"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.
Had Lena’s mouth not been occupied with the seaweed, it likely would’ve dropped open at the wonder and awe surrounding her. She’d always been close to the land, to the earth, to leaves and groves, to fairy elements swarming in effervescence and grace; her eyes had never graced the depths far below, down into fathoms, down into crags and rocks, into bright, colorful reefs and beholden to sprites of fish. Imogen kept asking through their connection (What see, what see?) and the Songbird could only supply the beautiful images before her – splashes of hues streaking by, coral clambering towards the surface or sticking out amongst more rubble. She didn’t notice the cold – she’d lived within the Aurora Basin for far too long to even mind the chilling notes – and her thoughts were wholly riveted, occupied, by the splendor unfolding before her. The femme followed the outlines left by others, hooves digging into sand and surf, staring at dolphins and otters, gilded sparks, luminescent creatures she couldn’t even begin to name – everything was spellbinding, wonderful, and illuminating. The Mender began to relax, to swim amidst the glow, dazzled, ignited, incensed by the wonders of the deep. She listened to the chimes and echoes of Kisamoa, still not understanding the means and measures of their sojourn, but attempting to abide by it all the same. His request echoed through her ears, and though they were spun into silence, though they were meant to remain hushed, all she yearned to do was sing, to trill, to chime and echo along the walls of water and sea with harmony and melody. Her word was automatic, sublime, and simple, because it resonated with every broken little barb left in her soul, and every timeless act of beneficence christened, anointed, and granted by her altruistic essence. Sanctuary, she whispered through her mind, strong and enduring, formidable and eternal, lines sketched over mountains and ice, glaciers and summits, the glistening walls of enduring caverns and the stretch of an expanding, resolute valley. Did they have a haven down in the reaches of darkness and light? Did they have something to protect and safeguard its beatific hold? Did they consider it precious – become beholden, grateful, for its constancy? She hoped, across her heart, through her muscles, along her soul, that they had cherished, treasured things here too – uniting the earth and the sea with its principles and designs.
[Lena thinks 'Sanctuary'. :D]
Fault lines tremble underneath my glass house But I put it out of my mind long enough to call it courage To live without a lifeline
The soldier was severely limited along his current status – but he played along, regardless of the follies and trials granted to him. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last, that he’d had to overcome another tribulation thrust upon him, and despite the frustrations rising against his mind (or perhaps that was more of Orsino, grumbling, hissing, snorting in displeasure: no battle, no blood), the boy still advanced. He followed as far as he could, maneuvering his feet and watching the world from his strange position, witnessing fish flutter by, still close to the surface, rummaging through light and nowhere near the darkness below. He shifted until he seemed to dangle above the others slowly shifting down, swiveling his ears to and fro to catch Kisamoa’s musings and tasks. Not to be outdone, he too thought of a word, something to note the world by –
Orsino’s reaction was immediate: a deep, haughty laugh chiming through their connection. From any other companion it might’ve come across as affectionate and amiable, but this particular kitsune’s responses had never been made in such a manner. Instead, flashes of violence and vehemence reaped through their minds, so callous, so defined, so resolute in their heedless, reckless fury that Erebos was nearly convinced they were real. The sable fox showed him images of fallen enemies, horns through their chests, blood drained and pooled from their wounds, a world bleached, scattered, marred, and scorned. The boy shook his head, grimaced at the tell-tale signs of apathy and unholy regard; a sacrilege to the earth, and knew he couldn’t answer with the words Orsino dearly yearned to use (ruin). Say it!, the little beast echoed over and over again – bewitching and igniting, incensing and churning, and the prince was suddenly very glad no one could see him now, struggling and fighting against the noxious fumes of soullessness and depravity (how it unsettled him, how it lived inside him). There was more to the realm than ruthlessness – he’d known, he’d experienced it, he’d lived it, but his heart had twisted upon itself more than once, and the lad was well aware he couldn’t answer with piety or virtue.
Justice, he thought instead, ignoring Orsino’s growls, because vengeance would be his one day, and the rest of the earth, even those deep in the fathoms, crawling amidst fallen ruins and drowned castles, should’ve understood the honor of such a calling. He wanted them to comprehend the value of equity, of reprisal, of taking an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, of creeds, promises, and benedictions given to fallen allies, comrades, and friends. Erebos closed his eyes and thrummed it along his soul, burned it against his mind, until Orsino fell silent.
[Erebos' word is 'justice'.]
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
10-29-2016, 09:44 PM (This post was last modified: 10-29-2016, 09:45 PM by Tembovu.)
