"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.
In the few hours after Rexanna's departure, Hotaru keeps it together. She smiles and nods and thanks people for coming to the festival. Keeps up her facade of elegance and mystery until the last of them crest the hill and disappear into the wilds, back to wherever they had come from. And then her face falls into something stoic and vacant, like there's nobody left inside the husk of her body. Turns away from Deimos' searching eyes and disappears towards the base of the mountains. No matter how many times she tells Alice to leave her, the hound refuses. Even when Hotaru turns on her with bared, snapping teeth and pounding hooves, the bitch only skitters away and follows at a farther distance for a little. Inwardly, where her emotions can't reach, she's thankful that Alice at least won't abandon her. Not like - but she can't even think of the golden's name, a defense mechanism to protect her from the realization for a little longer.
No more exasperated conversations that ease her stress and settle her mind. No more long walks and shared patrols. No more teasing and gossiping. No more soaks in the hot springs.
No more friendship.
No more Rexanna.
It comes out of her on a resounding scream of anger and hurt, head buckling and shoulders bracing as it rips across her vocal chords like gasoline on a fire. Every restraint pops free and her magic swells and explodes from her without control. Her skin rips apart beneath the first hurricane that snaps into existence too close to where she stands, and she's left weak-kneed as the energy seeps from her body. She's never summoned a twister so quickly, not even in her battle with Ampere, and she can feel the lack of control feeding the magic continually into the dark funnel of wind and concealed blades. The same ones that caused the blood that drip steadily down her now, a freeing sort of clarity coming alongside the pain as the storm eats up everything in its path, snow flying everywhere and crags of ice shattering as it rips up the earth below it.
Hotaru only watches it, slowly clamping down on the expulsion of magic if only to save herself from fainting dead away. She feels a bit calmer now, watching the hurricane tear apart the Steppe. A true force of nature. More powerful than Hotaru could ever be on her own. The exhaustion of exerting so much magic at once, creating so large of a storm...it also helps to ease her nerves, if only because they are deadened rather than livewires that scorch and shock her with every movement. So she simply stands there, Alice's warmth slowly approaching to lean against her foreleg, watching the force of her own magic destroy the environment around her. And she doesn't notice the calm, laconic tears that streak down her face as she watches it all go to ruin.
AISLING
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
The festival it seems, had been a success, and Aisling's own contribution had been well-received by most who'd come (that bearded stallion could take his poor manners and shove them in a great many dark and awful places as far as she was concerned). It had been entertaining to entertain she’d discovered, and though her predictions were not rooted in true precognition, she mused that it would be interesting to follow up and see if any happened to come true as time unfolded itself in the years ahead.
Still, concern weighed heavily on Aisling's heart as she had released her circle and extinguished her fires. She had said her goodbyes, had seen the Lady of the Basin there too, as the herd had bid farewell to its guests, but the pink form had been lost in the crowd then, retreated before Aisling could reach out to her. That imitate disappearance had heightened the little enchantress’ sense of urgency and so had not even taken the time to wash the blue paint from her skin before beginning her pursuit.
Hotaru had looked so very lost when she had come to the fortune telling circle, so uncertain and so in need as she had asked for a glimpse of the future that the encounter had left Aisling quite baffled. The pink lady, in the few interactions they had shared, had always seemed collected, confident, in control; perhaps it had been their short acquaintance, or the gap of leader to led that had caused Aisling to expect a certain level of formality between them. Hotaru had broken that formality, shifted in to a mysterious sorry of intimacy in the span on moments when she came to Aisling as a supplicant. Unlike the other fortunes she had given, Hotaru’s had been spoken only for the lady’s ears, and it had not been prophecy so much as a promise. Hotaru had given Aisling a home, however indirectly, but without any doubt, the mare had also given her an occupation and a purpose. Aisling would go to great lengths to pay such a debt, would give her loyalty for it, and now she gave her compassion as well.
