"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.
02-27-2017, 06:26 PM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2017, 06:26 PM by Najya.)
-- N A J Y A --
She had been hesitant to bring the children across the bridge. However she felt selfish for keeping them in the Throat. For one there was such a big world outside the desert and she didn’t ever want to be the one responsible for depriving them of that. But never before had she been so afraid of losing someone. Everything changed once she met them, once they started to develop such amazing, unique personalities. She would never forgive herself if she was the one responsible for putting them in any sort of danger that she knew was avoidable. So she made sure that she would keep them well clear of the marshes, and A’mal watched carefully from above for any sign that something was amiss.
But exploration was not the reason that she and the children traveled north.
She could not, in her right mind, keep the twins away from their father. As soon as she had realized she was pregnant, she had loved them and she fell more and more in love with them each and every day. She knew it was foolish to expect the same of Gaal, but she wouldn’t deprive him of the opportunity to know his children. She was troubled by the fact that she didn’t even know where to find the stallion, embarrassed even that she had allowed herself to be so foolish. But she could never bring herself to say she regretted what had happened. Especially not now that her days were filled with baby-laughter and the sound of tiny footsteps following her own. It certainly complicated the situation, that she didn’t know if he belonged to a herd of if he was more apt to wander, so she ultimately made the decision to head for the meadow. She figured they’d be far enough away from the marshes, and near enough to the herdlands that they’d have some expectation of finding him or someone that knew him. That and it was where Najya had lived before she had found a herd, so maybe other outcasts were drawn to the area too.
Still, it did little to quell the little mare’s anxiety. She had regained her strength after the birth, but she still worried about her capacity to protect both of the twins should they run into something particularly sinister. A’mal picked up on her bonded’s anxiety, and the little dragon had hatched her own plan as they traveled north.
I find him, she said simply, as she swooped down low to land on the branches of a nearby tree. I find and bring here, she said, gesturing to the area between the tree where she rested and the little creek in front of them. Najya opened her mouth to protest, but knew that A’mal’s idea was for the best. She just hoped that A’mal had some luck in locating the large stallion and that he wouldn’t be too upset at the idea of being beckoned.
Without any further instruction, the little dragon took off again for places unknown, traveling further from her bonded then she’d ever been before. In the meadow, the little mare could only wait and see, turning her attention back to the two fillies who had become her whole world.
Melita spent the better part of their outing chasing everything in sight.
From the moment they set out of the Dragon’s Throat, where there’d been so much sun, so much sand, so much fire, she’d only seen greenery, lavish and decadent, jovial and sweet. There were so many pretty objects before her eyes: luscious blooms, curling towards their native sun, beautiful, wide-open trees, long, lush grasses tickling her nose. She shot across the open terrain like a bullet, wings opened, unfurled in the marvelous haze of meadow dew and tender warmth, allowing the serenity of touch, of wonder, of curiosity, to carry her along on a current of sensation and experiences. Forever restless, the world was for her making, her taking, and the boldness rushing through her gangly legs pulled her amidst the dulcet haze, springing from root to root, from seed to seed, alive and intrepid, bold and daring. She launched into a puddle near the river and laughed as the water splashed over her legs, she raced alongside several honeybees as they dove beside blooms (hummed buzz-buzz beneath her breath, trying to mimic them as best she could), and she laced her nose with the finest scents of the thistles, of the pines, of the oaks. “Ma,” the little girl shouted finally, because nearly everything she did seemed to be loud and exuberant, wild and unwieldy, along the outcrops, raising her head from a layer of wildflowers. “What is this place?” She wanted a name for every arena, for every particle, for every rich lacquer of earth, so she could know, so she could understand, so she could experience everything life had to offer.
Then she looked for her twin, the little girl who smelled of flowers, slinking through the grass like a serpent she’d watched in the desert, pretending to be an asp or a cobra until she sprung up beside the petal-child, laughing and giggling. “Why do you think we’re here?” She shrugged, struggling to discern her mother’s reasoning, because while it was majestic and magnificent, it wasn’t home either; no sand in sight save for the embankment down by the roaring river (another eldritch thing summoning her to try its promise of cooling graces). She wanted sentiments and notions, decisions and calculations, objectives, motivations, rationales, so she could make her own some day, so there was something beyond the primal need to act, the instinctual coil of something nestled in her soul.