The Elephant King remained with his round, elephantine feet firmly rooted in the sand, despite the seaweed in his mouth that Kis promised would allow breath beneath the waves. His long trunk took in gasps of breath in the waves’ troughs, eyes burning in the salt as he peered after the bodies slowly dissipating in the deep’s lack of light—
The dark, spotted, small body of his son was diving after the strange, hodgepodge cousin to the Earth God—or minion, or progeny, or whatever relation Kis was the the Earthen deity; in that moment, it did not matter to the King because his own progeny was disappearing into the uncertain gloom.
And, just as the elephant began to sink his trunk beneath the surface and dive after Zubi, the seaweed in his mouth disappeared. Clear panic, the kind that parents know well, filled in mind just as seawater filled his lungs—but bugging eyes stared after the equines swimming after Kis. They all seemed fine, he saw no flailing limbs attempting to ascend to the surface.
Burning lungs demanded oxygen, so the Elephant King breached the surface in a huge spray of salt water. His eyes searched for Adaeze—to let her know that their son was fine. But, instead, his eyes instinctively fell on cerulean, as no golden cat eyes were to found. Slowly, coughing/blowing salt water from his trunk (his eyes squinted against the burn), he plodded to @Rexanna ’s side, trunk reaching out to grasp tendrils of her mane as his worried eyes looked into hers.
Slowly, he became motionless, shifting back into his equine form, before speaking, “Zubari followed him.” His deep rumble was quiet, slightly hoarse with worry, and then he fell silent, eyes falling on @Kiada —happy to see that she was above the surface.
Her legs pumped, gills open and freely filtering salt water—it was, for a few precious moments, bliss. The sea was her home; it gave food and freedom and life. Her ridges undulated in the brief exhilaration; swimming into the deep alongside a man whose strange parts could nearly pass for Akvian. And there were others there with her, nearly a battalion’s worth; it was as if she was with her Akvian brothers and sisters once again—
Except she was not.
The man beside her began to glow, and Aquila’s unblinking gaze swept along the warmly hued reef that leapt to life beneath their swimming forms. It was bright and colorful, reminding her of the Rift before Vjanta had destroyed it. Too eager was she to investigate the reef more closely that she ignored the vague warning that suddenly clamored in the back of her mind: this reef was the colors of danger. The reefs of Akvo were more often greens and blues, with some violets and few yellows. Rarely reds. Yet here, red seemed to pervade as a base of nearly all the colors.
But the seahorse ignored such thoughts, instead turning her gaze back to Kis as she hung, neutrally buoyant, in the space between the other equines and the reef, listening to his words sound in her head. At first, her face-fins flared in discomfort at having someone else in her mind—but she calmed beneath the man’s broad smile.
And then she began to think—which word would she bring from the surface? The ridges of her face rose and creased in thought. There was nothing from the surface she would bring beneath the deep, because all she longed for was the promise of home; of returning to her people and fulfilling her vow to keep them safe.
So, with shocking solemnity and quietness, her simple word sounded in her mind, “Promeson.” Attached to it was the life of her people; the hope that they lived, the lives that the led (what she had tried to protect). Though the word was simple, nearly juvenile in some context, to the seahorse it held more weight than any other word she could share with these creatures.
And maybe—just maybe—Kisamoa would hear it too. And perhaps he, or the Earth God, would finally heed her pleas to save her people.
10-30-2016, 12:34 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2016, 12:34 AM by Esinakh.)
They all disappeared beneath the waves, and @Arakh was still not listening to her. Not because he ignored her, but because her throat was closed tight by her fear of the sand. And the wind began to increase due to the afternoon’s heating of the air, making the little filly uneasily dance on small, dainty grey hooves. The feathers of her wings ruffled instinctively in her fear. But her neck arched around as she tried to smooth with her white-splashed muzzle. It wouldn’t do to have them on end, it would be easier for sand to get stuck beneath them that way!
A particularly vindictive gust of wind sent a large sandivvy leaf flying up against her upper right forelimb, eliciting a terrified squeal and a jump from the filly. Her ears, one white and one black rimmed, pinned flush with her multi-colored, foal-fuzz mane; the whites of her already pale eyes now showing. Her jump had thrown sand up around her, and some stuck to the fear-sweat that had begun to slick her shoulders, chest, and flank.
