"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.
03-09-2017, 11:41 PM (This post was last modified: 03-09-2017, 11:43 PM by Myrrine.)
The nightshade had tasted bittersweet upon her tongue when she first bit into them. Like a balm the juices had coated her throat, a potion that would take away all the worries and pain. She had remembered. It had taken an accidental blow to the skull to regain her memories; and when she did it shattered her. A crumbling mess that couldn't pick up the pieces she had come to the place where she always found comfort. Whether it be with a spotted mare and a few fellow foals for story time, or to lay herself down with the man she might have loved. She had forgotten her daughter. The girl who was no longer really a girl and honestly who was she to her now? Certainly not her child. The spotted woman didn't deserve to call her such a thing.
It had been about 6 hours since she had eaten nearly a whole bushel of the berries. Like sweet candy she had popped them into her mouth one by one until she couldn't bear to swallow anymore. The guilt was building with the fever. She had come here because this was her only constant in life. As she began to stumble and sway towards the rotunda she stared blearily at the tapestry. She always thought the fabric to be beautiful. Even as she let her eyes fall upon the spot where Quilyan had died she could only smile, eyes dead as she giggled lightly and fell to her knees. Her tongue ran over her lips, seeking moisture where she could find none. It was almost time, she could feel it. Soon she would finally be free.
She didn't realize she had been crying until the salty tears had found their way onto her knees, to the ground where they would be forgotten. She didn't even know what time it was. Her world was spinning and all at once she could see Mother, standing over her with the most joyful smile across her complexion. She could feel her muzzle against hers, could smell the scent of cherry blossoms and sunshine that seemed to melt into her coat and she smiled whilst sobbing. Mother had always been so beautiful, she only realized just how much now that she finally got to see her again. Quilyan was here too, standing in the back and smiling; calling to her: "Come Myrrine, let us run away from here. You deserve to not feel pain any longer."
" Yes my love,"she whispered in response, eyes closing as she smiled dreamily. She would walk with Mother and Quilyan through the yellow flowers and dance, and they would sing and praise the Gods for the beautiful sunshine and how good life was. What a shame she would no longer have the luxury of breathing. A bird flying from the trees disrupted the illusion, causing her to gasp and writhe upon the stone floor. It was hot, she was so so hot and she couldn't stop sweating. She felt as if she would burn alive, would die of thirst then be burned to ashes by the heat building. There wasn't an escape from this Hell that she had placed upon herself. Now she was crying harder and she didn't think it would end because she just wanted this all to stop.
Mauja had told her the first time she had tried killing herself that he'd miss her. She began to ask herself in her mind multiple times if he had been lying for her sake. She was the worthless girl with the sad smile and the pretty wings that couldn't catch a break. The mother who was never a mother and couldn't make her daughter feel loved. The flower child with the happy smiles and optimistic outlook that got crushed by the weight of reality. Such a shame that no one could have warned her sooner of the inevitable. So here she lay, a sweating mess below the stained glass and grasping onto what sanity she had left. It was so deep into her veins by now, crawling through her senses like an eager beast that would claim her in one fell swoop. She would leave this world how she came into it; alone and forgotten.
Birds were beginning to sing, to whistle a mournful tune around her delicate body that seemed to resonate in her soul. Her body felt as if it were swaying yet remaining still all at once; and the colors began to blend together up above her. Time was slowing down and she was following it at the same pace. It wouldn't be long now. Would she find her forgiveness in the wake of death? She couldn't feel her lips anymore. Eyes fluttering open and close at a rapid rate, her body would slowly rise and fall with each fading breath. She was so close she could taste it, and how she wanted to just take a bite. This way she could finally forget; of the days where life was simple and beautiful. Of when she met a boy who made her feel at home and taught her how to love. Of the times she cried because life was hard, but there was always someone to offer a shoulder to cry on. Of the spotted man who was the closest thing she would ever get to a father. Of a painted prince who taught her that life came with mistakes. That no one was perfect.
But what she didn't think she could ever forget were those beautiful eyes and pastel butterfly wings. Of a patched and speckled babe who just wanted to be something for her Mama; and it never was enough. So as her eyes closed for the last time she sighed, mind running to the loud and exuberant foal that would always be her daughter. Because despite everything; Laume had been loved.
"For...give... me..." she begged upon her final breath, and then she was no more.
" Speak"
OOC: Myrrine's cloak and flower crown will go to @Laume
Her pink flower charm and moon amulet will go to @Mauja
Her two vases will go to @Tembovu to be used and donated to the Edge.
Thank you to everyone who wrote with me and Myrrine. It was amazing, and I love her so much; but her journey was over. Please feel free to post to say your goodbyes if you'd like!
It is by nothing more than coincidence that I stumble upon her.
