swept away by the tides and stranded alone for months on end did he loose so much character and so much of himself. With Arah gone he found himself without a piece of his soul. With Ultima vanished he found himself questioning his capability as a father to Maude, his capability as a Doctor, even as a herd member.
Days grew darker, it seemed he smiled less and less every day.
Perhaps if the sun would just come out for a while longer each day he'd get through. There had to be light at the end of this tunnel.
Tilney was known as being cheerful, jovial and kind; why did he wander the fog, sad and scared?
His journey took him to the threshold. Really the buck had no plans; he just walked here and there, lantern aglow among the night.
It wasn't long at all until he came upon a small gathering of two young women; one he recognised instantly, the other was a stranger. Probably a new breeze to pass into Helovia. The prospect of company begun to lift his moods, and the lantern between the fir and fog begun to creep closer to the assembled duo of equids. "Erthë" he greeted the growing doe with a nod of his crown, glancing quickly over the pale girl from head to toe to check she was well. She had grown extensively since they had first met, and he would probably always think of her as a little filly with too many questions. The tired physicians green gaze then turned to the other present, a doe of striking chimeric appearence. She owned a pair of fearsome twin horns atop her poll, and luxurious feathering to her legs. Lucky Erthë had wings and feathers to hold agains her body to keep her warm, Tilney and perhaps this mare were not so lucky. "Are you cold ma'am?" were the first words Tilney spoke to her as he begun to shed his cloak. Whether she said yes, or just No for the sake of politeness he would cast his cloak over her anyhow as any gentleman should do. It was freezing, so cool any could catch a fever - the doctor was sure of it.
With a glance skywards Tilneys gaze soo found their way back to the darling of his herdland, and then to the strangers.
"Out for a midnight romp?"
The way he spoke was almost scolding the younger does. He was after all concerned for young Erthë and what the devil she was doing out at such an hour, but on a night such as this it was not ideal to be out in the woods.
All manner of beasts roamed Helovia.
Ice coats the clearing, pristine and clean, a collection of crystals thrown off by starfire and the wraith’s descent. Slowly Noe takes stock of this, among other things; steadily her world expands beyond the point of her nose, beyond the trail of her past, beyond the distant stars, and into the greater reality of now. She nods, again, at Erthë’s chatter - yes, I’m fine - but her eyes are roaming past the pale mare and into the clearing, into Helovia. There is hunger in her face as she takes it all in, a newly inflamed interest in the world brought on by the mercy of her Gods. One dark ear stays trained on Erthë; the crowned head comes back at the suggestion of teaching, and for the first time Noe frowns. "I am not yet a Master," the rain girl answers, a hollow note of sadness ringing like oboes in the rich timbre of her voice. Nor shall I ever be, now. "I do not know how to teach."
This thought saddens her. Her Masters are gone; her home is gone; who will train her now, to be the Voice of Sky and Stars? How will she learn the hymnals, the chants, the sacred melodies that please her Gods? What is her purpose- what is she but a remnant, a priestess without a cause? The stranger continues her barrage of endless comments and questions, and Noe smiles pleasantly, her expression a mask of quiet acceptance to strangle the sorrow that beats in her heart. Erthë is kind, and generous, but strange; and for a mare taught reservation above all else, silent pleasantries are the go-to response. Still, there is no denying the attractiveness of an offer of a place to stay, and Noe can feel a dismal exhaustion settles into her bones. In the midst of all the excitement she forgot her weariness; how nice, to rest for more than an hour or two! The wraith calls her home a World’s Edge, and explains that its patron is none other than the Moon.
Noe perks up at this piece of information- she is about to ask more, to ask if perhaps Erthë has heard of the Gods of Sky and Stars, when another stranger enters the scene. The rain girl spins to face the sound, her brown eyes wide with a sudden fear, tension once more knotting its way into her musculature. It fades quickly: she does not recognize the tree-marked stranger, so the threat he poses quickly wanes, and Noe’s face transforms back into its pleasant mask, her lips pulling into an uneasy smile. The antlered man seems to know Erthë, and while the rain girl may wonder how, she nonetheless holds her tongue, allowing this reunion to progress uninterrupted. Indeed, she watches carefully, trying to gather how such things are done here. There is no blessing bestowed, it seems, no exchange of breath- Noe takes this in through cautious honey eyes, watching as the stallion then changes courses, approaching her. Before the paint can react a cloak is thrown across her withers: "Thank you," she responds automatically, her masked face dipping in gratitude. She is cold without the blanket of her rain, and tired. The prospect of somewhere safe to sleep appeals greatly to the Voice of Sky and Stars, and though she is loath to indebt herself she turns to Erthë once more, a mild smile heralding her incoming assent. "Your Edge of the World sounds inviting, Erthë. Perhaps there we might find shelter from the chill?"
Her smile brightens, and she shivers despite the borrowed cloak. She would love to surround herself with rain and disappear, but such an option is not available in the presence of infidels; her voice belongs to her Gods, not strangers, and so she holds it in as much as she can, despite the comfort her singing brings.
10-21-2016, 11:44 AM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2016, 11:45 AM by Erthë.)
"HA! I knew you could talk!" Erthë grinned at the painted mare, obviously content to have had her suspicions confirmed. It had been she who sang, because the voice which issued from these toffee lips was the same. "You don't need to be an expert to teach someone who doesn't know at all, do you? I heard you - there's no way you couldn't improve me if you wanted to."
The idea of learning to sing was already lodging itself into the filly's mind, if the glittering enthusiasm in her eyes was anything to go by. Eager to begin mastering this new skill right away she leaned forward towards the nameless mare, but was thwarted in her intention to ask more questions when something in the surrounding woods visibly startled the other. Following the direction of pricked ears and attentive stares, Erthë too spotted the antlered stallion as he approached. Unlike the star-singer however, the angelic young mare merely smiled and waved a wing in greeting, inviting the man to join them.
"Hi Tilney! Yes, as usual. It's rarer to see you this far from home..." An ear dipped back at the tone he used, and her return held a note of challenge. Did he actually mean to baby her now, after all the time she had been spending outside the Edge, on her own? Who did he think he was, her father? Her brother? Matter of fact was, he was neither and although she rather liked him Erthë did not have the patience for coddling.
"Don't worry about him, he's a herd mate of mine" she continued, turning back to the horned lady with a reassuring look. "He's a doctor, so if you're hurt at all it's best to tell him... Though that's all he needs to know, so never mind if he tries to meddle into your private business."
Proffering Tilney a barbed smile she refrained from commenting on his chivalrous gesture of giving the mare his cloak - she thought it looked cheesy, all sticky and overly sweet like warm honey - and didn't reply at once when the stocky miss commented on her invitation. Let the doctor do it, he was being chummy and stealing her thunder already so why not continue... After a few moments of silence however, she couldn't contain herself any longer.
"I guess so... Not that it's very cold here, do you really think so? But there's a lot of trees, like I said, so the ocean winds don't get too harsh. You're welcome to come and have a look, and choose whether to stay or not later."
Glancing again at the antlered stallion to see if he - being superior in rank and all - would object or wanted to take over from here. If not, she would be happy to guide the mare along the winding road towards their homeland; it was always fun to see people's reaction to her Lady's forest.
And if nothing else, they could always practice singing along the way. Now wouldn't that be time well spent.
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