But what worried the girl even more was that where the leaf had hit, it suddenly now itched. Where her knee (that had brushed a leaf on her walk to the dunes) had been uncomfortable, this was outright torture for the young calf. She bleated pitifully, clay now welling along her back and beginning to stream down her sides. “No,” was her quiet, choked whisper, “no again.” A tremble wracked her slender body as her wide eyes looked first to asylum from the sand (it was so far away, through so many dunes) and then looked for brother-calf.
fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
He reveled in flying beneath the waves. It was a sensation he fully embraced, for who knew when (if ever) he would get this opportunity again? He paid little mind to the idea that the seaweed might not work, as he finally took a deep breath of salt water. At first, it was uncomfortable, lightly burning his lungs and nostrils as it rushed in.
But then it weighted him down, acting as a ballast so that he could further enjoy the sensation of soaring through the water, rather than having to fight against buoyancy to remain beneath the surface. A grin spread across his starkly what face, vivid red gaze jerking to the bright reef that suddenly illuminated and stretched out before them. It was beautiful, and though the vulture preferred a woman’s figure to admire, he certainly could not deny that this reef was pleasant on the eyes.
Kis’s, the good chap, voice sounded in his mind. A word? What word would he wish to share with creatures who had been stuck in deep, dark, cold world at the seafloor? He did not have to think long, for there was always one word that summated the giant pegasus’s life.
And so the vulture thought of the single, driving force in his life; the one thing he had always turned to when found no reprieve from his mother’s disdainful hate or his father’s harsh scorn: “Pleasure.” The word pervaded his mind and senses, ranging for the lewd entanglements he had found in Uumalah’s more adventurous whore houses to the simple sensation of the sunlight warming skin that had been made cold by icy, high atmospheric breezes. To the vulture, pleasure had been his replacement for love; because, where love could not be found in his family’s house, pleasure could always be found in the whore houses.
Then, with a questioning glance towards Kis, he began to ‘fly’ closer to the reef to further inspect the bright, vivid colors and twinkling fish that inhabited it.
The light seemed to become a smaller and smaller halo above them the further they descended, an odd sensation it was, to be at the mercy of a creature you could not discern as good nor evil. How he wished for his magic at that moment, so he may wrap himself and those who had ventured with them in a protective shell of starlit ice and carry them all safely in glittering orbs while the darkness crept ever close. Unnaturally pale eyes stayed fixated on his Thero'shan, the waterfall of suspended hair which flowed from his neck obscured her every now and then with each stroke he took.
With the weed firmly clamped within his mouth, he followed her when she began to glide through the water toward Kisamoa, a plume of bubbles snorted from his lips as he did so. If he could, he would of warned her to stay closer, so that she was within touching distance should anything happen. That he could place himself as a barrier between her and whatever may or may not have been lurking. The mind was such a curious thing, and youth was often lost on the content, why should he stifle her so? So he did nothing but follow with a careful amount of applied caution. He was mortal after all, and though he was the Moon's chosen messenger, he was not as powerful as he used to be. He was flesh and blood, not starlight and magic.
The reef came into view with a soft pulsating light from Kisamoa's bio-luminescent horn, and silver eyes naturally cast downward to the creatures and sprawling expanse of coral and the creatures which had not seen the light of day for many turns of the full moon. He stilled his movements and allowed himself to float in a sphere of pale hair fluttering in the breeze, the metallic sheen of his coat reflecting the light as he simply was. No fuss, no movement, adrift in the lull of the undercurrent. It was beautiful, untouched by horses who sought to create great spiraling white cities beneath the waves, no scaled naga which lounged upon sponges bejewelled in the sea's most precious quarry.
Kisamoa spoke then, and drew him from his pensive wandering, and tender homesickness for the Water Goddess' atlantis. A word? There were so many words to pick, ones that had no meaning and ones that held so much sentiment in their small embrace. To pick only one? Madness. He stayed silent in both mind and body as he fretted with a scholars dilemma over what could be worthy enough, and just like the light which had shimmered into existence at Kisamoa's silent command, did the word come to him.
Fragility. Life was such a fickle, fragile thing above the waves, and no doubt below it. The hung on tender threads made of glass and steel, which sang both delight and sorrow. Peace and strife ruled in equal accords for a time before one outweighed the other. Life was fragile, life was beautiful and life was made of glass. It could shatter in an instant, but held in the right light, it shone with all the happiness in the world.
The Arcweaver's Circle
I will never be a morning person
for the moon & I are much too in love
Alune's word is fragility.
SEEKING;;
[magic :: active ] :: Water x Light :: Able to form ice lances that hurdle towards the target.
Restrictions: Form 3 small or 1 large lances, 10m radius.
10-30-2016, 01:04 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2016, 01:04 AM by Verro.)