The flower-girl was certainly glad she had mastered her legs by this point, because this was a long trip. The sands of the desert had been a true test, but she’d been growing stronger each and every day. That newfound strength imbued her with the confidence to explore. She’d already seen quite a bit of the desert, but when they’d finally crossed the bridge to the other side of the sea, Clementine could hardly contain herself. The sheer excitement of going somewhere made Clementine forget just how far she had walked and how far behind the Throat and everyone in it was. She followed her mother without question, occupying herself with all of the magical things she found along the way. She didn’t know what this place was, but as far as Clem was concerned it was magic because there were so many different kinds of flowers here than there were back at home. The filly practically skipped under the watchful eye of her mother’s dragon, bounding through the flowers in a state of utter bliss.
She could hear Melita’s laughter from somewhere but she lowered her nose to a particularly beautiful bunch of flowers, inhaling with utter reverence, before looking over her shoulder at where her mother stood beneath the arms of a tree. Clem let out a little shriek when her sister materialized from nowhere, but was lost in a fit of giggles before she tumbled to the ground. However, the girl recovered quickly, and sprang up from the soft bed of flowers as if there were springs in her legs. Melita’s question hardly had time to really register in her mind before Clem’s answer was pouring from her lips.
“To catch all the butterflies!” the flower-girl shouted, mid leap, as if it were the most obvious thing in the whole world. “Look at all of them! Have you ever seen this many at home?!” Clem murmured, completely enraptured by the slowly fluttering insects scattered across the meadow. It never really crossed her mind that they had come here for any other purpose, so Clem’s thoughts didn’t linger on the whys. She was just happy to be here surrounded by flowers and butterflies and family.
03-26-2017, 07:49 PM (This post was last modified: 03-26-2017, 07:50 PM by Graasvoel.)
fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
The vulture’s wings soared, sweat forming a patchwork of deep mahogany amid his this russet coat—but the dry air he soared in evaporated away any dripping moisture. He flew towards the Edge, returning from the Isles, his mind full of dark skin with bluish undertones; of electric eyes and sparking energy—so the abrupt appearance of the white dragon caught the soaring giant quite off guard.
His great span flapped quickly as he stalled to avoid hitting the scaled creature, heavy body quickly dropping a few feet before his flared feathers regained his aerial equilibruim. “Vervloek dit, draak,” was his grunted curse as the great musculature of his chest labored to keep him aloft. As said before, his great body was meant for soaring, not flapping or any feats of aerial dexterity.
But the small, white reptile was determined, her glinting claws and sharp gaze an obstinate indication to Gaal that he best follow her. Briefly, his gaze turned towards the west, seeing the glint of the sea above white cliffs he now thought of as home—strange; when had he began to yearn for the Edge?
Then again, A’mal meant Najya. And Nayja meant… well the last time, Nayja had meant a happy ending for all involved parties. And the vulture was never one to deny a beautiful woman.
So down he spiraled, slowly ascending towards the Thistle Meadow, red-hot eyes eagerly lighting upon the russet curves and ivory locks of the woman whose body he had intimately known. A raptor’s gaze roved over every white-specked birdcatcher spot upon her thin, satin skin (particularly those on her flank)—
“To catch all the butterflies!”
But his sharp gaze was not left long to lustfully linger on the healer’s curves, for a sweetly youthful voice shattered into the vulture’s reality. His starkly white, large skull swung towards the frolicking foals as his feathered hooves landed heavily in the Birdsong’s lush greenery. His hot gaze was wide, non-plussed, confused. The black skin around his eyes made the starkness of his white-rimmed eyes that much more prominent.
One was a gentle auburn, sun-bleached along her back and graced with stripes of cream along her withers and limbs. Butterflies flocked around her, and a sweet smell wafted towards his flared, shocked nostrils. This was the one that had shouted into his world. The other damned his reality even more—by her wings. Her coat was a similar orange-red to his own, her foal-fuzz mane and bottle-brush tail as dark as his own, and her wings… their baby feathers were a similar mottled assortment—his own instinctively flexed into his flank, as if blocking out that truth that shouted from the twin girls’ genetics.