I cannot remember her name, having only met her once among evening shadows and lamplight, but I could never forget a face—and, of course, those peculiarly beautiful wings of hers, which are unlike any of those I had seen among the bustling streets of Uumalah. I may not be able to recall her name, but I remember that she was kind. Perhaps even a little too kind, but that is only up to my own corrupted judgement, because she had treated me with gentleness and compassion when she had no need to. I might have not known her well, but knowing that is more than enough.
Ascending the smooth, marbled steps to join her at the Rotunda’s floor, I pause for a moment, staring. The sunlight filters in through the stained-glass roof overhead, falling in colorful shafts of light that dance across her figure—nearly giving the illusion of life, if there wasn’t something so eerie about how still she lies beneath the kaleidoscope of illuminations. This is not my first time seeing a body (though my broken heart screams for it to be the last)...all the same, this Rotunda might just be the most beautiful burial ground I have seen. It is very fitting for her, I decide.
Wandering across the smooth stone floor, my eyes can’t seem to leave her face, and I study her young (far, far too young—) and delicate features with a softened gaze. Her eyes are a warm hazel, and quite beautiful; a detail I had failed to notice when we had met. She seems to be staring off at something (someone?) and, after examining her frozen expression, I tell myself that she looks happy.
Despite whatever it is that had driven her to such misery (because the sweet sting of nightshade is a poison that I recognize) at least in death, just maybe, she has found the peace that she had so sorely longed for. “Qad tajid ‘akhiraan alssalam, farashatan sayida,” I murmur humbly in my native tongue, blessing her with whatever little benedictions that I (a broken woman) can give. Reverently I reach down to brush my muzzle across her face, closing her eyes so that she could be sleeping, and finally put her to rest. “Qad tajid alssalam,” I whisper again, my breath warm across her cold cheek.
notes;@Watermel0nBob <33
“Qad tajid ‘akhiraan alssalam, farashatan sayida” : “May you finally find peace, lady butterfly”
“Qad tajid alssalam” : “May you find peace” “Speech.”
I pirouette in the dark
Tired mechanical heart—Beats til the song disappears
" they say an elephant’s eyes speak the greatest language… "
The Elephant wasn’t sure what drew him out of the Edge’s glass-shorn borders. But, whatever it was, it was urgent, and pushed his thick, long limbs in purposeful steps towards the south. Mbwene’s own short and stocky limbs shuffled in a quick trot to keep up with her bonded.
As he kept this brisk pace towards the unknown pull, he allowed his mind to wander. There was much for the Elephant to think of—his life, which he thought would become simple and happy once his family was reunited had become the opposite. It was tumultuous, frenetic, filled with responsibilities that pulled him in more directions than he had time. Unbidden, his ears had begun to lay flush with his skull as he racked through all the things he should be doing, rather than whatever it was he currently was doing. Why had he even left —
Stillness.
Abruptly, the Elephant stopped. Mbwene crashed unceremoniously into his haunches with a disgruntled trumpet, but Tembovu paid her no mind. His entire attention was focused on the still, spotted body that laid lifeless on the Rotunda’s floor. Some disjointed birdsongs droned distortedly into his ears that now strained forward—as if some strange and haunting melody wove him into a ghastly trance.
Legs slowly shifted into motion, carrying him through the languidly flapping, sheer drapes that seemed to tease him with the truth as Myrrine’s body floating in and out of view. Though his mind registered another there—one speaking a familiar language that was not the common tongue—his shell-shocked mind was too entirely focused on the still body that was not at his hooves.
His great head dropped to her skin, still slick from sweat—though it was drying and crusting over her spots in some places, now. It hovered for a moment, before he gently pressed his muzzle into her chest; as if seeking some whisper of breath or promise of pulse.
But there was one; he knew that before touching the now lukewarm skin. His ears tilted back, darkening navy eyes closing as his lips pressed tightly, sadly together. A long, pained breath pushed out of his nostrils—so quickly forgotten were all his troubles. Instead, his mind was filled with a sweet but sad-eyed butterfly who helped him regain his memories of his first son and love. It had been a bittersweet moment, filled with happiness and memories; but it had helped the King more than she knew.
His muzzle slowly moved to Myrrine’s face, lips gently and lovingly closing her lovely, sightless, hazel eyes—before death could rob them of their beauty with cloudiness. “Kupumzika kwa amani, rafiki yangu,” he murmured quietly, voice hoarse and nearly catching, “Pumzika kwa amani.”
A low, quiet, painful bugle came from behind him: Mbwene, her eyes bright with tears about to be shed.
Kupumzika kwa amani, rafiki yangu. Pumzika kwa amani. = Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in peace.
" what else can make one feel so much without a word? "
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