The dark did not frighten her, instead her delight and curiosity fed her flames as she swam with the others deeper, violet eyes firmly latched onto the aquatic creature leading them all. A burning star against the backdrop of the underwater sky, the wispy strands of her hair her star trail. Her flames burned with an ethereal glow, their phantasmal presence a quiet comfort to her that she had the spirit of a Warrior — she could not falter and she would not flinch.
Her wings fanned out at her sides to act as makeshift fins and to drive her forward with each stroke against the current, her legs cutting through the water as though she was running upon the grassy ground rather than nothingness. A familiar silhouette was the only thing which made her pause, her neck arched so she could glance back to see her new friend, Zubari had joined in! and he was swimming toward her. Her pace slowed to a floating stop as she waited for him to join up to her before she began to swim again toward where Kisamoa had stopped and began to emit a strange light from his horn.
Nothing could had prepared her for the swell of foreign beauty and life which was revealed beneath her hooves, her orbs searched and drank in each coral, each weed and the unusual forms of the creatures below. So different, and yet they seemed to fit in their world perfectly. Perfect oddities adrift in a time loop, as Kisamoa explained and filled in the blanks and then asked them to come up with a word. What word though? Her small life had been filled with adventure, and sorrow. The mournful word gripped her hard, and the flames upon her hooves and wings dimmed as the silhouette of her father laid upon the sands floated into her mind. The silhouette's of siblings she wanted to know but did not know how to approach. She was an oddity, born not out of love which had transcended and beaten the odds, though her father had painted her in their shades she had not felt his love — no matter how much she knew he would of loved her, nor the love of her siblings.
Sorrow, she whispered in her mind and closed her eyes, the world was not a glittering utopia where the sun always shined and there was lush fields peppered with roses and daffodils. Life above had thorns, and she was not afraid to use them.
"Not second thoughts," He rumbled as his draconian head rose out of the waves to look at the pretty painted mare who had come to stand beside him. The tribrid could no longer see the array of equines who had blindly followed the god-that-may-or-may-not-drown them, and the weed which he'd held in his mouth soon vanished with a questionable quickness. The colt shuffled in the waves as he gazed at her, a sudden uncomfortable heat peppering across his face, what was this? And thank god that it wasn't visible. Was he embarrassed? The emotion is one which elicited a disgruntled and disgusted reaction beneath the surface of his scaled face. She was pretty, so what, it wasn't like that meant anything, right?
Realizing he hadn't finished his sentence, the quad horned boy changed back with a painful grumble, scales burning away to reveal fur and feathers once more and he shook the tension loose from his young body. "I just don't trust fish-horses which suddenly appear and ask everyone to jump in the sea. Not after what Apa told me about the rift battles, and the corrupted Gods which he fought." Tyrath's head jerked back toward his sire and his mother before they caught sight of the creature on her back. "What's that?" Embarrassment and budding crush forgotten, he'd not seen a creature like that before, and he half-wondered why she would choose to be bonded to such a small thing, when she could have a dragon, or if she wasn't a hybrid, a Roc.
"We should move back to the beach, if you want to. Unless you like standing in the waves hoping the villages idiots will come back. I'm Tyrath by the way, it was nice to meet you. Come stand by us if you do come back to the shore." He stated with a gin, cloven hooves already taking him back toward the shore and toward his sire and his mother.
"Mother, Apa." Red eyes lingered on his mother for a moment, indecision racking through his body before his attention turned to Volterra. "I can't see them anymore beneath the waves, they're too far down." The colt stated with a exasperated look, feathered shoulders giving a heavy shrug. "The weed also vanished from my mouth, so I can only guess that we're stuck up here until the idiots return, just like those who also swallowed some of the kelp and didn't go with him." Hubris' Bronze form never failed to draw a grin from the dragon-colt and he huffed a gentle snort toward him, as though he was attempting to trill, and fail horribly, still it was the thought that counted, right? "Hello Hubris, how've you been?"
His gaze soon returned to Aithniel, head tilting to the side. "Does Grandfather know of this Sea God? Or is he really a stranger? What do you think he really wants?"
"talk talk talk"
These things I bury inside
to keep away from the light
Don't you dare pray for me
Talks to @Ultima and heads back to the shore where he speaks to @Volterra and @Aithniel — also tagging @Isopia because Tyrath always says hello to Hubris when he sees him :D
Being pregnant had it's disadvantages, and she already had a long list from her experiences from last time. Flying was the most important part of her life, and she was no more than an overstuffed bird trying to fly, slow and graceless as she had to carry not only herself but her unborn foals in the air. Her swollen sides and her aching feet relished what little time she could manage these days, as the due date crept ever closer and her waistline continued to expand. How could she be a guardian, if all she was good for was an ornament which kept the grasses around the oasis trimmed?