His agape, bearded mouth motioned to make noise, but then snapped shut as he remained astonished and mute. He blinked a few times, bewildered eyes seeking something—anyhting— from Nayja’s honeyed hazel. Anything to suppress the rising panic that threatened his throat, mind, and chest.
“Wha—what is the meaning of this?” he finally croaked out in his gruff voice.
Found him! A’mal reported, though the little dragon was not yet in Najya’s line of sight. Uncertainty bloomed in Najya’s gut, wondering if she was right to have brought the children here...to have orchestrated this entire situation. Come willingly, A’mal added, as if to somehow assuage the little mare’s worries. Instead she stepped out from beneath the arms of the tree and turned her gaze skyward. The children were utterly oblivious to what was about to transpire, giving Najya more time to pour over the what-ifs and potential outcomes of this little rendezvous. She let out a soft sigh as the figures appeared on the horizon and said a silent prayer for a positive outcome, even though she wasn’t particularly religious. Moments like this, however, could make her a follower of whoever could provide her with guidance.
A’mal landed in the lowest branch of the tree, so as if to offer her bonded some privacy even though she’d still be privy to the entire conversation - just in case. But Najya said nothing as Gaal approached. She simply watched and attempted to read the expressions in his gaze. His bewilderment, the discomfort, was like an arrow to her heart but she did understand. So before he could say something more - something that cut her to the bone - she finally parted her lips to speak.
“I think you know,” she said, quietly. Her voice was still patient, calm, for she understood what a shock this must be. She hadn’t considered the possibility of a pregnancy after the night they’d spent together, but she’d had considerably longer to adjust to the idea of children resulting from their encounter. Since the moment she’d felt them moving, she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything that had transpired. However, a flicker of irritation burst to flame as A’mal found herself upset that the large stallion was seemingly less than pleased at the situation. Najya was willing to offer the stallion the opportunity to compose himself, but A’mal was instantly protective of the girls who she was already irrevocably attached to. From her branch above the trees, the little dragon struggled to retain her composure. Najya found that her ability to reassure both her bonded and Gaal drew her control very thin - but she pressed on.
She did not hesitate or allow for awkward silences as she did during their last encounter. She delved right into the heart of the issue. “I would have come to find you sooner, but after everything that happened with the Kaos God, I was unwilling to risk them.” Her gaze was drawn for the girls, who she knows will be drawn to Gaal soon enough simply because he is a face they do not know, “But I was unwilling to deny you the opportunity to meet your children, so here we are.” Her gaze snapped back to the the large pegasus now, and though she had to look up at him to meet his gaze, in this moment she finally felt as if she stood on equal footing with the great stallion.
“However, if you want nothing to do with them - with us - go now, before you can hurt them. Because they’re extraordinary, Gaal, and I won’t have them hurt,” she said, quietly, unwilling to be overhead by curious ears, but there was a fierceness in her words and her eyes that was undeniable. She would do anything to protect her children from harm. Anything. But she knew Gaal deserved a chance.
Her sister had all the answers, and in response, Melita stared at the world around her again, alive and full of color, full of wings, full of hues, bright, poignant crescendos, light, airy music of the realm that made her feel ignited and resplendent. “Oh!” She offered in soft reply, as if the whole meaning for their outing would be butterflies and soft, beautiful fields of sprawling meadows, lush greenery, and the little child watched her sibling amidst the fluttering insects and the billowing palisade – smiling, dulcet, content. For a few moments, she was still and quiet, contemplative, gazing over the wild kingdom, the vicious empire, and all of its offerings, basking in the warm glow of her family, of her excitement, heart finally taking its time to consider what life had bestowed, granted, and given to her – but then her eyes chanced upon A’mal in the distance, a white herald settling near her mother, and the savage levels of curiosity sunk into her again.
