"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.
The gold’s reaction should be familiar, if one has ever watched a scared pup cower from a perceived threat, only to realize that the danger was entirely non-existent, and return after substantial sniffing around and wary observation. Wide eyes narrow as she watches the winged behemoth take notice of a trinket on the ground before him - she does not look away to see her own - not yet, but studies the giant as he moves. The easy grin, his relaxed body language, and the warm cheer from the tree cast him all in a favorable light.
The thing is that Yael doesn’t want to see any smooth-talking man in a favorable light. She shakes her head, more to herself than anyone else. A new life here is fine and manageable while she can shut her heart up in a tempered steel cage and throw the key into a swamp. Not knowing how she came to be here, or what has happened to her family is a bitter pill that she can swallow every day. Living a mortal life means that one day, this too, shall pass. But flirting? Oh no, that small, unwanted compliment is too much for her fragile psyche to accept - not when she’d inadvertently killed the last stallion who hit on her.
Lyanna’s worried voice grabs her attention, and rather than draw someone else into her own little mindfuck headspace, Yael denies her assistance. She can’t quite see the teal-and-black mare over (or through) the mass of horses, so she tries to call out in a reassuring manner. “Leeanna! I ahm fine. I vill meet you back at ze Edge,” before turning back to Gaal. When she does, she finds him… simply breathing. Leisurely. Measured. As if he’d taken some sort of Lamaze class and was trying to guide her into calmness with gently flared nostrils. Again, Yael takes his multiple colors in, his great big wings, and his towering, broad body.
A swallow (gulp), as tall ears swivel to catch his low question. “Yael.” Yah-el, she says, in a markedly foreign lilt. Her tongue flips fluently over words, but always in an acrobatic way, for it could not ever simply ‘walk’ between syllables - that would be too easy. “I ahm sorree,” she offers as an explanation. “You remind me of a ghost.”
01-16-2017, 03:41 PM (This post was last modified: 01-16-2017, 03:42 PM by Graasvoel.)
graasvoel
His red-hot and sharp gaze does not miss the lingering uneasiness in the gold mare—nor does he miss the failed attempt at reassuring the Moon Doctor Lyanna. His black-marked brows knit slightly—though he can’t truly manage outright frustration beneath the Giving Tree’s warm, calming glow. Though the glow is starting to abate, seeming to fade with the dispersement of Helovians as the crowd began to thin.
A low, rough chuckle just managed to push out his throat as she apologies and explains (vaguely) her strangely standoffish behavior. (Rest assured that the acrobatic and alluringly exotic lilt of her tongue does not go unnoticed.) “I assure you, lovely Yael, that I am very much flesh and blood,” and, as if to prove that point, he arched and shook his neck, heavy muscles proudly leaping out from beneath his swarthy, tawny skin. He then grinned roguishly and winked at the gold woman, inviting her to laugh at his ridiculous display of faux-manliness.
He then relaxes his thick, testosterone-grown crest, the thick and now hopelessly knotted strands of his multi-colored mane settling as a while mess atop it. His gaze dances among the black specks of her plumage, before studying the soft ivory of her silken mane, and lastly landing on the warm brown of her eyes. “Are you running from this ghost?” The question was offhand, easily spoken in his slightly accented, rough voice. And the question—too serious for it to be normally asked by the vulture— was asked out of curiosity. What ghost could elicit such a response in the golden woman?
the vulture feeds while it can until there's no trace left of man
01-16-2017, 10:50 PM (This post was last modified: 01-16-2017, 10:50 PM by Yael.)
yael
She chuckles uneasily, mostly because it feels so wrong to find his obvious antics amusing. It is not the laughter itself that seems improper (has she not laughed with other women? It brought no sense of shame), but the company. Because as much as she knows she shouldn’t want it, she does. Gaal’s attention is flattering. It signals a change from the bedraggled and wrecked, perpetually cold slip of a thing she was when Lyanna found her. Perhaps there was more meat on her bones, a greater sheen to her coat? A tad more confidence in where she was going? It never once crosses her mind that she might simply be easy prey for a smooth-talking stallion - hopefully her spidey senses are better than that.
“Ahhh, yes. I can see t’at.” She responds, letting her gaze roam over his display, before averting her eyes. But that isn’t quite right either, so she tries to settle them on his face. Trying, ever trying, to ignore the heat of his gaze, and painfully conscious of his scrutiny.
Goddamn if he wasn’t just her type, too. There was some sort of cliche in the way the tiny woman gravitated towards the winged, draft-types; the natural strength and protection their bodies promised her, the way she fit neatly under a wing (sometimes with room to spare), the pure solidness of their muscles that seemed to be able to withstand hurricanes and hellfire. As if they (nevermind it was all imagined) would be the heroes she wanted as a filly, stuck in a world that hinged entirely on what type of stallion wanted her as a mate.
Eventually, Yael learned to be her own heroine - and even took to saving others - but a girl’s fantasies never truly die, do they? Not when a certain tingling sensation lingers long after the cock crows to summon the sun.
She is about to ask about his accent and name, but he strikes first - and it is a question she is not prepared to answer. Not only has she avoided almost all discussion of her Van, but to talk of him to another stallion? Hell no. That’s just asking for waterworks. What could she say? ‘What I meant was you remind me of my mate, whom I loved so much that I went into death to retrieve, and then accidentally killed years later. You should have seen the look on his face when he was unraveling.’ Yeah… no. Even after a few drinks, that sort of thing doesn’t go over well. So she tries something simpler: “Never. But eet ees too compleecated for mere ackaintences to talk about.” There. That should shut it down.
