"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.
She finds it empty, and god, if that isn’t the worst, the punch to the face that makes tears well up, then she isn’t sure what is.
But something tells her she should be happy that they’re all gone, but why is she can’t feel that way now that this place no longer has any meaning? Here, she has hated what is left of the Foothills for the largest portion of life for what they did to her, and now that reality hands her what she has been looking for for so long, why does it have to feel so wrong?
Hobgoblin shuffles uncomfortably beside her. The feeling of her is suddenly so foreign and the lack of wild, vibrant woman, of pure Sikeax is gut wrenching. She caves in, and takes his breath away like he was never allowed to own it.
“I hate them.”
“Why? Who?
There is a lot of things that he can think of hating in this very second. He hates the hunger in his belly, the meal that got away that he was chasing when Sikeax had to come across this place, the confusion drowning him and the agony of all of this with no obvious reason in sight, the cicadas that aren’t shutting up despite the loathe he pours into the environment, the combination of end-of-the-day heat and stiff humidity that makes him so damp that he debates throwing himself into any of these pools and groaning his discomfort away. But none of those options are making their ways into the hate-shaped hole in Sikeax’s emotional wall. No matter how many of them he pushes into it, none budge, and that just succeeds in angering him more.
“The Grey.” The colour splats against her mind and a frown crawls over her lips before distorting like a monster in a horror movie. Anger roars up, and neither of them are sure which one it is coming from and what the real reason for it is. Hobgoblin is made because he cannot understand and because Sikeax is, because he is forced by some sort of stupid, needless living law that he must share so much of himself with her. Sikeax is just, whatever.
He recoils with his own disgust to hit her with a snarling frown of his own. ‘Fuck you, bitch,’ it seems to say. She catches it in time to return a glare.
“Get over it.” She demands before walking away, fading into the trees and out of the pool that they had been standing in, away from the dying warmth of the sunset.
OOC: meh. Hobgobin is in his leopard seal form, chilling out in the pond next to sia.
Areli the flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly
It was not home any more, yet here she was.
Areli did not know exactly why she had returned, other than on half of a wish that it had all just been a bad dream, or that the Earth had changed his mind, or that she would not find the place deserted. She had wandered up to the crumbling mountains and trodden the well-worn path (trying to ignore the weeds that had begun to choke the way); she had stood atop the highest point she had known and wept there to find it empty; and she had wondered, tears cried, what there was left to do now. She could not stay here, that much was clear—attached to this place as she might be, it was only a painful reminder of all that had once been. Her father, her mother, Ilios and Uncle Kaj all together, all smiling…every memory seemed to make her chest constrict until she felt that her lungs would collapse in on themselves. At her side, Bee looked up from the stick that she had been gnawing on and whined, distressed by her mistress’ grief. Home wherever with family, she offered, but the girl only turned away. Her family had scattered to the four winds, and by that logic, she was still just as much a vagabond as ever.
Let’s go, Areli signaled to the wolf, walking away from the churning water and its deafening roar, there’s nothing left for us here. Dutifully, Bee obeyed, jumping to her feet and picking up the stick, prepared to trot after the girl. In her eagerness, she scraped the wood against Areli’s hind legs and the latter looked at her balefully. Leave it, she commanded, patience growing thin. Please? the wolf asked, posture submissive, but loathe to part with such an excellent branch. No, the girl replied pettily, a sudden swell of resentment rising in her chest that Bee wasn’t mourning this place as much as she was and wanting to make her hurt in some way, even if it could not compare to her own pain. I SAID--
“Get over it.”
Areli visibly startled, whirled at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.
“Who’s there?” she called, muzzle inching ever closer to the stone dagger kept tucked under her right wing. “I—I’m not alone,” she quavered, gesturing at the wolf.
But even as she said them, the words sounded like a lie.
"speech"
Image Credits || original coding by Tamme; tweaked by Shady || quote by William Wordsworth
A M P E R E
"Any existence deprived of freedom is a kind of death" -- Michel Aoun
She had heard whispers in the wind, tossed about as haphazardly as seeds trying to sprout. The Falls is gone, the breeze said, giggling amid the gossip of some ring of mares here and some bachelor stallion there. She had turned at every mention, gaze narrowing with uncertainty and therefore distrust.
It's an impressive thing, to lose a herd land. She doesn't take the word of it lightly, and it's only when the whispers threaten to yell that decides to see for herself.
Except, there's not much to see. Just a place that used to be full of horses and now was so empty it was unsettling. It felt like there ought to be ruin to match the ghostly silence, some visible story of the wreckage of everyone's lives. Not that Ampere wanted war, but at least that'd make sense, at least that would be something. This was just, it was nothing. So devoid of anyone, of everything, it felt like the herd had never built up all its history and all its people. It was unnerving to think a culture could be eradicated just like that, and no one would be the wiser.
All on the whim of a god?
"His land," Kygo pointed out, his sleek green body flitting in the tree tops above Ampere as she slowly walked through the foliage. She glanced up at the bird, unable to see him, his body meant to camouflage with habitat like this. "Don't you think it stops being his after he's given it to them for so long? They made it their own," Ampere responded aloud, needing something to break the haunting atmosphere of abandonment. Kygo seemed to pause and really consider this, but either he had no answer and chose to change the subject, or he legitimately got distracted by the scenery. "Why not live here?" he asked. Ampere snorted at this, shaking her head vigorously until it all rolled down her body. "Aren't you listening, no one lives here any more," she retorted plainly. The parrot puffed up his feathers and mimicked her shake, swaying on a tree branch. "No," he interrupted her thoughts, "why not us live here," he tried to clarify, reaching out to fiddle with a nearby frond.