She followed the lines of his wings, the subtle turning and twisting of his draconic head, and then she eyed her dam as the gilded mare stared into the sky – something, some beast massive and large came from the clouds, the horizon, the swirls of heavens and bliss, and the girl couldn’t help her interest, her inquiries. The questions instantly soaring through her mind nearly burned along her throat, ablaze and on fire, but something held her astray, a strange level of patience and awe, as she slowly, carefully, tread closer and closer to the stranger greeting her blessed, golden mother. She forgot about bees and butterflies, she forgot about chasing after the sun, she forgot about exploring the length of the meadow. Instead, she witnessed, eyes and nares wide, occupied and entranced, tempted and spellbound. The little child didn’t catch their conversation, only the movements, the motions, of the humongous beast; glancing over his wings, the strands and patterns of the feathers (like mine, she thought, and she smiled for no other reason except it was nice to match someone else when her twin and dam had no plumage – even though she’d never asked why), until he tucked them away. She looked upon the great ivory skull he bore, impressed with its stature, with the intriguing sable markings running down the length of his eyes, pondered if he was hot in that thick, rugged coat. When she found her examination, her scrutiny, thorough and meticulous, she inclined further into their shared space, thought nothing of their whispering, of the quiet, hushed way her Najya spoke (almost rigid, commanding, demanding, and she’d never heard her utter such tones before – layered in a sudden ferocity, and the little girl liked it, to see her family so bold).
“Hello!” She bounded near the unfamiliar stallion, completely unaware that there shouldn’t have been anything unfamiliar about him in the slightest – because they shared blood, they shared heritage, they shared tones, shades, pigments, and species. He was a portion of their reason for existing at all, but youth and ignorance held these sentiments, notions, and conundrums at bay, unfolding in an eager, fervent smile, ready to make acquaintance with someone new, someone intriguing, the way she’d done amidst the Throat and its wide variety of children. “I’m Melita!” She proffered, delightful grin in place, scorching with energy, with a drum, with a drone, a hum, buzzing along her figure, joyful, emblazoned with foretold glory and whimsical, tempestuous rhythms. “Who are you?” Then, once she started talking, her mouth failed to close and her tongue didn’t bother yielding, rolling along in its usual, passionate zeal, spiraling on the brink of defiance and unruly composure. “Do you live here?” Her head inclined, tilted, wings spread out in excitement, as if she’d forgotten about their existence and they merely responded to the flow of her blood, the ardor in her veins. “Do you like butterflies? My sister likes butterflies, but I think bees are better.” The last words echoed on a hardly-convincing whisper, as if they were embroiled in specious secrets Clementine could not be allowed to hear; for Melita was not one to betray sacred bonds.
06-03-2017, 12:28 PM (This post was last modified: 06-03-2017, 12:29 PM by Graasvoel.)
fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
It was like he was swimming beneath the waves with Kisamoa once again. Everything was sluggish—his mind, the fluttering of butterfly wings around the fillies— and sounds were distorted—“…that happened with the Kaos God, I was unwilling to risk them.” The idea of not wanting to risk children…it was odd to Gaal. It hinted at some deep, maternal love; something he had felt only in short spurts and seen in mere glimpses from his birth mother. His step-mother had shown him none; and his father…well, he had Gaal in plenty of harm’s way.
So the giant vulture remained stock-still, red-hot eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the frolicking fillies. Though his starkly white ears remained trained on Najya, listening to every word as if it would save him from this roaring, looming, panicked blackness in his mind and chest.
“…you the opportunity to meet your children…”
His ears twitched. His eyes blinked.
“…meet your children…””
His body jerked. His eyes widened as the winged filly slowly sidled closer to he and Najya.
“…your children…””
He could not look away from the winged filly’s smile. He couldn’t find any words, his gruff voice had abandoned him. Instead, aching heat burned in his throat while colors wobbled around the vision of a child (a daughter) that was suddenly talking to him.
And it was her words that shattered through his frozen state—and he did shatter. Pieces fell apart within him; walls built by a loveless foal hood came tumbling down in his chest. His hide spasmed, legs beginning to tremble as instinct roughly flew out his massive wings and flapped them laboriously, whipping the long grasses in a sudden windstorm. “Geen,” was his only word, pushed out on a rough and forced exhale by the pure force of his pumping wings as he took to the skies.
“Because they’re extraordinary, Gaal, and I won’t have them hurt.”
Nayja’s words echoed and shouted through his skull as he escaped. He couldn’t be a father. He couldn’t do to those sweet, bright-eyed fillies what had been done to him.
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