The crowd at the beach caught her attention, having chosen to use the sea winds to her advantage and coast along their strong currents. Apparently, she had missed the important stuff — or most of it, since each head she could make out was intently turned toward the waves. A large black sail dipped down to send her into a gentle spiral toward the ground, legs unfolding ready to sink into the cushioning sands.
Gently, gracelessly and eventually her heavy weight touched into the sands and she sank with an uncomfortable snort. Her wings stretched outward and gingerly wrapped around her sides, a poor attempt to mask her pregnancy that she'd long since abandoned. Be damned if she would let her wings droop at her sides however, and her dual coloured eyes scanned around for any familiar faces until they rested on @Tembovu. She hadn't seen him since forever, and it was a good time as any to find out what was going on via an old friend. If it was a cause for concern, she could at least report back to her Sultana and still be useful when she was useless as a Warrior.
"Tembovu." Her whinny nickered across the sandy wind, ears forward as she slowly made her way over, her mane and tail dragging along in the sands as she did. Her attention goes to the mare stood beside him and offers her a nod, and then the same is offered to the foal beside them. It's not an outlandish assumption to make that they are mates, and the child which struck an uncanny likeness to them both is the fruit of that. Her sides give an uncomfortable squirm as a small kick rippled across the muscle and her ears pinned back in response. "It is good to see you, it has been a long time. I'm Nephele, pleased to meet you." The latter part is directed to the mare and filly, the lingering discomfort grumbled through gritted teeth as she willed herself to calm in the face of her unborn child's outburst. She hoped that they would see past the aggression, for the simple fact she was pregnant, and it sucked.
"What's going on here? Is there trouble?" A genuine note of her warrior heritage bleeds through, that gruff, militaristic note famously carried by some of the horses which called the Throat home.
Uber pregnant! Nephele dropping in late to find out what's going on. Talks directly to @Tembovu and greets @Rexanna & @Kiada
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Terry Pratchett
Please tag Neph in all replies!
Force & violence permitted with the exception of maiming & death
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEARNED BY NOW, I'LL BURN THIS WHOLE WORLD DOWN
The sea-thing speaks again, inviting the citizens of Helovia to take up some seaweed and enter the water. The boy's brow furrows and a shiver spreads across his body. He remembers his one encounter with water after his failed flight to the Throat; the terror, the paralyzing sensation of liquid flooding his eyes, ears and nose, the knowledge that death was but moments away. Without Father here to save him, it would take a miracle to convince the colt to enter the ocean again.
Others do, though. Arakh pins his ears and glares after the fools who enter the sea, wondering if they have a death wish. Amongst them is his big sister Oizys, who he doesn't know much about but just assumes is a bit stupid after this particular exploit.
The filly he spoke to replies, and he flickers an ear at her. "Arakh," he grunts by way of introduction, neatly filing away her own name for the future. She gestures to a nearby mare and announces that she's going to blow stuff up, and the colt's head lifts in interest. "Blow stuff up? Arakh help!" Any excuse for some idle-minded chaos.
Larue asks if he intends to enter the water, and the boy shakes his head firmly. "Arakh not go into water. Arakh been in water before, not good. Fills nose and ears and makes chest hurt." That is a slightly simplistic way of explaining the gut-wrenching terror of knowing that breath cannot be had, that doom is mere seconds away.
Rak. RAK! Suddenly, everything is forgotten as he hears his sister's voice. "Esi?" He looks around for her until he finally sees her, fetlock-deep in the sand. A low hiss of realisation leaves his jaws and he immediately bombs towards her, seeking to press his side to hers in his own approximation of comfort. "Rak here now," he whispers soothingly, his tail softly stroking both his flanks and hers as he stands stoic next to her. A leaf blows up and Esinakh springs away, terrified, whilst Arakh boldly slams his hoof upon the offending leaf as if to say see? Gone now. Clay begins to ooze down the filly's flanks and Arakh whickers his concern as he backs away a step to examine her. Poor sister-calf. "Esi come down to water with Rak. Wash off bad sand and clay. Then Rak and Esi fly away, so no more sand touch Esi. Yes?" He doesn't know if he can fly, let alone if his sister-calf can, but they will damn well try.