Ampere tilted her head, trying to understand the bird's intent. He had a point - even if no one was here now, this place had held a herd and was arguably one of the nicest places to live. Ampere had lived in the wilds when she first came here, although that was so long ago now she had forgotten some of the finer details of the hardships of living on one's own, a key part of that had been scrounging up survival on lands not meant to sustain a herd, and maybe not even her. In this place though she supposed they could live comfortably. Kygo was certainly better suited for this landscape than the desert where he had little coverage and stuck out like a slut's tail. "We have a home," Ampere affirmed, leaving no room for discussion. "And now Zekle doesn't. We need to find him," she reminded the bird of their whole reason for being here. Ampere couldn't give two shits about the Falls really, but she had cared enough to see for herself because her son had been here. Where was he now?
"Someone," Kygo alerted, pausing in his foliage frolic. Ampere stopped too, cocking her head. "Sssss," Kygo added a belated plural, signifying the second horse he saw. Ampere moved towards his perch, the leaves giving way around her larger body mass. She disrupted him and he swung down, grabbing her mane as she pressed herself out into the open.
Ampere stood tall, her blue gaze swiftly scanning both horses and their bonded companions. Her stare lingered however on the one she recognized. "Sikeax," Ampere greeted with no reservations on her tone. The sound was tight, punctuated with the thin line her lips fell into afterwards. It was a typical expression for her errant children, whenever they had proven to disappoint her.
She has so much hate, and none of it feels right. It burns a blackish hole in her and digs deep, so much that Hobgoblin is choking on the ash in his lungs and wheezing on the fumes of her destruction. It halts him in his tracks. It takes the world out from underneath his cemented feet and whirls it out into the future without him, and while he’s left reeling, it goes and moves on without him because she’s walking away and he’s sitting stupid in a pond, melting in the humidity and she’s so far and -
SNAP!
He leaps into his own form of a breakneck sprint and explodes into nothingness for seconds on end until his body floats back to him in a cloud. All of this occurs in a blink of an eye, but to him, it’s an eternity, a thousand years spent as nothing and all
without Sikeax.
“Please.” The word is dirty. A cringe exhumes itself from the aftermath of it and only shows up mentally, a ghost making up his face as he stares blankly into the spot that she has walked into, having already disappeared. ‘Come back. Don’t go. I can’t stand being without you.’ nearly follows suit, but instead finds itself sitting beside him in the storm, sighing, broken, beaten down because none of this is making sense.
Is all of this because he thought they were better than this? Did they think of each as better than this?
Neither draws up an answer, and both of them, in their own personal, private ways, know that it’s not worth thinking up one.
One quick look into her eyes and reality is back. The joints in his legs are stiff and the water is soaking into his dampened body, and he finds himself nearly shivering despite how warm the weather is. Another long drag on the cigarette of their bond and he’s back into something new.
She barely even takes note, but it's not like she's supposed to these days.
When speaking in terms of emotions, everything has morphed into the hardened agony of marble. Not a moment is spared in hiding how she feels either, staring at the first of the pair with rough features, a tight line drawing lips that quietly yell a father’s hard disappointment, taunt brows over sapphires. Her horn’s glow brings out the rigidness of the lines. The only movement to be found is when the wind blows with enough strength to move her hair, and how her eyes trail the gradual reach for something under their wing.
The threats fall flat. Fear doesn’t brew up in her belly and send her anxiety hailing. No, Sikeax has nothing to fear here except for herself.
“Neither am I.” climbs its way out of her lips when the tired palm of her words meets the edge of her lips. Hobgoblin is slow in making his arrival. He comes from the trees in silence, antlered head turning with slow grace as he takes in the sight.
For a brief moment, he feels the void take him in. His mind lets him go limp and the only sound is the distance in Sikeax’s heartbeat in his head but not in his ears, and the storm typically raging in the waters of his emotions has died. He’s not sure why it happens, but the sensation is comforting while it lasts, and he sinks into the depths of the darkness until rock bottom is met and her hand is diving down to grab him, pulling him up.
He resurfaces to gasp in the air of aged anger, but the air is stiff and sour. There’s a dull taste in it.
Ampere doesn’t stir up anything for her. She lets herself sit in the same boat that Hobgoblin is sitting in currently, upset for how he has to suffer just like her and how she wishes that for once she could even dissociate alone. Singularity isn’t something she knows anymore.
Unlike her last group meeting, there aren’t multiple faces to be worn. Ampere doesn’t make her jump for joy, or draw out the eternal, deep longing rage that screams REVENGE like Hobgoblin might have wanted if things were different, but those times feel like they’ve left the universe entirely. They’re tired, and rest is a pitiful request on their shared, cracked lips, longing for it as if it was water in the desert. Areli isn’t making her suspicious. She doesn’t even care that her name is out there at the moment because fuck it, who’s to say it matters anymore?
All that she wants to do is stare with a blank expression that possibly tints itself with pleas of loneliness and sips at sadness. Her anger is done, having ran her to her emotional grave now.
“Ampere.” Her name is flat-lining on her voice but there’s no final scream of revival(of what?) before death.
Worry rises up but simply out of the fear of being rude. Here she and Ampere clearly know each other, but their company is left to stand the probable awkwardness of being left out of the mix.
So comes her first real sign of life. She lets herself dip into the lukewarm waters of embarrassment with the falling of her ears, the borderline rough tuck of the corner of her lip as she thinks for a second.
What would you call her? A mental shrug of the shoulder, and she’s fucked.
“And you are?” The pipes in her throat rise one note higher, having climbed another by the end of her sentence. Hobgoblin briefly shuffles in her tension, and she nearly joins him out of habit, but has little energy to put forward, instead choosing to waste it in hopes of finding a way out.
OOC: Hobgoblin's forms go from leopard seal, serval, wendigo.
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