"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.
02-08-2017, 03:42 PM (This post was last modified: 02-08-2017, 03:44 PM by Sheba.)
All she ever wanted was the world.
Well, it seemed that the old gray mare just ain’t what she used to be.
Sheba was vaguely surprised at the little mare’s quickness, and yet, she hadn’t exactly overestimated her own abilities. Though she had tried her hand at pilfering before, she’d learned the consequences of theft in a rather unpleasant way. With Gaucho’s looming shadow still haunting the back of her mind, she’d chosen a smaller target this time. Still, it had been a while since she had dabbled in such games, and she’d kept her expectations carefully low and the object she’d set her sights on even lower. The flute was tempting to be sure, but she’d settle for a trinket.
“You’re quick on your feet,” the crone remarked lightly, stepping out of the shadows where she had been watching the little mare. “Admirable,” she commented with a wan smile, “Many cannot boast the same, but I suppose we should never underestimate the small, should we?” Sheba swished her tail lightly across her fetlocks and shrugged—she wouldn’t fault the little mare if she was angry, but she hoped that she wouldn’t outright attack an old woman. After all, she was small and weak and hobbled by age!
(Wasn’t she?)
“I hope you won’t begrudge me my little game, cherie; it was all in good fun. I played with more skill once, and I admit that I wanted to see if I still had the knack.” She shook her head. “Alas! You would have had them back anyway—I know how I enjoy my own trinkets, silly as it may seem. Don’t deny an old woman her fun, I beg of you.”
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image
@Aisling maybe?? Excuse to thread w/ you hehehe
set after attempted stealth on Aisling's hair ribbons
02-10-2017, 10:24 AM (This post was last modified: 02-10-2017, 10:26 AM by Aisling.)
aurora basin
thief
aisling
In other times, she would have laughed, would have enjoyed the mischief of it, the fun. Aisling was fond of games, fond of well meaning tricks, and after all, as the Thief of the Basin she was in no position to look down on anyone for being particularly light fingered. She didn't laugh now. She was too tired, to frustrated to worried. Chaos threatened Helovia (Literally. Kaos.) and the little mare had been tearing across the land trying to find some trace of her absent Lady. Protecting the Basin was the only thing on her mind right now, ensuring that her home and family were safe. For the first time in Aisling's life, she didn't have time for games.
Grey eyes were stormy as they watched the older mare step from the shadows, "It's my job to be quick." her normally bell-like voice was clipped with impatience and even that felt strange on Aisling's tongue. She fumed for a moment as the other spoke, furious at the interruption of her search but though she turned her body to face the old mare, she made no move to attack. The would-be ribbon thief was taller than Aisling (not hard to be) but built daintily and where Aisling was sturdy and rounded, if the faerie had been inclined to brawl she might have had the advantage.
As it was, Aisling wasn't the type, and so when the old mare ended she opened her mouth so at least give her a piece of her Irish mind (Da's choicest swearwords being pulled out of storage) "And if ye--" She began, but was cut off by a merrily high-pitched screech as a blur of green zipped past her head from above and hurtled into the ground between the mares. Sorcha landed her dive in a roll over the new grass, and came out of it in a bouncing, weasel-like gait. Chirruping madly, clearly excited, the crimson crested dragon bounded toward Sheba, a pretty purple flower clutched in her jaws.
"Sorcha!"Aisling watched her companion with mounting incredulity. Really, she was too gregarious for her own good. Sorcha however, paid no mind to the annoyance of her bonded and plopped on her little back legs directly in front of the stranger, took the flower in one of her dexterous paws and, stretching her long body, held it high to present it to the unicorn.
Ah, the little mare was angry, that much was clear from her expression as she turned and the way that her voice stretched taut over her response. “It’s my job to be quick,” she snipped, and while Sheba was tempted to smile at the reaction she had caused, she did her best to rearrange her features into a more conciliatory expression. Her would-be victim had made no move to attack her, but she thought it prudent to tread carefully—she had learned that those with fiery tempers often had the means to back them up, and so she said nothing at first, only held her head a little lower and smiled a little softer. While the old hag still possessed enough pride to stoop to outright submission, her body language offered a passive apology, stance meant to convey no further threat.
“And ye—“ the mare went on, clearly about to unleash her tongue on Sheba. The crone considered her expectantly, anticipating a verbal lashing. However, the dragon’s sudden arrival surprised the old mare as much as it had her bondmate—presumably more, since she lacked the benefit of a shared consciousness. To her chagrin, she flinched (and immediately loathed her base and chickenhearted instincts), but thankfully arthritis prevented her from fleeing the scene. By the time she perceived that the dragon meant her no harm, Sheba had only managed to shift her weight on creaky joints and thus attempted to disguise the action as a mere settling of old bones. “Sorcha!” the little mare was scolding the creature, but it paid her no heed. Instead, it sat up in front of Sheba, looking as precious as a glorified lizard possibly can, and extended a flower to her.
Looking down at the dragon, Sheba didn’t know quite what to make of the gesture. Something about the gift made her feel funny, perhaps stirring a particular organ in her chest that had grown cold with disuse. It was a feeling similar to when a frostbitten extremity begins to unfreeze: a rather unpleasant tingling, but one that the body instinctively recognizes as a necessary pain, for even the coldest and deadest of hearts respond to small acts of unfettered kindness. Taken aback by the absurdity of it all, Sheba stretched down her muzzle and made to pluck the bloom, ever so delicately, from the dragon’s grip.
“Quite a charming creature,” she commented, presuming that the dragon belonged to the little mare. “May I presume that this is an olive branch?” the crone asked with another placid smile, forcing her body to relax while keeping a close eye on the stormy stranger’s expression. She sensed that she might not be completely absolved of her attempted crime quite yet, and she wasn’t one to leave loose ends—gods knew how those could come back to haunt her.
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image
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