Suddenly, there's pressure on her tail. Teeth. She flails around sideways in the water and sees her mother's black-painted limbs, her horned head attempting to grab the filly's tail. Fuck off, mother, she thinks angrily, and with a savage hiss she wrenches her tail away from the silver's jaws. There could be all sorts of cool shit down here, and she'll be damned if she'll let her mother's overprotective instincts prevent her from seeing them.
She takes a breath, and to her surprise she doesn't feel water entering her lungs. It is eerie down here; quiet but strangely haunting, with multiple little silver fish-bodies darting around and the looming, ever-present majesty of the coral. The salt water stings the gargoyle's eyes, but not as much as she'd expected. Her long leonine tail makes a surprisingly good rudder and she uses it to propel herself downwards, following Kisamoa's light down into the depths. Her chest feels tight; not with the lack of oxygen, but with awe. There's a whole new world down here, one she'd never even dreamed of. Oizys is not the sort of girl to spend time examining the beauty of the world, but even she cannot deny that there is an allure to this underwater kingdom, this lost Atlantis beneath the waves.
Barnacle Bill instructs them to say a word to the coral, and the filly can think of plenty that she's sure the crusty coral would love to hear. It'd be typical Oizys to swear at the unsuspecting reef, but something in her stops her from her usual vulgarity. No, even this event is too....momentous for the gargoyle to ruin with her foul mouth. Instead she thinks of what life means to her; what these fish and plants, trapped beneath the sea, can never experience. They will never run between the mountains, their mane splayed out behind them as they marvel at their own speed. They will never climb the cliffs and view the panorama that awaits them, nor will they gallop between the trees with nothing but the tentative chains of herd membership to hold them back.
"Freedom," she says, and she thinks it too, with as much force as she can muster.
O I Z Y S I'M NOT A HERO, I'M A LIAR
I'M NOT A SAVIOUR, I'M A VAMPIRE
She was accustomed to running long distances, but attempting to push water past her delicate legs to gain any kind of momentum was proving challenging. Bellisma felt more like she was flailing about, but slowly - very slowly, she was nearly the last to the party - she reached the others near the reef. It was cold this far down, and her nostrils expanded slowly even with her exertion, as her brain rationed that any moment now this magical sea grass would stop working. For now, each breath was taken as if through the air above - it smelled salty, if it truly had a smell, and crisp. Or maybe that was just the brine of the weed in her mouth.
Suddenly her mind lit up with words that were not her own, and for a moment Bellisma looked about. What-.... wait. Her focus returned to the creature that had led them down this far, realizing the inflection of the words matched how he had addressed the crowd on shore. She gazed upon the plethora of beings below them still as he instructed, marveling in the way they all seemed to be in perfect synchrony. A school of fish dove up, then down, then curled back around on itself all without impeding the one beside it. For a moment Bellisma's mind was silent, marveling at how perfect it all seemed. Her eyes briefly caught on the sea horse who called this place home, and the chestnut mare found herself filled with envy.
Kis - that was his name, correct? - encouraged them all to think a word to describe the world above. When the little mare gazed around, she could tell the others were concentrating and choosing their descriptor very carefully. It was clear this task was important, and she needed to take it seriously - but what did she have to offer? She thought of the plains with their tall grasses, rolling hills, and mountains that seemed to pierce the sky... But surely the others had thought all these things, if they were the first image to come to mind. No, Bellisma needed to think of something better...
Finally, she opened her mind and projected, Passage. She thought of the way time - the sun, the moon, the seasons - never failed to continue on, despite whatever hardship one may be facing. She thought of the colors that came with the sunrise, and how they were always slightly different than those with sunset. And she thought of the wind - how it never really stopped moving even though at times it seemed to take a break. (Who could blame it? It had a difficult job.) It persevered in the face of all, and in truth, Bellisma looked up to it. During her darkest days, she had hated the way it continued on seemingly without her, until she finally understood that it was not passing without her - it was telling her she had survived another day. And that was the sweetest gift she could have ever been given.
Bellisma's word is PASSAGE (as of time)
Seeking:
[Magic: Water x Light | Ability to imbue small bodies of water with healing properties]
[Restrictions | More severe injuries require larger volumes drunk / longer exposure time]
As the seaweed allowed life to continue to sustain his small body, Thèo took in the new world he was being given access to, with wide, sea-green eyes. At first the water was murky, and for one dismal second he thought that perhaps there wouldn't be much of anything to see down here. But then..then, as they swam deeper, all became clear. Literally. As the temperature dropped the distance he was able to see increased, and suddenly the world beneath the waves that he had always thought existed.