The little mare had followed, asking a series of "have you seen..."'s in order to pick of the trail or the Valkyrie's retreat northeast toward the Frostbreath Steppe. With a newly hatched Sorcha (who had been tucked away napping during most of the festival) perched lightly on her withers, Aisling had made to track the Lead's movements. If Hotaru was in trouble it boded ill, for the herd surely, but Aisling would not have left any of the herd to face their personal battles alone either; these people were quickly becoming her family, and Aisling loved and supported her family to the stars and back.
When a mighty storm rose, fear stabbed into Aisling's heart but she was a valiant lass down at the deepest core or her even if that part had oft' been hidden by inexperience or overridden by childish fancy. She surged forward over the snow-dusted Steppe, desperate to find Hotaru and found the pink mare just beyond the next rise. Though the twisters raged, tearing apart the land and blowing snow like a lizard around the land with the residual winds that stretched beyond the main columns, Hotaru stood like a statue in their midst. She was bleeding, lattice cuts crossing her body and dripping in garish red, Aisling almost screamed terror. Was this her doing? Was this raging tempest a reflection of whatever tortured The Valkyrie? "Sorcha, hold tight!" the little mare ordered, and then surged forward into the storm.
Poor little Sorcha quaked but clung madly to the thick braid the hugged her bonded’s neck; the little dragon was no bigger in body than a large squirrel (though considerably longer) and the raging winds pulled fiercely, trying to tear her her perch. "Hold on!" Aisling begged of her as she ran, dodging flying debris as she struggled to reach Hotaru. Sharp shards of ice struck the little mare but were merciful to the dragon, and by the lime she was just yards behind the other mare, Aisling had a bleeding lip and red scratches arrayed across her body though they were nothing compared to Hotaru’s cuts. "My Lady!" she shouted above the roaring winds, desperate to pull her from the grip of this power. She could see now that the mare was crying and her tender heart ached for her even in the grip of fear. "Hotaru, please—"
Table style by Tamme!
pffft what are timelines, Sorcha is definitely born >.>
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
Alice is far behind her, now. Howling and pacing at the edge of the storm, lunging forward only to be sliced for her desperation, whimpering and whining as she both witnesses and feels - in distant, echoing pangs - the deep lacerations appearing on her sister's rosen bodice. They appear in multitudes, and Alice is astounded by how far Hotaru has retreated in her grief, for she scarcely flinches with each addition to her fine-boned body. But when Aisling comes, a valiant warrior against the onslaught of her bonded's storming emotions, Alice runs to her. A sister in arms. Remembering the night of mystery and promise that had been shared with her Alpha. Remembering sneaks and thieves in the fold, birds of a feather who could have once been friends. Who perhaps still could be, if Aisling would rush into the swarm to call Hotaru back from the brink of her grief and the hail of her own magic. The disruptive, powerful force awarded to her by the Goddess she served, turned against herself if only for the clarity that pain brought. The focus that tore her away from wondering why everyone she loved had to leave her. Why she remained when she didn't want to remain. When she'd give anything to follow them, even if it meant tearing her spirit from the mortal plane to find eternal rest with them.
Please, just take me with you.
And she could almost see them, there through her slow moving tears, ghosts of all those she'd ever lost. To death, to madness, to the horizon where she'd never find them again. Tingal, her parents, every foal she'd ever born or nurtured. Even lovers; Rhiannon, Thranduil, Ashamin. And countless friends, but none that had ever hurt as deeply as Rexanna's abandonment. One leg came up to step forward towards them, to their smiling faces and joyous countenances. Deeper into the storm where she may find her peace. Until a voice rang out across the snow and ice to her ears, a desperate call that she instinctively heeded. The Lady in her still needing to care for her flock. And her hoof found earth once more, turning as if caught in a dream, eyes listlessly scanning the horizon until she finds the blue of Aisling's paint. The rest of her so cleverly hidden in the snow that she can hardly see her but for the fright of her eyes. It's not until Aisling says her name, her real name and not her title, that Hotaru jerks and her mind snaps back like a rubber band.
