"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.
An old worn shape is just standing there, in the middle of the ice field. His head is low, so low in fact that his warm steamy breath is slowly melting the hard ice-shell which has encompassed the ground here. Why is he just standing there? If you asked, he would philosophically respond, Why not? And why not indeed? Having befriended the once-Ice-King Mauja, Myrddin took the first baby-step into possibly becoming part of a herd again. Almost immediately however, the herd who had so quickly welcomed him in, had been cast out of their homeland. Myrddin did not fully understand the dispute, but felt frustrated that he had not been here sooner. Perhaps he could have counseled the young King, as Myrddin had seen many wars in his long life. But now, he was once again wandering.
The old stallion’s chest moved in and out steadily – one of the few signs that he was actually alive, and not simply frozen in place. A layer of frost has formed on his gnarled and twisted horn, showing that he must have been standing here for quite some time. Myrddin was lost in thoughts of the family that he recently lost – what else, other than a devastatingly tragic event, would cause such an decrepit old geezer like Myrddin, to venture off on his own?
10-30-2012, 05:32 AM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2012, 05:33 AM by Knox.)
Strong colt made his way to the Frostbreath Steppe in the company of his companion and the snow. The terror haunted her still in the shape of waking dreams that Knox could only sometimes glimpse. He feared for her most days, cradled her at night and soothed her with the quiet comfort of whispered stories. Stories of the old country where he'd never been, stories of a once great stallion who fought through everything only to die at his mother's will. In the dark and frigid nights he told her of the magic there, of those gifted with the power to shapeshift, to poison, to even breathe fire, and what it cost them.
And for a time the stories helped. The young pup's curiosity waxed as her master's waned, and the tales were enough to satisfy her and keep the terror at bay. As long as none of it was real, she was content. It was only when the colt told her the story of the bridle passed down through a family of survivors, the bridle that shifted to match each new owner and whispered memories of their ancestors, that she understood.
Days were worse than ever after that, when she realized none of it was fiction. The bridle itself became an object she feared, for it marked the death of many in the past; foreshadowed those of the future. All around her she began to see shifting images of the phooka, lasting only for brief moments, but lasting long enough to send her into a fit of howling and shaking. At night she dared not sleep, she lay awake haunted and guarding.
Too many nights without rest left her too weary to carry herself, and so when Knox journeyed to show her the peace of freshly fallen snow, she rode upon his back. His steps were slow and gentle, his mind always conscious of her precarious position. He would look back at her often, so much to the point that he lost sight of what lay ahead. But Manhattan saw what was there before them; she always saw.
And thus the old and gentle beast before them with the twisted and gnarled horn became the image of a phooka. Manhattan began to whine and cry and struggled to run as the elder's eyes turned gold; as his horn and his body became splattered in blood. His eyes shone gold, gold, pupilless, empty, and soulless gold. The eyes of a phooka, the image of a shapeshifter.
Knox did not have the split second to see Myrrdin as he truly was; in the time it took him to turn his head and look forward, Manhattan's magic had already done its work. And so blue eyes met the image of gold ones, and the master and his ward instantly saw the face of their fear.
The reaction was uncontrollable, the results evident. Faced by his greatest fear, Knox's eyes turned silver and then, in an instant, magic cut through frostfall air and the old stallion was blinded only a moment before the terror faded away and the draft learned of his mistake.
Of all the things that Myrddin had witnessed in his long life, these final images - his final moments of seeing, were rushed and blurred. Yet in the days to come, they would sharpen and the image of what happened, would become clear behind his now sightless eyes.
The air was still and cool and brought the heavy foot steps of the colt to Myrddin's ears even before the youngster came into view. Maybe, if Myr hadn't been so lost in his own cacophony of thoughts, things might have been different. Maybe, if he had moved, rather than just stood there, allowing the pup's hallucination to fully envelope his shape, things might have been different. Maybe - but Myrddin would not let these thoughts linger. What happened, happened. There was no going back now.
What an image this was to see, although we can assume that Myrddin may never appreciate the artistic beauty of how these events unfolded: Myrddin was white, Knox was black, or nearly so - his strange dappling did not take away from the stark contrast of the two. While Myrddin was a little taller than the colt, Knox's fullness easily made him look just as tall as the slender old stallion. Then their was the dog - Myr barely had time to even sense the change in the creature - he was too busy lazily letting his mind drift and mull on how it appeared that as the pup rode on the colt, how they seemed to blend together, like some weird hybrid.
Then there was nothing.
The world did not fade away, but instead seemed to rock and brighten all at once. As his sight vanished, Myrddin staggered sideways as if his centre of gravity had somehow shifted. Head low, as it was when the pair arrived, Myr staggered for breath as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He didn't immediately perceive that he had been blinded - everything had suddenly become much louder and much colder, as if his other senses, rather than gradually becoming stronger, had surged into overdrive, even if only momentarily. And it was only momentarily, sadly. The world hushed back to the quiet it had been only moments ago - what did the world care, that one stallion had lost his sight?
Raising his head, Myrddin stood tall - his eyes were wide and now were filled with a chillingly blank look - murky white was beginning to cloud over his once deep twilit' eyes. He surveyed the general direction that he remembered the colt and pup to be, eventually settling his gaze a little left of them, and a little too high. In a voice that did not (would not) shake, Myrddin spoke: "I would have your names". His voice was solemn and stern, but not necessarily angry. Or maybe just not yet.