He looked back, a wide smile on his face (with his teeth clamped shut over the seaweed). That expression of happiness faltered for just a second. Hadn't @Iskra jumped into the water seconds before he had? But the boy wasn't ahead of him, and now Thèo could see that he wasn't behind him either. Did it have something to do with his magic? With the sparks that fell from his body? Would he perhaps get electrocuted if he lingered in the waves too long? And then there was @Ultima , the woman he had stood next to, and who seemed to silently whisper of dreams and light and other worlds. He had wanted her to come too - but ahead where light still rippled across the surface, he saw no trace of her. Kisamoa's voice inside of his skull pulled the boy's attention back to the task at hand, but the smile had disappeared entirely from his lips.
Using his wings as flippers as many of the others had done, Thèo tried to position himself as close to @Luther as possible, while still giving them each enough space to 'flap' if they needed to. As Kis offered instructions, Thèo looked down to the amazing display of life that had been hidden from him until now. However as others around him offered words, Thèo's frown once again appeared. He was so ... so young. What word could he possibly offer that they didn't already know, or that hadn't already been said? They had family, they had friendship...twisting his lips, he looked up towards the surface again, in time to see that the magical beam of light that always followed him around, had permeated to these depths as well.
Grinning now, he turned back. Hadn't Kis turned on a light so that they could see them? Everywhere else down here looked so dark, and darkness was a world that the boy would never have to inhabit.
Light He thought as strongly as he could - thinking of Gaucho and the Sun God, thinking of the magic that followed him around, and thinking of the sun-drenched Throat.
Theo's word is LIGHT.
mathèo
Oh Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man
His heart constricts as Isopia moves towards the sea, and an involuntary twitch ripples across his hard muscles as he fights the urge to go after her. Is she mad? She, rational Isopia, analytical to the point of coldness? It is simple raw instinct to try and protect her, even though he's seen firsthand that she doesn't need protecting; he finds himself readying his body to enter the water should the Mountain appear to be in trouble.
@Albrecht speaks, and the leviathan cannot help his grin at the man's words. "You're right there," he rumbles. It is sheeplike behaviour to enter the water so swiftly without a care - Volterra is not the sort for self-preservation, but nor is he the sort for utter lemming-esque stupidity either.
He suddenly feels something collide with him, and turns immediately in preparation to retaliate should it be an invitation to battle. It is simply an unknown mare, though, and she quickly apologises for her mistake. A grunt of acknowledgement leaves him as his crimson gaze rests upon the horned form of @Raeden . "They seem to trust him implicitly, but I cannot comprehend why. Perhaps I am simply being overly cynical, but it strikes me as rank stupidity to blindly trust a beast who has shown absolutely nothing to indicate that he has our best interests at heart." One ear flicks idly as he watches the water. Isopia is a clever girl; for her to follow, there must be something deeply alluring about the ocean. She must have her reasons for entering the water - he certainly doesn't count her amongst the legions of other fools who have followed Kisamoa's command.
@Aithniel remarks that someone has to think, and the stallion nods his agreement. His eyes linger on the bronze form of Hubris, and his heart constricts with memories. It is a miracle that his own dragons are off hunting and thus not with him, because he is quite sure that Vadir would make her feelings about the bronze known. This is no time to cause a scene. Hubris seems to be indicating that everything is alright, and the behemoth allows his tense muscles to relax an iota.
He looks around for Tyrath and sees him stood with a pretty mare - a wolfish grin spreads across his jaws, pleased to see that his son seems to have inherited his easy rapport with the ladies. @Tyrath wanders back over towards his parents, and with another odd twitch of the leviathan's heart, he realises this is the first time the three of them have been together at the same time. Almost like...a family. It is an odd sensation, one that spreads and glows through him - it reminds him of the pride he felt when Tyrath helped fight the wolves, and he allows it to spread freely through him like the warm fingers of sun on a winter's day. The colt points out that the seaweed is now gone, so the land-bound horses can no longer follow their brethren even if they wanted to. "I suppose we'll soon see what the creature's intentions are. I merely pray it does not come at the cost of the lives of those who have followed him to the depths." A troubled expression flits across the beast's eyes; he cares not a jot about the lives of the plethora of others who have entered the water save Isopia.
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ] [ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
10-30-2016, 11:54 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2016, 12:27 PM by Odd.)
