"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.
Amidst the wall of grief, the agony, the shock when death bellows its haunting lullaby, Enna’s suggestion rang supreme, and in the silence thereafter, Lena wanted to lift the other Mender up to the heavens, for having wisdom, for sharing guidance, for being a beacon in the sullen tragedy. She watched and waited for the prince, for the lordling, to make his decision – and her heart went out to him, for being forced into a role that no one would’ve wanted. But the Reaper deserved more than a watery grave, buried in the sea, or burned, taken to ash and dumped out with the rest of the soil at the year’s end, whipped and scattered away when the wind became unrelenting again. They owed him so much more – and so when the boy finally indicated his choice, Lena held no apprehension in marching forward. The General shouldn’t have had to beg or plead for them to carry the King to his final resting place – the mass should’ve swarmed, should’ve fought, should’ve tangled together to pledge themselves to the Lord one last time. Is this how you honor your sovereign? By doing nothing? She yearned to ask, to spurn them, to court them into something other than shell-shocked stares – become more than what they’d been in the past few seasons, listless, lifeless, hollowed bits and pieces.
Perhaps they’d already forgotten the ways he’d protected, guarded, and shielded them. Perhaps they were too foolish, too young, too stunned to do anything than stand by – but the Songbird wouldn’t.
The femme didn’t look back, didn’t wonder any longer why others didn’t dare to move – softly, on dulcet motions, on careful strokes, on reverent steps, she drew forward, away from the crowd, from the masses, and towards the ramparts, the fortifications, of a demon who’d pledged his life to them, and she could do the same in return. She reached out, brushing her maw along Ode’s shoulder once in solidarity, then angled her shoulder towards Deimos’ fallen haunches, settling herself low, ready for others to come in, so they could all be united in strength for the northern beast and his proud, vigilant stance.
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
He agrees, and for moments you wait with shallow breaths, afraid that you have pushed him just far enough for him to break. Instead he moves from you, lowers himself to the Lord’s shoulder, and you wonder if this, in his death, is the closest that Erebos has ever been to him. You cannot deny the sense of pride that wakes within you, however smothered it is, however small, in the face of his bravery, his courage. You had only wept, only waited for someone else to come and fix, and left when you realized you were alone where he has risen, despite his anguish, despite being the only one left of his little family. Help me carry him, he asks, and few among the mass move to comply. There is a spark of anger in you, ignited by their refusal, the way that they have come with words and sentiment and yet they balk when they are asked for help, remain silent and still when they are asked to lay a King that had given them his life to dignified rest. You stifle a scoff, work to keep the disdain in the shadow of your heart from the drenched, heavy lines of your face, knowing that it is not the time, not the place, for argument or anger. You step backwards and away before finding yourself opposite to the young prince, to Lena and a man you don’t know, pressing yourself to the cold skin of your Lord’s chest, a shudder weaving its way along your spine, as if feeling him has made his death more concrete than it had been this entire time. Your lips tremble with a grief that is not entirely your own, and you swallow against it, looking to the boy that has known too much sorrow, too much death and darkness, waiting for him to forge ahead.
“how long is forever?” asked alice.
“sometimes just one second.” said the white rabbit.
______________________________________
Her wet, heavy feeling eyes watch from a frosted hilltop. She's come upon the scene late, everyone gathered Deimos' son kneeling; he is overcome with sorrow. Her heart is sunken in, her lungs feel as if they can only take small breaths, she can barely bring eyes to look at his limp and lifeless body. Her scars burn and her skin twitches at the sensation while momentarily fading away into memories of that day. She had learned a lot, and planned to learn much more. From the over hanging pine boughs beside her Phrixus hums and coos, feeling the weight of her emotion.
So he's really gone. Something she honestly never thought could happen.
Downside of immortality, but she certainly never saw it coming like this.
She can see the commotion below begin to stir, all the face solemn but their eyes meet one another with a clear and deep understanding. They start to lift him, they are clearly going to bring him somewhere. She sucks in a deep breath and brushes the tears away on each shoulder before setting toward the group and their dead king. She will help however she can, or simply walk beside with her posture limp and her eyes half lit, holding back silent dams of salt-water. Quickly and softly she brushes Lena's mahogany shoulder, meeting eyes with her but withholds the usual grin. She remains voiceless for the time being though, as they lift him and move toward the higher peaks, toward the tombs.
ignore anything that makes no sense because i'm late
You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
The silence was deafening, a roar in his ears, as he stared upon the unmoving masses, as his gaze settled on the individuals within the crowd. For a few moments, it felt like no one dared to move forward, no one yearned to join him, to carry the King who’d done so many things for them, and lord, how he’d wanted to spark and splinter and scream at each and every one of them. How dare they just be pieces of canvas, shards of nothingness, all blurred together, all hazy and pigmented; incapable of doing anything but standing in the rain, listening to a prince beg. He burned, he trembled, he stood there, shoulder leaning, trying to lift his father towards the mountains, while the rest stood – wondering how they’d all become this way, how they’d all been so weak, so feckless, so god damn inept and still (and there was a promise twisting inside him, to never behave in such a way again, to never tarnish the great weight of the man he now carried).
Then Ode advanced, parted from the inert beasts and the silent disciples, and he wanted to cry all over again, bow his head, pay homage to his black cousin, then Lena, the little Songbird, Enna, the painted medic breaking away from the flock; all he could do, all he could think, beyond the inferno, beyond the anguish, was offer his gratitude and acknowledgment. “Thank you,” he whispered again, choking back the tears clawing at his throat, pushing down their heinous wake, their tangible grief, twisting back so they could somehow hoist and heft the Reaper to his final resting grounds
He maintained only a glimmer of strength; someone must’ve been blessing and consecrating his muscles, his core, his soul, because while he felt like falling to the ground in agony and defeat, he remained upright, dignified, jaw clenched, taking small, slow, careful steps towards Orsino, shuffling and shifting with the rest.
The sable kitsune wisely said naught as they approached, only indicating the spot he’d chosen along the unwinding trail: a beautiful, minute section of an open cavern, not too big, not too small, right in the heart of the mountainside, where Deimos could be surrounded by the inhabitants of his beloved empire. The prince sniffled only once, holding tightly to his control as they lowered and pushed him within the dark, cold aperture, as he found a nearby rock, as he and Orsino shoved it in front of the opening and suddenly his father was gone, gone, gone – forever entombed. The tears flowed again after that, shifted down his cheeks as he took out several charms, one belonging to his father (and how it glowed, a little acorn meant to pierce the darkness), and one of his own, a blue raindrop charm that had reminded him of his mother. He placed them intricately on an overhanging branch, together, and then didn’t know what else to do, what else to say, incapable of saying goodbye.
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