The Valkyrie immediately spots the blood appearing on her thief's lips and neck and she jolts, reality slamming back into her. It was one thing to hurt herself in her madness, but to hurt another...to hurt Aisling was another. And she slammed down on her magic, though she could not stop the storm, and stumbled towards the tiny woman on aching, bleeding limbs. "Aisling?" she calls, her voice slurred and confused but willing as she nears the braided beauty. And the tears never really stop, small hands reaching for the fragments of her facade only to fumble uselessly across the pieces. She can't stop Aisling from seeing this, from seeing her in this state. It's already a measure of weakness, but she can't stop it now.
"You're hurt," she notes worriedly, a hiccup in her voice from the tears that are shed now for hurting this gentle, sarcastic soul. Couldn't care less about the fact that she looks more like her father now, covered in her own blood, than the knowledge that she hurt someone who tried to help her. "I'm sorry." And then it floods from her alongside her tears, her face stupidly shocked and almost surprised at her own emotions, like she doesn't know what to do with them or why they're happening to her. And just keeps repeating her apology as the winds die and move east, the storm unraveling naturally along its path, far away from them. The only reminder of its passing the cherry that decorates the snow where she'd been standing, the path she'd taken to Aisling, where she stands knobby-kneed like a newborn colt. Crying with the stupidest expression, like she doesn't know why this is happening to her. Because this was why she'd always guarded her heart, and she'd failed. And they'd left her and they'd broken something already fragile and cracked, and Hotaru didn't know how to put herself back together now.
AISLING
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
Aisling had never thought to become what she was this night. On entering Helovia she’d been the mild, sweet thing she’d always been, captive to her own dreams and foolish fancies that built her up to be nothing but a flighty damsel waiting to be rescued. She had floated from one song to another, and even the friends she met had catered to her stagnation as a silly, empty-headed nitwit. And then they had gone, and she’d been left alone to forge her path anew; somehow that path had led her here. And what was she now? A lover, a mother, a Thief, and now painted like a druid or a warrior of the old Picts. Her imagination had always been a powerful thing, but did she just imagine herself to be brave now and trust that would become a reality.
This wasn’t a fantasy. This wasn’t a scene from a song her illusion had crafted, and yet Aisling stood where she was and did not even take time to consider how she had come to be there. She had changed so much without even noting the power of that change and here, finally, was the test of it. Thief…enchantress…whatever she called herself mattered little compared to the service she could give to her family. It was their need that gave her strength untold and a purpose greater than she could have imagined for herself. It was this explosion of need of pain that steeled the virtues in Aisling: to have Alice an an ally gave her courage, to have Sorcha to protect gave her temperance, to have her kingdom to serve gave her generosity, to see her queen in this state gave her mercy. She was not a knight, but she could be a lionheart.
The little mare had called to her Queen in the grip of fear and bless all the gods, the bloody storm-bringer seemed to hear her. She saw Horatru snap back from the reverie and though she felt the winds subside and move away she did not take her gaze from the Valkyrie. There was hope then, a tenuous flicker of it that Aisling could pull Hotaru back from whatever ledge she was on but the little enchantress moved with caution and care. She could not know what had set the queen off but when Hotaru’s voice broke through the howling winds, it was broken and confused. Aisling responded in a mother’s voice, a low soothing sing-song to draw the Queen further from the wildness. “Aye, and I am here. Come now, Hotaru. Come and quiet yourself, come and be still.”
Little hooves pick up, stepping forward to meet the staggered path of the other and the Thief met her blood-soaked lady in the wake of the retreating storm. She reached out in more ways than one: with her soul to the dragon that clung to her withers, comforting and praising the brave little creature (”Easy Sorcha, the worst is gone, a stór. Good lass, brave lass, all is well.); and with her muzzle down to the hellhound’s shoulder to reassure and to ask for help. Aisling can feel at least that the dragon is well, silly resilient little thing she is, and takes permission from the gentle purring sound to focus on Hotaru.