The words rang in his mind, as well as the minds of those assembled. Kisamoa directed them in a telepathic rainbow of impressions towards the sea creatures below.
expanse. fields, rivers, distance
petrichor. a sweet smell, a flash of rain.
eventide. starbreak. silence. rainbow hues.
running. movement. speed. rhythm
wonder. amazement, new things, experience.
explore. information, intrigue, curiosity.
magic. An apt word for one whose body had suddenly been transformed into something else. Kisamoa smiled broadly as the seal swam and danced in the water.
aureate. colour of the sun, of sparkling sunrises and sunsets
sanctuary. safety. purpose and closeness.
justice. equity, harmony, might.
promeson. unbroken, dedicated. tireless.
pleasure. goosebumps. need. gluttony.
fragility. shattered glass. leaves in winter. new life.
sorrow. silent fields. single footprints. a tear.
FREEDOM. The word was like a scream. It screeched through the mental link Kisamoa had set up. At once, all of the fish and other aquatic life disappeared in a frightened frenzy, seeking refuge in the coral. Immediately Kisamoa turned, his eyes seeking out he who had blatently ignored his instructions and the examples set by those who had spoken before. For a moment it seemed as though the new sea god was going to lose his cool upon the small unicorn boy, but he refrained. The fire fell from his eyes, though a small snarl was still on his lips.
Your voice hurts their ears. He repeated, his voice terse in the colt's mind. Which is why you were asked to think your word, and not speak it. Kisamoa turned his attention back to the coral, where only a few curious eyes could be seen. For a moment his light pulsed brighter, and a wordless melody flowed through his bond towards them. Slowly, their faces reemerged, large frightened eyes avoiding the colt who had screamed at them.
passage. one season to another. a moon high in the sky. permission.
light. radiance. glimmer. truth.
The final words helped pull the creatures from where they had fled. The God smiled, and exhaled. Despite the boy's mistake? they had all done as he had instructed, and the creatures here certainly had a very eclectic set of memories to think over.
The word which pleased him the most had been spoken relatively early, but it had stayed with him the longest. eventide. It wasn't just sunset, not dusk or the arrival of darkness. It was a magical hour, a whimsical time, and as he had instructed, it was something that these creatures would never experience. Even with the presence of light sources, they would never truly understand. But now with Glasgow's word and memories, they would.
Kisamoa turned to the unicorn with a smile. A gift for you, for the gift you gave to them. He whispered into the minds of all, but his gaze was on @Glasgow alone. An orb of blue that glistened and glimmered rose gently from the coral below, and moved towards Glasgow. It playfully flit around him, almost like a curious fish might do, before gently 'popping' against the unicorn's chest, and flooding him with magic.
There were others whose words had similarly filled him and those below with a sense of fullness: @Erthe , @Syrena , and @Luther . For these three, once they returned to the surface, their seaweed would remain with them and would not disappear as it would for the others. This was their gift.
Come - let us leave our new friends to contemplate all that you have shared with them. Kisamoa swam towards the surface. His head broke through followed by his scaled shoulders. He greeted those still on the beach with a wide smile, turning back to watch the band who had followed him into the waves slowly begin to surface. He wondered if those on the beach would be disappointed that they had not taken him up on his offer, or if they were content to have remained on the sands. Regardless of which, surely the tales from those who were now surfacing would be more meaningful than anything he could say.
"No hard feelings, friends." he called to those on the sand, with a wink. "I shall return back to those beneath the waves. Perhaps those who came with me will let you in on what occurred." With another charming smile, Kisamoa turned and submerged himself back into the water.
Kisamoa dives back into the water! As soon as you surface, the seaweed will disappear (except for Erthe, Syrena, and Luther). This board is now closed, but feel free to start follow up threads here if you want!
Those who dove under the water
** Ozzy is eliminated! Kis specifically said to think the word - not speak it! List, Roll
Congratulations to ERTHE, LUTHER, and SYRENA. You have received:
:: [Item | Magical seaweed that lets the user breathe underwater while the seaweed is in their mouth.]
:: [Restrictions | Can only be used in 1 hour intervals.]
:: [Magic (light x water) | Can summon wraiths of mist]
:: [Restrictions | Wraiths can be 3 small (medium dog or lower) or 1 large wraith]
- Kaj Eliminated for not posting in the first 72 hours.
- Syrena (in the water) * You have a previous refusal here. Make sure you keep track of that!
- Erthe (in the water)
- Alune (in the water)
- Kvasir (in the water)
- Glasglow (in the water)
- Bellisma (in the water) - Noe (stays on the shore) Eliminated for not posting in the second 72 hours.
- Aquila (in the water)
- Esinakh (stays on the shore)
- Macaria (in the water) *You don't have any refusals. You cannot apply a companion drop refusal to a magic drop.
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