But she doesn’t want to shut him down, so without missing a beat, she continues, “Do I detect an accent, Gaal? Vhere are you from?” Deflection: she’s gotten good at it.
02-26-2017, 07:41 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2017, 07:41 PM by Graasvoel.)
graasvoel
The gargantuan stallion greeted her affirmation of his ‘flesh and blood’ and roaming gaze with an easy, lopsided, and roguish grin—gladly meeting the gaze she tentatively (or uncertainly) rested on his stark white face. However, the heat from his gaze and his grin faded slightly as she shut down his next question (about her ghost) with a simple and vague non-answer.
His heavy skull cocked slightly, beard swaying in the crisp air, “’Mere acquaintances?” his rough voice rumbled around the words that parroted her phrase, “Perhaps we could be more than that.” Again, rather swiftly, a heat flashed through his sharp, red and yellow gaze, before it cooled. He didn’t want to scare the gilded woman off, her accent is too alluring and her golden skin appeared too soft. So he let the ghost pass out of the conversation, moving onto her next question.
“Indeed, I am Korofi. From the plateaus of Dorobo, far, far from here,” he gestures vaguely in a direction (entirely unknowing if it was the correct way or not), glad that the woman is continuing to humor him with conversation. Slowly, he shifted closer to her as the Tree’s warmth faded slightly as the evening wore on. “And you? That accent, alluring as it is, is not from Helovia,” again, he grinned lopsidedly at her, gaze lingering on her gold lips as he complimented her accent, before returning to her warm mahogany eyes.
the vulture feeds while it can until there's no trace left of man
Dear G-d, he is persistent! A dark thought flashes in the link between her brain and eyes - ever so brief, just the faintest spark of annoyance and ire in her rich, expressive gaze- but it is quickly buried by the little mare’s astounding willpower. Mind over matter. Control. Paint the prettiest picture and hope that is enough. Use your diplomacy, she thinks. For vague, non-answers were once her speciality.
“Perxaps,” Yael concedes, with a small, tight smile, deigning to swallow what she wanted to add as a caveat, I can alvays use more friends. She’s learned that hope is a useful tool, and if when they meet again, he will most likely remember her as the mare who left the door open a crack, rather than the mare that shut, locked, and threw away a key. Stallions like Gaal are useful. She doesn’t want to be manipulative, truly, nor does she think he is a fool - but size and position have placed her in need of allies (for lack of a better word).
Or so her wounded, scarred, and triggered heart tells herself. But oh, it is a tricksy thing, and mastered self-preservation long ago.
Dorobo he says, and Yael can only shrug a little to indicate that she is not familiar with that name. “I, too, am from far avay from xear.” Worlds and ‘rips in time and space’ kind of far away, but she does not say that. “An area called Tzion, in ze land of Yisrael. And t’en anozer place, called B’kanna. And now - “ She tosses her head to make light of all the different homes she’s had. A quiet, tinkling sort of half-laugh, half-sigh falls from her lips as she names what will surely be her final home - her resting place, her deathbed. “- seemply Yael of Xelovia.” She cocks a hind leg in comfort and resettles herself, wing-tips accidentally grazing his own. “Ah, sorry. Are you xere out of necessity or xappenstance?”
Though her questions only scratch the surface and are the stuff of small talk, there can be no mistake that they are sincere and she is genuinely interested in this multi-colored titan before her. Even now, she finds herself at ease under his often intent, piercing, and flirtatious gaze (don’t think she hasn’t notice the lust that flashes in their depths), for it is a heat she is well-accustomed to, and it can never be as intense as what came before.
But she will never say no to a nice long visit to a sauna.
03-26-2017, 09:10 PM (This post was last modified: 03-26-2017, 09:10 PM by Graasvoel.)
graasvoel
Though her answer to his gentle (and, indeed, persistent) teasing of them being more than ‘mere acquaintances’ is not met with abounding agreement; her answer is also not an absolute denial. Open the door a mere crack, and Gaal will gladly attempt to figure a way for his great bulk to pass through.
And then speaks of places he has no idea of—words he had not even heard of from the worldly travelers and traders in Uumalah. So his head cocks slightly in surprise, lips pressing and puckering slightly in surprised thought as he tried to think of any place that sounded similar to the ” Tzion” or ”B’kanna” she spoke of. But none came to mind.
So he simple shook his head, “I have not heard of such places—though I would not call you ‘simple,’ Yael.” Again, a flirtatious grin crossed his muzzle in the fading glow of the evening.
But then her next question (” Are you xere out of necessity or xappenstance?”) evoked an entirely different response and demeanor from the giant stallion. He stiffened, uncharacteristically ignoring the gentle graze of her wing-tips against his red-hot eyes heating with a different emotion from what had heated them before.
It was anger. Or shame. Or something in-between. He swung his skull away from the golden lady, looking instead towards the tree as a deep, cold breath swelled his sides. And, then, with a deliberate effort, he slowly sank his great bulk into the snow, a wing lifting to invite the delicate, small Yael to lay beside him in the snow, should she wish, “It grows late, the time for talking has passed. You are welcome here, with me now,” he paused, now-calm-gaze seeking her warm browns, “Or I will find you again.” His simple avowal was honest on his gruff voice.
the vulture feeds while it can until there's no trace left of man