Grey eyes had never left the mare, trying to hold the sea-foam splashed gaze and keep Hotaru from losing control again. An ache blossomed in her tender heart for the pain she saw in the tearful Lady. There was sadness tinged with what she though might be confusion that made the bloody figure (quite tall, to Aisling) seem small and childlike, and all the more so when a babbled apology spills from her lips and doesn’t seem to stop. ”Tá sé ceart go leor, Hotaru. I am alright. Don’t go worrying your heart over a little scratch.” She soothed, in truth she only knew of the cut on her lip from the tell-tale metallic taste in her mouth. Compared to Hotaru’s injuries it really was nothing. Here now, shhh..” She would have liked to be be tall, to be able to envelop the mare in an embrace, but little Aisling did what she could. Not caring a bit for the blood, she tucked her blue-painted white neck under Hotaru’s (Sorcha having already slid deftly down the little mare’s braid and gone to wrap her long body around Alice’s front paw).
She just held there for a while, held on and held up the crying mare, murmuring little comforts in her native language that were meant more for the soothing tone than any meaning of the words she spoke and soon her words turned from comforts to prayer, prayer to quiet chant. Somewhere along the way the words began to hum with power.
Máthair ar neamh, bandia le linn
Máthair ar neamh, bandia liom
An ghealach, an ghrian, an ghaoth, an domhain
moladh duit, bandia.
Móraim thú, ó lá go lá.
Móraim thú ó oích 'go hóich’.
She would never be able to tell how she knew to reach for the magic, how she knew what price she would have to pay; the Goddess must have given her that knowledge without words, just as she had given the power. Though she knew what she faced, Aisling held fast to her Queen and she took what pain she could, concentrated on the physical marks on the body she held up with her sturdy little self.
When she started her second recitation of the verse it began. One by one, in searing bands of light and swirling shadow the deep cuts that marred Hotaru’s form began to knit themselves together at the same moment as an identical mark cut it’s mirrored replacement in Aisling’s flesh. The invisible blades of wind made their ghosts known as their memories were cut again with the same pain into a white canvas this time instead of a pink one. At the first slice, her chant almost faltered with a stunned little gasp of pain but she held herself to what she had begun and did not stop her chant until every single mark on her Lady's body had been pulled from it and set upon Aisling's.
When it was finished, tears were streaming from the little enchantress shut eyes and she clamped her jaw tight to hold back the cry she wanted to give. She had never felt pain like this, never had an injury worse than busted lip the shard of ice had given her and yet she paid the price for healing and would pay it again if she could. Perhaps she should have started small, tested her healing on minor things until she knew what kind of exhaustion it would cause. Her knees buckled and she gave way, lowering herself to the ground as she labored for breath. The snow and ice of the Steppe was a blessing and she let her head fall to the ground to rest on the lovely numbing chill.
Immediately, Sorcha was upon her. By virtue of the Goddess's magic, she was insulated from the pain that Aisling pulled from others, but the young dragon still knew what it was. She snaked her long weasel-shaped body over to lay along the little mare's white nose, resting her red-crested head on Aisling's brow. She trilled a song of her own, a strange dragon-chant of chittering whistles and high pitched growls and Aisling took comfort in the sound even as her borrowed wounds began to knit themselves together in a torturously slow manner, sealing as little bits of that swirling light and shadow cauterized them and left behind no scars, only the blood that had been spilled.
Translations
"Tá sé ceart go leor-" - It is alright
Her healing chant:
Heavenly Mother, Goddess is with us
Heavenly Mother, Goddess is with me
The moon, the sun, the wind, the earth
praise you, Goddess.
I praise you from day to day.
I glorify you night after night.
Table style by Tamme!
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
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